#((forgot the original tag again do starting over lol))

[queenharumiura]

Khr birthdays!

Zakuro (8/7)

Skull (8/8)

Naito Longchamp (8/9)

Ryohei (8/26)

Enzo (8/30)

[rainbow-cheshire]

☆тнє αєѕσρ ᴄαʀℓ zιηє☆

around half a year after i joined the zine community i drew cover art for the first time like holy crap??? i first knew of aesop carl because everyone keeps comparing kiyo to him before the idv x v3 crossover and as i start reading about him i got really intrigued, and even though i don't really play idv anymore he's still one of the characters that captured my interest and i'm really grateful for the opportunity to join and even create the cover for this (but i am also never drawing cover art along with i forgot how many page art pieces at the same time it was TORTURE)

this is also probably my favourite drawing ever to date? like holy crap who possessed while i drew this am i even able to draw like this ever again or is it only because i was doing cover art LOL

anyways go check out our zine with the link on my story highlight! (that i will post later) i also have a lot of reel material for this so ehehehehehe

oh and for some reason our team had a couple of technical difficulties? i originally did the shading for the minisops in a three hour lecture and i was about to finish but then my program crashed when i hit save :))) AND ALL MY PROGRESS WAS GONE SO I HAD TO DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN HAHAHA oh well at least it's done now, maybe it's the world trying to tell me i shouldn't draw in class but as an art student kindly shut up :D

💙if you are planning to repost my drawings/edits, etc either ask for permission in the comments/private message me, or mention my username in the caption AND tag me, or else i will ask you to remove the post for stealing thank you💙

[greenplumbboblover]

Happy almost new year!

Yesterday I posted that whole "Top 10 Tumblr posts" but while that was fun to see, I figured I'd go through things I felt was a great accomplishment of this year for me. And some new years resolutions ;)

Accomplishments of 2023:

I made a website!

I know it's tiny and that it's not really great (yet) for getting tons of views, but I do want to thank everyone (I actually typed out all the names but tumblr was being stupid and I couldn't post the post then :/) for either giving it a try or using it. Without you, it would've just been a floating idea with no purpose. :) Thank you so much for believing in it!

I created a new sims story!

Gone a bit back to my original Simblr roots and made a story! Chapter 1 had been in my screenshots folder for over 2 years now, but I was just self-conscious about sharing it. I'm glad I actually got to terms that the only way to know if people will like it, is by sharing it. :)

Came back to Tumblr fully again.

Over those 2 years I hadn't really been on Tumblr much. I'd post my mod posts and that was it. Truth be told, I didn't really have much motivation to do TS3 stuff anymore at that time. But I think in the end I forgot how fun it can be :) I know I suck at interacting with people, though my anxiety often gets the best of me, and I'm genuinely sorry about that! I'm hoping to change that next year with some help.

New Year's resolutions:

I know most people probably didn't get through the whole thing because I type a lot, but if you do, hey there :)

Making Simblr.cc feel more personalized

I feel like currently it feels very download-oriented, which I'd like to keep! But that vibe also seems to be around with the more picture - oriented things. So I just want to make part of that feel more Tumblr-ish where it's just your personalized space. :)

Starting to sell stickers (and such)!

I know, kind of clique thing that everyone seems to be doing now and then, but I have seriously been loving to draw a lot. Though, my creative outlet only seems motivated when I do something for someone/something. So I was hoping to not just sell stickers for SImblr.cc as a donation thing, but also to make some of my own. :)

Finishing LISISV

I never intended to make LISISV like those shows that have been around for 20 years and going on. :p I know most of you do, which I love! But I'm not sure if I will be able to, lol.

I was hoping to rewrite the entirety of "Elly" which I did YEARS ago as a wee 14 year old (till I think, like 16?) but that's all basically teenage cringe IMO :p The concept and the characters however I always adored. So who knows!

Figuring out what to do with Interests & Hobbies

I keep promising that I'll finish it "after this mod" and I honestly do open it up, work on it for a little bit but then I start working on a feature and it... just doesn't work with the mod? However, the more I do that, the more 'bland' the mod becomes. So I don't know what do with it anymore 😅 Anyone who knows please help!

Unless you are all okay with remnants of it, which I'm doing currently :)

Making this space mod I have been wanting to do for a while

Not many people know this about me but i'm a huge sci-fi nerd :p And I wondered how hard it would be to make this “colonizing the a planet” space mod in TS3. Though I know that most people probably wouldn't care about that, since TS3 is more about generational things and... not so much about those things. So, who knows.

I guess I just need to sit down with myself and get my shit together, honestly.

Attempting to actually talk to others.

I don't know how people do it... I honestly want to keep tap of everyone I follow but I get so exhausted, if not, my anxiety starts kicking in because "what if I say the wrong things?" It's not just a tumblr thing though, i've been like that since forever, and maybe should just reach out for help for it. I just don't know.

I just feel as of late that people put great effort into commenting on my things and I'm barely there for them. Yet, just know that I am there, that I do think of you, i'm just deleting my sentences over and over again and just giving up. I'm genuinely sorry about that.

Hopefully your year will be nice and may your wishes come true :

[sheisjoeschateau]

“You’re there. You were always there.”

A MULTI-PART FANFICTION SERIES, INSPIRED BY STRANGER THINGS, WRITTEN BY MISHA ST. JAMES.

Steve Harrington x fem!character. Childhood friends to lovers.

Slow burn. Angst. Romance. Smut with plot. Spin-off of pre-existing character.

A note from the writer:

—

Hello there darlings. What started off as a rough one-shot concept inspired by my rewatching Stranger Things season one for the billionth time evolved into my new favorite fan fiction series that I have written and created. This truly has become my baby. I said it in my original post when leaving a sneak preview of this work of mine…but I’ll say it again. This piece really has become my baby.

I overthink everything. I like to dive deep beneath the surface of things and overthink things into magnificent new realities. A seemingly random (almost forgettable) character in this show ended up making my mind spiral. As a writer, I believe that all characters in books and cinema have purpose. So naturally, my mind wanted to make something of a character that only appears at random yet crucial parts of the show’s story.

Nicole only appeared in season one and she was assumed to be a friend of Steve’s. To us, she was no one. Yet the Duffers introduced us to her as if she was an already established character in the series. Steve seemed almost too comfortable with her, like there was history between them. But we never explored that past the first season. That really started to bug me during this last binge-watch I had. So being the over dramatic writer that I am, I decided to make something of it myself. And damn, did it just…flow. I had no plans of making this such a big series but yeah, here we fucking are.

I gave her my last name because, well, *hair flip* I’m a narcissistic bitch like that when it comes to writing. ;) So in this series of mine, she is written Nicole St. James. I took some inspiration from The Breakfast Club because, ya know, Claire Standish? Molly Ringwald was an iconic redhead in the 80s film world, and that role in particular really seemed to fit how I wrote Nicole while fitting how she was presented in the show. I also did not want to give her a predictable personality either (because, again, as a writer I’m complex like that). So I did not take the typical “mean girl” route with her character because that honestly would just hit a wall. I wanted there to be a reason for her her in this show. I think the actress who played her did a good job with it, given there wasn’t much for her to work with.

I actually researched the actress a bit (Glenellen Anderson) and she’s actually very talented. She said something in one of her interviews about her role being small in ST but serving a crucial part in the first season of the series, given her being the reason that Steve finds out about Jonathan taking the pictures in his yard that night. Idk tbh I lowkey feel like a stalker who’s obsessing over an actor before they make it big so that one day I can be like YEAH I KNEW SHE WAS COOL WHEN SHE WAS STILL UNDERRATED. Lol ok moving on —

So I guess that’s it then. Time for me to shut up and just let the story I’ve created speak for itself. Thank you to some of my favorite writers on here and fellow Steve Harrington fanatics for inspiring me to release my own work into this universe. I’ve been very hesitant but I am glad to finally be doing it. I want to hear your thoughts and honest opinion while also asking kindly that you keep my emo heart in consideration when doing so 👉🏻👈🏻 If I forgot to tag you, I sincerely apologize. Please remind me in comments so that I can remember next time!

*disclaimer: this is based on pre-existing characters. in the show, nicole is portrayed by a redheaded white female actress so I based my writing around that. I do not discriminate against ANY race or preferred gender roles who choose to read and engage with my stories.

Enjoy and please leave feedback :)

x, MISHA

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK ON ANY PLATFORMS WITHOUT PROPERLY CREDITING ME AS THE WRITER. I DO NOT GRANT PERMISSION FOR YOU TO CLAIM MY WRITING AND WORK AS YOUR OWN. YES, THIS IS A FAN FICTION BASED ON A PRE-EXISTING SHOW. HOWEVER THERE IS BASIC COURTESY TO BE EXPECTED IN THE WRITING COMMUNITY SO PLEASE RESPECT THAT. 🖤

Warnings: This is very much an 18+ written fan fiction series. Please read at your own risk. There is language, eventual mentions of blood and violence, drinking, sex, etc. There is also going to be mention of homophobia because the 80s were full of misogynistic men and women who were so unforgivingly dense (like fucking Tommy H. and Carol Perkins), so I want to address that as we eventually introduce Robin and Will into the series so that we can have our outstanding LGBTQ darlings welcomed and given the representation that they deserve.

—————

VOLUME I

“You’re there. You were always there.”

——————

Steve Harrington is six years old when he meets you: the girl who carries the other half of him with her. 

He first spotted her playing outside alone, in the yard right across from his. She has a big treehouse, and no one but herself to share it with. And even though you seem content — he doesn’t know why, but it makes him sad. Watching you alone, in your own great big world, and no one begging to share it with you. 

So after a week, he walks across the street to do something about it. He had watched you climb the little red ladder up to the top, making round trips with your backpack and various items. 

The door to your treehouse is made of wood, painted pastel yellow with tiny butterfly stickers adorning it in random places. He hears you, talking to yourself the way you would talk if you had company. Maybe it’s to an imaginary friend. Or maybe, you just like to talk to yourself. Regardless, he knocks, and your gibberish ceases. Eventually, he hears your feet padding closer and closer.  The door creaked open, revealing your curious grey eyes. Your red hair framed your small, heart shaped face, and the cream knit sweater that you wore looked almost as warm as you were.

“Hi,” Steve said. “I’m Steve. I live in that house over there.”

He pointed to the big house that loomed just across the street from you, and you briefly peeked out to look at it before looking back at him. Your full pink lips pressed into a shy smile.

“I’m Nicole,” you told him. “I’m six.”

“Me, too,” Steve tells you, proudly and with a dashing smile. But then he furrows his brow. “Why are you having a tea party by yourself?”

You look back into your little safe haven, following his gaze that stares at the eclectic assortment of tea cups and teapots set for multiple people when it was just you. 

“Oh, well I just like to be ready,” you tell him. “In case I make any friends.” 

Suddenly, you beam at him. Your usually shy demeanor dissolves as the gleam in your eye shines through. 

“Do you wanna be my friend?” you ask Steve, who raises his eyebrows in response.

“Umm, yeah,” he finally responds, nodding his head. He stuffs one hand into the pockets of his little Levi jeans, fastened with a belt and all, already a charmer with his polo sweater. His other hand goes to push back some of his floppy chestnut hair. “Yeah, let’s be friends.”

You smile brightly.  “Okay.”

And so you are, just like that.  Friends.  As you pour Steve a cup of chocolate milk, which you both confidently call hot tea without remark, you quietly hum to yourself.

Steve watches you, thinking you’re really pretty.  Whenever you go to pass him a teacup, he takes it and quickly looks around, pretending he wasn’t just staring at you.  He was in awe, really.  Fairy lights were strewn about, with potted flowers in the windowsills.  There was a table with lots of crayons, markers and gel pens, unfinished drawings scattered underneath them.  A few completed drawings were hung up on the walls.  

“Doesn’t it get scary up here all by yourself?” he asks you, genuinely curious.

As you set the little teapot back down, you shrugged your shoulders and shook your head. “Mm-mm,” you tell him. “I’m safe up here.”

You raise your teacup to your little pout to sip.  You seemed so content all by yourself, as if the word ‘lonely’ was completely foreign to you.

Steve is six years old when he sees the reflection of his better self in you.

_______

Steve is 7 years old when he calls you his best friend.

You’re both playing at recess, roped into a game of duck-duck-goose. A little girl named Carol is sitting next to you, and Steve watches her roll her eyes and huff throughout most of the game. You’ve been smiling and laughing this whole time, except when she gets mad that you don’t pick her when you’re circling the group of kids and selecting someone to chase you.

“Nicoooole,” she whines. 

You look at her as if you’re terribly afraid of what you could have done wrong. Carol crosses her arms, pouting.

“You’re supposed to pick me,” she complains.

“Oh,” you said, eyes wide.  “I-I didn’t know you wanted me to.”

You shuffled your feet, your loafers twisting in the grass.  Your ponytail blew in the breeze, along with the little flyaway baby hairs, and you looked a little embarrassed – almost ashamed – as the kid you had picked goes to sit in the assigned mush pot, since she couldn’t catch you.

“Well I do,” Carol said, matter of fact. 

Steve grimaces. He hated seeing you so uncomfortable, and he really hated the way this girl was talking to you.

“Those aren’t the rules,” Steve argued, defending you. 

You looked at Steve, a little relief becoming evident in your timid eyes.

“It’s not not in the rules,” Carol snarks back. Alright, now Steve is just plain bothered. This girl is annoying. And shamelessly entitled. 

Carol looks back at you, glaring. “Pick me next time.”

You slowly sit back down next to her, sinking into the grass with a frown. You look so timid, sad even. Steve wanted to drag you across the circle to sit next to him, but he didn’t because you were suddenly standing again, stuttering a little “Oh,” realizing it was still your turn. 

You cautiously made your way around the kids, placing your hand on top of everyone’s heads while saying “duck.”  You started to sweetly grin as you approached Steve, who grinned back. You plopped your hand on top of his head, definitely messing up his hair, but he didn’t mind. It was you, and that was okay. Anyone else, no. 

You fearfully dubbed Carol duck as you passed her, and her jaw clenched. She kept her arms tightly folded, watching you like a hawk. Steve narrowed his eyes at the snarky girl, already hating her. You patted his head again, “duck,” and Steve watched you curiously. Surely, you weren’t gonna pick her. Then again, he was afraid of what would happen if you didn’t. 

But sure enough, you did pick Carol. 

Goose. 

Carol smirked so fast before bolting upright to chase you around the playground. 

Steve was wildly chanting your name, along with the others.

“Go, Nicole!” he shouted, rooting you on. The others echoed his cheers. Your red hair flipped in the wind, ponytail bouncing behind you as you dashed back towards him in your school dress and loafers. 

Carol looked so convinced that she was gonna take you down, but you were faster. She chased you with a devilish smile, which began to quickly dissolve once she saw you getting closer to homebase.

Suddenly, you plopped down beside Steve, out of breath. He and the others hurrayed, and you smiled as you panted.

But Carol scoffed, finally making it over to you all in the circle. She buckled over her knees, trying to catch her breath.

“Ha-ha, Carol,” some boy sneered jokingly. 

“Yeah Carol, mush pot time,” Steve chimed in, a little too happily.

She scoffed again, louder this time. “No way, that’s not fair.”

Steve twitched incredulously. “W’you mean it’s not fair? She beat you.”

Carol’s jaw clenched again, and she stared daggers in your direction as she put her hands on her hips with a sour attitude. Steve cringed at the sight of just how nasty she looked, hating that it was being directed towards you. You shrunk back in your seated position on the grass, looking afraid. As Carol stalked over to sit in the middle of everyone, she kept staring at you with a look that could kill. You looked to the ground, and Steve kept his place next to you with a newfound wave of protection washing over him.

“Fine, well,” Carol sneered.  “I’m not your friend anymore.”

Carol’s words were nothing but laughable. To any mature adult — hell, any human not in kindergarten — her remark would have meant nothing. But to you? A seven year old with a heart of gold, and the desire to just make everyone feel included? Her words were detrimental. They meant you were a horrible person. You were to blame.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t —“ you stumble, voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to, Carol, I-I…”

Carol whipped her head around to not face you. Your eyes were really sad now, and Steve’s heart sank.  You brought your knees to your chest, and your grey eyes went a little glassy.

“I can switch w-with you,” you kept trying. “I’ll sit—”

“Shut up,” she barked. “I said you’re not my friend.”

“Yeah, well she’s my best friend.”

Steve’s words landed hard. 

Carol whipped her head around again, now facing him. Everyone in the circle stared at the perfect-haired boy, including you. Sweet, innocent you. Your grey eyes peered over at him nervously. But there was a glint of hope in them, too, and if you weren’t so shaken up and close to crying you would have smiled. 

Steve shot one last disgusted look in Carol’s direction, then rose to his feet.  He reached out a hand, taking one of yours from your knees.

“C’mon,” he told you.  “Let’s go play somewhere else.”

You blinked, but didn’t hesitate to follow his lead.  You looked at him, giving him a small smile before looking downwards again.  Steve wrapped his fingers around your hand so tightly, and your little heart fluttered.  He was so warm, and you felt so safe.

Carol huffed, appalled.  “Since when are you best friends with ugly redheads, Harrington?!”

Your heart sank even lower as you saw Steve’s eyes go fierce, his jaw clenched.  He whipped around to look at Carol.

“The only ugly redhead here is you,” he shot back at her, and her jaw dropped.  All the kids reacted, some laughing and some making amused remarks.  But Steve didn’t pay them any mind as he stalked off with you, hand in hand.

You kept up with him as best you could with your little legs, feeling his grip on your hand tighten.  He looked so mad, and you gulped.

“Steve?” you asked, voice quiet.

“Don’t listen to them,” he mumbled, shaking his head.  He was staring straight ahead, mind racing.  You could tell he was really upset, and it made you feel bad.  “Or her.  She’s a bitch.”

You gasped, eyes wide.  “Steve!”

“What?  She is.”

You were shocked to hear him curse.  A few moments passed as you kept walking beside him, completely taken aback.  But then, you felt a grin tucking your lips upwards.  You stifled a giggle, and Steve turned to look at you in surprise.  You glanced up at him shyly, really giggling now.  His hard expression turned soft, a smile of his own creeping on his lips.  Eventually, he laughed too.

The two of you made it over to the swingset, and Steve let go of your hand.  You already missed his touch, the warmth of it.  He walked to stand in front of the tire swing, nodding his head at you to join.  You walked in front of the tire, reaching up to grip the chains from which it hung.  Steve crossed over to stand behind you.

“Here,” he said, placing his hands on your small hips.  You felt yourself flush, heart fluttering again.  A whole flock of butterflies swarmed your stomach.  Steve was happy you couldn’t see his face, because he felt himself flush too.  He wasn’t sure why a surge of electricity shot through him as he lifted you up into the tire swing, but as you swung your legs into its open middle he could smell your lavender shampoo.  It made him melt, and his hands lingered just a little longer than needed on the hips of your jeans.  You were safely seated now – had been for a moment.  Maybe two or three moments.  

Steve cleared his throat, rounding the wheel to climb onto it and sit across from you.  He tossed his feet into the hole, hands wrapped around the chains.  You looked at him with that signature warm, slightly shy smile of yours, and he returned it.  His smile was definitely more confident, though.  Charming, even for a first grader.

Your feet dangled in the air, so Steve used his to touch the ground and help you both begin to swing.  For a little while, you both just listened to the breeze.  The leaves were beginning to turn brown, a sign that autumn was approaching.  Kids laughed in the distance, buzzing with energy.  You figured you both only had a little time left, before you would have to return to classes.  But spending the last bit of playtime alone together was more fun than with the bratty kids you’d been spending time with earlier.

“Am I ugly?”

Steve had been watching a butterfly swarming nearby when you spoke.  He almost hadn’t heard you, with the way you spoke so quietly.  You sounded so small, fragile.  You were staring at the ground, your loafers criss-crossed as the two of you swayed on the swing, looking so vulnerable.  It made his heart split in two, the fire inside him burning again.  

“No,” he said, a little too harshly.  Your eyes shot up at him, a little surprised at his tone.  But he continued with no filter, cause what 7-year-old boy has one of those?  “Carol’s a liar.  You’re not ugly.  At all.  You’re beautiful.  Way more than her.”

Your eyes shone, and Steve watched your cheeks go rosy pink.  A small but real smile found its way onto your little lips, and you looked at him so sweetly before you glanced back down at the ground.  You kicked at the air, thinking to yourself.  While you weren’t looking, Steve memorized each eyelash concealing your grey eyes and the curve of your eyebrows.  He noticed that you only had a small sprinkle of freckles on your nose, but nowhere else on your porcelain skin.  He felt his heart skip a beat, losing himself in you.  God, you were perfect.  How could anyone ever call you ugly?  

“Wanna come over for dinner?” Steve asked.

You looked up at him, snapped out of your own thoughts.  “Yeah.  I’ll have to ask my mom and dad if that’s okay.”

“I think my mom is ordering pizza,” Steve continued, mouth watering.  “Do you like pizza?”

“Yeah, but I like mushroom pizza.”

Steve scrunched his nose.  “Eww, why?”

You giggled, shrugging.  “They’re really good!”

“Bleck.”

