#but i just like ... refuse to accept it limiting me in any way so i'm probably just making it worse 🤠

[sungtaro]

[oreolemur]

The Lady's Butler

"Is your tea hot enough, Mistress?", the handsome butler asked. Sebastian has been working for you for years, never taking his demon eyes off you. "Is there anything else you want, my lady?", he questioned. "Yes, Sebastian. You wouldn't mind making my nightly bath would you?", you asked, taking a sip of your tea. "It is my duty as your humble servant to make your bath as enjoyable as possible, Mistress", Sebastian bowed, showing his handsome and devilish smile in a seemingly innocent way. "How many rose petals would you like me to place? A light scented water or perhaps even oil?", he asked, leaning closer to you. Watching him get closer, you slightly blushed. "Y-yes...a touch of oil would be nice. And....", you paused. "A nice glass of wine would suit it perfectly". Sebastian's smile grew wider. "Of course, Mistress", he answered, bowing once again. "I shall prepare your bath with some oil and a glass of wine. Would you like anything else, my lady?", he asked. 

You shook your head, "No, Sebastian", you said. "You've done nothing but enough for me tonight", you stated. "You are very kind, Mistress", Sebastian smiled and then walked away with a swift motion. You soon heard running water coming from the bathroom, which was usually the indicator that Sebastian had begun preparing your bath. The butler soon returned with the wine and prepared the bath, adding the scented oil and the glass of wine to the tub, then he left the room, waiting for you to call him so that he could assist you with your bath. As you finished up dinner, you stood up, heading to the bathroom. "Sebastian?", you called him. "Yes, Mistress", Sebastian quickly answered, his demon eyes darting towards you with a lustful glint. He was leaning against the door frame, waiting for you to enter the bathroom. Sebastian's appearance was always perfect, from his hair to the uniform, which fitted his physique perfectly. He was ready to help you with whatever you desired, he was your humble servant, after all.

"Would you mind...undressing me? I'm much too tired to get this hellish dress off myself", you asked. Sebastian's eyes stared at you intently. "Yes, Mistress", he replied, walking towards you and then gently taking your dress off. "May I ask one favor though?", he then asked while untying the dress from the back. "What favor shall you ask, Sebastian?", you replied. "I was wondering...may I stay and watch?", he asked, his devilish eyes twinkling with desire, although he still managed to maintain his stoic composure, he couldn't contain himself completely. Unfazed by his question, you simply accepted it. "Yes you may. I might need you to bathe me", you smiled sweetly. Sebastian's face lit up into a wide smile. You knew that he was eager to help you with anything, as his loyalty to you knew no limits. He didn't just obey, he enjoyed satisfying any of your desires. "At your service, Mistress", he then bowed and followed you to the bath and waited for you to enter. Sebastian took your hand into his, helping you into the tub.

Sebastian made sure to give you enough space to settle comfortably in the tub before he took the glass of wine and poured the liquid into the water, letting the scented oil and the scent of wine take over the tub. Sebastian's eyes stared at you with desire; he wanted to keep staring from afar, but he had to keep up his servant attitude after all. As you watched him pour you glass, you offered him some. "Would you like a sip, Sebastian?", you asked, handing the glass to him. "You've worked so hard for me, at least relax a little". Sebastian's gaze shifted to the glass of wine for a moment, before he looked back at you with his devilish gaze. "I cannot refuse a drink from my Mistress", he responded, taking the glass with grace and taking a few sips. He was eager to do anything for you, but drinking from the same glass as you was one of those rare moments that he wouldn't miss.

Sebastian's eyes followed your every movement, observing every gesture and every curve that your body made as you relaxed in the bath. His breath shortened and his stare became less steady, his desire becoming more and more evident as he continued to drink from the glass. It was already clear to you that he desired you, but this was rare behavior for a simple servant. You knew deep down Sebastian loved you, but you tried not to let him know that you knew. "Can you hand me a washcloth, Sebastian?", you asked. "Yes, Mistress", Sebastian replied, quickly picking up the cloth and handing it to you. Although his desire for you was becoming evident, he made sure to control himself at all times. A simple servant was not supposed to make a move on the Lady of the house, but he was tempted to cross that line. 

"Thank you", you said, taking the cloth from him. As you lathered it up with soap, you couldn't help but notice Sebastian staring at you. "Is something wrong?", you ask, looking at him with lustful eyes. "You look like you've seen a ghost". Sebastian didn't expect you to be so direct, as he was trying to hide his lustful intentions towards you. His gaze followed every motion that you made, and he seemed to be captivated by what he saw in front of him. "I was simply amazed by your beauty and grace, Mistress", he then replied politely, albeit his tone and body language were giving away his true feelings. "Why thank you, Sebastian", you said, proceeding to wash yourself. You allowed the butler to watch you bathe. Sebastian's eyes never left your body. 

The butler's eyes could not help but follow your every movement, he had to control himself as a servant, but these feelings he had towards you were becoming harder to hide by the moment. "Could I ask you one thing, Mistress?", he then asked softly, still maintaining his composure, as your body enticed him even more when washing yourself. "Yes?", you said. "May I help you wash?", Sebastian asked, his gaze following your body from head to toe and back again, he couldn't help but imagine touching you. "I would make sure to be extremely gentle", he then added, his gaze still piercing through every inch of your body. Without giving him a direct answer, you handed the washcloth to him. Sebastian took the cloth from you and started to bathe you. 

Although he was just a servant, the fact that you allowed him to touch your body was a huge turn-on for him. His fingers were gentle and his motions were steady, making sure to caress every inch of your body, especially whenever he washed away a small drop of soap that he had let fall on your breasts. Sebastian was a gentleman after all, but the mere fact that he was allowed to touch you was already enough to drive him crazy. "You have such soft hands, Sebastian", you complimented him. "Thank you, Mistress", Sebastian answered in a low voice. His attention had shifted to your body once again, he couldn't help himself but appreciate your beauty. He then focused on your curves, letting his hands gently move through them as they cleaned away all the remaining soap that still covered your body. "I feel clean now, thank you", you said, removing his hand. 

Sebastian took his hand back and put it at his side, but his eyes were still on your body, trying to memorize every detail of your feminine curves. "May I ask you one thing, Mistress?" he then questioned. "Yes, Sebastian", you said. "May I...cuddle with you?", Sebastian confessed. It was not common for a butler to ask such a thing, but the fact that you allowed him to touch and bathe you had awakened his desires. He knew he would probably be punished if anyone found out, but he just couldn't stop picturing you and him in bed, embracing each other. "As lonely as I am, I wouldn't mind", you said. "After all, I am quite fond of you". Sebastian's devilish smile returned. The fact that you were not only allowing him to touch your body, but that you had also confessed to liking him was more than enough to drive him crazy. "Truly?", he asked, slowly approaching you. "Yes", you replied. 

Sebastian gently took your hand and helped you to get out of the tub. He then looked at you, your curves were still wet and shiny, the moonlight passing through the window illuminated your body. His desire for you was getting the better of him and his breath shortened...his demon eyes observed every inch of your body...he was dying for a kiss. As you dried yourself off, you ordered Sebastian to wait for you in your bedroom. Sebastian took a deep breath, but he didn't hesitate to obey for a second. Although his desire was still burning inside him he knew that he had to control himself. He patiently waited for you in your bedroom, eager to see how the night would unfold. 

You put on your red silky robe, making your way into your  bedroom. You stood by the door, admiring Sebastian's tall physique. "Undress for me, Sebastian", you ordered. Sebastian's eyes widened, his body trembled slightly from your order, he was not expecting you to be so direct. His devilish smile quickly returned and he then began to quickly remove his uniform, one piece at a time, until he was completely naked. His muscles were toned and his body was perfect, the demon butler had a body to envy. He then stood before you, the desire to touch your body almost uncontrollable. As Sebastian approached you, you grabbed hold of his hand, leading him to the bed. "Lay down", you said. 

Sebastian's heart was pounding as he was led to the bed. He had pictured himself laying next to you countless times, but now it was actually happening. "Yes, Mistress", he said, quickly laying down and waiting for your next order. You took off your robe, "You know, Sebastian...", you paused. "This would be my first time having sex", you said. Sebastian's eyes widened, the fact that you hadn't been with another man before was quite tempting and appealing to him. The very thought of being your first excited him in a way he couldn't describe. "Really?" he then asked, his eyes following your every move. "Yes, is that surprising?", you asked, getting on top of him. You hovered over Sebastian's face, your noses almost touching. "Not really, considering your beauty and poise", Sebastian then said, his breath shortening as he looked up at you. You were the definition of a desirable woman. His eyes then locked onto yours, his demon eyes penetrating through you as you got on top of him. His lips were parted, the desire to kiss your perfect lips almost consuming him. "Good", you said, leaning into him. You kissed Sebastian's soft lips.

Sebastian's breath hitched as your lips touched his, and the feeling seemed to last forever. The desire he had been hiding for so long finally found an outlet in your passionate kiss, and his desire finally boiled over as his hands gently caressed your back. "How I've awaited to taste those lips..." he then whispered, giving you another passionate kiss. Sebastian's smile returned as when he flipped you on your back. He saw the way that your face became red as he made eye contact with you, he was having the time of his life, it had been so long since he had felt this way. He then lowered his lips to your neck, his breath brushing against your neck as he kissed the skin, making your body shiver slightly. “S-Sebastian…” you moaned. The butler chuckled, “Are you enjoying yourself, Mistress?”, he asked. You nod your head, enjoying Sebastian’s touch.

The demon moved from your neck, down to your stomach, then to your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses as he went down further. He grabbed hold of your legs, gently caressing your thighs. “May I?”, he asked, looking up at you with a smile. You slowly opened your legs, allowing him to do as he pleased. The butler watched as your already soaked cunt leaked with lustful juices. “Thank you, Mistress”, he said, proceeding to touch you. You felt his cold fingers make contact with your sensitive clit, causing you to twitch. “Y-your hands are cold, Sebastian”, you said. He apologized for the temperature, warming his hands up with his breath. Once they were warm enough, he touched you again. His fingers gently pinched your bud, sticking out his tongue to start licking. He slowly licked your clit, drawing circles around it. The sensation he gave you felt like heaven. 

Sebastian sucked on your clit like a ring pop, making your lower half rise up. “Please, Mistress”, Sebastian said. “Please be still”. You ignored him as you continued to move. The butler had no other choice but to hold your waist down as he resumed back to pleasure you. “Sebastian…”, you whimpered. His strong hands held you still, making it hard for you to move even the slightest bit. He looked up at you, admiring how beautiful his Mistress looked. His licks turned to sucks and then back to licks again. The stimulation was too much for you to handle. “I’m close, Sebastian”, you moaned. “I’m so close”. Sebastian quickened his pace, but felt playful at the same time. He would start and then stop, creating  a pattern of pleasure. You groaned in annoyance as he edged you on. “Please let me cum”, you begged. “I order you to let me cum”. 

Little did you know that in bed, the role of servant and master didn’t matter to him. He wanted complete control of you, no matter how much you squealed and whined. Sebastian didn’t stop teasing you, instead he made it worse by sticking his fingers inside you. He wanted to feel just how tight his Mistress was. You moaned loudly as you felt him penetrate you with two of his digits. “Ah shit”, you whined. Without  a minute to go by, you immediately came all over Sebastian’s face. “Oh my”, you said. “I’m sorry”. The butler smiled at you, pleased that you enjoyed it. As he stood up, you noticed how hard he became. “Sebastian?”, you called out. “Yes, Mistress”, he replied. You sat up, scooting towards the end of the bed where your butler was standing. Your mouth watered at the sight of his huge cock. “M-may I?”, you asked out of embarrassment. You didn’t want to admit it, but the thought of sucking his dick turned you on even more. “If you’re ok with it, my lady”, he said, glaring down at you. 

You took his cock into your hands, stroking it slowly. “Is this ok?”, you asked. Knowing how inexperienced you were, Sebastian reassured you that it was ok. “Do what you like, Mistress”, he said. You took out your tongue, licking his shaft from the base all the way up to the tip. His cock oozed with precum as you gave the tip small licks. “You taste good”, you complimented him. “So did you, my lady”, he smiled back. After licking him some more, you finally decided to put him into your mouth. You tried to fit all of him in you, but you couldn’t. Once you got down halfway, you started to gag. “Are you ok, Mistress?”, the demon asked. You gave him a thumbs up. “This is my first time having dick in my mouth. I don’t want to mess this up”, you thought. You tightened your mouth around him, bobbing your head back and forth. You sucked him hard, making sure to put in as much effort as you can. 

Sebastian moaned, feeling your soft tongue slid against his cock. Your mouth was warm and wet, making the head feel amazing. Drool leaked out of your mouth as your sucking became sloppy. You made sure that your butler was well taken care of. After all, you do love and appreciate everything that he does for you. Looking up at him, his head was pointed towards the ceiling. It was clear that he was enjoying this a lot. The longer you sucked, the more tired your mouth grew. You took him out, proceeding to jerk him off. “My mouth got tired”, you said, looking up at him. Sebastian stopped you. “My lady…”, he paused. “You should never tire yourself trying to please me”. Sebastian cupped your face, leaning down into you. He kissed your wet lips, slipping his tongue inside. 

He gently guided you back onto the bed, making sure you were underneath him again. The butler kissed your lips, then your cheek, then he began to kiss and suck on your neck. He marked your flesh, making you his forever. He grabbed hold of his cock, positioning it on your wet folds. He rubbed it against your soaked cunt, trying to lube himself up. “Are you ready, Mistress?”, he asked, staring deeply into your eyes. You looked down at his cock, spreading your legs even further. “Yes, but please be gentle, Sebastian”, you said. He tilted his head to the side, giving you  a warm smile. “Anything for you, my lady”, he said. With that, he slowly thrusted into you. “Ow”, you winced. Sebastian stopped. “Shall I continue?”, he asked. “I can stop if it becomes too much”. You ordered him not to. Sebastian proceeded, putting all of his length in you. The two of you made sweet love to each other, embracing how close the both of you were. “I love you, Sebastian”, you said. “I love you too, Mistress”. He leaned into your ear, kissing it softly. You felt the sweat from his body drip onto you. Sebastian knew how to take care of you, making him the perfect butler. “You’re mine forever”, he whispered into your ear.

[starcurtain]

Hello! I just saw your latest post and you might have been referring to my ask if it was the one about Ratiorine's differing philosophies or of what philosophies they abide by (existentialism, absurdism, etc) then that's me! If you weren't referring to that I apologize for the confusion. Sending it off anon this time so maybe it doesn't disappear 🥲

Sorry for the ask disappearing the first time; I'm not sure what happened, and I was so sad because I had been carefully holding on to it to answer it! I'm glad you were able to resend.

I do have to say first that philosophy is not my area of expertise, so there may be much more qualified philosophy buffs out there who can answer this more accurately than me, but I'll give it a go with my personal understandings of the characters:

First, Ratio is the easier of the two I think. As many people have said, he's a good fit for existentialism. His entire shtick is basically believing in the power of the individual to improve and enrich their own life, to fight valiantly regardless of the hardships imposed by their life's circumstances, and to make themself into a better person by their own choices.

It's important to underscore that this means Ratio believes in self-determination, in the idea that people's lives are not foreordained but are actually actively shaped each day by personal decisions. Therefore, people have inherent freedom to decide the course of their own lives by accepting what they approve of, refusing to accept what they disapprove of, and harnessing their own individual power to ultimately achieve self-actualization.

Essentially, Ratio works under the impression that life is not guided by something as intangible as destiny, and no matter where you start off in life, what ultimately happens to you is within your control (or at least within the control of whoever controls you). This is likely a small part of why it grates on him so badly that he wasn't recognized by Nous, because the fact that one can dedicate everything to a goal and still not achieve that goal runs contrary to his central philosophy.

If he believes that people have the power to determine the course of their own lives, then what does it say about him, who fought so hard to do exactly as he claims even idiots can do--seize control his own fate--and yet didn't succeed? Are there some things outside of man's power? It's enough to make even a renowned doctor question himself, and Ratio decided to come out on the side of "It's a personal failing, not a flaw in my philosophy." He literally said "Skill issue" to himself.

Changing tack a tiny bit here, I think it's also important to emphasize that there is a difference between existentialism and nihilism even though these philosophies dovetail. Again, I'm not an expert in philosophy, so my understanding is very limited, but the basic idea of existentialism is that "existence comes before essence"--that is, things start as a blank slate and gain nature and meaning after the fact. We are not created by some grand design, nor is there any inherent "purpose for living." Things just exist because they exist.

This is where existentialism intersects with nihilism, at the starting point that existence is inherently meaningless. But, in my personal opinion, nihilism as a philosophy fails to move beyond that. Pure nihilism is ultimately self-defeating because it leaves us with no motivation to commit to growth. It's a philosophy antithetical to the continuation of life as we know it. Existence is meaningless and any meaning you personally derive from existence is also meaningless, so why bother attempting to derive any meaning at all? This complete apathy is the Device IX that Star Rail paints as so dangerous.

