#I am getting even more tempted to rewrite all of these from his PoV

[factorialsfandoms]

I... couldn’t find an idea for any of today’s prompts I liked, so here please take an /extreme/ stretch on ‘tossing and turning’, with the water fairy from HW Great Sea Map J4. Maybe its better to call this alt prompt - dazed & confused.

Bo had not even realised the threat before a net fell down over her. She had merely been out exploring, looking for new excitement as fairies of her age were wont to do. Somewhere, far from the reach of her friends, she had sat down for a nap. It was a good nap, a lovely nap.

And then she was awoken by the screams of bloodshed and battle, and to a net over her head.

In panic she tried to flee, but it did her no good - whomever had caught her was an expert, quickly transferring her to a bottle, and stoppering the cork.

Terrified she turned, reaching out to beg her captor to let her go free and escape this place. She’s be no trouble, just let her go.

He did not let her go.

Instead, her captor upended the bottle, checking the fit of the cork. With the sudden movement Bo could not spread her wings in time, and instead crashed hard. The cork at least was softer than the glass, softening her fall. Still she hit it hard, a shock going up her spine.

“Please stop!” she called, only for the bottle to be turned back the other way.

This time she had just about enough time to shriek before she hit the floor - hard - and the breath was stolen entirely from her lungs.

With desperate gasps she pulled in more to replace it, bruised muscles burning with the effort.

Wide eyed she looked up at her captor, too breathless to even beg him again. Instead, she hoped the desperate look and the way her chest moved far too fast would convey the message. He was ugly, but surely he wasn’t that cruel?

He was.

A grin spread across her captor’s face, wicked and cruel and wide. He gave a gleeful shout before suddenly jerking the bottle to one side.

Bo was thrown across the bottle, slamming into the glass. Something snapped this time, and the agony joined the force in pushing air from her lungs. Suddenly realising what was happening she pulled her arms - arm, one refused to move - over her head and curled up, desperately trying to protect herself.

Another jerk, and she slammed into the side once more.

Weren’t bottles supposed to be enchanted to prevent such pain?! Maybe he had just selected a dud one...

This time there was a long break, long enough for her breathing to still and her magic to start wrapping around her wounds, healing the broken arm just enough for her to pull it over her head too; she doubted this would be the end of it.

And she was correct to.

After a bit the bottle was taken and thrown high into the sky, spinning as it did. She was thrown from side to side, the force too much even for prepared wings to fight against, every part of her body slamming into the glass, her arms falling from head head on the fourth or fifth crack.

And then her head began slamming into it, again and again and again, until she could barely see, barely remember, her only real knowledge being the pain and the muffled but yet too loud sounds from outside.

Then suddenly all motion stopped, and something more panicked and shrill cut through. Bo lay on the bottom of the bottle, wings spread out, gasping for air as she tried to orientate herself. On instinct she used magic to straighten her wings and refuse her bones, doing its best to repair the damage to her brain but finding itself at a loss.

Brains were tricky; they took more concentration to fix than Bo was capable of having. Still her magic tried, soothing the pain just enough that she could again see details, and the world stopped turning when she was absolutely still.

She... She could just stay here, right? Stay here for the weeks it would take for her to regain full use of her senses? That would be fine... Right?

But then there was the pop of the lid being removed - suddenly everything sounded ever so much more. Bo flinched, and then yelped as the world shifted beneath her.

Whatever was tipping her from the bottle was much more gentle, but any movement no seemed cruel. She tumbled over the lip, unable to quite find her wings in time not to crash into the hand below.

There was one soothing noise, and another panicked and shrill. Both clawed into her brain, and made her headache pound once more.

It took a lot to sit up, and more still to look around. Her eyes would not focus, no matter what she did, and... and... she was sat on the hand of something very, very tall, and almost certainly monstrous.

Seeing the threat, she tried to bolt, flapping her wings as fast as she could in an attempt to get away. The dizziness reared up again, throwing her off balance - she tilted heavily to the left, her flight path veering and falling both, then over corrected and ended up to the right. Desperately she tried to correct herself, but it was just like her legs! Her wings weren’t working, why weren’t her wings working, why couldn’t she get away?!

Still she tried to escape, trying to head up and away from the battle.

An arrow surely aimed elsewhere clipping her leg, sending her tumbling off course once more. She tried to spread her wings to steady herself, but only somehow managed to straighten the descent.

Why was this so hard?!

It was only flying! Flying... Flying came naturally to fairies!

Panic seizing her heart her breathing froze. Even as she managed to stabalise her fall she could not breathe again; even as she continued on a dangerous and erratic path did she find her vision blurred and her body improperly responsive.

Everything was too loud and her head hurt and she couldn’t breathe and she was so, so, so scared!

A veering to the left, a fall to the right, she dropped and gained altitude at random. Maybe it looked like a clever escape path, but in truth she could not keep her strength balanced or her path straight.

It was proven not to be so when she tried to weave between the fighting armies, only to crash into some manner of red-skinned beast.

The creature did not even notice her, tiny as she was, though the force of the impact left her tumbling to the floor again. Any air left was lost, but some the act managed to trigger her into breathing again.

Not that it would do her much help - the ground was fast approaching, but she was so dizzy she could not even work out which way to fly to not hit it. No matter what she did, it only got closer and closer and closer and if she crashed... If she crashed into the mud on a battlefield, they’d never see her! They’d never see her and she’s simply be crushed to death by all the hundreds of shoes.

But then something else appeared - gloves hands, cupped beneath her. As she touched them they lowered a little, cushioning her fall.

The monster - the second monster, the one that had taken her from the bottle - again. He kept glancing up at the fight around him, but for now remained... strangely still, clicking his tongue gently in what was likely an attempt to soothe.

Bo tried to get up and fly once more. She made it to her knees before her brain was overwhelmed with dizzy, her vision whiting out for a moment as she keeled over to one side.

This... This was it, then. To be devoured by some monster who could not even absorb her magic right.

Unable to do anything else she began to sob. Every jerking motion made agony run through her head, her vision whiting each time, but it was all she could do! Her arms fell beneath her, leaving her puddled and sobbing in unfamiliar hands even as they moved. Slowly, carefully, but too fast not to make her blurred vision swim and her head to loll once more.

“Link!” the shrieking voice was clearly another fairy; Bo groaned at the sound, piercing through her skill and into her bones. “What did I say about running off?!”

Gently one of the hands cradling Bo tipped, letting her fall limply until she was lying on only one. It was much kinder than any other motion from the day, but still pounded her head until she couldn’t breathe.

A moment passed, before the shrieking fairy came into view. Bo, she was ashamed to say, screwed tight her eyes shut so she couldn’t see the bright blue glow, couldn’t suffer the sharp pain it bought.

“Oh...” the new fairy did a bad job at whispering. “Are you- Link, is she alive?!”

Bo did her best to gesture, managing to move her hand a little. There was a small flurry of movement, then her shoes were being taken and her head kept carefully still as a tiny glass was put to her lips.

“Drink,” the other fairy ordered. “Link always says that drinking helps you feel better.”

Not really; all it made Bo do was burst into tears all over again.

“Sister!” the fairy grabbed her hands, moving her a little. “Come on, big sister, you need to drink!”

The cup was pressed into her face again, only for Bo to choke on the water - precious water which tasted of a great mother not her own.

The other fairy continued panicking, trying again.

This time it worked.

Bo could feel the blessing passing through her body, soothing pains and breaks from the jostling.

It, however, did nothing for her vision or her head.

“Better now?” the fairy chimed, more sweet than her use of the Hylian tongue. “I’m Proxi, who are you?”

Bo did her best to answer, but from the look on Proxi’s face, it was not making much sense. So she tried again and again, getting steadily more distressed as the confusion grew.

Finally, Proxi got there, “Bo! That’s a good name, right Link?” she did not pause for her companion to reply. “But, you’re not speaking good, are... are you okay?”

“Head hurts,” she replied.

Proxi looked more worried, tilting her head to the side, “could you speak a bit slower, I’m sorry, you’re all garbled! Like a fish!”

Bo did as she was told, slowing down every bit of it.

Proxi’s expression grew serious as Bo finished her words. Suddenly the other fairy was there, tilting Bo’s head. Tiny fingers found a bruise, sending an agonised scream from Bo’s lips. The hand they were sitting on clinched, and after a moment its owner began a fast job elsewhere.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Proxi really did mean it, panicked even though she was. “Link! Help! Her bruises have bruises!”

There was some more one-sided communication that Bo could not catch, until Proxi’s hands grabbed her arm, and tugged it over her shoulder.

“We’re going to go ride Link!” she explained, not making any sense. “Sorry if its dizzy, but there’s still a fight going on and we’ll be safe in his scarf. Link always looks after me, and he’ll look after you too! And we have other big sisters staying with us, too!”

Bo did not even have time to process the information, all of the words smushed together and impossible to unpick fast enough, before her side was grabbed and she was pulled into the air.

While Proxi’s path was steady, it threw Bo’s brain back into a horrible tailspin. Even the careful movement had her brain feel like it was being sloshed inside her skull, jelly wobbling harshly and slamming into the sides. Her vision grew increasingly distorted, the two images moving farther from one another, and her other injuries objected sharply. All around them the sounds of battle continued, smashing into Bo’s ears and making it feel like her brain was trying to explode.

It was only a couple of seconds before they landed on the soft blue of the scarf, Proxi tugging her upright. Bo did her best to land - it should have been easy, it should have, it should, it was perfectly folded for fairies to rest on - only for her feet to... somehow miss.

She scrambled for a moment, trying to regain her footing, only to somehow mistake down for up and up for down and end up slipping entirely off.

A scream tore through her ears, leaving a vague ringing behind it which distorted and warped the sound.

She was falling falling falling, tumbling and turning once again as she failed to ever direct her wings the correct way.

To Bo’s eternal surprise, it was stopped once again by a gloved hand. The screaming cut off as she landed hard, losing air again. As she gasped the hand moved slowly up to the level of the scarf, where a frantic Proxi grabbed her hands.

Bo could see that Proxi was talking as she tugged Bo towards her, trying to move her from the hand to the scarf. Bo did her best to follow the implied guidance, stumbling as her feet missed their spots and gave out beneath her.

Proxi spoke in a frantic tone as she helped, only worsening Bo’s headache; she stumbled again, this time falling entirely.

This time, a little magic came from Proxi’s hands, prodding at Bo’s own, trying to offer her strength to heal. While Bo’s body accepted it greedily, knowing itself hurt, it seemed... confused as to what to do with it.

Somehow, she made it from the hand to the scarf. The hand remained there, ready to catch her if she fell again.

Another two steps and she slipped once more, though Proxi managed to pull her forwards instead of her falling back.

She fell with an umph onto the soft fabric, head spinning and spinning and spinning, almost like the man on which she lay was swirling about himself.

Concerned hands touched her shoulders - Bo gasped as they caught her bruises. Quickly they moved away. A few moments later the sound of battle was dimmed once again, and the lights faded somewhat. Confused and hurting, Bo tried to look. Holding her not yet caught breath she twisted, only to find the scarf to have been folded over her face.

Instinctively she panicked, until small hands reached under the fold to grab her own.

“We’re safe now,” Proxi was saying. “Link’s got you. But your head must really hurt - I’ll give you more magic to try heal it, and you take a nap until the worst is past. Okay big sister?”

Bo did not need more permission to collapse. With the pounding headache she found it impossible to sleep, but it was easy for her eyes to shut down and her brain to spin. The muffled sounds of yelling and fights continued, Proxi returning to the sharp, grating Hylians as she called orders on behalf of her master. It pounded and roared, tearing up Bo’s mind and making it impossible to think.

And then, after an amount of time Bo could not comprehend, those large hands - no longer gloved - peeled the scarf aside.

The bright light of daytime assaulted her eyes, causing a grown and her vision, which had been calming, to snap back to its worse. Proxi looked worried as she and Link spoke about something, one hand replying to high-pitched words, before flying off.

Gently the hand unpicked Bo from the scarf. She whined as the safety was taken away, earning herself a chuckle. That hand was gentle, too, as it lowered her down, until she rested in a puddle of water.

Not a puddle - a fountain.

As a fairy of water she could not drown, and the waters of the great mothers - even absent ones, this one away fighting if she remembered rightly - helped even more than for their other-aligned kin. She heard a yell from Link and quick reassurances from Proxi as she shifted to the side - too much, not that she could tell - falling from the rock ledge she had been placed on and submerging herself entirely.

Finally, relief.

