#any guesses as to what Claire has planned?

[sunshiline-writes]

Rainbringer #2: Say That Again

Kyler starts regretting his decision about making a deal with a goddess. Claire finds out she likes it when Kyler begs.

CW: begging, aftermath of choking, noncon touching (nonsexual), begging, fear of choking, fear of death, brief mention of a knife at the end

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His head hurt. There was a deep throbbing ache on the front of his skull. It took a moment to realize that someone was touching him. Stroking his hair, playing with it. He groaned and tried to lift his head. Then he opened his eyes. Ah, he was still in the temple. Claire was stroking his hair. Oh, she was stroking his hair and his head was in her damn lap. No, no, he didn’t like that. But he felt so heavy. His eyes felt so heavy, he wondered for a moment if she was playing a trick. The gentle, soft touch. He didn’t expect this from her. 

“I passed out,” he mumbled, looking up at her. His brain was foggy, like everything was in slow motion. Even his tongue felt heavy. 

“Yes you did,” she agreed, smiling gently, “I went too far. I always forget..” 

Kyler didn’t say anything, he just started to push himself to sit up. Claire didn’t stop him. His hair had fallen out of its neat low ponytail and he groaned slightly when he righted himself. He brought a hand to his neck, suddenly remembering the feeling of her hands around it. Squeezing, letting go, squeezing. Suddenly he felt like he couldn’t breathe again. 

“I healed the bruising,” she stated plainly. 

Kyler sighed slightly but it came out more like a wheeze. It was the panic, not the damage. He knew he could breathe normally again but it was the memory of it that was making him feel unwell. Holding his head he groaned again. 

“Wow, thanks for that. Really helped me out there,” Kyler said sarcastically, grabbing onto a bench in the temple, and pushing himself into an awkward standing position. He stood half bent over the bench, eyes shut tightly. This headache wasn’t going away was it? No no, this was a different headache. 

“I thought we learned a lesson ten minutes ago about disrespect,” Claire said, her voice right next to his ear, breath hot. She was always so close. Did she need to be that close? “I figured I would get rid of the bruises as a favor. For when you go home tonight. Anyone waiting for you?” 

Kyler winced as he stood up, turning to face her. Lying would be met with punishment so he answered as vaguely as he could. “Yes.” 

“Who?” 

“Knowing my personal life was not part of this agreement,” Kyler said warily, gauging her reaction. 

“True, but knowing makes you more interesting for me to play with.” 

“Great, I definitely want that for me.” Her eyes turned cruel again, and he raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry,” he mumbled. 

There was a pause in the room. Like even the air itself stopped moving. 

“Say that again,” Claire said, a bit giddily. A child. Why did she act like a child when she was the most cruel? 

“What?” he asked, licking his lips slightly. 

“You heard me Kyler,” again her eyes were lit up in childlike wonder at the way she was forcing him to apologize again. 

“I don’t-” 

She shoved him on the bench and he grabbed the front of it to stop himself from falling. He really should have just apologized in the first place. His sarcasm was getting him into trouble here. As per usual, but this was different. This was a goddess. As long as she didn’t put her hands around his throat again. Anything but that. 

“Don’t be stubborn, just apologize. Or I can keep you here for longer. I can make you pass out again. Worry whoever is waiting for you at home.” 

Kyler bit his lip and balled his fists. Step one to getting through this deal alive and not worrying Irvington: get over his pride. 

“No.. I’m sorry..” he finally said, swallowing hard. Picturing her hands around his throat again. “I’m sorry.. Please.. Please just let me go home.” 

Claire sighed contently, gently running her hand through his hair, moving it behind his ear. Always touching, always. What was with the touching? It took everything in him not to slap her hands away. 

“I love how sweet you sound when you’re begging. I’m going to ask for that more often,” she mused, running her fingers over his ear, tugging playfully on his earlobe. He stood up and she took a few steps back. 

“Can I leave now?” 

“Yes Kyler,” Claire said with a pout, “But we are going to have so much fun tomorrow.” 

So much fun, he thought to himself, as he started to walk past her. 

“Bring a knife tomorrow, I want to try something.” 

His heart stopped. 

Started again. 

He left the temple without another word. 

Kyler was starting to regret his deal with the goddess. Was the pain worth the rain? The answer was still yet to be answered.  tag list: @robinbugbanned @devourerofcheesecake @whumpinthepot @for-the-love-of-angst

[mortal-song]

the problem with tua's ending is that it was IMPOSSIBLE to do without retconning and defacing the themes and characterizations that have been central to the story since the very first episode. if you had to end it that way, if it really was "the plan all along," then fine. there ARE good ways to do that -- so the execution should have been much different here if that was the case. take a look at "the good place," for example. everyone ceased to exist at the end of that story as well, but it was beautifully done because it ADDED to the show's core themes rather than take away from them. tua's ending was hollow and unavailing. at some point i have to commend the precision with which someone can desecrate an entire series and certain characters (looking at five, diego and lila especially) like this.

it made no sense. diego and lila formed a beautiful (albeit chaotic) relationship built upon mutual trust and authentic love that neither of them had ever experienced before. it was something they were teaching each other and learning together. that was a new beginning to them, and it was painted as such by the narrative. at no point were there hints that things would go sideways, no build up. every time they stumbled in the past it was still right back into each other's arms. at no point did their chaos look like an ending until it was shoved in our faces for... shock value? to shake things up? i fail to understand where it came from. they were relentlessly devoted to each other and the only two people who could stand each other for long. and so what became of them was very jarring. very messy.

five's ENTIRE character has been focused on and motivated by one thing: saving the people he loves. to the point that he was willing to let his own humanity become a forgone ideal, a renounced concept, as many times as it took. to the point that he essentially INVENTED TIME TRAVEL and INVENTED THE COMMISSION TO REGULATE IT. five's stoic exterior only barely concealed the claw-grip he had on every single family member, so why forget it now? why choose to go back on that? and in what world would five hargreeves willingly wait MONTHS to return to his family? because he was SUDDENLY in love with lila, no less? forgetting the very apparent fact that his age and body are not in alignment, five had never shown any interest in romance. especially not towards lila. but they do have very similar backgrounds, and so this was a chance to enrich the mutual understanding five and lila have with each other, expand the familial connections they have, especially seeing as how both of them -- in their own ways -- spent most of their life without that sort of connection.

ben's entire arc felt so, so out of place. completely and very ironically isolated from the entire rest of the series. nothing about it was fulfilling, nothing about it offered any sense of closure or even development. jennifer made no sense even as a plot device, much less as her own character. these two brought out nothing in each other.

klaus had the foundations of a good arc, but too much was introduced in too small an amount of time and none of it really went anywhere. i can say roughly the same for allison and viktor. THAT being said, of most of the scenes i did find myself genuinely enjoying this season, THOSE three were usually at the center! in fact, i really did love the scenes with klaus, allison, and claire. so that's cool. i guess. luther? he was just kind of... there?

and ray just fucked off with no explanation? okay. and reginald? until this point he had all the qualities of a potentially VERY GOOD and nuanced villain. his arc fell flat. and let's not forget all the other loose ends, but, you know, we've been here long enough. so. onto the next point.

none of these characters got to heal. none of them ever got to revel in anything meaningful, or, rather, the things that WERE meaningful across the whole series were rendered worthless because... none of it exists anymore! none of it ever existed! this is like an "it was all a dream" ending but much worse. and these characters are so, so incredible. i can only name a few other stories that have had characters i've connected to this deeply. and despite everything i could never really stop loving them. that makes it hurt more though tbh

anyways. i know i'm about to sound incredibly dramatic but the ending made me sob my lungs out. this show was really important to me. it led me to incredible people, other incredible stories, helped me live, etc. but i honestly found myself wishing i'd just never watched this series at all. the ending was eviscerating and Just Fucking Pointless. i don't think i'm ever going to be able to rewatch it. it's still hard for me to conceptualize that it was even real, that this is all we get. there's a lot more i could say about everything, but again, i've said a lot already and i'm not trying to write a fucking novel. i'll say more of what i want to in sporadic bursts i guess.

[spittyfishy]

If the Pokemon world had their own "Remnants of Despair", who do you think would be in it. (Junko somehow made a portal there or something.)

Buckle up fellas this is gonna be a long one

Ooo okay that’s a super interesting thing to think about! There’s a lot of things to consider when picking remnants in this sort of context (fighting tooth and nail against the instinct to just bonk my favs with the villain au bat but I shall resist!)

I think it’s important take how the Pokémon world works into account, like having Junko just physically torture someone into despair (think Chisa) wouldn’t fly, Pokémon’s ratings as a franchised wouldn’t allow it. So I’ve only picked characters who already had something that Junko could pull on to manipulate them into despair. I also tried to get at least one person from every region! I'm not 100% certain about some of these, so I’d definitely love to hear other people’s thoughts! (And let’s see if anyone can guess which character I had the most thoughts for lol)

Kanto:

Chloe: I think I’ve talked about Chloe’s villain au potential before, but at least during the early part of the Journeys anime she fairly closed off and distant, her dad paid more attention to Goh and Ash then to her, and there were loads of instances where he put his Pokémon work above her needs and family plans.

Jessibelle: Listen, Jessie and James are too whimsical for something like this but Jessibelle was already a physically abusive gold digger lol so I’m sure Junko would have something to work with there.

Johto:

Silver: Not only is his dad a globally wanted criminal, but he also abandoned Silver when he went into hiding (I think that’s the backstory at least), and Silver has a lot of dialogue about treating Pokémon only as tools. If being a strong trainer didn’t get Giovanni’s attention, then maybe being a Remnant would.

Clair: Okay I’m going to be honest, I realized there weren’t enough girls on the list and threw Clair on last minute, but she also is super annoying in the Johto games lol. Like come on I won the battle just give me the badge!!

Hoenn:

Courtney: So in the Pokémon Masters phone game there’s a bit where Courtney is shown to really believe in the Team Magma cause and really hates Team Aqua even after everything had been resolved at the end of ORAS, so I think Junko could get her that way. Have Courtney convinced that it’s her duty to keep Team Magma’s ideals alive even if the rest of the team forgot them.

Sinnoh:

Cyrus: Cyrus failed. All that effort to create his perfect world, catching the lake spirits, scaling Mount Corinette, he got so close— Just to have it all come crashing down at the last moment. His life’s work destroyed by some kid! He already had little to no patience for humanity, so thanks to Junko’s influence fine, he’ll make this world so unbearable to live in that people will beg him to create his perfect world at last.

