#but i think all those chinese history books my mom made us read as kids rubbed off

[spacecravat]

for good omens s3 i hope we get to see crowley with REALLY long hair, waist length or longer. just luxurious long locks pooling around him

[americangirlstar]

Now that both Courtney books are out and I’ve read and processed them both, I do want to say that I think they’re the least well-written of any of the AG books, but not through any fault of their own- let me explain.

(Note that for this discussion I’m ignoring the Doylist criticisms- Courtney and 3/4 of her friend group being white again, the lack of gay discussion in-text in regards to the HIV crisis, etc. These are valid complaints and concerns, but not what we’re talking about right now.)

The Problem with the Current Book Length

I think the main problem with Courtney stems from the fact her books are so short. American Girl has literally been doing the stupidest things in regards to their books lately, almost as if they’re trying to sabotage them on purpose. First they remove illustrations in 2015- when their target audience is about nine years old. I don’t know about you, but when I was six and getting into American Girl, the illustrations were the highlight for me. Not because I had no attention span and loved pretty pictures, but because it showed me firstly what the girl’s life was like, whether it be 1760s wilderness or 2001 Chicago. It was like stepping into their world, really helping you get into their heads, which was basically what the dolls were supposed to do, to let you know that girls like you exist throughout time and space.

As well as that, the illustrations were free advertisement. I can’t tell you how excited me and my sisters were as children to go to the American Girl place and look at the doll displays, shouting that that’s the dress Felicity wears to the ball! or look, Josefina’s goat looks exactly like the book! AG cut that from 2015 to 2020, as if they were trying to appeal to an older audience- while at the same time changing all the doll outfits, accessories and marketing to appeal to a younger demographic.

Now, this isn’t about the illustrations, as Courtney got those- it’s about what they did to the historical characters after the Illustration Outrage™ happened. See, they’d condensed the historical six-book format into two books- not necessarily a bad idea, parents would be more likely to buy two books for their kid than consider buying six. However, they then claimed that if they put illustrations back, they would have to abridge the books- literally my nightmare.

First of all, American Girl, we know for a fact you can fit all six books plus illustrations into ONE VOLUME, let alone two. You’re just being cowards here and trying to nerf your own stories for... some reason.

So that meant a lot of important things got cut- Rebecca’s Chanukah story, Melody’s cousin’s house search, Maryellen’s Christmas adventure... all things important to the girls’ histories and character.

The Problem with Courtney’s Writing

Now, Courtney was the first doll to be released after the abridging began, meaning her books were released, in their entirety, just as short as the abridged stories. So it basically means she gets four books while the others get six- and unlike the others, Courtney doesn’t even have mysteries or short stories to pad out. (And honestly, looking at her book’s amount of content, I’d even argue that she basically got two while everyone else got six, but I digress.)

The problem with her books isn’t that they have an author writing them poorly (I really feel like her author was doing the best with what limited time she had), but in how cramped American Girl made them. Because, well, Courtney has to deal with a lot in such a short amount of words.

Let’s compare her to Julie, for instance- Julie pretty much has a new 70s thing every book. In order: feminism, rising divorce rates, San Francisco’s Chinese culture, environmentalism, the country’s bicentennial, anti-bullying and deaf acceptance. And adding to this, we also have her own personal journies through her parents’ divorce and move, her basketball team, her friendship with Ivy (and later Joy), overcoming her fear of horses, student council, detention... It’s a lot, and yet her books don’t feel rushed or forced at all. It’s just a year in the life of a girl going through a lot of new and sudden events, and how she grows and changes throughout them. She may not be as deep a character as Addy or Kirsten, but not every girl goes through the trials and tribulations they do, and it’s a good series overall.

Courtney, meanwhile, does feel rushed and forced, because of the short timespan. Instead of fitting everything into a six-book format- or even at two-book format that is the same length and content as the six-book- everything has to be fit into two short books.   Everything Courtney has to cover includes the topics of divorce and stepfamilies, feminist and technological advancement, the Challenger explosion, the HIV crisis, Hands Across America, and the founding of Pleasant Company. And in Courtney’s own journey, she has to cover her learning to stand up for herself, her relationship with her stepsister and Tina’s own character development, her mother running for mayor and how that affects her, how much she misses her Dad after he moves, her friendship with Sarah (note on that later), her basically getting hate-crimed after standing up for her friend... that’s a LOT of stuff, and I didn’t even include the non-AG 80s product placement they shove into her collection.