Bo’s head still pounded, noise and light still tore through it like sawdust, and she could still barely find her feet let alone put them down but here, floating in the magic-touched water, the pain finally dulled enough for her body to start healing, and for her mind to sleep.

[coruscantiscribbler]

Once again, I return from the field after spending long evenings keeping company with my favourite fic authors. I am forever indebted to you all. This time I returned with a bonus: I have started writing, again! (With no small help from a friend).

Welcome back to the Asker’s Studio, my friends, I am very glad to one again welcome back @coruscantiscribbler !

When last we chatted, Scribs, you were preparing to embark on that period of Rebels when Kallus is not making an appearance, thus, you were left to your own devices for your fic, We Regret . I believe that we are now three chapters into original content, and I have to say my friend, you are killing it!

As usual, I have a few questions!

To begin, I know that you are a very methodical individual. In the past, you carefully scrutinize existing material, so that you can reference it, yet, not continually regurgitate it. Now that you are essentially free of canon material, do you find this liberating? Has it changed your approach to writing your fic, in general?

As you well know, I am thrilled with how you have handled the Kallus/Zeb relationship. You have continued to adapt a children’s show into a mature, complex story that is palatable for adults. We also see that there will not be the Cinderella story, however, do you envision a long-term friendship to be in the cards for Kallus/Zeb?

Okay I’m chomping at the bit (yup, a bit of horsey talk for the equestrian) to get to this last part: Thrawn & Yularen, folks!

If I really want to celebrate the unintended benefits of Kallus being left out of large chunks of the Rebels episodes, it would be that not one, but two of my favorite characters are slated for an appearance of one sort or the other! Both Thrawn & Yularen mentioned in the same chapter, mercy!

Did you plan this cameo of Thrawn from the start? (Again this gets back to how you navigate uncertain waters)

Can we hope to shout that there will be more than a passing acknowledgment of Thrawn/Kallus?

Yularen. I know that we don’t want to give away spoilers, but…but…is there a possibility that my guy is going to make an appearance? 🤞🏽

Scribs, I am thoroughly enjoying what you are doing and it has been my extreme pleasure to chat with you once again.

Hi, Bee, so glad we could make time in the field more palatable, and I'm so excited you are writing. Can't wait to read what you create.

Once we're past canon it's playing tennis with the net up. When we have the show to guide us or we just rewrite the episodes from a character's POV that's more like playing tennis with the net down. However, that fourth season of Rebels is being in terra incognita and it's a bit like doing a high wire act without a net.

It is liberating, and also very scary. It also gives me an opportunity to really think about what being a rebel intelligence officer actually entails (when you are not shooting informants to keep them from falling into the hands of the Empire). It's very tempting to just say that Kallus is working really hard, and not eating or sleeping enough, but I felt like I needed to actually craft what the hell he is doing. So I've been trying to do my poor best to channel my inner John le Carre.

I do see a friendship between Zeb and Kallus, but I think they're going to have to work for it, and it won't come easy. I also think that when Zeb takes Kallus to Lira San it's not for happily-ever-after, or even to stay. I think Zeb does it as a mitzvah and to finally, fully save Kallus. You'll all see what I mean when I get there.

I had wanted Thrawn and Kallus to meet one last time before tentacles, and I had notions that came fully into focus a few weeks ago. Then I had to create this new group of aliens and do research on starship fuel in Star Wars. (That's the fun of being a writer -- research). I hope to get to it in the next chapter, and I might start that mission, but finish it in the next because there will be a lot going on with that.

Yularen will appear only as a recorded hologram this time, but there will be a final in person meeting between Wullf and Alexsandr. This upcoming scene has been planned almost from the moment I started writing this monster, the final meeting came to me midway through this process.

I love your Asks so thank you for getting back to doing them. They are so much fun to answer and they really make me think.

[maudus1]

i can’t remember a random Wednesday ever being this blessed! A kenobi episode AND a new TW chap! The update was EXQUISITE! I recall an anon asking about whether you’ve ever thought about doing a chap from OBi wans POV but I can’t remember whether you said you were thinking about it/considering it/or it was unlikely? Can I be cheeky & inquire again? 🥺 I wanna know so bad what’s going on in his head! Anytime he looks at anakin it’s prob just head empty, dick hard but I wanna know for sure!

YES KENOBI DAY!

I just caught up a few hours ago and am still sorting it out in my brain. Literally everyone in the episode was a BAMF?! Even baby Leia, look at her go! So proud. And by the Force, she is so much like her mom but in this episode I saw a ton of Anakin. Brilliant.

On to Troubled Water:

I have briefly talked about the Obi thing, yeah! From the start, I wanted the majority of the story told from Anakin's POV, and to end it with Obi-Wan's.

As for whether I'll do any like, direct rewrites of chapters from his POV, I'm not sure yet so I can't make promises, only say that I am thinking about it. It may simply depend on what all gets covered in the main fic because I do plan to go back and address several things. If I do my job right, Obi-Wan's reactions, and his feelings, should make more sense in hindsight and/or upon rereading.

"Head empty, dick hard" cracked me up tho ngl 🤣

He 100% has a couple moments where all higher brain function ceases. But there is usually a lot going on in his mind. Whenever I write a scene I am always thinking about what he is thinking and feeling just as much as I am with Anakin.

Anakin just isn't the most reliable narrator. He's still very emotionally intuitive - not as dense as he seems or as I joke about him being - but he is prone to misinterpreting the emotions he does sense or assigning meaning to them that isn't there. He's looking at it as, "this is the reaction I want / if it were me, I would do this," and when Obi-Wan's responses don't line up with his desires or expectations, he jumps to conclusions. Obi-Wan is just better at hiding his feelings, but they're still there. In every chapter so far, he has dealt with his fair share of internal conflict.

Once they reach a level of camaraderie where Obi-Wan can just be himself with Anakin, not as a Master or even a Jedi but as a friend and partner, their communication will improve. They both have some personal growth to achieve, but they'll get there.

(fr tho Obi-Wan is also horny as fuck and suffering because I'm evil that way, muahahahaha)

Like ok, this scene from ch4?

Glancing up from his master’s tempting lap, he finds Obi-Wan staring at him oddly. Eyes glazed and distant, lips parted as though he was about to speak but lost his train of thought.

“Master?” he repeats.

Obi-Wan blinks, eyes refocusing. “What?”

“You look tired. Maybe you should rest before we arrive.”

Obi-Wan holds his gaze a moment longer, then looks away and shifts on his ass, tugging awkwardly at the cloth over his knees. “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” he says, lying down on his own bunk with a weary sigh. “Who knows what sort of mess we’ll be walking into.”

Literally them:

art source: lindebergart

Anyway I hope that answers your question! Thank you so much for the interest, it really helps me as a writer to understand readers' perspectives as well. What to look out for, things that may require elaboration down the line, which breadcrumbs to return to later etc. Hope you have an awesome day, my friend, and may the Force be with you! 💙

[ahsoka-lives]

Apprentice pt. 3 (REWRITE)

A/n: Yikes, I didn’t like the original one too much so I edited it and added a bit more perspective and changed the over all plot structure a bit. The beginning is largely the same, it’s the end and the dialogue that changed the most. I appreciate the kind words given from the original but I am critical of myself and will always find ways to pick apart what I wrote, whether it was good or not. I promise this one is staying up! Thank you all for almost 150 followers!! And thank you for being so patient with me as I repost work and take so long to update. I hope you’re all taking care of yourselves and that you enjoy this chapter!! Gif is by @wiccangoddes​

Warnings: Descriptions of death, threats, Soulmate AU

Word count: 3199

The past month alone on this ship was tiresome, the only consistency was a dull ache in the base of your skull, a side effect of not being with Cal. Luckily, yesterday was the final portion of tests aboard the training vessel.

There wasn’t much about the final test you remembered, only going into the sensory deprivation chamber and succumbing to the sedative. When you woke up you were cleared to return to “Cal’s supervision”, a phrase you were growing tired of.

Secretly, you’d grown bitter the past few weeks, you were treated far worse when not around Cal. The technicians weren’t exactly pleasant and while you may have worn their uniform, they knew who you were and where you came from. They treated you like the Bracca trash they saw you as. Now, when looking at you there were no remnants of your upbringing in your appearance. Long gone was the poncho that served you comfort all those years. No one could tell that the Empire tore you away from the only place you could call home and attempted to brainwash you. You couldn’t help but feel like you let this happen, mesmerized by the idea of a happily ever after with Cal, you willingly walked aboard the transport. Then not even a day later, you watched him walk away from you and onto his ship with only a few kind words and the promise of his return.

All personnel walked the halls with their heads high and shoulders back. Their uniforms blurred them together, erasing any personality within them. They were only of the Empire, nothing else. The fluorescent lighting reflected off the white tile, giving the ship a sense of sterility. Now, you stood in the mirror of your small, cramped room aboard the training vessel. The brandishing of the Inquisition was displayed on your shoulder, this was their training armor. It was similar to Cal’s chest plate, only yours lacked his sense of authority. You knew that was something you’d have to make for yourself starting today. 

Today was your first time back into the real world since being taken into the Empire and because of how fresh your training is, Cal was going to keep you under a microscope.

 - Cal’s POV

Cal Kestis stood inside the small bay of his ship in front of the holotable, his eyes fixated on the projection in front of him. It was the case file containing every ounce of data the Empire could procure on you. Every test, every simulation, every behavioral pattern that could be used to predict your future actions in the field. On your last test, you performed abnormally well with the exception of one minor infringement that resulted in the test ending sooner than expected, written off as a technical difficulty. Nevertheless, they sent the recording to him, just as he requested for every test.

Cal looked fondly at the intake photo that was shown next to your name one last time. He knew all too well what was to come, how could he not? The Empire was exceptionally skilled in controlling its subjects and as such, they had a knack for identifying those who would give them trouble. He wondered what you would think of the name they’d given you and if you would soon prove them right.

 Y/f/n Kestis, FLIGHT RISK.

-Reader’s POV

The walk to the hangar was a short one, within minutes you were walking on the bridge that hung over it. You looked down onto the ship that had just docked. Standing beside it talking to a small group of troopers was Cal, instantly upon seeing him your muscles relaxed, the ache in your neck and shoulders lessened. The closer you got the more the tense feeling of anticipation in both of you slipped away. That’s not to say the bitterness you felt was gone, only lessened with the feeling of normalcy returning to your body

.“Apprentice.” He nodded to you in acknowledgment. You stayed silent as he dismissed the troopers and let them walk for a moment before pulling you in for an unexpected hug. The headache left you almost instantly and you melted into his arms. The energy around him fought to suffocate you further against him, you weren’t sure if this was a conscious effort or just a reflex for him. He took a deep breath in, balance returning to him after a long few weeks without having you around. Was he happy to see you or happy to feel his power returning?

-

While on your way to the new living arrangements that the Empire set up for Cal and you, a distress signal was intercepted by the ship. A small outpost on a nearby moon had a small squabble with the locals, nothing out of the ordinary according to Cal. 

Across from you in the bay, Cal’s helmet sat in the chair next to him as he meditated, there was something peaceful about this. His face was relaxed with the exception of his brows furrowed in concentration. Seeing him like this humanized him, it made a hopefulness bloom inside of you, maybe his intimidating manner was all a facade. 

But as soon as the ship landed, the helmet returned, with it your memory of what he’s done while wearing that uniform. The uniform reminded you of the time you spent in the labs on the training vessel. They showed you what the Empire had in store for you. The Empire wanted to turn you into a weapon just like they had Cal. The simulations were designed to warp your view on reality, to plant the false narrative of the Empire’s savior complex, and to tempt you into accepting its enemies on as your own. Perhaps their biggest mistake was showing you what the Empire does to force sensitives. They showed you that if it weren’t for your ties to Cal, you would be lying dead in the scrapyards at this very moment. 

The Force-sensitives in the simulations were painted as burdens, as insignificant evils that needed to be removed from the galaxy with a swift and heavy hand. But, if that were true, what did that make you? How could you in good conscience kill someone like you? Someone who may not even understand their role in the universe yet or what it even means to be Force-sensitive. It’s thoughts like these that made the idea of running more tempting. 

You desperately tried to smother these thoughts, you’d hate for Cal to catch on. You’d learned that those skilled with the Force could tap into the thoughts and feelings of those around them and slight paranoia followed you ever since. For all you knew, he could be trying to see inside your head right this moment. 

 “Apprentice, let’s get going.” Cal snapped you out of the mental spiral you’d gone down. The fresh air washed over you and with it a fleeting moment of happiness.