“You should try them,” you insisted.  

Steve would normally say something along the lines of hell no, but to you?  That was impossible.  He pursed his lips, nose still scrunched and shivering at the thought of eating fungus on pizza.  But he relented, sighing.

“Alright, I guess,” he said, kicking to swing you both again.  “But if I don’t like it, you have to help me with the dishes.”

You smirked.  “Deal.”

You both swayed, listening to the trees rustle.  Steve watched the teacher approaching everyone from her perch, knowing she was about to whistle for everyone to make their way back for school.

“Hey Steve?”

He turned back to look at you.  ‘Hmm?”

You paused, contemplating your words.  But then you gave him the kindest smile in the world, and it rendered Steve speechless as you spoke with more certainty than you had all day.

“You’re my best friend, too.”

__________

As the next few years went by, you and Steve continued to become a permanent part of them for each other.  

Your parents had easily become friends with his parents, making it a regular thing to have each other over for holiday parties and gatherings, or even just casual dinners.  Both your parents and his were too wealthy for their own good, too caught up in their own worlds to really pay either of you any mind.  Sure, they knew that the two of you were friends.  Close even.  But they didn’t really know much beyond that.  Steve’s parents were just glad to know that their kid had something to do other than bother them every day after school and on weekends, and your parents were so used to you playing by yourself that they didn’t really notice much difference.  Your families both lived in a swanky neighborhood, so becoming acquainted with one another hadn’t been something that required much consideration on their part.  They ran in the same circles.  Timeshare mutuals, and plastic veneer smiles who shared travel itineraries for whatever bougie seminar was happening that month, or the next.

Until you came along, Steve had been a lonely kid destined for a life of abandonment.  Once Chet Harrington had been given a son by Paula, he stopped the bloodline there.  “Good,” he’d remarked.  “Someone to carry on the family name.”  As far as he was concerned, that’s all his kid’s purpose served.  Take over the family business, get a trophy wife and repeat the cycle.  Siblings?  Why bother?  One kid was enough to handle.  They cost money and time, and the Harringtons didn’t just hand those out like charity.  If it weren’t so heavily frowned upon, or a threat to their reputation, they wouldn’t have even bothered with hiring a babysitter.  It was mainly Paula Harrington who insisted on it.  After all, she did love her son.  She just wasn’t a nurturing mother, giving her care to her pearls and pristine walk-in closet maintenance far more than her little boy, so her love was never felt by her son.  As far as Chet was concerned, once Steve turned 10 years old, a babysitter was no longer a needed expense.  Because that’s all it was to him: an expense.  So come the double digits, and Steve would just be a kid left to fend for himself, all alone in his great big house with no parents.

But so were you.  You, Nicole St. James, were just as doomed as he was.  Your parents were more aloof than anything.  They weren’t quite as cold as the Harrington’s.  But they weren’t all that warm either.  Ken had impregnated his wife, Alison, on a spontaneous trip overseas.  You’d been the result of a heavy night of gin, blue curacao and dirty talk.  Filthy sex and silky sheets in a Five Seasons were the blissful combination the night that you were conceived.  It had been a surprise for both of them, when that little strip read positive with a pink stripe.  They’d made a fuss of it, planning a frivolous baby shower with tons of guests and a plethora of gifts for their baby girl on the way.  They had found out the gender as soon as they could, not wanting any more surprises.  Your arrival had been a very anticipated event, so when you had been actually brought into the world the excitement fizzled away.  It seemed more exciting to celebrate having you, rather than actually having you.  Granted, your parents loved you.  You were spoiled with toys, new clothes every week, and social outings.  Not that you ever asked for any of those things.  The only thing you ever sought out from them were hugs, which they half-heartedly returned with barely a fraction of the love that radiated through your tiny arms.  

You had your mother’s hair, though hers was more auburn while yours was pure fire.  And you had your father’s grey eyes.  But what you had that they didn’t, was your spirit.  They were boisterous, loud and shallow.  You were quiet, shy and soft.  You radiated only genuine kindness, oftentimes just observing your surroundings and being in your own little world.  Your parents were party animals, constantly busying themselves with events and planning vacations.  It’s why they busied you with the same types of things by default, assuming you to be just like them.  Constantly wanting company, people to distract you and noise to drown out the silence.  But you weren’t like them.  You loved the silence, the chirping of the birds and the whoosh of the breeze.  You loved books instead of toys, and gardening tools instead of dolls.  Not that they paid attention to that, though.  Instead, they just bought you whatever the flashiest new item was.  Or, if you just so happened to take a liking to something, the St. James’ bought it to appease you quickly and not bat an eye.  Screw sentimentality, if it made you happy then by all means you could have it.

The only reason they had a treehouse built for you, was because Ken St. James had discovered his daughter’s makeshift fort outside.  It consisted of amateruly constructed cardboard boxes, with random blankets propped up on sticks.  He and Alison had just gotten home from a business trip, and your aunt had shrugged her shoulders when they asked how her stay had been.  She told them you had spent the whole time outside, playing in your disastrously built utopia.  Your parents didn’t give much thought to it, hiring a few carpenters to come and build you a proper treehouse for your sixth birthday.  You had beamed, telling them thank you a thousand and one times.  They’d thought it was cute, at first.  Until one night, as they got ready for a gala, you had gone to hug your mother as she coated her lips with a red rouge.  She’d yelped, surprised at your sudden touch.   

“I love you, mommy,” you whispered to her.  

“Nicole, darling, what are you–” she stammered, one hand holding her lipstick and the other swatting at you.

“For my treehouse,” you continued.  “I love it.”

“Oh, psh, honey,” she scoffed wryly, slowly peeling your little arms off of her shoulders.  “Enough now, you’ve thanked us too many times to count.  It’s a little exhausting.”

She had chuckled humorlessly, resuming her pampering.  You had watched her reflection, and if she’d cared to look at yours instead of her own she would have seen the look of longing and saddened wonder that filled your eyes.  She would have seen the way your full lips parted, no more words being spoken.  And she would have seen you quietly pad your way back out her bedroom door, where you made your way back to your room.  

Instead of finding love through your parents, you found it in your treehouse.  You found it in the swaying of the trees, and the butterflies that swarmed your front yard.  You found it in yellow crayons, and glitter gel pens, and the weeds you insisted were flowers as you pulled them and placed them into little pots.  You found love in the changing of seasons, and the twinkle lights that glowed at night in your safe haven.  You found love within yourself, and you found love in Steve Harrington.

The bike rides down the neighborhood streets, and down to the convenient store to buy snacks with your little weekly allowances.  The swapping of ice cream cones on hot summer days — when Steve noticed the way you eyed his chocolate waffle cone, as he secretly wanted your strawberry sugar cone instead.  The afternoons into nights spent in your treehouse together, playing make believe and coloring.  The fairy wands and pirate swords, and the battle of neverland that you fought side by side in your tulle dress while Steve wore a green polo and birthday hat with a red feather crudely taped to the side of it.  The field trips and summer camps with your classmates, always sitting beside each other on the bus and whenever you all had to eat in between activities.  Lord knows, if you two were sat apart, one of you would complain until it was made right.  The innocent secrets you told each other, and the way you both laughed at the silliest of things until your sides split.  The countless hours that you spent at his house, no parents or nanny in sight, playing hide and seek.  One time, it took him so long to find you that he panicked.  He was pretty sure you had actually disappeared for good, and his breathing quickened.  It took him calling out your name several times, until eventually it sounded like he was blubbering.  You had made your way out of his closet, where you’d proudly buried yourself underneath all of his clothes.  Steve saw you crawling out with a worried look on your little face, saying his name in such an assuring tone.  He had run over to you and hugged you tight, sniffling.  But when he pulled back, he’d already roughly rubbed his eyes so that no tears spilled.  The two of you resumed playing like nothing had happened.  

Most days were spent in your treehouse, except when a thunderstorm was coming.  That’s when the two of you would throw a bunch of blankets and pillows together in his or your room, making a fort.  A shelter, if you will.  The thunder rolled as the lightning streaked across the sky.  One night, you had both curled up with a big bowl of popcorn, boxes of cereal, pop tarts, sodas and candy, no trace of actual substance in sight.  You had flashlights and cards, playing Go Fish and War.  At some point, Steve had asked if you believed in ghosts.  You shuddered, nodding your head yes.  His eyes had gone wide, clutching the blanket tighter around his shoulders.  You pulled the pillow in your arms closer to your chest, your grey eyes just as wide as his.

“Do you think…” Steve had started, his voice soft.  He gulped, a thought crossing his mind.  “D’you think we’ll ever have to fight monsters?  You know, like aliens or something?”

You gulped, too.  “I dunno,” you started, voice soft like his.  “I think that monsters in books and movies are really scary.  I don’t wanna fight them in real life.”

Steve nodded, thinking.  “Well, if we ever do… I’ll protect you.  Promise.”

You hugged your pillow tighter, your worried eyes shining and a shy smile meeting your lips.  “You will?”

“Yeah,” Steve assured you, with absolute certainty.  Because he meant it with all of his heart.  No monster would ever hurt you.  No ghost would haunt you.  And nothing would ever take you away.  “I always will.”

CRACK.  That’s when lightning struck the electricity box, and all the power in Steve’s house went out.  You screamed, and Steve gasped.  He grabbed one of the flashlights, shuffling his way over to you.  He wrapped the blanket around both of you, as the two of you huddled closer together underneath the pillow fort you both built together.

“S’okay, I’m right here,” he soothed you, feeling you shiver against him.  Your little arms were wound around his torso, your grip fierce.  He clung to him with so much trust, melting into him, even though you were scared.  He melted right back into you, holding you close.  “I got you.”

The winds howled outside, thunder still rolling and lightning flashing around you both in the quiet, still room outside of the walls of blankets enveloping you both.  

“Do you think there’s a monster out there?” you asked him, your frightened voice the cutest whisper in the world.

“Nah,” Steve said, but even he wasn’t so sure.  He couldn’t be scared, though.  He had to make you feel safe.  “But if there is, it won’t get you.  I won’t let it.”  He rested his chin on top of your head.  “Not ever.”

Even at nine years old, Steve knew he would never break a promise that he made you.  You did, too.

And right now, as you turned ten years old, you were surrounded by a bunch of faces.  Most of them, you didn’t really know.  Some were kids from school, and others were their parents.  Lots of random adults, buzzed with champagne and spirits.  But as you sat in a chair behind your pink birthday cake, all aglow with ten gold candles, there was one face you recognized and loved.  Steve’s.

He grinned at you, his smile growing more charming each day.  His hair was still iconic, always styled just right.  He wore a preppy polo with a collar, and khaki slacks with nice shoes.  His brown doe eyes shone in the candlelight – and even though the others spoke loudly over each other, he spoke so that only you could hear him.

“Make a wish, Nic,” he said, seated right next to you.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY GIRL!” your mom squealed, the inebriation evident in her voice.

“Wait, honey, wait,” your father chuckled, gripping his whisky.  “We gotta sing first.”

“Damn,” Mr. Harrington remarked, also laughing.  “These women just don’t have any patience, do they?”

The two men snickered, and Mrs. Harrington playfully scoffed and swatted at them before wrapping an arm around your mother.  She, too, was a bit tipsy.  

“Alright,” she purred, a smirk on her lips as she raised her glass.  “All together now.”

And so the song began.  Happy Birthday rang all throughout the house, echoing off the dining room walls of your childhood home.  Kids sang with enthusiasm, while adults sang in a million different pitches.  Some voices were happy, others were bored, and a few were drunk.  But the only voice you listened to was your best friend’s, who sat by your side with one arm resting on the table and the other perched on the back of your chair.  You beamed at him, and he beamed at you.

Steve swore in that very moment, that you were perfect.  The way your little baby hairs still escaped your hair that was pulled into a little half-up do.  You were wearing the simplest, most feminine pastel yellow dress.  The sleeves had tiny ruffles on it, your shoulders peeking out and arms bare.  Your face was clean of any makeup, aside from the white face painted butterfly wings around your grey eyes.  It was so whimsical, making you look even more like a princess than you already were.  Steve watched you look around the room, enchanted by your enchantment.  And as your gaze circled back to meet his own, he smiled bigger.  Your smile grew, too, and the crowd of people in the room ceased to exist.  You’d both forgotten them, until they started to cheer wildly as your birthday song ended.

“Nicky!” your mother squealed.  

God, you hated when she called you that.  You broke your gaze from Steve, looking at her.

“Come on, baby, make a wish!”

You looked back down at your candles, scrunching your eyes shut and thinking.  Steve’s eyes never left you, entranced with the way you looked in the orange glow of the birthday candles.  Selfishly, he made a wish too.  It wasn't his birthday, but it didn’t have to be.  Steve wished for all your wishes and dreams to come true.  He wished for this to be the best year yet, for you and for him.  He wished for you to never move away, to always be his best friend across the road.  He wished for you to never outgrow him, or want to be better friends with somebody else.  He wished it would always be like this, that no matter what changes came he would always have you.  He wished that he knew what you were wishing for, and he wished for you to be wishing for him.

Little did he know, he was your only wish.  It was already true, and as you blew out the candles, you wished for it to always be true.

________________

Steve was twelve when you saw him cry for the first time.

His parents had gotten his report card, appalled at the C and D despite all other A’s.  Paula Harrington was disappointed and embarrassed, but Chet Harrington?  Well, he was furious.  

“I didn’t raise someone stupid,” he spat at Steve, who leaned against the kitchen counter with his head down, shoulders slumped and arms crossed.  They had been arguing over this for at least thirty minutes.

Steve swallowed.  “I’m not stupid, dad,” he murmered, voice defeated.

“Sorry, what was that?” his father egged him on, voice bitter.  There was zero trace of kindness or understanding, and Steve’s mother could only watch them from the dining table with a pathetic pout.

Chet stepped closer to his son, sneering.  “Speak up, son.  Couldn’t hear you.”

“...said I’m not stupid,” Steve tried again, hating the way his voice still shook despite talking a little louder.

“Stop being a little bitch and look at me,” his dad spat, the air escaping his lips and onto Steve’s face.

“Chet, please –” his mother tried, pathetically. 

Steve felt the hurt inside of him bubbling into anger, unable to control himself.  

“I said I’m not stupid!”  He shouted back, having taken enough of his father’s bullying for the past thirty minutes.  The past month.  Several months.  Years.

But he was only rewarded with a slap to the face, so sharp it felt like a knife.  If it weren’t for the ringing in his ears, he would have heard his mother gasp.  The impact had made him turn a full 180 degrees, and he was stunned into silence as tears sprang to his eyes from the harsh blow.  Slowly, he turned back towards them.  He first made eye contact with his mother, whose hands were clasped over her mouth.  Eventually, he made eye contact with his father, who seethed and showed no sign of remorse.

“Your report card says otherwise,” he slithered.  He slowly backed up towards the kitchen table, taking his seat again.  He took a sip of his brandy, clicking his tongue at the taste.  “Raise your voice at me again, and you’ll see stars next time.”

Steve could hear his own breathing, could feel the anguish that spread throughout his mind, body and soul.  His heart ached, and he longed for comfort.  But the two people who sat in front of him wouldn’t offer him that.  Nobody would.

Except you.

So he bolted his stairs, seeking privacy so that the unshed tears threatening to spill over wouldn’t show his weakness any further.  He held them at bay, biting his lip so hard he was pretty sure it would bleed soon.  He ran into his room, throwing open his drawers as he breathed hard.  Adrenaline coursed through his veins, his only thoughts consisting of getting a change of clothes and heading over to you.  He threw a backpack over his shoulder, locking his bedroom door and sneaking out his window.

He knew the route all too well by now, having done it since he was six.  He crawled down the side of the house, walking towards the house next to his and the one after that.  Then, he made his way across the street, where he walked behind one house, then two, and then made it to yours.  This way, his parents wouldn’t see him heading to your house out their window.  

Once he was there, he climbed up the side of your home where your window was dimly lit by the glow of your bedside lamp.  Good, he thought.  You were home.  His heavy heart swelled with relief, and he mounted the side of the house and up onto the roof the way he always did when sneaking into your room at night.

Your window was cracked open, always ready for him.  The curtains were drawn, and he saw you sitting on your bed, reading a book.  Your brows were closely knitted together, your eyes intensely focused on whatever you were reading.  One leg was crossed over the other, glasses perched on your nose and hair tucked back into a messy topknot.  

Steve swallowed back the large lump in his throat and tapped the windowpane, just enough for you to hear him.  Your head snapped up, pulled out of your bookworm trance.  Grey eyes met brown, and you went to smile until you saw the distress in his features.  You set your book down and removed your glasses, padding over to him, quietly but quickly.  A large t-shirt hung to your thighs, landing just above your knees and accentuating your slim legs.  You pulled the window all the way open, looking at him with the most concerned expression.

“Steve?” you asked, voice gentle.

The dam broke.  Steve couldn’t hold it in any longer, any plans of trying to do so completely demolished as a choked sob left his lips.  His shoulders heaved forward, and you felt your heart break at the sight.  This was new.  This was very new.  You’d never seen him like this.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him tightly.  He gripped you back like a lifeline, crying into your shoulder.  You stayed there for a moment, before pulling back to bring him inside.  He clung to you, not wanting to let go, but when he realized that he was still in the window frame he allowed you to move away from him and followed you inside to stand behind you.  You quickly closed the window, turning to face him again.  

He was a good several inches taller than you, so you looked up at him.  Your expression was so soft, so full of empathy it only made him break down more.  You wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek to his chest.  He buried his face into your shoulder again, weeping until the sleeve of your shirt was soaked through.  He shook in your embrace, the sound of his cries the saddest sound you had ever heard.  You stroked the nape of his neck, fingers playing with his hair.  His arms around you were so tightly wound, you thought he might never let go.  And you didn’t want him to, so neither of you made a move to do so.  You just stood there, holding one another, letting Steve cry until he couldn’t any more.

After a while, you slowly pulled back to look up at him.  Steve’s brown eyes were bloodshot, his stylish hair ruffled and messy – yet somehow, still perfect.  Even when he was sad, he was still so pretty.  

He rubbed at his snot sodden nose with his elbow, fruitlessly trying to wipe it away.  He sniffed roughly, not used to being the one who needed comforting.  But as you reached up to thumb away a few of his tears, he didn’t pull away.  Anyone else, he wouldn’t have let seen him like this, let alone touch him.  But you were the exception to every rule, and he wouldn’t dare pull away from you.  Not when you were so understanding, not casting any judgment towards him.  Any walls he had built around himself in front of others, he let come down in front of you.  Because when he was with you, he didn’t have to be strong, or brave, or cool.  He could just be Steve, a boy with big hair and an even bigger heart.

You smiled at him gently, waiting for him to speak.  He sighed.

“My dad said I was stupid,” he started, voice shaky.  “He said I – he said…”

Your small smile faded, your eyes boring into his.  He looked shown, shuddering a breath.  You took his hands in yours, guiding him to the bed.  You both sat down, your hands still intertwined.  You sat facing him, your legs crossed in Indian-style.  He mirrored you, matching your position and staring down at your dainty fingers in his.  You wore a few rings, minimal sterling silver bands.  Steve always loved how they made your piano fingers look even longer, delicate.  He twiddled in thumbs around yours, absentmindedly tracing shapes as he spoke.

“They saw my report card,” he continued, sniffling.  “I got a C in math.  And a D, i-in science.”

You furrowed your brows, still listening.  You wanted to say so much already, but you will yourself to stay quiet and let him finish.  He needed to let it out.

“It didn’t matter about the other grades.  Dad, h-he just cared about the bad ones.  Like no matter what, I’m j-just a failure.”

You shook your head, not having any of it.  “Steve,” you started, voice firm but kind.  “You’re not stupid.  And you’re not a failure.  You’re smart, and you study just as hard as anyone else does.”

He sniffled again, eyes still downcast.  “Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled.  “S’not enough.”

“You’re enough.”

That made him look up at you, his sad glassy eyes meeting your fierce ones.  The love that poured from your grey irises shot straight into his brown ones, and he knew you were being as honest as they come.

“He hit me, Nic,” he murmured, tasting bile as he admitted it. 

You felt a wave of emotions hit you all at once.  Anger.  Heartbreak.  Anguish.  Rage.  Pain.  And love.  So, so much love for this beautiful boy, who you got to call your best friend.  The thought of his dad hitting him – anyone hitting him – made you see red.  He didn’t deserve this.  Any of this.  And as you noted a slightly red mark on his cheek, you felt your soul split open.  Tears of your own sprang to your eyes, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching a hand up to cup his cheek.

“Steve, I’m so sorry,” you whispered.  

His face crumpled, and you pulled him in close as he started to cry again.  You silently cried too, grateful that he couldn’t see you.  He kept one hand in yours still, resting on your laps.  The other wound around your waist, the hand you had placed on his cheek now draped around his neck.  You lightly swayed, allowing the silence and Steve’s breathy cries to wash over you both.  

Eventually, Steve’s tense shoulders sagged and his cries subdued.  He relaxed into you, and you could tell that sleep was finding him.

“Hey,” you murmured into his neck.  “Let’s get some sleep.”

