#with the inner kid voice being able to reach adulthood

[nelkcats]

Baby Bird Advices

When a person is facing a difficult moment, or having to make a though decision. The voice of their soulmate will manifest in their head. It's not their actual voice though, it's the voice of the child they were once, which can be confusing because people change over time.

Sometimes all someone needs is a kid scolding them or telling them to take a break; After all, they don't lie to make you feel better but try their best to support you.

However, Jason's soulmate wants a refund, little Robin is definitely not trying his best. He suggested steal the tires of a car once!

Danny didn't know his soulmate's name, one day the boy proudly declared his name was "Robin" which couldn't be a real name, but he assumed it worked. Little Robin gave worrisome advice.

Honestly, Little Robin remained silent for most of his life, sometimes he complained about his parents or his living conditions, but he didn't go further than that.

When he was a child it was a surprise to discover Little Robin, at that time the voice had no name but at the age of 5 he advised him to run, and well, it worked. Robin had a lot of advices on running away, or how to survive on little food, which was extremely helpful considering his... living conditions.

Although the halfa was very worried about the future of the child, he knew the voice of his soulmate would still be there even if they died, Little Robin was still alive? Would he be okay? How did he know so many worrying things? And why did he consider it was a good idea to tell him what to do?

On the other hand, Jason has tried to shut the little Dick in his head from making jokes during his most tense moments. Although he is stupidly helpful, and his knowledge of chemistry helped him on more than one occasion (how did a kid know about chemistry and mechanics, what the fuck?)

[twrp-act-your-age]

The Big Scary What-If

Was going through old files and whoops! I found a whole bonus scene I wrote and never posted. So... here ya go!

Spoilers under the cut for the near-end of the story!

This scene takes place around the vicinity of pages 114-116. For those who don’t remember (it’s been a while!), Deimos has been defeated, the gang is back together, and they’re taking a few days to fix the Time Crystal.

Havve’s optics blinked, taking in the small form of Meouch sitting curled up on the couch. It was midnight--rather, it would have been midnight if they had been on Earth--and his three boys should’ve all been in bed. “You’re supposed to be asleep,” he said, keeping his volume down for the sake of the others.

“I know,” Meouch said, seemingly having fully expected that from Havve. “I can’t stop thinking, though.”

Havve could have sighed and sent him off to bed anyway--if Meouch could think out here, in front of the muted TV playing intergalactic infomercials, then he could think in his room--but he didn’t. He sat down next to Meouch and got comfortable, leaning back and lacing his fingers together over his stomach. “What’re you thinking about?”

“It’s nothing,” Meouch said, shrugging one shoulder. “I mean, it’s… Y’know.”

“Clearly it’s not nothing,” Havve retorted, “if it’s keeping you up half the night.”

“It’s…” Meouch sighed. He crossed his arms over his chest and burrowed his hands inside the sleeves of his t-shirt. He looked at the TV, defeated. “It’s stupid.”

“I bet it’s not,” Havve said. Meouch didn’t look at him, eyes vacantly stuck on the infomercial in front of him. Havve sighed then, a tinny, half-real, half-robotic sound. “You can talk to me, you know. I won’t judge. I mean… you’re a kid for crying out loud. Of course you’re worried about stuff you wouldn’t be normally.” Havve’s optics drifted to the TV for a moment (something about air fryers. He couldn’t believe they were still hawking that crap this far in the future), and then turned back to Meouch. “If something’s got you concerned, and you care about it, then that means it’s important. I won’t think it’s stupid. Okay?”

Meouch pursed his lips into a line. He blinked, his eyes reflecting the screen in front of them, and Havve realized he was trying to push back tears. “If we don’t fix this,” Meouch croaked, his voice rough and barely above a whisper, “if we have to grow up all over again from scratch… I did the math, Havve. I have the shortest lifespan here. I’m… I’m not gonna live to see Phobos and Sung get back to normal.”

The dam broke. It was quiet, Meouch still trying to hold himself together, but his eyes were gushing tears and his lips were trembling with cries trying to pry their way out. Havve sat up straighter and scooped him up, pulling Meouch into his chest and holding a hand on the back of his small head. Meouch choked out a high-pitched sob, muffled by Havve’s shirt. “Oh, bud. It’s okay. It’s okay,” he said, rubbing his thumb up and down on Meouch’s back. Havve couldn’t cry, as he didn’t have the eyes or the tear ducts necessary, but he could still feel his chest grow tight and his breath hitch in his half-metal throat. “It won’t come to that, I promise. We’ll fix this, Meouch. It’s okay.”

“I know. It’s like, so many what-ifs all piled on top of one another,” Meouch squeaked once he gained a little bit of his composure back. He sniffled, trying and failing to not get Havve’s shirt all wet. “Of course we’re gonna fix it. But I can’t get it out of my head, man. For fuck’s sake, Phobos is, what, twelve hundred years old? That's twice as old as I’ll ever be. I don’t wanna grow up and have him still be a little kid. I can’t, Havve, I can’t…”

“I know. God, if there’s anyone who understands that feeling, it’s me,” Havve said. “I honestly don’t mind taking care of you guys like this, but… I need you back, too. I can’t… rust away into nothing before Sung even hits puberty. I need you guys back.”

“Mm.” Meouch crawled further into Havve’s arms, burying his head in his hoodie and wrapping his arms tight around Havve’s chest. “I know they're gonna outlive me,” he muttered, barely audible. “I’ve always known that. S’just how shit goes. But I… They’re my… All of you are my best friends, and if we can’t tour together or do music together or just… hang out together without having to worry about babysitting… I can’t…”

Havve hummed in agreement, a strange mix of breath and white noise, making his chest vibrate. Meouch leaned into it, and Havve cradled him there. He needed this hug so bad that he was practically trying to crawl into Havve’s chest plate, and if Havve could have, he would’ve let him.

“I know you’ve prob’ly already been thinking about this a lot,” Meouch mumbled, his voice still wet and thick. “About what happens if the Time Crystal doesn’t poof us back to normal. This is old news for you. ‘M sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Havve shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry about. There’s been so much going on… The whole thing with Phobos and Deimos… This is something we should’ve talked about days ago. The big shitty ‘what-if’ hanging over everyone’s heads. I hate it, you hate it, and no doubt Sung and Phobos hate it too. It’s hard to think about. Phobos is… tiny.” Havve ran his fingers gently through the fur on Meouch’s head, partly to soothe Meouch and partly to steady himself, and he spoke quietly, the bass of his speaker rumbling low in the top of his chest. “Seeing him get that small was… terrifying. I can’t imagine him staying that young for a hundred years. I don’t want to think about what that would do to him, what that would do to you or me… And Sung…”

“I don’t know how old he is,” Meouch whispered, “but he’s old old, isn’t he?”

“I can’t say.”

Meouch gripped the fabric of Havve’s shirt tighter, his small fingers digging into the warm metal of Havve’s stomach. “I know you know.”

Havve sighed. “I can’t say because that’s Sung’s secret to tell, not mine. But… yes, he’s old old. If he has to grow up again ‘from scratch’ as you called it… We’d all be long gone before he reached adulthood again.”

“God,” Meouch whimpered.

They sat there in the quiet for a good long while, letting it all sit. It was dark, save for the blue-light glow of the TV and the bright red of Havve’s optics, quiet save for the TV humming and Havve’s inner mechanisms humming and Meouch’s shaky, wet breaths. Havve could faintly feel himself starting to get a headache, something he rarely experienced. He could feel the pressure building up behind where his eyes used to be, in the little that remained of his sinuses, and he knew he would have shed a tear by then if he could have. Part of him wished that he could. The other part, the part that was holding a small, crying child in his arms, was relieved that he couldn’t. He needed to be strong, and sure, and confident that things were going to turn out okay. He needed to do that for Meouch, even if he was barely able to do it for himself right now.

"It’ll be okay,” Havve said, his voice louder and more confident coming from his speakers than it could’ve possibly been if it had come from his aching lungs. “We’ll get you guys back to normal. Hell, even Phobos’s little crystal shard is working on him already. You’ll all be back to normal in no time,” he said. “And no matter what happens, we have each other. I’ll always be there for you guys. And I know you’ll be there for me, too.”

“Yeah,” Meouch said, and then trailed off. His mouth hung open like he wanted to say something more, but then he closed it and swallowed. It took him a moment to find his voice again, and when he spoke, he lifted his face away from Havve’s chest and looked up at him. “You can say if you’re hurting, too. Your breathing’s all shallow, Havve, I can feel it.”

“Meouch… I’m okay, really,” Havve said. He wiped under one of Meouch’s eyes with a finger, brushing a fresh tear away from the streaks of already-wet fur.

“You just said that I’m here for you, too,” Meouch huffed. “Don’t lie to me. I’m not just a kid, man. I’m your friend, too.”

“I know you are,” Havve said. He felt something catch in his throat, something that maybe could have been a sob if he still had vocal chords to make the sound with. Running on long-forgotten instinct, his hand reached up under his mask and rubbed at one of his optics, as if that would relieve the pressure that was still building. “Seeing you cry like that, it just… I hate to see that. Makes me want to cry, too, even though I can’t.”

And then Meouch did what only a child would do: he pulled Havve’s mask off of his face, gently and with both hands, and then wiped the imaginary tears under his eyes with his thumb. “It’s okay, Havve,” he said, and Havve could’ve sworn he felt something break in the 808 drum machine where his heart used to be. The pressure built up harder, and he blinked uselessly to try and fight it off. “It’s okay.”

“Y’know,” Havve said, his robotic voice calm and steady even as his breathing was shaky and quick and his shoulders quaked, “I can only think of one other time when I wished I wasn’t a damn robot. You know what that was?”

“What?”

“Airport security,” he said, and then laughed a wet, shaky, electronically-tinged laugh. Meouch laughed too, the sad smile fighting its way onto his face. “Honestly, I like the way I am. Nine times out of ten, I wouldn’t want to be any other way. And I used to think x-rays and metal detectors and the post-9/11 TSA were just the banes of my existence. And they still are. But it’s shit like this. Shit where my body wasn’t built to handle having too many emotions inside of it. And god, since you three turned into kids?” He laughed again. “I swear, it’s like my Grinch heart grew three sizes and I have no place to put it all.”

Meouch smiled. “I heard being a dad’ll do that to you,” he said, and then hugged Havve even tighter, resting his head in the crook of Havve’s neck. “When Sung’s bigger, you should ask him to fix that for you. To make more room for your heart.”

“That is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Havve said, making Meouch burst out laughing. “No, I’m serious. That was such a triple-whammy. Each sentence was a one-hit KO. Why can’t you be this cute all the time?”

“Hmm, can’t be this cute when you’re that sexy,” Meouch hummed, and it was Havve’s turn to laugh. It relieved a little bit of the pressure, and he almost felt like he could take a deep breath again. “Once I get my mane back, it’s over for you fuckers. Cute adorable tiny Meouch will be no more, and sexy beast Meouch will reign supreme once again.”

Havve rested his head on Meouch’s shoulder, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Thank you.”

“Hey, no problem. I’m the one who got you all upset in the first place, so…”

“I think I was upset anyway. It was just hiding.”

“Oh,” Meouch said gently. “Then… You’re welcome. Wait, no, I should be thanking you! I was freaking out and now I’m not! How’d you do that?”

Havve chuckled, and they both knew he would’ve smiled if he could. “Secret dad powers,” he said simply. Meouch looked up at him and beamed. “Speaking of which, my dad powers are telling me that it’s way past your bedtime.”

“Aww, come on, no it’s not!” Meouch whined. “We were just getting somewhere! C’mon Havve, I’m not even tired.”

“You sure? Because I’m spe-ent,” Havve chimed. He stood up, bringing Meouch with him, and started carrying him back towards the bunks. “I need to recharge, and you need to get some sleep.”

“Fine,” Meouch said. His head was resting on Havve’s shoulder, and he was already quieting down. “I guess.”

Havve padded across the ship to Meouch’s room, and the door opened automatically as they got close. It was dark inside. Only Havve’s glowing red optics illuminated the space, showing off the piles of flannel shirts on the floor and the mess of charging cords by his bed. “You need to clean in here,” Havve said, and Meouch only replied with a hum and a small nod. He had gone from energetic to almost-asleep in just a couple of minutes. Seemed like the crying had finally caught up to him. Havve laid him down in bed, pulling his covers up to his chin. Meouch rolled over onto his side, burying his face in his pillow, and was out before he could even say “goodnight.”

Havve patted him on his head and tousled the small fluff of brown that was his mane. “Sweet dreams, bud,” he said softly, his volume just a notch above muted. “Everything’ll be fine. I promise.” He adjusted the blankets once more, stood up, and left Meouch’s room as quietly as he could. “I promise.”

[0kayblue]

A Peace Offering

Summary: You’ve graduated from Hawkins High and summer has officially begun, bringing new beginnings with it. You’re focused on turning over a new leaf and becoming an actual adult, putting your Queen of Hawkins High title behind you.

So far it’s turned out in your favor. You’ve got a job, your parents almost off your back about college, and a best friend who works for the ice cream shop up stairs.

Adulthood is proving itself to be pretty fruitful, but one day when you go to visit your best friend, Robin, you cross paths with the former King of Hawkins High, Steve Harrington. You and Steve were most definitely not strangers but you wished you were as memories flood both yours and Steve’s minds

Word count: 10k

Notes: Anything written in italics is a memory. It is either a memory from you, Robin, or Steve. I understand how that can be pretty straight forward as you read, but the groundwork for this piece is the memories.

Character Relations: Robin x reader (best friend), Steve x reader (romantic interest), Billy x reader (close acquaintance)  

A/N: Hi! This isn’t the first imagine I’ve ever written, but it is the first Stranger Things centered one. It’s also one of the first imagines I’ve ever even posted. I really enjoyed writing this and I also feel a little accomplished, lol. There might be a part two? I haven’t decided if I really want to dive deeply into this or not yet. Anyway, if you read thank you so much! Critiques and comments are welcomed with open arms!

WARNINGS: Cursing, lots of cursing. Fluff? Angst? A mix of emotions.

                                                    ……………

As you flashed an obviously fake smile at the dusty blonde man who “complimented” you on your ruby red lipstick, you felt the urge to jump across the table and strangle him.

“Well, I thank you. It’s a new shade I’ve decided to try out. Now, is that all I can grab for ya?” You said with a tone too sweet to indicate how venomous it actually was. The fake twang seemed to echo in your head and you wondered how anyone with a natural accent could handle the sound of their own voice.

“Ah, no thank you dear. I’m afraid that’ll be it.” He smirked and you simply nodded as you turned and walked up to the diner window. Your cheery facade fading as you glared at the cook behind the open order window.

Sal, the cook, chuckled as he analyzed how upset you were starting to get. You weren’t a stranger to the irritation you felt every time you stepped foot in this damn diner.

You clipped the order onto one of clothespins and let out a deep sigh as you rested your head on the cool smooth steel counter. Sal just smiled as he threw a hamburger patty on the grill. You looked up at him and he just continued to chuckle.

“Y’know I think you should drop that fake twang, you might be less miserable.” Sal was a bigger built man, he reminded you of your father, just bald.

“I might be less miserable if I didn’t have to wear scratchy outdated themed clothes that do nothing but irritate the irritable.” You huffed out laying your head flat on the counter.

“Mhm.” He just groaned out. “Only way you are getting rid of that poodle skirt is if you quit.” You groaned in defeat knowing quitting was not an option.

“Then it’s empty pockets.” You said as you stood up straight, the snickering of table five being overheard. “Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”

“I’m serious, kid. I don’t know why you are here. You should be enjoying your summer and going to college in the fall. You’re smart enough for it.” You rolled your eyes.

College seemed to be the only thing that people wanted out of you. A nice college education and maybe you could make something out of yourself. You couldn’t help but scoff and give Sal a look of distaste.

“I’ve been over this with you. And my parents. And my grandparents. And basically everyone. I don’t want to go, at least not yet. I want the experience of working first.” This wasn’t an exact lie per say, it was more of a beefed up truth. You didn’t want to go back into the school system mainly because it just made you feel like shit, and you believed knowing all sides is better than just one. So an honest job was not only a way to get experience and out of college pressure, but to also to hold onto to this fleeting feeling of youth.

“Besides, this is also to fund potential college endeavors.” You smiled as he placed two plated burgers on the counter in front of you.

“Yeah, right. You better take this to table five so you can take your break.” You rolled your eyes as you picked up the plates and walked over to table five with a painful fake smile.

“One double cheeseburger with fries and a single hamburger with extra ketchup and fries.” You sat the plates in front of the correct recipients of their order. “Is there anything else I can get ya? Refills, maybe a milkshake?”

“A strawberry milkshake, but only if we can share, doll face.” You looked at the black haired man as the blonde across from him stifled a laugh. You bit your inner lip taking a deep breath and tried not to break your smile.

“So you won’t be needing anything else. Wonderful.” You reached into your apron pocket and pulled out your order book. You ripped out their order and lightly slammed it on there table. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to check you out due to the fact that my break is about to start, so just take your receipt up to the register and Sal will check ya out.”

The black haired man sent a glare but quickly recomposed himself with a smirk. “No problem, doll. A milkshake tomorrow, then?” You unwillingly bit your tongue and just smiled.

“We’ll see.” You said and turned. You tried to not stomp as you walked back and pushed open the kitchen door, but it didn’t work. You could hear them laughing as you yanked your punch card off the wall.

“Don’t let them get ya.” Sal said as you went ahead and punched your time card into the machine signaling you were officially off the clock. You yanked off your apron and threw it on the clean counter by the freezer.

“Yeah, uh huh, I’m headed to Scoops. You want me to bring you back anything?” You said as you took your hair out of that headache inducing high ponytail. As you fluffed your hair out you took a deep breath and exhaled, clearly exhausted from working the morning and afternoon shifts.

“No thank you. Watching my figure.” You chuckled as you walked past him patting him on the back.

“Suit yourself.” You said as you walked out into the nearly dead mall. You figured the heat index was keeping everyone either inside or at the pool, but you honestly didn’t expect the mall to look this empty. It was weird to only have to walk past people and not forcefully push your way past.

Starcourt was Hawkins newest addition and it’s busiest. Which was sort of sad as you saw local businesses close one by one. You overheard of a scheduled protest to take place on the lawn of City Hall, but other than that, nothing was really being done to help savage Hawkin’s local flare. You weren't doing much to help it either, I mean hell, you worked for Starcourt. There wasn’t anything you could really do, you tried to get a job down main street, but alas no one would hire you. Mainly because they couldn’t afford to pay you for any work you might actually stumble upon.

So, naturally, you ended up working in Prime Time 50s Diner on the first floor right across from Hot Dog On A Stick. Which was just as depressing as it sounded. Hot Dog On A Stick was busier than the diner nine times out of ten and you legitimately thought about moving across the way just for something more to do.

As you stepped on the escalator you spotted the bright flashing bulbs of the big Scoops Ahoy sign. You enjoyed ice cream and even though you had ice cream at your job you couldn’t resist the getaway from the smell of greasy cheeseburgers and the constant repeat of the same old songs. You walked your way into Scoops Ahoy glancing at the few people eating ice cream inside. No employee in sight as you approached the front counter. You smirked and began to ring the front bell in front of the register rather obnoxiously. You loved this stupid little bell it was a great way to get under Robin’s skin. You stopped ringing the bell and just stood there for a split second and rang it one more time. You snickered and headed over to look at the ice cream flavors they had today. Contemplating on trying something new or not, you wouldn’t, but it was always nice to look.

Your ears perked up as you heard shuffling to the door, a thud, and then a sliding window open.

“Ahoy!” Robin said with a tone of annoyance in her voice. Her face sarcastically fell realizing it was just you and you smiled. A slight smirk found her face when you giggled at her.

“Ahoy there!” You said as you lazily gave her a two finger salute. You both let out a laugh and she walked around and met you on the other side of the counter.

“What are you up to?” She asked and you just shrugged.

“Same old, same old.” You smirked as you saw Robin grab your favorite flavor. “You know I could’ve changed my mind, I could’ve wanted the U.S.S. Butterscotch.”

“As if.” Robin said as she rolled her eyes. You always knew of Robin, you, of course, went to high school together and knew each other through passing. But you never were friends. You simply just knew of each other and that was that, until one day during your lunch break you guys started talking.

The food court was packed and almost every seat was filled, except for two right across from each other. You sat on one side and Robin sat across from you on the other side. You started friendly conversation not expecting much of anything to come from it.

“So, you work at the 50s place?” She asked trying to keep her gaze towards you limited. You wondered what she actually thought of you. You hoped that you never did anything to offend or hurt her in high school because she was proving to be pretty cool and not just the band geek you originally thought.

“Yeah.” You said with a friendly smile, wondering how much she remembered of you from high school.

You were the Queen of Hawkins and the ruthless truth rang down the halls as you called people out on their bullshit. If they started something you would sure as hell would end it. Not in any physically violent way, but words do cut like knives.

You understood that, but you couldn’t stop yourself once the thought entered your brain. People liked seeing you be a bitch, so you were a bitch. For six hours a day five days a week, you were Queen of Hawkins High, the Bitch of Indy, not (Y/N).

“You should stop by, it’ll be on me.” You smiled honestly wanting to give Robin a chance. You were tired of being lonely and pretending. You wanted a friend, an actual friend, something you haven’t had in a long time. It was time to be an adult.

Robin’s head shot up as her eyes meet with yours. There was some sort of gleam in her eyes, like she was finally able to hang out with the popular girl. Your eyes met hers with a shared excitement.