But without the longer format, everything is pushed together to its detriment. Tina’s development and Maureen’s mayoral candidacy are two plotlines that are literally dropped and almost completely ignored in the second book. The Challenger and HIV issues were handled decently, but the Challenger only lasted a few short chapters, and the HIV topic was not as informative as it could be, leaving out several things like Reagan’s refusal to treat it for so long, and its effect on the gay community. Honestly, the HIV scare was more shifted to focus on the mob mentality of a new and scary disease- which, while needed right now, also ignores many of the bigotry-related reasons it became an epidemic. Pleasant Company’s inclusion feels forced in, and I think was the only resolution she had to her Dad plotline?

And don’t get me started on the Sarah plotline- every Girl of the Year since Kanani- sans Isabelle and Luci- has had the story of “oh no I’ve been ignoring my friend and now they’re mad at me :(” and it’s SO old. Seriously, I counted the contemporary dolls that have had that storyline, and it’s thirteen*. Thirteen times we’ve covered this issue- almost all of it in quick succession- and now we have to deal with it in a historical character book while much more important things are going on! Yes, it sucks when a friend ditches you while you’re being attacked and bullied for something you’re standing up for, but once again, with how much is happening in such a short book, it just feels like a forced-in plotline that we’ve seen a billion times, and with their falling-out happening mainly due to the attention Courtney was given Isaac, it serves to make Sarah seem closed-minded at best and bigoted at worst- it’s clarified that she’s not, she’s just scared and upset with Courtney, but when you put those events so close together, it leads the reader to lump them together and get the impression that, you know, Sarah is a worse person than she is.

*Full count: Nicki (book 2), Chrissa (book 2), Kanani (2), McKenna (1 iirc?), Saige (both books), Grace (2), Lea (3), Gabriela (1 and 3), Tenney (2), Z (1), Blaire (1), Joss (1) and Kira (1).

It’s a bit weird, too, that Courtney’s... what’s the word? Vibe? with her how her story is written and marketed Is closer to the Contemporaries than the Historicals. Am I the only one feeling this? My best explanation for it is that the author, Kellen Hertz, had only written contemporary books for American Girl before- the third Lea Clark book and all four Tenney Grant books, both of which contained the Friendship Issues™ plot. I’m not at all saying she’s a bad author- I honestly love the way the Tenney books are written- and I’m not saying she couldn’t write a historical book, but it’s clear American Girl didn’t ask her to change up her style or content from what she’d done for them before, as well as giving her way too much to cover in such short books.

Conclusion

Honestly, this conclusion should be obvious- American Girl needs to expand their books again. Whether they simply allow the books to be unabridged, or go back to the six-book format, Courtney's books are too cramped to tell an effective story, let alone the poor abridged girls.

The other girls were given six-book length, so if they went back to that length or format, Courtney would have to be rewritten, at least a little- and that’s okay! There’s a lot of things that could use expansion or connection, such as her Summer trip with her Dad that was given basically one sentence in the text. Her growth with her stepfamily could be acknowledged- and honestly? I think that if these books were expanded, her mother’s mayoral arc should either continue through the books, or Maureen should become mayor before the book 2 arc. I’ve mentioned this before, but having Maureen as mayor (or even still a candidate) would put a lot of pressure on Courtney to be perfect so that nobody can say “look at how awful this woman is for doing politics instead of raising her family right”- which means that when the Isaac stuff happens, it has even more stakes for Courtney and her family. Does her Mom still support her with her own reputation on the line, and what does that say about Maureen’s character, how does it affect Courtney and the D’Amicos... that’s all fascinating stuff that was completely missed out on.

And if she was turned into a six-book format- honestly, here’s how I’d do it, just off the top of my head. It would involve a bit of event shuffling, but honestly I think it would work!

Meet Courtney - pretty much the setup for everything happening, her starting to get her Crystal Starshooter plans and her mom’s campaign beginning.

Courtney Learns a Lesson - her relationship to Tina, culminating in the Challenger incident.

Courtney’s Surprise - we move the founding of Pleasant Company over here, since Molly’s basically her Christmas Present. We’ll probably need an additional plotline- maybe similar to Julie, she can have a story on spending the holidays in different places.

Happy Birthday Courtney - end of summer, aka meeting Isaac and her trip with her Dad.

Courtney Saves the Day - Beginning of the HIV arc, ending at her presentation to her class.

Changes for Courtney - Continuation of the HIV arc as things get worse for her and Isaac, ending where Friendship Superhero ends.