Steve slowly pulled back, watching you pull the covers down.  Normally, it would be weird.  A boy, watching his female friend offer to sleep in the same bed without their parents knowing.  But you’d both fallen asleep together so many times over the years.  In your treehouse, on his bedroom floor, on the couch while watching a movie.  Even in the same bed, when studying or doing homework. Now was no different, as far as you both were concerned.

So as you nestled yourself underneath the covers, gesturing for him to follow, Steve didn’t hesitate to crawl in next to you.  He pulled the covers over the two of you as you turned out your light, only the moonlight illuminating your face in the dark room.  You both laid on your sides, facing each other.  You placed a hand on the mattress, in the small space between you both, palm up. He placed his hand on top of yours, wrapping his fingers around yours.  He sighed deeply, eyes fluttering shut.

“You can stay here anytime you want,” you whispered beside him, your eyelids drooping but still watching him.  

Steve squeezed your hand tightly.  He felt an overwhelming sense of relief, his heart swelling with love for you.  He peeled his eyes back open, taking in your beautiful face.  If there was an angel watching over him, it had to be you.  God couldn’t have possibly given him a better one, because you were it.

“I don’t wanna go back,” he whispered back, timid.  “Unless you’re there.”

You sighed, nuzzling into your pillow with a little nod.  “Okay, then you won’t.”

Both your voices were tired, but the words you shared with one another held so much truth and conviction. Because you meant what you had said. Steve never had to spend a single night alone in his great big house, whether or not his parents were there.  You stayed there, or he’d stay with you.  It became an unspoken routine, refuge.

No matter what pain life threw his way, or yours, you both knew that so long as you had each other, it would be okay.

____________

But one morning, several months later, Steve’s mom found you in his bed.  

The two of you were sound asleep, her son starfished across the mattress and you curled up into a little ball.  At first, Mrs. Harrington just froze.  How long had this been happening?  That’s the question that sprang her into action.  Her motherly instincts decided to actually make an appearance, storming over to the bed to jostle you awake.  

“Nicole St. James, what in blazes are you doing here?!”

Your eyes shot open, finding Mrs. Harrington’s frantic eyes.  She had a firm grip on your arm, and you shrunk deeper into the mattress.  

“Steven,” she said through gritted teeth.  “Wake up.”

Steve stirred, not really waking up.  Such a boy.  A tornado can’t wake boys when they’re not even thirteen yet.

You, on the other hand, were wide awake.  Groggy, but alert.  You felt your cheeks flush crimson, knowing this looked bad.  Sure, at twelve years old you’re not fully aware of just how bad this actually looked.  But a boy and a girl, sharing a bed, behind their parents’ backs?  That had trouble written all over it.  As far as any adult was concerned, that screamed bad news.  And nine times out of ten, it was often a result of youthful scandal.  

But for you and Steve?  It was simply comfort.  Safety.  Codependency.

That’s not how his mother saw it, though.

“Steven!”

He bolted awake, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes.  When he looked over to find you staring at him, your grey eyes terrified and lean arm in his mother’s manicured grip, he began to come to.  The reality set in, and Steve felt his chest clench.  You both had been caught.

His mother’s eyes held a fire that he had never seen before.  Even in all her beauty – loosely curled blonde hair, wispy bangs and silky white blouse to match her high waist trousers – she looked intimidating.  Steve realized at that moment, he had never truly felt intimidated by his mother until right now.  She looked absolutely furious, appalled even.  Her lips were pursed together into a tight, thin line, and by the looks of her clenched jaw he could tell she had gritted her teeth.

Steve swallowed, feeling the panic seep in.  “Wait, mom –”

“Not a word,” she cut him off.  “I didn’t raise you like this.”

You didn’t raise him at all, you thought to yourself.  If it weren’t for the fear you held, you would have had to really fight to stay quiet.  But as Mrs. Harrington kept going, you couldn’t have found your own voice if you tried.

“Bringing girls up to your room to sleep with them?  What filthy movies have you been watching?  Did you… Oh my god, did you find one of your father’s?!”

Steve’s eyes went wide with horror.  “What?!  No!  Mom, please –”

“I don’t know what vile things you’ve had put in your head, Steven.  By your friends, your father, porn or whatever the hell you kids are doing these days.  But this.  Ends.  Now.”

Your terror-stricken eyes expression became all the more terrified, and as Steve’s mother wrenched you off the bed you let out the most heartbreaking little yelp.  Steve felt his heart jump into his throat.

“MOM, PLEASE, DON’T –”

“And you,” she turned to face you, dragging you beside her out of his bedroom.  “You’re a young lady.  You should know better.”

You felt absolutely sick to your stomach.  Hearing Steve’s mom accuse you of being capable of doing something so grimey – of being a slut – made you feel so small.  And Steve’s panicked shouts weren’t helping.

“But I–I,” you stuttered, your voice so shaky and low it was almost inaudible.  How could she think you and Steve would do such a thing together?  It wasn’t like that.  He was your best friend.  Your safe haven.  Your favorite person in existence.

Mrs. Harrington slammed Steve’s bedroom door shut, trapping his shouts.  She was dragging you down the stairs as you heard him fling the door back open and barrel after you.  She whipped around, waving a finger up at him.

“You stay right there,” she ordered him, voice fierce and booming.  Then, as she kept going, she told you, “I’m taking you straight home to talk to your parents.  This friendship is over.”

The way that Steve wailed ‘no,’ had to have been the most excruciatingly painful sound you had ever heard.  Tears sprang to your own eyes, and you didn’t even try to conceal the whimpers that fell from your lips.  Mrs. Harrington couldn’t have cared less, ripping her car keys off the wall next to the front door.

“Mom, wait, just wait!” Steve’s voice was strained, but desperate.  

You tried to look back at him, only catching glimpses as you were being hauled away by his mother.  You could see the petrified anguish etching Steve’s features, his tired eyes practically popping out of their sockets.  His hair in complete disarray, his sweatpants hung low and his t-shirt all twisted.  He was the most beautiful mess, and you were being taken away from him.

“Not another step, Steven Harrington!” his mother barked, voice shrill.  

Steve came to an abrupt halt on the sidewalk, and even though he was a good distance away now you could see his shoulders shaking and bottom lip trembling.  Your heart thudded in your chest, and you felt like throwing up.  

Paula Harrington was now standing next to her car, opening the passenger side door.  No way in hell was she going to march you over to your house, directly across the street, just so that all of your neighbors could watch and stare from inside their respective homes.  She ushered you in quickly, giving you no choice but to obey.  You crawled into the front seat, pulling your knees to your chest, crying into them.  You felt so ashamed and embarrassed – and for what?  Falling asleep next to your best friend?  Yeah, that’s exactly what you had done that caused this twisted guilt to stir up inside you.  

“I’m taking you straight home,” she told you, cold and fierce.  “And you’re not to step foot over here again.  Do you understand?”

You bit into your knees, clenching your eyes shut in shame.    Mrs. Harrington slammed the door shut, making you jump.  The sound, along with her words, rang in your ears.

This friendship is over.

Your mind was reeling, stomach churning.  You clutched your legs, tugging them impossibly closer to your chest and you rocked in the front seat of Paula’s car.  You looked out the window, watching Steve run towards you.  His mom held out a hand, and you could hear their entire conversation through the thin glass window as you sniffled.

“Mom, nothing happened,” Steven insisted, voice broken.

“You expect me to believe that?!” Mrs. Harrington shot back at him with zero sympathy.  “How many times has this happened, Steven?”

Steve raked his fingers through his chestnut hair, distressed and breathing hard.  “You don’t understand, we just fell asleep –”

“How many?”

“Whenever I can’t sleep!” Steve screamed at her, and his mother visibly pulled back.  “Because y-you –”  Steve gasped for air.  “D-dad, it’s just –”  Steve pressed his lips together, words failing him, so painfully frustrated with himself and this entire situation.  “God, it’s nothing, Mom.  Nic comes over here, and s-sometimes I go there –”

“You sleep at her house?” his mother interrupted, shocked.

“It doesn’t matter!” Steve cries.  His mother is now frozen, taken aback by the hysteria in his voice.  As her son stares back at her, tears threatening to spill over and lips parted, she finally shakes her head.

“You’re almost thirteen years old, Steven,” she says, voice low and bitter.  “You’re too damn old to be having little sleepovers with girls.  You know how this looks.  I know what you were doing.”

“No, you don’t,” Steve shook his head, violently.

“Yes.  I do.”

“NO, YOU DON’T.”  Steve wailed, completely falling apart.  “You don’t know anything.  And I don't care that you don’t, because Nicole knows and that’s all I care about.”

His mother gawked at him, and Nicole could tell that his words stung her a bit.  Still, Paula stood her ground.

“Well whatever you two are doing, it’s over,” she said, coolly.  

Steve’s face crumpled.  “No, please –”

“You’ve got plenty of guys you can hang out with, Steven,” Mrs. Harrington said, tongue sharp.  “They can sleep over whenever you want.  Go call them.”

Steve flung his arms up in the air, running his hands through his hair again as he whirled around in a full 360 before facing her again.

“I don’t care about them –”

“Start caring,” she said simply, turning to walk towards the car again.  She was approaching the driver’s side to open her door.

“Mom, no, NO!”  Steve lurched forward, trying to grab her car keys.  His mother jumped back, reacting just in time.  Her reflexes served her justice as she whipped the keys out of his reach.  

“What is the matter with you?!”  Paula looked absolutely stunned now.  

But Steve wouldn't listen, still trying to wrench the keys from her hands.  They rustled, arms and limbs tangled as they both struggled to overpower the other.  Paula stuttered verbal protests, while Steve whimpered and grunted.  You couldn’t help but feel your heart swell, despite how utterly broken you felt.  Because Steve wasn’t letting you slip away that easily – and while you were too timid to speak up for yourself, he wasn’t.  He was always the brave one.  At school.  Whenever you fell off your bike, or slipped on the playground.  Nobody could pick on you, so long as Steve was there.  Not even his parents could, apparently.  

Eventually, Mrs. Harrington got the upper hand.  No doubt due to the fact that Steve wouldn’t actually be physically aggressive towards his own mother.  She tugged hard, causing Steve to lose his footing and stumble back onto the ground.  He collapsed, landing on his side and barely catching himself.  Paula gasped, watching him make a harsh impact with the concrete sidewalk.

“Steve, baby –” she breathed, noting the bad scrape on his arm.

Steve began to convulse with ugly sobs, curling in on himself.  He gritted his teeth, lips stretched thin.  Mrs. Harrington stared in horror for only a moment before kneeling beside him to assess the damage.  She might not have been a warm person, but she wasn’t a violent one either.  That was all his father.  She didn’t believe in putting a hand on her kid.  She just didn’t do anything to stop it when Mr. Harrington did.

“Give me your arm,” she said, her voice shaking now.

“Please, mom, please,” Steve bawled, pulling away from her and cowering back.  Paula noted the way her son wouldn’t look at her now, and she hated it.  It reminded her of the way he was around his father.  And she was not his father.  She was hardly a mother, but more importantly she was not his father.  She swallowed hard, pride overcoming any deeply buried traces of warmth and love within her.

“Listen to me,” she tried again, voice still shaking.  “Give me your arm.”

But Steve just unabashedly wailed, now feebly sitting up.  Tears streamed down his cheeks, drops of blood forming on his freshly scraped arm.  The guttural cries escaping his lips were so agnonized, Paula couldn’t understand it.  She had never seen him like this.  He just kept murmuring unintelligible things that sounded like don’t, don’t, don’t, and please, no, and pathetically trying to get the keys from her.  His efforts were futile, but he wouldn’t back down.

“Steven,” she said, incredulously.  “Stop.”

“Mom, she’s the only friend I have.”  

Steve’s tortured words landed hard, on both you and Paula.  They hit you like a freight train, piercing your heart.  

Steve cried and cried, finally looking at his mother again as he admitted this treacherously painful confession in a wrecked voice.  Paula couldn’t believe it.  There was no way that Steve didn’t have friends.  She had seen him.  At his games, and social gatherings.  He got along with everybody.  She didn’t have to be at school with him to know he was popular.  All the girls had a crush on him, and all the guys wanted to be around him.  No way were you the only friend he had. No way was he as lonely as he was saying that he was.  He wasn’t, he just wasn’t… Was he?

But then Paula realized it wasn’t a matter of him not having friends.  It was only a matter of you.  You, his other limb since he was the age of six.  You, who spent every birthday and holiday with him.  You, who sat with him on the bus, and at lunch, and any party you both went to together or with your families.  You, who somehow seemed to be everywhere, in every memory.  She’d never really thought much of it, assuming it was just some childhood crush or next door neighbor that you would both eventually outgrow.  And when she had found you in his bed, naturally, she assumed the worst.  You and Steve were both in middle school.  This was prime time for puberty, and exploring sexuality.  It was the pre-high school danger zone.  No way around it.  But come to think of it, she’d never seen you act as anything other than friends.  Not that that mattered.  Friends liked each other, too.  It all had to start somewhere.

Paula glanced up at the passenger window of her car, spotting you.  You still had your knees to your chest, fresh tears of your own spilling down your cheeks.  She would never admit it, but the sight of you looking so hurt – thanks to her – made her heart ache.  She knew you were a good girl.  If anything, you were obnoxiously good.  Sometimes she wondered if you had a single mean bone in your body.  It was infuriating, really.

She turned back to her son, who was still weeping uncontrollably and waiting for her to respond.  That really drove the knife deeper into her heart, and she could feel herself cracking.  The brutal truth of it all was landing, the realization dawning on her.

You were Steve’s home.

Mr. and Mrs. Harrington would never be that for their son.  Nor would their great big house.  No social status, or money, or upper class school would give him refuge.  But you?  You did that.  Have been doing that for the past six years.  

Steve didn’t lack friends.  He lacked family.  And you were far closer to family than his actual family was.

Mrs. Harrington took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose, keeping her emotions at bay.  She pushed her bangs out of her face, slowly rising to stand.  She closed her eyes briefly, mustering up whatever strength was left in her.  Then, she made her way towards you with a collected yet somber expression etching her feminine features.

All you could do was watch her, unable to breathe as you anxiously waited to see what she was about to do.  To your surprise, she reached for the handle…and opened your door.  You sat there, frozen in place.  Mrs. Harrington didn’t hurry you back out of her car, seeing how visibly afraid you were.  Instead, she just tilted her head slightly, and you knew that was your cue.  Newfound relief surged through you, and you felt the ice pick that was lodged in your chest finally melt.  Cautiously, you made your way out of the passenger’s seat, your bare feet touching the grass.  You looked up at her timidly, finding her expression to be blank.  

Then you turned to Steve.  Beautiful, sweet Steve.  He was still on the ground, his cries steadying.  When he saw you step out of the car, he stumbled to his feet, hiccuping.  You kept your head low, shoulders slumped as you made your way towards him.  You crashed into his chest, feeling the weight of the world lifted off your shoulders as Steve’s arms wrapped around you.

Steve’s entire world had ended just a few minutes ago, and now it had begun again.  The second you were back in his arms, everything was alright.  He still hiccupped and whimpered, but you did too.  You just held each other, crying softly.  

All Paula could do was watch.  Something about the way her son held you – so protectively and so full of love – made something inside her stir.  A sour taste filled her mouth, wanting to feel touched by it but too bitter at her own miserable reality to let it do so.  Because her son resonated more love than her husband ever could.  The way that Steve clung to you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he swayed you both side to side, was the truest form of love that Paula had ever seen.  Her friends had never held her like that, when she was a little girl.  Even all grown up, Chet had never held her like that.  Not even close.  Not even at their happiest, years ago.  Maybe she had assumed that their son would naturally be the same way.  

God, was she wrong.  Because as you fiddled your fingers in the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, whispering how sorry you were, causing Steve to just shake his head against your shoulder and tell you not to be, Paula Harrington saw the epitome of true love shine through her son.  And, by extension, you. 

She hung her head, unable to look any more.  It upset her too much.  So she quietly made her way back inside, refusing to speak of this ever again.  Not with Steve, or with you.  Your parents would never know, and Chet Harrington would never know either.  

As Steve held you close to him, refusing to let you go, somehow you both knew that you would never have to worry about this again.  You weren’t going to be pulled apart, or stop being there for each other.  Because even if you had been driven away from him today, Steve would have persisted.  You would have done the same.  Tethered souls cannot be untethered.

Steve was twelve years old when he found that out.

___________

It was Steve’s fifteenth birthday when he kissed you for the very first time.

His parents were out at some party that night, having brought yours along too.  So the house was his for the night, until they drunkenly stumbled home.  All of his friends were elated.  Big house, no parents.  That’s the way Carol Perkins always puts it.  Steve Harrington’s house was the coolest on the block.  Huge pool with a deck.  Two stories, plus a man cave basement with a fully stocked mini bar that felt like an underground speakeasy.  And best of all, no parental supervision.  

Steve had become quite the hit, come freshman year.  He was captain on the swim team, and his body showed it.  His charm was as enticing as ever, winning every heart of every girl at school.  His boyishly handsome features blossomed day by day, growing cuter by the second.  His hair had become his statement piece, coining his nickname, Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.  He had it goin’ on, and everyone knew it.  Including you.

You, too, were a catch.  Your hair was longer, and you’d trimmed layers into your long red locks so that you had little side swept curtain bangs that all the girls wanted.  You were a cheerleader, but you really loved photography.  So you took that up, too.  You also had a great house for parties, which your mom was always too willing to host for you and your cheer squad girlfriends.  You never really planned those, so much as she did. And sure, you shared the same circle of friends as Steve.  But you still had that introverted loner streak in you, liking to do your own thing.  Steve was the social butterfly, his posse of admirers increasing more and more.  You were popular, given that you were the freshman heartthrob’s best friend.  ‘Steve’s girl.’  

Except you weren’t his girl, though.  Not really.  Yeah, you two were inseparable as ever.  That hasn’t changed.  But you weren’t technically his.  At least, not romantically…

“C’mon, big boy!  Chug the rest’a that beer so we can play some spin the bottle!”

Tommy H.  Somehow, that rowdy kid had gotten into your circle.  You weren’t really sure how.  He played basketball, but he was mostly on the bench.  His daddy was rich, too, but he was a drunk and a slob.  His step-mom was somewhere in her twenties, probably leaning more towards the younger end.  No one really knew much about his actual mom, but the mommy issues definitely showed.  Not that this had stopped Carol from being all over him.  Those two had their tongues down each other’s throats all the time, ever since she hit on him at one of the games.  They had snuck behind the bleachers to make out.  Probably more.  They bickered, sometimes being downright cruel to each other.  But it seemed to be their thing.

Oh yeah, and about Carol.  She was pretty much the same as she was in kindergarten.  Bratty.  Obnoxious.  Loud.  But when she had noticed you and Steve were still friends, and Tommy H. had made it clear to her that that wasn’t changing anytime soon, she’d retired her days of picking on you.  She pretty much had since that day at recess, but especially after seeing you were this untouchable princess in Steve’s world.  She didn’t get it, but she didn’t care to try.  She merely accepted it, and so you let it be.  You were stronger than you had been back then, having more of a voice.  But you were still a good girl at heart, soft spoken and a little too forgiving. 

“Oh Jesus,” Steve muttered, chuckling as he swiped at his perfect hair.  

Tommy H. has an arm slung around him, getting everyone to cheer him on.  You sat on the couch next to Stacy and Liz, your Paps Blue Ribbon in hand, grinning.  Chug, chug, chug, everyone chanted.  Soon enough, Steve’s bottle was empty and a circle was forming on the floor.  You settled on the ground across from him, shooting him a cute smirk.  He winked — and it didn’t matter how long you’d known him, it always made you blush.

“This seat taken?”

You looked up to find Christopher Cazaway standing above you, a soft smile on his lips.  You returned it, patting the empty space beside you.

“Be my guest.”

He obliged, not hesitating to take you up on the offer.  Christopher was a sophomore.  Blonde, handsome, 6’5” and a basketball superstar.  He was bound to get a scholarship somewhere great, no doubt in anyone's mind.  He was every coach’s dream, along with every girl at the school.  But as far as his personality goes, he wasn’t the jock type.  He was sort of a gentle giant, with a heartwarming smile and hearty laugh.  He could dribble and shoot hoops like no other, and he was drop dead handsome, but there wasn’t a vain bone in his body.  Christopher was surprisingly soft spoken, almost shy.  He was mature, sometimes seeming a little wise beyond his years.  He seemed to talk better with adults than teens in ways.  Still, everyone adored him.  He got invited to every party, hosting a few of his own but rarely.  

Secretly introverted kids like you noticed other like minded souls when you spotted them.  But little did you know, it was Christopher who had noticed you first.  Sure, he liked your vibrant red hair and ocean grey eyes.  Yeah, he noticed the lean build of your legs and slim curve of your neck and jawline.  Absolutely, he thought you were beautiful.  He liked the thin little rings you wore on your fingers, and he thought your laugh was adorable.  More than anything though, Christopher liked the way you carried and presented yourself.  He liked that you were so aware, observant.  You weren’t aloof, or like all the other girls that flung themselves at him.  You were real.  And he liked that.  A lot.  He kept liking more things about you, the more you both sat together in chemistry class or saw each other at basketball practice, since that’s where you had cheer meets.