“Let’s see if any of that training paid off.” He spoke as he held a saber out in his hand for you. It was cold and heavy in your hands, heavier than the training saber you used with the droids. Side by side, you walked with Cal, a squadron of troopers trailing behind you. The grass was near your knees and the trees towered over you providing shelter from the sun.

This wouldn’t be a bad place to disappear.

The group walked for miles in near silence until a column of smoke emerged from beyond the trees.

 “Eyes up, that’s coming from the outpost, this might be bigger than we thought.” Cal’s modulated voice called out. The troopers fanned out from behind you and raised their blasters. The air felt tense and the hairs on your neck stood, every sound suddenly more clear. 

Cal raised his fist to halt the troopers and looked down at the scanner on his forearm. Your eyes remained on the trees in front of you. They looked to Cal for direction who only pointed two fingers ahead of the group at the thick wall of trees and shrubbery. In unison, you and Cal reached for your sabers. 

Suddenly, high pitch blaster shots whizzed past you in a red flash, you braced and brought your saber up to block as many as you could. One by one the troopers were shot down, leaving only you and Cal standing. You gave a nervous glance up to his helmet and dug your feet further into the ground to solidify your position. He felt oddly calm. 

“Cal Kestis, we meet again.” A woman emerged from the trees, her voice was steady and smooth. Her cream-colored robes flowed gently in the wind, her dark hair was tied back out of her face that adorned a small smile. Behind her were a few soldiers dressed in similar green and beige clothes, not quite a uniform but close to it.

 “Trilla, how disappointing.” Cal mocked the woman. “How’s the leg doing since I last cut it off?”

“Well, the prosthesis business is booming, apparently a lot of sword-wielding maniacs have been running around” She joked and raised an eyebrow at the Inquisitor. “Aren’t you interested as to why I lured you here?”

“Not really, no. I’d rather skip to the part where I finish you and your little band of men off for good this time.” He sassed and flipped his saber up in his hands absentmindedly.

 “We got word of another Jedi being abducted by you and your sisters, am I right to assume this is her?” She sneered, gone was the playful banter between them.

“She’s no Jedi, and she’s none of your concern.” He growled and put an arm in front of you protectively.

 “On the contrary, innocent life in the hands of the Empire is and will always be my first priority.” She paused and looked at you this time. “I’m here to help you, what’s your name?”

“I’m Y/n, and I don’t need your help.” You bit back and grabbed hold of his arm to lower it, allowing you to step forward. He was more than hesitant to allow this and you could feel his distaste for the situation arising. 

“Y/n, a little early for blind allegiance to them, isn’t it?” She urged and took a small step forward making Cal tense visibly.

“At least she knows where she belongs.” He bit from behind the mask.

“With the enemy? With the government who hunts down people like us?”

“There is no us, Trilla.” He chuckled darkly as he continued to berate her. “The order is gone, only the ashes of its failure remain along with insolent, naive padawans like yourself.”

“You forget that you were once a padawan, that you once wore the symbol of the Jedi with pride.” Her voice was saturated in emotion and she seemed to be choking back tears.

“For a Jedi, you sure cry a lot.” He rolled his eyes under the helmet, the sarcasm dripping from his voice. “How about I really give you something to cry about?”

His gloved hand raised in front of him and one of the soldiers rose from the ground and flew toward him. He swiftly impaled the soldier with his saber before letting the body fall to the ground at his feet. Without hesitation, he moved forward and lifted another off the ground only this time his fist curled tightly, and with a subtle movement of his head, he snapped the man’s neck. 

The woman named Trilla cried out, sprung forward and clashed her saber against his, their duel ensuing. You were torn from your state of shock by a blaster shot grazing past your shoulder. Your eyes flew to the source and you reflexively brought your saber up to block the next one.

 “Apprentice, you’re going to have to be more offensive than that,” Cal called out, his tone playful as he kicked Trilla in the chest sending her flying back. 

His hand stretched out and lifted the soldier who fired at you up and with a flick of his wrist the soldier was flown into the ground in front of you. The man was visibly shaken but his intent to finish his mission seemed to take precedence over what just happened. You screwed your eyes shut and swung your saber forward, slashing the rifle in half. 

The soldier, seemingly unfazed, swept your ankle with his foot making you fall to the ground, your saber falling a few feet away now lifeless. A knife was pulled from his boot and he lurched forward in an attempt to impale you with it. You shuffled backward away from him, your back near the dirt, panic flooding your chest. 

Your eyes looked to Cal who was preoccupied with a fight of his own and you realized that you were alone in this. You scrambled to your feet and took cautious steps back as the man in front of you seemed to be calculating his next attack. The saber, your only chance of survival, was at his feet. The soldier grunted and leaped toward you, you barely managed to avoid it. Your hand reached out desperately for your saber and every ounce of effort was forced into calling it to you, but the saber barely shifted on the ground. 

You groaned in frustration, why wasn’t it working?

“Y/n, behind you!” Cal yelled but it was too late, you were tackled to the ground, your head slamming into the firm grass.

 “Commander, I have her!” The man yelled to Trilla. 

The trees around you seemed to spin and you struggled to move as he had you pinned down, your saber was resting on the ground just a few feet in front of you and just beyond it was the fierce duel between the Jedi and the Inquisitor. You had to admit, Trilla was skilled but she lacked something that you saw in Cal. He was downright violent, while Trilla fought to defend herself, he fought for the sake of fighting. She fought toward an end but he relished in seeing the frustration on his opponent’s face as he evaded their attacks and inflicted pain onto them. 

You let your eyes shut and you tried to recall what you felt all those weeks ago on Bracca. Your hand flexed open and you let your mind feel the air around you, imagining that the world around you was still. You gave up on trying to physically will the saber to you and allowed your mind to do the work for you. You just had to get out of this, you weren’t going to let someone else take you away to stars knows where.

You sighed in relief when the cool metal of the hilt was in your hands. When your eyes reopened, the deep red of the saber was alive in front of you. You caught it in reverse and the blade had opened directly into the man’s chest, his limp body falling off of you. You stood up panting and looked to Cal who had single-handedly taken on the four other men and Trilla.

“Your men are dead, Trilla, are you ready to join them?” Cal taunted, his arms gesturing around to the dead bodies that lay around the three of you. The pain on her face was evident as was her exhaustion. She looked to you with an earnest glint in her eyes, a silent plea but you didn’t know what for. 

“Can’t you see what he is? What he wants you to become?” She begged and gestured to Cal, his face still hidden by his armor. “A monster in a mask who spends every waking moment in darkness.” 

“You don’t seem to understand, Trilla, she knows.” He chuckled and lazily twirled his saber in his hand. “Besides, she couldn’t leave me if she wanted to, we are bonded by the Force, inseparable.”

 “You? The Force gave you a soulmate?” She spit, sheer disbelief written over her face as she shook her head. “That doesn’t matter, you’ve known her for what? Four weeks? The bond isn’t complete, there’s still time for her.”

“None of this matters, but, I’ll tell you the best part.” He laughed, he was thoroughly entertained by all of this, the pain she felt included. “She knows no family, no past worth holding onto. There’s nothing for you to tempt her with. Only I can give her what she wants.”

He was right, you had nothing pulling you back, no family for you to return to. But if what Trilla said was true, you had nothing keeping you here either.

 Maybe you didn’t have to become another pawn. 

You took another look at the man in front of you, the memory of his comfortable arms still fresh in your memory. Cal promised you a lot, a soulmate...stability, but at what cost? Your eyes moved to the woman that was now kneeling on the ground, wounded and exhausted from fighting your partner. She offered a way out of the Empire’s schemes but that was it. Surely you could find that for yourself. In a moment of pure thoughtlessness you raised your palm up toward Cal, gaining his attention.

“My dear, that’s a bold move, even for you.” He chided and raised his hands to remove his helmet. “Are you sure you have what it takes to go against me?” 

“I’ll be long gone by the time you’re moving again.” Your voice was shaky as you tested the waters against him, guilt of your betrayal arising in you.

“Oh, I’m sure. I’ve seen what you can do but you have only seen a taste of what I can do.” He promised with a chilling intensity, a wicked smile on his handsome face, his excitement growing by the second. His irises tinted yellow and his pupils were blown. 

“Go ahead, I can handle it, sweetheart.” You felt the past few weeks of suppressed emotions and near torture bubbling inside of you. “Come on, gorgeous, I’ll give you a head start.”

He deactivated his saber and hooked it onto his waist, seemingly unbothered by the Jedi watching this unfold. While this meant he was going to let you run, it wasn’t nearly enough security for you. You mustered up all the strength that you could and forced Cal over the wall of bushes and away from you. 

After a moment of silence, you assumed him to be unconscious and stalked over to Trilla with a determined look on your face. 

“I knew you’d do the right thing, y/n.” She sighed and rose to her feet. The words made you roll your eyes, his arrogance was rubbing off on you. “I’m glad you’re joining the right cause.”

“I’m getting tired of everyone talking and thinking on my behalf, who said I was joining you?” You growled and shot your hand out to pull her saber into your hand, her unfounded trust in you left her guard down. 

Now, with both sabers in hand, you pointed one across her throat, the other in a block position above your torso. “Take me to your ship.”

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E9; Chapter Nine, The Gate- [Pt. 5]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

The survivors turn up the heat on the monstrous force that's holding Will hostage, and Y/n's powers are put to the ultimate test in the process. Eleven makes plans to finish what she started.

A/n:.... yall ready for this???? + For some reason, the link isn't working but I looked all over and found this really bitchin [😉] synth score for your guys' scene. You of course don't have to listen to it or anything but it's REALLY cool and fits the scene well I think. It's called

Sorcerer by S U R V I V E

I recommend it! I understand though, if you don't 🥰Either way, happy reading! And yay, snowball next!!

Warnings: suffocation, noticeable amount of violence, more blood. Baddassery. Edit: a slightly tweaked sad endgame quote my subconscious slipped in there

||3rd Person POV||

Steve and the four party members now sit at the entrance of the tunnel that had brought them to the hub, all canisters now completely empty. The hub reeked of gasoline that manages to sting their throats despite their masks.

"You ready?" Steve asks, glancing back at the kids.

A chorus of muffled agreements ring out, and only then does he pull the lighter from his breast pocket.

Dustin looks up at Steve, sending him a curt and reassigned nod.

"Light her up,"

Steve sighs, taking one last look at their work. The tension in the air now palpable.

"I am in such deep shit,"

He flicks the lighter open, and in one swift click, it comes to life with a sharp and threatening hiss.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The flames in the fireplace grow brighter and far more intense as it reaches and swallows the bigger pieces of firewood. Will's screams have turned to violent grunts has his grip grows tighter around his mother's neck. Jonathan is already at her aid, trying with all his might to release her but Will's grip is unnaturally strong and unwavering.

Seeing this, Nancy jumps into action and quickly maneuvers around the bed to the fireplace. She can't bring herself to leave the poor injured girl passed out against the wall without sending several silent apologies to her. I'm sorry, Y/n! She makes it to the fireplace and pulls the tong loose from the fire where it had been cooking and shook a few logs loose.

The end was a bright and glowing shade of yellow, and Nancy fought a deep breath and the hesitation creeping up, but she had to do something! Her grip around the firepoker tightens until her knuckles turn white.

Behind her, the fire begins to pop as the loosened logs begin to shift, and several embers are sent flying. Several of them land on Will, angering him further. It's almost enough to make him let go, but he does not relent. The firepoker is already in his side, burning right through his shirt with a horrible sizzle, and the boy howls in pain, Joyce now set free.

His back arches in horrible pain, the stick plunging further into his side and another screech is let loose.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

This was it. It was now or never. The dogs weren't going anywhere, and he had to get El to the gate. Hopper's eyes flutter closed, and he counts to three under his breath, the cry of each beast echoing in his skull and beating against his chest.

One...

Two...

Three...

He throws himself through the door, gun first, and his finger on the trigger.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Joyce now towers over her son, spit flying and her voice strained from injury. Nancy had helped her to her feet and was now aiding the rest in restraining Will.

Joyce takes a deep breath as strained screams bellow from her.

"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY SON!"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The lighter in Steve's gloved hand cast out into the fume soaked air, it's small but greedy flame swallows the entire room in seconds. The vines once woven into the dirt come alive in seconds, and they reach the ceilings, writhing and squealing as the flames engulf them.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

A strong and booming roar erupts from deep within Will's chest, the deep voice of the Mind Flayer they had caught a glimpse of in the shed, returns at full force. His back arches once more, the back his head digging deep into the pillow. He is shaking violently now, as he had the night the lab had set the tunnels on fire.

Joyce stumbles back as his shaking grows more violent. His head arches back even further against all odds, and that's when they spot it.