Now, this was something new and you planned to just let the walls you built crumble a bit and you were genuinely excited. High school was over and you could be who you wanted to be, who you should have been.

“Maybe tomorrow, lunch?” You questioned and she nodded. You stood up and apologized due to the fact your break was over. “Great. I have to get going. I’ll see you then.”

“See you then.” Robin said with a smirk as she returned to her Chinese food.

The next day she met you for lunch and you gave being open a chance. You didn’t expect Robin to stay after that, but she did. She put up with your stubbornness and your tendencies to shut down, and actually stuck around and helped you out of that hole you were stuck in for so long.

You told each other everything and you both knew everything about each other. Even Robin’s biggest secret which was actually pretty funny because you thought she was dying when she very mysteriously “had something she needed to tell you before your friendship could continue”.

“Seriously? That’s it?” You questioned.

“Yeah.” She said shakily and she was so nervous. “I’m a lesbian and I understand if that’s a problem and you don’t want to be friends-.”

“Robin.” You cut her off abruptly. “I thought you were dying. Dying. You being gay doesn’t matter to me. As long as you are happy I will always support you. You are my best friend and I have no idea where I’d be without you.” You pulled her into a hug, holding back tears. Robin let a few slip, but would never admit it. As you parted you put your hands on her shoulders.

“Movie night?” You asked smiling.

“Movie night.” She affirmed.

“What are you up to tonight?” You asked her.

“Not much of anything. Movie night?” She asked as she handed you ice cream and as you took it you nodded. You shoved money into the tip jar knowing that she wouldn’t take it. She rolled her eyes and you heard another thud from the back. You raised an eyebrow and tried to glance around her. She quickly fidgeted so you couldn’t take a peak, not that you’d be able to see into the break room that was down the hall.

“What is going on back there? Did they finally hire some help?”

“Just some shelf assembly.” Robin said and you raised an eyebrow quizzically. What type of shelf was being put together? What idiot was assembling it? “But, yeah they finally hired help. What movies are you thinking of for tonight? I was thinking maybe a classic or something along those lines.” She tried to gently ease the conversation away from the noise that came from the back. You just shrugged.

“Anything works tonight.” You said taking a lick from the ice cream cone as you studied Robin. She’s hiding something and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Robin knew something you didn’t. “Who is your new co-worker? It isn’t Tommy is it?” You stifled a laugh picturing Tommy in the sailor uniform. You leaned against the counter continuing to eat your ice cream.

“Ah ha, no. So, about this movie how do you feel about Dargonslayer, I heard-.”

“So you are avoiding the co-worker conversation.” You cut her off and grinned. “Do I know them? Is it Tammy? C’mon just tell me-.” You went to finish but was cut off by the loudest thud thus far.

All conversation stopped in Scoops Ahoy as you and Robin made desperate eye contact before you both ran into the back. As you both took a sharp turn into the break room your eyes locked with the complete and utter idiot who was laying underneath the poorly constructed steel shelf.

“Harrington?” You spat, your actions not correlating with your wicked tone as you went to pull the shelf back onto its four legs.

“(Y/L/N)?” He questioned his eyes not leaving you as he pushed the shelf off of him as you pulled it up. The shelf wasn’t completed therefore it wasn’t that heavy but it was in fact tall. When you had it back and up straight you crossed your arms as Robin gave Steve a helping hand up.

You crossed your arms and glared at him.

“What are you doing here?” He asked as he dusted himself off. Robin chewed the inside of her cheek knowing it was only a matter of time before you and Steve crossed paths.

“Why are you failing to assemble a simple shelf?” You questioned and he mocked you. You could cut the tension in the room it was so thick.

“Ha, well I think it’s time for you to scurry out of here. Besides you aren’t supposed to back here anyways..” Robin said with a clap trying to relive some of that bottled up tension, being no stranger to the rocky relationship you and Steve had.

“Yeah, Scoops Ahoy employees only.” Steve said as he went back to the shelf and its instructions. Steve wanted to continue to look at you, but knew it was best to turn away.

“Right.” You said not wanting to hang around anyway.

“Right.” He said as he picked up a screw driver.

“I’ll see you tonight, Robin. 7 as usual.” You said as you left. You took a lick of your ice cream cone and shuttered. It no longer tasted as sweet nor as refreshing as it usually did. You couldn’t believe that Steve Harrington was the newest Scoops Ahoy employee. Throwing the ice cream in the trash you left Scoops Ahoy with mixed emotions.

Robin went to call after you but decided to let it go. She glared at Steve and Steve just looked back at her somewhat confused.

“What did I do? Are you guys friends?” Steve asked as he put the last screw into the shelf to make it sturdy. He was clearly disgruntled, something Robin hasn’t really seen on Steve. He was just fine not too long ago, going on about how Dustin was to be coming back from camp soon.

“What is with you two? You guys have been bickering back and forth, since, well the whole King and Queen thing started.” Robin said as she began to help Steve by putting boxes of plastic utensils on the newly constructed shelf. You never told Robin the real reason you and Steve were at each other's throat, she asked one time, but didn’t get anywhere.

“Some people just don’t get along.” Steve grunted, a hint of sadness lingering. It was out of character, well as far as Robin was concerned, to see Steve get so upset so fast. Not to mention stay upset about something.

“Something has to have happened. I believe you guys were fairly close in middle school.” Robin said and Steve just sighed.

“Harrington!” You yelled from the end of the middle school hallway as kids tried to rush past you and out the school.

“(Y/L/N)!” Steve yelled back as he shut his locker and lightly jogged down to the end of the hall to meet you. As he met you with a smile you both walked out of the school and continued on the way down to the end of the street. You and Steve both walked home and went in the same general direction, so it just made sense to Steve for you both to just walk together. Thus, a friendship was born.

“Did you see Mrs. Karly today? What was the deal with those glasses? They made her look like an owl.” He said and you both laughed picturing the big bright orange circular glasses on Mr. Karly’s thin and brittle face.

“Well it was nothing compared to Carol’s new braces.” You chuckled smiling at Steve as both your laughter died down.

Once you guys where further away from the school you sighed and your head fell. Steve could sense that something wasn’t quite right with you and he playfully pushed your shoulder.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked as he could feel a type of fear grow in his stomach.

“It’s nothing really. I think I’m just worrying for no reason…Maybe?” You questioned facing him.

“Spill the beans, (Y/N).” He said and you just sighed.

“Do you think we will still be friends, Steve. In high school? I mean we only have one more semester of middle school, one, and then a new cycle of everything begins.” You let the words fall from your mouth as you tugged on your back pack straps.

Steve looked at you baffled wondering why you would think he’d leave you. Steve really liked you, really liked you. You were funny, and honest, and not to mention very pretty. What would bring him to not have you around him in the slightest had to end.

“Of course we will.” He said in a stern tone unsure of how to exactly convince you he didn’t want to be anywhere you weren't. You laughed and the way he looked at you with such seriousness made your checks warm.

“Yeah, of course, we will.” You said with a smile as you looked at Steve. He coughed and looked away as a hand found the back of his neck, his body temperature rising causing him to flush red. You laughed and punched him in the shoulder and you both just died of laughter.

When you both parted ways that night to your proper houses, you both had a lot to think about.

“Just forget about it.” Steve said, clearly cranky and an out of place redness to his face. “She’s your friend, why don’t you ask her.”

“After how upset you just made her, with only saying, what, eleven words in total to her. I’m clearly afraid to ask her anything.” Robin and Steve finished putting the multiple boxes from the floor onto the shelves. “So,  go on, what exactly happened? High school is over, right?” Steve rolled his eyes and pulled out a chair from the break room table and sat down. Steve hasn’t really talked about you since his last rant about you to Nancy Wheeler.

“I just don’t understand! It’s like she’s lost her goddamn mind! What is she thinking getting between Carol and Tommy like that?” Steve exclaimed to Nancy. Nancy was listening to Steve, but her mind was also going elsewhere with thoughts of Barb’s parents and how her and Steve had to cancel dinner, yet again.  “She’s not stupid, Nance. She has to know that Carol isn’t taking this lightly.” Steve said with frustration as he ran his hand through his hair. Nancy just nodded making a noise of affirmation.

Steve was trying to focus on the road and wrap his head around your actions and why all of a sudden you chose to mess around with Tommy. Tommy, of all people, Tommy. Really? It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his blood boil at just the thought of Tommy.

He was a giant prick! If anyone knew that, you did! You constantly reprimanded Tommy. He couldn’t believe it when he first overheard some people in the hallway gossiping about it. You hated Tommy, you have since fifth grade. Tommy! Who’s next, that new guy, Billy? Steve’s hand moved from his hair as he put it out of the car window. Steve grunted as subconsciously his foot put more weight on the gas.

Why are you fucking around and acting like a child? Is it because he hasn’t apologized for what he said at that party junior year? Is it because you needed some type of drama? What ever happened to Michael McEvers? Were you just lonely and would just take anyone? What was he chopped liver?!

“Steve!” Nancy shouted and Steve brought his full attention back to the road and the stop sign fast approaching. Steve’s foot slammed on the break as he watched the blue Camaro race past their four way stop. Steve and Nancy both caught their breath and looked at each other. Steve took a deep breath and just slammed his hands against the steering wheel. Nancy, finally pulled out of her own thoughts  of guilt began to comfort Steve as he laid his head against the steering wheel and sighed.

Somehow, he managed to make it through a lecture from his father this morning, starting yet another college application, a rough basketball practice with Billy joining the team, and a deep conversation with Nancy that nearly avoided a break up. And this, this was just the icing on the cake. Steve’s eyes started to water.

“Steve, honey, it’s okay.” Nancy’s brows furrowed as she cooed and rubbed Steve’s back.

“She just-. I just-.” Steve began but kept getting cut off by his own sobs. “I should’ve stuck around. I shouldn’t have blown her off. I kept meaning to call. I keep meaning to show up at her door and talk with her. I should’ve been there for (Y/N), Nancy. Why wasn’t I there?” Steve sat up and put the car in park. “O-Oh yeah, that’s right I was too busy being an absolute a-ass.” Steve sniffed trying to pull it together. Nancy leaned against Steve’s shoulder and ran her hand up and down his arm.

“Steve, things happen. People get busy, especially after what we just went through. You can’t let yourself be responsible for everyone. It’s okay.” Nancy said as she placed a kiss on his cheek and genuinely felt bad for Steve. Steve just sighed out a chuckle and shook his head slowly. He could’ve fixed things with you. Steve took another big sniff and without even thinking he just started speaking.

“I just miss (Y/N), so much, Nance. If I could go back and get her, I would. In a heartbeat.” Steve rubbed his red and irritated eyes and his mind just focused on you.

They sat there as Nancy seriously began to contemplate on her and Steve’s relationship, and the relationships they didn’t take.

Steve regretfully looked at Robin as she sat on the edge of her seat. Steve sighed and took a deep breath.

“We just got into a fight. That’s all.”

“You can’t just leave it at that. I need to know the details.” Robin said with a raging curiosity in her mind. Robin knew that you would tell her in your own time, but she wanted to know now. It was hard to admit but Steve’s goofiness was growing on her and the fact that he actually did stuff at Scoops and she wasn’t alone anymore made her life a lot easier. Robin looked furiously at Steve and he just sighed.

“Take a seat.” He said and gestured to the other seat. As Robin took a seat, Steve thought about where to begin. It’s funny how you can recall things in such vivid detail and once someone asks you what happened you can’t find the words to say to describe it.

A laugh escaped both yours and Steve’s lips as you flopped down on the king sized bed that belonged to Tammy Thompson’s parents. You both laid next to each other on the bed. Neither of you were drunk, just a little tipsy. You both had drunk enough just to find each other and sneak off together.

As you stared at the ceiling Steve’s eyes were glued to you. He took in the way your hair fanned out onto the bed and how it looked against the dark purple comforter. He wondered what was going on in that head of yours and how he could work his way in there and take up as much of your attention as he could.  

As you rolled your head over to look at him and you had a big goofy smile on your face. A redness started to become present on your cheeks.

“What?” You questioned as you playfully punched him on the shoulder. You focused on blinking as if your eyes were cameras taking pictures of this moment and capturing it so you could put those pictures into a scrapbook.

“You are beautiful, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” He said with rose tinted cheeks that he blamed the booze on. He also blamed the booze on this need to be close to you, this need to tell you how wonderful you are, and how he had to be touching you. As his hand laid against yours his eyes studied the way your lips looked, and he couldn’t help but wonder what flavor chapstick they tasted like.  

“Shut up, Steve. You’re drunk.” You stated as you snuck a glance at his lips telling yourself not to linger for too long. You couldn’t make that mistake tonight, even though the thought of both your lips synchronized in harmony against each other warmed you to your core.

“What, and you’re not?” Steve asked as he looked into your eyes. You bit your lip, like a tease, and Steve swore on God that you were going to be the death of him. He wanted your body pressed against his, he wanted his hands to roam over every square inch of your body, he needed to know how your lips felt against his. As his thoughts drove him insane he came to the conclusion that tonight, wasn’t the night for that. Not while you both of you were almost off your asses, you deserved better. He wanted to give you better.

You turned on your side as you propped yourself up you began to think about that one conversation you had on that one walk home from school. Your mind quick to distract yourself from the intrusive thoughts of Steve.

“Why didn’t we stay friends, Steve?” You questioned sadly, not exactly wanting to take that road. It was too late now and now you had to know.

“We still are friends.” Steve lied looking up at the ceiling and away from you. Steve couldn’t look at you and lie, he couldn’t handle the way your features settled into disappointment.

“Bullshit. We really aren’t, Steve. This is the first night in, like, forever that we have had an actual fragment of a conversation.” You said exasperated, beginning to get annoyed.

“(Y/N), can we not, can we just-.” You sighed and sat up. As sadness filled the room where drunken laughter once rang out. Steve followed you quickly and reached for your wrist. “Hey. C’mon, (Y/N), what does it matter?  We are friends right now. Stay with me.” You yanked your arm away from his gentle grip.

“What does it matter?” You said standing up and Steve sighed. Your heart broke. Steve sat up straight up as he felt the consequences of what he said.

He fucked up, he royally fucked up.

“It matters because I’ve tried calling and everytime I did your mom answered and said you were out. Or that- that you had a friend over to help you study.” You said putting air quotes around the words “out” and “study”.

“I’ve been busy.” Steve said, and he has been. Trying to navigate his way through his feelings and thoughts. Evaluating what he wanted and building a reputation along the way. You just chuckled and Steve stood up annoyed. “Like you haven’t?” He questioned with an edge to his voice. Trying to keep the volume down not wanting anyone to overhear.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You questioned and Steve stood there dumbfounded. You weren’t with him, therefore you had to have been busy.

“You know what it’s supposed to mean. I’ve seen you around with Michael and his crew of football cronies!” His voice raised and stern, any thought of keeping anyone from hearing gone. You let out a sharp laugh. “Which has apparently given you a complex to just go and call anyone out. You yelled at Tommy just this past week.”

“Tommy needed to be yelled at! He was ogling up Barb and Nancy like they were greasy hamburgers fresh off the grill!”

“That’s what Tommy does! He’s harmless!” Steve bickered back.

“So that’s supposed to make it okay?” You questioned raising your brows and looking at him in disbelief.

“What? No, of course not!” You just shook your head and rolled your eyes.

“Then why don’t you say anything? Why don’t you call Tommy out on his bullshit? Ever! You just stand there with this look on your face. It’s like you know what you are doing is wrong but you don’t do anything about it! You just stand there with this shit eating grin and it’s not you! It’s not you.” You yelled and Steve was left speechless. He didn’t know what to say and even if he did, he wouldn’t know how to say it. Tears were threatening to start to pour, but you just sniffed refusing to start crying.

Steve wanted to apologize. Steve knew you were right. Steve understood that his actions weren’t a true reflection of who he was. He was just lost and the attention he was getting wasn’t something he wanted to give up, yet. So as most things go.

“Not me? (Y/N), you don’t know me! You don’t know shit about me and you can’t stand here and lecture me when you have your own title you don’t even live up too! Queen of Hawkins my ass! You show off this fake face to everyone and feed into their obsession of seeing if they can please you or not. They see this mean character that you mask around as and you love it!” He yelled and you just laughed because you knew he was right to a point.

“Yeah, well, at least they get honesty from me!” You shouted back at him.

“Do they get the complete honest you, though?” Steve asked his voice lowering, selfishly hoping that he was the only one that knew this you. The real you. You stood there refusing to give him the ‘no’ he wanted and you gritted your teeth as you headed for the door. As your hand gripped the door knob you took a deep shaky breath and then exhaled. As you faced Steve with a couple tears leaking out of your eyes. Steve’s demeanor softened and he regretted everything he just said. He went to bring you into a him but stopped as you flinched away from him. You longed for his embrace but you knew it would shatter your already broken pieces. Steve stood frozen, broken, and hesitantly awaiting for you to say something. Anything.

“Like you said, ‘what does it matter’? We all put on these facades and we don’t get hurt. I don’t get hurt.” You said as strongly as you could as you opened the door and began to walk away from the room as quickly as you could without alerting the rest of the party that something had happened in that room. Steve just looked at the empty doorway and his jaw tightened. He paced the length of the bed thinking.

“Shit.” He shouted frustrated with himself. What was he doing? Maybe it wasn’t too late to change. Maybe he could fix things, fix this. Steve took strong strives out the door and he began to scan the hall for you. His pace quickened as he repeated your name.

“(Y/N).” He tried to say audible enough for you to hear over the blaring music as you made a beeline for the stairs.

“(Y/N)! I need-!” Steve was cut off by a sharp hit on his shoulders. It was Tommy.

“You slept with (Y/N)?” He asked with a sinister grin and a light laugh.

“What? No, Tommy I need to get-.” Steve went to begin.

“You dog!” Tommy shouted. “King Steve! King Steve! King Steve!” As Tommy began to chant the whole party started to join in. With their chants getting louder and louder you turned and glared at Steve.

Steve’s heart broke and your glassy eyes told him enough. You stumbled down the stairs and away from the chanting upstairs.

“(Y/N), wait!” Steve shouted as he began to take off after you. The chanting followed Steve down the stairs, Tommy sinsterly lurking behind him. His eyes glued to the back of your head as he tried to get as close as he could to you. He didn’t want to let go, he wanted to fix this.

As you were almost out the door you tripped over the now stained welcome mat and into Michael McEvers arms.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” Michael asked concerned pulling you up and you just nodded while trying to dry your eyes and sniffling. Steve was so close to touching you when Michael’s eyes met Steve’s he knew Steve did something. “Get away from her, Harrington!” Michael shouted as he pulled you out into the porch and slammed the door behind you. Steve went to go after you to make things right but Tommy’s hand found Steve’s shoulder holding him back.

“Let the slut go. C’mon we can get you another.” Tommy said wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulders.

Maybe it was best that he let you go. He’d only say the wrong things and hurt you even more. He couldn’t fix this, he couldn’t make things right, it was just too late. He had to accept that. Michael was a good guy anyway, he could give you things Steve couldn’t. Steve took a deep breath furrowing his brows as a headache started to form.

“Let’s get you wasted.” Tommy said as he went to go get Steve a drink. Being wasted and feeling as light as air sounded a hell of a lot better than how heavy and broken he felt now.

As Steve finished his brief synopsis of your guys’s argument to Robin, guilt settled in his stomach.

“And you didn’t say anything after that night?”

“No, I figured it was best to leave her be. She didn’t need me anymore. Or at all to be completely honest.” Steve said as the bell from outside rang and he stood up pushing in the chair and working his way to the front. Robin followed him on his heels. He silently thanked whatever customer rang the front bell.

“Are you serious?” She questioned wondering how someone could be so stupid.

“I wasn’t going to waste my breath.” Steve said. He thought about making it up to you countless times. But, one time he called when he really needed you, desperately needed you, you couldn’t get to the phone.

“You are joking?” Robin was astounded with how much of an idiot Steve was being.

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” You strained out through a hick-up as you leaned against Robin’s shoulder looking at both of your reflections in the pool. Robin just laughed.

“Let me just waltz up to Tammy Thompson and say, ‘Hey! I really like you and I think you should’ve been gazing into my eyes instead of at that stupid Steve Harrington!’ yeah, you do that and then tell me how well it works for you.” Robin continued to laugh. It was a movie night and for some reason you couldn’t focus on that dumb rom-com you picked. Which lead to you sneaking some beers from your dad's “secret” stash and hiding out in the backyard wasted with Robin. Sitting on the side of the pool with your bare feet in the water and you smiled sadly. Steve, “the hair”, Harrington. King Steve. You snickered at the thought of him and you could almost smell a faint hint of Farrier Fawcett hairspray.

“What made you two go at each other’s throats all the time?” Robin just asked. You looked at her confused.

“You and Steve. You guys were always bickering and it literally made no sense. I mean you were Queen and he was King of Hawkins. Why didn’t you guys run the place together?” You nodded sadly understanding what Robin was saying.

“Yeah, I really liked, Steve. Like I mean I liked him.” You said with an emphasis on “liked”, but it was so much more than the simple like.

“Oh.” Robin said shortly understanding fully well how that stuff works.

“But then he turned into ass hat McAsserton and everything changed. He just pissed me off so much, and it wasn't him, like, I know Steve Harrington. He is such a goof and he was being someone I knew, I knew he wasn’t and I just couldn’t stand it. He’s such an-.”