“Man,” he said, crossing his legs.  “Haven’t played spin the bottle since middle school.”

You hummed a light chuckle, setting down your drink.  “Well if it makes you feel any better, I’ve never played period.”

He cocked an eyebrow, grinning at you.  “Is that right?”

You smiled sheepishly.  “I don’t get out much.”

He had to chuckle at that, knowing you were half kidding.  But he didn’t doubt that you’d never played before.  Not because you seemed awkward or uncomfortable, but because you weren’t like the other girls.  Or anyone here, for that matter.  You weren’t the typical snobby rich girl, from her snobby rich family.  You were different.

From across the room, Steve watched you two talk.  He found it interesting that Christopher and you talked with such ease, never having realized you two might be friends.  But Stacy and Liz chimed into your conversation eventually, and Tommy H. was back to hollering again.

“Everybody, shut up!” he shouted, silencing people for the most part.  He clapped his hands together, grinning like an idiot.  “Let’s fuck some lips.”

Girls made faces and sounds of disgust, while most of the dudes snickered in agreement.   You kept a straight face, not really phased by his antics.  Christopher found the kid gross, but knew he was just an ignorant freshman who thought he was hot shit.  So he didn’t really let it irk him much.  

“Wait,” Carol interjected, cracking open a peach schnapp.  “What if, like, a guy lands on a guy?”

Tommy H. snorted.  “Then you roll again.  No one’s gay up in here.  This isn’t a faggot party.”

Steve’s nose scrunched at that.  “Tommy, c’mon, man.  Don’t say that.”

You squirmed, adding softly, “that’s really not nice.”

“What?!  It’s true.”  Tommy H. took a swig of his beer, shrugging.

“Okay, then what about girls?” Carol pressed.  Her boyfriend smiled devilishly.

“Nah, that shit’s hot,” he sneered.  

“Ugh, that’s not fair!” Carol whined, but her grin contradicted her complaint.  You internally rolled your eyes.  Oh sweet misogyny, you thought to yourself.  The selective homophobia of an insecure male asshole was enough to make you wanna puke.

“Okay, can we just — play?” Someone interjected.

“Alright, alright,” Steve said, waving his hands.  He placed his empty beer bottle in the middle of the circle, looking up to wriggle his eyebrows at everyone.  “Who’s first?”

“You are, big guy,” Tommy H. said, clapping him in the back.  “Birthday boy always kicks us off.”

Some of the teens oooh’d and giggled, dramatically.  All the girls were just itching for it to be them that the bottle landed on, so that they could smooch the hot new heartthrob of Hawkins High.  Their very own small town Prince Charming.

Steve shrugged, reaching to give the bottle a spin.  

As you watched the bottle turn and turn, you couldn’t help but feel the anxious butterflies dance in your stomach.  You weren’t sure why you hoped it landed on you.  Then again, you were.  In fact, you totally were.  You’d loved Steve for as long as you could remember.  It was inevitable, given your history.  You knew he loved you, too.  It just probably wasn’t like that.  Still, you wondered if maybe he wanted the bottle to land on you too.

But it didn’t land on you.  It landed on Becky, who couldn’t help but gasp.  She looked absolutely ecstatic, giggling like a school girl.  Steve look at her with a grin and raised an eyebrow, somehow looking both shy and confident.

Oh shit.  Were you about to watch him kiss another girl?  You hadn’t had to see that before.  Sure, you knew he’d kissed another girl before.  A few, actually.  Steve’s first kiss had been Elsie Fitzgerald.  8th grade, behind the P.E. building.  You knew that, because Steve had told you first thing.  He’d nudged you in line at the cafeteria, telling you in a low voice as he plopped a milk carton on his tray.  And you’d listened, pretending that it didn’t make your heart break.  He was pretty happy about it, more so for himself than he was actually lit up about having kissed Elsie specifically.  She had passed him a note in class, asking to be his Valentine.  Your heart really sank after hearing that, wishing it had been you.  After that, Steve had a few kisses with girls under his belt — none of which were with you.

You were still waiting on your first kiss.  

And as that reminder floated around in your head, you watched Becky crawl across the floor to lean in and kiss your best friend on the lips.  He sat still, kissing her with ease.  You wondered what it felt like.  The touch of his lips, which you always thought looked so soft.  Becky lingered a little while, and eventually Steve pulled away with a charming smile.  She squealed, flitting back to her seat and flipping her hair.  The butterflies in your stomach felt blue, but you kept a light smile on your face to mask it. 

Now, Tommy spun the bottle. One by one, teens kissed.  Some girls even kissed, making you flush.  You watched Steve kiss a couple other girls, all of them doing a horrible job at concealing their giggling fits.  At some point, it was your turn to spin — and it landed right between Steve and Tommy H. 

Now you really felt butterflies in your stomach. Their dance was a little angry this time, though.  Your anxiety spiked, dreading the thought of kissing Tommy but nerves wrecked as you thought about getting to kiss Steve.

Your eyes glanced up at your best friend by default, finding that he was already looking back at you shyly.  Tommy barked a laugh, clapping his hands.

“Look, I don’t wanna make any calls here,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender.  “But uhhh, I’ll let the birthday boy take this one.  As much as I’d love to rock your world, princess.”

Your eyes narrowed at him.  “That’s one way to put it.”

“C’mon, birthday boy,” Carol snickered.  “Kiss your best friend.”

Steve felt himself blush, hoping he didn’t look as nervous as he felt.  God, he had wondered what it felt like to kiss you for so long without even realizing that he had until this very moment.  The way you were looking at him right now, looking so calm and content, he never would have known that you were so completely in love with him.  He was pretty sure that he was a party of one, in that department.  

Tommy kept making gross kissy noises.  Steve cleared his throat, feigning lighthearted cockiness as he looked wryly at Tommy.  

“Knock it off, man,” he mumbled, turning back to face you.  

You watched him eye you with curiosity, as if he was silently asking you if this was okay.  But you just smiled warmly, welcoming the contact.  So Steve got on his knees and crawled over to you, meeting you halfway.  As he got closer to you, he could see those tiny sun kissed freckles that lightly dusted your nose, and the smooth surface of your porcelain cheek.  He could see the light whisk of mascara on your eyelashes, and the very neutral shade of lipstick on your full lips.  He felt himself swallow, his usual bravado failing him.  You looked so gentle, sweet as ever.  He wondered if your tongue tasted as sweet as you were…

You sat back on your knees and heels, hands placed in your lap as you looked at him, patient and a little sheepish.  Steve was so close to you now, basking in the scent of your soft perfume.  It smelled like the ocean, with faint traces of coconut and vanilla.  He wanted to kiss you.  He really did.  

“Oh my god, kiss already!” Carol screeched.  

But neither of you flinched, even as the others echoed their sentiments.  You breathed a tiny laugh, making Steve grin.  Without thinking, he found himself placing a hand to the curve of your jaw.  Oh.  He hasn’t done that with the other girls.  His breath lightly hitched at the contact, realizing he’d never actually been this close to you.  Which made no sense, given you’d fallen asleep in the same bed for how many years now?  But this was different.  This type of intimacy wasn’t the same.

You subtly leaned into his touch, eyes never leaving his.  His thumb stroked your cheek, the corner of his lip tugging upwards.  Your noses touched, the sharp tip of his against the little perky end of yours.  His breath was warm against your skin, feeling like a blanket wrapping itself around your face.  You both kept leaning in, slowly.  Ever so slowly.

Finally, his bottom lip grazed yours.  And those butterflies in your stomach were doing a full blown ballet now.  Steve felt his heart skip a beat.  Maybe several beats.  

Damn, he thought.  Since when did kissing feel like this?

It was the way your lips moved against his, so graceful and supple.  The way your fair skin felt like satin beneath his finger tips.  Steve felt a rush of euphoria overcome him, reveling in the feeling of your mouth against his.  Becky didn’t kiss like that.  Elsie didn’t, or any of the other girls.  People always said that kissing is an art.  Steve did have a reputation for being a good kisser, even at just fifteen years old.  He just didn’t really think much of it until he was enchanted by your kiss.  

Part of him thought that there was no way you hadn’t kissed somebody before.  Not with how incredible you felt brushing your lips with his.  Then again — maybe it was because you had never been kissed before that it was so magical.  That innocent bliss of being ‘untouched,’ not yet tainted by anyone or anything.

Meanwhile, you reveled in the rhapsody of Steve’s kiss.  It was everything you ever could have dreamed it would be, and more.  His lips were soft, cloud-like to the touch.  He was gentle in the ways you thought he might be rough, and tame in the ways you thought might be wild.  He didn’t rush anything, taking his time with even the most microscopic of movements.  The light yet firm grasp of his hand on your jaw was slightly edging down towards your neck, and it was all you could do not to hum with lovesick satisfaction.

Yeah, no, everyone thought.  He definitely hadn’t been this tender when kissing the other girls here.

It made those other girls watch you with envy, guys cocking an eyebrow and making immature, snide remarks under their breath.  It was so obvious, the magnetic pull between the two of you.  Anyone could see it.  Even the two of you did, but neither of you would ever admit that.  At least not anytime soon.

And as the kiss ended all too soon — well, too soon for you guys, not necessarily the others — Steve’s pillow soft lips parted from yours as he ever so slightly pulled back to look at you.  Your angelic face was still just an inch or so away from his, your eyelashes fluttering open to reveal your grey irises, exposing a new tint of lovesick blue.  They sparkled, dancing as you looked into his brown eyes that now looked more like the color honey.  You bit your lip, a timid smile finding your freshly kissed pout.  

God, Steve thought.  He would've kissed you again, right then and there.

But as Tommy H. hooted and hollered, snapping your two out of your gaze, reality sunk in again.  This was a party, and it was just a game.  It wasn’t a real kiss.  It was prompted by a bottle and reckless youth.  Nothing more.

Right?

“Well alrighty then, lovebirds,” some guy chided with a dark laugh.

You blushed, casting your eyes downwards.  You composed yourself, watching Steve do the same.  Yep, it was just a dream.

“Yeah, since when did this become a love making session?” Tommy H. jested.

Steve shot Tommy a scowl, before watching you scooch back to where you’d been sitting.  You gave him a shy smile, twiddling your thumbs in your lap.  Steve quickly scooted back to his place too, across from you in the circle.  He smiled back at you softly, before Tommy gave him a macho shove.  Steve shoved him back, but with half the strength.  He was still snapping out of it.  Soon, he cleared his throat, forcing his mental fantasies to the back of his brain again.

“Alright, next up,” Steve said, straightening his hair.  Fuck, did anyone else see how nervous he felt?  Apparently not, because everyone seemed to resume the game like nothing had ever happened.

Christopher clicked his tongue and slapped his hands on his knees.  “Welp,” he said, leaning forward.  “Guess it’s me.”

He gave the bottle a good spin.  

Lo and behold, it landed on you.

“Oh shit!” Tommy H. exclaimed, rolling over into a ridiculously unnecessary fit of laughter.  

Carol made obnoxiously loud remarks, too, along with lots of people in the circle.

Yeah.  Oh shit, indeed.

“Aww, little princess is getting all the kisses tonight,” she cooed condescendingly, her high pitched voice so fake and sugary sweet.

You felt your cheeks flush again, allowing yourself to tinker a laugh.  You turned to face Christopher, finding him rubbing his neck with a bashful smile on his face.  He looked at you with slightly timid eyes, chuckling nervously.  He was nervous?  Why would he be nervous, you wondered?

Oddly, you felt very at ease about the situation.  It was just Christopher.  He was always kind to you, and a good friend since you started high school.  If you’d had to kiss anybody else in the circle, you would prefer it be him than some guy you hardly knew.  And you certainly hoped it wouldn’t land on Tommy. 

You shrugged your shoulders, giving him a little grin.  He grinned back, brightly.  The corners of his eyes crinkled, and it was adorable really.  

Given that he was seated right next to you, no awkward crawling towards each other had to take place.  You just pivoted to face him, comfortably.  This kiss didn’t make you nervous.  You’d just gotten your first one out of the way, with the one guy you had been in love with your whole life.  So a second one with someone who was just a friend?  It seemed pretty easy.

Christopher had his eyes intently on you, which dropped down to look at your lips then back up to your eyes.  He leaned back on one hand, which he placed slightly behind you firmly into the carpet.  It gently brushed against your hip, his tone arm ghosting over the fabric of your dress.  He leaned in closer, slow and calculated, so that he was slightly looking up at you.  You still weren’t nervous, though, even as you looked into his dark blue eyes.  You just smiled, waiting.  His loods became hooded as he tilted his head just right, so that yours could tilt the opposite way whenever your lips made contact.  Sure enough, his lips found yours, and it was the most grounding kiss.  It was sweet, a little firmer than Steve’s.  He was soft, just a little more assertive.  Suddenly you felt his other hand cup the back of your neck, his touch tender and caring but secure.  It surprised you, but you didn’t pull away.  In fact, you instinctively placed a hand on his knee. 

If you hadn’t been busy locking lips with Christopher, you would have seen the melancholy expression on Steve’s face.  But you didn’t.  

Steve hopelessly watched you kiss the handsome sophomore, overcome with a sense of dread.  He hadn’t taken this into account when playing the game.  You know, that he’d actually have to watch you kiss another guy.  Maybe that wasn’t really the problem, though.  No, the problem was the way that Christopher kissed you.  Was still kissing you.  Steve could have sworn that he saw the blonde athlete move his lips against yours a second time, and envy creeped up his spine.  Christopher definitely hadn’t kissed Linda or Molly like that earlier in the game, when the bottle had landed on him during their turn.  Nah, this was just with you.  Why the hell was he kissing you like that?

…why the hell was he still kissing you like that?

Steve squirmed.  He felt as though he might laugh, or shout, or blurt something without being able to control himself, and he probably would have had it not been for you finally breaking contact with Christopher.  Oh thank Christ, Steve thought, as he let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding this whole time.

You simply gave Christopher a warm smile, but your eyes looked slightly dazed and confused.  Because you were.  It had caught you a little off guard, the way that he’d just kissed you.  It definitely lasted a little longer than needed.  Not that you minded it.  You didn’t really know what to think of it, actually.  One thing was for sure, his gaze on you was not one he’d given any of the other girls that night.  You knew that much.  You might’ve been uncharacteristically oblivious to Steve’s feelings for you, but you weren’t blind to someone else’s.  Before now, though, you never really thought that Christopher felt anything for you aside from friendship.  But now, it seemed that he did.  It seemed he very much did.

Huh, you thought.  Interesting.

You still hadn’t looked over to see Steve’s disheartened expression in the midst of all the immature teenagers in a circle, making a series of noises and comments following the kiss.  He hoped that no one was watching him.  Then again, would he even care if they did?  That didn’t matter, not when he cared way more about the fact that some other guy was looking at you like that.  It didn’t sit right.  It really didn’t sit right.  

But what was he gonna do about it?  Say, “Hey Christopher, it’s my birthday, so maybe back off my girl?”  No, because you weren’t technically his.  You were your own.

…but your heart was his.

…and his heart was yours.

Steve doesn’t really remember much after that.  He knew they hadn’t been playing for much longer, and that eventually everyone wanted to shotgun some more beers.  He knew that Linda and Becky had been saying something to him in the lavish living room, as they twirled their hair and batted their lashes.  He knew that Tommy H. had been daring everyone to jump in the pool, dragging Carol in with him.  Teens screeched and hollered, splashing and laughing while the Eagles blasted in the background from the Harrington’s flashy stereo inside the house.

Steve does remember when “Sweet Emotion” by Aerosmith had started to play.  He was leaning against his kitchen island, making small talk with some of the guys.  You were out by the pool, red solo cup in hand, and you had started to sway to yourself.  The skirt of your dress flicked at the corners, your toned legs sashaying you from side to side.  You turned a little, so that he could see your profile.  You were grinning ear to ear, in your own little world.  He loved when you did that.  You were so damn adorable when you did that.  You lifted a hand into the air – the one not holding your cup of booze – closing your eyes, and singing the words.

Sweet emotion…

Sweet emotion…

You talk about things that nobody cares

Wearing out things that nobody wears

You turn so that you’re now facing the open sliding glass door, opening your eyes as you fix your gaze on Steve.  Your eyes are a little hazy, but still glow.  You point your finger at Steve, serenading him in your buzzed stupor.  Your grin deepens as you sing the next words along with Steven Tyler.

You’re calling my name, but I gotta make clear

I can’t say, baby, where I’ll be in a year

Steve can feel himself smiling like an idiot, shaking his head as he lets out a throaty chuckle that’s drowned out by the music.  He bites his lip absentmindedly, watching you just exist.  You throw your head back, smiling at the sky, hips still swaying.  

Stacy makes her way over to you from the other side of the pool, definitely more drunk than you were.  She sings loudly, catching your attention.  You look down from the black night sky to look at her, and you laugh when you see her wanting to join you.  She grabs your hand, twirling you around and singing everything off key.

Some sweat hog mama with a face like a gent

Said my get up and go, must've got up and went

Well I got good news, she's a real good liar

'Cause the backstage boogie sets your pants on fire

As the guitar solo rips through the stereo speakers, your dancing intensifies.  Everyone in the pool seem to be getting rowdier, also singing Aerosmith at the top of their lungs.

Stacy’s footing betrays her and she stumbles, laughing drunkenly.  You catch her, making sure that she’s okay and stifling a laugh.  But once you see that she’s clearly fine, you laugh too.  Liz makes her way out of the pool to check on her, squatting down and clutching her hands and still singing while Stacy just keeps laughing.

Steve takes the opportunity to approach you as you stand alone again, sneaking up quickly to grab you and spin you around.  You squeal, feeling his chest pressed to your back as your legs dangle off the ground.  You hold onto his toned arms tightly, giggling uncontrollably.  When he sets you back down, you turn so that you’re looking directly at him.  

Sweet emotion…

Sweet emotion…

Your stomach does flip-flops, seeing his signature Steve Harrington smiled directed only at you.  His brown eyes hold a certain mischief in them, and you can’t help but feel a rush of love for this boy you’d known since you were just barely in kindergarten.  He lifts your hand to twirl you, and suddenly you’re six years old again, dancing in your treehouse with Steve.  The real world ceases to exist, and it’s just the two of you in your own fantasy world.  No matter what ups and downs, highs and lows, good days and bad days, heartache and joy, that reality throws both of your way – the one constant you both have had is each other.  Somehow, that’s never changed. 

You both sing to each other, hand in hand and hips in time with the music.

I pulled into town in a police car

Your daddy said I took it just a little too far

You're telling her things but your girlfriend lied

You can't catch me 'cause the rabbit done died

Yes it did

Now everyone around you is losing their mind, screaming the words and partying like animals as the song continues to blare.  It’s an 80’s rock-n-roll kind of vibe, full of teen angst, booze and sexual tension.  Guys shotgun more beer by the pool, couples make out in the deep end.  Girls hold each other with limp limbs and sloppy smiles, slurring the words and proclaiming their girl power love for each other.  They won’t remember it tomorrow, but for tonight it’s the glorious eternal truth.

As for you – Nicole St. James, the freshman mystery girl and princess in the making – you’ve only got eyes and moves for your best friend in the world.  Steve Harrington, Hawkins High’s soon-to-be very own King Steve.  Two best friends and lovers in denial, hopelessly devoted to one another, just without the title.  You both dance around the truth together on his posh pool deck.  The confident shake of his hips and thrusts of yours fool you blind from seeing that you are just as equally afraid as he is to make the wrong move.

Stand in the front just a shakin' your ass

I'll take you backstage, you can drink from my glass

I'll talk about something you can sure understand

'Cause a month on the road and I'll be eating from your hand

Steve knows that something’s gotta give.  He knows that it can’t go on like this forever.  But for him, this is safe.  This is forever.  What you two have guarantees that you’ll both make it.  That you’ll never go away.  You won’t abandon him, or lose interest in him.  If he keeps his distance, even tangled up in your arms when dancing in his backyard or falling asleep next to you, then he’ll always keep you close.  All the money in the world, but he could never afford to lose that.  Not ever.

And you don’t say anything to make him change his mind.  To make him ask you to be his.  To make a move beyond a kiss shared in a public game of spin-the-bottle.  To tell you that he doesn’t just love you – but that he is in love with you.  You don’t confess it either, no matter how fiercely you want to do exactly that.  Because as selfish as it was, you were content too.  You never minded being on your own, but a world without Steve stopped being fathomable in 1972 on that brisk afternoon in your treehouse.  The second he had knocked on your pastel yellow door, in his little sage green sweater, jeans and converse, your solitude had made room for a second person.  He was your other half, so it really wasn’t even surrendering solitude.  It was simply completing it.  Steve completed it.  Completed you.

_________________

To be continued…

VOLUME II next month 🖤

TAG LIST: @loveshotzz @creelhousesteve @t-lostinworlds @freezaz123 @zbeez-outlet @cutiecusp @unhealthyobservationsloves @sunioli

[galvanizedfriend]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for the tag @kirythestitchwitch and @morningstargirl666 🤗

How many works do you have on ao3? 22! But I think I currently have two or three fics that are private because I keep meaning to rewrite and never get around to it.