"His neck!" Nancy cries, pointing feverishly as she returns to Jonathan's side. "Look at his neck!"

Several thick and dark veins began protruding through his skin as it crawled up his neck, and it looked as if they were full of dark sludge.

"The Mind Flayer's losing," Jonathan mumbles.

Will's head shoots up at the words, the veins have already spread to his face and even stretch across his arms now. They all jump back as his head whips off the bed, his eyes completely black. The Mind Flayer's grip on the boy tightens, his rage stronger than his pain at their audacity to tempt his strength with Henderson's presence.

"AND HE'LL DIE WITH ME!"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The end of Hopper's gun finds its first target, but before he can pull the trigger he sees them writhe and hiss. Their slender bodies begin to shake violently in pain and for a moment he hopes...

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Go, go, go!"

The party does not hesitate, they are already on their feet and begin their sprint for the exit.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The bed begins to shake with him, every muscle in his body tensed with his fists clenched at his sides and shaking. They all watch in horror, his deep screams turn to grunts, not realizing what he is truly doing until it is too late. His left leg bursts free, the rope still dangling around his bleeding ankle and the others scramble to restrain him. His leg reels back before barreling into his mother's ribcage.

With his unnaturally given strength, she is sent flying a couple of feet, landing just in front of the bookshelf. His rage burns as hot as the fire that fuels it.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The fire in the hub spreads, already flames rain down from the ceiling as every inch is consumed.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The Demodogs shrill howls climb even higher, as they twitch. But their attention never leaves Hopper. They crawl and stalk towards him, heads bowed and hissing. They weren't weakened.

They were pissed.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Jonathan rushes to his brother, pinning his one free arm back down.

"You're... gonna lose... him!" The words are spit from Will's mouth, a struggle through the growing pain.

Just as the monster had hoped, Jonathan hesitates, his tearful eyes widening and his whole jaw quivers fighting back a sob. Will's fist breaks loose from his grip and before Jonathan can catch it, it meets his nose sending the older boy flying back into the couch, knocking his breath loose.

Another painful scream erupted as the fire beneath Hawkins spread, but he fights it as much as he can. He was almost free. But most importantly, he couldn't let them win. Not with her on their side.

His black eyes meet with the one they called Nancy, who had been kneeling over Joyce on the floor. Her wide eyes locked onto Will's, and she froze. Her eyes darted to the spike she had left near the pit and she made a run for it.

But he was too quick and had been expecting it. Just as he had with the mother, his heel collided with her jaw and sent her to the floor as he let out a painful scream. Every movement was pure agony, but he knew he could take them now.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Hopper's bullets are sent into several Demodogs, but he only manages to bring down two. The swarm was advancing on him, they had nearly crossed the glass when suddenly they stopped altogether.

In a matter of seconds, each of their screams blended into one and they began to writhe and shake, one of them even collapsed. Its body was still crying out in pain, but it was as if it could hold it's self no longer. One by one they began to mimic their sibling, their twitching growing ever violent. They were rooted in place, they couldn't walk.

That's when Hopper felt it. The ground beneath his feet had begun to rumble, the steady stream of cold air that had drifted in from the gate began to dwindle. He lowered his gun, his attention pulling him all around the room as it began to shake.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Let's go, let's go!"

Steve calls back to the group of kids, unable to run without checking behind him every few moments assuring everyone was with him.

"Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Oh, my god," Dustin pants as he runs.

A screech leaves his throat as he finds himself on the ground once more, but it was no vine or root that tripped him. Everyone felt it, a great rumble that shook their very bones. They all stop and Max helps Dustin up to his feet.

"What is that?" Lucas calls over the booming rumbles.

By now, the vibrations were so intense, the dirt was being shaken loose from the vines and rained down from above.

"I think it's an earthquake!" Mike cries.

A light breeze picks up in the tunnel from where they're headed, carrying with it a warm toasty wave of heat that answered their question.

"No, not an earthquake!" Dustin's eyes went wide from behind his goggles as he looked to others excitedly. "It's Y/n!"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The Henderson child had managed to pull herself from unconsciousness, and she now stood across the bed. Her arms were stretched out before her and a blazing fire resided in her eyes, a grunt pulled from deep within her throat. Three bloody lines where his nails had caught her ran diagonally down her vein covered face. Each vein protruded from her skin as blood poured from her nose and ears.

Like a broken dam, all that raw power trapped inside her burst free. Y/n was a supernova, a sight to behold as everything inside her exploded all around her. She allowed the weight of all that she had endured to shoot to the surface and engulf her completely. It awakened every cell in her body and touched every nerve in her system.

She didn't have to close her eyes to relive the painful memories as she did on the side of the road. The vast and seemingly neverending pool of dark thoughts and feelings swallows her whole and it all washes over her in angry red flashes.

《•••》

Like her friends, she had mounted her bike ready to flee the Wheeler house and away from the bad men who had found them. She paused in fear, looking over her shoulder at the man who stood before his fleet of vans.

He had stark white hair and his slightly wrinkled face and surrounding him was an aura of menace.

It was him. Martin Brenner, the power-hungry man responsible for the threat that had reached Hawkins. And the man obsessed with Eleven. And herself as she would soon discover.

It was the same man who struck fear into her very soul only minutes ago through the window.

His cold eyes bore into El, but then he turned his attention to her. Something about him and the way his eyes were fixed on herself... it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Her blood ran cold.

It was the day he had caught her scent.

•••

"Dustin? Dustin!" She shrieks.

Her brother's desperate calls for her break her heart, but it turns to fire when she hears the man's voice.

"Y/n, don't fight it. You belong with us. We are your true home. Come home to us, Nine"

•••

The intense and raw ache of her heart as she choked on every moment of silence El was in the bath. Everyone surrounds her as she floats silently amongst the saltwater, everyone including Y/n watching with bated breath. When her voice breaks the silence it is a soft whimper, a plea for life as she says the boy's name.

"Will?"

Y/n's hands grip the edge of the pool so tight she fears the skin of her knuckles will tear. Every moment of silence is devastating but the small snivel of Will over the walkie and what he says, deliver the final dagger to her heart.

"Y/n?"

《•••》

Y/n can feel the dagger even now, the devastating weight of all the strain and heartbreak flooding her lungs and escaping in an ear-piercing scream that moved the earth.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

El joined Hopper's side in cautious steps as she traveled through the tremors, her hand coming to wrap around his elbow to steady herself. Her widened brown eyes were surveying the shaking world around them, and she could see rubble breaking loose and raining down from the ceilings around them. The warm burst of heat hit her face and neck, and that is when her eyes meet with Hopper when it finally clicked.

Simultaneously their attention is pulled to the gate where the entire army of Demodogs begins collapsing into the dark abyss one by one. The darkness swallows their bodies and their many lingering wails of agony as they fall.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The underground team looked at one another in astonishment as the reality settled in, their hands still clinging to the grimy walls around them for balance. Steve broke from his temporary stupor and began waving the kids out.

"Come on, team, keep it moving! Keep it movin'!"

They fell into action, clambering back into line as they tried to make a break for the exit. They were close, but still had several turns to make. Steve helped the children through, catching them as they fell and sending them on their way with his eyes above their heads watching carefully. All the while in his sprint, Dustin cries out proudly into the air, a beaming smile hidden behind his bandana.

"Yeah, that's my fucking sister!"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The world bent at Y/n's will, everything not screwed to the walls or floors broke loose as the cabin moved around all inside it. It was a movement so forceful and demanding, it moved all of Hawkins. A guttural battle cry pierced the air as her powers exploded into an unstoppable force that had awakened her full potential.

《•••》

"She disappeared... Bang," El said slowly, a saddened frown forming on her face. "Gone."

"So, my mom? She's...?" Y/n took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in her throat and El nodded.

•••

"Jane, let me put it this way. Does it not bother you that not only did your friend get a better life than us, but our lives were made worse because of it?"

•••

"This could be your home, you said it yourself, we're sisters[...] We'll look after each other. We understand each other. Y/n will never understand you. But I do. Would you like that, Jane?"

•••

"That pesky tag-along friend of hers, what about her?"

"I have no use for her. She's not to be trusted, I want her gone by morning."

《•••》

The heartbreak that fills her up inside no longer slows her down but instead fuels the fire in her chest. Not the Mind Flayer's hatred for her, but the fact it was using her best friend as a puppet. The awful things he was doing to Will, not only to hurt him but the ones he cared about.

《•••》

"Get out!" She winces, but this time she doesn't listen to him. "GO AWAY!"

"No. Not until I talk to Will."

"GO AWAY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY!"

"-Will," Joyce tries.

Will's small frame starts to move again, fighting as hard as he can against the restraints under the harsh light in the shed. His teeth are bared and his usual warm and kind eyes are dark and cold as they burn holes into her skull. Hopper has to pin him back again, but the hatred bottled up inside him for her is undeniable.

•••

"NO! NO! GO AWAY! NO! GET THE HELL OUT!" He screams. "GET OUT! GET AWAY! GET AWAY! GET AWAY!"

•••

Y/n watched tearfully as Joyce began to choke on her words at the pride of her son as she listened intently from the corner with a simultaneous swelling, and breaking of her heart. "You said she should have it because she was sad. She's sad, Mom, and I want to make that go away."

"I love you so much," Joyce tearfully coos. "So, so much."

The heartbreak evident in Joyce's voice brings a whole new level of pain to her heart, unable to imagine the position Joyce was in as his mother. The thought of watching your son endure such a horrific thing, not knowing if he'll even survive. It pissed her off even more.

•••

"...I asked you why you were being so nice to me, why you wanted me to be apart of your group,"

A small sob came out in the form of a chuckle, and she wiped a tear off her cheek.

"And you told me it was because..." her lip quivers as the words tumble out. "because that was your birthday wish."

A tear slips down Will's cheek, but his expression remains as still as stone. She can practically hear the breaking of her heart as she sees Will losing his battle before her very eyes. His body shakes violently in an attempt to regain control but the Mind Flayer quickly pulls him back down, swallowing him in darkness as he tries to silence him.

《•••》

Each of these moments are enough to send her over the edge, but the words she had yet to shake from her mind were the ones to do the trick. The words still bouncing violently around her skull, taunting her and reminding her that they were all moments away from losing Will forever.

As the storm inside her reaches its peak, swirling around her head and heart in a violent mass closing in on her, all she can hear are the last words she had heard from her best friend before he had attacked her.

"KILL HER, DAMMIT! KILL HER! KILL HER!"

The room grew from dim to blinding in a matter of astonish-filled moments.

Her s/c skin began to glow like a star, the cosmic force at work pumping hard through her veins. Nancy, Jonathan, and Joyce watched in awe as she comes alive, all the while Will's small and trembling frame twisting and kicking as he is engulfed in searing pain.

His screams vibrate with his body before his small frame shrinks in on itself like a dead spider. He straightens in seconds, his head, hands, and feet now glued to the bed as he bends in one final arc, his chest rising to the heavens. Will's mouth opens in another scream and a billowing cloud of inky black smoke escapes. It twists and unravels out from between his lips like a pitch-black tornado.

It grows larger and larger, circling over the boy and looms over the entire room as it had the last few days. Will's body goes limp, falling back onto the mattress as the dark mass zips across the room and through the front door breaking it open.

Nancy quickly recovers her footing and chases it out of the door to assure it's leaving for good. Sure enough, when she reaches the porch she spots the black dust circle the trees before disappearing into the sky.

The first thing that stops is the light, all that illuminates the room now is the dim lamps they had flipped on and light of the flames. Everything in the room begins to settle, the rattling of dishes and furniture, and dust rained down from the ceiling from where it had broken loose.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

By now, their trek back to the exit is halfway through, their gloves now completely damp from grasping the walls as they navigate through the tremors. But they find themselves slowing, meeting each other's eye excitedly when the earth gradually steadies again.

They picked up speed immediately, eager not only to escape the tunnels but to see their friend - and sister - again.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

A thud breaks the shocked silence as Y/n collapses to her hands and knees, coughing and panting for breath. The room is blurry and she only catches every other word. Her arms feel just as weak and strained and she allows herself to collapse against the wall nearby.

The scuffling of shoes enters her subconscious as she fights to understand what's going on. Y/n can barely register what is happening when she feels a hand lightly touch her shoulder. She nods either way and the figure scurries away.

It had been Joyce, who had pulled herself up from the ground and came to check on Y/n when she gave the all-clear. Her eyelids weighed a thousand pounds and she could feel herself falling asleep against the wall. She tried to stay awake, to know if Will was okay but again she found herself catching every few moments.