Saturn: Saturn will follow Cyrus anywhere, both Pokémon Masters and the Chronicles of Arceus movie showed that if the Commanders are put in a situation without Cyrus they will go to any lengths to get him back. Saturn's devotion runs deep, so if Cyrus says despair is the answer then that’s what it’ll be.

Unova:

Roxy: I’ve got nothing to justify this one with other then Junko wanted an Ibuki replacement to preform silly little despair concerts and I needed someone to rep Unova.

Kalos:

Sycamore: I’m not the first person to say Sycamore and Lysander were in love if not in a full blown relationship when everything went down in Kalos. But Lysander died, crushed under the weapon he’d risked everything to restore. The longer Sycamore goes without him the more he notices the flaws in humanity Lysander was talking about. People are selfish and greedy, look at the state of the world! Professors in Paldea nearly caused an ecological nightmare! The president of the Galar region Pokémon league almost plunged the world into eternal darkness! Not to mention what the morons over in Hoenn tried to do. If even people that were supposed to be trustworthy were causing this much chaos then there was no hope for the rest of humanity. If he could just get Lysander back, just see him one more time— tell him he’d been right, Sycamore was sorry for not seeing it sooner, that he missed him, and that if he could go back he’d have never given those kids the Pokémon that he was ultimately defeated by. If he could just get him back— if there was just some way— like if there was a big, giant, ancient machine that was capable of bringing back the dead still sitting in pieces in Geosenge Town…

Alola:

Faba: Is anyone really surprised? Faba is a little weasel of a man and will jump ship to whoever currently holds the most power. He could be a Branch Chief again! Or even better, if he does a good enough job maybe Junko will give him the whole Aether Foundation as a reward! (She won’t, but the possibility would always be held over his head to keep him in line)

Hau: Okay but hear me out— in the Ultra games specifically Hau has a few interactions with Guzma where he taunts him about being in his grandpa’s shadow and never being able to prove himself as a strong trainer. Gladion’s dialogue reinforces this, that Hau is always too busy goofing off and never takes anything seriously. If Hau’s just stuck there, his friends surpacing him, his rivals surpacing him, the mantle of Kahuna an unattainable goal constantly hovering over him, all those expectations and the realization he’s never going to meet any of them— it might become too much to deal with.

Galar:

Rose: He was only trying to help! Why couldn’t anyone see that? Galar needed Eternatus and the dynamax particles it could make, Rose had been saving the world! They were all so ungrateful, locking him in jail for saving them, who do they think they are? He made this region into what it is today! Everyone relies on Macro Cosmos, and he ran the entire Pokémon league on top of that! That Leon would be nothing without him! It was a region of ungrateful brats. But even so, he’ll still keep working to ‘help’ them all again, you’re welcome.

Oleana: *holds up photos of Oleana and of Peko* Corporate needs you to find the difference between these two pictures. They’re the same picture.

Raihan: He had to beat him. If he just trained harder, more sandstorms, bigger dragons, if he wanted it more. Leon couldn’t be invincible, he couldn’t be, and Raihan would prove it. Turn all of Galar to a battle ground if he needed, but he was going to take down that champion once and for all.

Paldea:

Kieran: Again, no one’s surprised. Just take BB league champion Kieran and turn him up to 11, and boom. Remnant Kieran. He’s still on a hunt for a legendary Pokémon, if he can just find one of those then he’ll be strong enough to defeat anyone right!

Bonus, all the Team Star bosses: I’m thinking they’d be like the equivalent of the Warriors of Hope, not really part of the Remnants group but still very much in despair. I mean come on, a group of bullied teens like that, Junko would have a field day.

And there we go! 15 Remnants plus five Warriors of Hope! I thoroughly enjoyed this ask, I know some of the concepts were much more fleshed out then others, I almost went with Misty and Brock for Kanto (his parents abandoned him to raise all his younger siblings while being the city gym leader, and Misty was so stuck in her sister's shadow she ran away from home) but I just couldn’t do that to two of my childhood faves. (Pierce and Gladion also almost made the list).

[spookymystery67]

I Wish I Could Walk In Heels

AN: Hello, everyone! Hope you're all doing well. I'm sorry for taking forever to update. There was moving and chaos and continued chaos that I will not be getting into, but I just wanted to thank everyone for their patience and support. It really means a lot to me that people actually enjoy my writing and my story.

With that being said, I hope this chapter is okay. I was having a hard time with it. For some reason when I'm writing it just feels like the words are so repetitive and boring. Hoping that isn't the case. Also, forgive me for any mistakes there may be. At some point when this story is all done I plan to edit things I may have missed going through the first time around. Enjoy!

Ps, my wifi kind of sucks so i couldn't veiw the gif I picked very well. Hope it's okay for all of you.

Chapter 21:

-Los Illuminados, 2004-

The relief you felt when you finally saw Ada as she hurried through the church gate was immense. The villagers had been circling the area, and were a little too close for your liking. You had, luckily, managed to keep yourself hidden.

“Ada!” You whisper-yelled, gaining her attention without the other villagers noticing. As she locked eyes with you, it was clear to you that you both were equally relieved to see each other.

“Y/n! Are you alright?” She studied your figure in search of any obvious injuries. Finding just slight scratches, she seemed satisfied enough with your current state.

“I'm fine. But I have some bad news.” A particularly loud shout from a villager nearby spooked you and made you walk further away, dragging Ada along by her arm.

“Relax, dear. I took some of the ones surrounding the area down. Only a few stragglers here and there, but they won't be any match for us.” She said calmly. It helped soothe your nerves for a moment, until you remembered the bad news you were trying to share. 

“What happened?” Ada asked. “What's the bad news? I assume it has something to do with Luis, considering he isn't here with us right now.” 

You sighed in defeat. “You're right. It is about Luis. He got jumped by the villagers just after I got here. I wanted to help, but there were just too many for me to even attempt to take down. He told me to wait for you to get here before we go after him. I'm sorry, Ada.”

She gently placed a hand on one of your own and squeezed it reassuringly. “Don't apologize. I don't blame you. I believe you when you say there were too many. I found out from Wesker that the heightened activity is likely due to the president's daughter being in town.” She explained. Your eyes widened.

“The president's daughter? They kidnapped her?” 

Ada nodded in confirmation. “They did. And not only that. We have a friend who happens to be in Los Iluminados as well.”

A friend? Confused, you asked her, “Who?”

“You don't want to guess?” She sarcastically responded. The playful attitude and the smirk upon her face would be endearing and entertaining, if you weren't so crunched for time.

“I doubt we have time for that.”

“Not like we have many friends, dear.”

You shrugged with a nod. “Good point. Has to be…” you rack your brain, going through all your danger prone friends. Could be Jill. But you highly doubted that. Last you heard from her, she was on a mission with Chris Redfield. That was only a couple of weeks ago. Claire? You didn't think so either. It's been awhile since you've kept tabs on her, but you couldn't think of any reason on why she would be here.

“Leon?” You guessed.

“Ding ding ding, we have a winner. First guess too. I'm impressed.” 

You hadn't seen Leon Kennedy since after Raccoon City, when you both had gone your own ways after he decided to risk asking the military for help. Since then, you and Ada had heard things about him here and there. How he now worked for the government as a sort of super soldier. Given his prior experience with his police training and the infected in the city, they decided he would be a valuable asset. Someone they just couldn't part with. 

This was all supposed to be top secret, but your girlfriend is Ada Wong. She could get whatever information she wanted.

“He must be here for the President's daughter.” 

“My thoughts exactly. I'm actually glad he is here. His presence provided a nice distraction to keep the townsfolk occupied while I made my way to the church.” She explained. Those gunshots must have been his then. Never the subtle one.

Speaking of gunshots. You and Ada both startled when you heard them once again, only this time the sound was closer.

Ada grabbed a hold of your waist with one arm and used the other to aim with her grappling hook. She hooked it to the church steeple and then you were both zipped up, landing on your feet with practiced precision.

She put away the grappling hook as the gunshots continued. “Sounds like he could use a little help.” Ada said, quickly jumping down to grab the rope to the church bell. You followed shortly after her and covered your ears in preparation of the noise.

Ada pulled the rope once and let it ring. Both of you watched as the townspeople made their way to the inside of the church. They acted as if they were in a trance. Or moths to a flame. From where you stood, Leon was just as confused by their behavior as you and Ada were.

“That's weird. How did you know that would happen?” You wondered.

Your girlfriend shrugged, “I didn't. I just figured the sudden noise would confuse them, giving him enough of a distraction to get out of there. Worked better than I thought it would.” She finished with a smirk. More of a confused, yet proud, smirk rather than amused. 

With all the villagers inside, you and Ada both went to return to the mission at hand. Just before you were fully out of earshot, you heard a comment that amused you greatly.

“Where did everyone go? Bingo?” Leon snarked.

You were so unprepared for it.

“HA!” The sudden cackle that lame comment got out of you was far too loud for your comfort. And Ada's, judging by her reaction. She covered your mouth with her hand to muffle the sound, giving you a stern glare. But her lips, too, twitched with amusement.

You watched as Leon looked around for the source of the noise, but quickly moved on after having no luck.

“Don't worry, Leon. First time's free.” Ada muttered. She removed her hand from your face after she deemed it safe enough to do so. “You could have blown our cover with your unworldly cackle, my love.” 

You huffed another quiet laugh. “Sorry. I just wasn't expecting it. I usually expect comments like that from you.” 

Your response to her gentle, and clearly not too serious, chastising made her smile as she grabbed a hold of your waist once more and zipped you both back down to the ground. She continued the conversation once you've both landed.

“As if you don't tend to also make inappropriately timed jokes during stressful situations. I admit, I am a little jealous that he got such a reaction out of you. Should I be worried?”

Her hand gently brushed some of your hair away from your face, before dropping it back down to her side. You blushed, shaking your head and snorting at her joke. 

She grinned again. “Clearly I shouldn't be. I doubt he could get such an adorable blush and a snort from you.”

Your blush deepened and you sighed. “Stop it.” 

“Why? I practically live for your reactions. Don't know how I ever survived all those years without your little huffs and sighs.” Her grin turned mischievous, knowing damn well what her flirty tone and words implied. 

And knowing that your blush will not go away because of it.

Evil. Ada Wong is beyond evil.

A sudden ring from the radio in Ada's possession interrupted your, admittedly, completely off track conversation. Ada frowned and answered the call.

“We just lost Luis's signal somewhere in the vicinity of the forest. Expect the worst.” 

You hear Wesker drawl, frowning at the implication. You hope Luis isn't dead. Your guilt at getting distracted just a few moments ago worsened at the thought. Now wasn't the time to play around.