Is that a perfect sorting? Probably not, I came up with it in ten minutes. But would it give Courtney space to breathe and more time to explore everything happening to her? Probably!

The tl;dr of this is honestly that American Girl are absolute cowards right now, and need to expand their books back. Their abridging is only harming their stories- which, as Courtney herself points out, are the reason girls got into their company in the first place.

[yikesharringrove]

I have a headcanon that Billy doesn"t really know how to apologize like most people do. To him, the words are kind of empty so he just does things for people instead. Things like replacing all of the dishes with better quality ones for the Byers, making the girliest clothes Max hates disappear and replaced with things she likes, a new slingshot showing up in Lucas's locker, breaking into a car to fix it. Steve is weirdly charmed by it.

These may both be you? But here’s a combo since they’re p much the same idea

anonymous asked: Billy has forgotten how to actually connect with people so he shows affection through acts of chaotic good, like planting catnip all over the yard of the lady who allergic for yellomg at Max or breaking into a car so he can fix the engine. Steve figures out Billy is the one doing all these oddly kind things but he is still kind of intimidated by the blonde so instead of thanking him out right he just leaves things like cigarettes and baked good for him in his car. Have fun with that one!

This got pretty long so I put some of it under the cut.

-

Billy didn’t believe in the words I’m sorry.

They just didn’t make sense  to him. He had never heard the words when someone actually meant them, and fuck knows he’s never actually meant those words before.

But that does not mean there aren’t things in his life he regrets.

For example: beating the shit outta Steve Harrington.

He felt like absolute fucking garbage about it. 

Harrington hadn’t deserved that shit. Billy was just runnin’ hot that night, and Harrington had been unlucky enough to have bad timing.

But he didn’t know how to fix it.

So he started leaving snacks in Steve’s locker.

He noticed how he would always be giving his friends the food off his fucking plate, so he would shove granola bars, candies, even made him a sandwich one day.

He watched as Steve would eat whatever it was Billy had left for him, just fuckin’ chowed down without question.

He would look into classes, find out where Steve sat and leave little treats on his desk.

“Mr. Harrington, I think you may have a secret admirer.” Steve flushed a little at the cupcake, and shoved it into his mouth in two bites at the beginning of history class, but he wasn’t gonna look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak, and figured whenever this chick came forward, he would thank her for being so thoughtful, and let her down gently.

-

After leaving Harrington alone with all his snacks, Billy set his sights on his other regret.

He had Max hadn’t always fought and bickered. True, Billy wasn’t the warmest, when they first met, but once he got his car they would drive around together a lot. He’d take her to the arcade and the boardwalk. They both didn’t like being home too much.

So when Billy’s informed he’ll be watching Max for the weekend while Neil takes Susan to the city, he forms a little plan.

There’s one Chinese restaurant in Hawkins. It’s totally not authentic, not like the dim sum they used to get wandering around San Fransisco, but they had steamed pork buns and Billy picked up eight.

He let Max do whatever she wanted that weekend, figured they would have better luck with one another if they both acted like outdoor cats, coming and going as they pleased, but come Sunday evening, all the pork buns were gone, and there was an unopened pack of cigarettes on his nightstand.

-

Regret number three: Lucas Sinclair.

Billy probably felt the most fucked up over this kid.

He’d gone after him, a fucking child, in his blind rage.

He had figured that out when he came to on the floor of that weird house, sitting up empty and alone, realizing I’m just like Neil.

He had seen all those kids with their nerdy toys, went out to RadioShack, early Sunday morning, leaving with a light wallet and a new idea.

Dustin was arguing with Mike over the realism of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, like there was anything realistic about it.

Lucas rolled his eyes, opening his locker, his mouth dropping open when he saw something inside.

He pulled the bag out, peering inside.

There were six brand new walkie talkies inside.

They were better than the ones they already used, had further range and more channels.

Everyone went silent.

“Um, these aren’t mine.”

Max’s eyes went wide. She snatched something up from the top shelf of Lucas’s locker.

The new Wrist Rocket had a note attached to it. She knows this handwriting, but couldn’t place it.

Enjoy the new gear. Don’t quit saving the world.

“Do you think they’re from Steve?”Max furrowed her brows at the note.

And then everything clunked into place.

“Maybe.”

The boys were tearing into the new walkies.

She got two cokes from the vending machine at lunch, handing one quietly to Billy when she got in his car after school.

-

Billy doesn’t really know what he’s doing here.

He had driven Max to one of her nerdy little friend’s houses, and somehow he got roped into staying? He doesn’t even remember.