All heaters now unplugged, the door left open to let in the cold autumn air.

Jonathan had helped untie the rest of his restraints, and Joyce now sat at his bedside as he lay unconscious. His eyes were sunken, his eyelids dark. He was still awfully pale but already he looked more himself. Will's limp body shifts around as his mother lightly tries to shake him awake, her chest sore and her throat strained but she doesn't care. She just wants her baby.

"Will," she sobs. "Will. Please, Will. Will."

Through sobs of his own, Jonathan places one trembling hand onto his brother's head, brushing away the stray hairs as pleas leave his lips. "Come on, buddy. Come on."

"Please," Joyce wails. "Can you hear me?"

"Come on,"

"Will?"

With great struggle, his eyelids finally flutter open. When Will sees who is in front of him, he feels relief overwhelm him. His lips tug into a weak smile, eliciting an excited gasp from his mother.

"Mom?"

Will feels his limp and drained body being pulled into his mother's embrace, he happily welcomes it. His sobs of relief are buried in her hair and he can feel his shoulder dampening further with her own tears. His eyes are squeezed shut, and despite his lack of strength, he squeezes with all his might, never wanting to let go. He was all too afraid none of it was real, and he doesn't realize it to be possible but his happiness grows when he feels his brother join the hug. Jonathan locks his long arms around his family, like them, not ever wanting to let go.

Nancy has already returned, and when she found the Byers in a tearful embrace, she was happy to know the youngest was now okay. But worry remained and quickly she maneuvered through the now cluttered cabin floor to Y/n's side and knelt to her knees to check on the poor girl.

Y/n's head was propped up against the wall, her chest moved up and down in shallow breaths but the blood seemed to have stopped flowing. Nancy lays a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder, pulling her from sleep. Y/n looks up around the room, trying to see through her foggy vision who was with her now.

Nancy whispered to her softly, her thumb subconsciously running soothing circles into her shoulder as her mother always did for her when she was unwell. "Y/n, are you okay?"

"I..."

She tries to speak, but her mouth is too dry. Her dry tongue meets her dried and cracked lips as she tries to find her voice and that is when she notes the taste of salty copper on her tongue. Her blood had mixed with tears, she hadn't even realized she had been crying. When her vision clears, it lands on Will's trembling form as he clings to his mother and brother in relief.

Her eyes begin to sting, and she looks at Nancy, trying to form words but none seem to come. It feels as if a rock sits in her throat, and she can feel more tears streak down her cheeks stinging the scratches on her face. She should be happy that Will was alright! She was, but what she had just done...

It was all too much for her at that moment, and sobs choked her airways. Y/n's limbs were growing heavier by the second and she felt herself collapse into Nancy's shoulder. Nancy pulled Y/n in, her eyebrows knitting together in a sorrowful frown. Y/n's tears and blood soaked her neck and shirt further, and like Joyce, she couldn't care less. Her arms wrapped around the girl's shaking form and began rubbing her back soothingly.

"You did it, Y/n," she whispers, eyes closed, holding back tears of her own. "You were so great..."

The words coax another sob out of the Henderson girl as all her emotions come flooding out, no longer held back. The words Nancy speaks to her are the words she hadn't known she had needed to hear.

"It's okay," she mutters. "It's over, now. You can rest."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The rest of the pack had disappeared down into the abyss, Hopper's right arm still secured tightly around El's shoulders in a protective manner. The warm wind gusting through the broken glass separating them from the abyss gingerly fades away, allowing the cold atmosphere leaking in from the gate to return.

The earth had stilled completely, leaving behind an eery silence that rose the hair on the back of their necks. They didn't have to say anything, but when their eyes met, they knew then and there that Will was safe.

Y/n had done it.

As if reading their thoughts, the walkie Hopper holsters crackle loudly disrupting the deafening silence, and Jonathan's voice booms over the other side.

"Chief, are you there? Chief, do you copy?"

Hopper hastily draws the walkie from his pocket and up to his lips, his breath shaky. "Yeah, I copy."

"..."

Both pairs of eyes land on the gate before them as Jonathan speaks, dread soaks them to the very bone and the icy chill returns to the stale air.

"Close it."

||Reader's POV||

"Close it,"

It takes about all the energy I have but I manage to peel my eyes open at the sound of Jonathan's voice. He's speaking into a ham radio attached to the wall, and his face is hardened in a frown.

The room shakes once very suddenly, or at least it feels like it does as my head throbs. I groan, my eyes screwing shut. I hear more footsteps, and the low steady creak of the bedsprings dipping as Jonathan takes a seat next to his brother.

It all washes over me again, the intensity of it all. My chest tightens and I feel more tears brimming. It hurts to breathe, to move my chest since my entire body is aching, every muscle.

But I also feel... Really good. Finally confronting all of my pain, and letting it all out... In a way, it felt like fresh air and natural light streaming in after years of living in a dark and stale room. The change felt good.

It's an intense and bizarre cocktail of emotions that barred my thinking and made it hard to function. But over it all, I know one thing for sure. I need to rest.

I'm not sure I could do anything else if I tried, but I'm just thankful it's over. And above all, that Will is safe. Still, I can't quite wrap my head around what I had just accomplished, everything that still sits on the surface.

I feel more tears squeeze past my eyelids as the grief washes over me in its usual steady waves. They streak down the sides of my face and disappear through my scalp, tickling my cheeks as they glide across my skin. It finally clicks that I'm no longer on the floor, but the others must have moved me to the couch where I now lay on my back, head propped against a woolen pillow. The searing hot tears diverge in many paths in a new batch and now soak into the creases of my ears.

My joints scream at me in protest as I reach limply to swipe away as many tears as I can, my eyes still closed and my lip screwed in a quiver. On instinct, my palms travel across my face as I try to rub away the tears, and the blood from my nose and ears but I surprise myself with a whimper.

I barely register a small and gentle gasp and the scuffle of footsteps heading towards me as I try to understand why my face is stinging. I feel the couch dip slightly, and a pair of soft hands touch my wrists urging me to pull away. Soft shushing captures my attention and I recognize it to be Joyce. I fight against the pain of the soft light illuminating the cabin that sears my throbbing head to look at her, and it takes a moment to adjust but for the first time since I opened my eyes I can see clearly now.

Joyce sits next to me, her eyes are swimming in tears as looks at me and her lips are stretched across her face in a beaming smile, though her bottom lip still quivers. I feel more tears escape as I try to find words, but none come and that seems to break her more.

She shakes her head with the same expression still fixed on her face and sniffles. When she speaks her voice is still hoarse and raspy but I can still make out the pride in it.

"I know, honey. I'm so, so sorry." I feel her hand intertwine with mine and give it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm so sorry,"

Through my blurry vision I make out Nancy's figure approach us from behind me, and she hands something to Joyce who mutters a thank you. Her hand releases mine as she unfolds what Nancy had brought her, and I realize now that it's a wet cloth. She bunches it up and meets my eyes with a soft motherly gaze.

"This might sting a little, but it'll help, okay?"

I nod, my eyes fluttering closed again as a shakey sigh escapes. I feel the cool cloth meet my skin, stinging the three prominent streaks across my face. I bite back a hiss, feeling soothed just ever so as I hear her muttering softly to me.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Almost done,"

The worst of the pain begins to fade and my eyes flutter back open. She pulls the cloth away to turn it over, and I spot the dark smears of blood already soaked inside. She brings it back to my face, dabbing away the dried up streaks that had tightened my skin under my nose and the streaks under my ears.

Joyce pulls away, bunching up the cloth dropping it in her lap forgotten, her eyes back on me. It hurts to swallow, so I can feel the uncomfortable build up in my mouth as more tears seem to brim. I catch Joyce's hands gently reaching for mine and I let her take it, both her calloused but soft hands sandwich my own and it forces me to meet her eyes.

"You are so, so brave," she chokes, tears spilling from her eyes. "and so strong..."

Her head shakes back and forth slightly as if trying to will the tears away but she can't. She can only try to compose herself long enough to get the words out. Her right-hand breaks free and her thumb gently wipes away one of many stray tears on my cheek and comes to stroke my chin in one gentle swipe.

"I'll never be able to thank you properly for what you just did..." her lip quivers violently now, but the large smile returns, breaking out on her face as she speaks with absolute certainty. "I am so proud of you,"

An audible sob shakes my body, and with some struggle - and help from her - I pull myself up and into Joyce's arms. She gladly pulls me in, sobs leaving her lips as well and I feel a different kind of warmth spread through my chest, all the way to my fingertips and toes. It wasn't a hostile warmth, but a comforting one, and I realize for the first time why both her and Nancy's embrace and words meant so much to me.

It was the warm motherly reassurance I hadn't realized I'd been missing. My own mother had no knowledge of my powers, my past, anything that had truly happened in the past year. And therefore knew nothing of the enormous weight the Upside Down, my powers, Will, all of it, had on me. And to have the acceptance and reassurance of Joyce - even Nancy - after going so long without it, felt almost intoxicating in the moment.

I burrowed my head in the crook of her shoulder, and as Nancy did, her palms rubbed soothing circles into my back as she let me cry into her hair. I kept hearing her mutter the words softly in my ears, assuring the words stuck inside my brain so I wouldn't ever forget it.

"I'm so proud, baby, so proud," her voice was low and soothing and she cradled me. "You did so good."

My heartbeat had already slowed significantly in her embrace, and it felt as if I had melted into her shoulder. She never broke the hug, showing me she was here for me as long as I needed her which I greatly appreciated. Finally, my eyes fluttered open and I slowly pull away.

For the first time since waking, I am getting a good look around the cabin, and my mouth parts slightly in shock. It looked as if it had been ransacked, so many things had fallen to the floor and I looked at her worriedly. She smiled, shaking her head.

"It's okay hon, it's fixable," she assured, she then picks up the bloodied cloth from her lap and sends me a reassuring smile. "I'll be right back,"

I nod silently, still fighting back a wince as I look behind me at the fallen stools at the breakfast bar and the many things littering the floor that had once been on shelves. The lamp on the table had fallen over and several shards of glass from the bulb were sprinkled across the table and floor.

My eyes wander back to the living room and my breath catches in my throat when I see Will. Jonathan and Nancy sat on either side of him talking to one another as well as him. But he was looking at me, and I felt my heartbeat spike significantly. His face was full of guilt as he had been examining my face, most likely where he must have scratched me. He didn't break away when I met his gaze, and for a moment we shared silent apologies.

I offered him a weak smile, telling him it was okay and he seemed to melt. And yet, the sight was enough to make my insides melt as well. It was such a wonderful sight to see after the past few days, knowing and seeing him okay. My stomach begins to flutter when I see a blush creep up on his cheeks. It wasn't hard to spot given his still paled skin, but I felt the heat rising in my cheeks as well.

But just as soon our attention was pulled to the lights around the cabin. It drew everyone's attention, including Joyce who paused at the kitchen sink as the lights grew brighter and brighter. The cabin grew blindingly bright for the second time that night, and halfheartedly my palms raised off my lap to silently say 'it isn't me this time.'

My brain races to connect the dots as my eyes squint through the blinding light of the bulbs when it finally clicks. Jonathan and Nancy seem to have made the same connection when I meet their wide-eyed stare, the word tumbling out of my mouth in a whisper.

"Eleven."

||3rd Person POV||

༄ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 ༄

The final lock is secured with a defined click, signifying the end of Hawkins Laboratory. One of the final many guards to lock up steps away from one of many chained up entrances revealing the large signs plastered over the wall behind him.

WARNING RESTRICTED AREA

The man climbs aboard the jeep and no sooner does it take off down the main exit of the now-abandoned lot, bleeding into line with the rest of the troops.

Thanks to Nancy and Jonathan and the help of an eccentric conspiracist, Murray Bauman during the unfolding events of the prior month, the three had concocted a plan to take down Hawkins Lab. With enough proof - a secret audio tape of Sam Owens discussing the cover-up of Barb's death - were able to fabricate a smaller conspiracy big enough to take down the lab.

A conspiracy that was now being broadcasted nationwide.

"Since the release of the incendiary tape, the once quiet town of Hawkins, Indiana, has spent time in a place it never expected."

One by one the line of military troops file out of the main entrance to the lab for good. Sat comfortably in a lawn chair outside his parked van was none other than Murray Bauman, who watched the parade of troops merrily with a smug grin on his bespeckled face.

"The national spotlight."

The man giggled happily, one hand leaving his pocket and waving an exaggerated salute at the man in the jeep. Glaring as the car carried him by, he sent the smug man the finger without breaking contact from the road. Murray's giggles only grow more mischievous, and he sends a very kiddish wave to the rest, his cheeks sore from smiling.