“He’s changed, y’know.” Robin cut you off. “He’s lonely.” Steve had just hired in at Scoops Ahoy and Robin could tell that something had changed and for the better. You scoffed and slid off of her shoulder as you laid on the wood deck connected to the above ground pool.

“Okay.” You snorted refusing to get your hopes up.

“If you could change why couldn’t he?” Robin stated as she leaned back to joining you. “Think about it.” Robin was right as she usually was. You took a deep breath and thought about that night. You should talk to him. You should go see him. You should be there. Then maybe this weight on your chest would be gone. This summer you would finally patch things up with Steve Harrington once and for all. A creed you pushed aside in the morning once the hangover was gone.

“Well, I think you could do better than Tammy anyway.” You said as you turned your head and looked at her with a smile.

“You think?” Robin asked knowing what you were doing, but she just let it be. She wasn’t going to force you to talk about anything you didn’t want to talk about.

“Oh my god, definitely, Robin.” You both laughed as your thoughts wondered about Steve.

“Don’t you miss her?” Robin asked, her tone giving away her confusion.

“Of course I miss her, Robin.” Steve said in a matter of fact tone. “What can I get for you?” Steve asked as he pulled out his ice cream scoop from it’s holster around his waist. He twirled it in his hand as the old lady examined the flavors.

“You do understand that all of this could be solved by just talking to her. Right?” Robin said with her hands on her hips and a serious look in her eyes.

“Gee, I never thought of that.” Steve said with an airy laugh.

“How about the mint chocolate chip?” The lady said squinting trying to figure out who exactly she was talking to.

“You could have fooled me, Steve.” Steve made a ‘tsk’ sound as he shook his head and began scooping up some ice cream.

“It’s a lot easier said than done when you have that much history with someone, especially someone as stubborn as her. Also, she could come to me, y’know.” Steve said putting the ice cream into a sugar cone and taking it down to the register handing it to the old lady not even bothering to ring her up. “It’s on the house.” Steve said frustrated, what if you didn’t want him around anyway.

“Why thank you, Miss.” She said taking it and hobiling away. Robin stifled a laugh as Steve threw his hands in the air out of frustration. Today has not been his day.

“Steve.” Robin said straightening up bringing her focus back to the matter at hand. “Do you honestly think the Queen of Hawkins would go to you first? Especially when she was in the height of her high school career? Honestly? Especially after the whole school branded her a slut after that party. Which you totally should have done something about, by the way. Jumping from you to Michael when she didn’t even have a thing with either of you.” Steve stood up straight.

“She didn’t have a thing with Michael? They were dating, holding hands in the hall and everything.” Steve said feeling completely and utterly confused.

“No, dingus. Michael’s-. (Y/N) fake dated him to keep it from getting out that him and Tyler were, well,-.” Robin said not exactly knowing how to phrase what she was saying. She tried to be cautious not knowing how Steve would take the news that Michael McEvers was totally gay. “A thing.” She said with little fear while she scanned Scoops Ahoy with her prefils hoping the two people there weren’t catching on.

“Michael McEvers?” Steve questioned wondering how he didn’t pick up on it. Then again he could’ve sworn Jonathan Byers was gay, but he was currently seriously invoved with Nancy. “Wait, how do you know that?” Steve asked Robin with an eyebrow raised.

“(Y/N) told me.” Robin said quick to get any suspicious thoughts about herself away from the conversation.

“Shit.” Steve mumbled.

“Y’know I think that pale yellow looks great on you, Mike.” You said as you straightened up Michael’s cardigan.

“Really?” He questioned.

“Of course.” You said as you leaned against the lockers. “Tyler doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Michael shut his locker as he awkwardly took your hand.

“Thank you, for all this.” Michael said quietly and you just smiled.

“Please don’t mention it.” You smiled softly as you both walked down the hall.

“Do you want to go to the movies tonight? Tyler will meet us there.”

“Yeah. Of course.” You said and Michael continued to talk. As you and Michael walked to Algebra you both passed Nancy and Steve. Yours and Steve’s eyes locked, a sadness lingering over the noisy hall. As you passed you looked straight ahead while Steve looked back.

“Steve?” Nancy questioned.

“Uh huh.” Steve said and looked back at Nancy.

“You have basketball tonight, right?”

“Right.” Steve said as he let go of Nancy’s hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“So a double cheeseburger with a side of onion rings and a large coke to go.” You read off the order to Billy while simultaneously ringing it up.

“You got it, Queen.” Billy said with a wink and you rolled your eyes. Billy had a fascination with you and he couldn’t just place his finger on what made you so different. He liked your attitude and he liked the way you handled yourself.

You and Billy never got together, together, and maybe that’s why he liked you, you weren't throwing yourself at his feet.

Usually when Billy was around you were open and gentle with him, because you could tell he was dealing with something that he couldn’t handle. You wanted Billy to know if, or when, he wanted to talk that you were here.

“What’s the matter, doll?” Billy asked before he could even think about why he even asked.

“Nothing, Billy.” You sighed as you sent the order to Sal. The diner still as empty as it was an hour ago.

“C’mon. I haven’t seen you this frustrated since I almost T-boned Harrington’s car.” Billy laughed.

“That wasn’t funny, he and Nancy could’ve really gotten hurt. Not to mention we could’ve really gotten hurt.” You said leaning against the counter facing him.

“It was an adrenaline trip and you can’t deny that. Almost had you in my lap.” He laughed and you smirked.

“You and I remember that drive very differently then.” You laughed and crossed your arms. Billy smirked trying to think of something that might cheer you up. Maybe keep that smile around.

“Do you remember that Halloween party? Do you remember Tommy being shit faced and his face just colliding with the porch cement out back. He always was a giant prick.” Billy laughed and you did to. You didn’t go to that Halloween party but you had heard about it. You were appreciating what Billy was trying to do so you just went along with it nodding and laughing.

“Mom! Get the phone, please! I’m kind of busy!” You yelled as the phone rang off the hook and you tried to paint your nails with your non dominant hand and flip a page in your magazine at the same time. The last thing you wanted to do was answer the phone to a drunk sobbing Carol asking why you weren’t at this party to comfort her while Tommy hit on anything with a pulse. Steve was also there with Nancy and you didn’t feel like feeling like shit for once. You didn’t want to be jealous of Nancy anymore. You didn’t want to see them. As the phone stopped ringing, your mom obviously not grabbing it, you just sighed. Finally, just some time by yourself. Nice and quiet-. Your thoughts suddenly interrupted by the phone ringing again.

“Mom!” You yelled as your aggravation got the better of you.

“Hold on!” Your mom yelled from downstairs as she shut the door on a couple of trick or treaters in ghostbuster costumes. As she sauntered her way over to the phone she picked it up with a friendly hello.

“The (Y/L/N) residents, (Y/M/N) speaking.”

“H-Hey, Mrs. (Y/L/N). I-It’s a- um Steve. Is (Y/N) around by any chance?” Steve choked out through tears.

“Steve Harrington?” Your mom questioned with an edge to her voice.

“Uh,-.” Steve coughed. “Yeah, Steve Harrington.” He said his voice breaking while he was hoping to God you were home. Your mom chewed the inside of her cheek as she contemplated her next few words as wisely as she could. She knew Steve and she knew that he sent you into multiple whirl winds of consent confusion.

“Mr. Harrington, if you know what is good for you, you’d leave (Y/N) alone and you wouldn’t dare to call this number again.” She threatened and hung up the phone.

Steve on the other end was a mess of tears while his heart felt like a black hole. Steve nodded swallowing back tears. His house was empty, it was just him and the mind numbing silence.

You got up from your desk and went down the stairs to see your mom glaring at the telephone and you were completely bewildered by her strange and unusual attitude. The doorbell rang and as you went to the kitchen she went towards the door.

What could that phone call possibly be about to make your mother's whole attitude change on a dime.

“One double cheeseburger with side onion rings to go!” Sal shouted and as you picked up the to go bag and coke you glanced at the clock. Only 30 minutes left to your shift then Jessica comes in to replace you.

“Well, Billy here you go.” You said as you handed Billy his to go bag of grease.

“(Y/N), if you need a time out, you know my number.” Billy said with a sly smile. His intentions were truly pure, maybe Billy was also growing old of the part he used to play. You smiled at him not breaking eye contact.

“I know, Billy. I know.” you said as Billy completely took the bag and gave you a cheeky wink.

“I’ll see you later, alright?” He said as he turned and left.

“Whatever you say, Billy.” You chuckled and waved. As you watched him leave you heard Sal whistle.

“What?” You snapped as you had a light glare targeted at him.

“You two would be cute together, that’s all.” You rolled your eyes, unfortunately a lover wasn’t on the agenda for you. But, when did your agenda ever go as planned?  

Steve was on the escalator on his way down to the first floor to grab himself and Robin a corn dog as a little snack that wasn’t ice cream. On his way over there he peered into the diner and saw Billy leaving. Steve just scoffed as he hopped off the elevator peering through the big open entrance of the diner catching glimpses of you. As he headed towards Hot Dog On A Stick he stopped. He could see your full frame as you laughed at something someone must’ve said. As he leaned against the pillar near him he examined how when you laughed your hand found your mouth. Steve chuckled as his cheeks grew pink and his stomach flipped excitedly.

He wanted to make things better and that’s all he’s been able to think about since hearing your voice earlier. Since he saw you earlier.

Steve didn’t think he’d ever even see you again. He thought for sure you’d be packed up and out on your own, away from Hawkins, away from him. College bound with the world at your feet. Maybe it was a sign? Maybe it was time. It’s been so long, too long. A peace offering. He needed a peace offering. His brain told him to move, to get going. To use this excitement that was coursing through his veins to pull something together. But his body didn’t move, instead he continued to lean against that pillar and look at you. Just look at you and the way when you really started to laugh you you would throw your head back. He just wanted to look at you for a while longer.

“I swear you just want me to leave.” You said as your laughter died down. You glanced out into the mall and your eyes unexpectedly locked with Steve’s. A light smile on your face as Steve quickly looked away and took off towards Hot Dog On A Stick. You sighed, just talk to him. He wasn’t going to bite, quit being stubborn and grow up.

“Hey, Sal, I’ll be right back. I’ve got something I have to do real quick.” You said and began to lightly jog out of the restaurant and catch up with Steve.

“Hey. Hey!” Sal called and you just waved. Sal rolled his eyes as your eyes locked on the back of Steve’s head. Enough is enough. You are an adult now. You can pick up after yourself and mend relationships. As you finally caught up to Steve and stood behind him in line, and you were about to touch his shoulder to get his attention when all of that confidence left and was replaced with doubt. What if he was still mad? What are you doing? He should be coming to you. He’s the one that fucked up, not you. Turn around and go back.

“I can help you over here, ma’am.” Said a spunky looking teenage girl in a bright and obnoxious primary colored uniform. She pulled you out of your thoughts causing Steve to glance behind him.

“I, uh-.” You began but was cut off by Steve.

“She’s with me.” Steve said quickly, praying that you actually were with him. If you said yes it would make it easier to explain the apology corn dog, if not he’d probably get cold feet and give not only your corn dog to Robin, but his own.

“Uh, um, yeah.” You said awkwardly and he smiled letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “I’m with him.” So cold feet weren’t an option. Steve had to go through with this long over do make up conversation. You smiled and the girl at the other register just rolled her eyes.

“Three corn dogs.” Said a man in front of Steve holding them between his fingers. Steve broke eye contact with you, turned, and grabbed the corn dogs.

“Thanks.” He said with a smile and handed over some cash. “Keep the change.” Steve spit out quickly as he turned back to you.

“Let’s go for a walk.” You stated not giving Steve the option to turn you down.

“Definitely.” As you both walked out into the nearly empty food court you held your hands behind your back. How did this work? How do you talk to someone you know so well, but were mere strangers with.

“This.” Steve said holding out a corn dog. “This is for you. If you want it of course. I wanted to get you one so we could start talking. Well, I could start talking to you, make it less awkward and maybe soften you up a bit.” Steve let out an awkward laugh and you just smiled. “I don’t even know if you really like corn dogs. I know you used to. I remember when we went to the state fair and you got one that was the size of your head. You said it was good, but people's taste buds change. I guess I should’ve gone with candy, or maybe flowers. I should’ve thought this out-.”

“Steve, you’re beginning to ramble.” You said taking the corn dog. Only Steve Harrington, only Steve Harrington.

“Right, so.” He said before starting in on his corn dog. God, this was hard. You both walked in an awkwardly comfortable silence and before too long Steve’s corn dog was gone. Steve’s always been a nervous eater, it was quite an adorable little quirk he had. You took a bite of your corn dog and held the corn dog closer to him, signaling you’d share yours with him.

“This is a bit weird.” You said as Steve leaned and took a bite of your corn dog. He didn’t say anything but he did agree. It’s been almost two years since you didn’t snap at him the first time you saw him and he didn’t run away. You took another bite of your corn dog and then passed it back to Steve.

“Y’know, I think the sailor uniform fits you, it’s kind of cute.” You laughed and Steve almost choked.  

“S-Seriously?” He laughed and you couldn’t wipe the grin from your face.

“Seriously.” You said with a nod as you guys continued to walk down through the food court. No idea where you were going or how much time has passed. It felt like you’ve been walking for hours, both your corn dogs gone and Robin’s getting cold. When in reality it was only mere minutes since you’ve left the register at Hot Dog On A Stick. You caught a glimpse of  Jessica walking into the diner.

“Steve, I, uh, I’ve got to go. Maybe-.” You started trying to break away from this until you had yourself together and you could put together what you wanted to say and how you wanted to say it.

“I’m sorry.” Steve blurted out. He had to say this before you left. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve listened to you. I should’ve called. I was scared you wouldn’t want to listen to me. I’m still afraid you don’t want to listen to me. I should’ve came around, I just. I thought I was-. I’m a schmuck. I was a real asshole and I’m so sorry. You looked like you had everything figured out. I didn’t think you’d want to deal with me. I tried calling one time and your mom answered, she told me to leave you alone. I mean, I couldn’t blame her, in fact I could even agree with her. I already put you through a lot. It felt wrong, but you seemed to be doing alright and I thought that maybe if I searched for you elsewhere I wouldn’t miss you as much. It didn’t work, I mean it helped, but it didn’t work.  I miss you so much. I want to make things right, I have got to make things right with you. You don’t have to stay around, I just need to know how you feel. I get it if you don’t want to see me again. I’ll leave right now if you want me too. I’ll pack up my sailor hat and I’ll-.” Steve started to speak quickly not even really thinking about the words coming out of his mouth. He just had so much to say and it was pointless for him to try and organize all of it. He wanted you to know every thought that ran through his mind.

“Steve.” You interrupted him and as he caught his breath you grabbed ahold of one of his hands. “I’m sorry too, so unbelievably sorry. I miss you too.” You smiled lightly and Steve let out a nervous sigh as his eyes traveled to your hands holding one of his.

“(Y/N)!” You heard Jessica yell from the diner. You whipped your head around.

“In a minute!” You yelled across the mall. You faced Steve and followed his eyes down to your hands. You quickly let go with an awkward chuckle. Steve let a small smile escape as he saw your cheeks go a rosy red and you playfully pushed him away.

“Truce?” He asked holding out his hand. You smirked and took it both of your hands gliding down each others wrist as your pinkies enter locked. You both had wicked smirks plastered on your faces as you both chuckled.

“You dork.” You said and Steve’s mouth hung open dramatically.

“I’m the dork? You did it too.” He laughed and you both just felt so at peace that it didn’t matter that your fingers were starting to intertwine.

“(Y/N)! Come clock out!” Jessica obnoxiously yelled from the opening of the diner.

“Look, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later.” You said as you began to head off towards the diner, your heart lighter than air.

“Movie night tonight, right?” He shouted.

“That’s up to Robin not me!” You shouted turning and walking backwards. “I don’t think she’s sold on you, yet!” You joked and turned back around and entered the diner.

Steve chuckled taking a bite of the other corn dog in his hand. Not sold on him, yet? How could she not be sold on him yet. As Steve swallowed his bite of corn dog he realized that Robin wasn’t going to be sold on him if he went back upstairs with a cold corn dog with a bite taken out of it.

[azdoine]

So let’s talk about them cherubs.

I think it’s no secret that Calliope and Caliborn have always been deeply gendered characters in Homestuck, but (beyond fanart and enthusiastic headcanons) I personally haven’t seen a lot of engagement with their characters on that level. The most comprehensive readings of Calliope and Caliborn that I’ve seen have always been through the lens of metatext (Calliope and Caliborn as fandom avatars) or religion (Calliope and Caliborn as Gnostic figures).

With that in mind, I want to talk about the ways in which Calliope and Caliborn are gendered in Homestuck, and offer my own amateur reading of Calliope as a trans allegory.

Full disclosure, I love the epilogues, but I won’t be engaging with them here -- I view them as extracanonical, which is to say, I’d like to talk about them and their own presentation of Calliope’s story in another post.

Also, it’s Homestuck, so, you know. Sex, death, violence, and bigotry under the cut:

If we’re to read Calliope as a trans allegory, then we don’t need to look very far for evidence, because the text is very straightforward in suggesting it.

Almost as soon as we meet Calliope in the flesh for the first time, we’re confronted with the bleak reality of her desire for a more feminine embodiment:

'Callie Ohpeee’ serves as an aspirational figure for Calliope on multiple levels. Most obviously, she’s a vehicle for Calliope’s self-insertion into the wider world of paradox space and the alpha timeline (i.e. her self-insertion into the story of Homestuck); Callie Ohpeee is able to freely and directly interact with the elements and characters of the story that Calliope adores, while Calliope cannot. Somewhat less obviously, Calliope’s trollsona also serves as a way for her to imagine herself in non-caliginous relationships (which she desires on some level, but she feels she has been denied by her biology).

However, Calliope’s trollsona isn’t just a vehicle for her relationships and engagement with other people. Calliope’s trollsona is also key to the way in which Calliope desires to relate to herself.

Calliope desires to be attractive and feminine for her own sake: she desires to be beautiful and pretty, and her trollsona serves as the vehicle by which she satisfies this desire.

Calliope’s trollsona is quite literally her idealized feminine self, and so her relaxing “solo cosplay” sessions bring nothing more to mind than a trans woman privately enjoying a feminine presentation in the closet, as many trans women have. Her costumery and face paint imply clothes and makeup, and Caliborn takes on the role of a patriarch or patriarchy that tries to control her.

Ultimately, though, Calliope’s embodiment desires are cosmically validated by the unfolding drama of paradox space. Calliope is tormented by the apparent fact that she isn’t and can’t be Callie Ohpeee, but nevertheless, she successfully inserts herself into the lives of the alpha kids and the unfolding of the alpha timeline, forms the kinds of relationships that she wants, and receives the regard that she wants. She dies and takes on the form of her trollsona in the dream bubbles, and even when she’s physically reborn as her cherub self, she’s still “Callie” to Roxy, a meaningful nickname that goes basically unspoken.

Pretty straightforward, right? A trans girl learns that she and her body aren’t unlovable, makes friends and forms bonds as her true self, and escapes the reach of the forces that once abused her.

FEARFUL SYMMETRY

Before we can close the door on a trans reading of Calliope, we also have to consider Calliope and Caliborn as a pair, and not least because the two of them literally share the same body. Fair warning, we’re only going to get more speculative (and more indulgent) going forward.

Calliope and Caliborn are presented, at least superficially, as absolute and dichotomous opposites. They are two spirits that cannot coexist at once within the same body; their respective attitudes and temperaments couldn’t be any more different, and they are, of course, Muse and Lord: quintessentially passive and quintessentially active.

However, Calliope and Caliborn aren’t so different as one might think. Despite Caliborn’s violent protestations to the contrary, they share key characterizing interests in the likes of shipping...

...and art:

Caliborn is infamous for his disgust and anger with the absurdity of paradox space (i.e. his anger with the text of Homestuck itself), but Calliope is easily provoked into displaying the exact same petulant frustration with the direction of the story and the unfolding of events around her.

Calliope and Caliborn are consistently unified within the text -- not as incompatible opposites, but as two sides of the same coin. In Complacency of the Learned, Calliope and Caliborn are personified in the singular, androgynous Calmasis. In his chess match with Calliope, Caliborn disguises his king as his queen, and vice versa, signifying a mutual transgression and inversion of gender; Caliborn steals Calliope’s hemotyping and typing quirk, just as alternate!Calliope does the same to him, in a mutual appropriation not just of quirk (i.e. voice and presentation), but of blood, or life. On the level of the body, Caliborn’s skin is inextricably marked by the green that signifies Calliope, and Calliope is inextricably marked by Caliborn’s skull: the deaths-head he would inflict upon all life (and a hyperrealization of the masculine or unfeminine bone structure that troubles many trans women).

Most significantly, Aranea indicates to us that Calliope and Caliborn actually began as one being, which then went on to fracture into a male and female aspect, striving with and against each other -- a creation myth for gender and sexuality itself, in the vein of Plato’s Symposium, Rabbinic lore on Adam and Eve, and (rather topically) Hedwig and the Angry Inch.

With their fundamental unity in mind, we can read Calliope and Caliborn not just as ‘brother and sister’, but rather as two identities, personas, or aspects of one person. This is why, for example, calling a cherub by one of their two names brings that personality to the surface -- because, on a literal or symbolic level, it constitutes the active validation of that personality and identity, and the abject denial of the other.

Does all of this suggest a bigender, genderfluid, or otherwise non-binary reading of Calliope and Caliborn? Maybe, but let’s keep going, first.