And Ratio is not this way at all. His philosophy absolutely reaffirms that life can have meaning, so long as people create that meaning for themselves. He simultaneously asserts that anything that people create is not meaningless ...which basically means that meaning itself cannot be meaningless. (If that makes any sense to anyone.)

Frankly, I would argue that this philosophy may be a core part of why Ratio has not been recognized by Nous so far, rather than simply his "being a good person." (Nous is a robotic AI super-computer, why would THEY care about the presence or lack of human empathy?) Ultimately, Ratio's central philosophy about people being capable of determining their own fates and purposes also applies to his understanding of knowledge--knowledge is not something which is inherent in certain beings from birth or limited to the purview of the "special" (geniuses), but is attainable by all people. People are not "born talented" or "born untalented," they are simply "educated" or "uneducated," with the only barrier between these categories being one's own personal willingness to change. The mundane can become the divine--if they work hard enough at it.

Thus, knowledge is not wealth to be hoarded, but a currency to be spent to enrich other members of humanity.

(By the way, completely random aside--it also surprises me that everyone relates Ratio to Alhaitham from Genshin when they literally have such a glaring fundamental discrepancy in their understanding of the concept of wisdom... But anyway, back on topic!)

Ratio may (sort of) respect the members of the Genius Society, may recognize their incredible knowledge and abilities, but at the heart of the matter lies a single all-important question: Does Ratio even really believe in "genius" as a distinction (other than as a concept to insult himself)? Does he truly believe there is barrier between brilliance and idiocy that "ordinary people" can never cross?

He speaks convincingly about geniuses being different from "the ordinary," but if his core belief is that people have the power to pull themselves up out of despair and achieve greatness through effort and self-development, rather than some form of luck or god-given talent at birth, then... do born "geniuses" even really exist? Is there really an insurmountable difference between brilliant and mundane?

If knowledge is the equalizer of all sentient beings, do we not all have at least the initial capacity to become geniuses?

I personally think this central distinction about the capacity for knowledge among all humanity is the actual deciding factor in Ratio's rejection from the Genius Society, because, at the end of the day... how do you become a member of the "Genius Society" when you fundamentally reject the distinction of "genius" as an exclusive category from the start?

Ratio wants to share knowledge and uplift everyone (even if he thinks most people are starting off at the rock bottom known as idiocy).

His mission is diametrically opposed to the concept of a "Genius Society" in the first place.

He wanted in to the cool kids club because he desperately craves validation and acceptance, but the philosophical values of the Genius Society are ultimately incompatible with his own. In short, he would have to cease to be "Veritas Ratio" to succeed in joining the geniuses.

Okay, okay, back to the original point again, and just one more note about Ratio: Even though existentialism also goes hand-in-hand with absurdism, I don't think Ratio is far enough down the philosophical rabbit hole to believe in the wider definition of absurdism. Although I think he does agree with the inherent meaninglessness of existence, I don't think he views existence itself as truly irrational and the universe as as manifestation of unknowable chaos. I think he'd at least like to imagine that there are some ontological principles and inherent laws governing the operations of reality, and I think he does believe that certain things can be predicted with the application of enough thought... He certainly seems to believe in some form of "objective truth," at the very least.

I think he'd at least like to believe the universe is semi-orderly, even if he might deep down admit this is also wishful thinking.

So, to me he reads as a strong metaphor for pure existentialism, with deliberate rejections to both nihilism's apathy and absurdism's lean toward solely subjective reality.

PHEW, this is already long and I still have a whole other character to talk about... I had more to say about this topic than I thought. Sorry for the long read!

Anyway... Aventurine.

I've seen all sorts of things thrown around for Aventurine's philosophy, and while I think he does inherit a bit of Acheron's absurdism by the end of 2.1, I actually don't think Aventurine is an absurdist, an existentialist, or a nihilist.

I think Aventurine is a struggling fatalist.

He doesn't like it. We see him actively question it, but ultimately, he does come back to the concept of destiny over and over.

First, I think it's important to draw a clear distinction between Ratio and Aventurine: Ratio's existentialism is a philosophy that technically works even in a theological vacuum. Nous doesn't have to exist for Ratio's philosophy to function. Ratio's belief in the self-determination of humanity is, in fact, somewhat opposed to belief in aeons in the first place, and only works because technically the aeons of Star Rail used to be human (or were originally human creations). It's essentially an atheist viewpoint.

But Aventurine is a religious character. Like, he's just... religious. That's a fact about him. Even though we do hear his doubts, at the end of the day, he actually believes in Gaiathra, and believing in a omniscient supernatural being that is not human in origin (is from outside the aeon system) comes with a whole set of philosophical foundations that most aeon-worshipping characters just don't have in Star Rail. (Sunday is the obvious exception here, by the way.)

Kakavasha's like the one practicing pagan in the middle of an atheist convention. Awkward.

Being more serious: Religion requires faith. Faith requires the ability to believe in things you cannot verify with empirical facts. To believe in things you can only feel, never see. The belief that a goddess is watching over you, blessing you, and guiding you requires you to also accept the idea that events in your life are not always in your own control--that some of what occurs to you is decided by powers beyond your comprehension.

In essence, faith requires belief in fate. And that leads to fatalism.

No matter how much he doesn't like it, no matter how much we see him struggle with it, Aventurine does actually seem to believe in the concept of fate. He believes that some events in life are destined to occur, that some things are outside of individuals' control, and that ultimately not everything can be changed.

This is the dead opposite of Ratio's mindset: No matter how hard we fight, how far we push ourselves... in the end, sometimes people fail. Sometimes the only answer to our endless struggles is that we die, as we were destined to, before ever achieving the greatness we sought or the futures we were promised.

As an aside, I don't think faith or religion are necessarily the only factors connecting Aventurine to this particular philosophy either. Even removing theological aspects from the conversation, his extreme focus on the gambling aesthetic suggests a strong connection to fatalism too--if not a goddess, then one's fate may as well be in the hands of luck itself, of the whims of the rolling dice--or the push and pull of "powers that be," those figures of authority in the room where it happens, who make their shady deals according to preset rules and expectations, every bet resulting in an ultimately predictable outcome.

(He keeps gambling and gambling, hoping that he'll get a different result than the one he knows is inevitable...)

This is, of course, an inherently pessimistic mindset, a perfect dark-mirror to Ratio's deep-down optimism. Fatalism puts humanity into a position of powerlessness. All hopes and dreams are given over to the goddess, by whose judgment and whims the actual events of one's life are decided. Pain and poverty are inevitable trials. Suffering and death are foreordained.

And yet Aventurine has to cling to this, as much as he doubts it, as much as he hates the idea that things in his life are beyond his power to control.

Because if fate doesn't exist... If it wasn't destiny, if the tragedies of his life weren't trials from the goddess, if things weren't supposed to go this way... Then every single thing in his life really is meaningless. Everything he suffered, everyone he loved and loss, his mother's and sister's sacrifices, the torment he went through--just sheer bad luck. All of it, completely and utterly meaningless.

How can you convince yourself to keep living, in the face of such supreme and all-encompassing Nihility?

This is the central struggle of Aventurine's character, the actual mental and emotional journey we see him undertaking from 2.0 to 2.1. He is literally on the precipice, swinging between a viewpoint that he hates--his fatalistic belief in destiny--and an entirely self-defeating philosophy--nihilism--whose only possible final outcome is suicide.

This is what his talk with Acheron at the end of 2.1 is all about. This is how she saves him. In that final cutscene, we witness Aventurine reach a mental compromise, managing to finally reconcile his necessary faith in the concept of destiny with the reality that life may truly begin meaningless--but beginning meaningless does not mean staying meaningless, and believing in destiny does not bar you from making your own choices or finding your own purpose in life.

Later on in Penacony's story, we literally see Acheron use Ratio's philosophy to reject the same nihility that crept into Aventurine's:

Acheron wards off nihility's apathy through an absurdism all her own, but one which manages to enclose both Ratio's and Aventurine's otherwise incompatible mindsets: We have no way of ever knowing for certain whether the events of our lives are fated or mere nonsense. We have no way of knowing if our choices are our own or foreordained. But we don't need to know this to find meaning and value in them. Whether life is nothing more than unpredictable chaos or a predetermined pattern of cause and effect, what matters is what you make of it.

Ultimately, I think that this post has really helped me recognize just how well Aventurine and Ratio work as philosophical foils.

They really are perfect opposites.

Aventurine's fatalism is deterministic, while Ratio's existentialism is self-deterministic. Aventurine's philosophy is inherently pessimistic; Ratio's is inherently optimistic. Ratio's philosophy operates on a core belief in the freedom of humanity to decide their own paths in life, while Aventurine hates but does ultimately believe that people aren't really in control, that even if no gods are guiding us, we can't rise above our own natures. Ratio's philosophy makes meaning from growth; Aventurine's makes meaning from loss...

And they both struggle with fundamental doubts in their own philosophies, core questions that are directly tied to their own lives. Aventurine worries that his faith might be misplaced, that destiny might not exist, and that everything he suffered might have been in pointless, empty vain. Ratio faces the crisis of recognizing that his core belief in the power of humankind to determine their own paths and make their own meaning might not actually apply to everyone--because it doesn't seem to apply to himself.

It's literally only by bridging this philosophical binary with Acheron's anti-Nihility absurdist rhetoric that we can reach some sort of healthy outcome. That's why it takes both Ratio's note and Acheron's comments to finally lead Aventurine to acceptance. Ratio probably needs a little bit of Aventurine's "If you didn't make it into the Genius Society, there's got to be a reason" mindset to finally reach some peace with his situation too.

I'm not even a philosophy expert and even I can see that there's really only one takeaway here: These two characters were totally written with each other in mind.

Aventurine and Ratio need each other on core metaphysical levels! 😂

It's so good guys. You can't see it, but I'm making chef's kisses, I promise.

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

Hiii LOVE your fic 🫶🏻! I was wondering if you could write a fic where everything that happens in the chase scene, happens to fem!reader but Miguel actually catches up to her & kinda knocks her down. He begs her not to do this, to stay down. As she gets up she asks him if any of it was real, he says it was and still is. He tells her that he thought that if he pursue her romantically then she would accept her dad's fate & wouldn't go against him (of course it doesn't work) she says she can't do that & escapes. He loses it a little & starts destroying everything & makes it everybody's mission to find her

Just pure angst 😭 I'm sorry if this is a lot

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Summary: You finally understand the true purpose of the Spider Society; protecting the canon, protecting the multiverse even at the cost of all the Spiders' suffering. But you were going to stop at nothing to find your way home, though Miguel isn't keen on letting you go.

Warnings: Angsty, Miguel gets angry.

“Miguel…what are you doing,” you ask softly, still not wanting to believe what you were seeing. All around you, members of the Society began closing in, caging you in an inescapable circle.

You didn’t want to accept it. That all these people, the ones you have grown to call family would turn their back on you in the blink of an eye. Or rather an order from their leader.

“I can’t let you leave, mi vida,” he says, eyes apologetic but unrelenting.

“What is the purpose of this place, the true purpose of this place Miguel,” you ask, your voice hardening. You had always believed when Miguel first recruited you it was to act as Spider-Man across the multiverse, no longer limited to your own hometown. But it seems there was some other agenda you were made unaware of.

He hesitates for a moment before exhaling lowly, eyes boring into yours.

“The Spider Society…was created to protect the canon of the multiverse. To ensure that in each world the events progress as they should,” he explains as the world disappears around everyone, replaced with holograms of a complex web.

“I don’t understand, what does that have to do with me saving my father?” you ask, and he winces.

You were never supposed to see the hologram and the message that followed it, you realize now. But you had snuck into the monitoring room, carrying a lunch of all of Miguel’s favourite foods when you saw it.

A hologram of your father going about his day, the message ‘Canon Event Detected. Time: 2 Days’ followed by the words ‘Soon to be Deceased’.

You thought it was some sick joke, some prank a cruel spider thought to play on you. But when you asked Miguel about it he refused to make eye contact with you, and that’s when the intervention began.

“Your father dying, is a canon event,” he says. “Just like how every person in this room undergoes their own canon events, their own version of loss. It's what ties every person in this room together in the web that makes up the Arachno-Humanoid Polymultiverse,” he explains, and you only grow more confused as he acted like that explanation justified any of this.

“So you’re saying you know that some of the most important people in every Spider’s life will die, and you just let it happen?” you ask, in disbelief at the blatant cruelty.

“It must happen, to ensure that life continues. That it doesn’t disintegrate into nothing…like how my universe disappeared.”

You only shake your head, taking a step back as your breath becomes slightly unsteady.

“You’re saying that our job here is to make everyone suffer, because of something that you fucked up a long time ago?!” you say, and his eyes narrow at you. It was harsh, but it was true. Perhaps the cumulation of disordered events could destroy a universe, but there was no way of proving that slight changes would hurt anything.

Scientific fact arises through countless hours of testing and experimentation. One result that happened one time shouldn’t dictate what the conclusion will be.

“You can’t tell me not to save my father, Miguel! I can’t just let him die if I can do something about it,” he says, and a look of pity washes over his face as he walks closer to you, but you take a step back.

“All this happens for a reason, these canon events allow us to become who we are, even if it hurts,” he says gently. And even though you hate to say it, it soothes you. His voice always has.

So much so, that you let down your guard for a single moment. Allowing him to come close and slip the watch right off of your wrist.

“No!” you say, trying to take it from his grasp but he was too fast. “How am I supposed to go home?”

“You won’t,” he says in turn.

“I’m sorry,” a voice cuts in from behind you. Jess, with a sympathetic look in her eyes. “I know it's hard, but it's for the greater good.” Looking around, you see all your closest friends surround you, but against you.

“Even you, Peter?” you ask softly, and he only glances away with guilt.

“2 days? That’s plenty of enough time, I’ll get home one way or another,” you say, glaring at Miguel.

“I can’t let you do that,” he says before he tosses a trap right at your feet. Before it can work, you use your telekinesis to throw it back, trapping him instead.

“STOP! ENOUGH OF THIS!” Miguel shouts. It was the first time in your life you had ever heard him shout, and frankly, it scared you as you watch him try to claw his way out.

Everyone immediately starts to move in on you, but you throw your arms out casting a force field that throws everyone back.

Leaving an opening for escape.

~

Running from hundreds of different spiders all on the hunt for you was not easy. It doesn’t make you feel very superhuman when all that are chasing after you were also superhuman, and quite frankly you were exhausted.

Not only physically, but mentally as well. The whole situation was taking a toll on you even if you were trying to shove it to the back of your head.

Luckily everything served as a pretty good distraction for the pain your heart was in.

“You can’t keep running,” Jess says as you leap from car to car on the freeway, tailing behind you on her motorcycle.

“What choice do I have?” you say, though your voice cracks. You see her determined expression falter. You and she grew close soon after you joined the Society, she was truly one of your best friends.

But best friends don’t keep things from each other, especially things as important as the supposed ‘cause’ you were all working for.

You notice her hesitancy, and that’s when you strike. Kicking her off her bike, you pin her to a car with your webs as you snatch the watch from her wrist.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” she says, looking up at where you hung from the vehicle, sadness in her eyes.

“You already did,” you say before swinging away.

~

You were very quickly running out of options for escape. Even with the watch, you couldn’t find an opening to program the watch for home.

As a last resort you latched onto the roof of the high-speed bullet train of Nueva York headed toward the skies, hoping that the force of gravity paired with the speed would at least stall some of the spiders off of your trail.

But before you could realize it, Miguel was very quickly on your tail until finally, he grabbed ahold of you, slamming you down into the roof as you yelped out in pain.

“STOP THIS!” he shouts, straight into your face. He doesn’t even take his mask off as he does, making the whole situation seem even more impersonal. You could only scoff in his face before the hurt overwhelmed you, and you spoke before you could stop yourself.

“Was any of it even real?” you ask softly, tears welling in your eyes as you do. Miguel looks taken back for a moment, eyes widened in surprise as his grasp falters for a second.

“What?” he asks.

“Was any of it real?!” you say louder this time. “Those times when you held me in your arms as I cried, the times when you kissed me in the kitchen as we made dinner together, or when we danced in the living room at night. When you said ‘I love you’ for the first time, was any of it even real?” You say as you feel the anger rise.

“Or was it just some kind of sick way of keeping me under your thumb because I’m the 'original anomaly’, to keep me from going against the canon and your sick agenda that you force everyone else to suffer?” you say, your voice loud now as you struggle harder against his grasp.

“It was real...in the end,” he admits, and you feel your expression drop. You wished that this was all some horrible nightmare, that you would wake up and this would just be in your head and he would hold you like he always did.

But deep down you always knew.

Knew that you loved him more than he did you, that this relationship was built on a lie. But you ignored it for the sake of your fragile heart, and here it is getting shattered all over again by the one person in this life you thought you could trust.

“We’re done, Miguel,” you say, resigned at last.

“Huh?” he says, as though he couldn’t believe your words even after everything you had been through.