What's your total ao3 word count? 1.617.205 😗

What fandoms do you write for? Currently only The Vampire Diaries/The Originals.

Top five fics by kudos: The Wolf (surprising no one, The Originals S1 rewriting), The Wolf II (surprising no one², The Originals S2 rewriting), Vice & Virtue (very surprising this has more kudos than TWIII lol, regency AU), The Wolf III (The Originals S3 and 4 rewriting) and The Sound of Settling (that time I committed coffee shop!AU).

Do you respond to comments? Yes! I try to always keep up with comments, but I get a little behind from time to time, especially with comments left on older fics. Sorry, folks 🥲 With WIPS, I tend to always reply to comments right before or immediately posting a new chapter.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Pendulum, for sure. The alternative ending is pure angst (and I love it very much, there's so much meaning and to me it's a perfect ending for that story).

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? All the others lol All my fics have a happy ending, Pendulum is an exception.

Do you get hate on fics? Not so much anymore, though I did recently get a bitter anon here on tumblr. But yeah, I've received a lot of hate over the years.

Do you write smut? Occasionally, when I feel like the story asks for a smutty scene, but more often than not I go with the classic fade to black.

Craziest crossover: I've never written crossovers, though I have written lots of AUs inspired by other things (I forgot what those are called now).

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes, I have. A while back this nutjob stole a bunch of fics and published them as originals on Amazon and The Wolf was among them. I got lots of comments from people warning me about it and I managed to get it taken down.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, I have! To Russian and Chinese.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? I have not, though it's a fun idea.

All time favorite ship? My favorite ship is always the current one and I've been stuck on Klaroline for a few years now. Those two idiots in love have my whole heart.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I have so many. 🥲 I really wanted to give the TVD S5 rewrite a chance, but really don't think I have it in me to start something like that again.

What are your writing strengths? Oh boy. I suck at paying myself a compliment. But I've heard I write good action scenes? I don't know if it's true. Personally, I think I do a decent job of writing AUs, as in adapting canon aspects to other universes. I don't just plaster names on characters, I try very hard to make sure everything is still recognizable even in a totally different setting (then again, that's very subjective 😂).

What are your writing weaknesses? Wordiness. I am so freaking wordy, my stories are so goddamn long. I wish I could simplify my writing, shorten sentences, but alas. I have these ideas for writing exercises I would like to try with a couple of ideas I have, but I need to finish the ones I have started before I can jump into something else.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? If it's single words or short sentences, it's ok. I kinda like it even, but when it's full dialogues in languages I don't understand, it kind of loses me.

First fandom you wrote in? I think I wrote some semblance of fic when I was like 12 for Charmed, though I didn't even know that was fanfiction. But the first conscious fic I ever wrote was for Torchwood.

Favorite fic you've written? Pendulum. I think it's the most original and profound (lol) thing I ever wrote, it expresses many aspects of how I feel about KC. But I also really, really like The Unexpected Grace of Falling Apart. I LOVE romcoms and I think that story is everything I love in that genre, without being completely silly (in my opinion, ofc). Those two fics couldn't be more different if I wanted to, but one thing they have in common is the fact I spent years working on them.

Tagging @definedareasofuncertainty, @howlingmoonrise, @misssophiachase, @jinxedwood, @bettsfic, @bellemorte180, @marginally-accurate, @b-mina and @austennerdita2533!

[i-fondued]

Ghost | Sinners in Secret - Chapter 13

Chapter 13 - The Clubbing Incident

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Reader/Sister of Sin x Papa “Terzo” Emeritus III

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Plot, smut, etc. See AO3 for full list of tags!

A/N: Here is the next chapter! I'd like to add I've never been clubbing before and what I know of it is what you see in movies. Also here is the offical playlist for this chapter, I forgot to add that LOL

Chapter One - HERE

Chapter Two - HERE

Chapter Three - HERE

Chapter Four - HERE

Chapter Five - HERE

Chapter Six - HERE

Chapter Seven - HERE

Chapter Eight - HERE

Chapter Nine - HERE

Chapter Ten - HERE

Chapter Eleven - HERE

Chapter Eleven and ½ - HERE

Chapter Twelve - HERE

AO3 - HERE

The clock on the mantle over the fireplace chimed eleven times, signaling the hour, but I was too excited to even notice how late it already was. 

After a private dinner in our rooms, which had been the suggestion of Saltarian who stated Veritas was still fuming from earlier, we had begun to get ready for our night on the town. Terzo had taken over entirely and what had originally been planned to be just a quiet dinner in the city with a little night time sightseeing had morphed into clubbing well into the morning hours. This also meant Terzo had sent out a ghoul to do all the shopping he thought of since neither Copia or I had packed anything appropriate for clubbing. 

“Amore, you better hurry up.” Terzo called from the bedroom as I dressed in the bathroom. He’d wanted me to surprise me with their outfits and Copia with mine. “We need to pianificare la nostra fuga and soon!”

“Okay, okay!” I laughed, heart thrumming at the excitement of our plans. I took in my outfit and couldn’t help but hum appreciatively at the choice Terzo had made. It was so far out of my comfort zone but even i had to admit that I looked good, blush staining my cheeks.

I was wearing an incredibly short black latex dress, so tight to my curves it looked almost painted on. It had a mandarin collar with a keyhole over my chest to show off the ample cleavage the skin tight latex caused. Hanging from the collar and settling in the center of the keyhole was a silver grucifix. I wore thigh high latex boots, the heels just high enough to show off my legs but not enough that I would break my ankle. I wore the same long, dangly grucifix earrings I’d worn the other night but left all other jewelry off. I’d pulled my hair back into a slicked back ponytail and did my make-up for once. I kept my lipstick a deep red and my eyes smokey with a dramatic winged liner. 

My white iris still threw me off and I had to keep pausing when my reflection would startle me. The three of us hadn’t spoken about it, content to just soak in our small victory but Copia and Terzo had reminded me a few times that we would eventually have to talk about it. 

“Alright, I’m ready…let's get to sneaking.” I giggled, stepping back into our rooms as I smiled sheepishly before my eyes focused on the two men waiting for me. 

Terzo was standing in front of the fireplace, back towards Copia who was sitting in the wingback chair from the other evening. He was leaning slightly on the mantle and my mouth went a little dry looking at them both. 

Terzo was wearing a black sheer dress shirt, billowy lantern sleeves that came tightly to his wrists. I could see his chest hair, dark and thick, as it traveled from his chest down his stomach and past his navel where it disappeared behind his trousers. The front had some pleating details and at the collar was a large pussy bow. He wore high waisted trousers with a thick leather belt and they were made of some sort of silky material that was loose through his hips and thighs but started to tighten to his calves towards the bottom before they were tucked tightly into a pair of black boots. He was wearing black silk gloves and he’d kept on his Papal paints, hair slightly ruffled but not in his face beyond a strand or two. Again he wore his black diamond stud and grucifix earring as well, him and I matching without thinking.

“Ah, Amore. Hai un aspetto fantastico, Tesoro.” Terzo crooned as he came over to press a soft kiss to my temple. “How about il Cardinale, eh? He cleans up well, no?”

Slowly I turned my gaze to the other man in the room and my cheeks flushed at the sight of him. Copia’s eyes locked with mine, the heat clear in them, as he stood. Copia had been dressed in what I’m sure would look simple in comparison to Terzo and I but fit his personality far better that anything else, I had to give terzo credit there. Copia wore a black dress shirt, the first few buttons undone to expose his chest and his chest hair. He wore dark trousers that were just as tight as his formal trousers from the night before, dark leather belt with a small silver chain connected from the first belt loop to the one closer to his hip. He also wore a leather harness around his shoulders that connected together between his shoulder blades. 

I’d be lying if I said my mouth wasn’t watering at the thought of these two men. Copia’s knowing smirk made my thighs clench and I tried to think of a good excuse to use to convince them to stay here and fuck me till the sun came up. 

“Hai un aspetto incantevole, Topolino.” Copia purred as he took my hand and kissed my knuckles, his mustache ticking my over sensitive skin.

“Come on, you two. We need to sneak out of here, pronto!” Terzo chuckled, taking my free hand and tugging us along. 

The man was like an over excited toddler sometimes and I couldn’t help but smile brightly at him as he tugged me to the French doors leading into the hallways. 

Quietly as we could, which wasn’t saying much since we were all dressed like we were going to a goth vampire rave, we made our way from the dormitories to the main building and towards the side entrance where Terzo had said there was a ghoul waiting to drive us into the city, that way nobody had to worry about getting us back from the club. 

“Come, we have to hurry.” Terzo teased but Copia’s hand shot out and snagged both of us, pulling us back around the corner as the sounds of someone heading up the hallway became clearer. 

Realistically all three of us were, or in my case were becoming, senior clergy. We could come and go as we pleased. But part of me knew that we had a few folks who would go to great lengths to get us in trouble, even if it was something as silly as sneaking out of the monastery and without a papal guard with us for Papa. Especially after the last time he was here and caused a huge mess at the Vatican. 

I peaked as subtly as I could around the corner and had to hold in the groan of who was heading in direction. Cardinal Veritas apparently had taken the night patrol for the dormitories, Sister Caterina walking with him as they spoke softly. I couldn’t hear them but judging by their faces we didn’t want to get caught out at almost midnight. Veritas looked like he was sucking on a lemon and Caterina looked like she was about to cry. Suddenly they paused and I could just barely make out what they were saying. 

“I understand your frustrations, Brother, but is it not enough what we have now?” Caterina sighed, ringing her hands slightly. “We’ve lost the battle, they will be bound and there isn’t anything either of us can do.”

“It is my birthright, sorellina, you may be willing to step aside and lose Terzo but I am not willing to put aside what should have rightfully been mine.” Veritas hissed, rounding his fury on his sister who jumped slightly at his outburst. 

“I-I didn’t want to lose him,” She mumbled as they walked towards the hallway opposite where we were hidden. “Our goals, our dreams…they were not the same. Funny how that changed when he found his Prime Mover .” She sneered at my title, I rolled my eyes. I almost felt bad for her…almost. 

“We will make them see, mark my words Sister.” Veritas said ominously before they were out of sight and too far away to hear what they were saying. 

We waited a few minutes, I was processing what we’d overheard, before Terzo started to tug me along again. Copia was hot on our heels. 

“Come, Tesoro. Do not let them distract you from our celebrazioni, si?” He chuckled, tucking his arm around my waist as we stepped out into the side entrance where a black SUV with tinted windows sat waiting for us. 

“Papa is right, Stellina.” Copia purred in my ear as Terzo opened the car door for me. “Tonight is about us, celebrating us.”

…

After a surprisingly quick drive where I was glued to the window, taking in as much as I could in the inky black darkness of the night, we pulled up out front of a very old stone church. I could see the line of goths and punks wrapping around the building behind the ropes, all of them dressed in various outfits similar to what we were wearing. Copia had stepped out of the SUV first, turning and offering his hand to me. I smiled and thanked him, pressing a little kiss to his cheek as I stepped out of the way for Terzo. 

Once he stepped out it was like someone woke all the people in line up, all of them suddenly shouting for Terzo. I stepped closer to Copia out of instinct before taking both their arms. This was going to be my future, I couldn’t keep shying away from it. As we walked up to the bouncer, Terzo worked the crowd with his cheeky smiles and spoke fluent italian. 

“Ah buonasera Papa, Cardinale!” The bouncer greeted us, massive smile on his face. “Sono passati parecchi anni dall'ultima volta che vi ho visto qui.” It has been several years since I last saw you here

“Marcos, divertente vederti qui, non pensavo che avresti ancora lavorato qui. Pensavo che alla tua ragazza non piacesse questo posto?” Funny to see you here, I didn't think you would still be working here. I thought your girlfriend didn't like this place? Copia greeted him with a handshake and a genuine smile. “Siamo in città per affari ufficiali del clero, ma Terzo ha deciso che dovevamo festeggiare.” We are in town on official Clergy business, but Terzo decided we needed to celebrate

“Non lasciare che ti trattenga, entra. Sono sicuro che il manager sarà felice di vedere che i suoi clienti preferiti sono tornati!” Don't let me hold you up, come in. I'm sure the manager will be happy to see her favorite clients have come again! The bouncer laughed, holding the door open for the three of us. Terzo followed behind Copia and I while blowing kisses to the crowd outside. 

I gasped at the interior of the space, clearly once an old church had been given a second life now. The feeling was dark and seedy, the pulsing beat reverberating in my chest as the strobe lights flashed and the red glow of the overhead lights tinted the people around us, the back wall where the altar used to be was now a massive DJ stage, the stain glass windows illuminated from outside causing the stage to have a sort of ethereal glow. 

The main worship area had all pews stripped from it and instead was a massive dance floor packed with bodies. On either side underneath where there was a mezzanine level, were two massive bars with large cages holding women who were dancing along with the music. There was a massive staircase to our right that was roped off with two bouncers standing there to block folks from just heading up to where there was a VIP section on the level above us. 

“Papa, Cardinale, Sister.” A woman’s voice pulled me from my wandering gaze. The woman was shorter than me but you wouldn’t know based on the massive heels she was wearing. She wore a latex dress, just as form fitting as mine but stopped just at her knee, it was a nude color so at first glance I thought she was naked. She wore a leather body harness over it and smiled warmly at us. “We’ve been expecting you, I’ve set you up in the VIP lounge tonight.”

“Ah, Manager, it is so nice to see you again.” Terzo crooned, leaning around me to press a kiss to the woman’s cheek in greeting. “However I think we would like to jump right into the fray so to speak.”

“Excellent, Papa. Please let me know if you need anything, I’ve set you up with VIP bottle service for the floor and for your booth upstairs. Enjoy your evening!” With that she sauntered away, heading upstairs herself. 

I looked over at Copia who looked smug but anxious and I took his hand, squeezing it as I leaned in to yell in his ear. 

“You don’t have to dance if you don’t want too.”

“Si, si…I know. Let us get a few drinks and then maybe I will join…” he laughed sheepishly and tugged on Terzo’s sleeve, gesturing to the roped off VIP bar on the ground floor with his head. Terzo got the message and the three of us walked up to the bartender, a man wearing only a bondage harness and black leather trousers. 

“Three tequila shots!” I called out, handing him the black credit card I’d been told to use for emergencies. Clubbing and liquor counted as an emergency right?

Quickly the three of took the shots as the man poured them, sticking three lime wedges on a napkin in front of us. I turned around facing the boys with a cheeky grin. 

“To our first hurdle, one down and six rituals to go!” I cheered, a goofy smile on my face as I clinked my shot glass with theirs before throwing it back with a grimace. The liquor itself was smooth as it slid down my throat, sucking on the lime wedge before flagging the bartender for another round. 

“Amore, take it slow. We will be here for a while, why don’t we have a few drinks first, no?” Terzo teased, his gloved hand running up and down my bare upper arms as he called out into my ear over the pulse of the music. 

“But shots are faster and I need liquid courage for this.” I grumbled, a blush staining my cheeks. “Copia, what would you prefer?”

“I think one of us needs to keep a clear head just in case, Topolino. One more shot for me and I think I will stick with scotch for the evening.” Copia spoke as he leaned against the bar, though he looked casual I could read the tense muscles in his back. 

“Why don’t you scope out a spot for us in VIP while I let Papa drag me out to dance, find a good spot to watch us.” I offered, he looked a little more relaxed and nodded before heading towards the stairs up to VIP.

“You are very kind to him, Amore.” Terzo purred in my ear as he curled around me, one hand settling on my hip as he held the shot in front of my mouth. “He may not join us now, but give him some time to warm up and he will come back to you, trust me.”

“I think watching us will be all the invitation he needs.” I mumbled as I leaned my head back on his shoulder, turning to his ear as I spoke. “Let’s do this shot and you can show me some moves, old man.”

“Ooh, stai chiedendo una sculacciata stasera, marmocchio.” You're asking for a spanking tonight, brat. He chuckled darkly as I turned in his arms and took the shot from his hand. I threw it back while maintaining our gaze, my eyes heavy with lust as the strong liquor started to work its way in my system. “Come, let me show you these moves…”

Terzo threw his shot back quickly, taking my hand and leading me out onto the floor of writhing bodies. The dance floor was packed with people, the heat and air thick, making me almost feel like I was moving through a pulsing body of water. Somehow Terzo and I made it to almost the middle of the floor, moving our bodies together with the bass of the music. I followed his movements, facing him at first with my arms around his neck as he wrapped his around my waist. I swayed my hips to the beat as he pulled me close to him, the other bodies around us pressing closer as we began to move with the push and pull of the crowd around us. Like the movement of the tides, Terzo and I swayed together. His hands guided my hips against him as we bounced to the sound of the music, feeling almost entranced between the thrumming bass in my chest and the dark heat of lust in his eyes.

In the pulse of the strobe, Terzo’s mismatched eyes were locked on my face. His white iris looked like it was glowing, I was mesmerized by him as we both began to sweat from the wall of heat around us. Terzo’s hair was slightly hanging in his face as he gripped my hips roughly and spun me around to grind against him. I gasped and leaned my head back against his shoulder as he held firm my hips and refused to let me move away. I felt his cock against my ass and I couldn’t help the shudder that ran down my spine as I writhed against him, dancing to the pulsing beat. 

Terzo’s hands started to wander as I matched my movements to his own, the heat of his body and hands bleeding through both his gloves and the thin latex material of my dress. The flashing lights were disorienting and adding in the liquor running through my veins I had to close my eyes so I didn’t feel like I was spinning. 

“Stai bene, amore?” Terzo’s voice rang in my ear over the deafening beat. 

“I’m fine, just sensory overloaded I think. I never did anything like this before…” I laughed as I reached behind me to cup the back of his head. He pressed open mouth kisses to my neck and I moaned, the sound absorbed by the beat of the music. “Terzo…”

“Amore.” He purred into my skin, his hands running up my sides from my hips to my waist before cupping my breasts as he swayed against me, groaning in my ear as my free hand reached back to cup him over his trousers. 

He grunted and thrust himself into my palm, my mouth going dry as his thumbs pinched my nipples through the latex dress. I gasped his name, turning my head to bury my face in his neck. He smelled of incense as always but also something earthy, something so unique to him. I couldn’t help myself as I pressed kisses into the skin of his neck, biting down as one of his hand slipped between my thighs for only a second, sucking and leaving a love bite. He hissed, swearing under his breath as we continued to rock to the beat, before he chuckled darkly. 

“Look up, si?” Terzo groaned, hands returning to my hips as I bucked back against him.

I did as I was told and gasped at the slight of Copia watching us from the VIP area, leaning on the railing with a dark smirk. Even in the low light of the club I could see his eyes locked on Terzo and I as we ground against each other. I couldn’t help the whimper that slipped past my lips as one of Terzo’s hands wrapped around my throat, the other teasing my clenching thighs as we danced. His hand gripped the thin exposed section of skin between my thigh high boots and my extremely short dress. Copia’s smirk slipped from his face as he watched Terzo bite my neck, sucking a love bite mark right under my ear. I gasped, arching my back and tugging on his hair. 

“Terzo, please.” I gasped, eyes slipping closed as his fingers slipped upwards and just barely brushed against my clenching cunt. “What if someone sees us?”

“Pensi che me ne frega un cazzo, Amore?” Terzo chuckled in my ear, nipping the lobe before speaking again. “Let them enjoy the free show if they want…”

We danced for what felt like hours, Terzo groping me and grinding his cock against me. I felt him edging me so much I was shaking in his arms, panting and writhing like I was on the verge of coming undone in the middle of the dance floor. Twice our personal bottle service came and brought us another round of shots, taking the glasses with them as they went. I felt pleasantly drunk, floating on the edge of too much and not enough alcohol in my system. Just enough to make me think I could dance as well as the cage dancers but not enough to make me throw up. 

After the second round, which was actually Terzo and I’s fourth round in total, I had looked up to where I had spotted Copia before but he was gone. Puzzled, I tried to look around for him but Terzo spun me in his arms to face him, pulling me close as he grabbed my ass and we writhed against each other. Without warning he crashed his lips to mine, a strangled gasp coming out of me as our teeth clacked together. His tongue was in my mouth instantly and I fisted his shirt in my hands as I swallowed the strangled sound he made. His hands gripped my hips in a vice, grinding against me as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. 

“You naughty girl, Sorella…” Copia’s voice purred in my ear, I jumped as I pulled away from Terzo and looked over my shoulder. 

Copia had a slight flush to his cheeks, eyes slightly glassy from the liquor he’d been drinking, but he also had a cheeky smirk as he watched Terzo and I dance. He curled around me, hands gripping my hips as he pulled me away from Terzo and back to him. Terzo stepped closer, tucking a leg between mine and grinding it up against my core as Copia shifted my hips back and forth with the beat. I let out a groan, head falling back to rest against Copia’s shoulder as the two of them puppeteer my body like a marionette. I had already been close but now I was panting and arching off of Copia while Terzo whispered filthy things in my ear. 