Aranea’s exposition tells us that even adult, mature, ‘binary’ cherubs are still figures of gender duality, inversion, and transgression. Mating cherubs take on the forms of dueling cosmic serpents -- the sex act occurs between two hyperreal phallic symbols, suggesting male homosexuality in specific and queerness more broadly. It was Calliope’s biological father who ultimately submitted to their biological mother, and thus it was Calliope’s biological father who laid their egg, while their biological mother was the one to fertilize it, revealing the separation of sexual anatomy and power relations from gender among cherubs.

The gender dualities, inversions, and transgressions at play can still exist within cherubs who are, by all accounts, decisively male or female in gender identity -- despite the lack of of any way to assign them a sex or gender from the outside. 

The dueling personalities within each young cherub are siblings to each other, but they are also different possible selves that the cosmically-transgender cherub might become as they grow to adulthood -- just as the dueling alternate selves of so many other characters can illuminate their own internal conflicts. In Homestuck, the inner life is always prone to manifest in the outer life, again and again.

I TRAGICALLY LOST A SISTER TO MURDER

Having established a reading of Calliope and Caliborn as two identities within one person -- as ‘Calmasis’ at odds with themself, containing multitudes and torn between them -- we can move on to look at the way Calliope and Caliborn relate to each other, and to gender, in order to get the bigger picture.

Caliborn introduces himself to us as undyingUmbrage, a username of largely straightforward meaning. His umbrage -- his anger, irritation, annoyance, or offense in the face of the world -- is neverending, everlasting, and eternal, and so too is his own life. Caliborn is immortal, allowing him to carry his rage forward forever.

If Caliborn’s username is simple, then Calliope’s is more sophisticated, which fits their characters. As uranianUmbra, her title invokes most obviously Uranus the planet and Urania the heavenly muse, but also the ‘uranian’, Karl Ulrichs’ antiquated title for gay men and trans women: those with an anima muliebris virili corpore inclusa, “a woman’s soul enclosed in a man’s body.” As the umbra, or darkest shadow, she invokes the Jungian shadow archetype, the suppressed, unconscious, or rejected aspect of the self.

As such, Calliope identifies and codes herself both as transfeminine and as Caliborn’s allegorical shadow archetype -- a part of himself that he can neither accept, acknowledge, or escape, perpetually haunting him. In-universe, Calliope names herself after Uranus’ topspin, and the ‘English’ of a cue-ball that it echoes -- thus, she implicitly identifies herself and the trans feminine uranian with the cue-ball that threatens Caliborn and Lord English. She symbolically establishes herself and the trans feminine as Caliborn’s only intrinsic vulnerabilities!

And on some level, Calliope tells us all of this! Because while Caliborn wants to destroy Calliope, she hopes to make him like her:

Calliope manifests a sincere investment in so many of the things that Caliborn orbits at a distance. Thus, to Caliborn, she represents a threat from within to his ability to maintain distance, because on some level, she serves as a manifestation of his own desire to draw closer. She confronts him with the reality of his own desire, or at least, with the latent possibility of his own sincere investment -- she serves to remind him that anyone who can waste as much time on creating Homosuck as he does is both an invested creative and sincerely invested in Homestuck on some level.

And it’s much the same on the level of gender, too. Calliope serves as a sincere reflection of the gender identity that Caliborn can only orbit at a distance. It was, after all, Caliborn’s idea to swap the king and queen chess pieces, and to disguise them as each other. Calliope lashes out at him because he cannot do so earnestly: because Caliborn makes a shitty twist out of his insincere production, because he can’t commit to swapping the places of the king and queen, and because he abuses Calliope’s willingness to swap the pieces (because he abuses and misdirects her inclination to gender transgression, and by extension, betrays the premises of his own idea).

This is why Caliborn kills Calliope’s dreamself instead of predominating over her in the conventional way -- not just because it’s easier and more convenient for him, but because his predomination would mean “consuming” her personality and “integrating” with it. It would constitute an integration with his shadow archetype, and thus, on some level, a partial destruction of the persona and ego he has established for himself. To Caliborn, as pathological as he has become, any level of integration with Calliope represents an existential threat, and so he has to cut her out of himself like a cancer.

But even having cut Calliope out of himself, Caliborn cannot escape her. By cutting her out of himself, he has defined himself around the hole she has left in him -- he has permanently divorced himself of the opportunity to integrate with her or accept what she represents. While both Caliborn and alt!Calliope take up each other’s typing quirks as a sign of victory, Caliborn takes Calliope’s quirk as a way by which he can signal his ‘wholeness’:

And this is, of course, complete bullshit and posturing of the highest order. Andrew Hussie not only directly characterizes the conflict between Caliborn and Calliope as an inner conflict within him, but he also tells him that his only path to maturity and personal growth was through integration with Calliope.

Not to be denied, Caliborn continues to constantly assert the self-justifying completion and authority of his masculinity, for himself and for others...

...but even so, he still can’t help but betray himself and his own idealized masculinity:

Masc4masc, Caliborn certainly isn’t! In his creative endeavors, he telegraphs his ultimate disgust for masculinity. He needs to draw out the femininity he wants to see in men -- he acts out gruesome, hateful misogyny against women, but even as he murders so many of the women of his manga or otherwise ejects them from his story, he’s still compelled to recreate femininity and symbolically recreate womanhood within the male cast he has left behind.

And he’s not just motivated by homophobia and a disgust for men who are intimate with other men! Nor is he just motivated by a desire to place these feminized characters below him. Just as Calliope does sincerely with her Callie Ohpeee trollsona, Caliborn is compelled to feminize his own self-insert, the crude rendition of Lord English he creates for his own satisfaction. Given free reign to depict himself and insert himself into his story however he likes, Caliborn opts to turn away from the full thrust of hypermasculinity, and he makes himself beautiful and gorgeous.

And as soon as he does so, Caliborn’s repressed attraction to Calliope erupts again:

This isn’t just the matter of blackrom incest that the text superficially suggests; even on a purely textual level, due to the alien nature of their relationship, Caliborn only barely regards Calliope as a sister, and he certainly has no problem with objectifying and sexualizing all of the other women he hates.

No, Caliborn has to repress his attraction to Calliope because, given their shared form, his attraction to her as a woman necessarily constitutes an implicit recognition that he could be attractive as a woman, and his body could be attractive as a woman’s body.

Caliborn can never accept that, and he’ll never directly address it or engage with it. He’ll never think about what all of this means for him, or act on his idle fantasies. The time for turning back is well behind him.

He is, now and forever, exactly the kind of angry and disaffected chud who will never unplug from 4chan or stop masturbating to awful trap hentai. He has deliberately imprisoned himself within the teleology of his own self-confirming hegemonic masculinity, and he thinks it is glorious.

THE DEMON IS ALREADY HERE

To fully understand Caliborn, of course, we need to understand Lord English.

If Caliborn has imprisoned himself within his own assertions, then Lord English is the embodiment of those assertions, and Caliborn’s transformation into Lord English is his ultimate apotheosis: having murdered his shadow and excised her spirit from within himself, his transformation enables him to excise her from without. His ascension allows him not only to purge Calliope’s visage from his body, closing off the possibilities once implied and allowed by his youthful and androgynous form, but also to recreate, reconfirm, and relive his victory over Calliope at every turn.

To understand what I mean by that, let’s look at the characters and components who go into Lord English, starting with Equius.

Equius, is, of course, a long-form joke character about the pathetic contradictions of hegemonic masculinity. In his pesterlogs, he opens every line with blatantly phallic imagery...

But when he actually tries to handle said phallus in real life, his titanic strength prevents him from doing anything but destroying it:

And the same goes for one of his horns, which he has apparently broken off. The autocastration symbolism is not subtle, and about the mildest thing we can conclude is that he’s a chronic, addicted masturbator who has compromised his own sexual performance.

He’s also textually obsessed with upholding the racial hegemony of the Alternian civilization...

...but his obsession with hierarchy and dominance quickly collapses into a thin pretext for his barely-suppressed desire to submit to those who are higher than him on the hemospectrum...

...and to those who are lower than him!

Equius is a character intrinsically lined to the collapse and self-destruction of masculinity and male sexuality, which is topical enough that we might end there. However -- and there’s no nice way for me to say this -- we also need to establish that Equius is a necrophile and a sexual predator, too.

@mmmmalo and others have written intriguingly and at length about reading “blue beauties” as a cipher for “sexualized corpses” in Homestuck, but for Equius, it’s about as textual as it gets. Equius is explicitly sexually and romantically interested in Aradia even after her death, and his necrophillic attraction is only reinforced by the symbolism: he constructs an unliving replacement body for her, which parses most obviously as a symbolic embalming and restoration of her corpse, and he treats it like a love doll even as it’s uninhabited and lifeless. He seeks to literally transform her body into a “blue beauty” by the transfusion of his own blood, which (given the color-coding of troll body fluids) parses as a clear insemination joke about his genetic material.

We might excuse his attraction for various fantastic mitigating factors -- Aradia is, after all, still ‘alive’ in a kind of undead state -- but Equius’ more general sexual predation cannot be so easily ignored. Aradia is chronically depressed and in absolute need of the service that Equius can provide, which he uses to take advantage of her and to compromise her bodily autonomy and judgement with the device he covertly implants inside of her.

Equius is undeniably a sexual predator who constructs women’s bodies in order to further his own domination, and his own motif of sexual self-destruction and inversion puts the final dark twist on his story. He is brutally dominated by Gamzee, suffocated to death until his corpse is blue in the face, and ultimately prototyped together with AR. He finds a unique fulfillment as he becomes the object of his own desire, when he is transformed into his own cybernetic “blue beauty”.

It’s not hard for me as a trans woman to see certain tropes at play, but for those of us who aren’t up to date on foundational transmisogynistic screeds...

Today the Frankenstein phenomenon is omnipresent not only in religious myth, but in its offspring, phallocratic technology. The insane desire for power, the madness of boundary violation, is the mark of necrophiliacs who sense the lack of soul/spirit/life-loving principle with themselves and therefore try to invade and kill off all spirit, substituting conglomerates of corpses. This necrophilic invasion/elimination takes a variety of forms. Transsexualism is an example of male surgical siring which invades the female world with substitutes... The projected manufacture by men of artificial wombs, of cyborgs which will be part flesh, part robot, of clones – all are manifestations of phallocratic boundary violation. So also the behaviorism of B.F. Skinner and “physical control of the mind” through the use of implanted electrodes by such scientists as Delgado, are variations of monstrous male “motherhood”.

-Gyn/Ecology

Blanchard believes that autogynephilia is best conceived as misdirected heterosexuality. These men are heterosexual, but due to an error in the development of normal heterosexual preference, the erotic target (a woman) gets located on the inside (the self) rather than the outside...

Autogynephiles are men who have created their image of attractive women in their own bodies, an image that coexists with their original, male selves. The female self is a man-made creation. They visit the female image when they want to have sex, and some became so attached to the female image that they want it to become their one, true self...

-The Man Who Would Be Queen

But hey, does anyone else remember that time when ARquius got upset and envious because he couldn’t lactate like a mother would?

EXTREMELY SUBTLE.

As for Equius’ fusion with the AR, or Auto-Responder, we come to Dirk Strider.

Dirk Strider is, if anything, the furthest thing imaginable from the autoerotic subject that Equius presents: he is not so much attracted to another self as he is utterly repulsed by himself in his own totality.

Dirk Strider is a self-loathing, self-destructive, self-mutilating gay man, caught in the grips of a kind of hateful narcissism. He is not overtly trans-coded, or related to the trans feminine, but his male homosexuality ties into another, subtler form of trans feminine horror, one which Jake suggests in aside:

Dirk Strider presents the horror of the destruction of the self and the destruction of manhood more generally, both in the service of the satisfaction of others and in the fulfillment of self-hatred. He creates and destroys himself with abandon. In Unite/Synchronize, it’s Dirk who willingly decapitates himself to cross the gulf of space and time between him and Jake, and he allows Dave to decapitate him and destroy his ‘unbreakable’ katana with Caledfwlch -- the uranian cue-ball sword that destroys masculinity -- in Collide.

And keep in mind that when Dirk decapitates himself, it’s Lil’ Hal who looks out from his severed head:

Holy castration symbolism, batman! Remember that Hal’s shades are a part of ARquius’ own phallic imagery:

Lil’ Hal is a phallic specter that terrorizes both Dirk and Jake on the individual level, as well as in their relationship with each other. He drives Dirk’s Brobot-self to greater aggression, he’s aggressive, condescending, and cruel with Jake in general, and he apparently manipulates events to force Jake to kiss Dirk’s severed head -- which, if we’re taking the castration metaphor seriously, basically means he forced Jake to give Dirk head. Classy.

Is it any wonder that Dirk is so compelled to lop Lil’ Hal off of himself and out of his life, no matter the ethics or implications for himself? Hal is the perfect storm and culmination of all of the worst things Dirk sees in himself, and the omniscient apotheosis of his own detatched, ultramasculine, hypercompetent, ironic persona -- all despite being treated as a 13-year-old by the text, an immature and incomplete version of Dirk.

Remind you of anyone else?

Dirk and Lil Hal are in this respect a brighter mirror of Calliope and Caliborn: they are a self divided for whom the better half has softly predominated.

Dirk probably hasn’t literally castrated himself to destroy his masculinity in the way that Caliborn has literally destroyed his own femininity; Dirk and Hal certainly aren’t so explicitly gendered or trans-coded as Calliope and Caliborn are, so it’s more difficult to read them and their relationship as trans-coded. (Unless you want to read Dirk and Hal that way, in which case, hell yeah, go forth and be valid, and link me your fanfiction, please.)

Nevertheless, Dirk’s symbolic castration and literal rejection of lil Hal represents, if nothing else, a rejection of and predomination over his most toxic aspect (and his most toxically masculine aspect), and the gruesome excision of such from his life.

But while Dirk has left his worst half behind, his worst half has gone on to supercede him: entering into union with Equius, and by extension, Caliborn.

And what of Gamzee, the most important character in the entire comic?

Well, Gamzee is, of course, another mirror to Calliope and Caliborn. Like Calliope and Caliborn -- our allegorical Calmasis -- Gamzee is caught in an erratic duality between two possibilties.

Just like our Calmasis, Gamzee vacillates almost all through life between two fundamentally different personas. At the time of his introduction, he was someone basically passive, agreeable, and kindly -- even lovable, to the point that he still has his fans and stans to this day.

Of course, as time went on, he became more and more aggressive. Even against the backdrop of his largely passive behavior, his increasing aggression culminated in his many infamously depraved and murderously violent outbursts: a transition not incidentally marked (among other things) by his rejection of the green (and Calliope-coded) sopor slime that once helped to pacify him, and his radicalization at the hands of his future self (in Lil’ Cal).

In his typing quirk, Gamzee likewise alternates between Calliope’s lowercase and Caliborn’s uppercase:

Definitely no themes of duality here, nope!

Most tellingly, even in his ascension to Lord English, Gamzee is also halved, just like Calliope & Caliborn: Gamzee is bisected such that only half of him enters Lil’ Cal, while half of him is left behind, utterly broken and irrelevant.

But if Gamzee is a reflection of Calliope and Caliborn, then what else does this piece of shit clown have to say about them?

Well, like Calliope, Gamzee is quite involved in his own constructed persona -- but unlike Calliope, he’s almost never regarded as anything but disgusting and pathetic.

No amount of face paint can cover the scars across his face, and instead of covering himself up, his costume only accentuates his own body, exposing himself in the most pornographically aggressive and perverse way possible.

Even in making himself into a clown he reaches towards something inherently absurd; something that has no existence in itself save for how comical and disgusting it is to others. His aspirations and imitations render him a walking joke and a figure of corrupt terror.

And most horribly and grotesquely, if Calliope and Caliborn are a trans allegory, and Gamzee is any kind of reflection of them, we know exactly what kind of warped and fictitious trans archetype Gamzee is:

Gamzee suggests himself as a serial killer, and he’s one who hordes corpses and steals trophies from his victims, at that.

But there’s one more person we need to look at in this gruesome sequence: Doc Scratch, another parallel to Calliope in this incestuous slurry of signifiers. In Doc Scratch, the man with the uranian cue-ball head, we see even Calliope’s most harmless, silly traits taken to their most nightmarish and oppressive conclusions.

It’s Doc Scratch who selectively warps troll culture in order to create the world and the culture that Calliope loved so, and who meddles in the alpha timeline as he so desires; it’s he who shows just how perverse and oppressive omniscience can be, transforming all her scrapbooks and her labors of love into his own exhaustive account of the cosmos, turning her love of her favorite characters into his own callous disregard for objects to be manipulated. When he uses her own thoughtful tone, it only telegraphs menace.

And, most darkly for our own analysis, Doc Scratch is a sexual predator and a pedophile.

Almost from the start, he’s undeniably sexualized as a threat in his conversations with Vriska:

Even his omniscience is sexualized by his own words, casting the light of his awareness as a phallic presence invading and penetrating the unknown:

Vriska is an unreliable narrator, of course, and we might not want to read too deeply into Doc Scratch’s words. Scratch is certainly quick to assure Rose that he’s not a predator in his conversations with her...

...but as always, the gulf between what Doc Scratch says and what he means is almost insurmountable. Doc Scratch tells Rose that he has no biological means of reproduction, but he is a conglomerate of and a vessel for multiple sexual beings, and even the castrated may experience sexual pleasure and pursue sexual ends.

Most tellingly, Doc Scratch only tells Rose that he isn’t attracted to her “in the way she means”. From an entity known for wordplay and lies of omission, this constitutes a tacit admission that he IS attracted to her in some way that she isn’t asking about.

Aradia explicitly characterizes his interference in her and Kanaya’s lives as ‘grooming’...

And he does much the same to Damara:

Doc Scratch is an undeniably sexual and sexualized threat.

We might ask how, exactly, he’s supposed to be attracted to Rose and the other young girls he victimizes -- and certainly I think he’s a sexual voyeur in the general case, but I think he’s also an even more abstract and pedophillic threat.

Doc Scratch is a copy of Lil’ Cal, given life and omniscience as a First Guardian; he is the child’s toy which was once fawned over by a puppet pornographer, and he is a child-sized man. He titles himself after the Scratch process which allows children the chance to grow up, but which also transforms adults into children; he presents the absolute perverse sentimentality of all adult transgressions into the realm of childish things.

This alludes to Caliborn, of course, as the boy who cannot escape his childhood, but it’s also sexologically linked to toxic trans feminine archetypes...

Blanchard (1991) started with the idea that some cases of male-to-female gender dysphoria and transsexualism are fundamentally motivated by an ETII, in which natal males who are otherwise sexually attracted to women eroticize the idea of being women to such an extent that they want to become a woman themselves. Freund and Blanchard (1993) later extended this idea to an analogous ETII that might motivate some pedophilic men to impersonate or fantasize about being children.

It is fitting that the most compelling finding of our study—that autopedophilic men sexually attracted to girls tend to find it sexually arousing to imagine themselves as a girl—reflects the likely confluence of the two ETIIs that had been proposed many years ago: one that involves locating an individual of a different gender within one’s own body, and the other that involves locating an individual of a different age within one’s own body.

...and it’s also a searing indictment of Calliope.

To cosmic entities such as her and Scratch, how can other people be anything but objects, tools, and characters to be abused? Before the power and knowledge they might come to command, how can other people be anything but insects?

To Scratch and Calliope, how can other people be anything but children?

Even as Calliope becomes a mere player within the story of paradox space,  Doc Scratch accuses her of a fundamental and unwholesome transgression. She lets go of the condescending oversight she used to hold over the alpha timeline, no matter how kindly and well-meaning she was, and she descends from the omniscient authority of her lonesome ivory tower, but Doc Scratch still names her as an offense to herself and to others. Her desire to be a person is cast as a perversion, a deviance, and a sickness.

SBURB is a game her kind was never meant to play, after all. It’s a coming-of-age narrative not meant for her.

Ultimately, Doc Scratch himself is a fundamental accusation against Calliope: he is a grail of the souls who signify some of the most horrible gendered narratives and trans feminine narratives we can imagine, animated in mockery of Calliope as if to say: “this is you”. Equius, an autoerotic, necrophillic predator, and Hal, an aggressive, intellectualist meddler; even Gamzee, who is both a murderous pervert and her own adoptive father, a normative role model who is anything but.

And when Caliborn rises to prominence and Lord English births himself from the corpse of Doc Scratch, it’s nothing less a recreation of the traditional predomination that Caliborn has denied himself. To Caliborn, Lord English is the sign of his own victory: he may see the souls within Lil’ Cal as like-minded role models to emulate and assimilate, or as hateful and loathesome symbols of Calliope to be crushed under his will, but his predomination allows him to take both options without interrogating himself, just as he’s gone without interrogating everything else he wants. 

And to Calliope, well, if Doc Scratch was an accusation against her, then what could be more horrible to her than Lord English? He has destroyed Doc Scratch and symbolically ended her own perversions, but only through the act of being born.

The only alternative to the horror of being Doc Scratch is the terror of being Lord English; the only alternative to the horror of being Calliope is the terror of being Caliborn.

ISOLATION

I could navel-gaze for hours about the potential symbolism of Lord English, but I think it’s time to return full circle to a somewhat more grounded look at Calliope.

If Calliope, Caliborn, and Lord English cast light upon each other, then what does alternate!Calliope have to say about them?

Having naturally predominated and standing as a singular figure in the furthest ring, Alt!Calliope serves to illuminate the alternatives to Caliborn’s false victory: in all the alternate possibilities illuminated by the dream bubbles, we see that Calliope can naturally predominate over Caliborn, but not vice versa.