“That's near Méndez, isn't it? He has a house there. Could be worth taking a look.” Ada suggested. You nodded in agreement when her eyes met yours in a silent question.

“Do it. I'll see what I can find from my end.” With that, Wesker hung up the call. Ada put the radio away with a sigh.

“Should have known this entire mission would be trouble. We should get going.”

“Agreed.” 

With that, you two went on with your mission, away from the church.

—

Clemente's Appeal

Master,

If you pay it some thought, it is unusual that Isidro let me go.

Ever since that beast in the black robe struck me with something, I have been feeling strange. I have started seeing things, having visions. The sky itself looks like that of another world. 

And then, that thing comes. Only now there are many. Hundreds.

Master, I beg you! Please! Is there a way to escape this horror?

“Find anything interesting?” The sudden voice broke your concentration. You jumped, startled, looking up from the letter in your hands to Ada. She was taking anything of interest or value from the room you were in. 

The room itself was creeping you out. The light fog on the floor, along with the candles and human skulls set almost casually in crates and tables, made you feel on edge. Or maybe it was just this village in general making you feel so on edge.

“A note about a beast in a black robe. I was thinking it might be the one that attacked us back at the castle.”

You paused, remembering the moment Ada covered you from the exploding substance that had, in turn, hit her. Just a couple drops, but enough to worry you after what the letter said. “You aren't seeing things, are you?”

“Seeing things?”

“You know, seeing things that aren't there. The note mentioned seeing multiple of the same beast in the black robe. And a weird sky. Did you see anything like that?” You asked, handing the note over for her to read.

She paused, avoiding eye contact with you as she took her sweet time reading the note you'd found. She can read much faster than that. Already you knew something was up.

Looking back at you, though still avoiding eye contact, she shook her head and smiled. That smile would fool anyone else into thinking everything was fine, but it didn't fool you.

“No. Haven't seen anything like that.” Her tone was off. Only slightly higher than usual. 

She's hiding something.

“You're lying, Ada.” She sighed in defeat, knowing there would be no convincing you otherwise. “Tell me, what happened?”

“Truthfully… I don't know. After you left is when the visions happened. My surroundings became distorted and that black robed thing multiplied in the middle of the fight before it disappeared.”

“So you didn't kill it?” 

“No. It left before I could.” Ada clarified.

“And have you seen anything weird since the fight?”

“Define weird? We're only completely surrounded by it.” She joked weakly, attempting in vain to lighten mood.

You frowned in disbelief. “Stop it. You know I don't joke when it comes to your wellbeing. Have you seen any visions of the creature since the fight?”

“No, I haven't.” She shook her head. “You know, it could have just been a one off thing.”

“Possibly.” You tiredly responded. You softened when Ada placed her hand on your shoulder, attempting to bring some sort of comfort. “Just tell me if you have any more visions.” 

“Yes ma'am.” You shoved her arm in response to her sarcastic salute. She smirked and put the letter away with her other belongings.

—

Ada eventually led you both out to the empty town center, where there appeared to be the charred remains of a man that was quite recently burnt at the stake. The sight gave you pause. 

“So, they're just burning people alive now? Is this a sacrificial offering to the Plaga or something?” You wondered out loud, not expecting an answer. Though, you still turned to face Ada when you didn't hear any comment from her. 

She was looking around frantically, a slight look of fear on her, normally stoic, face.

“Ada? Are you al-” Your question was interrupted by her gripping her head in pain, stumbling in place. You immediately bolted to her and held her steady by the arms. 

All too suddenly, she pushed you away and did a roundhouse kick to the air, as if something was behind her. She backed away in confusion when she realized nothing was there. “How…?”

“Ada. You're seeing it, aren't you? It's here.” You looked for it, turning around and making eye contact with the giant insectoid in the black robe behind you. 

“Help me out, dear, and point me to the real one.” Ada gasped, taking her gun out, ready to destroy the creature that was messing with her head.

So, with a shotgun in hand, that is exactly what you did. You did your best to help Ada differentiate between the visions and the real deal while simultaneously avoiding the attacks it sent your way. Especially avoiding any mysterious goo it attempted to shoot your way. You both didn't need to be seeing multiple.

Finally, your teamwork weakened the beast enough for one of you to take the shot. The subtle fury on Ada's features made you allow her to do the honors. Pistol in hand, she took the shot…

And missed. How did she miss it? Ada Wong doesn't miss. Your concern grew when she dropped the gun and stumbled once more, clutching her head in pain. 

Angry, you aimed the shotgun at the creature. You didn't even get the chance to pull the trigger before it slapped you with its enlarged claw, knocking you away from it. Your head ached as you crashed it with a painful slam to the ground, right next to the charred human remains. 

You groaned, blinking rapidly to clear your vision and watching as the black robed creature made its escape. Forcing yourself to your feet, you quickly ran over to check on Ada.

She picked up her dropped pistol with confusion clouding her features. And, though she would never admit it, you could tell she was scared. 

“What is wrong with me?” She muttered. She glanced up once she noticed your presence, backing a few paces away from you when you attempted to comfort her. “Stop. Keep some distance.”

That reaction from Ada surprised you. “Ada-”

“I don't want to hurt you.” She firmly stated. “Clearly I'm not in full control of myself. That thing stopped me from killing it somehow.”

You hummed, understanding her worries, but not wanting her to distance herself from you either. “I guess it does more than just show you things. But it's gone for now, Ada. You don't have to worry about hurting me.” 

Slowly, as to not make her back away, you walked forward and grabbed her hand that wasn't holding the pistol. Nothing bad happened. You held her hand in a tighter hold. “See? Nothing. You don't have to worry so much. We'll figure this out together, okay?”

She nodded. “We will. But first, we find Luis.”

[maochira]

hey! for ur event, can i request hanging out w the bastard munchen and them finding out that the reader has a crush on kaiser (and he returns the feelings hopefully) (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)

BASTARD MÜNCHEN MY BELOVED!!!

Spending time with the Bastard München Team + falling in love with Kaiser

Requests open! - Event list - Event introduction

Tags: gn!reader, first silly headcanons about spending time then the falling in love with Kaiser part

Event sypnosis: you, Claire (@deerangle3 ) and Mao (me) are assistants in the Neo Egoist League

-usually, mixing the players from Germany and those from Blue Lock doesn't go well. But you, Claire and Mao bring some sort of balance into the group, and it usually goes fairly fine. Usually. Most of the time you don't spend time as the entire team anyways (that'd be a lot of people), usually you spend time together in smaller groups, depending on who asked you to hang out

-if Igaguri is there, he gets bulled ALL THE TIME. He deserves it <3 (you still make sure to keep it lighthearted, you'd get into trouble if you genuinely start bullying the players)

-spending time alone with Isagi means he rants about Kaiser to you a lot, you never know what to say so you just listen

-DOING SHARK NOISES WITH KURONA!!!

-doing that actually starts a game where you and Kurona do random animal noises. Some of the others join as well. Gagamaru can do a hella good bear impression and it actually terrified you for a moment

-Raichi can make feral dog noises idk he gives off that vibe

-Isagi sucks at making any animal noises so you get a good laugh when he tries

-Claire becomes best friends with Yukimiya super quickly and she talks about animal facts a lot with Kurona, you join them to listen sometimes!

-for some reason, Mao became super close with Raichi and now he's her bodyguard. Also, she keeps bugging Gagamaru to let her sit on his shoulders (he's tall, she's small, let her see the world from up there)

-whenever Kaiser and Ness join any group hangouts, the balance gets off a bit. If it's only you out of the assistants, it's definitely going downhill. But if Claire and Mao are with you, it barely changes anything

-besides that, Ness is super nice to talk to! He's probably a good listener so you can infodump about things you like or just talk to him about whatever is on your mind

-surprisingly, Kaiser can be nice to talk to as well. He's nice to you because you're one of the assistants and he knows he has to show you some human decency

-but the more he talks to you, the more he notices you're worth being nice to not because you're an assistant, but because you're genuinely a lovely person

-whoops, guess who fell for you!

-Kaiser doesn't like to admit how quickly you won his heart. But he still confesses rather shortly after realizing the way you make him feel. He confesses so soon because he's sure you won't reject him

-and of course, you don't, because you actually developed these feelings for him first! But you were always too shy to confess. So you were more than overjoyed when he confessed to you

-you actually planned to keep the relationship secret, but Kaiser immediately goes around and tells everyone that you're his. He makes it extremely clear, especially in front of Isagi

-Kaiser also likes to brag about the fact that he's your boyfriend to a point where as soon as he opens his mouth everyone around him just goes "We know you love (Y/N)"

-Kaiser always gets a bit sad and maybe jealous when he finds out you're not assisting at Bastard München that day. But you always make sure to spend some time with him in the evening!!

-you know uhh the BLTV thing??? Someone made a "Kaiser and assistant (Y/N) holding hands" compilation

[thevioletcaptain]

Hi! I don’t mean in any way to pressure you but I was wondering if you’re planning on continuing your fic “fortress”? I’d love to see it continue🥰 again no pressure I just really like your works!

Hi anon! Thanks for the message :)

Despite the hellishly long gap between updates, Fortress is not abandoned, and I do intend to finish it. It's actually pretty high up on my to-do list right now, and will be the next major thing I post once As A Friend is done.

Here's the order in which I plan to post DeanCas fics/updates over the next few months -- with some vague spoiler-adjacent-but-not-really-spoilery details for anyone who wants them:

Chapters 5 & 6 - As A Friend Roughly 35k words in total, split over these final two chapters. This will see Dean & Cas return to the bunker, announce their "fake" relationship to Sam & Jack, and then [redacted because I'm not giving the whole thing away even though you already know it's gonna be a happy ending].

Chapters 8, 9, & 10 - Fortress Roughly 22k words split between these three chapters. Chapter 9 (the during chapter in which Dean is suffering) & chapter 10 (the after chapter which follows the first days of Dean living with Cas after coming home) have been ready for a while, but chapter 8 (the before chapter, which features Robin's party when they were 16 👀 a party which you might recall was mentioned by Cas during the previous before chapter) has been holding them hostage. So as soon as 8 is ready I intend to post all three at once.

Oneshot - Hearts Beating Life (Into Each Other) Roughly 25k words of canonverse fuck-or-die fic. In which Cas gets cursed on a hunt, and you'll never guess what Dean has to do to save him..... lol. It'll probably get split into two or three chapters for readability, but I plan to post it all at once. This is only one final scene away from being complete at this point, but I want to finish As A Friend & update Fortress before I share it.