But now he’s standing with a short kind woman, in the exact kitchen he beat the shit out of Harrington in, with Steve himself leaning against the other wall, watching the kids like some kinda hawk.

Billy’s hands were shaky, and he inserted himself into washing dishes from dinner.

He noticed most of them had chips, and all of them were mismatched. He put them away quietly, and drove to the nearest home goods store he could find.

Ceramic plates didn’t run too much, and he got a nice set of three different sizes, twelve plates of each size, light blue like the one he broke.

He left them on the porch, parked his car down the road a ways.

He rang the doorbell, sprinting and diving into the bushes before anyone can see him.

He watched as one of the sons, the one his age, the one in his English literature class, opened the door, his brow furrowing at the box of new plates.

“Um, Mom? Somebody left us a set of plates?”

He closed the door, but the took the plates with him.

-

Billy was sitting on the lawn, had just finished raking up all the damn leaves, and was taking a well-earned smoke break as he watched Max skating up and down the street, practicing her kickflips and ollies.

She cut into the driveway across the street, the only one on the entire block that was well paved, no cracks in the cement.

“Get out of here!” Max started as Mrs. Reynolds, a mean old woman was shouting through her screen door. “You little hooligan! You’re going to leave marks!”

Max bit her lip, trying not to laugh as she boarded back over to their house, standing next to Billy.

“I’ll be having a word with your father!” She rolled her eyes as Billy ground his jaw.

Cat nip was way more expensive than Billy was expecting, but he bought plenty of packages, returning home just past sunset.

He waited until about three in the morning, when Mrs. Reynolds’ sprinklers had finally turned back off before he climbed out his window, spreading the cat nip through her yard.

He flipped her house the bird.

Max was awed at the cats the next morning as Billy drove them both to school.

There must’ve been at least a hundred.

“Isn’t Mrs. Reynolds allergic?” Billy tried not to laugh.

“Damn. That sucks for her.”

-

Billy was sitting on the hood of his car, reading one of his lit books while he waited for Max to get out of her nerd club.

He startled a little bit when someone knocked on the hood.

And it was Harrington, smiling sheepishly at Billy.

“The Byers got some new plates last night. You know anything about that?” Billy tracked the thin scar on Steve’s head. It disappeared into his hairline. Billy wonders how long he had sat in front of a mirror, picking glass out of his thick hair.

“Who’re the Byers?” Steve huffed a laugh.

-

Max was standing in front of the mirror looking like a grumpy old cat.

Susan had bought her a lovely new dress, and Max fucking hated it. Susan was fussing over it, saying I ordered it from the Sears catalog! and can you believe it was only fifteen dollars?

Billy slipped a five and a ten into Susan’s purse later that day, taking the dress to the Goodwill downtown.

He found Max a couple crappy t-shirts there, bands she would hum to on the radio, shit like Journey and Foreigner, and slid them into her closet where the dress used to be.

She wore one the next day, blinking slowly at him over breakfast.

He avoided all eye contact.

-

Steve has long legs.

this was of course something Billy always knew, but watching him stalk in all his righteous fury down the street towards the high school really solidified that fact for Billy.

He was stomping, his strides long as he hustled to class. Billy thought about offering him a ride, didn’t think they were there yet.

Billy found himself in Steve’s driveway later that night, popping the hood of Steve’s dead car and searching over everything with a flashlight.

Billy rolled his eyes.

Steve had probably always paid someone else when his car broke down, didn’t realize if your oil was low, your car wouldn’t work.

Billy kept a few cans in his trunk, refilled the bad boy for Steve, making sure that was it.

He found nothing else wrong and Steve pulled into the school parking lot the next morning.

Billy could feel Steve staring at him when he walked into school.

He found Steve sitting on his car at lunch, holding the sandwich Billy had snuck into his locker, and a loaf of bread wrapped in cling film. .

Billy raised an eyebrow.

“I saw you last night.” His cheeks went hot. “Thanks for fixing my car. And all the snacks and stuff. And for the Byers’ plates. And for all the stuff with Max.”

“Nothin’s happened with Max.” Steve appraised him for a moment.

“She said you’re being nicer.” He held up the bread. “Homemade banana bread. Made it while you were being not at all stealthy fixing my car.” He smiled at Billy, one a’ those perfect sunshine smiles Billy had only ever seen Steve direct towards his kids.

“I just changed your oil. Car won’t run if you don’t got oil.” Steve furrowed his brow.

“My gas tank was full. I had just filled it.”