Alternate!Calliope strongly suggests to us that Calliope is inherently stronger than Caliborn, and she tells us that Calliope and Caliborn share the same strength: she tells us yet again that Calliope and Caliborn are two sides of the same coin.

She suggests to us that, in a sense, Calliope and Caliborn are just Calliope -- that Calmasis, upon achieving integration, will simply view herself as Calliope, and Caliborn will lose because he was never the true self.

So why, then, does Caliborn win in the alpha timeline? Is it just an arbitrary time loop, a timeline plucked from the frothing sea of paradox space and arbitrarily validated by the happenstance of the immature Caliborn’s power over time?

No, I certainly don’t think so; I’d like to think that the principle of AURYN applies even here. Caliborn wins out over Calliope because they’re Doing As They Will -- because, even on the level of our trans allegory, they both have reason to want Caliborn’s victory. Even on the level of our trans allegory, Calmasis needs to be Caliborn.

Alternate!Calliope tells us that she had to become strong because she had no-one else to comfort her, and I think suggests two important points of interest:

Firstly, that alt!Calliope serves to reflect Calliope’s inner drama, just as Calliope serves to reflect Caliborn’s inner drama. Caliborn fears and loathes the possibility of being like Calliope, the sentimental degenerate and weakling that she is, and Calliope fears and dreads the possibility of becoming alt!Calliope. Calliope fears that even if she rejects the hateful accusations that are Doc Scratch, and rejects the teleological future of Lord English, her only alternative is to be like alt!Calliope: someone who has won, and who has become herself, but at the cost of isolation, distance, and loneliness, without humanity, connection, or kindness.

In other words, Calliope fears her victory would mean her little green skull is always going to be a miserable Federal Fucking Issue, for herself and for others.

Secondly, that Calliope’s relationships with humans are in some sense the vector by which Caliborn came to dominate. Alt!Calliope won because she had no-one to take comfort in, and thus she had to be strong on her own, but I think the flip side of that is that alt!Calliope was able to be strong, because she had no relationships that could weaken her -- she was more insulated from the toxic ideas of the cultures that came before her. No one could so much as accidentally insinuate to her that she wasn’t good enough or pretty enough as she was, save perhaps for Caliborn -- and certainly Caliborn would have been malevolent, but he would have had less in the way of the language and systematic ideas to be the hateful and cultivated misogynist that he became in the alpha timeline.

In other words, alt!Calliope doesn’t have any reason whatsoever to worry about her little green skull in the first place.

But there’s another much more straightforward reason why Caliborn had to win, too:

If we’re supposed to take Calliope and Calliborn as two facets of a whole more generally, let alone as a specific trans allegory, well... they may have been two personas, or even two people, but they are confined to an existence as a single player. The cherub session likely never could been anything but a single player session; the cherub session was always going to be a dead session.

And whether it’s a fundamental fact of SBURB or just an idea in Calliope’s head -- one of the ideas she’s likely constructed with the human cultural biases she’s obtained by osmosis -- Caliborn is someone who can win a dead session, and Calliope isn’t. How could a Space player, a patient creative, succeed in a test of frantic, timed destruction? How could a passive Muse succeed where even an active Lord would struggle -- how could a woman succeed where even a man would struggle?

Only someone like Caliborn could ever possibly win. Perhaps Calliope reflects Caliborn as the person he desperately wishes he wasn’t, and she is the shadow that lies outside of his hateful and constructed self, but as a precarious supergiant hangs overhead and the light of Skaia gutters out, Caliborn reflects Calliope as the person she desperately needs to be, and he is the self she has to construct for herself.

Caliborn kills Calliope’s dreamself not just because he desperately hates her, but also because she has to allow him to supercede her, and he is the kind of person she needs to be: because SBURB is unfair, Skaia is unfair, and he can escape the desolate waste of her life, while she cannot.

And so it happens that Calliope is exiled from the real and cast to the unreality of the dream bubbles, while Caliborn grows monstrously beyond himself, self-mutilated and cancerous.

People have commented on the obvious romantic symbolism at play in Calliope’s return to life in the real...

...but it’s not just the power of a love that saves Calliope. Love is powerful and transformative, but love alone isn’t magical. It isn’t even the power of a magical macguffin ring that saves Calliope, either, because a ring is never just a ring, even when it is magical.

What redeems the possibility of Calliope’s existence is recognition and freedom.

TL;DR: ‘Caliborn’ is Calliope’s deadname.

[ginnyweatherby]

Anything Your Heart Desires Will Come to You

This story is somewhat of a sequel to this one I wrote awhile ago, but it can stand on it’s own.  I just wanted to write about Charlotte going to Disney World, since she wasn’t able to go on Lefou and Stanley’s last trip with her brother and sister... This time Gaston tags along too!

I struggled with this story more than anything I’ve ever written, but after days weeks months of fighting with it, and I even seriously considered scrapping it a few times, I think I can finally say it is finished.  100% family fluff because that is my jam and I hope it is yours as well.

Being born in the middle of first semester meant Charlotte’s birthdays often went by without much of a fuss.  Quiet dinners, a small (or as small as a family such as hers could accomplish) party if it fell over a weekend.

But last November, Charlotte Mae Durand-Lefou had turned twenty-one years old.

No one wanted to admit it out loud, but not many people thought she would make it this far.  Between her endless hospital stays, and more surgeries than anyone her age should have to endure, twenty-one seemed like an even bigger milestone than it was to everyone else.

Still.  She had college degree to obtain.  So, once again, her birthday went by with a nice dinner (featuring her first - doctor-approved - adult beverage) with both sides of her family, complete with Michelle singing an endless chorus of “Happy Birthday”, while Barney tipped off the waitresses to join her.

Now, it was early May, the weather was warm and Charlotte didn’t have a care in the world.  She’d completed the school year with good grades, didn’t have to think about exams or reports for a few months, and still had two weeks of freedom before her summer internship began.

In honor of her twenty-first half birthday, her father agreed to take her and the family on any trip she wanted… within reason.  Michelle was still only six, after all.

Despite her love for princess movies and countless Mickey Mouse t-shirts, Charlotte had never been to Disney World.

Which is why today Charlotte was checking her reflection one final time as she placed her Minnie Mouse headband over her unruly hair.  She may have accomplished reaching adulthood, but that didn’t mean she couldn't spend a week with her family (and her favorite Uncle Gaston) embracing her inner child.

Michelle was running up and down the halls of their hotel, her Little Mermaid backpack bouncing on her shoulders as her family dragged the bulk of their luggage into their rooms.  At six years old, she didn’t fully understand the responsibility of “carry your own bag, Michelle!” Lefou shook his head as he watched his daughter practically float in excitement before swiping the room key to his and Stanley’s room.  “Michelle, honey, over here.” Michelle skipped back to the rest of her family and leaped past them to bounce on the bed. “Papa, this bed is huge!” “That’s because they knew there’d be a little girl trying to destroy it,”  Lefou teased, finally releasing his grip on his suitcase, Michelle’s suitcase, and his backpack.  He let out a sigh of relief as the weight was lifted from his aching body.  It had been a long day of travel and he couldn’t wait to put his feet up and rel- “WHEN ARE WE GONNA GO TO DISNEY WORLD, PAPA?” Lefou let out a breath.  He should have known better. “We just got here, Michelle,”  Stanley appeared behind them, relieving himself of his own luggage.  “Take a breather.” “I wanna see Ariel,”  Michelle whined.  The mere thought of visiting a theme park after spending so long in transit exhausted Lefou.  He didn’t know where children got their energy, but he envied their apparent never-ending supply.  He had to get his in the form of caffeine... he thought he saw a coffee shop downstairs... “We will, just relax,”  Stanley laughed, pushing open the door to the adjoining room, where Charlotte and Michelle would be staying.  Barney had managed to convince Gaston to allow him to stay in his room across the hall to not have to share with his sisters. Michelle – who was usually found attached to Charlotte’s hip whenever the latter was around – caught sight of her sister unpacking some of her things and jumped off her parents’ bed with an impressive thud on the carpet to run through the doorway. “Is this my bed, Charlotte?”  Michelle asked, and Lefou saw her climb onto one of the beds, before hopping across to the other.  The girl had boundless energy and it wore him out just to watch her sometimes. “Pick whichever you want,”  Charlotte said. Michelle flopped onto her back on the bed closest to the window, seeming to test out the mattress.  “I think I want this one...” “Alright then I’ll take the other o-”  Charlotte turned around to see Michelle, flat on her back, arms sprawled on either side of her, eyes shut and sleeping soundly. “How did she fall asleep so fast?”  Charlotte peered through the doorway to look at Lefou in disbelief. Lefou shrugged, as he heard Stanley chuckle behind him.  “She’s like a battery... she just keeps going and going...” “Until she stops.”

Lefou was simultaneously juggling a handful of tickets (as no one else could be trusted with such responsibility) and doing a head count as he led his small parade of family members through the front gate of the theme park. Stanley stood next to him, his nose deep in a map.  He had spent most of their last trip in a similar position, and soon enough he would probably be pulling a bottle of sunscreen from his backpack insisting everyone lather up. Gaston had Michelle balanced on his shoulders to keep her from running off in her excitement; Barney was hovering behind them from a distance, pretending that fifteen was far too old to be on a Disney vacation with his family.  Lefou knew he’d warm up to the idea soon enough. … and then there was Charlotte. She may have been legally an adult – as difficult as her father found it to believe – but she was looking around the park with a look of awe and wonder usually reserved for small children seeing snow or fireworks for the first time. Lefou stayed away from theme parks during her childhood.  He didn’t want to disappoint her when she discovered most of the rides were forbidden for those with heart conditions such as hers, but this was her choice... and he soon realized he may have made a mistake keeping her from it.  There were still plenty of things she could enjoy this week. “It’s even more amazing in person,”  She muttered under her breath as she looked to Cinderella’s castle.

Lefou smiled as he watched his daughter take everything in.  If he was honest, he never got tired of seeing the castle, himself. “It’s pretty great, isn’t it?”  Stanley asked, as he finally tore his eyes away from the map to follow her gaze. “It’s unbelievable,”  Charlotte said, with a small nod of her head.

Normally, Lefou would have taken a photo of such a precious sight, such a beautiful expression on her face… but not only were his hands too full to root through his pockets to find his phone, but he soon realized part of the magic that Disney so often promised was being present in the moment.

To his parents, a trip to Disney meant a week with the family, a few dorky kiddie rides, matching family outfits… Their choice today was a Finding Nemo theme, with Lefou and Charlotte sporting orange and white to be Marlin and Nemo, respectively, Stanley wore blue to be Dory, Michelle was wearing a pink dress and cheering “aww, you guys made me ink!” every few minutes, even Gaston had been talked into wearing green and brown to be Crush, and finally, Barney wore a yellow shirt that Charlotte had insisted on emblazoning “I’M OBNOXIOUS” across the front in permanent marker.

Stanley said it was a rather fitting quote.

… but to Barney, a trip to Disney meant more than matching costumes.  It meant thrill rides (the Haunted Mansion was his favorite) and most importantly, the snacks.  There was something about food in the shape of cartoon mice that just tasted better.

They’d hardly walked through the front entrance before he was begging Stanley for a few dollars to buy popcorn.  His dad was something of a pushover when it came to the kids, and easily relented.  Now, while they were headed towards the Finding Nemo show that Michelle insisted on seeing, Barney spotted a Mickey pretzel cart and he wanted nothing more than to partake in one.

He rummaged through his pockets for the spare change he’d accumulated from all his earlier snacking, and managed to come up with enough for two pretzels.  He figured he would treat his Papa since he was the only one willing to wait behind as the others charged ahead toward the theater.

“If you keep eating like this, you might actually have to start buying shirts in a size medium,”  Lefou teased, poking Barney’s skinny arm, before taking one of the pretzels from him.

Barney rolled his eyes, as he bit into an ear.  “I’m a growing man, Papa.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,”  Lefou said.  “I still see that tiny little thing hardly more than six pounds in the nursery when I see you.”

“Papa.”

“A little taller now, I'll give you that.”

Barney opened his mouth to reply when they reached the theater.  “Ooh, can we get some popcorn?  It's not a show without popcorn!”

“Bartholomew, you still have a massive pretzel in your hand.”

“What if I promise to share with Michelle?”

Lefou sighed, before handing Barney his wallet.

Charlotte and Michelle were on a mission. They were determined that over the course of their visit, they would meet every princess they possibly could.  Michelle met Ariel on their last trip, and in the two years since, had spoken of little else. Barney had dragged Gaston to ride one of the bigger rides that his sisters couldn’t, so they began their quest, with Lefou and Stanley hovering behind, making sure Michelle stayed within eyesight… They trusted Charlotte, but Michelle could be a handful. “Keep an eye out, Michelle,”  Charlotte was holding the younger girl’s hand.  “Poofy dresses and dainty voices are a dead giveaway for princesses.” “What does ‘dainty’ mean?”  Michelle asked, taking her role of "lookout” very seriously. “Watch ‘Snow White,”  Charlotte said.  “You’ll understand.” Only a moment later, Michelle’s voice rang out in the busy crowd,  “IT’S AURORA!” “We found one!”  Charlotte said, laughing at Michelle’s enthusiasm. There wasn’t much of a line to see their princess, and in no time Michelle was falling into the arms of Aurora. “Oh, my, hello there, Princess!”  Aurora greeted with a chuckle, trying not to topple over from the force of Michelle’s hug.  “How are you today?” “I’m good,”  Michelle said, politely, as she pulled away.  “Charlotte and me are gonna meet all of the princesses today!” Aurora flashed her a smile.  “Is that so?” “Yep!  You’re our first stop.” “Well, I’m honored,”  Aurora said, looking past Michelle’s head to her family.  “Then this must be Charlotte?” “It is!”  Michelle said, excitedly, as Charlotte walked up to the princess and gave her a hug of her own.  Lefou managed to snap a picture of the sweet exchange, pleased to see both of his daughters involved in the magic together. “Are you friends with Ariel?”  Michelle asked. “You know what?”  Aurora said,  “I am.  I think I saw her swimming around somewhere today.  I bet you could still catch her if you look really hard.” Michelle’s excitement was contagious as she squealed at the thought of meeting Ariel again.  She liked Sleeping Beauty well enough, but nothing would ever hold a candle to The Little Mermaid in her mind. “What about you, Princess?”  Aurora turned to Charlotte, who turned slightly pink at the nickname.  “Do you have anyone you would like to meet?” “Oh, I’m just happy to meet you,”  Charlotte said, honestly.  Lefou knew that Mulan was her favorite princess movie, but she was a fan of them all. “I’m flattered,”  Aurora said, putting a hand to her chest.  “You’re both so sweet.  I can’t wait to tell Phillip about you two!  Now tell me, is there a prince in your life?” She glanced over Charlotte’s shoulder to see Lefou and Stanley.  “... or perhaps a princess?” If Charlotte was pink before, she was magenta now.  “There might be... uh, a prince, that is.” Stanley, who’d just taken a swig from his water bottle began to cough.  “... Excuse me?” Aurora giggled a delicate laugh behind her hand as Lefou pounded his husband on the back while he spluttered to get him to breathe properly again. “Did you know that?”  Stanley hissed into Lefou’s ear as the girls continued to talk to Aurora. “Not exactly,”  Lefou admitted.  “But she’s twenty-one, so I can’t say I’m surprised.” “She’s too young.”  Stanley insisted.  He didn’t even know Charlotte until she was twelve, but he had fully accepted her as his daughter to the point where he was apparently scandalized by the thought of her having a boyfriend.  Lefou decided not to tell him of all the times Charlotte had mentioned her dates in the past. “She’s an adult,”  Lefou corrected.  “By the time I was her age... she was already born.” “That isn’t exactly easing my state of mind,”  Stanley grumbled as they watched the girls give Aurora one last hug before waving goodbye. “Sorry, Dad,”  Charlotte said, as they began to walk away.  “I didn’t mean to give you a heart attack back there.” Lefou snorted.  “He’ll get over it if we buy him a churro.”

“Did someone say ‘churro?”  A familiar voice asked from behind them.  They turned around to see Barney, now sporting a smile and Gaston who looked a little green in the face. “Those rides were a lot more fun before I turned forty,”  Gaston muttered, steadying himself on the handle of the wheelchair Charlotte used if she tired from walking too much. “You aren't suggesting we're getting old, are you?”  Lefou asked, steering them in the direction of the churro line.  Between this, the Mickey-shaped ice cream Barney insisted on, and the bucket of popcorn Stanley had refilled three times already, he was sure he was gaining a few extra pounds this week. “Never,”  Gaston said, before turning to Charlotte.  “Well, bud, what’s next?”

“Michelle and I are still on the hunt for more princesses,”  Charlotte said, as Stanley handed her a churro.  “Maybe there’s one out here for you, Uncle Gaston.” “If he hasn’t found one yet, I think it may be a lost cause,”  Barney snorted. “Oh, really?”  Charlotte said with a smirk.  “... maybe for you, then?” Barney’s freckles appeared even more prominent on his face as he blushed… or maybe that was just the sunburn. “There’s Tiana, Daddy!”  Michelle said, pulling on Stanley’s hand and pointing across the way. “You’re right,”  Stanley agreed.  “Barney, maybe this is your shot!”

Barney grumbled under his breath, his pale face now just as red as his hair.

Lefou couldn't help but laugh at his son’s disgruntled face.  He wrapped an arm around Barney’s shoulder as they watched Michelle give Tiana one of her signature bear hugs.

“Oh, Bartholomew,”  He sighed, as Tiana complimented Michelle on her dress, before greeting Charlotte.  “I must say, you could do worse than a princess.”

Barney shrugged his father’s arm off his shoulder, but Lefou could see the smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Charlotte?”  Tiana gasped, once Charlotte had introduced herself.  “Why, that’s my best friend’s name!  Are you sure that's not you, Lottie?”

Charlotte laughed, as she shook her head.  “I’m not interested in kissing any frogs, I’m afraid.”

“Well, that's a relief,”  Stanley muttered from beside Lefou.  “At least she's not kissing him.”

“Maybe he's already turned into a prince,”  Lefou teased, reaching over to squeeze his husband’s hand.

“Lefou!”

Tiana offered to take a picture with the group, and while Lefou was usually behind the camera, Gaston offered to hold it to make a family photo of it.

“Say… uh, ‘frog’, I guess?”  Gaston said, as the family crowded around the princess and flashed their smiles.

“Uh, frog, I guess!”

Gaston only groaned as he snapped the picture.

As they walked away, Charlotte leaned into Barney’s side.  “So, what did you think of her?  I bet I could get you her number.  My name is Charlotte, after all.  I have connections.”

Barney retorted with something Lefou was glad Michelle didn’t overhear.

Late afternoon was setting in and Michelle was getting cranky.

To counter her mood, Charlotte plopped her in the wheelchair and was pushing her towards the “It’s a Small World” ride for the third time that day.  Charlotte was able to ride that one, and even though Lefou would have rather done anything but listen to that song for another fifteen minutes, he would never refuse her. “And here we thought she outgrew strollers,”  Stanley commented as Michelle giggled when Charlotte hit a bump. “It can be fun to be pushed around,”  Charlotte admitted, as they approached the line.  Charlotte didn’t often use her chair, and it was mostly used to carry their bags, but Lefou could tell she was getting a little winded and may need to trade with her sister soon. “Do you want to sit down?”  Lefou asked. Charlotte sighed, seeming to admit defeat.  As much as she didn’t like to use it, insisting she was well enough to go without, it had been a long day, and they would be in this line for awhile. “Michelle, sweetie, can you stand up?”  Stanley asked, reaching down to lift her out. “No, no, she’s fine,”  Charlotte scooped her sister out of the chair, before falling into it, Michelle settled on her lap.  The younger girl looked close to a nap. “Are you sure she’s okay there?”  Stanley asked.  “She gets heavy after awhile.” “She’s alright,”  Charlotte said, letting out a breath.  Lefou took over pushing the wheelchair as the line moved forward. “Do we really have to go on this one again?”  Barney asked.  “I think I’ll have this song stuck in my head for the rest of the day.” “The week,”  Gaston corrected. “The month.” “The year.” “My life.” “I like the song,”  Michelle chimed in, sleepily. “Do you now?”  Stanley asked, throwing a mischievous glance in Barney and Gaston’s direction.  “... Can you remind me how it goes again?” Michelle perked up a bit as she began a chorus of “it’s a small world after all...” “Dad,”  Barney whined as Gaston let out a groan. “Just trying to keep a kid entertained for the next half an hour,”  Stanley said, a little too innocently. “... it’s a small world after all!”

Their day ended a little earlier than they’d anticipated.  Lefou always loved to watch the fireworks show at Disney, but they had another few days for that.  Michelle had fallen into a heavy sleep, trapping Charlotte (who was also getting a little worn out) in her chair, and Barney’s combination of roller coasters and absurd amount junk food made him sick, putting him in a sour mood for the rest of the day.  The sun hadn’t even begun to set yet, but they decided to call it a day and head back to the hotel. “I’d say that was a pretty successful first day,”  Stanley said.  He was sprawled out on the bed in their hotel room, scrolling through the pictures he’d taken on his phone that day.  Michelle was curled up next to him, her pigtails in disarray, bangs plastered to her forehead.  She had sticky ice cream residue on her dress, and Lefou saw a hint of sunburn on her cheeks. She was cuter than ever. Charlotte was resting in the room next door, while Gaston and Barney went downstairs to check out the hotel pool.  Lefou couldn’t imagine swimming after a day like today, but he’d never been nearly as athletic as they were.  He’d swim later. He fell onto the bed, taking care not to wake his daughter, before flipping on the TV. “Successful indeed,”  Lefou agreed, flipping through the channels.  “We wore Michelle out, at the very least.” “She’s not the only one,”  Stanley said, hiding a yawn behind his hand. Lefou checked his watch.  “There’s still an hour and a half before the dinner reservation.” With that, Stanley scooted down on the bed, fluffing the pillow a bit before closing his eyes. Unsatisfied with the choices on TV, Lefou shrugged and laid down on his own pillow, and in no time they were both asleep, Michelle snuggled up between them.