“I said we’re done,” you say before you kick him straight in his stomach, launching him off of you so that he has to claw his way back onto the roof.

“Goodbye, Miguel,” you say, before you take a leap backwards, flying through the sky for a few moments until you open up a portal back home.

~

Miguel shouts in frustration as he marches back into the monitoring room, rage radiating off of his form in waves.

In his anger he shoves everything in his path out of the way, talons scratching into the walls as the rest of the Society surrounds him, awaiting his next orders.

Finally, he manages to calm down enough to utter out a single phrase.

“Find her, for the canon…for the multiverse,” Miguel says as guilt creeps in like vines around his heart at his lost love.

Taglist: @beiroviski, @scaraza, @blueoorchid, @remuslupinwifee, @local-mr-frog, @johfaam0, @rawegggohan, @honeycriess, @alexenoirex, @chimpkinnuggies, @rqdior, @banana—belle, @notasadgirlipromise, @6billionyearsold, @gods-perfectidiot, @ieatmunson, @honeii-puff, @wh0re4zaynmalik, @toplinehyunjin, @ohworm-writes, @ishii03, @snowywhiterose

A/N: Could you believe I was going to post fluff today? Crazy how life gets in the way sometimes, but hey, managed to get this fic out lol. Sorry, I know I'm the fluff writer and all but angst just hits sometime :3

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my friends I want to use they/them pronouns for a bad reason?

I (19F) am 100% a cis girl, but never really felt like I was "allowed" to be girly or feminine because of a lot of internal and external sexism and misogyny in my house growing up. No one ever really acknowledged the fact that I was a girl, unless it was in a negative sense. I was also homeschooled, so that made things worse because limited social interaction and stuff.

Now that I'm older and have a lot more connection with people through the internet, I'm a lot more comfortable with my identity and genuinely love being perceived as a girl. I understand the gender euphoria trans people feel when someone uses she/her pronouns for me. I also feel a hint of disappointment when people I don't know use they/them for me online (e.g. "prev knows their stuff").

With context out of the way, what actually happened was a few weeks ago. I went through a depressive episode, which came with the usual feelings of not ever deserving good things in life or happiness of any kind, and that no one cared/should care about me. As part of that, I withdrew from my friends for a couple days, leaving our discord server and blocking all of them (I know I shouldn't have done that, we worked it out). When I finally returned, I told them in vague terms that things were rough, I was a mess, and I wanted to start using they/them. I'm the only cis person in the group of 8 people so no one batted an eye about my request and just went along with it.

Here's where I might be the ah: the only reason I asked that is because I thought I didn't deserve to feel good about myself in any way, including my gender. My friends don't know I was asking them for help in basically punishing myself. I know if they'd known they would never go along with it. I also feel like an ah for using my privilege of being cis and having accepting friends to punish myself when there's real people in the world suffering because people refuse to gender them correctly.

Additional details that might be relevant: my friends are great, we met online about two years ago in a bigger server and grew closer and made our own small server not too long after. They know about my mental health issues and have helped me a lot. Almost everyone I know irl is transphobic and homophobic, so my reference for what is offensive and what isn't is kinda off. I still live with my family and they're by no means bad people. I'm also in the process of finding a therapist.

What are these acronyms?

[stevie-petey]

episode two: the weirdo on maple street

Trying to ease the awkwardness, you hold up a poster and offer it to them, but Steve snatches it from your grasp. “Henderson, didn’t know you were also a little know-it-all. Why don’t you share your review sheet with the rest of us?” He says, casting a teasing look your way. It isn’t until he inspects the piece of paper that he finally notices that it’s a missing poster for a child, not a review sheet. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.” You snatch the poster back from him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

summary: you use your limited psych knowledge to help a bald girl, you force jonathan to accept $20 and he's later an ass to you, steve doesn't know what a "missing" poster looks like, and it's really hard being a single mother to now four kids.

rating: general, but there's cursing as usual and steve being... well, steve - but hes still season 1 steve so give him some time

warnings: cursing, fem!reader, use of y/n, and there's more angst in this chapter with some fighting between reader and jonathan, so fair warning.

words: 10.1k (the longest thing ive ever written)

before you swing in: i'm almost done with chapter 4, so here's a sweet treat as i cram for exams lmao. some housekeeping: should i do a tag list ? i got a few questions about it, so pls let me know soldiers. also, i feel the need to clarify that i adore nancy but for plot reasons - reader and her don't really get along (but they def will later, trust me). season 1 nancy and steve are just so silly. anyways, i hope y'all enjoy this loooong chapter. the rest definitely aren't as lengthy due to plot, but wow. i amazed myself. carry on !

-

Your jeans drip onto the Wheeler’s carpet, and you’ve definitely left a wet imprint on the couch cushion beneath you. The other boys are dripping as well, but all their attention is on the girl in front of them. 

After finding her in the woods, your motherly instincts kicked in, immediately removing your coat to place on her and gently ushering her to your bike and demanding that the boys go back to Mike’s. Your mom is home, so your house was out of the question, and it’s always been easy sneaking into the Wheeler’s, anyways. 

Once you all had made it back, you guided the girl onto the couch and sat next to her. You refuse to let her go too far from you, having no idea where she came from or why, but regardless you know she’s too young for any of it to have been good. 

Which leads you to now: wearily watching the boys stare at the girl as if she’s some science experiment, asking her a million questions a second.

Bless them and their little prepubescent minds. 

Lucas reaches out to touch her, and before you can nudge him away, Mike slaps at his hand. “Stop it! You’re freaking her out!”

“She’s freaking me out!” Lucas retaliates, which honestly? That’s fair. The girl hasn’t said anything yet, even after your multiple attempts to get her to do so. No matter how much you try, you can’t coax a response out of her. 

“I bet she’s deaf.” Your brother offers, suddenly clapping his hands to scare her, making both you and her flinch. “Not deaf…”

You roll your eyes at him. “Guys, she’s probably just really scared right now. We should give her some space,” you look at both Lucas and Dustin, “and time,” now you look at Mike. The three boys deflate a bit. 

“She’s probably cold,” Mike says after a moment of silence, and you nod at his suggestion. Seeing your agreement, he walks over to a basket of clothes and takes out some pajamas.

While Mike is away, thunder rumbles and the girl jumps, unconsciously getting closer to you. You wrap an arm around her reassuringly, making note that she doesn’t like loud noises. If anything, she’s showing more and more signs of trauma response, which makes you uneasy. You remember Hopper saying something about Will being in danger. What are the odds that this little girl was running from something as well?

“Here, these are clean.” Mike’s return breaks you from your thoughts, and you take the clothes from him and stand up. You thank him, then offer your hand to the girl. She looks at you uncertainly. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure her. “Let’s go get you dressed in some warm clothes. I’m right here, sweetheart.” 

“She’s super nice.” Dustin says, trying to help.

Lucas adds, “Yeah, you can trust her.” 

“She’s alright.” Is all Mike offers.

You give them all an appreciative smile, even if Mike is being a bit of an ass, and then you feel a small, cold hand wrap around yours. The girl stands up, looking around shyly, and you lead her to the bathroom. When you go to close the door, she stops you.

Mike has followed, seeing the interaction. “You don’t want it closed?”

Her voice is quiet, solemn. “No,”

You and Mike look at each other, and he voices what you’re thinking. “So you can speak.”

He looks excited about this new information, and you shove his head out of the doorway. She needs to get dressed. “We’ll leave the door cracked, okay?”

She nods at you, and you stand guard outside the door. It’s not that you don’t trust the boys, but Mike has only known her for ten minutes and he’s already been nicer to her than you’ve ever seen him with anyone else. The only other person he’s this soft spoken to is Will, so you’re protective of her. 

You can hear the boys discussing tonight’s events from the living area while the girl gets dressed. They sound scared, and a part of you can’t blame them. While you’re fairly certain that the girl isn’t dangerous, it’s still a creepy situation. Once again, Hopper’s new theory surrounding Will floats through your mind. This all can’t be some coincidence. 

Sighing, you approach the boys and catch a bit of the conversation. 

“Our houses become Alcatraz.” You hear Lucas saying, and you figure they’ve finally pieced together that there’s no way any of you can tell anyone about the girl. None of you were supposed to be out tonight. As much as you know you should tell an adult, you also need to be able to help Jonathan with finding Will. If your mom locks the house down, you’re doomed. 

“Lucas is right,” the boys turn to you. “We can’t go to anyone about this just yet, but I also don’t think it’s a good idea to hide her. She’s been through something terrible, it’s obvious. Tonight, I say she gets some rest. We can figure out what to do later.” 

Mike nods, for once agreeing wholeheartedly with you. “She’ll sleep here tonight-”

Dustin’s eyes widen in horror, “You’re letting a girl-”

You clamp your hand over his mouth, motioning for Mike to continue.

“Thanks, Y/N. In the morning, she sneaks around my house, goes to the front door and rings my doorbell. My mom will answer and know exactly what to do. She’ll send her back to Pennhurst,”

They think she’s from Pennhurst? You think, but don’t verbalize it.

“Or wherever she comes from. We’ll be totally in the clear! And tomorrow night, we go back out, and this time we find Will.”

You gotta hand it to Mike Wheeler, he may be a pain in the ass, but he’s a smart pain in the ass. The plan is pretty sound, so long as he follows through with it. However, it’s him following through with it that leaves you a bit unsure. 

He looks at you for approval, and you hesitantly nod. “It’s a pretty good plan, Wheeler. So long as you stick to it.” 

Lucas and Dustin nod along with you, there’s an unspoken sense of doubt that Mike will actually be able to turn the girl over to his mom. Then she walks out, dressed now in some of Nancy’s old clothes. She draws into herself when you all turn to her, shy. You walk over and offer your hand again, which she accepts. 

“Mike, go find her something to sleep on. Dustin, we gotta go soon before mom notices we’re gone.”

Both boys comply, with Mike searching for a sleeping bag and Dustin packing up his stuff. You crouch down next to the girl, so that you’re face to face, and give her a warm smile. “It was lovely meeting you. My name is Y/N, I hope Mike over there doesn’t give you a hard time tonight.” 

Mike flips you off, having heard you. “If he’s annoying,” you lean in close to her now, whispering in her ear. “You have my permission to pinch him.”

The girl giggles, finally relaxing a bit, and you warm with pride. She’ll be okay, she seems like a very resilient girl and you’ll oddly miss her. 

The two other boys are waiting for you upstairs. You all wish Mrs. Wheeler a good night and head out. Thankfully the rain has now stopped, so the bike ride home isn’t bad. You stop at Lucas’ turn to make sure he gets home safely before finally arriving at your place. As Dustin begins pedaling into your driveway, you don’t follow. 

“I’m going to go see Jonathan, he didn’t answer my calls earlier and I just…”

Dustin waves at you, not even bothering to turn around. “Yeah yeah, go see your boyfriend. If mom asks, you’re asleep.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend-”

“Are you seriously going to argue with me after I offered to cover for you?”

Your brother gives you a pointed look, and you know he’s right. “Touche.” 

Dustin goes to leave, but you quickly grab at his jacket. “Before I forget, swear to me that you’ll keep me updated if anything weird happens, okay?”

He nods at you, knowing better than to argue, and gives you a mock salute as he heads inside. 

The living room light is on when you arrive at the Byers home, despite the late hour, but you aren’t surprised. You knock on the door and wait. When no one comes, you knock again, a bit louder this time. After another few moments, the door swings open. 

Jonathan has a finger over his lips in a shushing manner, motioning to Joyce who is passed out on the couch. You nod, letting him know you understand. The two of you go to his room and when he closes the door, you finally get a good look at him. He looks worse than he did earlier, the bags under his eyes have somehow gotten darker. His hair is a mess, his eyes bloodshot. 

“You’re soaked.” Jonathan says. 

“Yeah,” he doesn’t want to talk about it yet, so you play along. “Got caught in the rain. Are some of my spare clothes still in your bottom drawer?”

He nods at you, going over and grabbing a t-shirt and pajama pants for you. You accept them gratefully and excuse yourself to the bathroom to change. Your bones are cold, the rain seemingly having penetrated the layers of your skin. In the mirror you see that your own eyes are bloodshot; you don’t look much better than Jonathan, really.

When you return Jonathan is sitting on his bed, so you join him. It’s silent between you, all you can hear is his breathing. You stare straight ahead, so does he, and you wait. You’ve only seen Jonathan like this a handful of times, where the stress and anxiety becomes too much for him. He shuts down, draws into himself, and all you can do is wait for him to return to you; he always does. 

“Mom got a call tonight.” Jonathan’s voice is hoarse, and he looks frail. You wonder if he ever did end up making the spaghetti you prepared for him.

“Who was it?”

He swallows heavily, taking a moment to respond. “She said it was Will.”

“Will?” You look at him now, searching for any signs on his face, his voice lacks emotion. By the way he stares blankly ahead, as if he’s not really present with you right now, you know that it hadn’t been Will on the other end. 

“She started freaking out, going ballistic,” his voice cracks a bit, so you take a chance and reach for his hand. He lets you take it, giving you a squeeze, before continuing. “She was screaming, begging whoever it was to give Will back.” 

Jonathan pauses again. You don’t say anything, because no words will help. He’s never been the type for comforting words, anyways. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “It wasn’t him. Lightning struck and our phone got charred. It wasn’t Will.”

Now it’s your turn to squeeze Jonathan’s hand. He doesn’t deserve any of this. None of the Byers do. Out of the entire town, they’re the family who deserves the most that life can give. Will, too good. Jonathan, too selfless. Joyce, too loving. They’re the best damn people you know. 

“I tried calming her down, but she was hysterical. She’s only asleep right now because she worked herself up too much and passed out. I’m worried she-'' Jonathan shakes his head, as if ashamed by his own words. “I’m worried she’s going crazy, Y/N.”

He’s quiet again, but you can tell he’s about to break. His knee is now bouncing up and down and his breathing has become slightly ragged. Everything from today has been building up, it was only a matter of time before he snapped. You’re also worried about Joyce, a part of you skeptical to believe her, but the little girl you found tonight in the rain? Something was definitely weird about Will’s disappearance, but you’re hesitant to tell Jonathan just yet. For all you know, she could’ve simply been a girl who got lost and will be returned to her family tomorrow. 

You don’t want to worry Jonathan any more than you need to.

“I should’ve been there for him. I shouldn’t have taken that shift.” He gasps out, and like a dam the tears begin to fall. You’re quick to pull him into a hug and he crumbles into you. His body shakes with violent sobs and he clutches at you as if afraid you’ll leave.

“You can’t blame yourself.” You whisper, stroking a hand through his hair. He cries even harder, the force of it almost enough to knock you over, so you situate yourself so that you’re fully on the bed, laying against his pillows, with Jonathan crying into your chest beside you. 

“He’s g-gone.”

“We’ll find him, I promise.” Your own tears threaten to come out, but you force them down. You have to be here for him, he needs you. The only other time Jonathan has so openly cried was when Lonnie left years ago. He’s been holding everything in since then, all those years of looking after his family, taking care of his brother, getting harassed by assholes like Tommy Hagan. 

Neither of you say anything else, and you know that Jonathan needs to let it all out. You soothe him as best as you can, running a hand through his hair, stroking his back, reassuring him over and over again that none of this is his fault until your own voice becomes hoarse. You don’t know how long you stay like this, but sometime during the night Jonathan finally falls asleep, and you follow shortly after him. 

— 

Sunlight streams through Jonathan’s spare bed sheet that he’s pinned over his window, serving as a makeshift curtain, waking you up. You stretch, careful not to wake the boy beside you, and crawl out of the bed. You’re antsy, already knowing that today will be another long day. After grabbing some clothes from your designated drawer and getting dressed, you head into the kitchen and start making a quick breakfast. Just as you’re finishing up, Jonathan comes out of his room, dressed and ready for the day.

Neither of you say anything about the night prior, instead silently working around each other in the kitchen with years of practiced ease. He hands you the salt shaker right when you need it, you grab the pieces of toast that he popped into the toaster, the two of you never once get in each other’s way. You get deja vu, remembering all the times you’ve slept over with Dustin, you and Jonathan making the boys breakfast while they slept in. 

The only indication that last night really happened is a forehead kiss from Jonathan, his lips soft against your head. Out of the two of you, you’re definitely the touchy one, so it’s always a nice surprise when he initiates the touch, and his forehead kisses were a welcome rarity. 

When the plates have been made, Joyce gets up from the couch and stumbles over to the table. You quickly help her sit down, and for the first time since Will’s disappearance you’re able to really look at her. She looks like Jonathan, only worse. The bags under her eyes are darker, her hair is more matted, and you believe she’s still wearing the same shirt you saw her in the night that Will went missing. 

“All right, mom. Breakfast is ready.” Jonathan tries to place her plate on the table, but Joyce stops him, worried about the poster of Will. 

Jonathan gives you a look and you run over to the table, grabbing the poster so that he can set the plate down. 

Joyce gives you a tired smile, “Thank you, Y/N, but I can’t eat.”

“I just need you to eat, mom.” 