“Sento il tuo odore da qui, Amore.” Terzo purred, his hands cupping my cheeks as he tilted my head to look at him. I panted and smiled at him warmly. “You’d drive these little boys crazy if they only knew…”

A blush stained my cheeks as I looked around us, most people were locked together just as much as we were. They were oblivious to what we were up to just next to them, but there was a set of two pairs of eyes in our direction. They were behind Terzo, how he even knew they were looking at us I’d never know, but they were dancing with two pretty girls. They weren’t looking at the girls though, no they were locked on me. I gasped as Terzo pressed open mouth, wet kisses to the keyhole spot over my cleavage. I looked away, my hands running through Terzo’s hair and pulling him against me. I hummed in pleasure and groaned as the tight pull behind my belly button became sharper and sharper, orgasm close as I shook in Copia’s arms.

“Who do you belong to, Sorella?” Copia hissed in my ear, gripping my hips tightly and holding me still as my thighs clenched against Terzo’s. I whined, so close to my orgasm I felt my cunt clench painfully, which earned me a sharp spank on my ass. 

“Y-you…you both.” I panted in his ear as his hand curled up to tilt me to look up at his hooded eyes. They were dark and possessive, my heart thrumming in my chest at the look he was giving me. “Only you two.”

Terzo’s thigh slipped further between my legs and I hissed at the feeling of the silk sliding between my legs, but I felt Copia groan behind me. He ground his hips forward against my ass and I knew Terzo had managed to graze his knee against Copia’s cock, the wicked grin on his face giving him away. 

“Let her have her reward, Cardinale. She has been a very good girl, no?” Terzo argued for me, a sly smile on his face as he rocked forwards against us with the pulse of the music. 

Both Copia and I writhing against one another, I was panting as my hands came to grip Terzo’s collar. I tugged his lips to mine roughly, tongue slipping into his mouth as he slipped a hand into my ponytail and tugged on it playfully. I gasped, sucking his tongue into my mouth and matching my playful flicks of my tongue to the beat of the music. Copia meanwhile was back to guiding me against Terzo’s thigh, grinding his cock against my ass with every rock of my hips. Between the liquor in my veins and the heady feeling on the dance floor I was so close, trembling while I was pinned between my lovers. 

“P-please.” I begged, lips grazing against Terzo’s as Copia leaned forward and teasingly ran his teeth against my pulse point. “I-I can’t…”

“Be a good girl, Sorella. Vieni per tuo Papa e il Cardinale.” Terzo crooned, hand coming to take over on my hips. He rocked me faster against his thigh as he rocked against me. 

“Sì Sorella, vieni per le tue consorti.” Yes Sister, come for your mates Copia’s voice was gruff as he groaned against me, sinking his teeth into my pulse point as I came undone in their arms. 

Terzo pressed his lips to mine as I cried out in bliss, swallowing the sounds as I arched and rocked through my aftershocks in their arms. I felt boneless as I floated there, swaying vaguely with the bass. Both men chuckled as they murmured sweet words of affection in my ear, pressing gentle kisses into my overly sensitive skin. As the pulse of my heart began to return to normal, Terzo slipped his leg from between mine. I stumbled slightly, Copia catching me and I smiled reassuringly. 

“Amore…my pants…” Terzo caught my wrist to catch my attention. I looked back at him puzzled for a moment, he was laughing hysterically as pointed to a dark stain on his upper thigh. “Now I will constantly smell like you per la sera.”

My face was bright red and before I could say anything Terzo was distracted by the bottle service girl, who was coming to see if we needed another round. I leaned to Copia who had his hand steady on the small of my back. 

“I-I have to go to the bathroom,” I called, leaning back against him to shout in his ear. “I’ll be right back. Order me another rum and coke?”

“Of course, but I think we will need to head back soon. I for one would like to get some sleep before Imperator and the older Emeritus family members arrive.” Copia said before leaning closer to me. “Besides, I have plans for you when we get back to the Monastery, si?”

That was all the motivation I needed to get my ass in gear, an excited smile on my face as I nodded enthusiastically. 

“I’ll meet you by the door in five minutes? You wrangle Terzo.”

“Four minutes, and if you are not there I will come looking for you.” 

“Oh, is that a threat, Cardinal?” I teased, tugging on his shirt collar before he snatched my hand, pressing a kiss to the inside of my wrist. 

“È una promessa, Amato…”

…

I felt like I had been waiting in line forever, but finally I was able to use the bathroom. I had freshened up as best I could after grinding against Terzo’s thigh and a thrill went up my spine as I stepped out of the woman’s bathroom and into the long dark red hallway. 

At first there wasn’t anyone as I shuffled my way down the corridor but when I came towards the bend before the short opening to the main club I had to stumble backwards slightly or I would have slammed into a pair of guys who were blocking the hallway.

“E-excuse me.” I stumbled slightly, not trusting the way they were looking at me.

They looked to be in their early to mid twenties, both dressed in black dress suits. One had dark hair, long and pulled into a bun at the nape of his neck; the other had short sandy blond hair. Both were looking at me like I was their next meal and they hadn’t eaten in a few days.

“Una bella ragazza come te non dovrebbe perdere tempo con un paio di vecchietti come loro.” The dark haired one spoke first, leaning on the wall in an attempt to look sexy that just reminded me of a movie villain.

“I-I’m sorry I don’t speak Italian.” I spoke, my tone slightly wobbly as I sobered quickly and fear settled into my veins like ice

My hands were shaking slightly as I tried to peek around them to see if anyone was coming this way. Copia had said if I took too long he would come looking for me, surely it was longer than five minutes right? I realized they were still speaking with me and I looked back at them

“He said why you bother with them, you need someone young to take care of your needs, eh?” The light hair one purred at me, taking a step towards me. I took a step back and tried to not corner myself so I could run back to the woman’s bathroom if I needed too. 

“I don’t need anyone to take care of my needs, I’m all set.” I hissed, standing up straight and glaring at them both. Neither of them seemed put off by my attempts to deny them what they wanted.

“Come Principessa, let me show you what a young man can do better si?” The dark hair one spoke again, moving more towards me. 

I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as my back just barely brushed against the back wall. I could see down the hall to where the bathroom was and nobody had come out yet, someone would come out right? I could feel the lump forming in my throat as I thought about screaming. 

“I said I’m all set.” I snapped, slapping away the blond one’s hand as he attempted to snag my wrist. 

“I even ignore the fucked up eye. Unless it is a contact, no?” The dark haired one purred, smirking as his hand reached out to cup my cheek. I slapped his hand away too, mind reeling as I thought about the best escape route.

“Leave me the fuck alone.” I hissed, attempting to shove past them and down the hall to the main area of the club where I could at least attempt to get help or find my companions. 

“Come, do not put up a fight, uccellino.” He chuckled darkly, the blond one doing the same. His hands brushed against my upper arm in a soothing motion and I flinched away from him. 

“Don’t touch me!” I spat, side stepping them both with a furious look on my face. “If you try and touch me again you will regret it.”

“You put up this much fight for the old timers?” He joked, stepping with me to block my path. “Beautiful girl like you deserves better, no?”

“They are twice the men you boys will ever be.” I spat at him, he opened his mouth leaning in to speak to me again but I heard another voice in the hall.

“Credo che la signora abbia chiesto di essere lasciata in pace, ragazzi…” I believe the lady asked to be left alone, fellas...

Terzo’s voice felt like a lifeline and I had to hold back the sob that hung in my throat as the two men stepped slightly towards him. I could see him standing only a few feet away, a predatory gleam in his eyes and a wicked smirk on his face. 

“Vaffanculo, nonno. Nessuno ti ha chiesto di essere coinvolto qui.” Fuck you, grandpa. Nobody asked you to get involved here. The dark haired one spat, as he stepped towards Terzo.

“Sfortunatamente per te, il fatto che tu stia minacciando la mia amata significa che in realtà devo farmi coinvolgere.” Unfortunately for you, the fact that you are threatening my beloved means I do in fact have to get involved . Terzo sighed dramatically, winking at me before turning to the two younger men.

“Amato? Che cazzo, da dove vieni?” Beloved? What the fuck, where did you even come from?

Terzo ignored them and held his hand out to me, nodding comforting as I stepped around the two men and towards my companion. “Come, Sorella.”

“Sorella? She your Sister?!” The blond one said, horrified look on his face as he looked at Terzo and I. 

“She is my paramore, my Sister of Sin. My Prime Mover. You will show her respect.” He spoke, eyes dark and white iris flashing dangerously. I snatched his hand and started to pull him away from the men, desperate to get out of there and grab a few drinks for the road. 

“Sorella del peccato? Oh, sei uno di quei pazzi satanisti, vero?” Sister of Sin? Oh you're one of those crazy Satanists aren't you?

I didn’t know what came over me, a rage so strong I could taste the copper on my tongue as I whipped around and my furious gaze locked on them. 

“Do not speak to Papa Emeritus the Third like that…or of Lucifer.” I spat, my head starting to hum on the edge of a headache. “You will not speak of our Dark Lord like that again, or mark my words you will lose your tongue.”

“What could you possibly do about it?” The boys laughed and I clenched my fists.

“Amore…” Terzo’s voice cut through the low buzzing sound I felt in my head but I couldn’t get the rage to dissipate. Another voice slipped into the fray, one I could have sworn I’d heard before.

Protect my flock…heed my power, Prime Mover…

“I-I will…” I mumbled, Terzo fixing me with an odd look as I took two steps towards the boys. 

“Ah you finally make your decision, uccellino?” One asked, a smirk on his face. I smiled sweetly.

“I did.” I purred as I pressed my hands together in mock prayer. “Nema.”

I knew something was up by the way their eyes widened in fear, both taking a small step backwards. It wasn’t till the buzzing sound filtered away that I heard the unearthly growl from behind me. Looking over my shoulder I felt my heart spudder as I realized what I had allowed to happen.

“Sorella…what did you do?”

“I’m protecting our flock, Terzo.” I mumbled, dazed and stepped back towards him as an unmasked ghoul slid forward between the men and I. 

Carefully I reached forward, putting a hand on the ghouls shoulder and spoke softly to them. Their head whipped around to look at me with wide glowing eyes. Part of me was terrified but another understood that this ghoul would never hurt me; unmasked or not. 

“Your name is multi-ghoul, you will serve me, yes?”

“Yes, your eminence.” Their voice was rough as they materialized a mask, a silver one like all the ghouls had, and pulled it on to cover their face. “I am yours…”

“See boys? Lucifer shares his power with all who ask, as long as they are deserving…” I crooned, tilting my head as they looked at me like I had lost it. Maybe I had, I felt drunk on power I didn’t quite understand just yet. The multi ghoul growled as he crouched low and close to me, protective stance. 

“Omega…” Terzo called softy, the low lighting in the hallway flickering slightly before another ghoul materialized next to us. The boys were shaking in fear now but I ignored their eyes. “Please escort this new ghoul back to the monastery, si?”

“Yes Papa.” Omega spoke, their voice deep and level as they put a hand on the newest ghoul. My ghoul, I shuttered as I felt what was clearly anxiety but not my own. Multi was looking back at me with primal fear in their eyes, I nodded calmly.

“It’s alright. You’re safe with us now…” I tried to reassure them, smiling and nodding as Terzo put his hand on my shoulder. “As soon as I can I’ll come find you, okay?”

They nodded at me before looking and growling at the outsiders before Omega whisked them both away in a void of black. The two boys who had tried to take advantage of me were shaking and looking back and forth between Terzo and I. They scrambled, shoving each other as they tried to slide around us. 

“Do remember next time you try to mess with us Satanists, boys! Some of us have a direct line to the big man.” I chuckled, pointing to my white iris. “Some of us are his favorites…”

Without another pause they booked it out of the hall, leaving Terzo and I standing there staring at each other. His chest was heaving and he looked almost furious…almost. I blushed bright red, ringing my hands together and looking away from him. 

“I-I’m sorry I don’t know what came over me I-!” I started before Terzo spun me and slammed my back into the wall before crashing his lips against mine. 

I gasped at his rough handling of me, back arching off the wall as he drove his tongue into my parted lips and teased my own. He pressed his entire body weight into me, taking my wrists and pinning them above my head so I couldn’t escape him. I whimpered into our furious kisses as he slipped his leg between mine again and I rocked against him. I moaned and rolled my body against his as his free hand gripped my hip so tight I thought I would bruise for sure. 

“I lose you both for one minute and this is how I find you…” Copia’s voice made me jump, pulling back from Terzo’s aggressions and blushing bright red. 

“Copia I-” I started to speak but Terzo put a hand over my mouth, silencing me. I pushed against his grip on my wrists but he was stronger than he looked and I ended up just glaring at him as he spoke to Copia.

“Non so come abbia fatto, ma la sorella ha evocato un ghoul.” I don't know how she did it, but Sister summoned a ghoul.

“Un demone? Senza alcun aiuto rituale?! Ma non è…” A ghoul? Without any ritual help at all?! But that's not…

“Possibile? Lo so, eppure l'ha fatto lo stesso. Avremmo dovuto discutere del segno di favore prima di fare qualsiasi altra cosa.” Possible? I know and yet she did it just the same. We should have discussed the mark of favor before doing anything else.

“Sai che dovremo dirlo a Saltarian, vero? Per non parlare di Imperator, si?” You know we'll have to tell Saltarian about this, right? Not to mention Imperator, yes?

“La festa è finita, vero?” The party is over isn't it?

“Afraid so, Papa.” Copia sighed before looking at me, a smirk on his face but serious in his eyes. “You, Topolino, are going to have quite a lot of explaining to do when we get back to the Monastery.”

Terzo took his hands off my mouth and wrists and I couldn’t help but pout as we walked from the club.

“I would have thought that of all people, you two would have thought the fact I summoned my own ghoul was cool…” I knew I must have looked childish as I slid into the SUV that was waiting for us, sitting in the middle of the back seat. 

“Sorella…” Copia started before Terzo took my chin and tilted it towards him. 

“It was one of the sexiest things I have seen you do, Amore, and I have seen quite a bit.” He chuckled, I blushed and looked away slightly. “However, ghouls of this nature…they are supposed to be summoned in a controlled environment.”

“What do you mean by this nature?” I questioned, Terzo looked over to Copia with a question in his eyes. The Cardinal sighed before taking my hands and pulling my attention to him. 

“When one is given a mark of devotion, there is a trade that is made so to speak.” He sighed. “You give Lucifer proof of loyalty, one that all can see whenever you open your eyes, as a gift he gives you someone just as loyal to you. Your own ghoul.”

“But the church has so many, surely not everyone has their own.” I pushed. 

“True, many of the ghouls that are summoned are done by the clergy or even the current Papa for the Ghost Project. But for senior clergy, it is a final test of loyalty.” Copia spoke, eyes almost unfocused as he looked at me. “But for some like…Papa, his brothers and…because of the mark of loyalty…”

“We have our own personal ghouls, Amore.” Terzo finished, a small encouraging smile. “It is something that comes normally after a rite of ascension, so you are skipping steps here.”

“You had called for a ghoul named Omega…is he yours, Terzo?”

“He is. He is part of the Ghost Project too, but he is my true companion ghoul. He feels as I feel, I feel his feelings sometimes too.”

“And you Copia? Who is your ghoul?”

Copia’s face turned dark and he wouldn’t look at me, stumbling and muttering something before Terzo took over for him. 

“Ah, the Cardinale…he…well…he was unable to summon his ghoul at his rite of ascension.”

“O-oh.” Was all I could reply, longing to reach out to Copia but he refused to look at either of us. The rest of our ride back to the Monastery was silent, all of us tangled with our thoughts. 

When we pulled into the side driveway, the sun was already coming up. Some siblings were starting on the earliest morning chores, receiving the daily delivery of food and supplies when we stepped from the SUV and made our way inside and back to our rooms. I wasn’t sure if it was the looks on Terzo and I’s face or the waves of anger and hurt pouring off of Copia but nobody stopped us the whole way. 

“I am going to go lay down in the other room.” Copia said simply, pausing to press a kiss to my temple. “Congratulations, Amore. I am very proud of you.”

“Y-you aren’t going to come sleep with us?” I asked, a lump forming slightly in my throat as I spoke. 

“No, Topolino. I need some time, si?” He smiled softly but it didn’t reach his eyes as he slipped from my reach, down the other hall and into one of the spare bedrooms. 

I felt the tears beginning to pool in my eyes as Terzo led me towards our bedroom. 

“Come Tesoro, let me get you ready for bed, si?” He sighed as I nodded sharply, fighting the tears back. “The Cardinale? He is…sensitive about this, yes?”

“I-I didn’t know…”

“I know, he knows this too. He just needs some time, Amore.” Terzo sighed sadly, as he helped me sit on the edge of the bed. “Come, let me help you get out of these clothes.”

He tugged my boots off my sore feet, tossing them to the side and helping to pull the latex dress off me. As he handed me my nightgown, I pulled it over my head and clenched my fists. 

“If you need to cry, then cry, Sorella. It will not help to hold it in.” He whispered as he came over to me with a wet hand towel, dabbing at the remnants of makeup on my face. 

I felt a few tears slide down my cheeks but I refused to let them flow freely, shaking my head like a child. Terzo sighed again but finished helping me take off my makeup, letting my hair down from its ponytail and tucking me into bed. I watched him from my spot in the middle as he took all his own clothes off, wiping his own face with the same towel he wiped mine off with before sitting on the edge of the bed and tossing his jewelry onto the side table. 

He slipped under the covers with me, wearing only his underwear and gave me a small smile with his arms open wide. “Vieni qui, mio amato.”

I wriggled forward into his arms, burying my face into his chest and inhaling the scent that was so uniquely him. Even as he rubbed my back a small part of me longed for the warmth of Copia settling in to sleep behind me. I felt my throat constrict as I tried to form the words to speak.

“W-will he always be upset with me about this?” I whispered as I wrapped my arms around Terzo.

“I do not think so, Amore, but I cannot say for sure when he will move on from this…”

It was then I felt the dam I had built up over the last few months of everything going on crack and as one tear became two, more and more leaks appeared in the dam till I was openly sobbing in Terzo’s arms. He shushed me and soothed me as best he could, his hands running up and down my back but I was so pent up and exhausted I couldn’t stop crying. Eventually I did drift off, the soft sound of Terzo humming in my ear soothing me enough to let the exhaustion of the whole trip catch up to me. 

[lazulisong]

i have had genuinely the stupidest customer service experience i have ever had in my life.

when i got run over in january, the runner overer gave us his info but i never put a claim in because workers comp paid for everything

either SAIF sent them a request for reimbursement or someone found a file shoved somewhere, because about a week and a half ago GEICO became aware that i existed and one of their customers was responsible for me spending a very unpleasant evening waiting for x-rays

oh shit, said GEICO, we should probably give this person money so they don't sue us

after an elaborate and exhausting game of phone tag, they offered me money and i accepted it

the agent forgot to get my email address

the agent then failed to answer or, apparently, listen to the voicemail where i was like "hey did you guys need my email? here it is just in case" OR multiple messages like "hey i was unfortunately raised a lady so i won't say 'what the fuck happened to that email with deposit directions' but i sure mean that"

i also messaged their twitter support who swore an agent would reach out. they did not.

i reach one of her coworkers instead of her. he informs me that since they didn't have my email, they have sent a paper check. i did not say "in the year of our agony 2023, you sent me a PAPER CHECK?"

i get a guilty follow up message from the original agent, which i do not return

on monday, the check comes. "oh boy!" you are thinking, "now the saga concludes!!!"

hahahaha HAHAHA haha

i deposit the check via mobile

USBANK, with no notice or explanation, puts a hold on the funds, not the regular one! the entire caboodle

i not unnaturally go to my local branch on my lunch break and ask the very nice cashier what was going on

(i got to pet a retriever puppy, the only thing that saved my temper)

cashier calls their service line. service line informs her that the check is on hold until. april 11.

there was no notice or note in the mobile app OR the cashiers program to note this

i realize another GEICO agent had left me a voicemail (i think i got kicked upstairs) and i call her back like "well it can't hurt"

she then proceeds to spend twenty minutes conference calling USBANK to figure out what happened

fraud guy: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ we didn't think it was real ig sorry about the trouble also lol no we can't release the hold! why would we do that?

me: ಠ_ಠ

this agent literally had to request a stop payment on the paper check and get my email address (finally) to send me the direct deposit instructions

success! but in the most irritating way possible

if i think about how if only the initial agent had fucking remembered to get my email OR check her messages i could have not spent the time i did dealing with it, my eye starts spasming again

[silkjade]

tagged by @lychniis to do this little wip game ! LOL i think this will help me organize my stuff cus they are all over the place here + in google docs rules: post the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! tag as many people as you have wips!

A LOVE LIKE WINTER ⤀ scaramouche x reader | the first time you meet each other again after the events of sumeru aq. this was actually meant to be a SHORT drabble but it kinda ended up getting a little long and perhaps even a bit philosophical oopsie !