The next day was somehow even muggier than the previous afternoon, and it was still early.

Lefou was already drenched in a layer of sweat, and could feel himself growing more irritable by the minute.  He didn't want to spend his vacation in such a foul mood, but if they didn't find air conditioning quickly, he might just melt into a puddle like that talking snowman in Frozen.

Stanley took the girls off to meet a few more characters, while Lefou and Gaston took Barney to ride the Haunted Mansion for what was sure to be the first of many times.   Since it was his favorite ride in the park, they always made a point of hitting it at least once, and the line had been too long the day before.

Barney walked ahead of the adults, impatient to reach the line as soon as possible.  Lefou and Gaston trailed behind, talking among themselves.

“He acts so high and mighty sometimes,”  Lefou chuckled, as he watched Barney try and keep from racing too far ahead,  “but look how sweet he is when he cuts the act.”

“Don’t you remember being a fifteen year old boy?”  Gaston asked.  “Between puberty, parties and wooing girls, you’re lucky he wants to spend a week with his old man at all.”

Lefou let out a dry laugh.  “Our teen years were vastly different, my friend… and as much as I appreciate you, I hope my son doesn't go quite as crazy as you did.”

“I have to agree with you there,”  Gaston said, honestly.

“Come on, you guys!”  Barney called back to them.  “We’re almost there!”

They were now at the entrance, and Lefou watched as Barney allowed a mother and her young child to cut in front of him before they entered the line.

“That was awfully nice of you,”  Lefou commented.

Barney shrugged.  “She was really little.  I guess I could wait a little longer.”

No, Lefou didn't have anything to worry about.

“Okay, who’s thirsty?”  Lefou and Charlotte were balancing handfuls of souvenir mugs in their hands, before carefully placing one in front of each family member.

“Do I want to know what you spent on the specialty drinks, love?”  Stanley asked, taking a sip.

“Probably not,”  Lefou admitted, falling into the seat next to his husband.  He pulled his own cup close to his face, inspecting it.  It was brown, with a rustic feel to it, but he couldn't identify the characters on the side.  A handsome, rather muscular fellow in a red coat, and a squat little man with a large, pink nose.

“I don’t know who they are, but this guy is ugly,”  Barney said, pointing at the smaller character on the side of his mug.

“Just think,”  Stanley said, rolling his eyes.  “Since Papa undoubtedly spent a fortune on these, we get to keep them forever.”

“I hope they stay in the back of the cupboard.”

“Actually, Papa,”  Charlotte said.  “I'm not sure why, but this guy has always reminded me a bit of you…”

“Should I be offended?”  Lefou asked, taking a sip.  Maybe it was a little expensive for a glorified cup of apple juice…

“I don't think so,”  Charlotte said.  “The other guy reminds me of Uncle Gaston.”

Gaston looked pleased at this fact.

“Do you know what movie he’s from, Char?”  Barney asked.  “I’ve seen his picture around, but I can't figure out who it is.”

“You mean you’ve never seen-”

Before Charlotte could finish her answer, Michelle let out a shriek, her pricey apple juice now spilled all over her dress.

Stanley sighed, before reaching into his backpack for his pack of trusty wet wipes.

Even though she wasn't his daughter, Charlotte had been a big part of Gaston’s life ever since she was born.  He had spent many of his college days at Lefou’s apartment, holding that tiny little girl against his shoulder, wondering how he ever got to the point where his friends were having babies, and wondering if someday he’d have one or seven of his own to coddle.

Now his favorite Little Buddy wasn't so little anymore.  Twenty-one years older, and was tall and smart and everything Gaston had hoped she would turn into, plus some.

He watched Charlotte fall into her wheelchair, pulling Michelle into her lap as Barney pushed them around.  He loved each of his little “nieces and nephew”.

“Disney magic making you emotional?”  Lefou asked, handing Gaston a bottle of water.  “You look lost in thought… which is strange for you.”

Gaston chuckled.  “A dangerous pastime indeed.  No, I was just thinking about-”

Before he could finish his answer, Charlotte let out a gasp and then a snort.

“Oh, I am so getting a picture with him,”  She said, pushing herself out of her chair, and taking Michelle’s hand.

She led their group a little farther down until they met her destination.  Gaston never saw the thrill in meeting the characters at Disney World.  They were just people in costumes, what was so exciting?

Upon closer inspection, he noticed this must be the man who was on their drinks earlier that afternoon.

A large man with padded muscles and a long black ponytail gave a charming smile as they approached.

“Well, hello there,”  He greeted.  “What brings you here to see me today?”

Charlotte was the only one who was familiar with this character, so the rest of the family hovered behind as she spoke to him.

“I just had to meet everyone's favorite guy,”  Charlotte said, her smile growing wide.  “Rumor has it there's no man in town half as manly.”

Even though Gaston didn’t know who he was, Charlotte was obviously smitten.

“Perfect, a pure paragon.”  The man said with a wink.

“Now, who do you have with you today?”  The man took in the crowd of people behind Charlotte.

“My dad, my other dad, my brother, Barney, my sister, Michelle, and my…,”  Charlotte snorted again before continuing, “Uncle Gaston.”

The man’s eyes darkened as he looked Gaston up and down.

“Uncle Gaston, you say?”  He crossed his arms as Gaston took a step closer.

“That's what they call me,”  Gaston said, furrowing his brow.  Just because he didn't know who this guy was, didn’t mean he was about to feel threatened by a children's character.

The man took another step closer.  “You look like a strong guy, Monsieur.”

Gaston flexed his muscles (he could practically feel Lefou rolling his eyes behind him), and a smirk of his own crept over his features.

“Not nearly as much as me, of course.”

Gaston felt his face fall.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The other man flexed his arm, that annoyingly handsome smirk still tugging on the corner of his mouth.  “I just mean I'm the strongest guy here.”

“Sounds like a challenge, doesn't it, Gaston?”  Stanley taunted from behind them.

Gaston turned back to see him and Barney trying not to laugh at the interaction with this mystery character.

“A challenge?”  The man let out a hoot of laughter.  “This guy would hardly be a challenge… but I'm always ready for some healthy competition.  How are you at push-ups?”

Gaston threw his head to either side, resulting in a series of crackling noises, before falling on all fours.  “Oh, you're on!”

It was late, and Charlotte was sitting on Lefou and Stanley’s bed, snuggled up to her father’s side with the TV turned low, the light casting shadows across their faces in the dark room.

Stanley was asleep in the chair near the window, Barney passed out on the floor, and Michelle curled up like a cat at the foot of the bed.  Their day had ended after watching the parade, Gaston heading to bed as soon as they arrived back at the hotel - still a little huffy about losing his little competition against the buff character.

Charlotte and Lefou were the only ones still awake to finish their movie, despite their own exhaustion.  Charlotte yawned as she laid her head against Lefou’s shoulder.  Michelle may have watched this movie hundreds of times due to her love for all things underwater, but Finding Nemo was really Charlotte’s movie with her papa.

When she was younger, she didn't understand why her father cried so much when watching a movie about animated fish in a dentist’s office, but as she got older, she began to realize.

It couldn't have been easy on him (or her mother, of course) when Charlotte was born.  He became a single dad so quickly, only for his child to come out with some serious health issues.  Charlotte absentmindedly ran her fingers over the large scar across her chest.  It had been a source of insecurity for a long time, but she’d learned to embrace it, and it didn't bother her anymore.  She didn’t even mind when Michelle asked questions if she wore a lower neckline.

She watched as Nemo swam with his lucky fin and she knew this is why her father loved the movie so much.  It was just her and her papa against the world for so long, much like Marlin and Nemo… and like Nemo, she could have gotten lost.

Lefou stroked her hair - a mess after spending a long day out in the humidity - gently as they continued to watch.  It was nearly over now.

Michelle rolled over, jostling the bed a bit.

It wasn’t only her and her father anymore.  Now she had a full life with a big, loving family.

Barney let out a snort in his sleep, as Nemo and Marlin were reunited again.

Charlotte nestled even closer under Lefou’s arm and closed her eyes as the credits began to roll.  She thought she heard him sniffle, but chose not to bring attention to it for once.

Despite the dozens of times she had seen the movie, for the first time, she felt herself get a little choked up as well.

It could have been so much worse.  She could have been lost.

Thankfully - like Marlin - she knew her papa would always be there to find her.

Another reason Gaston tagged along for the trip, was because Stanley and Lefou’s wedding anniversary happened to fall in the middle of their vacation.  They didn't make extravagant plans for the occasion, but they did want a little alone time to celebrate their nine years of marriage together.

Stanley pressed a kiss against his husband’s sleeping forehead to rouse him.  It was early, but Stanley always struggled to sleep in past six, even on vacation.  He was already showered, and his breath tasted of mint toothpaste.

“Morning, love!”  Stanley greeted, cheerily.

His husband - who much less of a morning person - mumbled something, his face smashed into the pillow.

“Happy anniversary,”  Stanley tried again, poking Lefou’s cheek, his coarse facial hair scratching at his hand.  “Can you believe it?”

Lefou rolled over, his face no longer in the pillow, but it was now marked with pink wrinkle indents.  “Believe what?”

Stanley situated himself against the headboard as Lefou groped the nightstand for his glasses.  “Nine years, Lefou… that’s a long time.”

“You're making us sound old,”  Lefou teased.

Stanley chuckled, pressing another kiss into Lefou’s hair.  “Do you think Gaston will be able to handle the kids today?”

“He said he’ll take them to Disney Springs,”  Lefou said, snuggling up to Stanley's side.  “I’m sure they'll be too busy looking at souvenirs to act up.”

“That will keep them busy for awhile, then,”  Stanley said.  “Which is good because I have plans for us this evening.”

“Is that so?”  Lefou asked, a smirk crossing his face.

Stanley nodded, a grin of his own spreading across his lips.  “I’m taking my man out for a nice, perhaps overpriced dinner, have a drink or two, and then we can, um, come back here for awhile.”

Lefou snorted, and opened his mouth to make what was sure to be a witty retort, when they heard a (rather violent) knock originate from the door between their bedroom and the girls’ room.

“Sounds like Michelle is awake,”  Lefou chuckled, as Stanley untangled himself from his spouse to unlock the door.

He cracked it open to reveal their youngest daughter, waving a folded piece of purple construction paper in the air.

“Happy anniversary, Daddy!”

“Good morning… Let’s see what you have there,”  Stanley plucked the card from her hand, and brought it over to the bed for Lefou to see, Michelle close on his heels.

Lefou took the card and read it aloud, squinting as he tried to decipher the spelling of a six-year-old.  It was a sweet note with a cute little drawing of their family, Lefou and Stanley holding hands in the middle.  At the bottom of the card, Michelle had even convinced Charlotte and Barney to sign it.

“Thank you, darling, I’ll be sure to put it in my book when we get home.”  Lefou said, kissing Michelle’s head.  He kept all the cards and drawings his children made for him in a scrapbook he often liked to page through.  He still had the first wobbly drawing of flowers Charlotte made for him when she was hardly more than two.

“What do we do on anniversaries?”  Michelle asked, wedging herself between her parents in the bed.

Lefou laughed.  “Daddy and I are going to dinner tonight, no kids allowed.”

“No kids allowed” were three of Michelle’s least favorite words, and she made her opinion known with a disgruntled noise.

“But you get to spend the day with Uncle Gaston, and your brother and sister,”  Stanley pointed out.

Michelle's response was a much cheerier noise.

Before long, there was another knock at the door, this time it was Barney, asking if Michelle wanted to go downstairs for some breakfast.

Michelle's noise was the happiest of all for the promise of sugary cereal was better than anything else Stanley or Lefou could have said.

“Are you coming too?”  Michelle asked, once she had reached the door and opened it, revealing her brother, still in his Superman pajama pants, and sporting an impressive case of bed-head.

“We’ll be down in a bit,”  Lefou said.  “Go on ahead.”

Michelle slammed the door behind her, and Lefou let out a laugh.  “I love that girl more than anything, but she has far too much energy for seven o'clock in the morning.”

“Shopping, shopping, shopping,”  Michelle sang as Gaston hoisted her onto his shoulders.  Disney Springs was crowded tonight, and he knew her well enough to know she had a habit of running off when something interesting caught her eye.

Barney and Charlotte were beside him, debating on which restaurant was the best one to stop at for dinner, while Michelle was insistent to find something to add to her ever growing Little Mermaid collection.  Gaston was just hoping to keep them out of their parents’ hair long enough for them to finish whatever they had planned for the evening… Perhaps he didn't want to know what they had planned, exactly.

“Ooh, let's stop here!”  Michelle said, pointing her finger in the direction of one of the shops.

Gaston was starving, and was really hoping Charlotte and Barney would make up their minds soon so they could get something to eat, but he supposed they could make a detour while they decided.

He led them into the store, and placed Michelle on the floor.  “Stay close to us, you.”

Michelle nodded, before taking Barney’s hand and leading him toward the back of the building.

“I guess she saw something she liked,”  Charlotte snorted, before wandering off to browse the shelves herself.

Gaston headed to the opposite end of the shop, wondering if there was anything with antlers to add to his own house.  The Bambi stuffed animal Michelle brought home for him after her last trip still sat proudly in his room.

“UNCLE GASTON!”  Michelle’s voice rang throughout the store, causing a few people to look in her direction.

Gaston sighed.

Michelle weaved her way through the shelves (and customers) until she reached him, holding something red in her arms.

“It’s Sebastian,”  She explained, offering Gaston the large stuffed toy.  “He goes with my Flounder!  Can I get him?  Pleeeease?”

Gaston never was able to refuse the kids what they wanted, at least not when they gave him those big doe-eyes.

“You’re sure this is what you want?”  Gaston asked, peering at the price tag… Well, at least Lefou had paid for his plane ticket.

“I do, I do, I do!”  Michelle bounced on the balls of her feet, hugging Sebastian tightly.

“Alright, then,”  Gaston chuckled, as Charlotte found her way back to them.

“I think I found an anniversary present for Papa and Stan,”  She said, displaying a little snowglobe with Donald and Daisy Duck on the inside.  Lefou collected snowglobes, and Stanley did love Ducktales.

“It’s perfect,”  Michelle declared, giving her nod of approval.

“I like it too,”  Barney agreed.

“Anything catching your eye, Barney?”  Gaston asked, pulling his wallet from his pocket as they made their way to the cashier.

“Yeah,”  Barney said.  “The restaurant across the street… wait, is that a Mad Hatter hat?”

Splash

Barney pulled his head above water, shaking droplets out of his hair like a dog when he resurfaced.

“Hey,”  Charlotte wiped her face dry with the back of her hand, where Barney had apparently splashed her with the force of his cannonball into the hotel pool.

“It’s a pool, Charlotte,”  Barney laughed, using his hand to splash her intentionally this time.  “You’re supposed to get wet!”

“I know, but my hair takes forever to dry,”  Charlotte said, as Michelle floated by them, her goggles falling down her face.

Before Barney could retort, an even bigger splash soaked all three of them, this time Gaston was the culprit.

Charlotte sighed, wiping her face again.

“When’re Daddy and Papa gonna come in?”  Michelle giggled, as Gaston pulled her from the water, before throwing her back in, her arm floaties causing her to bob like a buoy.

“Right about now,”  Stanley said, walking into the pool room, and placing his towel on a table, Lefou close behind.

Michelle cheered as her parents walked tentatively into the cool water.

Michelle doggy-paddled over to Stanley, while Lefou - clad in a pair of heinously neon swim trunks - made his way to where Barney and Charlotte were wading.

“It’s humid in here,”  He commented, already beginning to sweat.

“That's because you still have a shirt on, Papa,”  Barney said.  “Are you afraid of getting sunburned inside?”

If Barney didn't know any better, he would say Lefou was turning a little pink in the face.  “Maybe if your father hadn't…”

Lefou cleared his throat, muttering something about his anniversary, and Barney tried not to imagine why he kept pulling his neckline a little higher, and why Stanley kept throwing mischievous glances in their direction.

Charlotte snorted, her laugh echoing through the high ceiling.

It was late on their final day of vacation, and Charlotte was sitting in her wheelchair, Michelle asleep in her lap.  While she didn't want the week to end, she was exhausted, and couldn't wait to tell her mother all about her trip - and to sleep in her own bed again.

Barney was revoked of his wheelchair-pushing rights after he rammed into Gaston’s ankles three consecutive times, and Lefou had taken over, while his son followed sleepily behind.

The parade was enchanting as ever, and now they were all gathered around a garbage can in their matching Mickey ears, while they waited for the fireworks to start.

“You wanna see the fireworks, Michelle?”  Charlotte asked, adjusting the girl in her lap.

Michelle mumbled something unintelligible and nuzzled her face further against Charlotte’s shoulder.  Charlotte supposed they had already seen them a few times.

… and yet, they never seemed to get old.

Her father always told her the fireworks were his favorite part of the day, and Charlotte now understood why.  She watched in awe as bright colors exploded over the sky and reflected on that beautiful castle, all while her favorite Disney songs played behind them.  The first night they’d seen them, she cried… and she thought she might again tonight as a final farewell.

The song faded into “You’ll Be in My Heart”, and she was certain she heard Lefou sniffle behind her.  That song always seemed to make him emotional for some reason.

Charlotte hugged Michelle a little tighter as the finale blasted, and she heard the ooh’s and ahh’s of the people around them, and thought she might have let one out herself.  She couldn't help it.

The crowd erupted into applause, and Charlotte contributed the best she could with her sister constricting her arm movement.

“I’ll never get tired of that,”  Lefou commented, as they followed the funnel of people out of the park one last time.

“It’s really beautiful,”  Charlotte agreed, while Barney only yawned impressively.  Their trip had apparently worn him out just as much as it did herself.

“But,”  Stanley leaned down and lifted Michelle out of Charlotte’s chair, and onto his shoulder.  “I still wish I could figure out who that princess in the yellow dress was!”

Charlotte smiled to herself, choosing not to say a word.  She supposed he would figure it out on his own eventually.

[mini-min-yoongi]

October AO3 Yoonmin readings:

1) Just like a tattoo (i’ll always have you)

Yoongi eyes him curiously, a small smirk playing on his lips as he observes Jimin’s movements. “First time?”

“Y-yes, I’m a virgin!” Jimin squeaks out, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, embarrassed at his own words.

Some sexual innuendos, Yoongi covered in tattoos and a very shy Jimin. Perfect combination.

2) Kickstart Series (Gang AU) (*)

This entire series is a masterpiece, I loved the story and all the characters. I recommend reading every single one even if Yoonmin is not the main focus in some of them.

2.1. Experto Crede (*)

“I-I don’t understand…” Jimin said, eyes watering as he focused on Yoongi. “I thought…you were going to kill me…in the bathroom.”

“Yeah, well so did I,” Yoongi said wryly, and Jimin flinched, trying to make himself impossibly smaller.

AKA It is a truth universally acknowledged, that Min Yoongi in possession of a heart will be in want of sleep.

I’m not lying when I say that i REALLY liked this one. If I’m not mistaken, this was my first time reading a gang yoonmin au and it was awesome. Dark and protective Yoongi taking care of a scarred Jimin. Keep in mind that this story deals with abuse and torture so please don’t read it unless you are comfortable with those themes. The only “bad” thing about this fic is that it’s only three chapters long (I needed more when I finished it SO BAD). Luckily, the author did a sequel which is the next one ->

2.2. Attero (*)

“Beautiful,” the man repeated under his breath, and Jimin felt a cold shiver travel from the bottom of his back to the nape of his neck. The way he said it wasn’t a compliment, or an observation, it was…it was like something Dongwon would have said, smiling as he held Jimin’s head underwater or ripped out chunks of his hair. It touched something that Jimin thought he’d buried a long time ago.

“H-have a n-nice day,” Jimin said softly, curling his fingers into his uniform apron. Sometimes it was best to pretend.

“Get lost,” Jungkook jerked his chin towards the door. “And don’t come back!” he called after the man, who glanced over his shoulder one last time before leaving the café.

*Follows Experto Crede

I loved seeing Jungkook and his foul mouth working as a barista and trying to protect Jimin with all his might. Also, Yoongi trying to be extremely careful with Jimin, worried about having scared him or disappointing him because of his actions. In general, Yoongi being so soft towards Jimin and wanting to protect him is such a contrast to his profession as a hitman (I MEAN HE CALLS HIM JIMINNIE). It’s a great sequel to Experto Crede and it shows us more of what Jimin had to go through during all those years so please be careful because it contains descriptions of torture and it can be triggering for some people.

2.3. Solus (Jungkook centric) (*)

“Yoongi changed you,” Jin said softly. “But Jimin is changing Yoongi.”

Jungkook frowned, teeth grinding together. “But…but I…” he said, looking at Jin hopelessly. “I don’t want him to change…”

*Companion piece to Experto Crede, but can be read independently.