“Jonathan’s right, Mrs. Byers. You need to eat, we gotta keep your strength up.” You feel like you’re talking to a child, but in a way, you suppose you are. 

The woman lights a cigarette instead, and faintly you wonder how many she’s had within the last 48 hours; you’ll need to wash your clothes when you get home. She begins to ask Jonathan to go to Xerox to make as many copies of Will’s poster as possible. You sit down in front of her, silently eating, knowing there’s no place for you in this conversation. 

It’s not that the Byers are ashamed that they have little money, but you know it’s rude to listen in. They make do with what they have, and Jonathan has never felt embarrassed with you knowing it. 

“I don’t want you to go alone,” Joyce says, causing you to speak up. 

“I’ll go with him and help hang them up, it’s no problem.” 

Jonathan turns to you. “You have that chem test, remember? I’m not letting you miss that.” 

“Shit…” you bury your face into your hands. You completely forgot about that after finding the little girl last night and dealing with Jonathan. You’ve heard about how impossible the chem exams were, and science has never been your best subject. That was Dustin’s thing, your thing was more humanities. 

“You’re the smartest person I know, you’ll ace the exam,” Jonathan reassures you before turning to his mom. “And I’ll handle the posters, it’s okay.” 

Joyce has been lost in thought during your conversation with her son, only beginning to speak again when she’s asked how many copies will be efficient. Once she starts speaking again, it’s almost like she’s physically unable to stop. She begins to ramble, finally exposing the crumbling woman that you’ve only heard about, now understanding Jonathan’s fears for her. 

“Mom-”

“If we… ten cents-”

“Mom!” Jonathan raises his voice a bit, now grabbing at his mother’s hand. “You can’t get like this, okay?”

The look on Joyce’s face kills you. She looks so lost, ashamed of her behavior, and you cast your head down; this is a private matter. Joyce profusely apologizes to him and all Jonathan can do is gently reassure her that it’s okay. All of this is okay. 

Their tender moment is interrupted by knocking on the front door, revealing Hopper on the other side. His presence makes you uneasy, so you stay in the kitchen and begin to clean up with Jonathan while Joyce attacks him with questions. 

“A little bit of trust here, alright? We’ve been searching all night.” You hear the cop say. Your hand clenches the sponge, rubbing a bit harder at the plate you’re cleaning. If they’ve been searching all night, why are they here now?

“Went all the way to Cartersville.” Ever since Will disappeared, you’ve been building a wall of hope within you that he’ll be found safe and sound. However, with every passing day, with every new situation that occurs, you can feel a piece of the wall collapse. You can feel it now; the search party went all the way to Cartersville.

“And?” Joyce asks. 

“Nothing.” The cry that Joyce lets out causes you to drop the plate you’ve been cleaning, shattering on the floor. You curse, immediately bending down to pick up the pieces. Luckily it didn’t shatter into a million bits, but you still feel horrible for breaking one of their dishes. 

Jonathan bends down as well to help, and the commotion catches Hopper’s attention. He sees you scrambling to clean up the mess and sighs with annoyance. “Does she live here or something?” 

You and Jonathan look at each other, a slight smile on your faces, and only respond to Hopper with a synchronized shrug. You basically do live at the Byers’ at this point, you have been for years now. It was the same for Jonathan: if you weren’t at his house, he was at yours. 

Joyce wipes some of her tears away. “Y/N is family, she’s here to help.” 

Hopper ignores this, instead bringing up the phone call from the night before. Joyce leads him over to the phone, and you join them once you’ve collected the remaining pieces of broken glass. When you see the phone, you can’t help but gasp. Jonathan’s words from last night are accurate, the phone is charred. 

“Storm barbecued this pretty good.” Hopper says.

Joyce waves her arms out, disbelieving. “The storm? You’re saying that that’s not… weird?”

“No, it’s weird.” Hopper begins, but you cut him off. 

“It’s really weird.”

He glares at you. You mumble a quick sorry and back away a bit while Jonathan asks if the call can be traced. Hopper focuses back on the situation at hand, informing him that it isn’t possible and then questions if Joyce even heard Will in the first place. The question makes you cringe, knowing it’ll only make Joyce more agitated and hurt.

“Flo said you just heard some breathing.” 

It’s the way he phrases the question, the way he emphasizes the word “just”, that bothers you. This woman has just lost her kid, what kind of mother wouldn’t know her own child’s breathing?

“Even if it was ‘just’ some breathing, I’d know it was my brother. Will is her son, she’d know better than anyone.” You find yourself saying. The words weren’t meant to leave your mouth, but the appreciative look Joyce casts your way outweighs the fear from Hopper’s glare. 

“It was him. It was Will, and he was scared. Then something-”

“It was probably just a prank call,” Hopper tries to reason with her, causing you to roll your eyes at him. You respect the guy, you do, but could he at least attempt to listen to Joyce?

You excuse yourself before you say anything else, heading back into the kitchen to collect the two posters you and Jonathan made. While the others talk, you grab his things and pack his bag for him. You know he’ll probably skip school today to get the copies done in time, maybe keep an eye on his mom, so you make a mental note to inform him later that you’ll help with putting the fliers up the second you’re done with the exam. He needs someone there for him. 

When you’ve grabbed the last of Jonathan’s things, Lonnie’s name is mentioned. You freeze, standing right outside the hall from them, only a wall between you. If Lonnie is somehow involved in this, you’ll kill him yourself. He was always cruel to Will, even when you were around to witness it. You hate him more than anything in this damn world. 

“It’s been long enough, I’m having him checked out.” Hopper declares, storming out of the house. 

You count to three in your head, and the second you get to three, Jonathan is following after Hopper. You knew he would, hating his father the most out of everyone who has had the displeasure of meeting him. You follow behind him, heading outside to talk to the Chief. 

“Hey, Hopper. Let me go.” 

Hopper takes a drag from his cigarette, facing the two of you. “I’m sorry?”

“To Lonnie’s,” Jonathan says, looking at you for backup.

You do your best to try. “If Will’s there, that means he probably ran away. Cops will scare the poor boy, he’ll think he’s in trouble.”

“And he’ll hide. He’s good at hiding.” Jonathan finishes for you. 

Hopper stares at you both, inhaling more smoke from his cigarette and blowing it in your direction with a curious look in his eyes. “You two are sickening to be near, you know that?”

You and Jonathan share an annoyed look. A kid is missing, and you still have to clarify that you aren’t together? “It’s not like that,” Jonathan says.

“Sure, you know cops are good at detecting lies,” Hopper approaches him now, grabbing his shoulders. For a brief second you’re afraid he’ll hurt him. “And we’re also good at finding, okay? Stay here with your mom. She needs you.” 

Hopper punches at Jonathan’s shoulder before facing you. “And you,” you brace for whatever he’s about to say, knowing you probably aren’t his favorite person at the moment. He points at Jonathan, “He needs you.”

His words hang in the air several minutes after he’s gone. You glance at Jonathan, but he doesn’t meet your eye and instead he goes back inside. You sigh, following after him because it’s what you do. Hopper’s right, he needs you. 

Jonathan’s in the living room, speaking softly to his mom when you enter. You don’t disturb them but rather snatch Jonathan’s keys from the counter and wait for him by the door. Like Joyce said, Xerox opens in about thirty minutes and you have a chem exam to take. If you leave now, you’ll be able to make the copies with him and be back in time before school.

The ride to Xerox is tense, you know Jonathan is upset that he’s been sidelined by Hopper. You also know that he’s torn between wanting to help his mom and staying out of his house as much as possible. If it weren’t for your god damn chem test you’d offer to skip and hide out at your place, but you can’t. Jonathan wouldn’t let you risk your future for him (even though you would, in a heartbeat, a million times over). 

The man at Xerox gives Jonathan a look of pity, clearly recognizing Will’s picture on the poster. It’s your favorite photo of him, smiling with all his teeth and happy as can be. From what you’ve heard, the whole town has been conducting search parties for him. Jonathan ignores the look and asks for the 200 copies to be made. 

It’s just you and him in the store as you wait for the prints to be done. The guy said it’d be about a ten minute wait so you wander around the store. Jonathan clearly is in a no talking mood, so you occupy yourself with whatever you find. You wish you’d brought your backpack to Jonathan’s last night so you could at least study a bit while waiting, but you didn’t. It’d be a miracle if you pass this exam. 

Jonathan wanders around as well, so you give a quick look around and find the employee. He’s standing over the printer when you approach. “I’d like to pay for the copies, please.”

“You can pay after they’re done-”

“No, I can’t let him see,” you point over to Jonathan, who is now looking at some stationary. “Please, just let me pay now so he can yell at me later.” 

The guy gives you a shrug, clearly not getting paid enough to care. “Okay, it’ll be $20. Just leave the money on the counter over there, the prints should be done soon.” 

You nod and do as you’re told, leaving the $20 bill on the counter while Jonathan isn’t looking. He can kill you later, right now you want to make up for not being able to help with hanging them up. There’s literally hundreds to get through, he can’t do that all alone. 

When the posters are done and Jonathan collects them, you wish the worker a good day and then wrap your arms around him and use all your strength to drag your friend into the car. He doesn't fight back at first, too confused by your actions, and you’re almost out the door before he sees the man pocket the money and wave at you. The dots connect in his head and Jonathan begins to fight against you. 

“Y/N, let me pay-”

“Nope. Not happening!”

“We both know I’m stronger-”

“Debatable, honestly, seeing as how we’re almost to your car.”

“Let go!” He tugs harshly as his arm, which you’ve got a secure hold on, causing you to stumble a bit. 

You plant your feet more firmly against the ground and use all your weight to pull the boy forward. You’re a few feet away from the car, just one more solid pull should do the trick. “Stop fighting this, Byers. I’ve already paid-”

“Which you shouldn’t have!”

“Keep fighting and drop all the posters, I dare you.”

Jonathan looks down at the posters in his spare hand, realizing that you’re right. If he doesn’t give in soon, they’ll topple over. He lets out an agitated groan, throwing his head back, and then marches over to the car to unlock it and fling himself into the driver’s seat. “Just get in.” 

You do a small victory dance and hop in the car.

“I hate you.” 

“You love me.” 

He hesitates only for a moment. “God, I hate that I do.” 

You smile, buckling your seatbelt. Jonathan pulls out of the parking lot and begins the drive to school. He’s less tense this time, at least. The small little wrestling match between the two of you seemingly did some good, then. 

When you pull up to school, you once again apologize to Jonathan for being unable to help. He waves you off, understanding. 

“It’s okay, I promise. I can’t have you failing out of high school because of me.”

You roll your eyes. “One test won’t make me become a high school dropout, Jonathan.”

He ruffles your hair, which you slap him for. “You can join me after, okay? Good luck, bug.” 

“Fine, but I’m taking some posters with me so I can hang up on my way to my locker.” 

“Deal.”

You run to your locker, flinging it open and letting out a sigh of relief when you spot your chem cards. Honestly, you really should’ve prepared better for your little sleepover at the Byers. You glance at the watch on your wrist, noting that you have roughly fifteen minutes to memorize all the elements in the periodic table as well as some chemistry definitions. 

Just peachy. 

You tie your hair up so you can focus better and grab the note cards. If you review the cards as you walk to class, you can save at least three minutes of studying time. You tuck the few remaining posters of Will under your arm and begin to head to your class, getting absorbed in all the elements and words. As you’re skimming a card about protein being K, you run into Nancy and Barb, who also seem to have the same idea as you.

“Oh, hey Y/N.” Nancy greets you, Barb waving to you as well. 

They’re being nice, so you try to make conversation. “Studying for Kaminsky’s test?”

They nod at you and Nancy sighs, “Yeah, his exams are the worst.”

You laugh a bit, for once on the same page as her. “I know. I spent last night at Jonathan’s, I completely forgot about the test until this morning. I’m screwed.”

Barb raises her eyebrows at you while Nancy suddenly looks sad. “Oh, I’m sorry about Will. I know you and him are close.” 

“Yeah, it must be hard taking care of Jonathan right now.” Barb voices. 

You give them both an awkward smile. “Thanks, I guess? It’s just, there’s still hope, so…” 

The three of you stand there as your voice trails off. It’s painfully awkward. While you’ve known Nancy since you were 12, and at some point you even called her a close friend of yours, the second you entered high school she became distant. You never blamed her for it, people simply grow up and grow apart. Now you only ever interact with her if it concerns the boys. 

Trying to ease the awkwardness, you hold up a poster and offer it to them, but Steve snatches it from your grasp.

“Henderson, didn’t know you were also a little know-it-all. Why don’t you share your cheat sheet with the rest of us?” He says, casting a teasing look your way. It isn’t until he inspects the piece of paper that he finally notices that it’s a missing poster for a child, not a review sheet. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.”

You snatch the poster back from him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

His friends laugh, but Steve has a bit of heart to look guilty, so you count that as something. His shame doesn’t last long though and the goofy and sweet boy who made sure you were okay after almost hitting you with his car is gone. 

Steve plays off the situation as if it were nothing. “Let me make it up to you, Henderson. I know you’re probably stressed out of your mind dealing with boyfriend troubles because of Bill-”

“His name is Will,” you grit out, remembering now why you dislike Steve so much. Everything was about impressing his friends, and while you can sympathize with him, it doesn’t give him an excuse to be an asshole. 

“Right, Will. Anyways, I was just about to inform Nance over here that my dad has left town on a conference and my mom’s gone with him, ‘cause, ya know, she doesn’t trust him.” 

“Good call,” Tommy says, and you glare at him. 

Steve carries on. “So, are you guys in?”

“In for what?” Nancy asks. 

“No parents, a big house?” Carol says, as if Nancy is a giant idiot.

You feel bad for her being treated so poorly by her boyfriend’s friends, so you lean in and whisper, “A party, Nancy.” Then you look at Steve. “And no, I’ll pass.” 

Steve pouts. “Can’t leave loverboy alone for a couple hours?”

You scoff, shoving the poster against his chest, using more force than probably necessary, but the satisfying grunt he lets out pleases you. “If I didn’t know you I’d say you sound jealous. Unfortunately, I do know you, and that’s exactly why I’m not interested.”

“Meow,” says Carol as she and Tommy laugh. 

You ignore her and push past the group to get to class. You’ve wasted enough time, you have to study. Steve lets you, hurt by your words, but tries to play it off, instead focusing his attention on Jonathan up ahead hanging up some posters. You both see him at the same time and as you start to approach him, you hear Steve and his group mock him. 

“God, that’s depressing.” Steve says, and you’ve never wanted to hit a man more than you do right now. 

You glance at Nancy, trying to convey your disappointment in her. She’s a nice girl, she shouldn’t be with an idiot like Harrington. Who the hell makes fun of a guy with a missing brother? Nancy doesn’t meet your eye, which pleases you. She should feel guilty. 

As you near Jonathan, Nancy calls after you to wait up. You listen, mostly because you’re surprised she even followed, and together you walk up to him. “Hey, bee. I thought you’d be long gone by now.” 

Jonathan looks up at your voice, surprised when he sees Nancy next to you. He gives you a look that you conclude is a what is she doing here? look and you can only shrug as if to say I have no clue how I ended up in this situation. 

Nancy doesn’t see this exchange. “Hey,”

“Hey,” Jonathan responds, still confused. 

Nancy looks at you uncertainly, but you refuse to leave. Screw your exam, if she even considers voicing her boyfriend’s opinions to Jonathan then you’ll personally see that she fails alongside you. “I just… I wanted to say, you know… I’m sorry, about everything.” 

Oh, she’s being nice. You’re still unimpressed, but Jonathan motions to you to stop staring her down, so you reluctantly listen. 

“Everyone’s thinking about you.”

You all turn towards Steve and his group, who are clearly listening in, and you snort at her words. “Right, obviously.” 

“Y/N.” Jonathan warns. 

“Sorry.” 

“It sucks.” Nancy continues, and you have to give her some credit. You’re being a blatant bitch, but she’s still trying. You feel a bit bad now, which honestly makes you dislike her a bit more. Damn morals. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, he’s a smart kid.” 

The bell rings, ending Nancy’s little monologue. “I have to go, chemistry test. Y/N, want to walk together?” 

She really makes it impossible to be a bitch to her. “Sure, just give me a second.”

You lean close to Jonathan and lower your voice. “Good luck with your dad, bee.” 

“How did you know I’d go-”

“Because of course you would. Now go, give him hell for me, will ya?”

Jonathan nods, relieved you aren’t pushing the topic. You know that Lonnie is a sore topic for him, for the entire Byers family, really. You only knew Lonnie for a year or so before Joyce left him, but you’ll never forget his spiteful words and the bruises that Jonathan tried to hide from you. He needs to do this alone, father and son. 

You see Nancy watching, and just to spite her you kiss Jonathan’s cheek, relishing in the fact that she looks away, and you wish him luck once again before following her to class. 

The test isn’t as bad as you’d feared, and the rest of the day goes by with relative ease. You don’t see much of Steve and his group and you’re thankful for that. Nancy also keeps her distance, no longer attempting to be all buddy buddy with you. A part of you feels bad about that, because honestly the thought of someone thinking you hate them makes you feel physically ill, but as long as Nancy is with someone like Steve, there’s not much you can do about that. 