GENSHIN MEN AS WEDDING DATES (4) ⤀ ft. neuvillette, wriothesley, lyney, baizhu, gorou | i know gorou is random here but i forgot him in the other parts and am making it up now lolz tbh i haven't written hcs like this in a hot sec 'n it is a bit hard to come up with stuff now T^T

KISS OF LIFE / HYDRO DRAGON & THE 7 MELUSINES ⤀ neuvillette x reader | so these are two alternate titles. obv the second one is cuter but i m afraid there are not seven melusines + hydro dragon and the five melusines doesn't sound quite right ; \

TIE MY HEART STRINGS ⤀ alhaitham x reader | selfship jadetham lore series that would be written as x reader so everyone can enjoy ^^

MERMAID AU N’SFW MIRROR SEX ⤀ alhaitham x mermaid!reader | mermaid au ! self explanatory title that is definitely subject to change. this is planned for mermay tho lolz

UNTITLED N'SFW ⤀ dainsleif x reader | i'm gonna be so honest the wicked dragon neuvi smut was originally a dain smut but um... :'D i do have a different premise though and it is pre-cataclysm khaenri'ah royalcore leaning selfship coded ahhahahhah

UNTITLED VAMPIRE!READER ⤀ diluc x reader | help this was a request from over a year ago that i started but ran out of inspie for because nonnie requested a few characters & i didn't have enough ideas

BASOREXIA PT 2 ⤀ thoma x reader | honestly this was like 90% finished but then i decided that i hated it and forgot about it for like a year

UNTITLED ⤀ ayato x reader | this is a wip IN MY HEAD ! did not even write down yet but it’s like modern au (maybe) and is meant to be bittersweet but i do not know if i have the capacity to write this as a one shot cus i def don’t want to make it a series but the hypothetical elements make it lean that way >.<

open tags to whoever is wanting to talk abt their wips !

[ladytauria]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @zeroducks-2! thank you <3

How many works do you have on AO3?

90 total, with 8 of them for my original fiction pseud.

What’s your total A03 word count?

266,163. however, i like to subtract 2 of the original works i wrote, 'cause most of the writing is no longer canon to the project it was written for xD so, 198,925. still impressive!

What fandoms do you write for?

whatever fandom i'm obsessed with at the moment.

in the past, that's been super robot monkey team hyper force go!; how to train your dragon; ghost hunt; percy jackson & the olympians; legend of zelda; and ducktales (2017). there are a few other fandoms but those works never left my drafts xD

currently, it's DCU, & mostly bats at that <3

What are your top five fics by kudos?

in a diner at midnight (1,161 kudos) -> first story in my reverse robins series, as well as the first batfic i ever published lol. Tim catches Jason stealing the Batmobile's tires after he was sent back to the car, and does what any good Robin would: laugh his ass off and then buy him dinner.

you know just what i need (1,158 kudos) -> Tim is an omega. Jason is an alpha. Jason likes him, but he knows he blew his chances at being with Tim years ago. That changes, after he finds out that Tim has experienced a string of rejections, as he prefers to dominate alphas in bed. Jason is... entirely unopposed to this.

early confrontations (814) -> another part of the reverse robins series. When Jason finds out that Tim might be alive and operating as the Red Hood, he decides the best course of action is to break into his apartment.

inquiring minds (794) -> the only non-DC fic on this list. Ducktales (2017). Penumbra wants to know how Donald didn't burn up in Earth's atmosphere.

held together (792) -> another part of the reverse robins series. After Bruce accuses Jason of killing Garzonas, he goes to Tim for comfort.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

There for a while I was only responding if someone had a question, but now I do try to respond more, even if just to say thank you, or send back a heart emoji in return xD

What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmmm. I don't write a lot of unhappy endings xD But "empty promises" is probably the angstiest ending I've written. Maybe "twenty to one."

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmm…

Edit: I didn’t realize I forgot to finish answering this one!! Most of my fics end happily so I’m not sure which one has the happiest 🤔 I will have to look through and edit again with a proper answer lmao

Do you get hate on your fic?

Not in a while. Only once on AO3. Twice on FFN. Some people weren't very happy I wrote genderfluid Link :) And then prior to that-- I mean. It was hate, I guess, but it was more funny than anything else. Guest account was upset at the length of my oneshot collection entries and started advertising for a date, lmao. Ah, trolls.

Do you write smut?

Yes. Usually with feelings, and on occasion, with plot.

Do you write crossovers?

Hmm, I have had a conversation about crossing over my first fandom with DC, but idk if that will ever actually leave my drafts ^^;

That said, I do like the idea of writing fusions?

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No.

Have you ever co-written a fic?

Not in a very long time! And the two I was co-writing never did get finished, lol.

What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

I hop fandoms and multi-ship too much to have an "all-time" favorite ship. But currently I vibe hardest with JayTim.

What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Hmm...

So I tend to either plod along at WIPs until they're either finished or I've moved fandoms xD Every now and then I will scrap one, but for the most part, there's a pretty good chance of me finishing the fics I start.

That said...

I don't know exactly what the problem is, but I've been having a really difficult time working on the tenderest of touches. Stray!Tim x Hood!Jason teaming up to kill the Joker, and as they're waiting for their plans to come to fruition, they end up having lots of ill-advised kinky sex... which slowly causes their feelings for each other to deepen and reveal themselves.

There are also some identity shenanigans, as Jason never learned Tim's secret ID and Tim has no idea that Hood is his dead first crush :)

What’s your writing strengths?

I think I'm good at conveying emotion. I also think I do alright with dialogue :) And, hm, metaphors / imagery?

What’s your writing weaknesses?

Character voice. Not so much in dialogue, but in the prose? I tend to stick to 3rd Person Limited, and I feel like my personal writing voice tends to come out too strong & overwhelm the character's.

Endings. Sometimes I find the right one, but other times I meander for a while, or just. Decide to stop it at a certain point, which can be a little abrupt.

Juggling more than so many characters. This one hasn't shown up so much in DC fics because I don't think I've really written much with more than 3 characters, but that's about my limit. After that I end up forgetting people / certain characters end up kind of disappearing.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

A word here or two, yes. A couple of lines, maybe. But any more than that... not likely?

First fandom you wrote for?

Super Robot Monkey Team Hyper Force Go! An old Disney cartoon from the early 00s. It was... mecha-anime adjacent, centering around a human and his five cybernetic monkey teammates trying to stop their planet from being (destroyed? ruined? corrupted?) by the Skeleton King.

Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Hmm...

Okay, actually my favorite fic I've written hasn't been posted yet. I was persuaded to make it longer and--well. I had ideas, so. That's what I'm doing :)

But of the ones I have posted...

It's a toss-up. Because like... I have two that I genuinely enjoy re-reading because (at least for the moment xD) I have no complaints. And then there are two I'm just. Genuinely proud of the concept and the outcome, even if there are areas I might want to fix, I think I did a good job anyway.

And then there's one that I'm genuinely just proud of finishing bc of how much trouble I had with it xD

Anyway. Um.

I'm gonna go with the two i enjoy re-reading the most---

drape me in your warmth // patience is a virtue (rewarded by sin)

no pressure tagging... @paprikadotmp4 // @kieran-granola // @generatorcat // @disniq // @enak-s // @glaciya

[tennessoui]

Omg pleasee do “Don’t be fucking rude.” for kuwtsk in honour of the iconic scene from the other keeping up with 🤣🤣🤣 (no one hitting each other with a bag though 😅).

hey hi!! hello!! this IS set in the KUWSK universe (ao3 tag here) in honor of it breaking 800 (!!!!!!!) kudos on ao3 and also yes it's just an iconic line from the Kardashian show lol

so this original draft (no written words just me thinking in my mind and coming up with dialogue and text) had it be a story where one of the twins (10 years old) tells the other twin "don't be fucking rude" and KUWSK obikin freak out and point fingers at each other because well I know for sure I DID NOT teach the child that word so YOU must have taught the child that word!!!

and they go on and on and fight very pettily about who cursed in front of the baby and WHOEVER did it should just ADMIT IT because the more times anakin sleeps on the couch the crankier he gets (obi-wan is allowed the bed because he has a bad back and anakin still loves him even if he taught his kid how to say fuck)

and then it's padmé who said it around them by accident while on a business call.

BUT i JUST wrote a KUWSK fight so even though i love writing them petty and dickish towards each other, this happened instead:

(1.8k)

Obi-Wan is in the kitchen making the twins hot cocoa.

It’s a bit of a complicated process, seeing as how Leia thinks she’s lactose intolerant because her best friend at school is, so now she’ll only drink coconut milk and soy milk. Luke hates coconut milk with a strange sort of passion that only ten year olds who have recently come around to the concept of liking and disliking things can.

Leia is not lactose intolerant, but Anakin figures they should respect her dietary wishes and Obi-Wan agrees.

But they’re out of soy milk. So instead of whisking milk to simmering temperatures in one pot, he’s got one pot on the left eye of the stove and the other on the right eye and two children on both of his legs.

Fuck, the milks look the same.

Which one was the coconut again?

He’d try it himself, but he’s allergic to tree nuts. Surely he put the coconut milk in the pot to his right. Right? That’s the leg that Leia is clinging to, so it makes sense that that would be the decision he made.

Which would mean the left pot would contain the 2% milk that Luke favors.

Right?

Damnit.

With his free hand, he texts Anakin. Anakin love, will you stop at the store and pick up some soy milk?

The response rushes back immediately. My plane literally just landed.

Congratulations! He texts, adding the cocoa powder to both milks before they start to curdle. Now, about that milk…?

Did you even cook dinner? For your starving husband who has toiled away for the last week in order to put bread on the table? Anakin’s fingers must be flying across his keyboard.

I’m sure you did a lot of toiling in the harsh sun and ocean paradise of Scariff.

It was a work trip, Anakin replies. Obi-Wan sniffs. His work trips have never been nicer than a two day stint to Alderaan for a conference, lodgings not included.

Tech companies. 

Instead of picking up that thread of bickering, he adds the smallest amount of cinnamon and vanilla. The twins like the Healthy Living brand best, he texts his husband.

Obi-Wan, I’ve been grocery shopping for them for ten years, Anakin texts back. You’ve done it MAYBE ten times.

This is fair criticism. But also, The last time I went you threatened to throw the tomatoes I lovingly chose at my head.

They were bruised! You picked the ones from the bottom of the pile! Why! 

This is an age-old argument that Obi-Wan could have in his sleep. I thought the best tomatoes were the ones that weren’t exposed to light!!

THAT’S POTATOES BABY!!!!

“What are you smiling at, Obi?” Leia asks. 

“Just your daddy being silly,” he tells her after sending a text that says you forgot the comma, baby.

Anakin sends back a winking emoji and a Sorry,,,,,Professor,,,,,,, and Obi-Wan is in love all over again.

Soy milk, he texts back before pocketing his phone.

Now the most pressing question: would it be better to give the maybe-coconut-milk-maybe-regular to Luke or to Leia? Luke would surely kick up a fuss if he has to taste coconut. Like Leia’s lactose intolerance, a disease that can appaarently be transmitted through close contact, Luke has discovered a new and sudden deadly allergy to tree nuts that matches Obi-Wan’s perfectly.

But Leia will throw up a huge stink as well, if she doesn’t get the coconut milk.

And Anakin is thirty minutes away, probably an hour if he really did just land.

Obi-Wan turns off the flames and strokes his beard thoughtfully. As always when he’s stuck in a situtaion he doesn’t quite know how to solve, he thinks about what the greatest parent he’s ever known would do.

It’s of little help this time. Anakin would probably just point and laugh at him, because his husband’s propensity to be an asshole sometimes outweighs his natural parenting talent.

“Alright, darlings,” he decides. The truth is neither of the children are actually allergic to tree nuts or dairy. If he gets it wrong, he can correct the mistake instantly by just switching the cups. It’ll just be a bit of complaining, but it’s not like anyone’s life is really in danger. 

Carefully, he pours both pots into plastic souvenir mugs (the kids are too old to not find sippy cups offensive, but that doesn’t mean Obi-Wan trusts them to not accidentally shatter glass and then cut themselves to death on it by accident). “Who wants whipped cream?”

Leia apparently tolerates the lactose in the whipped cream. “My body is very smart,” she had said primly, when Anakin had pointed out the dairy content of a can of whipped cream to her a few weeks ago.

Obi-Wan thinks it’s because it looks very fun and Luke always requests extra. Luke will request sprinkles if he thinks he’s been good enough to deserve them.

He hasn’t yet figured out that Obi-Wan always gives him sprinkles if he asks. This is probably for the better.

He sets the hopefully coconut milk hot chocolate in front of Leia, whose eyes light up at the bright red mug. Luke is similarly excited for his shockingly pink one, piled high with whipped cream and made with (hopefully) 2% milk.

—---

Obi-Wan is wrong.

An hour and thirteen minutes later, he’s still hearing about it. Not directed at him, of course. The twins know better than to be so openly rude to their Obi, who they know will probably cry about it or stop giving them treats when Anakin is looking away. But that doesn’t mean they haven’t shut up about the pros and cons of coconut milk and cow milk since.

Obi-Wan had even offered to run to the store himself and get soy milk, seeing as how Anakin is taking his sweet time coming home himself. Obi-Wan’s last hope in the entire universe is that their daddy’s arrival home will snap them out of the petty bickering, because Obi-Wan is going to pull out his hair.

He’s moved rooms three times now. They just keep following him.

“Coconut head!” Luke tells Leia. It’s admittedly very rude, but Leia has taken to mooing at him every time he says anything at all, so Obi-Wan doesn’t know who really has the high ground of maturity here.

“Children, please,” Obi-Wan rubs at his forehead. This is all very frustrating, especially because it’s his mistake and he knows Anakin would never have made such a mistake, but Obi-Wan has not been sleeping well. For the first time in years, his bed is too big. 

He’s lonely. Anakin has been gone for too long and now he’s going to come back to his old husband near tears as one child probably swears off animal products for good while the other decides to become a carnivore, and—

“Husband! Children! I am home!” Anakin calls from the entryway, and Obi-Wan is not ashamed at all for how fast he rushes to throw his arms around him in a tight embrace.

“Fuck Scariff,” he murmurs fervently into his husband’s neck, pushing him up against the wall by the mirror. “Never do that again.”

Anakin laughs, sounding slightly breathless and smelling of travel, and bends his head down to kiss the only part of Obi-Wan he can reach: his ear. “Need I remind you that you’re the one who led that month-long study abroad?”

“I understand now,” Obi-Wan promises, nuzzling further, closer. “That was stupid of me. The twins are trying to kill me. Will you love me when my hair isn’t red anymore? I’ll be gray-headed by the time they’re sixteen.”

“You’re in luck,” Anakin tells him, pushing him away enough so that he can tuck a loose bit of hair behind his ears worshipfully. “I think the idea of you as a silver fox is really sexy.”

Obi-Wan kisses him. It’s a miracle the twins haven’t interrupted them yet, so while they’re busy, he takes his hello kiss with both hands gripped firmly in Anakin’s traveling coat and his mouth open wide.

“Baby,” Anakin pants when they separate. “Baby, I have to tell you something.”

“What?” Obi-Wan breathes back. Anakin makes him feel so many things. So many twisted, beautiful, wonderful things, that sometimes it’s hard to think straight.

“Baby,” his husband tells him solemnly, pushing him back with one hand so he can bring whatever he’s holding in his right hand up to eye level. “You’re my soy-lmate.”

Obi-Wan blinks at the carton of soy milk in his husband’s hand and then back at Anakin. “Are you late getting home because you stopped and googled soy puns in the parking lot of the grocery store?”

“It was our driveway, but yes. Ab-soy-lutely.”

“I’m never sleeping with you again,” Obi-Wan marvels, taking a step away. “This is the death of all things holy and divine.”

“That’s so sweet, baby, you see heaven when I touch you? And never soy never, I think I’m quite convincing.”

Obi-Wan wants to throttle his husband. “I can’t believe I had good news I wanted to tell you. Too bad we have to get a divorce now.”

Anakin pouts. Obi-Wan wants to kiss it off him because the man is ridiculous but he’s his and he’s going to be his forever. Death do them part, etcetera etcetera etcetera.

“Don’t be fucking rude,” Anakin says, roping him back into his arms and leaning back against the doorway. “I got you the soy milk. Give me a proper hello.” “In the hallway?” Obi-Wan replies in a murmur. The kids are yelling in the background, and there are noises that should be concerning, the banging of things and loud crashes. But Anakin is here, in his arms. “I expected soy much better from you.”

He can feel Anakin’s grin against the side of his neck when the man buries his face there, arms tightening.

“What’s the good news?” He asks, pressing a single, delicate kiss on his neck. “You’re killing me here, Kenobi.”

“Kenobi-Skywalker,” Obi-Wan corrects absently, running his fingers through the blond curls he loves so dearly, it might just kill him one day. He thinks about the children he loves beyond all words in the other room. He thinks about the papers on the table, the ones sent from the agency, the ones telling them that they’ve been approved for adoption. He thinks about the man in his arms, so trusting and beautiful and perfect. He thinks dying from love isn’t the worst way to go.

“Kenobi-Skywalker,” Anakin repeats worshipfully, like he agrees even though he doesn’t know anything at all about the papers just yet. “Wait—” he tenses and then pulls back, frown marring his face. “Why is our daughter mooing?”

Obi-Wan sighs, reality rushing back into their bubble. He separates them completely and grabs the soy milk from Anakin’s lax hands. “Anakin love, when she’s mooing, she’s your daughter."

[maliscanis]

AUTHOR PORTRAIT

Get to know the author behind the blog! Repost, do not reblog.

Basics

NAME: Nav AGE: ... old. PRONOUNS: He/His/They YEARS OF WRITING: It started in 2002 probably and I never recovered. I've had some off and on moments, but it began picking up again a few years ago when I started getting back into the fandom-y swing of things.

Reflection

WHY DID YOU PICK UP WRITING? I had stupid little stories in my brain and wanted to tell them. I read my first fanfic in a fandom that will not be disclosed back in 2002, and have gone through my highs and lows. Decided I really wanted to be an author when I was fourteen. Still want to, and I'm working on my debut novel right now. DO YOU HAVE ANY WRITING ROUTINES? I like to say I want to write at least 200 words a day, but... uh. Well. I have ADHD and depression and that doesn't always work out. I write pretty well in the morning. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE PART ABOUT WRITING? Making people go AAAA. Discovering things that the characters do that I didn't ever expect or plan on. I really like that part. But the most rewarding thing will always be someone telling me I touched them in some way.

Three things you like about your writing

This is high key difficult for me, esp as an RPer who's a little rusty. But I'll try?

Prose: I think I'm a pretty dab hand at prose. I can be guilty of some repetition in the moment, especially when I'm excited and writing fast, but by and large I am very proud of the way I can set a scene or convey emotions. AU's: I think I come up with some pretty kickass AU's, or ways to adapt things. You should see what I came up with re:Gallagher when my brain was buzzing over the 2.1 ending. Since it all turned out to be completely incorrect, I'm shoving it into an original story. Atmosphere: I like to think I'm pretty good at building the atmosphere of a scene. IDK how good, I'd have to ask around, but I like to think I can make things spooky or light and toggle the mood to suit the situation. Admittedly, this may mostly go to my original writing.

A question for the next person

Do you have a certain type of muse you enjoy writing? (no one saw me forgot to answer and leave the old one) I apparently constantly pick up disaster bisexuals with private detective vibes. Like if they are a Hot Mess I'm probably going to gravitate to them. It keeps happening. It never stops. A lot of heart of gold types. What is a muse you no longer write anymore and why have they been retried? Oobleck from RWBY. For those who don't know him, AUDHD mad professor, studies history, kicks ass, and tragically vanished from the storyline about five years ago and I've yet to cope. New Question: What's a character type you could not play ever?

TAGGED BY: @goldgambit TAGGING: saw it? Haven't done it? Do it. Because idk who hasn't yet LOL

[aprillikesthings]

moar rewatch

s1! ep2 and 3!

Bow's voice actor's work here is so good lolol

Nice work establishing that only Adora can do the transformation thing with the magic sword

Man someone on youtube has to have done one of those therapist deep-dives on their relationship. So much of their interactions are just painfully accurate for the way a kid reacts to an abusive parent--that combination of fear and resentment and still wishing you could make them happy, just once.

My family didn't have a golden child vs. scapegoat thing going on, though. I wonder if this is based on the writers' own experiences or if one of them read about that dynamic or had a therapist consulted or what

oof too real 😬

anyway Free Palestine

even cartoons know that murdering civilians and/or destroying their homes makes you the bad guy

There's some parallels here with kids who grew up in conservative/evangelical families realizing their family's politics and faith weren't based around Jesus at all but were based around bigotry and small-minded cruelty and knowing they have to leave, and knowing ND Stevenson's background I assume it's intentional

"You've known these people for, what, a couple of hours? and you're going to throw everything away for them?"

:( and to Catra, this just feels like a betrayal. There's a meta post somewhere way back in my tags that was like, from Catra's POV, Adora knew how shitty Shadow Weaver treated Catra and that wasn't enough to rebel and leave, but knowing Glimmer and Bow for a handful of hours was, and how much that had to hurt like hell, considering Catra put up with Shadow Weaver's abuse for so long in part to protect Adora and in part because it meant her and Adora were still together

Ugh this is why I love this show, Catra's actions are sometimes just awful but they make sense given what we know about her life, and right now she's just panicking and trying to hide it

And meanwhile Bow and Glimmer are like "actually we've decided we trust you :) can you be fancy sword lady again thanks!"