Chapter 8 - Isosceles Roughly 17k words, because this fic refuses to let me be succinct. Dean & Cas discuss more almosts, the angels make contact, we find out exactly what Sam said to Dean in chapter 4, Claire [redacted] when [redacted], Mary and Dean bond over [redacted], and the search for Kelly Kline picks up steam.

Chapters 3 & 4 - Empty Heroics Roughly 20k words split between these final two chapters. In which there is bed sharing, a plan is formulated, and Nobody Dies. I realize that barely anyone even read the first two chapters of this fic, but I still really like it and want to finish it off, so it's the fifth thing on my to-do list.

Oneshot - As-Yet-Untitled Shrinking Curse Fic Roughly 10k words of canonverse established relationship PWP. In which they've been together for literally three days when Dean gets hit with a shrinking curse that won't wear off for a year, and comes up with a creative solution to ensure that they can still enjoy the physical aspects of their new relationship despite being small enough to perch on Cas' shoulder.

Chapter 1 - One More Chain Does The Maker Make Roughly 10k words, and the first of five chapters. The whole fic should come in around 50-60k words, and it's canon-divergent from 15.06. Featuring a lot of pining, and Dean working on Jesse and Cesar's ranch. I posted about it here if you want to know more!

The final 5 chapters of Fortress & final 3 chapters of Isosceles will come next -- likely to be about another 30k and 45k respectively, based on current word counts and what remains to be written.

At some point in between all of this I also plan to post some updates to The Coda Project (I've written at least half of each coda up to 1.12 Faith at this point, I just need to buckle down and finish them off in order so I can start posting them again), along with a handful of short tumblr prompt meme ficlets I've written recently -- specifically, those based on the following six trios of emojis: [🧪🧛🏻‍♀️💦], [🔮🛁🫂], [🤠🎶🌬️], [🪼👀🎨], [🥬🍅✨], and [🥶😶‍🌫️🤯], all of which ended up being significantly longer than they should have been, hence the delay in posting them.

...aaaand I realize that this is far more information than you asked for so I apologize. But thanks again for your message, and for reading. I hope you enjoy all the updates when they're posted 💚

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Not there yet

No, I don't think that anything that Carmy -or Syd- does/do has a romantic connotation for them at this point. They are not there yet. All the things and hints we see, like the look on his face when she came back in Braciole and his "original" way of saying he was sorry by offering a partnership, how he tried to make plans with her outside work when they still didn't have the permits and had to leave early, how he always tries to stir the conversation to a more personal tone, how he always tries to make sure she's OK even when he's not (except when Claire interfered for a brief period of time), how he cares about her opinion most of all, even though his own sister is right there and is his business partner too, all he said under the table and how he said it, he talking about "their" chaos menu and putting so much work into those drawings when he should have been with Claire, IDK, making out or catching up, etc. Finding comfort in thinking about her during a nasty panic attack, forgetting to solve the walk-in handle issue but not forgetting to order a custom-made designer jacket for her, never giving her her notebook back and holding on to it as if it was something precious he will forever cherish, all of that, happens at a subconscious, even unconscious level. We, the viewers get to see the big picture and interpret the deeper meaning of it all, and not even all the viewers do that, as some would just prefer -or are only be capable of- seeing the superficial aspects of these symbolisms, not going any further or deeper than that. But Carmen certainly doesn't see all of that or even understand it at this point in time. He's not there yet. Whilst I do think that after the panic attack, he is starting to see the tip of the iceberg, he's definitely not ready yet to really grasp the entirety of what's going on, of where exactly he's standing -on the verge of what exactly he's standing- because he is still too focused on his own trauma and his mourning, etc. Syd doesn't help either, TBH. And neither did Claire with her insistence, to which Carmy eventually caved. So, no, we are not there yet. I won't even get started on Syd, because her case is even way more complex than Carmy's. There's no trauma or mourning or environmental causes in her case. It's all her, her very nature. Her arc is a lot more "sophisticated" and therefore will take a lot longer to progress I think, except that a deep crisis breaks her down completely, and I hope it doesn't come to that. I guess Carmy will need to step up eventually, but like I said, he's not there yet and neither is Syd. So basically I need S3 more than I need oxygen right now to figure these characters out, but so far they haven't figured themselves or each other out either yet. That's my point.

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋

[kurt-hummel-eat-your-heart-out]

John Bendy boy(Bender) with a trans masc reader who comes out to him as trans and he’s like “I knew.” Turns out he had a feeling all along and you tell him your preferred name(let it be known that he will mess up ANYONE who deadnames you.)

Omg I love this idea! @screamfome Tysm for the request I appreciate it from the very bottom of my heart🫶🫶🫶 sorry if this is a little late, I got sick over the weekend😭

John Bender (The Breakfast Club) x transmasc reader

Disclaimers/warnings?: reader has fears of era-typical transphobia, I put like the tiniest sprinkle of angst in here w that. This is written from 2nd person btw. Also relationship between John and reader is platonic in this.

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The creeping chill of winter had made its way into the November air. This thanksgiving break was a much needed one. School had already been dragging you down the moment the year started, so you were always happy when you could catch a break. You were practically in distress at the fact that you were going back to school tomorrow already.

Not only were you dreading this approaching Monday, you were dreading a meet up that you had planned. You’d been the one asking John to meet up, saying that you had something you wanted to talk about. You were the one who initiated it, so why were you tempted to chicken out now?

You couldn’t help but pace around the sidewalk outside the diner you’d told him to go to. If he was really your friend he wouldn’t mind, right? I mean, who would he tell? It’s not like anyone else could see past his intimidation tactics like you had, so it’s not like he would leave you for this. Right?

John was just about the closest friend you’d ever had in your life. The way he understood you was almost indescribable. You and him were one in the same sometimes, it was like you two shared brain cells. The same thought process, similar views on your classmates, the works. You didn’t know how you two did it, you just… worked.

You knew you were pretty much his only friend, so it’s not like he would abandon you. At least, you thought so.

As you paced around, your nerves grew worse. It was no big deal, all you had to do was just… tell him you were a man. Totally casual, not at all off-putting. You mumbled your spiel you’d lost sleep over reciting to yourself.

‘Hey John, guess what. I’m a boy… no. I’m a man- fuck, no. I’m a dude. Does that sound better…?’ This train of thought was going nowhere. You let out a frustrated sigh, stopping your nervous pacing to lean against the wall. You’d heard cold things were supposed to calm you down, but this air was doing nothing to help you.

It felt like what you’d planned was leaving your memory, breaking off in little pieces until you couldn’t remember any of it. You buried your face in your hands, groaning in exasperation. The more you let yourself think about it, the more you’d psych yourself out.

Just then, you felt a light shove to your shoulder. You stumbled away from the wall, spinning around to see none other than the reason for your unease. John stood in front of you with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall.

“Yo, jackass.” He flashed his signature smirk, something you’d grown accustomed to seeing over the years. You could never get past how white he managed to get his teeth, it was the first thing you’d notice about him. That and little jingle his belt chains made when he walked. Usually you could hear him before he even rounded a corner, he used to joke that you were ‘telekinetic, or some magic shit’. His words, not yours.

“Where’s mister spidey-senses today, huh? Is he on vacation, to the cape perhaps?” He talked in that snooty little rich girl voice he often did to mock this sophomore in your biology class.

“Alright, didn’t know we invited Claire to the function.” You rolled your eyes playfully at him. You turned around, motioning for him to follow you inside the diner. His belt chain jingled in time with the bell on the front door, soon being silenced by the shouting of a waitress telling you to ‘Sit wherever ya like!’. You promptly chose a booth all the way towards the back of the aisle, John following suite.

“All the way back here, huh? Not trying to pull something on me, right?” He laughed softly, leaning into the uncomfortable booth cushions.

He took his usual unruly position, slouching with no particular care for his posture or appearance. You took a more reserved position. Your arms were crossed on the table, your gaze was thrown out the window, staring at the fading sun in the distance. This was one of many sunsets you’d seen with John. That was a secret of his you’d kept; he loved to watch sunsets.

“It’s really pretty tonight, isn’t it?” You mumbled, not really expecting an answer out of him. You were sort of just avoiding what you knew you had to tell him.

“Mhm…” He turned from you to the window, replicating the way you crossed your arms. As you turned back to him, you felt a sudden wave of dread. The blank-mindedness hit you again, leaving you scrambling for any thought you could remember.

“So uh, Bender…” You hesitated. You knew you had to tell him, it was the entire point of you two meeting here. You’d figured he would want to sit down for this one.

“Mhm?” His eyes were still on the bleeding red and orange hues in the sky, seemingly absorbed in the sight. If he was distracted, maybe this wouldn’t be such a shock. You only hoped.

“So I um… I didn’t ask you to hang for no reason. Actually I kinda need to spill something pretty important.” You looked down at your hands, picking at your nails. One of them was uneven from the last session of nervous fidgeting you’d had while waiting for him outside.

“‘Sup? Shit, did your dog finally kick the bucket?” His expression was serious now. One of his favorite parts of going over to your house, besides getting out of his own, was getting to see your old German shepherd. You shook your head, laughing a bit at his assumption.

“No, missy is fine. I- um” Inconveniently, you were cut off by the waitress who had greeted you not even two minutes before. You were startled by the loud request for an order from the both of you, to which you quietly asked for just some coke. John said the same, just not as quiet (not to your surprise).

“So…” you started as soon as the waitress sped away to the back kitchen. You did a quick search of the tables in front of you, just to make sure nobody you knew, or anyone for that matter, was near your booth.

“So? C’mon, this ain’t junior high. Tell me your little secret already.” He settled back into his slouched position, keeping his arms crossed. You noticed that his look still remained a little serious, which did absolutely nothing to soothe your nerves.

“Okay, so it’s uh, pretty important. Just, whatever you do, don’t go telling anyone. Okay? I don’t care if you get mad or look at me like I’m a fuckin’ weirdo. Just… this stays between us, okay?” You reciprocated his stare, perhaps a bit more intensely. You needed him to know that this wasn’t a time for jokes. You wouldn’t be able to take it if he insulted you about this, or worse, brought it up to anyone.

“Well shit… you okay man?” He seemed worried. Which was odd for him, considering he tried to keep up as much of a carefree act as he could. He usually tried to act like he couldn’t give two shits about anyone, but when it came to you it was different.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just nervous, is all.” You paused, trying to recollect any memory of the little speech you had prepared in your head. It was still a bust, so you decided to just ad-lib it.

“Okay, fuck it. John I’m- look I know the way I look is, well, I guess butch-y? For lack of a better word. Okay, what if I told you that wasn’t dressin’ the way I do to be different or uh, make a statement or something.” You rambled on, not really knowing how to get to your point anymore. All your thoughts just jumbled into a big mess, and there wasn’t much you could do to sort it out.