“Nah Pretty Boy, oil. It’s different.” And Billy took a deep breath. “Could show you, if you like. Teach you some basic car shit. How to jump, how to change a tire.”

Steve beamed at him.

“I’d like that! I don’t know shit about fixing cars. Always figured it would go way over my head.”

“It’s pretty easy. There’s usually only a few major things that go wrong in nice cars that are easy fixes. You’ll figure it out quick.” Steve slid off his car, and Billy lamented that for a minute, liked how Steve looked perched on Billy’s car, wondered how he’d look in the passenger seat, in the backseat-

Steve pushed the bread into Billy’s hands.

“Y’know, I forgive you. For that night.” Billy tightened his jaw. Steve’s eyes were a little green in the sun. “There was a lot goin’ on, and I was being sketchy. I don’t hold it against you.”

“I, uh, thanks, I guess. I’m sorry, about it.” Steve smiled at him again, the corners of his eyes crinkling just a bit.

“Yeah, I know.” Steve took a bite of his sandwich, his cheeks all cute and full. “And I’m more of a ham and cheese fan.” Billy rolled his eyes at Steve, taking with his mouth full of turkey sandwich.

“Sorry man, you get what Susan buys.” Steve laughed, his mouth still full. Billy was uncomfortably endeared by it.

“Don’t be surprised to find some lasagna on your porch one night soon.” And Steve winked at him, walking backwards towards the school. “You’re not so bad, Billy.”

“Tryin’ not to be.” Steve gave him a stupid little finger gun. Billy’s heart melted.

“You’re doin’ a good job.” And Steve set off back into the school.

[drwcn]

Hi! I hope you are doing okay with all the discourse going around. Im white and raised in a very white society so i will never have a say in it, but i was wondering, is there any way i can educate myself more in asian/chinese culture? Im aware i consume content thru western lens and because of that i dont really get all the nuances of the shows, but i would like to have at least some backround. Im guessing just watching the shows doesnt give enough of that, can you maybe reccommend some blogs or books to check out? (If you dont thats totally fine and im sorry if i said anything offensive)

Hey friend! Not offensive at all, no worries. Honestly, I’m not too sure. I think just keeping an open mind about things is a really good start. I’m not really sure which blogs to recommend but if I could recommend some dramas? Since it’s probably easier to watch a show then read a book?

《The Story of Minglan》 is a good one to sort of parse out the intricacy of historical Chinese society in the Song Dynasty, keeping in mind that different dynasties have different practices, so even amongst different time periods there were differences. 《The Story of Yanxi Palace》 is another good one for Qing Dynasty (circa 1740s) if you wanna get into imperial harem stuff. (Or you can watch 《甄嬛传》 or 《如懿传》 for harem stuff. I just think The Story of Yanxi Palace is the most palatable, most aesthetic, and most fun out of the three. The other two are kinda tragic?) There are other dramas but I feel they’re not as... accessible?

Chinese historical dramas come in 3 flavours: serious dramas, idol dramas, and those that ride the fence. What I mean by idol drama is...everyone in it is young and hot and the writing is eh and the acting is eh. More often then not there’s a lot of modern elements to it. The Untamed is so popular because it’s idol drama done really well.  (xianxia and wuxia genre used to be more quality when I was a kid, but now they’re kind of ehhhh.) I would say Minglan and Yanxi are both successful because they ride the fence. 

On the other hand, serious historical drama has A LOT of politics and can be quite dry especially if you’re watching it through half-assed subtitles. The actors typically are more seasoned, older. People jokingly say that idol drama is what mom watches and serious drama is what dad watches, and honestly given my parents’ tv habits...it’s pretty accurate 😂.

Some really well known ones from the past 20 years are: 

The 《铁齿铜牙纪晓岚》 series 1-4. I would only recommend part 1-2, 3-4 are not as great. This one has quite a bit of humour but it might fly over your head a bit because of the language barrier. The story surrounds a well known government official and scholar named Ji Xiaolan  纪晓岚, his frenemy and colleague the (EXTREMELY corrupt) prime minister He Shen, and the Emperor Qianlong. For better or worse these three are depicted as both liege and subjects as well as friends. Trying to see Ji Xiaolan and He Shen one up each other while Qianlong tries to balance his court and rule the country is quite interesting. I won’t pretend this is an easy series to follow, but it’s actually quite fun. 

《汉武大帝》 - is about Hanwu Emperor of the Han Dynasty circa 150 BC? He’s one of the most famous emperors of distant history. It’s basically about the course of his life and the many people that featured in it. 