MY BABY JUNGKOOKIE. I didn’t know I needed this but I really did. I appreciate so much this one because I came to understand better Jungkook’s actions in the first part. He really went through a lot and he just wants to be cherished and loved by the people who helped him and who he also loves. Also, I loved seeing Yoongi’s change in behaviour when he’s with Jimin through the eyes of another person. But the most important thing is how Yoongi cares so much about Jungkook but he’s not able to show him because he feels guilty. The hug broke my heart.

2.4. Cor Aut Mors (Namjoon & Seokjin)

The day Kim Namjoon said no to Kim Seokjin would be the day the earth stopped turning on its axis.

*Companion piece to Experto Crede, but can be read independently.

2.5. Caritas (Hoseok & Taehyung)

“Hoseok,” the boy answered distractedly, looking around the small space, the single bed. “Tae’s room? Are you Tae?”

“Mostly,” Tae shrugged. “Except when they give me medicine, and then I feel much less like him than I’m supposed to.”

“I feel that,” the boy nodded, reaching his arms over his head to stretch, a few joints popping along the way. “Remind me to never try and kill myself again,” he muttered. “One stupid time and they stick you in an asylum for half a year. But hell, I guess it worked. I don’t wanna’ die anymore, I wanna’ kill my family for sticking me in here.”

*Companion piece to Experto Crede, but can be read independently.

3) Give me a sign

Yoongi thinks the universe is a dick for a lot of reasons. Reason #1: It gave a deaf person a soul-mark that revolves around speech. Reason #2: Once he decided to hate his soulmate no matter what they were like, the universe gave him a really attractive soulmate. Reason #3: Said soulmate is overly kind, no matter how much of a dick Yoongi is. Reason #4: Yoongi is definitely fucked.

Soulmates au, deaf and stubborn Yoongi and some bullying. It was a good read.

4) Burn It Up (contains smut) (*)

“Hey,” Yoongi says. “It’s okay, what’s up?”

“I — ” Jimin stutters. “They — I dunno, hyung, I don’t — I think they might have fucked up my dosage or — I don’t — ” His voice cracks and he swallows, a little involuntary noise spilling out of his mouth as he tries to catch his breath.

Yoongi’s eyes widen in realization, something cold and numb slithering around his heart and squeezing so tight he feels like he’s suffocating.

“I think I’m in — ”

Alpha Yoongi and omega Jimin. They are both in BTS. I liked it a lot because the author mixed smut with angst and Yoongi tells us about his past and I really liked reading about his inner turmoil.

5) Where the heart is (contains smut) (*)

She hadn’t been ready to be a mother and Yoongi hadn’t been ready to be a father, but where she had turned tail and run, Yoongi had vowed never to do the same.

Single parent yoongi and babysitter jimin. I’ve been wanting to read this for a very long time and it didn’t disappoint. This story was extremely cute and the smut was GREAT even though what i enjoyed the most was reading about their struggles before they could have sex (living with a little kid is not the ideal scenario for sexy time) and the epilogue

6) Sweeter than sweet (contains smut) (*) 

Cupcake shop owner park jimin always worries & waits for his husband, special agent, min yoongi to come back home but one night he doesn’t.

I knew I was going love this the moment I saw the description. I really like seeing bangtan in the role of secret agents and gang aus and if you add a baker Jimin the combination can only be as sweet as this one.

7) Crybaby (work in progress) (*)

Min Yoongi and Park Jimin navigate the troubles of childhood, adolescence and young adulthood together; and all of the ups, downs and trauma that life brings.

“What’s the Park clan’s number one motto huh, Yoongi?”

“…Love yourself.”

GO READ THIS ONE RIGHT NOW. In this story, kid Yoongi has selective mutism and suffers from anxiety. I want to protect little Yoongi with all I have. It’s a work in progress but it’s going to depict Yoongi and Jimin’s lives as they grow up. I don’t like reading stories that are not complete but i’ve been wanting to read it since august and i finally gave in. It’s so well-written, I love Yoongi, Jimin and Jimin’s parents. I just loved all of it and I find Yoongi’s condition so heartbreaking and interesting and in a way relatable. I’ve been dealing with social anxiety for a very long time and even though it has never been to such an extent it still hits close to home and my heart breaks for little yoongs. Can’t wait to see how this story develops, (Seriously, I’m so obsessed with this story that I even made a moodboard because I’ve got no chill).

8) Bullet Boy (work in progress) (*)

If you want to make it big, you’ve got to start off small. This is something that Jimin acknowledges, for he just carries on singing features for underground rappers in the hopes of breaking into the mainstream scene even when the lyrics mean nothing to him.

If you want to make it in the scene, you’ve got to fake it in the scene. This is something that Yoongi understands intimately. But he’s never been one to be a poser, and there’s only far stuntin’ can get you before you burn out like the end of a cigarette.

Yoongi finally wants to move on from his bad past and take the gamble so that he can drop his first mixtape as ‘D-boy’, and he can’t think of anyone more perfect to feature on it than rising talent: Park Jimin.

Jimin really wants to break free from nights spent singing at hip hop clubs for a pittance and finally have his name on an official track in the music charts, but he’s going to need some help navigating the brutal world of music contracts and the paparazzi; and being involved in a scandal the likes of which the industry has never seen before.

GO READ THIS ONE RIGHT NOW TOO. This is another story I didn’t want to start until it was finished but OH WELL. It’s so good, like so freaking good. Her characters are all complex and I love it when fics deal with serious issues such as homophobia. This story is also set in South Korea and the author is working hard to get all the details right and I find that so commendable because it’s not easy at all. I really like how Yoongi ad Jimin kinda fall into the relationship slowly and naturally. I know there’s going to be so much more angst as the story progresses and it’s going to break my heart but the author said that it’ll have a happy ending so I’d recommend everyone to give it a try. It’s seriously good.

9) Pretty Little Baby Boy (contains smut) (*)

Jimin glanced through the open gap in the bag to see starched white cotton and a flash of bright red tartan, and that was when he realised what he was looking at.

Yoongi had brought a schoolgirl uniform to the love motel with him, which he was quite clearly going to wear just for him.

I read it this summer but I totally forgot about it because I didn’t write it down so that’s why I’m including it now (also i just reread it because it’s so good so here you go). Soft smut is always a blessing. Yoongi and Jimin explore crossdressing in this fic and you can find insecure Yoongi and reassuring boyfriend Jimin who is eager to see this side of his lover. Everything about this was so freaking cute. ALSO, Jimin taking pictures of Yoongi crossdressing was SO GOOD.

 Special mention of the month: 

~Creating a Home Series by  (*)

Namjoon/Seokjin + the rest of BTS as their foster/adopted kids

(She’s got a Tumblr account @thecheekybrunette so give her lots of love for such an amazing story) (Thank you so much for making me feel so many things and giving me five kids that I’ve come to love as if they were my own)

1.1. Welcome Home (*)

Seokjin is used to getting calls from social workers at all hours of the day, but never this late at night.

(In which Hoseok loses a mom and gains two dads and four brothers.)

This has to be my favourite namjin story I’ve read until now. I loved their characters and how they are not only a great couple but also the best team. They both care so much for each other and their children. All the children in this story have a special place in my heart: shy Hoseok, anxious Yoongi, loving but sometimes not gentle Jimin, epileptic and dramatic Taehyung and the cutest baby ever (I want to hug him and pinch his cheeks in every scene) Jungkook. This fic shows the hardships of taking care of children that aren’t yours and have many problems but also how that makes you love, care and worry about them even more. I loved this one too much.

1.2. Big Kids, Young Adults (work in progress)

“Jungkook had been so sweet growing up. He had the cutest little bunny smile, and he used to like snuggling something as he walked around, like his Elmo plushie or his teddy bear. He had been so cute.

And now he was so grumpy.”

(In which Jungkook forgets his place at home, and the rest of his family does their best to support him and each other.)

Sequel to Welcome Home. The kids have grown up and are teenagers now. It depicts the struggles that normal teenagers go through, but they have extra luggage that they are carrying from their childhood traumas and illnesses. I love how much Namjoon and Seokjin try to communicate with them and try their hardest with all of them even when sometimes they make mistakes. They are such loving parents and my heart broke so many times when reading especially with Taehyung, Yoongi and Jungkook. A scene that I won’t forget is when Jungkook lashes out at Seokjin in the car on their way to the psychologist, I seriously teared up because it was too real. Can’t wait to read the following chapters.

1.3. I Have You

There wasn’t an untouched piece of skin left on Jimin that Jin could see. There was blood matted in his hair and bruises webbing across his face. Maybe he was better off under his clothes, but something about Jimin’s bitten hands told him otherwise. His chest constricted.

“Up,” Jimin repeated, his soft forehead wrinkling in confusion.

Seokjin shook himself out of it. “Yeah, honey, come here,” he said, his throat closing up. The words were barely a squeak.

Jimin’s first night at Seokjin and Namjoon’s house.

1.4. Something to Do and Someone to Love

“Watching Seokjin take such good care of their son always made Namjoon feel like the luckiest man alive. He had such great kids and such a great husband.

One thing was for certain: Seokjin had made him promise to not let the kids spend more than ten dollars each on him, but he deserved way more than that. Namjoon was going to have to raise the budget just a little bit.”

In which, Seokjin wants his kids to have a perfect Christmas, Namjoon wants Seokjin to have a perfect Christmas, and this one is more about the dads.

The family celebrating Christmas. For some of them it’s their first Christmas and it’s the sweetest. Jungkookie in this one made me want to hug him so much, my heart melted.

1.5. Puffy Eyes and a Pink Nose

Seokjin came into the living room, wrapping his robe a little tighter against his body. “Look who’s asleep,” Seokjin said. His voice was soft in the wee hours of the morning.

“And look who’s not,” Namjoon replied as Seokjin joined him on the couch, curling into his side. “Why don’t you go back to bed, babe?”

“Nah. Wouldn’t want to miss out on all the fun.“

(In which Jungkook wreaks havoc during his first few days at Seokjin and Namjoon’s house, but it’s not his fault at all.)

Jungkook suffering from Neonatal Abstinence Syndrom and Seokjin and Namjoon doing their best even when it is too much to handle, especially when they have to watch their baby suffering and being unable to do something about it.

1.6. Lucky to Have Someone Like You

“Hey,” Namjoon said, pressing a kiss to Taehyung’s cheek. His nose flattened against Taehyung’s temple. “No crying. You’re okay. We’re going to eat dinner.”

(In which Seokjin, Jimin, and Namjoon all take care of Taehyung post-seizure.)

I have developed such an attachment to epileptic!Taehyung you don’t even understand.

1.7. Sunscreen and Sunshine

“Splish splash,” Jungkook said, smushed up against the edge of his playpen. Seokjin detangled himself from Jimin and Taehyung and freed Jungkook from the fence encircling him. The sand engulfed his tiny feet when Seokjin put him down.

“Do you wanna come walking with us, Jungkookie?” Seokjin asked.

“Splish splash with Chim Chim,” Jungkook said seriously, his cheeks flushed from the hot sun. Seokjin held his hand.

“Okay, let’s go splish splash,” he agreed, looking to see if Namjoon was ready to go. He had Taehyung clinging to his back and Hoseok’s hand in his.

“Ready?” Namjoon asked.

Seokjin squeezed Jungkook’s hand. “Ready.”

(In which Namjoon and Seokjin take the boys to the beach.)

Namjoon and Seokjin go to the beach with their five little kids which means laughter, tears, fears, excitement and every emotion you can think of. This was too cute, especially Jungkook’s obsession with crabs.

1.8. Vulnerable

“Jin?” Namjoon piped up, his voice small in the silence that had washed over them. Seokjin grunted in acknowledgement. “Do you ever… Do you ever…” Namjoon played with the hem of his sheets. “Do you ever think about what it’ll be like to bury Taehyung?”

Seokjin’s book fell closed.

(In which Namjoon is terrified for his newest foster son, and rightfully so.)

Namjoon’s special connection with Taehyung and his inability to stop worrying about him. It broke my heart when he talks about his fears to Seokjin.

* my favourite stories

[tenroseforeverandever]

Dear Father Christmas... Chapter 7: December 24, 2022

MASTERPOST

Characters:  Tentoo; Rose Tyler; Jackie Tyler; Pete Tyler; Tony Tyler; OC Hope Tyler-Noble; OC Charlotte Tyler-Noble; OC Wilfred Tyler-Noble

Rated: Teen

Tags: Family!Fic; Kid!Fic; Pete’s World; Letters to Santa; Christmas Fic; Family; Fluff; Hurt/Comfort; Angst; Romance; Love

Summary: When Rose Tyler was little, she always wrote a Christmas wish list to Father Christmas. As she grew older, the wish list became more of a letter to someone she could confide in once a year, but she fell out of the habit somewhere along the way. Now, as a new mum, celebrating her daughter’s first Christmas, Rose takes up writing her Christmas letter to Father Christmas once again.

Rose’s Christmas letters are excerpts from her life with her beloved Tentoo and their children in Pete’s World, written once a year, for each of 31 years.

Chapter Summary: When Tony decides to run away a few days before Christmas, the Tyler household is in an uproar, but he learns a valuable lesson in his absence..

Notes: Love to my wonderful beta team, mrsbertucci and @rose–nebula. You two are the very best!

A little angst and hurt/comfort. I love this one. Please enjoy.

Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. A reminder that I am using the prompts very much out of order, but I intend to use them all. The prompt I used today was Bells.

Also read at: AO3; FF.net; Teaspoon

December 24th, 2022

Dear Father Christmas,

Sometimes things seem to happen at the most inconvenient times, and it can be incredibly frustrating. And sometimes it seems those frustrating experiences happen for a reason, that the universe has a grand plan. What happened this past week was one of those experiences.

Me and the Doctor had just taken the TARDIS out on an unexpected diplomatic mission for Torchwood to Trunfleerin, a small Earth-like planet in the Gamma Quadrant. Because of the official nature of the mission, and because we were bringing several other people along, we decided it was best to leave the kids with Mum and Dad. It was a bit of a wrench, though, leaving the family this close to Christmas. Sometimes these missions end up taking way longer than expected, and while we have a time ship at our beck and call, we’ve vowed not to “time it” unless absolutely necessary. We use the TARDIS for time travel, yes, but just to visit places in the past and future; we never use it to make up for lost time in our own timeline, however tempting. The Doctor could cite all kinds of reasons for this, but for me, the most important one is that it whittles away the time you get to spend enjoying your forever with your family, ‘cause you’re aging yourself faster relative to them.

So when the invitation came in from the Trunfleerineen, as Extraterrestrial Ambassador to Earth, I couldn’t exactly decline, no matter how close to Christmas it was.

One of the Trunfleerineen ships had crash-landed on Earth, a little over a year ago and they’d been impressed with the kind welcome and aid they’d received from us Earthlings. They wanted to thank us for our generosity, and said they’d be honoured if we could stay for a few days and participate in the “Mourning” with them.

The Doctor told us, back in the Prime Universe, the Trunfleerineen were utterly decimated by a species called the Annexians; they’re sort of parasitic, I guess, unable to reproduce the normal way. There’s a long history there I’m not going to get into at the moment, but anyway, apparently they’re notorious all over the quadrant for kidnapping the young of other species to gradually and painfully turn them into Annexians through genetic manipulation. Only the children of a species will do, as they’re still developing. Once they reach adulthood, they are only good for slavery or breeding.

The Trunfleerineen are basically humanoid in appearance, with beautiful dark skin, huge green and yellow eyes, and tall tufted ears. They’re gorgeous, but they’re very delicate: small and slender, with fragile bones. Completely vulnerable. The Doctor says the low gravity on their planet probably contributed to that. The point is, being built the way they were, they were useless as slave labour, and in the Prime Universe they were slaughtered. In this universe, they were spared. No one knows why. Maybe the Annexians plan to come back and harvest them later. At any rate, they’re just thankful for a second chance, but they’ve been left devastated by the loss of their children. The Mourning ceremony we will be attending is held annually to honour those lost souls.

We’d been there a couple of days, visiting various sites all over their beautiful world, meeting the first baby born after the invasion (he was only four years old, Charlie’s age; every single child on that planet was younger than him), and attended several diplomatic functions. Just prior to the Mourning ceremony was a banquet of thanks for the lives spared and for the newly created lives that had a chance at a better future.

At the banquet, I was seated next to one of the females; Thir was her name. She had me in tears telling me about her babies who were taken, and her mate who was killed defending them. She was just telling me how she had been chosen to open the Mourning ceremony this year, when I was interrupted by my mobile blaring out the Imperial March from my pocket.

Mum.

She was completely frantic. Tony’d run away, and they couldn’t find him… anywhere! It was like he’d just disappeared off the face of the Earth (Mum’s words but I couldn’t help wondering if there was more truth in them than she knew.)

The day we’d left, he’d told them he was staying overnight with a friend; then they assumed he’d been at school the following day. He’d had footie practise scheduled for that night, and it wasn’t unusual for him to get in late from that. Dad was late at work and Mum had fallen asleep watching telly, exhausted by my three hooligans, so they just assumed he’d slipped in unnoticed and gone to bed. So it was only the next morning when they found the horrendous note he’d left them, informing them he was sick of them telling him what he can and cannot do all the time, and that it was time he struck out on his own. That was the gist of it anyway.

I felt a weird combination of things over that call with my mum: relief that my own babies were safe and well; and a whole mess of different emotions about Tony. First of all, despite being a bit frightened for Tony (especially once Mum got a hold of him), I knew he had a good head on his shoulders and was pretty resourceful. He’d be all right. I made sure I told Mum that, but she wouldn’t listen. I could hear Dad in the background, trying to be a voice of reason, agreeing with everything I was saying.

Secondly, I was more than a bit shocked. My straight-laced brother saying stuff like that, even in a note, just blew my mind. He’s always been so… well, so good. Not perfect, by any means; he’s a Tyler, so his independent streak shows up quite often. But, independent or not, he’s always played by the rules. Bent them sometimes, but never broken them. Now, apparently, his “inner-Rose” is starting to show, and rule-breaking is back on the Tyler table. Blimey, right before Christmas, too! I gotta hand it to the kid, he knows how to maximize the impact of his actions. And yes, I admit, that was another thing I was feeling: a bit of (very restrained) pride.

After speaking with the Doctor, we decided I should return to Earth to help find Tony and to provide moral support for Mum. Our hosts were, of course, totally gracious about me leaving, especially with how the nature of the situation (a lost child) resonated with them. I went straight to the TARDIS and entered my coordinates (I’m quite adept at piloting, now) but had the Doctor check my settings just to be safe.

Dad texted just before I left. It turns out three days ago, Tony had been seen entering Torchwood. He’d told security he was meeting Dad for lunch. Thing was, he was never seen leaving, and he never showed for lunch. And it turns out one of the Doctor’s perception filters that he’d been working on had gone missing too. I showed the Doctor the message, and he quietly passed me his sonic. He gave me a kiss and told me he hoped I’d find Tony soon. As the doors closed behind him, I reached to press the launch button, but instead, activated the sonic, casting it around the room.

Sure enough, there was Tony, watching me in confusion from an arm chair up in the gallery. He didn’t know the perception filter wasn’t working anymore; he was just wondering why I hadn’t launched. I saw the moment the ball dropped and he realized I was making direct eye contact with him. His face turned so red. Blimey, he looked terrified.

He made his way down to me, soooo slowly, avoiding meeting my eyes, which was just as well; I was struggling to keep a stern expression on my face. I mean, half of me wanted to throttle him, but the other (somewhat smaller) half wanted to give him a high five.  

He started to panic when he saw me texting into my mobile. I told him I was just telling Mum and Dad I’d found him and that he was safe. I also told them I’d bring him back after the Mourning ceremony.

Mum was probably going mental, but he wanted to travel the stars, well, this was his big opportunity.

He was about the same size as most of the Trunfleerineen, so they were able to provide us with some formal robes for him. When we walked over to meet the Doctor and take our seats in the amphitheatre around the symbolic Tree of Life, the Doctor arched a critical eyebrow at Tony and the poor boy’s face flushed beet red again. He looked like he wanted die of shame, especially faced with the Doctor’s displeasure. I’d seen the way he looked at the Doctor. I knew the look well from my reflection in the mirror, especially when I had first been traveling with him: he had a bit of a crush on the Doctor, and wanted him to be proud of him. I could hardly blame him.

As night fell, and the entire amphitheatre was finally filled, everything suddenly went quiet. I don’t think I’ve ever been to such a solemn or beautiful tribute. I don’t think I ever will again. The silence was broken by the most exquisite sound: a tiny chime in the night, the sound of a bell. It seemed to reverberate and grow, and as it grew, a single light began to shine on the Tree of Life. It was followed by two more chimes, two more lights. I could just make out my friend, Thir, standing down by the tree: this was her tribute to her three lost babies. Then all around us, the air filled with the sound of hundreds upon hundreds of bells; the Tree glowed. Tears were flooding down my cheeks and when I looked at Tony, he was sobbing quietly beside me. I put my arm around him, and he snuggled against me. The Doctor draped a protective arm around us both.

Once the ceremony was concluded, we gathered our delegation and offered our gratitude and condolences to our hosts. They asked us to stay for several more nights, and I have to say, I was proud to hear Tony speak up on our behalf. I wish I could remember his exact words: something about thanking them for their generous offer, but that this time of year, for us, is one we like to spend with our families, and after the tribute he just witnessed, he really just wanted to give his own mother a hug for all the worry he’d caused her. Pretty mature. I was impressed. I’d say the future of Torchwood is in pretty good hands.