“I guess the way I dress and reason I got my hair like this is because, um. I see myself as a man. A guy, a dude, whatever you wanna call it. Yeah, I know I don’t one hundred percent look the part, but that’s me. I’ve realized that that’s who I am.” You ran a hand through your hair, the nerves slightly wearing off as you got everything out.

Then you met John’s gaze and promptly began to panic. He wasn’t saying anything or making any motion, just staring at you. Your expression dropped as the weight of your words set it. His lack of words spurred on thoughts of your worst fears, and the possibility of them becoming a reality. You felt a tear prick the corner of your eye, immediately looking away from the embarrassment of it all. You usually weren’t one to cry, but this could warrant it.

As he saw your panic, his expression immediately changed from stoic to concerned. “Oh shit, no you’re fine. I promise, you’re fine. I mean…” He reached out to grab your arm, reassuring you that his reaction towards you wasn’t negative.

“I kinda knew already, I just didn’t think you’d ever say it.” He gave your forearm a gentle squeeze, trying to get you to look at him.

Upon hearing this, you turned back towards him. Your face held a mix of shock and relief, surprised he wouldn’t thought about you like that in the first place and relieved that he wasn’t looking at you like some freak.

“Wait really? I didn’t think I’d be so easy to read…” You muttered, taking a deep breath in to try to keep yourself from tearing up even more. “Shit, part of me was thinkin’ you’d be kickin’ my ass over this.” You confessed to him, laughing it off now that you knew things were okay.

“Nah, wouldn’t dream of it. Especially not you, you’re kind of my ride or die. You know that.” His words were calming your nerves. Your heart was still beating like crazy, but at least you weren’t walking out of this diner in hysterics.

“I mean hey,” he continued “I’ve got a gay cousin. You remember Tommy, right? Nobody in the family talks to him anymore, but I’ve visited a couple times. He’s doing okay on his own, but I’ve heard what it’s like for him. I would never, ever, do that to you. I couldn’t just up and stop talking to you, you kidding? And not to be dramatic here,” He paused for a moment, looking to be figuring out how to phrase things in his head.

“But you’re like, my guy. You’ve got my back when I know some of these sons-of-bitches only hang around me for the dope. You ain’t like that though, I think you can always see who I really am when nobody else does. It’s just weird, it’s like you know me better than I know myself sometimes.” The look in his eyes was one you didn’t see often. His rough exterior was gone, you could see his genuine self. It was nice when he was like this.

“But anyways, my point is I’m not letting anything change that.” He gave your arm one final pat before letting go, but he still kept that soft gaze on you. It was sort of weird, how sometimes he just knew what to say.

“Thank you, John.” You sighed contentedly, everything in your world was just about right now. “Well, I guess I should go over a few things then. You wouldn’t mind callin’ me something else, would you? I was kind of thinkin’ of a different name to try out.”

“Well shit, yeah.” John smiled at you. He seemed happy, and maybe a little excited about this. He’d always sort of seen you as someone like him in that aspect, so knowing that you were feeling more yourself made him happy. A thought came to him though, so he interrupted you for a moment. “Oh, and just know this. If anyone ever dares to fuck with you, you let me know. I'll knock some fuckin' lights out." He crossed his arms, giving you a smirk.

The waitress soon came back with your cokes, asking if either of you were going to order anything else. You shrugged at John, being both broke and not that hungry. So, much to your waitress's dismay, he said no. She sped off back to the front counter, grumbling about something or the other. You and John laughed it off, throwing around the idea of loitering just to piss her off.

You were glad you'd asked him to meet you here. Taking that chance was worth it.

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Lmk if I made any typos or if you have any constructive criticism:D

[blueysobssesions]

Dangerous Woman

Leon Kennedy , Chris Redfield (Separate)

Were their s/o getting called a Dangerous Woman... They wonder why...

- Really busy rn meaning I can't do Chris for this for a while but I'll try to make it 😭 Wish me luck for my exam 😭

Leon Kennedy

"How lucky are you dating a Dangerous Woman Kennedy?" Leon Halted when he heard that "What? Y/n? A Dangerous Woman? No way" Why would Claire describe you a Dangerous Woman? When you are a loving and caring person in his eyes. "I guess Chris didn't tell you huh?" Leon then got confused "Tell me what?" Leon was waiting for her to explain "She took down 5 zombies without any weapons, AND almost killed one of my brother's crew at training! Even the BSAA operator got scared" Claire laughed at the last part, she still remembered when Chris got impressed by you and Piers slightly flinched when you called his name. "And you think I would believe that?" He crossed his arms to his chest thinking about you being skilled as him makes him go wild...

He would imagine you two sparring, killing zombies together... He does like it if someone talks about how your cool, amazing, hot, and many more. "EARTH TO LEON!" Claire's voice snapped him back to reality "*sigh* If you don't really believe me Chris and Y/n will be on the training area" That made his eyes widen "What? You do know she can be injured!" "Relax Leon, I told Chris to go easy on her" Leon then realized something- this son of a bit- "So you were the one who suggested this!?" Before he can utter another word Claire was already on her way to the training area. 'Women'

-

"Just to be safe, I will go easy on you alright?" Chris told you before getting ready, but since confidence is with you right now "You don't need to Chris. I'll be fine" Chris smirked, surely its okay for Leon? "Don't" You both heard Leon's voice with a slightly harsh tone making you gulp. "Hey Leon" you wonder why you're nervous... Leon glared at you signaling saying 'Stop'. "Hey cmon Leon, why don't you let her?" "Because I don't want to" Leon immediately talked "Its my first time seeing you worried about someone" Chris chuckled "Cmon, Leon. Let her show you what's she's capable of" Chris tried to budge Leon and finally he let it "Finally!" You said happily "But if you got hurt, that's not my problem got it?" Leon glaring at you and you nodded. Leon sat down at a bench near the training area observing you carefully.

"What you just did yesterday... I didn't really expected that" Chris rubbed his left shoulder. "Almost all my men suggested you to join on the missions" You giggled "I would love to"

.

.

.

Chris wasn't doing really well. Leon can't believe that you made Chris in this situation, his lips slightly bloodied, his left eye has a dark purple mark on it, while you have just small bruises on your arms and face.

Chris dodged another hit from you and lunged. Chris got a good hold on you and shoved you against the closest wall which made Leon slightly stand up. He didn't like this... He didn't like how you got pinned in the wall by Chris... "Got you now" Chris growled. You were breathing hard, but goddamn it, you didn't even look like your in pain. Who the seven devils are you? Chris eyes narrowed when he suddenly felt a movement from you "What-" you threw his head back, then slammed your forehead into his nose. His cartilage cracked and blood wet Chris's lips. He backed away from you "Oh, shit- I-im so sorry Chris! I think I may have gone too far!" You apologized over and over again "It's okay Y/n. It's not like im going to die anyway" Chris tried to stop the bleeding but no avail. "I think you should...uhm...go to the clinic..." He nodded and he went to the clinic while holding his nose. You felt bad... "You should've told me you know?" You almost forgot Leon was watching you the whole time. "You impressed me, damn" that made you eyes sparkle, hearing praises from him makes you heart meltt "I was going to, but Claire has other plans" You said, you looked at Leon... His lips slightly trembling "Leon? You alright-" "Wanna go spar with me?" You jumped when he suddenly spoke but agreed to his request "Sure!" You smiled, you were excited to beat his ass >:) "But are you alright? Slamming you forehead to Chris's face can get you some headaches... Well, since Chris is a hard headed" he smirked at the last part of his sentence, he then reached your forehead slightly rubbing it with his thumb "I-it did hurt...you rubbing it makes it quite better but I don't appreciate you being mean to Chris tho" Leon laughed he loves it when your so kind <3 he kissed your forehead making you smile.

"My Dangerous Woman"

This is my first Lsk x reader that took me 3 days to write 😅

[skye-huntress]

I’m in Love with the Villainess Reaction

Episode 12 / Finale

I feel like they could have skipped the OP and just showed the title like so many other shows.

Guess they don’t plan on leaving us in limbo, they skipped straight to Manaria’s confrontation.

Seriously, Manaria, you’re the one who was trying to drive Rae away and now you’re mad at her because you succeeded. Like I get what you were doing, but maybe opening this test of yours up with a magic duel of all things wasn’t your best approach. You beat her so badly and completely you crushed her spirit.

Her methods aside, at least we’re getting to the heart of the issue now. Rae’s love for Claire is not as selfless as she claims, how could it be? She wants Claire to love her back, to be in a relationship with her but she was afraid of being rejected.

In many ways, Manaria and Rae are similar, which is part of why Manaria knows she can’t leave Rae alone, lest she make the same mistake she did.

I hate to say it, but after everything that happened, this had to be the last card Manaria could play. Claire’s safety and wellbeing is still Rae’s priority. The only reason she could even imagine leaving Claire’s side is because she knows Manaria could protect her from any threat, even if that threat is Claire herself. But if Manaria is the one who becomes the threat…

“Again, I wasn’t consulted.” Look, Claire, you were free to step in at any time but you let this play out. You allowed your affection for Manaria to blind you, but everyone else from your minions to the Princes knew what was going on.

Sorry, Claire, you’re too late to stop this and Rae doesn’t have the time to idle about, not with what she’s looking for.

Ah, the tediousness of farming for that ultra rare drop.

Claire kept that necklace Rae gave her the entire time. In fact, she’s been wearing it everyday since. It’s proof that she wants to believe in Rae’s love, if only she wasn’t given so many reasons to doubt.

Woah, woah, woah, that vision of the future! They didn’t just include the two together, and their house, they also showed the twins! Don’t tease me like that, I want to see it all in anime form! If only the odds for a second season weren’t so low, this wouldn’t hurt so much!

Damn, Rae is going all in and all out. That line made more sense in my head.

Yes, Claire, tell us how you really feel! None of this will matter if you’re not even honest with yourself or with Rae.

All those damn expectations of being a noble lady. Let’s be frank, nobles don’t marry for love, marriage is a formal contract between families.

Predictable. This is yet another contest that is practically rigged in Manaria’s favour. There is no offering known to be heavier than the Flower of Flora, so the best you could hope for is a tie, and even that is a difficult feat, given how rare that flower is and how difficult it is to obtain.

Ugh, more poems. And it’s so obviously fake, too. You’re just reciting someone else’s words that don’t carry the same meaning or feeling as the original.

Cutting it a little close there, Rae.

Wow, Manaria actually looks happy to see Rae, meanwhile Claire is immediately concerned by the state she is in.