"Under mounting pressure, several high-ranking members from the U.S Department of Energy have admitted involvement in the death and cover-up,"

Several sullen figures dressed all in black surround the polished coffin being lowered into the ground. Three of these figures, Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, and Steve Harrington.

"of Hawkins resident Barbara Holland who died due to exposure to an experimental chemical asphyxiant, which had leaked from the grounds of the lab."

Mr. And Mrs. Holland stand in each other's embrace at their daughters grave in tears, grasping tightly to one another. The long search for their daughter over in the most devastating conclusion.

"We send our own April Kline to Hawkins to speak to residents,"

The news anchor's voice echoes throughout the Hideaway bar from the small television set sat high on the shelf. The walls and shelves are decorated with many chunky Christmas lights for the upcoming holiday. The bar is filled with small chatter that fades out over the TV and the occasional clinking of glasses.

"residents who told us they thought they lived in a safe town. A kind of town where, they say, nothing ever happens."

The entrance to the Hideaway is pulled open with little strain, the warm air trapped inside is swept out with the demanding winter breeze that quickly takes its place. Wrapped up in a thick winter coat, Hopper steps inside and takes a quick look around. It hadn't changed much since his last visit over a year ago during his investigation of the lab and Will's "death". Funny enough, he used to frequent the place often, but since El had entered his life, he had quickly lost interest.

His eyes find the man he had come here to meet across the bar, sat at one of several booths enjoying a ham and turkey sandwich. Making his way across the bar, Hopper discards his heavy jacket, folding it up against his chest and tossing it in the corner of the booth before taking a seat across from Dr. Sam Owens.

"Cheif-o," the man pipes with a smile.

"How's the leg?" Hopper questions with a small smile.

Owens nods, swallowing the last of his bite and gestures to his right leg.

"Better," he chips. "Pretty sure my football career is over."

The two men share a small chuckle. Owens picks up the half of his sandwich he had touched and pushed the plate full of chips and the rest of the sandwich across the table in offering.

"Want some of this? No way I'm gonna finish it."

A tight, polite smile plasters over Hopper's face as he waves it off and gives him a shake of the head.

"No. I'm, uh... on a diet." He admits, thinking of El.

He had done a lot of thinking, and he knew now that he wanted this kid in his life for good. And that meant taking good care of himself so she had someone looking out for her.

It was also the very reason for this visit, and why he had been so anxious to talk to Owens. He stared at the man across from him as he spoke. Not bothered to try and hide the intimidation in his eyes as he prepared to reap the threat that was sown back in Hawkins Lab all those nights ago.

"Well, you're a better man than me," Owens says, immediately perking as he turns to his discarded jacket pocket. "Hey, got a little something for you."

Hopper sighs, leaning further back in his seat a bit taken aback. He watches curiously as Owens pulls a sealed white envelope out, places it on the table, and slides it across into his hand.

With a furrowed brow, Hopper picks it up and the envelope opens with a small crinkle. A somewhat thick piece of parchment lays inside that makes his heart skip a beat, all previous intimidations he was prepared to throw at the doctor vanish completely. He tucks the ends out of the envelope to get a better look, also being cautious of any possible prying eyes but no matter how many times he reads the words it doesn't seem real.

STATE OF INDIANA Certificate of Birth

This Certifies that according to records if the State of Indiana

Name 𝙹𝙰𝙽𝙴 𝙷𝙾𝙿𝙿𝙴𝚁​​​​​​ Was born in 𝙷𝙰𝚆𝙺𝙸𝙽𝚂 Child of 𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙰 𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚂

"Congratulations, Pops," Owens smirks.

Hopper's wide eyes dart to across the table to the man watching his reaction. "I thought--"

Owens shrugged. "Sometimes I impress even myself."

Hopper slips the parchment back into the sleeve, and folds up the envelope before slipping it into his jacket pocket where he wouldn't lose it. His defenses creep back up at what the man says next, though not as bad given the progress.

"Still, I'd let things cool off for a while, if I were you."

Hopper subconsciously squares his shoulders, his long and bulky arms coming to stretch across the table in an intimidating manner. His brows bunch together in a creased frown, tilting his head.

"How long is a while?"

He tries to remain patient with the man, but it proves more difficult than anticipated considering the heavy weight of his guilt. Hopper couldn't deny he played just a big of a part in El's captivity in the cabin, even if it was out of good intentions. All the more reason he was now determined to make it right.

"Want to be safe? Give it a year," Owens answers.

Hopper's brows shoot up. "A year?"

Shit.

His chest deflates in a sigh and snatches the untouched sandwich off the plate, taking a rather large bite out of the side. He thinks for a moment, an idea forming in his head.

"What about one night out?"

"One night?"

"Yeah," he hardens, quickly attaching himself to the idea, knowing how important it was to El. "How risky would that be?"

"What's so important about one night?"

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Link down below in the comments as usual, and of course, BLACK LIVES MATTER!!

Portland Freedom Fund

"PFF is a fund that pays bail for vulnerable populations charged with crimes in the Portland area so they may navigate their case from a position of freedom"

[Link]

'Demand Racial Data on Coronavirus' and 'Coronavirus: Demand More From Your Government'

"Join us and sign both of the petitions below today. Demand Racial Data on Coronavirus We are losing our friends, family, and neighbors at unprecedented and disproportionate rates as COVID-19 tears through our communities. We will be hit…"

[Link]

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[coasttocoastreads]

Welcome back to Week 2 of Coast to Coast Reads! Who’s still alive? Katya and I are dying while social distancing, but at least we had a few laughs discussing this book:

Crescent City (House of Blood and Earth) // Sarah J Maas

★★ / ★★★★★

Summary in one two gif(s):

Real Summary:

Crescent City, a place where vanir (supernatural beings such as angels, fae, shifters, etc.) and humans freely mingle and go about their days. Bryce Quilan is a 20-something fae/human who’s still reeling from the murder of her friends 2 years ago. But after she’s commissioned to help search for an ancient artifact, Bryce, along with her new angel partner Hunt, unearth previously buried secrets about the murder that threaten to expose a worldwide conspiracy. 

Pros:

Great side characters. I would die for each and every one of them.

Lots of different mythological creatures! Not just another Fae Book™️

Cons:

It’s literally ToG 2-7 combined. If you read Throne of Glass, you’ve already been spoiled for this book. 💀💀💀

It’s wayyyy too long

Drags a lot in the beginning

Plot .5/5 (the .5 is for you, Lehaba)

What can I say. SJM literally plagiarized herself by taking the plotline of the tog books and translating it to this new setting. The writing itself was subpar, and most of the time it felt like the author herself had no idea where the plot was going, instead letting it drag on until a plot twist that makes no sense is revealed. (You’ll know which one I’m talking about when you get there.) I’ll compare CC with ToG with spoilers under the cut. 

Pacing 2/5

The beginning is full of info-dumping as SJM tries to set up this world which is metaphorically like ours, but everyone’s hot and does fantasy cocaine all the time.  It narrates boring day-to-day schedules that could have been condensed into a paragraph and at times I was tempted to skip ahead. The plot does pick up near the last 25% though, so I’ll give it that. 

Worldbuilding 2.5/5

It was confusing. To be fair, after all the info was dumped at the beginning, I didn’t bother going back to try to figure things out when they popped up again after. But like still??? I think I only started understanding the hierarchy of the government with the Asterrii(?). Also what are the Triarii I am still lost. SJM attempts to blend a more modern society with one of fantasy creatures, and for the most part it succeeds, but it often just feels...strange. I think the one thing I’m most hung up about is why swords and guns still coexist. Like ??????? it’s one or the other plssssss abandon the “aesthetic” Also while they literally have cell phones and keurig machines there aren’t common things like cars? Why.

Characters: (This is unconventional, bear with me)

Main Characters: -infinity/5 they could go die for all I care

Bryce and Hunt were both super unlikeable, 10/10 would let fall from a cliff. They are literally just rewrites of Aelin and Rowan? Bryce is like ahahaha yeah people think I’m Just a dumb vapid Female™️ who parties too much and gets trashed but SIKE I’m actually the chosen one and I’ve been hiding it this whole time because I didn’t want to hurt people’s feelings uwu. And did I mention I’m actually a trained Warrior who can keep up with The Boys? It’s Aelin y’all. There are numerous times where a character says that she’s not stupid and I’m like...are you sure... This girl makes the poorest decisions, yet ofc, there aren’t any long term consequences... (Also 99% of her problems come from ghosting people literally just respond with “k” sis)

Hunt is... idek what to say about Hunt. He’s just Rowan but in angel form. His inner monologue cycles between I must pay off my debt so I can gain Freedom 😔, why is Bryce so hot 🥴, and Shahar 😭. Once again, literally Rowan who also was bound to some evil villain, had the hots for their CENTURIES YOUNGER pupil/protectee, and had an old lover die tragically which led to them believing they can never find love again UNTIL BryLin comes along. Snooze. 

Side Characters: Infinity/5 

Ruhn Danaan was the most valid character and that’s the hill I’ll die on. He literally just wanted to protect his sister cuz she’s stupid af but she keeps pushing him away bc he’s an “alphahole” (haha how subversive :/) I want a whole book about him and Hypaxia, preferably fanfiction so I don’t have to read “soft feminine breathing” ever again.

Literally all the supporting cast- Lehaba, Therion, Ithan, Jesiba, Flynn, Connor, etc, etc. had more compelling characters and side stories than Bryce/Hunt. I was 100% more invested in them and I can’t wait to read/write more about them. 

(Pls let me marry Jesiba Roga or Therion 🥺)

But while the people on the “good” side were spectacular, the villains all felt one-dimensional and the product of over-recycled and overused tropes mashed together. Sandriel and Pollux are literally just Maeve and Cairn (is that his name)

I’d recommend for:

People who loved Throne of Glass and are lamenting the absence of new content. Please read about Rowaelin 2.0

People stuck at home during this global crisis and have too much time on their hands. (If you need that free epub, hmu)

People who are willing to skip all scenes that feature just Bryce and/or Hunt 

People who hate themselves

Would I travel here?

Sorry, what? Already shredded my passport, not getting a replacement, sorry. 

Overall thoughts:

I wish I could somehow take those hours of my life back but alas. 

See y’all in two weeks with a hopefully better book selection,

Tiff

Spoilers under cut

Okay time to VENT

OKAY so CC=ToG, let’s break down how

Danika’s death is the Nehemia Incident, setting the mc up for a journey of self discovery/reclaiming their power. They both show up as ghosts later to encourage mc in a time of great self-struggle.

Syrinx if Fleetfoot. bc all female mc’s need a pet to reveal her Feminine and Soft side

Sandriel and Pollux are Maeve and Cairn. Evil female character with vast power and her torturer? COOKIE CUTTER FORMULA. The scene where Bryce offers herself up for Hunt in the lobby also kinda mirrors that scene in..HoF? QoS? Don’t remember, but pretty sure that happened. Also that scene was so fucking dumb, I really thought Bryce had a Smart Plan, but I was bamboozled once again. 

A gem from my notes: “Bryce is Aelin but with cocaine”

I think the whole demon portal thing is a ripoff of ACOWAR (or is it KoA I can’t even remember), sacrificing yourself to close the rift, etc, etc. 

Anyways, Bryce = Aelin, a party-girl front with a sob backstory that’s her superpower origin story who always has a Plan. 

Hunt = Rowan, broody warrior busy repaying debts getting orders they don’t want while pining over a lost love. They reluctantly let the female mc in and voila they’re in LOVE

The whole “plot twist” that revealed Hunt’s true plan along was so fucking dumb...

It wasn’t a plot twist, it was just plain bad writing

There was no set up at all, nothing alluding to Hunt secretly masterminding an attempted coup with the help of Magic Meth

The whole time I was like “...this is part of their plan right. There’s no way he legit planned this...”

Character’s POVs should reveal what they’re thinking, even if you’re just hinting at something to reveal later...this was just lazy

Another thing that really rubbed me the wrong way was the sudden reveal that Fury and Juniper had been in a relationship the whole time? Despite like above, there was no prior allusion to that?

It felt like half-assed representation at best and completely irrelevant to the story with it coming up again in a throwaway line near the end

Also? I’m fairly certain there was a scene in the beginning where they were all out clubbing and Juniper hooked up with some rando while Fury was also at the club with them? Was this before they got together or did SJM insert this so last minute that no one caught it?

Wtf is sunball. Can someone just help me out here.