Like of course Adora is going to pick Bow and Glimmer and not Catra in that moment!!

"Is that....Adora?" "It's She-ra!"

Yeah that's not gonna be the source of weird "who the fuck even AM I" feelings later ha ha ha amiright

Also along with all the other weirdness of suddenly being bigger/different outfit etc, like, She-Ra is not only WAY stronger, but also knows how to fight in that body and with that sword. Like having muscle memory you didn't know you had. That's gotta be WEIRD. (I mean, there's also memories that clearly aren't hers, too)

Poor bb is scared, mad, and kinda turned on (shhhh I can headcanon whatever I want)

I called Yellow Diamond a clod, right to her face!!

("You made that joke the first time you saw this ep April" It's just a good joke okay!!)

OKAY EPISODE OVER

EP 3

Glimmer: everyone hates Horde soldiers but I think people will love you as She-Ra YOU JUST HAVE TO BE SHE-RA HA HA IT'LL BE FINE

Adora, internally: I'm only valuable/acceptable/lovable as long as I can be She-Ra, a person who isn't entirely me and that I don't know how to control and feel extremely weird about, got it

LOL I FORGOT HOW THEY GOT SWIFT WIND

whether the sword's edges are sharp or not is entirely dependent on whether someone needs it to be or not pffft

ouch

lol this would be such a wild cosplay to do

(a quick image google says the original is far more popular for cosplay; only a couple of people have done this version)

"Adora's gone, she's defected. And I'm starting to think she had the right idea!"

...okay how tempted do we think Catra actually was to just fucking leave.

Once again: intentional parallels to high-control religious groups

But the reference to Lord Hordak specifically also has shades of "Just wait until your father finds out what you did!" which is, uh, a little uncomfortably close to home ngl

DEEP SIGH

boy do I hate how familiar this is

I used to get so scared it would make my stomach hurt, and I'd shake the same way Catra does here, which sometimes made him angrier

jesus christ

okay how much of my love of Catra as a character is bc I can empathize with her in moments like this one (I was never as openly rebellious or back-talking as she is though; any disagreement got me screamed at)

I mean on the other hand Hordak is like "bitch, I know you've been doing this whole Golden Child/Scapegoat bullshit, so if your Golden Child fucked off and the Scapegoat is all you've got left then congrats that's on you, dumbass."

Catra thought she was gonna be murdered and instead she got a promotion

OKAY BUT ahahah oh god

IF Hordak had actually punished Catra or even threatened her in any way, I feel like Catra would, in fact, have left. There would be nothing left for her in the Horde, right? So why not leave?

But Hordak didn't promote Catra because he personally believes in her abilities, he did it to piss off Shadow Weaver. Then again maybe he knows that promoting Catra means she'll stay loyal.

Because it works, doesn't it. Oof. Catra wants to prove herself, dammit; and she's been given a shot at doing it, so she's staying.

Aaaugh.

OKAY that's 3 episodes out of 52. I think I'm done for today. No guarantees, though. Also there's no way I can do this for every single episode. >_<

[ramblinguitar]

Happy Saturday from your Secret Santa 🎅. I am doing well. How are you doing today?

And thank you! Hopefully this message is just as lovely 🥰.

In regards to Etsy, what made you decide to start selling on there, and what do you find to be your most popular items? My degree is in art, and I like to draw and paint, so I'm thinking handpainting items to sell on there. I just have to make a supply of thing haha.

I also see you like to write! I enjoy writing some too. What kind of things do you generally like to write about? And are your writings available anywhere to read?

I have a soft spot for Nirvana too from my high-school days. I listened to them alot. I know some Soundgarden songs, but admittedly, I haven't delved too deep into their catalog. That's something I know I should do though. Do you have any song recommendations by them?

What other kinds of hobbies do you have? Or things that just interest you in general?

Sorry about the plethora of questions I just dumped on you! I like asking questions 🤣

I will be stopping by again soon, and I hope you have an amazing day! 👋

Hello! I’m so sorry this took me a bit to get to (and no it isn’t too much at all! I thoroughly enjoy it, I wanted to give it time bc of the recs, and then I got busy, and forgot).

For Etsy - I’ve never had like a ‘best seller’, or anything. If one sold more than all the others, it would probably be the Loki one. It was intended for more of a pagan audience, but I’m pretty sure it’s mostly hit the marvel demographic 🤷‍♀️

I think that’s a wonderful idea! I’m also into art (wanted to go to college for it, but didn’t). What medium do you enjoy best? If you intend to sell your works, I’d start with a mix of prints and originals/canvas. And maybe a few stickers. Start with around twenty-twenty five items. Make sure you charge fairly! It can be challenging doing that, and feel like it’s ‘too much’, but you deserve to be paid fairly for your work and time. I’m speaking from experience on that because I didn’t charge properly at first, wanted to make them accessible to everyone as much as possible, and didn’t make enough to meet the cost of materials which I almost had to close the shop over.

I do! Writing has always been a passion of mine. I’d like to publish one day, if I can manage it. I have some works up on here! You can view @skohliwrites for a few poems and one short story. I have others under the #mywriting on this blog. If they don’t show up, let me know, I’d be happy to repost something for you, if you’d like!

I generally writing in the sci-fi fantasy genres, both YA and adult. I also like historical fiction. My current favorite author would probably be Pierce Brown off the top of my head, whom wrote the Red Rising series. If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend!

What genres do you like to write in, or read?

Ooo, I love giving song recs 😂 there’s a tag for it here, too! Feel free to give it a browse - #musicrecs

Here’s a few of my favorite Soundgarden songs, in no order:

And from Chris’ other band, Audioslave, because I need you to hear these vocals:

My other hobbies include playing guitar, being out in nature, reading (that might’ve been a given), crocheting, cooking, and I’m sure there’s some others lol what about you? What’re your hobbies?

Have a wonderful day 🎅! Until next time!

[drev-the-procrastinator]

20 Questions for Fic Writers -tag game

I got tagged by @zyrafowe-sny, thank you for the tag! This was fun! I wrote the answers at like 5 am sorry if they're rambly and unhinged haha.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

13, but really 7, because all but one of them are Finnish and English language versions of the same stories sjdfnasdfj

WWAIT 14! one of them is anonymous jhfashdfj almost forgot about that one

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

24 448

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Well,,, the fandoms I’ve published fic for are Hetalia (kringelis krongelis i know) and The Owl House, but when you add WIPs there’s also the Mandalorian, Noragami, and BNHA, and there USED to be HTTYD and GNG as well. Yeah the last one is the old anime where dogs fight bears. What can I say it’s really popular in Finland, Hopeanuoli 4ever

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

hands, grasping (the one TOH fic so no surprise there), Six Sunflowers (which is the oldest), Traitor’s Glory, Two Boys, Two Moments in Time, and lastly December 30th, 1929. 

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I mean I do try! When I leave comments it’s always nice to get answers, so I think it’s just nice to answer others. :) I do have some comments atm I’ve not answered but. Well. Just look at my url lmao

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

LMAO. I have no idea. I’m just going by the published ones here, but like: character seemingly falls to his death, character finds his mom’s dead on his 9th birthday and is left with his two other underage siblings to fend for themselves in the 1930s ussr, character resigns himself to the fact that his siblings probably hate him as he’s starving to death in a prison camp. Which one’s the angstiest? You choose!!

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Lmaooo well none of them are really _happy_, uh. I think Laid Down By Human Hands has probably the most neutral ending, whereas Six Sunflowers is more bittersweet, but like the sweet is there… And then Two Boys isn’t terrible either? Like it sucks a little cuz that kid’s living in WWII time Finland ya know, but it’s _fine_. I dunno! In truth it’s probably the fic on anon that’s the least terrible, but even that ending’s not a _happy_ one, it’s got unrequited pining in it lol.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope! So far at least! I don’t think my fics are popular enough to get it haha.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope! I’m almost strictly a gen writer, aside from like. 2 AUs and one TOH wip. I guess some of the WIPs could potentially and maybe should have some fade to black kinda scenes because they’re stories involving a fair amount of romance and in one of them it’s even kind of relevant to the plot. But yeah no. 

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

WELL, okay. You see, I actually started out writing via original fiction? I was like 12 when I made up a story based on a long-lasting play-pretend during recess thing I had going on with my dear friend, and it was. Written and plotted by a 12-year-old. But THEN I got really into the How To Train Your Dragon movies, and then I crossed over my story and HTTYD and then tried (still kinda low-key sorta in the process of) to separate it into my original story again, but this time with dragons! So that’s. Like the craziest journey ahfijsd my original as-of-yet unwritten fantasy story has a crossover sequel with HTTYD lmao. Also just occasionally I think about a potential giant crossover that’s got allllll my faves meeting and interacting, but that’s solely for daydreaming and “lmao wouldn’t it be funny if” -scenarios in my head. I’ve later also crossed the characters from my original story with other ones I’ve liked, in my head lol, but I don’t think I’ve written out any. Other than the TT x HTTYD hybrid. (TT is the WIP name for that original story. it doesn’t stand for anything anymore tho lmao it’s just tt)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope! Not to my knowledge, at least! Again, my fics don’t get enough hits/are too niche for anyone to think about stealing them, I imagine. 

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yeah! Almost all of them! By me. What can I say, I try to fight the good fight to keep my native language alive on the internet and also in my head. 

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

No. I did once talk about the possibility with a friend, but nothing ever came out of it. 

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Hhhh. This is very silly but I don’t really actively ship stuff, and rarely think of ships outside of when I’m watching or reading the source material or something. Thus the one I can feel confident in saying I ship is a…. oc x canon ship sshfskjfsidkfajksaf or maybe it’d be more accurate to say oc x mutated blorbo version of a canon character lmao. It’s mainly in. 2 AUs that have so little to do with the source material that they might as well be original fiction and probably by this point mostly are lol. 

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

GHHH I want to finish ALL of my big 5 main WIPs because I love them dearly and want to read them, but then again. I don’t know if I ever will because I can’t get myself to fuckin WRITE any of them. So I’m just gonna say all of my main WIPs. That is:

TT (original fantasy story thing)

home front fic (historical fic set in WWII Finland about the friendship between a kid and the soviet POW sent to work on his home farm)

Kingdom AU (girl from the country accidentally befriends the crown prince and there’s politics and they fall in love and some cool stuff and some less cool stuff happens. hard to summarize cuz i’ve never had to, target demographic is like. three people + me. here's the aesthetics and vibe blog it's got)

sad BNHA fic (what if. Eri got ofa. but how? i murder someone to haunt the narrative. easy. sad. sad bnha fd. naming skills on full display here) 

anddddd. hypothetical TOH fic (what if i came up with what happens after TTT before the two other eps of s3 came out and stayed on that path. what if the first thing i wrote about it was hunter falling off a cliff to his death. what then).

Kind of also TOH fic 3 (it’s about evelynnnnn) but that one is. Hopefully. Shorter and has the outline all written out so there’s a bigger likelihood of me finishing it someday. And to be fair the hypothetical TOH fic isn’t that long either, I could get it done, one day, but then the other ones have grown to massive size plotwise so I don’t know if I could ever get them done, actually. I hope so! But ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

16. What are your writing strengths?

I guess my plots are sometimes kinda good? Sad BNHA fic and Kingdom AU are pretty cool on that side. I used to be pretty good at writing dialogue too, but that was back when I a) wrote regularly, b) read a lot, and c) socialized. So. But I used to be good! though back then my plots were real frickin weird lol. in my defense. i was 14 to 17.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing itself. That’s the only answer I’ve got because recently I haven’t written enough to know what I’d be bad at. So just. Writing. See I can plot without writing, that’s why I’m good at that lmao

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Sure! Hell yeah! I’m gonna do that! I have done that! I love it, I love languages. Though translations are appreciated. Though I think it should be for emphasis, more so than just writing it in the language just for the hell of it (though like I had a wip where all the spoken dialogue was to be in Russian because there was so little of it and it was simple enough that I could do that, but i lost my notes for it). I think if it’s just normal dialogue and the pov character knows the language, it’s best to just add like, “they said in Finnish” to the dialogue tag, especially if there’s a lot of it. 

In my personal opinion, also when the character doesn’t know the language, I probably wouldn’t write it out? But then if a character knew the basics of the language and it was maybe one sentence I would write it in the language. Or if it was a really important line, like someone telling another character they love them in their native language, or a culturally significant thing, like, idk the adoption vow in mando'a in the Star Wars universe. But sometimes it’s also just fun to show off your own language skills! So overall, strongly encouraged. Just. Try not to use Google Translate (etc.) for it jfajfasjdn

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Hhooo. Probably the Ginga-fandom, but that one was so brief it barely counts, so I’ll say HTTYD because of the crossover thing. If it’s just fanfic without crossing it over with my own original work lol then Hetalia. 

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

TRAITOR’S GLORY!!!!!! I got to talk about my rather niche but intense area of interest in it, which is Soviet POWs in Finland during the Continuation War 1941-1944. Well, that’s the finished one at least, there are some snippets of WIPs I’ve not posted nor finished that are also very good. Imo. But. Yeah. Most of the other favourite stuff I have, concerning my fics, hasn’t been written. So. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But Traitor’s Glory is pretty nice. :)  Thanks again for the tag! I guess I'll tag some people, though no pressure: @evevoli @cowboy-garfield @peach-oolong-tea @starcloud-nova @littlekysworld @slightlycrunchy uh. yeah. If you see this and wanna do it you can say I tagged you! :) And no pressure!

[erigold13261]

Hello hello I'm back once again to ramble some more about Garden of Thorns in your FRAU, only this time I'm just gonna say that last time I completely forgot about DJSS when I wrote my last ask so that's why there was no mention of him (sorry DJ :( )

Now when it comes to helping out with your oc band fight DJSS (I will draw them when they're revealed mark my words-) Sylvie and Olive tag along because at this point no one is immune to free therapy from Sylvie- and Olive wants to make new friends so they go to Club Planetarium. Sylvie knows something is up and if needed stops the fighting to let DJSS talk about his problems and how he's feeling, and Olive removes her gloves and reveals her healing powers for the first time as it fixes the cracks on DJ's orb head and seals the gas inside it (or other material idk what's in there-) which I'm sure surprises everyone. I'm sure Sylvie may also host a group therapy session with all the NSR Artists, BBJ, etc, because she wants to help as many people as she can since she knows that there are people out there who don't have access to resources such as therapy so she's made it her goal to change that slowly but surely. (Also I'm currently working on my ocs designs for your au while typing this out so the gloves for Olive is a part of her design)

Speaking of Olive, I remember how you mentioned that Tatiana would definitely come at her during the final showdown since she's healing everyone else from a distance. Tatiana sees Olive just standing there and is a bit confused until she sees the glowing light emitting from her hands and just patching up whoever's fighting her of their injuries quickly and this sets her off. Everyone else realizes that Tatiana is charging at Olive and tries to warn Olive but then something happens that catches them and Tatiana off guard. Olive grabs Tatiana's arm before it can reach her, and then her eyes start glowing red. That's when Olive proceeds to just annihilate Tatiana via a flurry of throwing, punching, kicking, and slapping. Everyone else can only watch as Tatiana is smashed against the floor while Olive has her usual smile on her face, and then afterwards she throws Tatiana at the crown, which explodes just like in the original game and reveals Kul Fyra's guitar. Olive made sure not to hurt Tatiana too badly while doing all that and when she heals her of her injuries I'm sure Tatiana is very confused as to why Olive would heal her after she tried to attack her and lost. Olive just smiles and let's Sylvie take over aka giving Tatiana her therapy.

Sylvie would indeed suspect something is up with Kliff, but Artemis attempts to come to his defense (Mainly because of her *cough* feelings *cough* towards him but she's too shy to admit it) and tries to convince her friend that Kliff wouldn't do anything drastic. Obviously Sylvie is not having any of it and talks with Kliff anyway, and that's when she helps him realize that he has a very unhealthy parasocial relationship with his idol/Tatiana and works with him to solve any other problems he may have as well.

And that's about everything that's coming to my mind right now about FRAU, my OFA AU thoughts are starting to take over again so I'll head off to elaborate on them on my own blog lol. I hope you enjoyed my ramblings once again Eri :D

I had this mental image that Olive was smaller than Tatiana so all I was seeing in my head was Tatiana getting slapped and thrown by someone less than half her height lol! But glad I relooked at Olive because her being taller than Tatiana and being able to do that makes so much more sense!

But yes, she would be so confused and it makes me think of the scene from Undertale where Flowey doesn't understand why you spared him (them? I forget Flowey's pronouns, my bad). She would be more willing to listen to Sylvie and B2J at that point, but still hesitant because of thinking everything she's worked for will be stripped away from her (but she probably would come fully around after a few therapy sessions).

The Kul Fyra moment would probably be even more heartbreak. For Mayday and Cyril. The both idolized her and now they realize that she is the reason for a lot of their suffering because they tried to follow her path. I don't know, it just feels even more bitter sweet than how the original ending goes. I don't think Tatiana would give the guitar to either of them though, both can't play it (May physically and Cyril doesn't know how), so instead I see her as using it as a symbol to bridge EDM and Rock together.

But going back to Nova for a second, he would be VERY surprised at the fact that his head got healed. I still think there would at least be a scratch still, something that won't ever fully heal (like a scar) but at least now he will be able to contain his space dust and think with a clear head more easily! (he would also gladly stop playing music to just talk about himself and his woes, probably lets slip some stuff about Neon and 1010 too which would help Garden of Thorns/Ex-Jay depending on WHEN the rematch with Nova happens).

Group therapy will also have to wait at least a little bit after the NSRtists have some one-on-one therapy, because all I can see is Eve and Mama ganging up on Neon, 1010, and Nova while Yinu and Sayu's Crew try to stop the whole fight that is about to go down. Until Tatiana raises her voice telling them to all shut up and sit down which immediately makes them ALL obey (and also shows the therapist/Sylvie/whoever just how much work is going to need to be done).

And Kliff's relationship isn't ENTIRELY parasocial since he and Tatiana do have history together, however I do see a good talk between Tatiana and Kliff to be great closure for both of them. Maybe they get a little physical at first, with a punch here and there (from both ends) but Olive heals them both up and their wall of frustration is gone and they can finally have an open conversation. They can both finally close the book on their relationship, never really talking again, but the two finally being at piece with their shared past. (And it helps that Kliff now has Artemis to get his mind off of Tatiana :3).

So yeah! A lot of things would turn out quite nice if a Re-Revolution occurred with multiple bands coming together to pull it off! There would still be the initial few years of suffering everyone does, but at least by the end people are healing together instead of scarring by themselves!

[krankittoeleven]

Rules: list eight shows for your followers to get to know you better.

Tagged by @ainulindaelynn. This took a minute cause I couldn't think of more than 3 shows. Most of the TV I "watch" is just on in the background while I'm doing almost anything else except reading or writing.

EDIT: after posting i realized I completely forgot about Start Trek TNG. Unforgivable on my part.

M*A*S*H - I've still never figured out why this resonated with me as much as it did (I mean, aside from the obvious), especially since the last episode aired when I was a year old. There were a lot of reruns, though, growing up, so I guess it just stuck at some point. I'm not sure if it still hold true now, but there was a time in the 90s/early 00s where there was an episode of M*A*S*H airing somewhere in the world every 30 minutes. Impressive that is resonated so clearly, everywhere.

True Detective (Season 1) - I've said it before and I'll say it again: this is the single best season of a tv show, ever. The other seasons are good, but they don't have anything to do with each other aside from a call back or two, so I feel fine about treating it as its own thing. If you like detective/procedural with a light supernatural bent, plus a cult inspired by your friendly neighborhood King in Yellow, well this is the show for you.

Vikings Valhalla - strangely I haven't even watched Vikings yet, and this is a great example of mutuals being great advertisers because one of mine was hyperfixating on King Canute and I was like 👀👀 who are you? So yeah, I'm watching this for the "wrong" reasons. LOL (SRSLY THOUGH ALL I SEE IS A LIVE ACTION UBBA *snickers*

4. Hannibal - I was hooked from the beginning, before they started throwing all that sexual tension around (not complaining tho lol). This was one of the few shows that my ex partner and I watched together all the time, our tastes and schedules often conflicted, but we were always around for the murder husbands. XD

5. The Haunting of Hill House - another one the X-misses and I used to watch together. I really enjoyed this one though it took us forever to get through it because we'd stop every few minutes to figure out if we'd spotted a ghost or not. LOL I quiet enjoyed it overall, and I also very much like how they changed things up over the original novella. I like Shirley Jackson, but I think some of her other stuff is better.

6. Any Dinosaur TV show - especially Walking With Dinosaurs and Dinosaur Planet and Prehistoric Planet.

7. Severance - This show knocked me out. I heard about it on Tumblr one day and I'd binged it all within the next couple days. LMAO What nonsense I love it.

8. Good Omens & Sandman - putting these two together because they fill the same space in my heart: respectable adaptations of things I grew up with and am very fond of and I'm glad to see getting a wider audience/more attention/more love. :D

I will tag @brasideios @macavitykitsune @theinkandthesea @vdk-hellscape and anyone else that wants to cuz I'm not sure who has or hasn't been hit by this one yet.