Manaria has a flower of legend, and Rae has what looks like a random stick. Not hard to imagine the reaction she’d get.

They have no faith in her. As if Rae hasn’t proven that she tends to know more than she could possibly know.

Well, Misha, you got your miracle.

Rod, don’t act like you didn’t have your own doubts not two seconds ago.

YES! THAT’S HOW YOU DO IT! THAT’S A REAL CONFESSION OF LOVE!

That 180 is just as jarring in anime form. It’s like this girl just forgot she’s been playing the role of the villainess for the past few weeks.

Look at Claire’s hand, like it’s still searching for Rae’s.

The most shocking part about this is Manaria is actually serious. In fact, at this point in the novel Rae suddenly remembers a little bit of trivia about Manaria from the game. It was possible that Manaria might confess feelings for the protagonist, not that it actually led to anything if she did.

This is even better than the novels and manga, Claire didn’t just yell her true feelings (and Rae’s name, finally), she actually grabbed Rae and put herself between them.

Oh, how we missed this banter. It’ll take a bit longer for Claire to get over that knee-jerk reaction but now we know she doesn’t actually mean it.

That crowd’s getting a full show today. The following year’s festival is going to be a snore fest in comparison.

Early credit again, I see.

Someone actually made an accurate prediction that the story of Poesie Amour was foreshadowing Rae and Manaria’s fates. Like the two suitors in the story, Rae would go on to marry Claire, while Manaria would go on to be a great queen. I can’t believe it never occurred to me before, not even on rereads when I knew the outcome.

No, no, Rae has a right to feel the way she does. Manaria spent most of the time being a menace to Rae, stomped all over her feelings and even threatened Claire. Even if it was all ultimately for her benefit, that doesn’t erase all the emotional damage or the scars.

Wow, Rae, you just figured it out. And yeah, there very likely was a better way to go about it, but Manaria has already admitted she’s kind of a shitty person.

After those confessions, everyone’s pretty much accepted that they’ll be getting together.

I’m surprised more people haven’t confronted Rae about the things she seems to know. I suppose everyone else is taking the wait and see approach, but since she’s leaving, Manaria had to ask now.

As has been hinted many times, a revolution is coming, and those don’t tend to end well for the people in power. Even if Claire doesn’t turn full Villainess, she’ll still likely be executed for no other reason than that she is a noble. That is the future Rae has been working to prevent.

Look at their classmates, they clearly have no idea how to react, yet all their friends have accepted that this is just the way they are, even as a couple.

And that’s a wrap. While I’ll keep my fingers crossed for a Season 2, I will recommend that novels and manga. The next few arcs are particularly interesting. Personally, I’m a big fan of Chapter 6: Yu’s Secret (FYI, this episode ended Chapter 4: The Scales of Love). That chapter is packed with all sorts of good and interesting stuff.

[albentelisa]

Hi. So you remember the Lady of the Lake, right? Well, what if she had managed to disguise herself as a mortal woman?

That human form she took on is non other Barabra Lake, thus already making Jim half human.

When he gets the amulet in this AU, he knows his mom hates Merlin, so he doesn't tell her at first.

Oh, in this AU Bular is definitely not the only one sent flying. Merlin will get that honor for sure as well. James Lake Sr. too, I guess. And maybe even Strickler (if he ever tries something dumb, LOL).

Jokes aside, I'll say that James Lake Sr is the one responsible for Barbara's disguise. My headcanon is that Nimue can grant wishes, but she chooses to grant those only if someone voices their deepest desires (as she hates hypocrites). So, one day James amid his travel to Britain, somehow wandered into the Nimue's current abode and voiced his wish to meet his perfect woman (he was just fooling around and had no idea that it would be granted). Nimue assumed a mortal woman's form of Barbara appearing right before him. Just to say, their relationship didn't work because there never was any true love between the two of them.

Nimue would prefer to return to her old life after the breakup, but she stays with humans because it's something Jim genuinely desires. And honestly, his wish is the one she is actually happy to grant.

As for Jim in this AU, he knows a bit about his mom, but definitely not everything. Like, he's aware that Barbara is inhuman and even caught a glimpse of her monstrous form once (it's an experience he'd rather forget) and that she dislikes Merlin for some reason (Barbara never told her son about her imprisonment, so Jim is entirely unaware how serious that hatred is).

Jim inherited his mom's abilities but cannot use those as he was traumatized after seeing Barbara's inhuman form and is scared to turn into something similar so he subconsciously seals those.

Why Barbara never learns about Jim finding the amulet despite being able to read souls? Well, she refuses to read Jim's soul, respecting his privacy, and because she knows that Jim doesn't lie or hide things from her (well, he DID before the amulet).

However, Barbara read Strickler's soul. She knows he's inhuman, but well, he has no ill intent towards Jim. And Jim's plan to keep things secret from his mom flies out of the window because she also learns about Strickler's desire to get the amulet from her son.

Barbara is pissed (to put it mildly) that Merlin's amulet chose her son. For her, it's like the hateful wizard's trying to control Jim (like he did with her). However, soon she realizes that Jim wants to be a hero himself and vows to support him. She tinkers with the amulet though as she believes that her son should fight for his own ideals, not her former tormentor's glory.

Barbara becomes a team member, but her abilities are limited (because it's either keeping her human form or regaining her full powers). She isn't ready to drop her human disguise though because of Jim (as she is scared he won't be able to see her as his mother anymore).

Strickler changes the sides pretty fast because Barbara sees that his true desire is the liberating changelings and encounters him about it. The same goes for Nomura. Strickler tries to recruit Otto too, but he is too scared to betray Gunmar. Otto is also the one who frees Angor Rot here, hoping to use him as a bodyguard from both Jim's team and Bular (who is pretty much enraged after the two changelings desert).

NotEnrique gets planted into Claire's family (as well as some other changelings are transferred as the Janus Order has a shortage of manpower now).

Jim still encounters a stalking, and to defeat it he unwittingly goes full monster form which terrifies him to his core. He starts questioning whether he has any right to be with his friends. Toby tells him that it doesn't matter.

Much like in the canon, Claire snoops around and learns Jim's secret about the trollhunting. She joins the team before they learn about NotEnrique, so the eventual reveal hits her the most. Claire tries to find the Killahead alone to travel to the Darklands, and she locates it but gets kidnapped by Angor Rot. Otto uses her as a hostage to get the amulet from Jim.

During the Battle of Two Bridges, Claire manages to wrestle the shadow staff from Angor, Otto and Angor escape, and Bular is sucked into the Darklands (getting his wish to reunite with his father).

Now the only thing remaining is to save Enrique, but it meets more opposition at the Trollmarket as there is a risk to unseal both Gunmar and Bular. Even Strickler thinks it's unreasonable.

Meanwhile, Otto tries to get the bridge back. He still hopes to get Gunmar's trust back. He exploits Angor for that and sends assassins from the Order after different members of Jim's team.

Angor makes a deal with Jim and gets free eventually.

However, Jim goes to the Darklands alone in this AU as he feels guilty because many of his teammates have some injuries after the Janus Order's non-stop attacks.

In the Darklands, Jim notices that something is wrong with him. Apparently, the constant sense of danger makes his inhuman half resurface. So far those are partial transformations that he can reverse but those might get worse. At some point, he stumbles upon Bular who is exiled after his failure. They fight initially but make a truce as Bular is lost and has no idea what to do now.

Together they locate the nursery and save Enrique. Jim plans to bring Bular along with him to the surface and give him a second chance, but they only manage to get Enrique as the bridge is destroyed (and it's only partially Usurna's fault as the guards see Bular walking along with Jim and misunderstand everything).

Barbara is enraged, especially after reading Usurna's true intentions in her soul. Alas, most of the Tribunal doesn't believe her accusations (Vendel and Blinky are the only ones aware of her true identity), and both Vendel and Blinky are accused of treachery and conspiring with Gunmar. The rest of the team escapes and then they are divided into two teams to jailbreak Blinky and Vendel and to recover the Bridge.

Barbara manages to force open the passway to the Darklands (as she had altered the amulet before so she has some control over its abilities now) and the team goes to the Darklands searching for Jim. The fight against Gunmar happens there and Jim defeats him with the help of his team. Bular decides to stay in the Darklands and rebuild the Gumm-Gumm kingdom, but this time make it a better place for other trolls.

However, the victory is soured by the fact that the entire team is considered criminals at the Trollmarket now as Usurna has seized control. She also makes a pact with Otto, who wants to liberate Morgana. Otto steals the amulet from Jim and destroys it to get a map to Merlin's tomb. Initially, Trollhunters have no idea why Otto did it, deciding it was just a revenge plan.

Otto wakes up Merlin by accident but still gets his staff and escapes. Merlin gets out and after some misfortunes finds Douxie and they go to contact Trollhunters. Obviously, Barbara isn't happy. She isn't going to help Merlin but begrudgingly agrees when Douxie and Jim ask her.

Meanwhile, Usurna and Otto free Morgana and get some powers from her. Morgana feels that those two are better for her plans than Gunmar as neither of them would risk opposing her. She also unites forces with Morando.

Jim's team learns about Aja and Krel's secret and all of them realize that their enemies work as the united forces now. The decisive clash happens and the good guys come victorious. The Trollmarket finally is free and Jim's team can go there without any complications.

Merlin isn't happy though as it seems that he anticipates something bad to happen. Not that anyone is interested in listening to his thoughts, especially Barbara who would rather send him flying somewhere.

Some time passes, and Barbara has a visit from Bellroc who proposes a truce to eradicate humanity (as the Arcane Order is sure that Nimue is as pissed about magical creatures' oppression as they are). They are surprised when she refuses.

The Arcane Order still needs Nimue's power so the Green Knight kidnaps Jim, and the Order tries to force his latent abilities out. They also attack the flying castle in the hope of capturing Nari too. Douxie, Claire, Steve, and Toby end in the past. Claire is the one who gets in prison, though as she carelessly uses her magic before Arthur and his knights. Morgana breaks her out together with all the trolls.

While visiting Nimue in the past, the team finally gets why Barbara hates Merlin that much in the present. Nimue also sees that Claire's hidden desire is to liberate Jim from the Arcane Order's control (even though she has no idea who Jim is) and during the parting she gives her a hint that Jim should snap out of it himself.

When the team is back to the present, they are forced to face the Arcane Order, Green Knight, and Jim who lost his human form entirely and pretty much berserk at the moment as he isn't familiar with his new form and all new sensations attached.

Merlin (being Merlin) suggests capturing and sealing Jim somewhere. Luckily for him, Barbara hasn't heard that. Claire is pissed though. She tries to get to Jim and reach his mind, and nearly succeeds but is forced to retreat as the Arcane Order interrupts her.