After school you stop by all of Jonathan’s classes and collect the work he’s missed over the last few days; he has enough to worry about, so you figured you could help do some assignments for him. It’s nothing unusual, truth to be told. There was a time you were out for two weeks straight due to the flu one year and Jonathan did every one of your assignments, so it’s about time you returned the favor. 

Once you have what you need, you hang up the remaining flyers in your bag and begin your journey to work. You’ve used up all of your sick days helping the Byers, and while Mrs. Waters has insisted on letting you have more time off, you figured the distraction would be good for you. Jonathan will want some space after confronting his dad, and as much as you hated Lonnie, something told you he had nothing to do with Will. 

Just when your shift is almost done, your coworker, this young kid named Alex who you’re honestly surprised can legally work, informs you that your mom is on the phone and wants to speak with you. You stack the remaining books in your hands and thank him, walking over to pick up the call.

“Hey, mom. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, sweetie! I was just calling to tell ya that Dusty is at the Wheeler’s tonight for dinner, so my plan for ribs won’t work without him. I was wondering if darling Johnny could feed you tonight? I know the two of you have that little sneaky food game.” 

Your posture, once slumped over and uninterested, now straightens out. Why the hell is Dustin having dinner at the Wheeler’s? They never do that. “Uh, sure mom that won’t be an issue.”

Your mom lets out a sigh of relief. “Bless that Jonathan! I’ve always liked him…”

Your mom may be the biggest Jonathan supporter you’ve ever met. “Yeah, he’s your favorite. I know,” you shift a bit to catch Alex’s attention, mouthing to him that you need to leave work early. “Hey, did Dustin by chance say how long he’ll be at the Wheeler’s? I can swing by and pick him up after my shift.” 

“Oh, I think he’s staying the night there. He mentioned something about Mike not finishing his part of their little science project?”

They’re calling the little girl a science project now? Boys are so typical. “Oh, I see. Well, I gotta get back to work, mom. I’ll be home late tonight.”

Your mom wishes you goodbye and warns you not to be out too late. You hum, already trying to figure out the quickest route to the Wheeler’s house. You can’t say you’re surprised that Mike didn’t follow the plan, but you also can’t say you were prepared for this either. 

Alex comes back with your boss and you quickly make up a lie about not feeling well. Mrs. Waters gives you a pitying look and tells you to go. You’re incredibly grateful for her, she’s like a grandmother to you and has always been so kind. 

You quickly bike to Mike’s house, going over a grand speech in your head for the boys. Logistically speaking, you’re not sure if they can even harbor the little girl in his basement. Would it be kidnapping? Could kids even kidnap other kids? You aren’t sure and you definitely aren’t willing to find out. 

You arrive at the house just as Nancy and Barb are pulling out of the driveway, presumably to Steve’s grand house party. They wave at you awkwardly and you don’t have it in you to wave back. You park your bike next to their doorstep and knock on the door. 

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Mrs. Wheeler asks after opening the door. 

“Oh, I was just wondering if I could hang out with the boys tonight? Jonathan’s busy and I promised Dustin I’d help with their campaign.”

Mrs. Wheeler cocks her head at you. “But I thought there was a special assembly at the school for Will? Nancy and Barb just left for it.” 

You feel your blood boil a bit. There was no assembly for Will at your school, and it was really damn low of Nancy to use his disappearance as a cover story for her stupid party. She’s known Will since he was practically a baby. You have no idea how someone could be so unaffected by a missing child, let alone one who has been at your house every damn weekend for years now. 

“Oh, that!” You force yourself to remain calm; there isn’t time to snitch on Nancy, Mrs. Wheeler would only have more questions for you. “Yeah, I’m, uh, skipping it. Jonathan doesn’t want to go, so after he’s back from his errands I’m heading over to his place to, you know, comfort him?” 

The woman stares at you for a second, trying to determine if there are any lies to your words. You’ve never been the best liar, but being the oldest Henderson child has unfortunately prepared you for being quick on your feet when needed. 

“Well, come on then. They boys just went downstairs, and if you can please remind them to bring the plate of food back up here I’d really appreciate it.”

You thank Mrs. Wheeler and let yourself in. Her words have all but solidified your suspicions: Mike kept the girl. 

When you descend the basement steps, it’s almost comical how the kids scramble to hide the girl like little cockroaches. They run around and Dustin screams something about covering her before the poor girl is being manhandled into a sheet as Mike screams at Lucas and Dustin to calm down. 

“Guys! It’s just me! Jesus!” You shout, shoving past Mike to rush over to the girl and free her from the sheets. She looks more frightened than usual, but at least she’s alive. 

“God, why am I always the one you push?”

You shush Mike, smoothing back the girl’s hair and offering her a reassuring smile. “Remember me, sweetheart?”

The girl nods and softly says, “Y/N.”

“Very good. I’m going to scream at my brother real quick, so why don’t you cover your ears for me so you don’t get too frightened?” 

“Wait, what-”

The minute her ears are covered, you turn to Dustin and begin screaming. “Are you brain dead and not understand the words ‘tell me if anything weird happens’ or do you simply lack the appropriate empathy needed for a concerned sister?”

Dustin ducks his head in shame. “Y/N, look-”

“No! I’m all for helping you guys with your adventures and whatever, but Will went missing and then she appears and Mike,” you turn to him and he hides behind a frightened Lucas. “You said you’d stick to your plan. Now tell me, did you?”

Mike shakes his head, his eyes wide. Dustin looks no better as he cowers behind the others. Lucas simply shrugs, knowing that this would happen. You never, ever, yell at the boys; the few times you have in the past, all hell had broken loose. 

“Y/N-”

“Zip it, Henderson. I’m so pissed off at you right now and if you want to make it to thirteen I suggest you keep quiet.” 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now, why don’t you guys catch me up on what you’ve so sweetly kept hidden from me.” It’s worded as a question, but the boys know better than to deny you. 

You sit on the ground so that you’re next to the girl and then motion for the three boys in front of you to start speaking. They look at Mike, giving him a nudge, and he hesitantly steps forward to begin speaking. “Her name is El.”

The girl, El, looks up at you and smiles. You return the smile and knock your shoulder against hers in a playful manner. “Nice to meet you, can I ask what El is short for?”

“Eleven,” she says, and you want to question the name further but the look on Mike’s face stops you. Now is not the time, you guess. 

“El, she’s… different.” Mike continues, looking around nervously. He’s acting as if someone could break in any second and snipe you guys, and a part of you doesn’t doubt it can happen. “She has these powers, like, mind control powers.”

You snort, unable to stop yourself. El looks at you, looking unoffended, seemingly expecting this reaction. However, Mike groans at you. “Y/N, this is serious. She-she knows about Will.”

At this, your smile fades and you feel an overwhelming sense of hope take over you. You find your arms wrapping around El before you can control yourself and you give her a tight hug. She stiffens in your arms and you immediately pull away. “I’m sorry, I just… sorry.”

She laughs a bit, softly saying that it’s okay. 

“Do you really know Will? Where he is?” You ask, almost too scared to say the words out loud. If she’s telling the truth… you shake your head in an attempt to dispel any false hope. You don’t know this girl, she could be lying. 

Before El can say anything else, Mike speaks for her. “She does, but there’s bad men out there who want to hurt her. I think they’re after Will, too.” 

You freeze. “Bad men?”

“Yes, this is why we didn’t want to tell you!”

“I wanted to tell her,” Lucas says, which causes Mike to glare at him.

You wave your arms at the two boys, breaking up their fight. “Mike, what do you mean by bad men? Honey,” you look at El, “did someone hurt you? Are you in danger? Should I call the police?”

“No!” All three boys shout at once. 

You look at them, at the genuine fear in their eyes, and sigh, “Okay, if you can give me a good reason not to call the cops, I won’t.”

“Did you not hear the part about El having powers?” Dustin asks. 

“Gee, Dustin. You’re right! It’s like her having powers is totally believable and reassuring to the situation at hand!”

“I can show you,” El speaks up. 

You all face her now. “You can?” 

She nods at you, getting up and grabbing your backpack that you threw on the ground when you walked in. She rustles through it while you and the boys look at one another. After a few seconds, El grabs one of your comic books and places it on the table. She looks at you and tilts her head, indicating for you to sit down next to her; you do as you’re told.

El straightens out your comic and then closes her eyes, going completely still. The air around you shifts and you can practically feel the static electricity encasing you; the hair on your arms stand up. The pages of the comic begin to flick up, fluttering as if someone is thumbing through them in rapid succession. You watch as the Spidey panels flash before your eyes, the pages flying faster and faster until it becomes almost frightening to be near. Then, once it gets to its last page, the comic flies up into the air and hovers for a few seconds, right in front of your face. 

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, your eyes wide. 

Just as quickly as it began, the comic drops back onto the table. You look up at El and see that her nose is now bleeding, which rips you back to reality. The chair scrapes against the ground as you get up to help her, dabbing at the blood with a tissue that had been laying on the table. 

“Do you believe us now?” Mike asks, a smug look on his face. 

You gently wipe away the remaining blood from El’s face, looking her in the eye and directing your words to her. “I’m listening, sweetheart. What can you do to help us find Will?” 

El smiles, pleased to have earned your trust, and you get the feeling that this little girl is the most powerful thing in all of Hawkins, maybe even the world. At her request, Mike places his DnD board on the table and arranges the pieces for El to use. She sits down and closes her eyes once more.

Lucas gives you a doubtful look. “What’s the weirdo doing?”

You flick his head, not enjoying the name calling. Honestly, you thought you raised these boys better than that. 

El seems to accomplish whatever she was doing and picks up the wizard piece, murmuring, “Will.” 

You feel your heart stop. Will always insisted on being the wizard whenever they played the game. He was Will the Wise, forever and always. El couldn’t have simply guessed that, and you know it’s her-

“Superpowers,” Dustin finishes your thought for you. The two of you exchange a glance and you notice the slight glee in his eyes. Under different circumstances, you’d also find this all pretty cool. 

Mike sits next to El and begins to ask some questions about where she last saw Will. She gives him a look that you can’t quite decipher before swiping her arm across the table and spilling the pieces onto the floor. She then flips the board over, having it now face upside down, and places Will’s piece back down. 

You knit your brows together, trying to follow along. El’s movements are methodical and carefully planned, being unable to find the right words due to her poor speech, and you try to piece together the information you’ve been given. 

“I don’t understand,” Mike says, being extra gentle with El. You’ve never seen him so soft spoken before and you’re grateful at least one of the boys doesn’t view her as some monster. Which reminds you that you need to have a conversation with Dustin about respecting women, but for now you’ll hold off.

“Hiding.” says El. 

He’s good at hiding, Jonathan’s words echo in your head. 

“Will is hiding?” 

El nods, now looking more nervous. You can tell that Mike is getting closer to information that she doesn’t want him near, which finally causes you to ask the question that’s been heavily on your mind. “From the bad men?”

Now El gives a slight shake of the head, and Mike presses on. “Then from who?”

Without saying anything, El places a second piece onto the board right in front of Will’s. It’s a piece you’re unfamiliar with, with two snake-like heads that loom over the small wizard piece. Whatever it is, you know it isn’t good judging the way Mike, Dustin, and Lucas look at each other in fear.

You turn to Dustin and whisper, “What’s that piece?”

Your brother puts his hands behind his head and sighs deeply, a new resigned look on his face. He looks as if he’s just aged thirty years, which you find a bit dramatic. “It’s the Demogorgon.”

“The Demo-what?” The name sounds familiar, but you can’t remember anything about it.

Mike looks at you and for once his voice holds no annoyance when he says, “There’s a lot we still have to catch you up on.”

– 

Your head is spinning as you bike to Jonathan’s with all the new information you’ve just received. Demogorgons, magical vortexes, kids with damn superpowers. It’s all a lot for you to take in, and while you fully believe that El is something entirely different from a normal little girl, how can you be sure that it’s connected to Will? While his disappearance still confuses you, it’s illogical to jump to supernatural conclusions. 

Dustin had begged you to let him spend the night at Mikes in order to keep talking to El, and you only agreed because you figured you’d be at Jonathan’s again tonight anyways. He’s been MIA all day and you’re worried as usual, but you made him and Mike swear to you that they’d stay put in the house. At least this way they’re in one place, so if they screw around they’ll be easier to find. 

When you arrive at the Byers home you notice that Jonathan’s car isn’t in the driveway, which only confuses you further. Where the hell is he? You gave him all day to deal with Lonnie and cool off, trusting that he wouldn’t do anything stupid for twelve hours, and yet… 

You fear he’s done something stupid. 

You don’t have time to think too much about Jonathan’s absence because a frantic Joyce runs out the door screaming. She runs straight past you and into her car, and the house begins to light up like a christmas tree. You can hear The Clash’s Should I Stay or Should I Go, a song that Will once had on repeat for three weeks straight, and you can feel the same static electricity in the air that you felt when El used her powers in front of you. 

Joyce suddenly gets out of the car and spots you, pointing towards her house. “You see that too?”

You swallow. “Yeah,”

She nods, as if your confirmation is all she needs to determine her sanity, and then marches inside. You stand in the yard, motionless. You’re terrified, and after learning about El tonight, you don’t have it in you to discover any other supernatural beings in Hawkins at the moment. Sighing, you follow after the woman because Jonathan isn’t home and someone needs to talk her down from whatever panic attack the flashing lights have inevitably caused. 

“Mrs. Byers-” 

“Y/N, you can’t tell me there isn’t something,” Joyce waves her hands in front of her face, almost grasping at the air, “weird about all of this. That was Will’s song, the lights were flashing in Will’s room, something came out of Will’s wall-”

“Something came out of his wall?”

“Yes! I’m not… I promise I’m not crazy, okay? You saw it, please tell me you saw it.”

You bite your lip, now thinking about El. You swore to Mike you wouldn’t tell anyone about her, and honestly you’re not sure that you should tell Joyce about her right now. You’re still unsure if El is being honest with you, and you can’t just give the woman false hope for her son. It’d kill you if you were wrong about El. But seeing the lights, hearing the music, the thing in the wall… There’s something that she’s not telling you. 

“Mrs. Byers… I’m not quite sure what I saw, but we just had a bad storm and it could be faulty wiring.” 

Joyce slumps her shoulders, frustrated that you aren’t conspiring with her. You just… you can’t. Not yet. Not before you figure out what the hell El is doing in Hawkins. You refuse to worsen Joyce’s already chronic anxiety and paranoia; Jonathan would never forgive you if you fed into her delusions, but it kills you to lie to her. 

“Look, I do think that something is weird about this entire situation, “ Joyce’s face lights up, but you’re quick to add, “however, there’s no proof. You, I mean-Mrs. Byers, you’ve seen things in the past. You’re stressed, and anxious, and all the other synonyms.” 

The woman lets a few tears drop from her eyes, now embarrassed. “Maybe you’re right. I-I’m sorry, honey. I just-”

You grab her hand. “I know,”

Her smile is brittle, a ghost of the once beautiful smile she’d give you, and your heart breaks for her. 

After your conversation, Joyce excuses herself to her room. She looks even more exhausted than before, so you leave her alone and hole yourself up in Jonthan’s room. 

You glance at your watch and note the late hour; you’re starting to worry now. Jonathan didn’t mention anything besides Lonnie and the posters, so you don’t know what else he could be doing so late. He wouldn’t go searching for Will without you. 

You wake up to Jonathan returning an hour or so later, apparently having fallen asleep while waiting for him. 

“Y/N?” His voice is gruff and surprised. 

You groan and rub your eyes. “Turn the light off, bee.”

He doesn’t. “What are you doing here?”

The tone of his voice wakes you up a bit, making you sit up and look at him more clearly. His shoulders are tense, his eyes are hiding something, and his overall demeanor is hard to read. “I had something to tell you, but is everything okay?”

“You couldn't have waited until tomorrow? Y/N, this is my house, just… just get out.”

“I’m sorry?” You’re confused by his behavior, now starting to become a bit defensive and hurt by his dismissal. 

“You can’t just let yourself in whenever you please.” Jonathan puts his camera on his desk, still refusing to meet your eyes.

“Jonathan, we literally have always let ourselves into each other’s houses whenever we please.” 

He rolls his eyes at you and rips off his jacket, throwing it at you. “Get out!”

You catch the jacket before it hits you in the face. “What the hell, Jonathan!” 

“Listen, I get that you think you’re a part of the family, but you’re not. You’ve been here for days now, it’s getting old.” 

His words cut through you and leave vicious wounds against your skin. He doesn’t mean that, he can’t mean that. You and him were family. He’s never, ever insinuated anything less. He wouldn’t dare. Your Jonathan would never act like this to you, and the only time he’s ever been this cruel to you was when he accidentally dropped Lonnie’s last beer in the fridge and was too embarrassed and ashamed to ask for help; he’d shown up with bruises later that night.