Some people have been saying Hunt is Asian coded? Where???!!!!! All I’m seeing is the same stuff she pulled in ACOTAR where all the Illyrians were tan so people could claim they were poc for woke points but not get in trouble for art depicting them as white ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

SJM pls stay away from “like calls to like” you don’t deserve it

[darlingpetao3]

The Best Parts of Loving You (Harry Wells x Reader)

Rating: M (Smut)

Summary: You’re supposed to be working on your thesis, and Harry’s supposed to be developing his next innovative piece of tech… but you get distracted (and playful) and tempt Harry into taking a shared break.

A/N: This one-shot is different from what I normally do - it’s entirely in Harry’s perspective! @central-city-meta-pocalypse and I had the most fun ever writing in his POV when we wrote Rewrite the Stars together, so I wanted to do more of that. I really hope you like this one :)

~gif does not belong to me - all credit to the owner(s)~

Her voice snapped me out of my attention to the intricate details on this new piece of tech for the company.

“Harry?” Her voice was honey-like, smooth and running deliciously through my head as if she wanted something. I knew the tone well.

“Yes, (Y/N)?” I replied, looking at her, then back to finish screwing in this bolt with its last few twists.

“I think I need help,” she said. My lips turned up at her words. If there was one thing my fiancée didn’t need, it was help. (Y/N) was working on her thesis on her hideously outdated laptop opposite me at my desk. She claimed she wanted company while she did so, and I was happy to oblige. We often worked together, separately, on our respective endeavours. It was one of my favourite things.

“I highly doubt that, my dear, but what do you need help with?”

“I need help taking off my clothes.”

The screwdriver fell out of my hand and clanged on my office’s floor. I lifted my head to meet her eyes - tempting and hungry.

“You do?”

“Mhm,” (Y/N) hummed. Silky and melodious.

“But your thesis?” I said inarticulately.

“I can’t concentrate when all I can think about is your body against mine.”

I’m sure this was partly true. She was notorious for becoming distracted (honestly, an endearing quality I found quite, well, cute would be the most accurate word). And when (Y/N) got like this, in one of her ‘moods,’ there was only one thing she could think about.

“Oh, um, well, try to. Concentrate, I mean. You’ll thank yourself later when you win the Nobel Prize.”

I had to ignore her come-ons for her benefit. How in the Multiverse would she be able to finish her good work otherwise? I picked up my tool from the ground and went back to working on the Extrapolator.

Oh no, she’s getting up. She’s on the move.

(Y/N) walked around my desk to stand behind my chair.

“Are you saying you don’t want to take my clothes off?” Her warm and slender fingers ran themselves through my hair. My synapses fired with pleasure, and I was certain I had somehow become a mere canine - indulging in the way she touched me. Her massaging hands wandered down to my shoulders and unknowingly released a lot of the tension that had built up in my muscles.

“N-no, that’s not what I’m saying,” I clarified with an accidental stutter. (Y/N)’s hands ran down my arms, squeezing my biceps before feeling up my chest. I hadn’t realized how much I craved her touch. We’d been so occupied with our own personal projects as of late, so there hadn’t been much time to, you know.

“So you do?” her voice floated quietly into my ear. “You want me naked on your desk?”

I gave a nervous laugh. Even after all our time together, even though we were engaged, she still made me nervous.

But in the absolute best way, naturally.

“I didn’t say that either.”

But now I do want that.

I took her hands in mine to stop the glorious caress of her hands. “This is for your own good, (Y/N). No matter how much...” I trailed off.

“Finish that sentence, Hare,” she ordered me. I swallowed.

“No matter how much I want that, too.” She moved in front of me where I sat and proceeded to lower herself onto my lap. Her hips wiggled mischievously, creating a rousing feeling within me - more so than before, anyway.

“You want it, huh?” (Y/N) asked. She started to undo her pure white blouse, button by button, at a painfully unhurried pace until it dropped to the floor.

“You’re not going to... to tempt me.” My voice betrayed my attempt at being resolute.

“Oh no? Not if I do this?” She bent down, her gorgeous breasts just below my line of vision, and nibbled on my earlobe. I exhaled shakily. I tried to adjust myself in my pants, but (Y/N) caught on.

“Or this?”

Her hand snaked down to rub me through my pants. I felt myself grow at her touch. My head tilted back, eyes closed, and I stifled a groan.

“Well, then,” she said, backing off of me, “I guess I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

That’s when (Y/N) got up, turned around and ever so carefully - an intentional slowness - shimmied down her skirt. She peeked over her shoulder to watch my reaction (I was certain it was something she was thrilled by, thanks to her smile), then hopped up on my desk. Her fingers glided up her bare thigh, and up to the hem of her black lace panties. I half-thought she’d worn that pair on purpose, as she knew those were my favourite pair she wore, but I said half-thought because the other half of my brain was spiralling out of control. I watched her hand cup herself under the fabric. Her little sound of pleasure at having her fingers toy with herself only heightened my arousal.

That should be me. That should be me eliciting those incredible noises.

(Y/N) looked at me through her lashes, mouth open and inviting. She laughed and worked herself even more.

Fuck.

That was it.

I stood up swiftly and kissed those soft pink lips of hers, my hand gripping her wrist.

“I give,” I conceded breathily.

“Yeah, you do.”

I kissed (Y/N) again, and I was positive she could feel my smile on her lips. Replacing her hand with mine, I felt her between her legs. Good God, the way she glossed up my fingers… I imagined being inside her, feeling the same perfect slickness surrounding me. Maybe she sensed my train of thought because (Y/N) now worked at my belt and zipper.

“Seems to me you’ll go to any length to distract yourself from work,” I noted.

“You’re only figuring this out now?” she teased. “And you’ve known me how long?”

My chuckle turned into a groan when she wrapped her perfect hand around me and gave me a gentle squeeze. She pulled me out from my confines and licked her lips.

I pulled her panties down her legs, and she scooted closer to me on the desktop, enveloping her legs around my hips. I let my hands fall to her waist.

“Distract me good, baby,” she breathed out.

Pressing my pelvis forward, I slicked myself up with her arousal. She hummed in contentment, eyes fluttering. I rested at her entrance a moment and made sure to steady my gaze on her beautiful face to witness her expression the moment I entered her.

Now, that had to be my favourite part.

(Y/N) gasped with widened and lustful eyes. I, in turn, made a low and guttural noise at the feel of her tight accommodation. She felt like home.

I took her lips in mine again and pushed further inside her wet heat. My tongue greeted hers happily. Her hand met my cheek.

“Harrison, yes.” She elongated the affirmation in a moan. By now, I knew her body like my own, Maybe better than my own. I knew what made her tick and gasp and pant and lose herself. Each push into her felt better than the last.

“Keep going,” she ushered greedily, “yes, just like that, baby.”

My mouth trailed away from hers, along her jaw, and onto her neck. (Y/N) loved it when I paid attention to this spot. I felt the pulse at her throat against my lips. She whined when I sucked at the area and continued to thrust into her, quicker now.

I was certain nothing gave me greater pleasure in all the Multiverse than knowing and hearing how much pleasure I could give her.

I brought a hand down in front of us to flick my thumb over her bundle of nerves. (Y/N)’s moans were short in length but not in quantity. She swore. She always did in the heat of passion. I loved that part, as well.

“I’m close,” I confessed.

“Me too,” she panted.

While one of (Y/N)’s hands rested behind her on the desk for stability, the other brought my face to hers. Not for a kiss, but close enough so that we shared the same breath. Her walls constricted around me in a perfect tightness that would always bring me to my knees.

“You’re so beautiful,” I professed before I saw the light.

I think she saw the same light behind her eyes.

We shuddered together, and I lost myself inside her. To her. Everything.

The sounds we made in unison were music and I loved that part too.

We came down from our highs and (Y/N) held onto my arms for balance. When she sighed, I smiled again. She returned it.

“I love you,” I said, looking at her and feeling so much.

“And I love you.” I couldn’t distinguish whether her cheeks were pink from blushing or from the exhilarating release of exhibiting our love.

After a lingering moment, (Y/N) picked her clothes up off the floor. Then, she stepped up on her toes to kiss me chastely - a stark contrast to the act we’d just committed at my desk.

“Back to work, hot stuff,” she said with a wink.

That’s my future wife, and I am hopelessly in love with her.

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E8; Chapter Eight, The Mind Flayer - [Pt. 5]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

An unlikely hero steps forward when a deadly development puts the Hawkins Lab on lockdown, trapping Will and several others inside.

A/n: y/n and max bonding time !! ☺ we love and support healthy female friendships in this fic 😚

||3rd Person POV||

The rickety wooden door to the Byers shed is ripped open, and Hopper tugs at the pull chain bathing the shed in a dusty yellow light. To his left stands Mike and Y/n who accompany him, and he shakes his head with a decisive nod.

"Yeah, this'll work."

The young Henderson girl can't help but sigh at the irony of this room being the setting of the interrogation with the monster that took over Will. Given this was the very place he was taken. Y/n had not found out this particular detail until weeks after his full recovery. He had shared this with her on the same day she had shared her powers with him.

How drastically everything had changed since then.

And deep down she knew, things would only continue to change. It was a feeling of absolute certainty deep in her core. She knew it to be true just as sure she was that the sunset in the evening and rose in the morning; Nothing would ever be the same again.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The shed had been empty in a matter of minutes thanks to Hopper. After the details of the plan began to cement, Y/n lingered behind for the majority of this allotted time to help the man clear the room of all its contents, though she was soon called inside to help Mike and the others prepare.

Nancy and Steve now stood alone in the shed, having been tasked with the job of covering the shed's walls. For several minutes they worked in an amplified silence beside the constant ripping of duct tape and sharp thuds from the staple gun.

Nancy was the first to break this silence.

"Hey," Steve stepped down from the stool to reload his staple gun, and he turns to meet the girl's gentle smile. "What you did, um, helping the kids... that was... really cool."

"Yeah," he mutters, breaking away from her tempting gaze and returning to his work on the stool. "Those little shits are real trouble, you know?"

Nancy nods, fighting a smile as she returns to her roll of duck tape. "Believe me, I know."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Outside and just around the corner of the yard, Lucas and Dustin finished emptying the contents of the trash and kneeled down to the grass to examine its contents for any useful materials for the walls.

Not unlike Nancy, Dustin decides to take advantage of the brief calm before the storm to reconcile with the boy beside him.

"Hey," Dustin eases. "I'm... I'm sorry about Dart and all. I guess I just thought that he was my friend."

Lucas does not fail to notice Dustin's dry scoff at himself at his own realization.

"I was wrong. I broke the rule of law, so if you want your girlfriend to take over my spot in the party, I understand."

Lucas laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. "She's not my girlfriend."

"I saw you two holding hands in the bus, Lucas."

"She was just scared."

"Maybe," Dustin nods sadly. "but I could feel it."

"Feel what?"

Dustin looks at his friend sincerely, finally understanding what Steve had told him about.

"The electricity."

With that, Dustin balls up his findings of newspaper for the shed and rises to his feet, heading around the house. Lucas sits in careful contemplation at his words, unable to shake the swarm of thoughts they had brought.

He merely sighs, and returns to work, his head and heart buzzing.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Max and Mike sit in silence in the kitchen. Mike with his head in the cupboard as he fishes for supplies and Max beside him on the floor stitching together strips of cardboard with duct tape. She smiles fondly.

"I get it now," She says.

Without turning around, Mike throws back a grumbled response. "Get what?"

She quirks a brow, still a hint of an understanding smile. "You know, why Y/n's your druid? El too, I get why she was your mage."

The sudden and unexpected mention of El is what breaks Mike's attention away from his task, and he looks over his shoulder at Max pointedly.

"What?"

"Well, the whole 'Y/n saving our asses in the junkyard' show was kind of a tip-off," she begins jokingly, but it stops when she notices the warning in his eyes, and she softens. "Lucas. He told me about her. El, I mean."

"Yeah, well, he shouldn't have." Mike spits back.

Max listens unsurprised at his hostile attitude towards her, though it doesn't change her offense at his venom.

"And just because you know the truth, it doesn't mean you're in our party. You do know that, right?"

A rather light thump comes from down the hall, followed by a small string of hushed cursing. It grabs their attention only briefly before they dismiss it altogether, knowing they weren't the only ones rushing around in preparation.

"Y-yeah, I know," Max visibly deflates, returning her attention to the carboard in her hands, and scoffs sadly. "I mean, why would you want a stupid zoomer in your party anyway?"

Mike stifles a glance in her direction but returns to the cupboard in an attempt to move on.

"I'm just saying, El?" Max continues gently. "She sounds like she was really awesome."