Meanwhile, Green Knight finds and kills Merlin while seizing his staff (as Jim has learned where the seals are hidden and told the Order about those). Now Bellroc and Skrael only need to capture Nari.

Claire makes an attempt to reach Jim through the Shadow realm. She meets Morgana there (Morgana was sealed there after her defeat and still isn't liberated) and tries to reason with her (Claire wasn't possessed by Morgana in this AU, so she is more open-minded about it). They both try to find Jim's soul and see that he is scared, confused, and lost. This time Claire manages to reach him and ensure that no one is scared of his monstrous form. It helps Jim to regain control and turn human once again.

[sheisjoeschateau]

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

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

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

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

A note from the writer:

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enjoy and please leave feedback :)

x, MISHA

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

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

—————

VOLUME I

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

——————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile brightly.  “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______

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

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

“Nicoooole,” she whines. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But sure enough, you did pick Carol. 

Goose. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, well she’s my best friend.”

Steve’s words landed hard. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve?” you asked, voice quiet.

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

You gasped, eyes wide.  “Steve!”

“What?  She is.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I ugly?”

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

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

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

“Wanna come over for dinner?” Steve asked.

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

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

“Yeah, but I like mushroom pizza.”

Steve scrunched his nose.  “Eww, why?”

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

“Bleck.”

“You should try them,” you insisted.  

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

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

You smirked.  “Deal.”

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

“Hey Steve?”

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

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

“You’re my best friend, too.”

__________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nicky!” your mother squealed.  

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

“Come on, baby, make a wish!”

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

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

________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve?” you asked, voice gentle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

____________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Steven!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“MOM, PLEASE, DON’T –”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This friendship is over.

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

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

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

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

“How many?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.  I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t care about them –”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were Steve’s home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve was twelve years old when he found that out.

___________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This seat taken?”

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

“Be my guest.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nah, that shit’s hot,” he sneered.  

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

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

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

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

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

Steve shrugged, reaching to give the bottle a spin.  

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

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

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

You were still waiting on your first kiss.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

He gave the bottle a good spin.  

Lo and behold, it landed on you.

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

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

Yeah.  Oh shit, indeed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Huh, you thought.  Interesting.

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

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

…but your heart was his.

…and his heart was yours.

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

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

Sweet emotion…

Sweet emotion…

You talk about things that nobody cares

Wearing out things that nobody wears

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

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

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

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

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

Some sweat hog mama with a face like a gent

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

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

'Cause the backstage boogie sets your pants on fire

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

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

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

Sweet emotion…

Sweet emotion…

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

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

I pulled into town in a police car

Your daddy said I took it just a little too far

You're telling her things but your girlfriend lied

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

Yes it did

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

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

Stand in the front just a shakin' your ass

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

I'll talk about something you can sure understand

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

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

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

_________________

To be continued…

VOLUME II next month 🖤

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

[ponett]

here's another slarpg Q&A roundup from my retrospring! this contains light spoilers for the game

in the past you've gone over how tall each of the main party are, so lemme ask you this instead: How tall are Beverly and Faith?

faith is 6'6". she is very tall. beverly's sprite is probably larger, but that's more a matter of NPC sprites generally being big rather than an indication of her actual height. i'd say she's only supposed to be around 6', give or take

What cartoons does pepper like

bartholomew only lets her watch ones that will be a bad influence on her like invader zim

We know Claire drinks, what about the rest of the Novas?

jodie and allison will drink some at social gatherings. melody tends not to, though, so if they're out together allison will usually limit herself so melody doesn't feel out of place

How do you feel about fanworks of slarpg? Specifically, which mediums would you be okay with fanworks existing in, and how do you feel about people using assets from the game?

fanworks of basically all kinds are encouraged! there's already a (very small) fangame about melody's cat in the works and i think that rules. considering my own roots as a fanartist and fangame creator i think it would be lame of me to discourage that

that being said, a few simple stipulations:

1) i ask people hold off on any sort of mass-produced merch like t-shirts or pins. custom items, commissioning someone to draw the cast, a small run of prints sold at a con table, etc. are fine by me, but i may end up making merch myself and bee and i need to make a living off of this game. when we're an operation this small, putting up a bunch of slarpg designs on redbubble could be a problem for me

2) please do not use visual assets from slarpg (including edits of my sprites) in a commercial product. using them in a mod or a freeware fangame is fine, though

3) if you do make a fangame or mod or whatever, please make sure it's clearly stated that it's unofficial, and also please don't just publicly distribute the entire game for free (modded or otherwise)

Between the 3 types of paladin Melody can become what one is the one that you pick for her?

i do a different one every playthrough >:)

From a story perspective, not a mechanical one: was polyamory ever a consideration for the party members in SLARPG? Can you see any polyamorous relationships working well between main-cast members, even if only for a little while?

i would be lying if i said this was a thing i had never considered, at least a little. it was never a serious plan for the game, but as the story and the character dynamics beyond the main couples evolved there were definitely scenes where i looked at what i'd written and went "oh people are gonna ship this, huh." i definitely see it in my own writing, believe me

the main thing is just that i don't entirely know how i would go about writing poly relationships in a satisfying way. for one i've never been part of a poly relationship, so i can't write from my own experiences there. but also i feel my strongest writing tends to focus on pairs of characters (hence all the one-on-one scenes in slarpg), so it becomes trickier when, for example, a character has two partners. i'd worry about making one more important than the other in terms of narrative focus just because of how i write. i could easily see a version of events where certain characters start dating certain other characters on top of their canon partners, though. i just don't know if it's something that i'd ever really explore myself

but i guess that's what fanfic is for

what's your favorite joke in SLARPG that got left on the cutting room floor?

i really wanted to find a way to make "irony poisoning" a status ailment but could never figure out a good way to do so

how long has claire been on hrt?

i actually couldn't say if claire is on hormones. if she is it hasn't been for as long as melody (who's been on hrt for several years by the start of the game)

I noticed your game seems very deliberate on exactly how it approaches the topic of sex and suggestive content. Obviously it wanted to avoid being "horny furry bait game." But, it also avoided being aggressively chaste as well. It struck a careful balance, where it gives the impression that it's something characters do and think about, but isn't the focus of the story so it stays incidental. Was there ever much consideration on the exact tone in this regard? Or did you just do what felt like a good fit?

this was absolutely something i thought about a LOT. perhaps more than people realize!

i mean for one, yes, the problem of people assuming the game was just furry porn based on the title was always an issue. (not that there's anything wrong with furry porn games, this just isn't one.) the game's origins as a successor to an old fangame also presented an issue, because i was worried that people who knew about the old project but hadn't actually played it might, like, assume that it was extremely horny if i pushed things in slarpg too far? which could, in turn, color peoples' perception of slarpg. they're very distinct projects to me, but i'll never escape the reductive perception of them being Literally The Same Game

at the same time, i started work on the game at age 21 and finished it almost age 29, and in that period my feelings about what i wanted to make and also the attitudes in the wider queer community shifted a lot. there's been pushback against the idea that queer media always needs to be "wholesome" and "pure," with conflicting attitudes about the "wholesome games" marketing label in the indie scene mixing with very valid fears about puritanism growing in the queer community online - stuff like the perpetual "kink at pride" fearmongering. and i didn't want to be seen as being part of some push to erase the sex from sexuality or whatever. even beyond that, i've always kind of rankled at the "cute aesthetic = wholesome" thing. i worried about the idea that the game was "wholesome" and all fluff leading to people getting upset at the more intense parts of the story. and also, just, you know. the characters are all in their 20s. i think it would be weird if they didn't know what sex or alcohol or swear words or whatever were. i think they'd become less relatable and real if it was too sanitized

but of course the flipside is that it's a 16-bit jrpg throwback game and i was absolutely overthinking how much people expected adult themes to be touched upon, queer subject matter or no. i think i struck a good balance in the end where it's lightly acknowledged without disrupting the expected tone of the genre. i'm glad it's speaking to people

(why yes i struggle with RSD how can you tell)

How seriously does Allison take caring for her sword(s)? As an unabashed ADHD sword lesbian myself I gotta say it's a not insignificant amount of (very fulfilling) work.

i think her natural inclination would be to be a little careless with them, but countless lectures from jodie have instilled a sense of responsibility in her when it comes to taking proper care of her weapons

I ask this with no weird intentions - characters like Melody and Jodie have no paw pads on their hands, but do they have them on their feet?

you know what? sure. why not

how did faith get such a big job at 24? did she know someone... is there nepotism in this world. I demand accountability.

faith was always an overachiever and was basically training throughout her teens and early 20s to become guardian. when she put herself out there as a candidate she was already generally popular with the community for her skill with magic and her work ethic, so it wasn't hard for her to win the election in a small town like greenridge

Were there any plans during development for Allison or the other two to meet or confront Harmony in the Astral Plane? Or was she always just meant to be exclusive to Melody's character arc?

the entirety of what was planned for harmony is there in the game

is the city shown in the intro supposed to be brightport?

not necessarily! the identity of the city in the intro is unspecified, although brightport definitely looks something like that

Jodie’s theme from when she was gonna be a dog (apparently?) has a very different feel to it. Was her puppysona a very different character than the danger kitten? Or was her intro in the story simply different?

i was still just figuring out jodie as a character at the time - both her design AND her personality - so bee didn't have the most complete information to work off of when trying to write the fourth character theme

i think initially she was going to perhaps be somewhat more brash, being the one Actually Qualified Adventurer on the team who's surprised that her friends made it so far without her, and she would've been exasperated with claire's shenanigans instead of enabling them. she was also intended to be more of a foil to melody, seeming to be (from melody's perspective) the person everyone compares her to. which might be why i thought to make her a canid? this juxtaposition between the two is still an element in the game, but it's more subtle and i rarely draw direct attention to it. and she was intended to be much more bullheaded, with her arc revolving around her running off and picking a fight that really didn't need to be picked off-screen to set up a side quest that was completely cut

obviously a lot of this doesn't sound very much like jodie at all! she was the character i struggled to nail down the most. if she was too brash and critical of claire's decisions then she'd have way too much overlap with allison, so instead she became claire's best friend who's supportive and trusting to a fault, and who's also the most earnest and straightforward member of the team

[gingerylangylang1979]

Season 3, 4, 5 and story structure: Where are we currently?

The WGA and SAG strike are definitely putting any further seasons in jeopardy. Given this is currently the top FX show I do think they will pick up production again at some point... I hope and pray. 