Then it hits you. He did something, something that makes him feel guilty; he keeps glancing at his camera. You soften your voice, “Bee, what did you do?”

He whips around, now yelling. “Nothing! Just get the hell out of my house! It’s getting pathetic!” 

You swallow back the angry tears that build in your throat. Fine. Whatever. Let him be a raging bitch after everything you’ve done for him these last few days. 

“Fine, I will.” Grabbing your backpack you snatch the assignments you were supposed to give Jonathan and slam them against his chest. “Here’s all your fucking assignments, by the way.” 

He seems to come back to himself, blinking away the anger and shame. “Bug…”

“You don’t get to call me that.” And with that, you don’t spare Jonathan another glance. 

– 

When you get home, the house is eerily quiet. Dustin is at Mike’s and your mom leaves you a note saying that she’s spending the night at your aunt’s. Great. Looks like it’s just you and Mews tonight then. 

After everything that’s happened tonight, you never found time to eat dinner, and your stomach is loudly growling. You drop your stuff in your room and then reheat some leftovers, feeling like a pathetic child. You know that Jonathan didn’t mean what he said, but the words had come too easily to him to have just been a way to dodge his guilt. There had been some truth to them. Maybe you were pathetic for always fretting over him.

Dinner is quiet tonight. 

You wait for the phone to ring, for Jonathan to call you and apologize, but the call never comes. 

You’ve never felt so alone before.

-

⌑ series masterlist

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[little-sleepy-owl]

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫,

who is a virgin and wants him to be their first. gender neutral, not so much explicit, but still smutty, as usual. Alastor is his own warning. kinda.

this one took me a while for several reasons. mostly because life is a bitch, but also because it was a really hard piece to write. I'm asexual myself and this is heavily self-indulgent. I wanted to maintain this treat of his, but still explore the sexual aspect of the relationship and the way asexual people might participate in it. so... yeah. proceed with understanding of this.

oh? so, you're just like him.

the only one who is not surprised whatsoever. isn't it supposed to be that way?

though there are a lot of vulgar people around. he might even praise you for keeping your chastity for so long.

but… becoming your first?

“Truly, my dear? That's quite the favor to ask a gentleman!”

it's less about being repulsed by the idea of intimacy (it doesn't sound bad if it's with you) and more about not wanting to step into a completely uncharted territory.

that's a first for him too, after all.

give him time. he needs to research some things before he's ready to try.

a week or two later he suddenly appears out of the shadows in your room with loud static noises, scaring the shit out of you, and announces that he would be very pleased to take the offer!!

hooray..? (please come out from under the bed, darling.)

now, just like Husk, he is an old-fashioned man. for him, this could only happen after a nice date.

he prefers a simple stroll around the city arm in arm, and having some coffee with you.

you can sense that he's a tad nervous, but also deeply thrilled. his posture is a little stiff while walking, ears, usually unmoving, twitch slightly here and there. it's cute.

you also notice he's more physically intimate with you today than usual. sitting a bit closer to you and leaning in subtly, so you can feel his warmth. gently covering your hand with his own. reaching to fix your hair, touch feather-like and making your heart pound in your chest.

none of it is sexual in any way, but the difference in his demeanor doesn't let you forget your plans for the night even for a moment.

judging by the sly curve of his smile and very attentive gaze, this is one hundred percent intentional.

inclined to take you into his own room after the date. if you're not against the living forest in the background.

(I suggest you accept the offer. fireflies would be a very romantic addition to your night.)

he needs to talk things out first.

“Let's discuss some rules of our… little arrangement.”

the rules are quite simple, although you might find them odd.

he will not take all his clothes off. especially not the lower part. pants stay on no matter what.

his hands, his mouth? all for your pleasure, darling. no limitations here.

and maybe, if you behave yourself and ask nicely… his shadows, too, can participate.

he merrily refuses to elaborate on what “behaving” means for him exactly. it's simply more fun that way, isn't it?

jacket tossed inside, sleeves rolled up. honestly speaking, it already feels too revealing. you don't think you ever saw so much of his arms or his neck before.

he is in a white shirt today, clean and pure, like the snow on the mountaintop. pristine even.

you never saw this, either.

he follows your gaze and his smile turns a little unsettling. you shiver, suddenly feeling like you are the one who's exposed here, even though you haven't taken off anything yet.

“No blood to stain it today, my dear,” he coos, adjusting the shirt slightly. oh, so usually he wears red for–

you don't want to continue this thought right now.

he's very insistent on undressing you by himself.

he uncovers you like you're his birthday cake in a cute present box. slowly removing every ribbon, carefully taking off the wrapping, anticipating what's underneath.

his hands are cold, but his eyes are heated, even somewhat hungry. and so, so intent.

he drinks on your every shiver, on the way your lips parts ever so slightly to let out a small gasp, on the goosebumps that run on your skin, when he leans in to nibble on your pretty neck, right beside the quicked throbbing of your pulse.

he hums an old tune, seemingly lost in exploration of your body and the way you respond to his touch.

he's eager to learn and very observant. he changes the pace the moment he notices you feeling uncomfortable. he discovers what makes you respond well and uses the knowledge without any shame.

but he also does very much love you telling him what you want him to do with that cute trembling voice of yours.

that's what eventually earns you the shadows taking part in the whole fun. if this is something you desire.

if you weren't satisfied before, you most certainly are now.

expect him to restrain you. he likes to see you squirming under his touch, unable to set the pace. he does everything deliberately slow, so you would beg him to give you more and do it faster.

he's very controlling in general, and although he takes into account what you want, he will also act on his own whim.

it honestly seems that he likes teasing and tormenting you to see your reactions much more than the physical aspect of it all.

humor him, and he will reward you accordingly.

but don't let him get too lost in it. he has a tendency to forget that you're not merely a toy to play with.

set some boundaries and you'll be alright.

once you both decide it's enough, he's a thoughtful gentleman again, bringing a glass of water for you, and helping you clean yourself up.

will let you rest your head on his lap, gentle light of fireflies surrounding you.

he sings a shooting melody, letting you peacefully drift off to sleep.

[da-rulah]

request: how the papas would react to reader crying during or after sex? Also I love the way you write! 🖤🖤

I've had two people ask for this now, so let's get down to business... Each scenario is different, crying for different reasons, some during some after. Some are sad, some are horny af, so be warned. I may have flown too close to the sun with this one... TW/ Orgasm denial & over stimulation, some BDSM with paddle spanking, FWB to lovers, sadness, angst and obviously…. Crying during sex. 18+ MINORS DNI!

Primo

With his age, comes an understanding of the human body that you can only get with experience.

This is why with so much care and attention, Primo has you on the edge of climax so quickly, denying you and end and then bringing you right back to the edge.

He's not cruel about it though, he's very sweet, nurturing almost.

"You're doing so well, toppolino..."

He asks you to count how many times he’s ruined your orgasm… it nearly kills you.

"I know you can handle it, fiorellina. What number is it now?"

When he finally lets you tip over that precipice, your entire body shakes and convulses under him. It rips through you like dropping a match to gasoline.

You're whimpering for him as you come back down, and without knowing, the tears have started. They're soaking your cheeks, dripping to the pillow beneath your head.

Primo looks shocked, and quickly his aged fingers are wiping at your cheeks.

"Mi dispiace, my darling... are you alright? Did I go to far?"

He hadn't, not at all. But your words failed you, and all you could do was sob into a kiss you initiated, cupping his cheeks to reassure him.

Secondo

He thought tonight was the night to introduce his newest paddle to you. You happily accepted his request, the shiny black leather looking mighty intriguing...

He rolled a pair of dice, calculating a random number. 11, is what they landed on...

11 spanks with his paddle. Each one felt harder than the last, testing your limits.

By spank no. 7, your eyes were tearing up. Still, you refused to use your safe word.

By spank no. 9, the tears were flowing freely.

You managed all 11 without your safe word, but when Secondo saw the streaks of tears down your face, his hardened dom exterior crumbled just a little. He'd made you cry once before, and that had been a safe word occasion. So he was panicked...

"Dolcezza, are you alright? Too much?"

He rocked you in his arms, careful not to touch your bruising behind.

"I'm okay, Papa... I'm okay..."

He kissed away the tears, mumbling praises to you.

"Need you, Papa... Still need you, please..."

He never could resist your begging.

Terzo

Your relationship with Terzo was strictly sexual. You knew that. You agreed to that.

But boy, did it hurt...

You wanted him emotionally, needed a closeness you were resigned to never get. But you continued your relationship despite this, grateful for what you could get. Grateful you could pretend...

With your ankles by your head, Terzo railed into you, rolling his hips with an expertise he had from your countless nights together. He knew was you liked.

"My sweet sorella, so good for me, no?"

You bit your lip, struggling with his wording choice. His. You wished...

As the thoughts invaded your mind, your need for release beckoned and yet, you couldn't reach it...

Terzo climaxed before you, roared expletives and pressing his forehead to yours, eyes shut as he caught his breath.

When he heard the first sob, his eyes shot open.

"Sorella, what...? What's the matter? Did I hurt you?"

You could only shake your head, but he had hurt you. Just not physically, and not with intention.

He searched your face for answers, trying desperately to hold eye contact with you that you kept avoiding.

"Per favore, look at me..." he spoke so softly, you could hardly ignore. "What is it?"

You poured your heart out to him, you couldn't hide it anymore. Any longer, and this relationship would break you...

Terzo sighed, rolling to lay next to you and pulling you to his bare chest.

"I adore you, tesoro... I fear we are both idioti," he chuckled, running his hand over his face, smearing his already smudged paints more.

He asked you to stay with him that night. You never slept in your own bed again.

Copia

It was such a stupid fight, one that you feared you couldn’t come back from.

You’d thrown his schedule in his face, told him it wasn’t fair that he didn’t give you any time at all now he was Papa…

When you came home, you had ignored him, making dinner and still leaving him a plate, but eating in a separate room without so much as a glance his way.

“You think I don’t give you enough attention, toppolino?” “I feel like I’m losing you, Copia… I’m so scared…”

His eyes flickered with rage when you’d begun to cry. Not at you - at himself. He’s made you feel this way?

Copia strode towards you and enveloped you in a kiss that would have made Lucifer blush.

He went into panic mode, overprotective mode. He had to show you right then and there how much he wanted to be with you, would never even dream of leaving you behind.

“You’re mine, I’m not going anywhere…”

His thrusts are wild and erratic yet somehow calculated just enough to hit the nerve endings inside you that mattered most.

You could see the desperation in his face as he fucked you, needing you to see how much he adores you and how he would bring the fires of hell up to the surface if you only asked him to…

He angrily shoved away the tears that escaped his own eyes, feeling pathetic for crying when it was you who was hurt.

“I’M. STAYING. RIGHT. HERE.” Each word punctuated with sharp, hard and frantic thrusts into you.

When you cum together, he collapses onto you. Both of you are in tears.

“I-I swear it, cara mio… I don’t want to lose you, I will do better…” he sobs into your neck

“I’m here, Copia. I’m so sorry… I’m right here.”

[sotwk]

Taken (Eomer x unnamed OC )

Part 1 of 3

Part 2 / Part 3

Love Confession feat. Eomer Eadig

Valentine 2023 Event by @sotwk

Summary: The lone shield-maiden in Eomer's Éored has been secretly in love with him for years, but has long accepted that that he can never share those feelings. At the feast of King Elessar's coronation, she is surprised to learn that there may yet be hope.

Prompt: "It's like you never really see me. I'm standing right in front of you and you don't see me!"

Requested by and Dedicated to: @writefortherain-blog Thank you for making this request and giving me the opportunity to write for Eomer!

Word count: 2.4k

Content: Romance, angst, mutual pining, oblivious to love, jealousy, forbidden relationship, class division, shield-maiden, King Eomer, post-RotK

Rating: T (Teens and up)

Warnings: Some sensuality

To Read on AO3: Link

Taken 

Third Age 3019 May 1

Minas Tirith

PART ONE

Downing that fourth cup of wine had been a mistake. Or was it the fifth? Sixth? The ridiculous dress with its rib-crushing bodice and neckline positioned nowhere near your neck, had also been a mistake, even though the local clother had insisted to you that it was in the "proper" Gondorian fashion. The entire evening and its inconveniences had all been for a failed end. 

You finally jostled your way out of the packed feasting hall and stumbled outside to the courtyard, your compressed lungs and flushed skin rejoicing at their contact with the cool night air. One hand rose to massage your throbbing temple, and the other clawed irritatedly at the boning that caged in your unacceptably unfeminine frame. 

"Never again," you seethed under your breath, as you crossed the white-stone pavement to move even farther away from the chaos you escaped. 

It had been a painful decision to ride out to Minas Tirith with the rest of your Éored and attend the coronation of the returned King of Gondor. You despised grand affairs, knowing well enough the requirements rules of court would impose on you, unwieldy formal attire being just one of them. These were at least tolerable within Rohan, where you could find some comfort amongst familiar faces and settings. But as the lone female who rode in the company of the Third Marshal, you refused to be excluded from any undertaking by your Éored, however dangerous or unpleasant. Whether it broke your arm or shattered your heart.

"I can just go," you thought, casting a quick glance back at the great hall, alive and alight with the merry cacophony of a thousand revelers that would surely last until dawn. The two hours you already spent mingling to the best of your limited ability had to suffice, and it was doubtful your presence would even be missed. 

But the call of a deep voice stalled your retreat, loud and commanding and instantly recognizable even across a distance as it shouted your name. The soldier in you succumbed to the instinct to obey your Marshal, to honor the oath you had sworn on your knees years ago. 

The flickering flames of nearby torchlights reflected against the carved silver panels of the breastplate he donned over his lavishly embroidered tunic. Famously handsome even when caked in blood and grime, Eomer was breathtakingly resplendent bearing the regalia that befitted his station. King Eomer now, you reminded yourself, as you dipped your head in a bow. 

“My lord.”

“Is something amiss? Why did you leave?” His narrowed eyes upon you were penetrating, his tone demanding rather than concerned. Lying to someone you had spent practically every single day of your adult life with was difficult, and even more so with an addled brain, so you knew you had to mince words carefully.  

Fortunately, you had years of practice doing exactly that. 

“I underestimated the potency of their vintage, and downed one cup too many.” You scrunched up your features in a grimace that just slightly exaggerated your pain. “I thought it best to excuse myself and retire for the night.”

“Perhaps if you rested a while and ate some food…” He rested a hand lightly on your shoulder. “It is much too early and the quarters would still be empty. I know you detest fraternizing, but just sit at the table with the rest of our men.”

You released a graceless guffaw and a puff of wine-tinged breath. “Half of them are already deeper in their cups than I, and getting sloppier by the second. I finally had to remind Héothain of his manners the second time he tried to sneak a hand down the front of my dress.”

“He did what?” Eomer’s sudden growl awakened you to your own carelessness and slip of the tongue. Smooth-cheeked Héothain was the youngest and newest addition to the Éored, and remained sorely lacking in experience with women. He should not be held accountable for his awkwardness amplified by insobriety. 

“It was a silly mistake that caused no harm,” you insisted, pulling back as Eomer attempted to lead you off by the elbow. “Two sprained fingers taught him a lesson he shall not soon forget.” 

Eomer glowered at you but remained silent for a pause, as he did whenever running through courses of action in his mind. “Then you can come sit by me at the King’s table.”

Your laugh in response to that suggestion was shrill and nervous, as he looked so serious making it. “I most certainly cannot… my lord.” You stated your defiance firmly, baring a toothless pertinacity against your leader, and underneath it a silent plea that the friend in him would understand. “There is no place for me amongst such esteemed company and truly, there is nothing in the world I would enjoy less at this moment.” 

You sighed and braced one hand below your rib area, massaging a spot where the corset dug into a still-tender battle injury. 

“Please. Let me go back to my room where I can be rid of these dreadful garments.”

“No.” The immediacy and sharpness of his refusal made you blink in surprise. “Not until you explain yourself to my satisfaction.”

“Pardon, my lord?”

“Hah, there! That is what I am speaking of.” 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand--”

“When did you cease to call me by my name in private conversation? Or last bother to converse with me at all?!” You took too long to answer, and he barreled on, hazel eyes flashing with the sudden rise of agitation. “Let me enlighten you, since I recall it well. It began after Theodred’s death, accompanied by a host of other changes in your behavior towards me that you think I have not noticed!”

You scrambled to concoct a rebuttal, another feint to keep him from uncovering your secrets. Alas, your dulled mind had frozen completely in the face of the horse-lord’s fury, which had never been directed at you in such a manner.

“You are misreading things, my lord, or else imagining them. I cannot say that I--”

“You cannot even look me in the eye these days of late!” Eomer snapped. “Nor can you stand to be in any room I am in for long.” He threw out his arm in the direction of the great hall. “Even now you rebuff any attempt I make to spend time with you.”

“I…I…” You stammered, rendered helpless before his unexpected wrath, cursing yourself for the poor timing of your inebriation. How could you put up your shields when your mind was struggling to pick out your own lies from the truth?