《大明王朝 》- my memories of this one is very vague, but it is about the Ming Dynasty (the dynasty before the Qing Dynasty c. 1500,1600.) 

《The Advisors Alliance 军事联盟》-  2017 two-part television series based on the life of Sima Yi, a government official and military general who lived in the late Eastern Han dynasty and Three Kingdoms period of China. circa 150 AD. 

As a side note, a lot of serious dramas for a while now have been focused on the Qing Dynasty, just because it’s the last imperial dynasty before Imperial China fell into decline, WWI and WWII ravaged the country and communism happened. Even a lot of idol drama are about the Qing Dynasty (I feel like I should do a post about this, just to string things together haha). 

So for the Qing Dynasty, because they are Manchurian, their last name is Aisin Gioro or in Chinese Aixin Jueluo 爱新觉罗. Their earlier emperors are much more well known than their later ones and have been the focus of MANY dramas. (You’ll notice their names in the beginning spell very different than the Chinese names you’re used to, but once they take over China, the emperors’ names start to become more and more mainland Chinese and less and less Manchurian.) 

Nu’er Hachi 努尔哈赤/ Nurhaci - The granddaddy of Qing Dynasty, but was never officially Emperor of China during his life time. 

Huang Taiji 皇太极 - Nurhaci’s oldest son. He led the campaign against the Ming Dynasty but died before the campaign was over 

Fulin 福林, Emperor Shunzhi 顺治 - Huang Taiji’s 9th son. He is the real first Emperor of the Qing Dynasty. His uncle Duo’Ergun 多尔衮/ Dorgon was his regent as well as his commander-in-chief. Dorgon was the one who won the war against the Ming Dynasty and instated his nephew as the Emperor. Fulin was 6 years old when this happened, and now you may wonder why the fuck is that? It’s because Fulin’s mother, Huang Taijii’s widowed concubine Consort Zhuang (name: pu’erji-jite bumubutai  (pinyin) 博爾濟吉特 布木布泰/ Bumbutai Borjigit, Da-Yu’er 大玉儿) remarried her brother-in-law Dorgon. Whether Bumbutai and Dorgon were actually in love is....contestable. Certainly one of my favourite serious dramas that depict this part of history is《大青风云》. 

Xuanye 玄燁, Emperor Kangxi 康熙 - Fulin’s third son. Very famous. Very long reign. Serious drama associated 《康熙微服私访记》， 《康熙王朝》

Yinzhen 胤禛, Emperor Yongzheng 雍正 - Xuanye's 4th son. His reign was highly contested because some ppl believed he forged the succession document. It’s probably not true. He was an efficient emperor but very austere, very severe. Not well liked. The best serious drama about him is probably 《雍正王朝》and the aforementioned《甄嬛传》. The former is 100% politics and a fictional re-telling of historical events whereas the latter is 100% harem drama and 100% made up. 《步步惊心》is an idol drama about a girl who transmigrated back to this time and fell in love with Yinzhen. Lol. 

Hongli 弘历, Emperor Qianlong 乾隆 - Yinzhen’s 4th son. I think he’s the longest living/reigning emperor of Chinese history. SOOOOO many dramas were made about him or set in his reign. Of the serious drama category:  《铁齿铜牙纪晓岚》 that I mentioned earlier is really good. There are others but I won’t name them here.  《如懿传》 is a serious drama about his harem, but really terrible? I really didn’t like it (just my personal view). Incidentally it was released around the same time as《The Story of Yanxi Palace 延禧攻略》which is also about his harem and MUCH better in my opinion, because the actor for Hongli in Yanxi is much better skills-wise. 《还珠格格》was the OG idol drama about Hongli’s children. I gave a brief synopsis about it here. It was made in the 90s but damn...so nostalgic. 

There’s many more emperors after him, but they’re not as important. 

Okay yeah, so I’m not sure if any of this is really helpful, but definitely watching serious drama gives you much better context and understanding of Chinese culture than idol drama. I mean when the drama has flying and magic...the historical relevance sort of falls to the side. 🤣

ADDENDUM: I made a typo earlier. Fulin is Huang Taiji’s 9th son, not Nurhaci’s son. Also Abahai is Huang Taijii’s mother’s name (wikipedia lied to me on this one XD). 