This season was titled The Bear Part 2. But we have no idea how many parts are intended or even if the number of parts are already planned. But I thought it was pretty bold to assign a part. Storer has said last season was kind of an intro/setup so I feel the story is just getting started more than we are now at the middle. Why? This season seems to still be building towards a climax, more than the actual climax. 

Three act story structure includes Setup, Confrontation, Resolution. Four act story structure includes Setup, Rising Action, Conflict, Resolution. Five act story structure includes Exposition, Rising Action, Climax, Falling Action, and Resolution. These are very simplified breakdowns because there are elements within the elements, but you get the idea for pacing. This could easily be plotted out with each season aligning with each element of structure or some could be combined. But let’s just assume each season is one element. What does season one and two imply about future seasons and where exactly do you think we are in the story? What do you think THE CONFLICT will be?

I just don’t think Carmy’s conflict this season is enough to be THE big conflict of the series. I think the bigger central conflict will build off of his lack of balance and prioritization, but I don’t think opening the restaurant on a tight deadline, getting stuck in the freezer, and ruining the relationship with Claire is THE THING. If they only do three seasons I guess they could fit a bigger conflict and resolution into one season but I still feel like we don’t know everyone well enough to wrap everything up in a satisfying way in three seasons, especially with 10 episodes. 

I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being greedy and want five seasons. I don’t want more than that but I do think there is enough material to fully utilize three more seasons and tell a complete, rich, epic story without it dragging. 

I think the key is to figure out what is the central conflict. Have we seen it already or is it yet to come? 

This is another reason I’m so irritated with production with streaming. Rarely are show runners allowed the space to fully flesh out the best story structure. Number of seasons and episodes per season are so condensed and there is no security. Previously, even if ratings declined, if a show was a big enough hit in the first and second season, there was usually some kind of security of it being around five seasons because it would likely still generate enough revenue to be considered a cash cow. The fear before was a show going on too long and getting stale. Now shows barely have a chance at that, which is partly positive, but I feel some shows are rushed because they only get two to three seasons. Yet, they wonder why audiences are fickle? It’s partly because you don’t let us fully engage with a good story. Also, there are just too many damn shows. I would much rather have fewer better shows with bigger audiences. 

I really hope whatever Storer has in mind, he is allowed to complete it with the time he needs. 

[youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms]

Cross-legged In The Dim Light They Say, "What A Sad Sight,"

Words: 1084

Warnings: language, regret, Chris being a dick lowk, insecurities, maybe ooc Chris and probably bad writing

Resident Evil Masterlist Main Masterlist Join My Taglist

Chris is PROBABLY OOC (as I suck at not being able to keep them from being OOC)

Was nearly named "Does Your Husband Know The Way That The Sunshine Gleams From Your Wedding Band?"

Chris and Reader have been together since like 2003, married since 2005 (so obv 2010)

Not Proof-read and I think it can be seen every once and a while (I know you can see where my brain couldn't function how to write the scene so I just guessed and hoped for the best)

Loosely has themes from the songs "right where you left me" by Taylor Swift, "Headfirst Slide into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet" by Fall Out Boy

Anywho, enjoy

Love Z <3

She sat at the table, waiting for him to show. She had been there for an hour already. He was late. Again. Of course, she knew that she shouldn't have gotten her hopes up. Afterall, it was Chris. And with Chris work always came first. Even over his relationships.

Even if it was his 5 year wedding anniversary. Even if he had promised to show. Promised that he wouldn't flake. He always did.

Work always came before anything.

She sighed, she knew what the people around her were thinking. What the workers were saying when they knew she wouldn't be able to hear. This wasn't the first time he had flaked at this restaurant. Leaving her stranded and by herself.

She looked down at her wedding band, noticing the way that it reflected in the lighting. She ran a hand through her hair before looking at her phone, seeing if there was any update from him or someone else at the BSAA. But there was nothing but radio silence. Her previous texts continue to be unanswered.

"Are you ready to order, miss?"

She gave a tightlipped smile to the server, "Just give me a few minutes. I'm waiting for my husband to show."

"Very well, I'll come back in a few minutes to see if he's shown."

Y/N nodded, she could sense the pity that was laced in the server's voice. She did nothing as she watched them walk away. God, she felt so pathetic. It was ridiculous to think he'd show. They got Jill back a year ago and he was so involved in making sure she was healing properly. Caused him to miss all kinds of dates.

Her birthday, Claire's birthday, Christmas, their anniversary last year, and now their anniversary this year! All things that he never missed before. She watched as time passed on her small watch. Watched as he still didn't show.

So when the server came back, Y/N gave them a small smile before asking for something to go. That she guessed something tied him up so she'll just take it home to him. They nodded and took her order.

God, she just felt even more pathetic.

She just wanted to go home and go to sleep at this point. Go home and forget this entire night. Forget and pretend she never heard the workers whisper about what a sad sight this was. She just wanted to go home and pray that her husband had been called away and he was unable to tell her.

--------

She silently opened the door to her their place. She was mentally tired. All that she wanted to do was curl up and cry. She felt pathetic. But why wouldn’t she? Chris bailed. No text. No call. No warning.

He did what he always did when work called.

But she knew that she couldn’t be angry. She never could be. Not at him. She knew he really had no choice. He was their golden boy. They needed him. Needed him more than they needed her. She sighed as she placed the bag of food on the table. It was ridiculous. Truly it was. 

She silently walked back to the bedroom, wanting to get out of these clothes that felt like they were constricting her. She felt ridiculous. Ridiculous for thinking he would be able to make it. For even agreeing to his plan. Her hands had a small shake to them as she unzipped the back of the dress. She wondered why she even bothered anymore. Why she ever believed that he would be there. 

She carefully removed her undergarments, not wanting to toss them in the bin, she left them with the dress on a pile on the floor before grabbing pajamas to change into. Once the clothes were over her body, she carefully removed all of her jewelry, ignoring the jingling keys and the click of the front door unlocking again. She just wanted to get some sleep at this point. Forget this night ever happened. 

When she reached her wedding ring, she stared at it. Did he even love her anymore? Everything felt like a never ending battle for him to remember she was there. That she was right there. She shook her head as she removed the ring. She didn’t want to think about that. 

“Y/N?” She glanced over to his body in the doorway, “What’re you just now getting undressed for? It’s nearly 11 at night. You’re usually in bed by now when you’re off.” He came over to wrap his arms around her waist, but she pushed him off her. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, “Nothin’.”

“That’s a lie darling.” He reached out to her, “What’s wrong?”

She ignored his question as she walked into the bathroom. “There’s food from Jerry’s on the table.”

“Yeah. I saw. Why’d you go there for food?”

She tossed a washcloth in the sink and turned the water on. “We had a reservation for 8, remember?”

She heard the sharp intake of air he took when the words left her mouth. “Fuck.” The sound of his feet were heard as he walked in the bathroom. She saw the look of guilt over his face when she saw his reflection in the mirror. “Was that today?” She could hear in his voice that he already knew the answer.

So she gave a simple nod. “But it’s fine. Used to it by now. Tipped the server really good for having to put up with me waiting for so long.”

“I’m so sorry, I totally forgot we had a date planned for tonight.”

She shrugged, “Don’ care.” She grabbed her bottle of sleeping pills and popped one into her mouth before swallowing it. “Just wanna know if you even know why we had it.” When he stayed silent, she pushed past him and to the bed, collapsing onto it as she already felt the sleep taking over her. She yawned, “5 years strong now.” She grabbed her pillow and held it, just like she had done many nights when she was alone. “But I get it, work is important. I’ll let you finish whatever paperwork you have. See you in the morning.”

“Y/N--” He had started, but he knew it was too late. Sleep had already overtaken her body. He mentally cursed at himself as he looked up at the ceiling. How could he have been so stupid and forgotten?

What could he do to get her to forgive him?

[fiona-frauenfell]

MPHFPC character’s godly parents

because the release date for the PJO show was announced yesterday!

Jacob, son of Hermes

I’m going to be honest, I don’t have a real reason as to why I put Jacob here; it just feels right. It might be the fact that Hermes is made to be the catchall cabin, and that for some time, Jacob doesn’t know his peculiarity. I think it’s be cool if he was “unclaimed” until the end of the first book.

Emma, daughter of Ares

Ares is a rather aggressive and rash god, similar to Emma. She is known to snap from time to time and sometimes lets her emotions get the best of her. Where do fire powers come into this? One word; spite. I think I’d be funny if Ares somehow gave a child of his for powers to spite his girlfriend’s husband (though I know this is practically impossible.)

Millard, son of Athena

Millard is very intelligent; he’s the brains of the operation who always has a plan. I think this puts him perfectly in Athena cabin! Also, Annabeth got a hat that makes her invisible from Athena, and Millard is invisible, so…

Bronwyn, daughter of Tyr

Bronwyn feels like the child of a war god to me, but Ares/Mars didn’t feel right, so Tyr is what I decided. One of the things children of Tyr can do (or I guess can’t do) is never refuse a challenge. In book one Emma claims that Bronwyn “could not forgo a competition of any kind,” This makes it seem like Bronwyn would fit in fine with other children of this war god.

Hugh, son of Mars

Mars is a god who will never fight without a reason, and I see a lot of that in Hugh. On numerous occasions he’s seen fighting with people to defend those he cares about. He’s also the god of agriculture, which is quite compatible with Hugh’s peculiarity.

Fiona, daughter of Demeter

Do I really need to explain this one? For those who don’t know, Demeter is the goddess of plants and her children have the ability to manipulate all types of vegetation. That’s also a pretty accurate description of Fiona’s peculiarity.

Horace, son of Somnus

His last name is Somnusson; Somnus son, like son of Somnus, Roman god of sleep. Children of Somnus also have the ability to control dreams (even if they don’t have prophetic ones.)

Enoch, son of Apollo

Yes, Hades is an obvious option for Enoch, but I think Apollo could work, as well. I really like this idea because Enoch’s peculiarity is a lot more anatomical than Hades children, since he physically has to put the hearts in their bodies. And with Apollo being the god of medicine, this could be categorized as healing? Maybe?

Olive, daughter of Frigg

Frigg is the norse sky goddess, and she’s the goddess of family. Similarly, Olive is a very welcoming character who can become friends with almost anyone, and make anyone feel like family. She also can float, which is similar to a power many demigods of the sky gods possess; flying.

Claire, daughter of Freya

Freya is also a Norse goddess; specifically one of love and beauty. Claire is described as being a pretty girl who looks almost doll-like. But just like Freya (who is also the goddess of war), Claire has a vicious side when she uses her back mouth. The duality of this goddess works perfect for this equally dual character.