“If you are angry with me, I would have you admit to it now. I will no longer be played for a fool.”

Indignation pooled in your gut, crawling upward until it deepened the coloring of your already flushed face. “I confess to nothing! For what cause do I have to be angry?”

“Because you loved him!” Eomer erupted. As you gaped at his outburst, he gripped a fistful of his hair, and took in one sharp breath, steeling himself. “You loved Theodred,” he finally said, in a voice gone cold and quiet. “And you place blame on me for his death.”

The fire in your belly flared at the terrible accusation. “Theodred was murdered by Saruman, and only a traitor would fault you for that vile cur’s deed.” You shook a finger at him emphatically. “I am no traitor.”

“Did you love my cousin?”

“Of course I did,” you said stoutly. The prince’s demise plagued you still, for you had been the one to spot Theodred’s body amongst the corpses that littered the fords. And after he’d been borne away to Meduseld, you never saw him alive again, and all you could do was weep in the privacy of your quarters, which you did for weeks, mourning the loss of so much more than a dear friend and mentor. 

“No one has ever shown me greater kindness than Theodred.” You held a hand over your heart as a different ache rose in you. “He believed in me at a time when no one else would, not even you." 

Eomer had fallen silent, but you saw his cloaked shoulders rise and fall, broad chest heaving in the manner so familiar to you. It was the way he looked on the battlefield, where his blood ran hottest, and he was fighting to balance out the genteel lord and savage killer that both resided within him. He was so thoroughly upset with you. 

“If I have made you feel like your cousin’s fate was in any way your fault, I am truly sorry,” you said. "But what sort of questions are these, and why are you asking them now?"

His gaze flicked back in your direction, leaden with anguish. "You should know why."

“I am telling you I do not, my lord, and I must beg you to explain why you are speaking so cryptically."

“You wish for me to explain in words something I have been trying to show you for years now?!” He gave a strangled laugh and raised his eyes and hands to the night sky. "Bema…"

“It is as though you never really see me,” he muttered, almost as though speaking to himself. “Here I am, standing right in front of you, and you do not see me!"

But you did hear his mumbled complaints, and suddenly it was all too much. Your sickening weariness, your aches both physical and emotional, your befuddlement caused by the six drinks and this man's unhinged raging as he launched yet another ludicrous accusation at you.

"Not see you?" you repeated, and something about just saying it rammed open the gate behind which you had caged up every real thing you ever wanted to say to Eomer, Son of Eomund. 

"If such a thing were possible, I would wish it upon myself immediately!" you exclaimed. "But you are all I ever see, even when I do not wish to! Even when I flee from your presence, I can never escape a face that refuses to leave my thoughts!" 

Oh Valar, no. STOP. Panicked, you bit down on your lip to imprison the words fleeing your mouth, so hard you tasted blood. But Eomer suddenly moved forward, encroaching on the space you desperately fought to maintain for your own protection, and his hazel eyes locked into yours to wrench away the last of your defenses. 

"It hurts too much, can you not understand?!" you cried, managing one step back. "To remain in the presence of the one thing you most desire but will never have, to be taunted by a dream that will never be fulfilled, to watch as it falls into the possession of another while you can do absolutely nothing!"

He spoke your name, his voice oddly hoarse, and shame finally came crashing down inside you. Your hands flew up to hide your face and suddenly he grabbed your wrists, tugging your arms away only to replace your hands with his own, warming your cheeks with his calloused palms. 

“Then see me now,” he ordered. “And know I have always understood how that feels. What great fools we have both been all along to deny ourselves our true desires.”

“Eomer, what--” The stroke of his thumb over the corner of your mouth drove the rest of the words away, and the parting of your lips and flutter of your eyes gave him the approval he sought. 

His kiss tasted more glorious than they did in a thousand daydreams combined. It did not surprise you that he was completely unlike the other men you had kissed before. Whereas lesser men were greedy and sloppy in their hunger, the caress of Eomer’s mouth was deep and languid, almost worshipful in its exploration of your lips, as though he aimed to savor every small sensation and intended to carry on doing this with you forever. 

His one arm looped around your waist to hold you covetously against him; his broad left hand traveled from your cheek to cradle the back of your neck, his long fingers burying themselves into your hair, tips grazing your scalp. It fired up a new heat in you that you had never felt before, not with such raw intensity, and a tremulous whimper escaped your throat. 

But the sound of your own pleasure was your undoing, for it triggered an alarm in your head, one that caused you to break away from Eomer’s passion. You mumbled against his lips the words you had conditioned yourself for years to think around him. 

“My lord, I cannot…”

He paused, his eyes still dazed and unfocused, caught in a state of bliss--one that you caused, you realized with a shiver. “You cannot… what?” he said thickly. Without waiting for an answer, he dipped back in eagerly to trail his mouth up your jawline, his tongue skimming the tender pulse underneath your ear. 

You gave a small cry and pushed against his chest with more force, immediately waking his attention. His arm around your waist remained stubbornly secure however, and it took you physically prying the powerful limb off for you to slip free. Either due to shock or lingering delirium, Eomer did not resist. 

“I cannot…” Your voice broke even as you clung to your resolve. “I cannot have you.”

His heavy brows furrowed. “What?” Within seconds the confusion lifted to uncover his dismay, layered with anger. “You would speak lies and nonsense again, after everything I told you?”

“It is the truth, Eomer!” You started backing away already, stepping faster and faster as he began to move and reach out for you. “You can never be anything more than a dream to someone like me. I cannot have what is already taken.”

“Taken? What--wait! No!” He started to run, but you had already turned heel and were sprinting full-speed towards the Citadel Gate. You had always been faster on your feet; there was no hope of him catching up if you refused to heed his orders. “Stop!”

His shouts of your name faded quickly, drowned out by the noise of the milling crowd you plunged into and the thunder of your own frantic heartbeat. You slowed to a walk but kept a quick pace, weaving haphazardly through the throng and on and on until you’d descended at least two levels. Only then did you duck into a side street and survey your surroundings.

Your escape succeeded. Neither Eomer nor any Rohirrim were anywhere to be found, at least for the moment.

You collapsed upon the nearest doorstep, exhaustion and aches finally overcoming you. As the chaotic whirlwind within you settled, so too did the reality of what just occurred sink in. 

Eomer desired you, perhaps even loved you as you did him. But the King of Rohan’s love was not for you, a common soldier, to take. You had known that all along, and he did too. It was unkind of him to give you such false hope. 

Raising your fingers to your swollen lips, you felt the ghost of his perfect kisses on them, and finally burst into tears over yet another memory that will grieve you until your trampled heart could bear no more.

To be continued...

Tag list: @aduialel @fizzyxcustard @laneynoir @auttumnsayshi @achromaticerebus @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @scyllas-revenge @glassgulls @ladyweaslette @heilith @absentmindeduniverse @lathalea @guardianofrivendell @quickslvxr @asianbutnotjapanese @heranintomyknife23times @entishramblings

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[thecherrytarot]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

what do you need to let go of?

pile 1 → pile 2 → pile 3

Pick the photo you feel the most drawn to and please remember that this is a general reading so take what resonates!!

listen to: chamber of reflection by Mac DeMarco.

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏:

"No use looking out, it's within that brings that lonely feeling. understand that when you leave here, you'll be clear among the better men"

You need to let go of your fear of failure and accept the fact that mistakes are meant to teach you lessons the hard way. You need to let go of your limiting beliefs that were actually set by others for you. I'm getting the message that some of you want to move out of your house because you want to explore and learn more about this world but feel like your potential is being wasted by being stuck in your known surroundings. For some of you, this could be an overly protective parent figure who refuses to let you grow up (I hope this makes sense and doesn't sound too weird) and because of this you are stuck in a dilemma where you feel suffocated by the lack of freedom but at the same time, you doubt if you could achieve your dreams. Going back to the "being stuck in your surroundings" part, some of you might have even pretended to someone else to fit in just so you don't feel lonely and left out but I feel like the majority of you stopped this cause you realized that you were losing your true self to fit in with people who don't really care that much about you, just the person you pretended to be.

You need to let go of your habit of procrastination because you are afraid of the result. You are not only afraid of failing but also afraid of succeding and dealing with new, unknown experiences. You may feel like you are trapped in a situation which is beyond your control but deep down within you, you do know that you have the freedom to do what you want to do you just don't want to take the effort for it. You are holding yourself back from being the best version of yourself. Set boundaries and stand up for yourself assertively instead of stalling confrontations against the 'higher authority" who tells you that you can't do it.

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐:

"Spend some time away, getting ready for the day you're born again. spend some time alone, understand that soon you'll run with better men"

You need to let go of your habit of neglecting yourself for the sake of helping others, to please them so that they do not feel disappointed in you. You need to protect yourself and take care of yourself first and then think about others. Many of you might be the eldest (or have to act like the eldest) children who have a lot of responsibilities and do not have enough time to focus on yourself. I heard someone defending themselves by saying "But I do skin care" this is more than that. many of you could also put all your focus on how you look but neglect other areas such as your diet, mental and physical health etc. Regardless of what it is, the message is to prioritise yourself and give others the space and the freedom to grow on their own.

You need to let go of your habit of building up walls that separate you from the actual reality. You may have felt like you were born and raised in hell and now your feelings and emotions have altered your viewpoint of the world that you see. You may feel like numbing your emotions and desires you are keeping yourself safe. Many of you could use this as a defence mechanism because you were hurt in your past and are now afraid of the present uncertainties. You may feel like "if I don't bring in any change, I'll be safe" but the universe is telling you to bring in the change that a tiny part of you wants. It is asking you to stop denying and avoid changes because you are afraid that it might break the facade of your strength. Let go of the things that no longer benefit you.

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑:

"alone again"

(it was so difficult for me to get the messages cause the energy felt all over the place but the first message came out strong even though I feel like it is only for a certain number. i know the song is something else but I kept hearing Swing Lynn by Harmless so take however that resonates.)

You need to let go of your obsession with love/ future spouse readings. Sometimes you do not need to know every single detail about your future to feel a sense of control over the situation, confirmation of the future that you obsessively desire or whatever the reason is. There is no harm in reading them but there should be a limit, there are times when we are not meant to know something until it has happened and the best way to manifest something is the law of detachment.

You need to let go of your habit of struggling to say "no" even in situations you do not feel comfortable (like there are two cards indicating this) You need to assert your boundaries, needs and wants with confidence. You need to be honest with yourself and focus on prioritising your actual needs. Bringing discipline and action into your life will help you achieve your manifestation a lot faster than just simply waiting for it to arrive at your doorstep. This will help you bring the balance that you have always wanted. The other side of this is, that you need to let go of your fear of consequences, you may (sometimes unintentionally) give the 'decision-making' responsibilities to someone else so that if and when things go wrong you can blame someone else instead of yourself. It is important for you to take responsibility for your own actions and use them as opportunities to grow instead of feeling stuck in your self doubt.

You need to let go of numbing yourself from the discomfort and confront it. The wisdom, freedom and power that you search in others is already in you, just have to trust yourself and listen to it and give yourself an opportunity to grow. Reflect on your shadow self and learn to face your fears.

Please give feedback <3

[bloomshroomz]

I don't understand the whole, "You can't explain gender stuff to kids; they're too young to understand" argument. Refusing to explain anything just results in more confusion.

As a kid, I thought that trans people were a really cool hypothetical, but didn't realize that could actually be a real thing until years later. I used to try to find portals where I could step in and swap my gender in elementary school, because I thought that would be the only way.

In third grade, we had a project where we were given the letters of our names and pictures of our faces, and we were supposed to draw the rest for a sort of classroom student book thing. I dropped some of the letters in my name to make it masculine, cut off the hair, and drew stuff that I thought was cool.

The teacher saw this and said, "Is that really how you want people to remember you?" clearly expecting me to say "no."

But I said "Yes," and the teacher argued against this for a bit, before giving in and allowing me to use the art that I made. They still made me create a version that aligned with my AGAB, though. The masculine version was only kept in black and white.

(Fun fact: My chosen name is actually almost identical to the name I chose in third grade. I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted, even with my limited knowledge on what I could do.)

I fantasized about being able to change my gender a lot as a kid, whether that meant being a boy, or being neither a girl nor a boy, or being between/some sort of boygirl. I wished that I could "genderbend," because that was the terminology I knew.

I learned that trans people actually exist in like... Middle school? And people were super transphobic at the time, so I internalized that for a few years before accepting that I'm trans. That pain could've been avoided if I had been taught from a young age that trans people exist, and that it's okay to be trans.

I was a trans kid, and I didn't know that was what I was until I was a teen, because I wasn't given the opportunity to know. Trans kids exist, regardless of whether you give them language to express their experiences or not.

And I've met trans kids who knew that terminology, and knew that they were trans because of it. I've also met kids who weren't trans, but still experimented with pronouns and gender expression for a short while to see how they felt, because they were given the freedom to do so. It's good to let kids explore who they are.

I'm also openly trans, and I don't hide this from anyone. Kids understand, even if I'm the first to explain it to them. It's not a hard concept to grasp. My little brother was introducing me to his friends as his big brother even when I was expressing myself very femininely, and hardly any kids batted an eye. Some of them were curious why I looked so feminine for a guy, and it was easy to explain. It has also been easy to explain what being nonbinary means.

Kids latch onto concepts like gender more easily than you think. Out of everyone in my family, my little brother (who still isn't even a teen yet) has been one of the most supportive people when it comes to my transition. I can't think of a time when he has misgendered me- not in years, at least. He caught on fast, and he never gets it wrong. He even corrects people who misgender me. I get misgendered by the adults in my family much more than the children.

Kids get it. All you gotta do is explain.

[i-yap]

Hi Lovely,

I don’t know if your requests are open but I thought I’d try my luck. My cat died today and I’m really upset, I was hoping you could do hurt/comfort hcs with Jason (and maybe platonic Damian as he’s the big animal lover)?

Thank you x

Hey im so sorry for your loss man. even the dog in my dp has now passed away and he was my baby and I get how painful it is. I still miss him everyday and refuse to have any account picture without him . Just really take the time to heal and don't let any idiot tell you that yourent supposed to feel sad about a pet passing because honestly I loved my pet more than my brother and I'm sure that cat was loved and lived a great life.

Also my requests are always open I love writing them

Jason Todd x reader x platonic damian- When your cat dies

comfort, angst

It was expected almost, they were just so old and the visits to the vet had become more frequent. It seemed like they was in pain, and that hurt you so much that you wondered if maybe it was for the best. But your heart didn't let you accept that, they were your baby and you cant just accept loosing them like that.

So there you sat , on the sofa, clutching Jason while you sobbed. He sat silently, holding you to him firmly. He had already texted Bruce / militia saying he wont be In that night or as longs as you needed.

Jason isnt the best at comforting words , but there are no words to be said. What jason is good at though is validating your feelings. Even though he has limited interactions with your cat, he could see how deeply you cared for it.

So when your tears start to dry and you pull away from his chest he gently rubs away the remaining tears. He picks you up and carries you to the kitchen counter. Sets a pot of boiling water to make your favorite noodles/ tea depending on when you last ate. He then walks to the freezer and holds an ice pack in his hands . After a couple second he places his cold hands on your poofy tear stained cheeks .

"Im sorry to have burdened you, you dont cry when you've been shot and here I am crying over some cat . You don't have to stay, you must think Im so weak" you say softly feelings the tears starting to well up from the gentle way jason's treating you.

" No No I will hear none of that. How dare you think you are weak. I admit I don't know how to comfort you ..i never really got attached to a lot of things. But I love this about you, the way you love so much and so unconditionally. And the way you hurt for someone ..that's the real show of love. If the roles were switched, would you think I'm a burden? no right? So why would you assume I would? i want to be here for you, whatever you need whenever you need."

" you are doing really well so far"

the doorbell rings and Jason goes to open it.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE DEVIL SPAWN"

"Shut it todd, I'm here to see y/n."

"And why should I let you see her?"

"Because I know her cat died and I know you are incapable of comforting her since you have never felt an ounce of love for anything"

"I LOVE Y/N?? ALSO HOW WOULD YOU KNOW THAT- wait you hacked something didn't you?"

"Bruce informed me you would be staying in tonight andI have trackers placed on you and y/n and saw you driving to and from the vet , also Y/n hadn't logged into her work account. Even you would have been able to deduce that y/n needs me right now" says Damian matter of factly.

"dont be rude todd, let dami in" you say getting off the kitchen counter. You go over to shake dami's hand but he pulls you into a hug. You and todd exchange confused glances.

" I apologize for your loss y/n, if anything happened to my pets I would stab todd and then burn down a civilization" Dami's voice muffled from your clothes.

"WHY STAB ME"

"because you probably had something to do with it, You are very affection hungry when it comes to y/n"

"WHA-" "I agree with dami" "WHa-is that a backpack Demon spawn?"

"Yes , i will be spending the night here watching some "feel-good movies as she says it with y/n, I cant leave her in the hands of a barbarian now can I"

"I WAS TAKING CARE OF HER JUST FINE" shouts jason mock angrily, after all he understands how Damian and Y/n share a bond when it comes to their pets.