He and Mum were beside themselves when we got home, yesterday. Mum was furious, but just so relieved to have him safely returned to her. It reminded me a lot of how it had been when the Doctor brought me back after being away for twelve months instead of twelve hours. Fortunately, this time, the Doctor wasn’t on the receiving end of a Jackie Tyler slap.

Hope, Charlie, and Wilfred came barrelling out to see us when they heard our voices, and Charlie, jumping up and down, asked if we’d be able to go to Yultidia again this year, since there was still another whole day until Christmas Eve. I had to give her a “we’ll see” ‘cause I wasn’t sure if Mum needed me to stick around for moral support.

As it turns out, we did make it to Yultidia. Not only that, but with the help of my very persuasive children (my darling husband knew when to keep his mouth shut) we convinced Mum and Dad (mostly Mum) to put Tony’s punishment on hold for a few days (to be honest I think he’d already learned his lesson) and the entire family actually came on board the TARDIS for a trip to spend all of Christmas on Yultidia. Mum claimed she was “too bloomin’ fagged” to make Christmas dinner, this year, anyway, but if we ended up on some prehistoric planet getting eaten by dinosaurs, there’d be hell to pay.

Yultidia’s where you’ll find us tonight, Santa! Love to Mrs. Claus, the elves, and reindeer too!

Happy Christmas, Rose

[beforehefell]

                                        Before He Fell                            ~Chapter Three - Entry 08~

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          “He’s kidding right?” She thought to herself skeptically as she watched the dear doctor lay out the cards carefully across a newly cleared section of the work bench’s surface. Each card held a letter or number; spanning thirty-six total cards for each letter of the English alphabet, or Common as he called it, and numbers zero through nine. They reminded her of the cards used to teach toddlers.

           “Don’t give me that look.” Gaster stated, finally looking over to her as he finished laying out the cards, “This will only be a temporary measure until you begin to actually speak to me, I understand it is not the most efficient method. Or do you feel comfortable enough to use signs now?”

           Brushing her bangs aside she sighed as she simply huffed in reply to his comment. “Sign language…” She was studying, watching and replicating each slide that he provided her but… she stretched her fingers lightly, watching them bend. It was rather hard for her to grasp. WingDings was something she understood only because her mind began to adapt from years of hearing Gaster speaking it. Even now her mind was learning what each movement meant but to replicate them… it never felt right. She was sure she could produce simple sentences if she really tried but she… what if…

           “Not… not yet.” She decided and ceased floating, the bottoms of her bare feet silently tapping onto the tile floor. No matter how many times she moved ‘normally’ it continued to unsettle her when her movements caused no sounds. It is why she preferred to glide, at least then her mind was able to cope with the soundlessness.

           There was another reason of course to why she preferred to remain airborne. This reason was staring down at her as she drifted to stand beside the skeleton. It was only when she grounded herself that she was reminded of their height difference, it made her uneasy having him loom over her. She always felt a sort of satisfaction when he was forced to look up at her when they spoke, and in times like now she felt… vulnerable as he looked down upon her.

           She pushed the unease to the back of her mind, reminding herself that despite his past in regards to her physical body, he had been nothing but civil with her since they began interacting. She didn’t enjoy the way he objectified her, calling her ‘it’ and ‘human’ but there was no real harm to it and her title was something she had come to terms with of her own choosing.

           “I assume you understand how this will work?” Gaster questioned, gesturing to the cards.

           She nodded in reply, it was a simple idea. Spell out her answers to form words and sentences. It was basic and crude in the ways of communication but she supposed that given the amount of time he had dealt with yes, no, and trying to interpret her gestures for meanings it was understandable that he would want to try a method that would give more detailed answers. At least until she felt comfortable enough to speak in signs.

           “First question. A simple one.” He started, picked up his clip board and looking at his notes; which she had no idea how to read since he wrote everything in his language. She understood him just fine but reading the written form of his words was something she just could not do. “Are you… human?”

           “Simple. Right.” She thought, rolling her eyes and reaching forward and spelling out her answer, “Y-E-S-F-E-M-A-L-E-T-O-O” Adding in her gender as a preemptive move to what she thought would be the next ridiculous question.

           “So, this gives evidence that your lack of sign usage is not caused by your inability to spell.” Was his reply to the addition, a jab at her lack of progress but she watched in satisfaction as she noticed him cross out two lines on the paper of questions; knowing that despite the fact she could not read WingDings, she had correctly predicted his next question.

           “Next question. How old are you?”

           This caused her to give an exasperated sigh, “I expected something deeper.” She retorted mentally before reaching forward to spell out her answer, but stopped, her hang hovering over the cards as she began to realize the question.

           How old was she? Her mind turned trying to come to an answer. “When I fell… I was... but I’m not anymore… it’s… it’s been years… How… how old am I?” She had been in the tank for ages, unaware for so long. Even when she was finally conscious she had drifted in and out of that consciousness so often, time had become meaningless to her… Yet now, presented with this question it brought to mind another, one she had stopped considering long ago… “How long have I been down here?”

           How long since she had seen her family and friends? How long since she last saw a sunrise while jogging? How long since that night?  How long… since she had died?

           She pulled her hand back slowly, her hand shaking.  She bit the tip of her thumb as her mind reeled. “How long did they look for me? Do they still think about me? Did they ever find out about-“

           “Your age when you fell.” Gaster provided, his calm voice breaking through her inner turmoil. Her eyes turned to him, now noticed the glaze that covered them as she did. She blinked, and tears slid down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away and gave the doctor a light nod, thankful for the clarification. As well as pulling her from the dark thoughts she fought to avoid.

           She looked back at the cards tentatively, now more cautious of the questions he was asking her. Reaching forward she pointed to two cards, one and seven, spelling out ‘seventeen’ as her answer to the question.

           “Seventeen…” She had died at seventeen. She sighed as her memories of her life danced in her head, “Forever seventeen… Sounds like a bad movie...”

           “Actually...” Gaster started, his pen tapping the edge of the clipboard lightly as he spoke, pulling her attention to him once again. Her mind spun, was he going to tell her how long she had been down here? Her real age? “Given that your body does age while stasis, albeit much slower… I would say eighteen would be accurate in describing your physical age.”

           Relief flooded her as his words reached her. She didn’t want to know, she realized. She didn’t want to know how long she had been dead or trapped in the prison that was her body. She fought with every piece of her being to not think about what she had lost. It was what she enjoyed most about speaking to Gaster; he didn’t want to know her, he wanted to know humans.

           She couldn’t help but smile at the statement. At his, unintentional as it may have been, kindness.

           Running her hands through her hair and stretching, he took a deep breath and nodded towards her companion that they could continue.

           His next questions were more in-depth, asking various questions about surface life. How tall plants tended to grow, how we produced our food, even what the monarchy was like. This one perked her interest because it let her know that Monsters had a monarchy. Humans had them as well but her region was governed by a President. Some of the questions were strange and not simple to answer and for every question she answered she saw him cross it out and write down more.

           She knew that he would have plenty more to ask once she began to use signs.

           She was beginning to feel tired, the effort of the responses starting to take effect. She was not enjoying this method of communication at all.

           “What was your profession?”

           She did a double take, looking at the skeleton for the first time since really getting into the answers. It was the first time she could recall that he had asked questions specific to her life on the surface. Even their yes and no conversations where more of a game of charades as he tried to learn about what life on the surface was like.

           She swallowed lightly and quickly pointed out her answer, wanting to move to the next one. Hoping it wasn’t focused on her, “High School Student.”

           She could see the indented curve above his left eye, the skeleton monster equivalent of his eyebrows, contort in interest at her answer and jot it down on the clipboard.

           “So you are still a child, since you attend school? Hmm… I thought you older given your… apparel.”

           The comment about her clothes confused her as she wondered what it meant but she focusing on the question, spelling out “18 legal adult age senior in school last year.” She huffed as she finished, proud. She did not want him thinking her a child. Though seventeen was not a child, saying eighteen was the legal age would be more convincing as well as adding in she was about to finish school.

           “So you were on the edge of ‘official’ adulthood when you fell.” He replied, noting the response. “What profession were you planning on entering than?”

           “Why more questions about me…” Her mind drifted to the surface. Of Amy and her talking on Career day about their futures.

           “Come on, Speedy! You could total be a Police Officer! They’d never outrun you and you’d help people out and-“

           “I’m not much for violence… I was actually thinking…

           “Social Worker?” Gaster read aloud as she spelled out her answer.

           She nodded, spelling out “Help kids.”

           He studied her carefully, something she was very used to now. For a moment she thought she saw something in his eyes when he looked down and wrote her reply down once again. When he looked back up the neutral expression he always wore had returned.

           Just as he was about to speak again, his watch began to beep. A sign today’s session was over.

           She was thankful for this. She wasn’t enjoying the trip down memory lane and was also beginning to feel exhausted. Hopefully he would not use this method too often, if not at all in the future.

           Gaster turned the timer off, reviewing his clipboard, “One last question before today’s session finishes.”

           She only gave a nod in reply, hoping it would be something simple.

           “What is your name?”

           It was a simple question but it caused her mind to spin none the less.

           “Why that?” why did he have to ask that? She stared at the cards, biting her lip lightly as she considered her answer. She had come to terms with not having a name, come to terms with just being ‘human’. Why did he question it now?

           “Would… it be so bad?” She thought, “Letting him know it?” Her gaze travelled along the room, from the doctor to the desk opposite the room, the tank… her cage. “No… No... I don’t want to hear it! If he says it… if he… that would mean…” She shook her head fiercely, hugging herself.

           “No?” Gaster replied, a hint of annoyance floating in his tone, “It’s a simple question. I am not asking to upset you. I just want to address you properly, by your name.”

           “Me? My name… Why is he asking questions about me?! I’m not anything special… I’m nothing… My name doesn’t exist… Dead things… don’t have names…” Again she shook her head in reply, her hands pressed tightly against her.

           “Do you not remember it?”

           “Remember it…? Of course I do… Just thinking about it makes me…” Images flashes through her mind; her Mom waking her up in the morning, Amy yelling out her name to get her attention in a crowd, Zach-

           “No! No… I don’t want to hear it!”

           “If you remember, why won’t you tell me?”

           She stared at Gaster, her eyes pleading with him. The plea went ignored as he waited expectantly for her answer.  

           She sighed, finally deciding to give an answer. Reaching forward she began to spell that answer out.

           “S-T-O-P-A-S-K-I-N-G” Gaster spoke aloud, reading the words as they were spelt.

           She gained some satisfaction, seeing how taken aback he was her answer.

           “Human, I am asking as nicely as I can.” His tone thick with irritation, “What is your name?”

           The pressure to reply, after her clear indication of not wanting to answer and the stress of his sudden interest in her personal life angered her. She had been doing her best to be polite after the havoc there first interaction had caused but she had thought she had earned some respect from her. It seems she was wrong.

           She glared deeply at the doctor before reaching towards the cards and spelling out her final reply. “Fuck off.” As soon as she was sure he saw the final letter, she faded from view, not wanting to deal with the Monster any longer.

           For a short time she watched, seeing him react to her out lash. If he was upset, he hid it well as he gathered the cards and his supplies. It was only when he went to the laptop that displayed her lessons that he showed any reaction. Instead of starting it up to allow her to view them as normal, he instead shut down and closed the device, leaving it on the desktop in view after he left.

           It seemed childish to do so, but it did hurt her to see it done. Even as unsure of herself as she was with the signs, she stilled enjoyed having the activity of studying available to do. Seeing the device there, so easily accessible just showed how powerless she really was.

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[teenssummercamp]

How a Summer Program Can Transition Your Teen Into a Young Adult

Raising kids is never an exact science.

But science does tell us that the most successful parents have a number of things in common. Teaching your children the skills they’ll need as adults gives them a huge advantage in life.

Summer camps for teens are a fantastic way of developing these skills. It gives them a taste of adult roles and responsibilities beyond the comfort of home.

Below, we’ve put together some of the chief benefits of enrolling your teen for summer camp.

Working With Others

It’s hard to live an adult life as a bad team player.

But working with others is a skill like any other, and we need to practice and hone it.

Summer camp is a brilliant chance for your teen to learn teamworking skills. They’ll carry out activities with their peers and receive encouragement to work together. Often they’ll be expected to own their role in a team.

These skills translate well into the adult world. The ability to organize or participate in a team will serve your teen well when it comes to living and working with others.

You may even find they begin to understand their family is a team, too. You may notice a change when they return home.

Working well with others also opens your teen up to new views and ideas. This creates inventive and flexible thinking that will help them for years to come.

Building Confidence

Let’s face it, the turmoil of puberty is enough to dent anyone’s confidence.

Your teen is going through one of the most intense experiences of their lives. And their future is a big cloud of uncertainty ahead of them. A sense of confidence and self-worth are incredible tools against this uncertainty.

Summer camp will show your teen they’re capable of standing on their own two feet. They’ll learn skills they might currently consider parent skills only. They’ll realize their only real barrier to growing up is in their own mind.

And confidence will carry huge bonuses for them in the future. It’ll help them make friends, secure jobs, and pursue ambitions.

A good camp will encourage your teen to get involved and do. Sometimes, that’s all it takes to develop a little confidence.

Taking Responsibility

Is there a skill which defines adults more than taking responsibility?

Being responsible isn’t a choice for most adults. It’s a fact of adult life. Even at its most basic, we take responsibility for paying our bills and preparing our meals.

But taking greater responsibility also opens up opportunities. Accepting the role you play in your own health and fitness from a young age can change your life. And employers will always think more favorably of the candidate who shows they take responsibility.

Summer camps for teens encourage them to take responsibility for their own life. Without parents around to nag them, they need to organize their own hygiene, behavior, and possessions.

Dodging chores at home might be a sign of laziness or a small act of rebellion. It could surprise you to discover that without your voice to remind them, your teen takes on duties for themselves.

Many teens return from camp with a more productive attitude. They begin to see organizing their lives not as a list of instructions from you, but as things they should want to do for themselves.

Flying Solo

For many teens at summer camp, it’ll be the first time living apart from their parents.

This opens up an entirely new world. They suddenly realize that there’s a life beyond the family home. Although teens know they’ll age into adults one day, it’s hard for them to imagine anything other than the life they’ve always known.

Letting your teen fly solo at summer camp is a great way to bridge these two experiences. It prepares them for the future, whether it’s moving out, going to college, or traveling the world.

But it’s not all about your teen. This is also an opportunity for you to see your teen as an adult. You’ll find this creates a positive feedback loop – the more you see them as an adult, the more they’ll grow into the role.

Looking Inward

Teenage life always feels frantic and emotional. Combine that with the sheer noise of the modern world from the ever-expanding reach of media and it’s no wonder teens feel increasingly confused.

Summer camps for teens are a chance to get in touch with the inner selves. It will force them to mostly switch off from the wider world and see the world immediately in front of them.

Keeping their hands busy also teaches them to focus. It takes their attention away from things they can’t control and puts their feet back on the ground.

These are all vital life experiences. Sometimes, it’s taking the right moment to breathe and look away from the noise that defines adulthood.

Making Friends

In the adult world, it’s often friends who’re there to catch you when you fall.

You might not always be able to help your children, and one day, you won’t even be around. So they need a support network that extends beyond you.

The friends we grow up with may be valuable, but they’re often friends by circumstance. For adults, friendships don’t always emerge naturally from shared history. They demand work and understanding.

Summer camps for teens are a chance for them to learn how to make new friends on adult terms. They’ll meet people from different backgrounds and with different beliefs. It may be the first time they’re not confined to making friends with other kids at school.

These broader horizons will show them a deeper meaning of friendship. They’ll develop friends they can rely on and with whom they can work together.

When camp is over, it might also teach them the virtue of staying in touch – which plenty of us adults could do better at.

Summer Camps for Teens: A Chance to Bloom

Enrolling your teen in summer camp could be one of the most important decisions you may for them. It’s your first real chance to replant your little flower in a larger pot and give them space to bloom.

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The post How a Summer Program Can Transition Your Teen Into a Young Adult appeared first on The Overnight Camp Experts Blog.

[onceuponabedtime]

To my son, when he becomes a teenager,

 I write this letter to you now, two months before your birth, with the understanding that my perspective will change, slowly but significantly, in the years after your arrival. My whole identity will undergo a reconstruction, as it has done before, this time based around you and your sibling(s) (assuming we have more children). I very much look forward to that change, and am prepared to dedicate my life to something other than myself. But, as of today, February 8th 2017, I am still at the center of my own little world, a position I now gratefully share with Shea (more on that particular change in identity in a later letter, perhaps). I am the product of my childhood and still, in a shrinking number of ways, a child myself. I’d like to write to you in that context, son to son, during this brief moment before we begin to define and redefine each other.

 That is a hard concept to grasp- that your father still recognizes the child in himself. To kids, adults always seem large and permanent, like they came into the world as grownups at the beginning of time. And, in one sense, that is true. I remember recognizing how fundamentally different adults were from me, and resolving to not grow into the kind of adult that knew much and cared much about things that mattered little. I admit that in some ways I’ve failed to live up to my childhood resolution. I am often too serious, too focused on trying to act and think in a way that I feel is proper. I play the grownup game of work and life, and try hard to understand the never-ending rules, procedures, and score-keeping system that we’ve built up from thin air. I still love to laugh and play like a child, and your mother brings out my inner dingus (as I’m sure you will), but the light-heartedness and trust in impulse that characterized me as a boy is now harder to reach.

 In other ways, hopefully the ones that matter most, I’ve succeeded in my resolution to stay young at heart. I still judge people by their intentions, and tend to overlook the ways in which they misrepresent themselves. I try to be my authentic self, whether I’m by myself or with others, so as to avoid misrepresentation. I try to make people laugh, and rarely talk as seriously as this letter makes it sound. I am still an innocent, and see the world of adults as a strange and frivolous place, better to be avoided if at all possible.

 All in all, I think my 13 year old self would enjoy getting to know the 28 year old me writing this letter. The 13 year old would be in awe to see his future self’s height, and beard, and beautiful wife. He might be disappointed that I wasn’t as simple and gregarious as some other adults, but having rarely confused personality for character, I think he would be inclined towards forgiveness.

 And what, in this imagined meeting of my current and past selves, would I say to my younger self? What is it I wish to say to you, Elliot, who I haven’t even met, but can know something of through the common human experience? I would say, You are entering an age of freedom and fun. Try new sports, learn meaningful skills, find something that sparks your interest and become an expert in it. Enjoy the trust and joy of your friends’ presence, and recognize the beauty in stillness and solitude as well. Learn to love to read, if you don’t already. Strengthen your connection to nature, and let your body explore its capacity for speed and agility. Take everyone’s advice with a grain of salt, including mine, because you will find your own way.

 I would say also, The teenage years bring unique challenges. Life becomes complicated by new and daunting changes, like whether you are expected to hold and kiss a girl or guy with whom laughter and games have until now been all that was wanted or expected. Others may make this leap faster than you, leaving you doubting your courage or value or attractiveness.

 That voice, the one that tells you your weaknesses and flaws, is a new responsibility in your young adulthood, and will be your greatest challenge in the years to come. It is still mine. More than anything, I would tell myself, that voice can help you, although it only ever seems to try to hurt you. Let it help you. When it calls you a coward, it is really just asking for you to demonstrate your strength. When it calls you ugly, it is really asking to be told it is beautiful. When it calls you stupid, it is reminding you to be patient and humble, because you still have so much to learn. This voice, I think, is what slowly turns a child into an adult. At first, it can seem like an unwelcome guest. Later, you learn to judge it by its intentions, which are to make you a better person. That voice will remind you, years from now, of times when you acted cruelly towards others, or when you embarrassed yourself by acting in a dishonorable way. It will help you avoid repeating those mistakes and reliving the unhappiness they created.

 To my younger self, and to you, Elliot, I would say, welcome that voice. If you treat it with loathing, it will respond in kind. If you treat it with kindness, patience, and compassion, it will also respond in kind. If you search your heart and mind for goodness, and encourage that goodness to grow, your true voice will be able to calm the inner voice of doubt, because it will know that you mean well, even if you make mistakes or are unsure of yourself.

 And it won’t suffice to only treat yourself with kindness, patience, and compassion, and to only find the goodness in your own heart and mind. You must also begin to purposefully treat others well, and to recognize the goodness in them. Please trust and believe, I would say to my younger self, that exposing the weaknesses of others doesn’t give you an ounce more of real strength or confidence. It can build you up, sure, but only to a more precarious height, from which the voice of self-doubt will inevitably drag you down. And don’t forget, all of your classmates must now start to struggle with their own, similar inner doubts. Tearing them down will only make it harder for them to trust and love themselves.

 Elliot, by the time you read this, I will have known you for thirteen or so years. I will have undergone a change as unforeseeable to me now as your mid-twenties are to you. But, having never met you, having only ever seen and felt your kicks against Shea’s stomach, I can tell you this with complete confidence: I love you. I know you are capable of incredible kindness and courage. I know you are on your way to being a source of love and strength for all those around you. Your mistakes are mistakes we all have made, and your shortcomings are ones we all must deal with. Your mind may seem at times like a strange and lonely place, but you are not alone. As you enter your teenage years, never doubt that you can ask or tell me anything. I promise to always be honest with you, and to try to help guide you towards being as wonderful as I know you can be. You begin the journey in two short months, and I’ll be with you every step of the way.

 From one son to another, with love,

Reid