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Tabula Rasa

Tabula Rasa has 8 stories at Gossamer, but there are even more X-Files fics at AO3 and her website. She writes Mulder and Scully in a very lovely way. I've recced 3 of my favorites of her fics here before: Bird in Snow, Fall: East on M St, and Skuamorph. Big thanks to Tabula Rasa for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

I'm always extremely pleasantly surprised to get kudos (or, very rarely, a comment) on my old fic, but I'm always happy to see it! I did post them all (I think) to AO3. I'm not surprised people are still reading fic, though. It's an iconic show and now with streaming, it's really easy to watch older shows and natural to want fic about them!

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

XF was my first fandom, definitely my first online fandom, and so it will always have a special place in my heart. Also... I had a great time! I stumbled upon and joined the Scullyfic email list by accident, but it was the best thing I could have done. I learned a lot about how to be a writer and how to be in fandom, and those lessons are still important to me. Foundational. Also, in terms of modern fandom drama, XF was more low-key on the drama (although it didn't seem like it at the time!). But I learned something that's always served me well: find like-minded people, and hang out with them. Don't worry about the rest.

Also... you can't control the show, but you kind of can control the canon.

Because of Scully, I ended up taking a forensic anthropology class in university-- and now I have a Master's in a forensic science! Part of the Scully Effect, and proud of it!

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Definitely mostly email list! I never really got the hang of message boards. Posting fic was exhausting, and tbh I never figured out how to work Ephemeral. I checked it every day, though! I loved, after a new episode, everyone sending in their thoughts and reading everyone's experiences together. Fandom was a lot more work back then, tbh!

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

That fic can be just as good, or better, than traditionally published works. There are works of XF fic that have stuck with me for years now, far more than some books I've read. That fan writers can know the characters better than the show writers. The fandom in general was really smart, and mostly more adult than me (I joined fandom when I went away to college, so I always felt at the younger end of the scale. That was good though!).

Also, my first time reading and writing porn. Not gonna lie, I was shocked the first time I accidentally read smut. But I adjusted fast. lol

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I was still a kid (now we would say preteen) when the show premiered- I think in middle school. But I was already into ghosts, aliens, monsters, solving mysteries, and I'd already imprinted on the dynamic thanks to Square One (really)! I was also just old enough to start developing celebrity crushes. Hilariously, I did not twig to the fact that I'm bisexual the entire time I was in XF fandom, despite having enormous crushes on BOTH Mulder and Scully. Ahhhh!

Also, my whole family was into the show, but I was definitely the one with the hyperfixation. I used to take notes and record the episodes as I watched. It just had the right stuff and hit at the right time. And I've always been obsessive.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

As a kid I also really liked Star Trek, and someone had given my dad a book about the history of Star Trek, which I read. This included mentions of fandom and fanfic. As soon as I had a private-- and perhaps more importantly fast-- internet connection (in college), I went looking for XF fanfic, and that was that. Hooked immediately. Also I shipped them A LOT so that's what I went looking for.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

I tend to not go back to a fandom once I have a new fandom, so I wouldn't say I'm in it. I did hang around the edges for the revival, of course, because I wanted to experience that with the same people, but since the revival was mostly not that great (with a few exceptions), I didn't get pulled back into it. But I still think of the people I knew in the fandom a lot, and always hope they're doing well.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I've never left fandom, and I've been in a BUNCH: Harry Potter, Doctor Who, Bandom, Supernatural, now CQL/The Untamed and other Chinese-media fandoms, with many smaller ones in between or on the side. I feel like at their core fandoms tend to be similar, although where you host the fandom makes a big difference: Livejournal, tumblr, twitter. I think that because fandoms now tend to be bigger and more diverse (which is good) there tends to be more wank (which is bad). In some of them I was close to a group of people, some of them not. Honestly the best thing is when someone you know from an old fandom is in your new fandom. It's so much fun. I have really good friends thanks to fandom, and I've had them for YEARS. Like. 15 years.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

I tend to focus more on ships than characters, but some of my all-time favs: Scully, Hermione, Sirius Black, Castiel, Lan Wangji, Xie Lian. That's just fandom-oriented ones, otherwise we'd be here all day. :D

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I don't often rewatch episodes any more, although if I come across an ep on tv I might. I definitely still think about them though! For example, I'm a teacher now, and just a couple weeks ago one of my colleagues mentioned he'd heard the students saying they shipped two of their classmates, and he was like "Ship? I don't get it" and I was like "HOO BOY, do I have a story for you!" And I explained how shipping came from XF fandom, and why. That was fun. I definitely still think about Mulder and Scully too-- I mean, they're cultural touchstones, so they do come up sometimes in greater pop culture. Also, I was in Hannibal fandom for a while, and Gillian Anderson is still The Best.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I haven't read XF fic in years, even the ones I remember as being really significant/important to me. I still have my all-time favs saved on an external HD though! Fic in another fandom- every day lol.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

Blinded by White Light by DashaK has stuck with me. Mr. and Mrs. Smith and the Ruby-Throated Warbler by I forget I'm so sorry -- that's lasted as my ideal post-canon MSR and as an interesting and different way to tell a story.  [Lilydale note: It’s by rah.] I was always thrilled to see fic by Brandon, JET, MaybeAmanda, Syntax6... and, frankly, everyone on the Scullyfic/ Emuse list. So many talented people in that fandom!