"Yeah, she was," Mike concludes, closing the cupboard doors and collecting what he had gathered. "Until that thing took her. Just like it took Bob."

Mike rises to his feet, managing to cast one more cold glance at the girl as he heads for the back door, leaving her all alone.

Max frowns, feeling yet another prick of defeat and anger from the boy's stubborn ways. Bitterly, she rips another strip of tape from the roll, finishing off another tube of cardboard for the leg of the stool meant for Will.

It was tedious work, going to the extreme of disguising a chair but necessary according to Joyce and the others closest to Will. They couldn't risk a single identifiable object that could possibly clue in Will as to where they were. And that included a simple stool that had belonged to the Byers for years.

Max sighed when she heard the shuffling of footsteps behind her, and without looking she casts a sour look over her shoulder towards who she believed to be Mike.

"Forget something, maybe another insult? Well, you haven't told me how annoying I am in the last ten minutes, so naturally, you must be dying inside,"

"Well, I wouldn't say annoying. Persistent, maybe, but that's hardly an insult," chirped a familiar voice that certainly wasn't Mike.

Relieved, Max saw Y/n approach the kitchen table, her arms overflowing with cardboard and newspaper that threatened to spill. Quickly, she dispenses them on the existing pile on the table.

Max cracked a smile that lasted only seconds and returned to her gaze to her work. "Thought you were Mike," she mumbled.

Y/n's gentle and light-hearted demeanor melted into that of empathy for the girl. She sighs, wondering how she could possibly ease the tension in the room and settles on grabbing her own squares of cardboard. She joins Max on the kitchen floor. The two begin to work in silence for a good few moments when Y/n softly speaks up.

"I don't know if you know this, but, I used to be the outsider of the group,"

Max says nothing, but she looks up from her finishing touches on the stool to look at Y/n, her interest piqued. Y/n is still fixed on her own pieces, and she reaches for a patch of tape, her eyes meeting with Max casually and briefly.

"When Dustin and I moved here in the fourth grade, I had a hard time making friends. I had some, back in y/h/t, but moving was kind of hard on me, and over time I lost touch."

Max was now watching Y/n studiously, more or less a bit surprised at how similar it sounded to her own experiences.

"Dustin had more luck socializing here than I did, and... I got pretty lonely." She grabs another strip of cardboard and tape. "Eventually, he started bringing his new friends over. Like, all the time. It only reminded me of how lonely I was, and, even though I knew he wasn't trying to, it felt like Dustin was rubbing it in."

Max frowned softly, unable to imagine the kid would want to do something like that. And she had only known him a week. Nevertheless, she stayed silent, listening closely.

A weak and almost non-audible chuckle escaped the Henderson girl.

"I was always on the outside looking in," her voice quieted sadly, her brows knitted together in a frown. "They had their own inside jokes, games. Their own secret language, everything. Stuff even I didn't have with my old friends. And for a long time, I was just 'Dustin's sister'."

Unable to bite back her curiosity, Max finally spoke, now completely invested in her story. "So what changed?"

A ghost of a smile flickered across Y/n's face, clearly recalling a warm memory she hadn't thought of in a long time.

"Will," Y/n finally looked away from her work and met Max's gaze. "He fought for me. He helped me stand up to them, specifically my brother. The others were way easier to convince, it was Dustin that put up a fight."

Y/n sighs softly, dispelling the weight settling on her heart. She looks at her new friend determinedly, Mike's harsh words to Max she had inadvertently overheard ringing in her ears.

"I know it's easier said than done, believe me," she begins. "But try not to let Mike get to you."

Max halts at her words, gaze now focused on the tile floor, and she glances at Y/n through her peripheral vision.

"He's in a lot of pain since El left," Y/n mumbled, the ever-present weight of guilt on her shoulders from her secret immediately grows ten times heavier, and she can feel it sitting on her lungs. "She meant a lot to him, to all of us really. But Mike took it the hardest... My point is,"

She took a deep breath and looked back at Max until she returned her gaze.

"We all want you in the party. We all really like you. And even though Mike is still working through his feelings, doesn't mean he won't come around. Besides, he doesn't solely determine who's in and who's out, no more than Dustin, or any of us, really."

A mischievous grin curled at her lips as she recalled what the boys had told Max on Halloween. She spoke with a hint of a mocking tone, trying her best to imitate Dustin that day.

"After all, our party's a democracy, and the majority voted that you could stay,"

The girls shared the briefest of seconds with their gaze locked on one another as their smiles grew. The silence was broken almost immediately as the two burst into fits of laughter, and each girl felt a great deal lighter than their current situation had previously allowed them.

Gradually the laughter died down, but their smiles remained, allowing the warmth of each other's company to keep them distracted for as long as they could.

"Thanks, Y/n," Max said, earnestly, almost feeling silly for letting her guard down, but she couldn't help it. Instead, she embraced it. "I appreciate it."

"Anytime, Max. And hey," Max looked back up curiously, her brow arched. "For what it's worth, I do mean it. We all want you in. And after all that's gone down in the past hour alone, well..."

Max felt the warmth in her chest grow at what the girl said next, and between her moment with Lucas on the bus and now, she couldn't recall a single moment since she had moved to Hawkins she had felt at home. Had felt accepted.

"Mike's wrong. You're one of us, now,"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Jonathan rips another blanket off the clothesline and looks to his mother.

"You sure this is gonna work?"

"He knew who I was," Joyce croaked, heart heavy. "He's still in there."

There's a solid passion in her voice, and Jonathan can tell she's forcing her words over a swollen lump in her throat, but he can't blame her. He's had one himself all night. And it only grows when he hears what his mother has to say next. And by the sound of it, the last bit seems to be her assuring herself.

"It's going to work," she proclaims. "It has to."

He nods solemnly, deciding he has no other choice but to believe in their plan. With a sigh, he reaches up over his head, scissors in hand, and begins to gather every last scrap of string he can harvest.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

With all the supplies now collected, everyone gathers in the Byers shed; disguising the floor and walls in sheets of tarp, cardboard, newspaper, and tinfoil, a budding sense of hope blooming in everyone's hearts. Not a single square inch is uncovered, even the sheds two posts are completely cloaked as are the chairs Max and Y/n had disguised. They sit in the center of the shed, one pushed up against each post, and a set of outdoor lights have been moved inside and hung to face where Will is to sit.

The small wooden shed had now been completely transformed and would have been practically unrecognizable to anyone who hadn't contributed. Exactly as everyone had hoped.

Jonathan was the one to retrieve Will, and as he carried his limp brother in his arms, a very similar thought to Y/n's had crossed his mind. How peaceful Will looked as he slept. It was the same little boy who used to crawl into bed with him when he'd have a nightmare. The same little boy who'd fall asleep against his shoulder as the two of them hid away from the screaming matches that took place when Lonnie was still around.

It was his little brother that he loved so much.

And the fact that that would all change as soon as he woke up, it would be another inescapable dagger to the heart. But it was something he was willing to face if it meant they were one step closer to getting Will back.

Will collapses limply into the chair he is placed in, and Jonathan has to keep one hand on his shoulder to steady him as they bound him to the chair. The clothesline he had cut down was now coiled tightly - but not too tight of course, though Jonathan can not help but worry if it was a wise choice of binding - around Will's ragdoll form and the post he sits against. The back pair of the chair's legs are woven much tighter against the post, ensuring Will is unable to scoot away should he break free.

For an extra measure, the wire stretched even farther than the boy's torso and wound around his wrists and ankles as well. Lucas hooks up the extension cord and connects it with the lamp, and it comes to life. The shed is now fully immersed in a sickening and even blinding, white light that is mounted across the room facing Will. The new source of light adds an even more chilling touch as it now enunciates the sickly color of Will's skin.

The boy is as white as a sheet, his dark brown bangs that dangle over his eyes create a stark contrast against his skin. It is not in the least bit assuring to the state of his condition, but they know it is a necessary measure. It's harsh intensity made it near impossible to see who or what was beyond it.

In this case, it was five figures packed in behind the lamp, each of them gazing at the boy with racing minds and beating hearts: Hopper, Joyce, Jonathan, Mike, and Y/n.

She protested at first. Not because of nerves though she couldn't deny she had them, but worried he would refuse to talk if she were present. It had taken quite a great deal of convincing on Mike's part, but he wouldn't back down.

"He needs to see you, Y/n."

"Mike, our goal is to get him to talk to us. He wouldn't even look at me last time I was here and that was before the Mind Flayer completely took over."

"He's still in there, Y/n. I know it. And I think you know it too."

She sighed and looked away breifly shaking her head.

"I don't know about this, Mike." His pleading look does little to shake her certainty. "I'm telling you, he won't open up if I'm here. The Mind Flayer despises me, I know it."

"But we're not trying to talk to the Mind Flayer, we're trying to talk to Will. And I'm telling you, that Will is nuts about you. He tells you everything. He trusts you. Will trusts you. That's what we need right now."

Her gaze wanders beyond Mike and towards her unconscious friend worriedly. She nibbles on the inside of her cheek as a side effect of her growing worry though she has to remind herself to stop. A sharp exhale breaks through her and she looks back at Mike, uncertainty laced in her voice.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

Not a minute later Joyce and Hopper had returned from the house where they had finished preparations with the others. The rest of the party, Nancy, and Steve stayed behind, all of them spread out amongst the kitchen where Hopper left a walkie. The other one grasped tightly in his hand should something go wrong and Joyce had fetched the bottle of ammonia Mike had dug out in during his chat with Max.

Now here they stand with nothing left to do but wake Will. Hopper cuts through the newest silence first as he glances at everyone, his gaze landing on Joyce.

"Alright, you ready?"

Without taking her eyes off her son, Joyce nods firmly.

"Yeah,"

Hopper steps forward, shaking the contents of the ammonia bottle around as he holds it at his side. Even though he towers over the small boy, he can't help but grow anxious and fearful of Will knowing what he is about to awake. Regardless he steps foward, kneeling beside his small sleeping form and unscrews the cap.

Everyone watches intently from across the room, and Y/n timidly shrinks back further beyond the post in hopes of not giving herself away too soon.

His eyes barely leaving Will, Hopper tips the bottle and douses a small handkerchief and he brings it to Will's nose in great apprehension.

At first nothing happens, but that changes in a matter of seconds as his head whips up unnaturally fast. He lets out a chilling gasp and his eyes rip open to reveal his once kind hazel green irises were now a cold, and dark brown that were now filled with hostility.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Dustin stands rooted at the kitchen window, his uneasy stare fixed on the closed shed in the yard. His mind is filled with a variety of scenerios as to what his sister and the others could possibly be experiencing. It's almost too much to handle and in this fleeting moment Dustin finds himself experiencing what he realizes to be not even a sliver of what Y/n normally goes through.

He takes a deep breath, attempting to put his mind at ease and leaves the window. He sheds his hat, anxiously running his fingers through his curls as he begins to pace. Nancy watches him pass as she leans against a nearby wall, her attention returning once again to the walkie on the table, ready to answer it should the occasion arrise.

Steve stands in the living room alone, an iron grip on his bat as he gets a few practice swings in. Like Nancy, his growing anxiety has manifested itself into its own unique form, and much like Dustin he finds himself unable to sit still. The same could not be said for Max and Lucas, who now sat up against the hallway walls across from one another.

Max looks up at Lucas, her fingers still mindlessly fiddling with a fray on her jacket sleeve.

"If he finds out where we are..." she begins. "will he send those, dogs, after us?"

"He won't find out." Lucas insists.

Max nibbles at the inside of her cheek before speaking in a timid voice.

"Yeah, but, if he does?"

Lucas meets her eyes with a furrowed brow, and for a moment she senses all hope inside him had flickered out when he spoke. And his very words struck a bolt of fear into her heart, chilling her blood raising every hair at the inevitable danger she had found herself in.

"Judgement day,"

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · What you can do to help the Black Lives Matter movement. Don't ever give up!! Links in the comments below as usual

All white and non-black followers/readers of mine, I implore you to take a designated amount of time out of each day devoted to educating yourselves on this matter and how to be a better ally. Here are some books that can help with that:

So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo

"For white and non-Black people who feel they don't know how to start having these conversations, Oluo has generously provided a resource about how to be honest and thoughtful in examining not just racism in the world, but also white people's own role in it."

How To Be Antiracist by Ibram X Kendi

"Rather than figuring out how to fix things within our pre-existing systems, Kendi uses the power of memoir to reimagine a society that is not free from racism, but also actively working against racism at all times."

[Link]

And finally, below is a completely free Google doc full of free pdfs written by black activists:

[Link]

+++

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