"Be happy I didnt tell the rest of the bats todd" " thank god for that"

You pull Dami in and fall asleep cuddled between your two amazing and caring boys, knowing that your cat was loved and spent their last moments knowing there were people in this world who will cry once they leave.

I hope this was okay , there weren't A lot of headcanons ..

[acerathia]

Fics For Gaza

hello!! I finally got some time to participate in the initiative made by @ficsforgaza ! Down below are some WIP's which I have planned in some capacity to write during the summer/until the end of the year. I will also be accepting some requests for a limited amount of time, and for this one, please shoot me a message first beforehand.

How it works: The rate is set at 1$ per 100 words. The donation should go directly to a verified fundraiser and just send me the confirmation (personal information should be removed/censored) as proof with the link to the fundraiser and the fic sponsored as an ask. The wordcount (donated and writing status) will be updated regularly under the WIP's. As for the requests, send me an ask/dm first to discuss the content of it! For both I will try to be consistent and on time, but as there will be times where day to day life will get the best of me, but I will update accordingly also. Of course, consider looking at the list of other writers working on this initiative!!

current WIP's:

~your sweet return: gojo satoru synopsis: You love the forest, it was the place where you escape from everything haunting you. So, what could even happen if you discover a fairy circle, one oh so daunting, and you begin to hold a conversation with your invisible companion?

estimated wordcount: 8k written: 0.7k donated: 0.5k/3k progress: 0.5k/0.5k

---

~eclipse: xiao synopsis: The souls filled with karma find relief under the touch of your skin. Yet, you've never tried to cleanse anyone, not since you've gained your freedom. Until the one you're indebted to asks you to help a certain Adeptus. And who are you to refuse?

estimated wordcount: 3k written: 0.5k donated: 0/1.5k progress: 0/0

---

~Surviving the Tyrant: todoroki touya synopsis: Waking up in your favourite novel would be such a fantastic experience. That's what you thought until you actually woke up in one and found yourself engaged to the tyrannical prince Todoroki Touya. Your death was to be by his hands, and you are going to do anything to avoid such a fate.

estimated wordcount: 10k written: 0 donated: 0/4k progress: 0/0

---

~The Lament of Erebus: Midoriya-centric synopsis: They appeared in the dead of night, ripping people out of their homes and lives, only leaving scattered clothes fluttering in the wind. There was nothing else left of the missing people. OR Midoriya Izuku is quirkless, despite his protests, despite the feeling churning in his insides. It seems like fate has a cruel way to show its affection, as this lead to a social death sentence. And he has lived like that all his life. That is until society began to shift, creatures of the night swallowing people residing in the dark. The question is, what is the connection between them and Izuku?

estimated wordcount: ? written: 6.2k donated: 0/2k progress: 0/0

---

~Back against the Wall: Meta-Analysis for ORV using the reader-insert synopsis: What kind of effect might you (you and you and you) have on the way the plot unfolds? Can your voice (overlapping, echoing, not truly yours, but it is) be heard in the scheme of grander things?

estimated wordcount: ? written: 4.3k donated: 0/2k progess: 0/0

---------

requests:

Once again, before anything, contact me to make sure that I'm able to write the possible request. The rate is the same, and I'm going to tell you how long the request might be based on my own estimations. Please be aware that these requests are limited, both time-wise and quantity-wise, and that I might refuse any request based on my own abilities and comfort.

what fandoms: MHA, HSR, Genshin, Naruto, Touchstarved, Obscura, JJK, Love and Deepspace, ORV, AoT, and some others, feel free to ask! I am also okay with certain continuations of some of my work to be requested

[fandomfluffandfuck]

related mostly to this, but also this, so... very tmi shit under the cut:

Normally, when I have tmi sex and/or scene stories to tell, I put them in the tags, but there's too much to say this time thus, a whole fucking post. No half hiding in the tags, lmao.

Last night was a goddamn religion experience. I swear to FUCK. I say scenes are godly in the most unholy way in my writing a lot and... yeah 😮‍💨

The first thing I did at the party was get my boots blacked, since I've always wanted to, and--Jesus Christ. I would have been completely chill with that being my only playing for the whole night because it was ✨️that good✨️

The bootblack that was there was criminally, unfairly good in so many ways. For one, my boots look better than they did when I bought them, and I do upkeep them myself. Secondly, he fried my fucking brain. Of course, I understood that bootblacking in a kink setting is a kinky experience and would be deeply sexual going into it. That being said, I was not fucking prepared for the bootblack to apply some of the shit he was using on my leather with his tongue. I was not prepared to have one of the leather belts that he had to work on wrapped around my neck to use as a leash to force me down closer to his level where he was at my feet so he could kiss me. With my chest pressed to my thighs, his hand at the end of some strangers belt around my throat, he kissed me, and smeared some of whatever it was he was using into my mouth, against my own tongue. I was not prepared for him to taste the leather of my boots, nor was I prepared for him to share the fucking taste (not to mention him asking if I wanted a second taste when we broke apart and me immediately going, "uh-huh," as if I were trained on command). 😮‍💨🥴 Oh. my. fucking. god.

I tipped the bootblack because, duh, and he playfully refused to accept it from my hand. Instead, he had me wedge the cash between the lases of my boots because he wanted to show off how he could untie my laces with just his teeth. He did. He fucking did. Then, he had me re-tie my own laces. I nearly fucking forgot how to tie my boots, I shit you not--and I'm pretty sure that was the point 👀

Okay, so, boots blackened and severely fucking turned on, after that I was like whatever the fuck comes up, I'm fucking good. I. Yeah.

I watched for a while. The guy who threw the party had a really big house with only a small part set as off-limits, so I wandered around until... I got approached by a different guy. I forget the exact words of his opener, and even if I remembered it, it would be nowhere as charming in text as in real life. Anyway, he was straight (ha) to the point and basically was, just, hey, you look like you're really light (for reference, think about pre-serum Steve but a tiny bit taller, I'm 5'6", not 5'4"), I bet you'd be perfect to suspend. And, oh, are you into that, by chance? When I said I'd never been suspended, he started to back off, but I was like, oh, oh no. You can't say shit like that to me and not expect to make me curious to try.

People.

I've tied other people up before, but I haven't been tied up myself in any real capacity--I've practiced shit on myself and gotten off, lmao. And certainly, I had never been suspended myself.

I have now.

I got fucking suspended.

There were anchor points in the ceiling of the basement, and we used them to their full capacity. The writer in me is, like, details details details, meaning I would fucking love to tell you what ties he did and everything but I don't fucking remember. He told me the names before we got into it so I could agree. But I don't recall in the fucking slightest, lmao. I just. Brain gone.

He did my legs (my calves to the back of my thighs) and arms (which were straight back behind me, tied together at the elbow and wrist, meaning that my arms were up toward the ceiling as I was facing the floor). (Eventually, he tied a rope around my torso at the small of my back, too, to help hold me up, that was later, though.)

But.

Before I was really suspended, I was on the floor, he had me on my back, legs folded up underneath me, arching my back to accommodate for the position and so my stomach and dick was very exposed, and he joked very casually--while standing over me, staring down and smirking, of course 🥴--about kicking me so hard that he'd leave the tread print of his boot in my stomach and. I think I died.

Fuck.

I really kinda wish he did kick me that hard 😮‍💨 I'm sure the pattern of the fucking workboots he had on would look great.

Anyway, then, later, I was not on the floor. At all. And as it turns out, I'm even more bendy than I apparently already look 💀

I don't really experience subspace in the same capacity that I experience domspace. I don't go as deep, for sure. And maybe that's why I prefer domming to some degree. That being said, suspension is probably the deepest I've ever gone into subspace. Like. That weightlessness. Every touch, meant to be stimulating--being groped or whatever--or not--like having his fingers slide between my skin and the ropes, checking to make sure nothing was too tight--made my entire body move and sway and twist. Yet, I absolutely couldn't move. I could not keep anything straight. He would touch me in one place and then suddenly be doing something else, somewhere else.

The rope he was using was sisal and holy shit. It's like jute but better because it's rougher and it hurts more. Like. Suspension obviously doesn't have to hurt. I told him I was all good with more than a little hurt, though. So. He made it hurt.

And I now have the announcment that I... I may be much more of a masochist than I thought 💀💀

I couldn't move, obviously, but I could strain against the ropes some and oh my fucking god. He edged me, jerking me off, before I came down from the tie and he swear to god I was groaning so ridiculously loudly by the end because I couldn't not strain and flex against the rope but that just made the rope dig even more into my skin. Every time I twitched it hurt a little more. Not gonna lie, I think the weightlessness and restraining and pain did more for me than the pleasure of a hand job 😮‍💨

It was incredible.

That fucking dom was incredible. He was so good at ties and suspension and so accommodating to my inexperience, listening but also creative enough to know where to push to give me more than I wanted.

Also. Because I was already fucking there and why not go zero to sixty, though, this is probably more like zero to hundred, lmao, when I came down from being suspended, he untied me, and then I gave my first blow job. It is exactly what I thought it would be, which is intoxicating. The smell. The taste. The weight of it. The power. The way he enjoyed it. Just. Yup.

I was totally fucking locked in the entire time the scene was happening, nothing else fucking existed, nothing else could have--but now that I'm out of it... I can't wait to turn around and have a sub that I can give head to in the same way. I love eating pussy, I really fucking do. It's about the heat, the wetness, the smell, the way they squirm, those noises, and the way it's so fucking easy to pull pleasure out of someone like that. And I just know sucking dick would be the same, doing it from the dom side, not the sub side. As a sub, don't get me wrong, it feels so fucking good to be used--aching, in pain, like, fucking throbbing but also totally limp, so all you can do is stay where they put you and be used. But, I just know flipped it'll be just as good and, maybe, for my personal taste, better.

Aftercare was done--that rope dom was fucking great (as was that bootblack). And before my friend, who I came with, and I left, we did little more watching, together, then headed home.

So, to simplify: first, all gay dungeon party achieved and successful 😮‍💨😮‍💨 Bootblacking experience successful and hot as shit. Suspension experience successful, also hot as shit. Giving a blowjob successful, hot, and in need of repeats.

Thanks for listening to my tmi tales, lmao

[goodluckclove]

On Experimentation in Writing, and In Defense of Weak Words

So there's a lot of writing advice I don't like. I don't care if it's from a wildly successful career author or some random person on the internet - if anyone makes a blanket statement on how you have to craft a story, I automatically lose some degree of respect for them as an artist. The fact that so many people online refuse to acknowledge the use of I statements and find community by sharing their individual experience is tiring and annoying to me.

One frequent trend is replacing weak words with "stronger" ones. Don't say "sad"! They insist. If you say sad it's bad writing! Instead of that you should describe the slight drooping tremor of their brow! The arch of a single tear! Doleful is a synonym for sad, say that instead!

This is where I hope people realize that I am not someone who thinks no one should be angry ever. I struggle with anger issues, and this is the type of "advice" that makes me really fucking angry. But I'll try to approach this sensibly.

Prose has rhythm - that's how I see it. It's like music, and because of that there's a lot more freedom to create a successful piece if you can compose with intent. Whenever I see someone list acceptable synonyms for a word they don't like, I see someone claiming they have the list of acceptable instruments in Jazz. Like, what the hell are you talking about? Stop it.

Also, synonyms of a weak word that sound more literary also might mean something different. If you replace "sad" with any fancier synonym you might actually create absurdities in your writing that you don't intend to do. "Downcast" is a synonym for sad that relates specifically to people. "Regretful" is another one that means specifically showing regret. "Traumatic" is considered a synonym for "Sad", you understand why this isn't always the right fit.

I think it can be a good thing to explore the connection between a character's physicality and the description of their emotions, but a person can do a lot with that. People don't express emotions in very similar ways. When you see me at my most distraught, it will probably look different than how you feel. You can depict a character with any sort of physicality and decide that's what they do when they're unhappy and that can support a sense of full-realization in the reader.

Or the reverse. The scene is tragic, heartbreaking - insurmountable trauma and devastation. And in the internal narration it is said that the protagonist is sad. JUST sad? That can really say a lot about their mental state.

I am pro-synonym. I think every word evokes a feeling. I think when you are in a relationship with someone and they're visibly upset and you ask them how they're feeling and they say "I'm fine" - that's a weak word that suddenly has a lot of language.

I think when you have gone through a terrible situation that could've potentially ruined the rest of your life, and one day someone asks how you feel and you say "happy", that is a weak word that might cause you to break down weeping right then and there.

If you deny yourself any words or descriptors that doesn't sound like Fancy Real Book, you are actively amputating your language for no reason. If you only use Fancy Real Book descriptors without actually seeing if the words are truer to the atmosphere you're trying to create, you run the risk of an inauthentic finished product.

You are actually allowed to play with language and description as much as you want, or at least until you find a dynamic that suits your individual craft. If you are a newer writer I think this is something you should make an actual effort to pursue and see if it sparks something in you. For the love of god, do not limit the scope of your language in writing to what Opinionated People On the Internet say.

I say this again that a lot of the people in online spaces are the next generation of literature. And for that instinct to experiment and play to fade out just because it's 2024 and anyone with wifi now has the tangential authority of an art critic is so genuinely abhorrent to me that if I start talking about it to someone for long enough I can feel myself get a crazed look in my eyes. I need the new writers here to seriously make a pledge to develop a sense of artistic intuition as thoroughly as possible, even in the face of people who are desperate to feel artistically validated online in a way that requires very little effort.

It is hard, I won't lie. It takes a lot of work. It took me probably over a decade to get to the point where I feel like I can write with intent in virtually every medium. But I swear to god it's worth it.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA? I tried to ruin a small business's reputation.

[20F] I went to a clothing store in which they sew the clothes themselves. There is a number of designs and colors you could choose from and if your size isn't available or you wanted to add your own spin on it, they can make one on request but it's basically 40% more expensive. And you're supposed to pay percentage of the price as a down payment in case they make the dress and you fail to pick it up.

Such businesses are common in my country and it was my first time going to this particular place. I'm plus size and tend to have the clothes tailored to my specific size because my size is rare.

Anyway, there was a very killer design that I loved for an outfit that was basically a skirt and a lab coat sorta look. I tried the available size but it was too tight on me so I asked them make one with my measurements and while I was at it, I chose the blue color which is my favorite. 💙 I clearly said blue and nodded when they grabbed the blue fabric. The outfit costs what would be about 120$ and I foolishly chose to pay around 80$ because I didn't have change on me and down payments are cash only, they don't accept credit cards. And by the way, that's a LOT of money in our currency but I thought nothing of it as I was never let down before by these businesses and I needed the outfit to be more comfortable at work.

Not sure what happened but when I came to pick it up, the outfit was gray. 👎 I said that wasn't what I ordered and the cashier gaslighted me into believing I chose gray and for a split second I started believing I somehow chose gray because the blue fabric was kinda pale, then I noticed the pale blue fabric right behind the gray one and pointed at it telling them it was my order and I stood my ground and insisted my order was blue. We kept arguing back and fourth and I told her to make another one. She refused because "the business will lose if they do that." I said that's not my problem and I want the blue outfit, they can put this one for sale to mitigate the loss. She refused because they will have to sell it for a cheaper price plus I was too fat and nobody will probably look for this specific size and once again said it wasn't my problem. She said it was criminal of me to deny "a perfectly great outfit" just based on its color and I told her blue was my favorite color and I refuse to leave without them agreeing to make a new order order, I certainly would have just left if I haven't paid that down payment.

Then she decided to pin the blame of her mistake (she was the one who took my order) on the expat tailor and tried to make him responsible for paying for the difference. I was unsure of what to do and I didn't want the poor overworked guy to pick the slack for someone else but at the same time I wanted the blue outfit. Seeing that I was firm she basically said she would give me a discount. I refused multiple times while she insisted.

Honestly I'm a socially anxious weak pushover that only very recently started learning and practicing to stand on my own that I was surprised I had stayed firm during this whole ordeal, but I was reaching a limit and the employee was clearly stronger than me. She wore me out and basically got me to accept the discount against my will. The discount was only about 15$ and I left very unsatisfied and upset. I complained go my sister who was with me when I made the order and she told me I was absolutely scammed and she wished she was there when I picked it up to stand up for me. I felt upset and taken advantage of, I was too disgusted by the outfit and I ended up only wearing it twice. I have no problem with gray by itself but this whole experience absolutely ruined it for me and I relapsed into feeling absolutely weak and useless like I used to be my whole life.

Apologies if I had done any AH move so far but if there was, I think I was justified but here's the AITA part of the story: in my frustration I opened their Google page to write a bad review but was shocked the page didn't even exist so I turned to their Anstagram page and I wrote several bad reviews and complains ON EVERY SINGLE POST THEY MADE. I wanted people to be aware of the problem. I also told everyone I knew. I say "tried" in the title because my attempt didn't even impact them, they didn't bother contacting me after I spammed their page with probably 40 negative comments and the business is still going strong.

AITA?