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Things Outside, which is the only thing I've ever written based on a dream, and I'm really satisfied with it. It was hard to write but so much fun to revel in the weirdness. I always kind of wanted to write more because I know a lot more about the situation, but otoh, I like the open, ambiguous ending (usually I am very HEA).

In other fandoms, King & Country in bandom (MCR) and in Supernatural I'm very proud of Hope and Clay. I struggle to write casefics even though I love to read them, but that one really worked out.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I don't think I'll ever write something new. There is an old fic that may be done but it was smut so I was too shy to post it at the time. In theory if I find it and it's decent, I could post it!

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I do! I write fic very slowly, but I do write still! I have a million ideas for stories, but I'm so slow at the actual writing part.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

I usually take a jumping-off point from canon, or of course, something I need to fix or expand on. Or sometimes I start telling myself a story as I fall asleep and the idea grabs me long enough I can manage to write it.

What's the story behind your pen name?

I was getting into fandom and realized people didn't use their real names. I flipped through my history book looking for inspiration, and decided tabula rasa was a great name for a writer. I tend to add an X because it's rare to get "tabularasa" as a username, and the X is indeed for X-Files (so I'm something like tabulaxrasa most places). I usually go by Tabula Rasa or Tab, though. And I still use it because 1) it IS a great name for a writer; and 2) it's not fandom-specific so I can keep it in every fandom.

I identify with it so much I have answered to this name in class (oops). I have a "Tab" t-shirt (as in the soda, but I have worn it to Comic-Con for ease of ID-- better than a nametag!). And my mom got me a necklace with a "tab" typewriter key as a charm, which I adore. Yes, I have accidental merch of myself.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

As you can tell from the above, my family knows (my family being my parents and sister). They are supportive! I think my mom read a couple stories? But obviously she has to know the fandom to get it... I got my sister into fic, and we even wrote a couple fics together (in Gundam Wing). She's a lot more selective about fandoms, but she's joined fandoms on her own, too. She's just not in one constantly, like me. :p

I tend not to tell not-online friends unless I have felt them out and know they're super fannish, or they bring it up first.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Most of my old fic is now on AO3 and I hang out on twitter a lot, @tabula_x_rasa

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

I'm really glad people are still in this fandom! It will always be so important to me. Thank you Lilydale, for this nostalgia trip!

(Posted by Lilydale on March 30, 2021)

[auror-lovie]

Fairytale: Fairytale (Newt Scamander)

━━━•✦.✧. Author’s Note.✧.✦•━

It’s a little sad :(

If you want to be added to my taglist, just send me an ask, PM, or fill out the taglist form.

The playlist should be linked up on "Find Playlists Here" under "Fairytale" in my bio.

━━━━━•✦.✧. About .✧.✦•━

After taking Grindelwald down, (Y/N) was nowhere to be found. Five years later, Newt is on babysitting duty and he tells the kids the story of a lost fairytale.

━━━━━•✦.✧. Notes .✧.✦•━

Word Count: 2.1k

Smol Angst.

Character Death

So… I’m learning Tagalog. If there are any Tagalog speakers out there that read this, tell me if anything is grammatically incorrect. I’m really nervous. Translations will be provided next to the phrase in italics.

References to “I Loved You, Mr. Scamander”

Surprise at the end~

━━━•✦.✧. Disclaimer .✧.✦•━

Let’s pretend that it only takes two years to take down Grindelwald and his organization after the events of Crimes of Grindelwald.

━━━━━━•✦.✧.☾.✧.✦•━━━━━

|| general masterlist || series masterlist ||

Fairytale: Fairytale (Newt Scamander x Reader)

━━━━━━•✦.✧.☾.✧.✦•━━━━━

It took only a couple years after what happened in Paris to fully take down Grindelwald. Leta was killed in the final battle and that left Theseus in shambles. When he returned to London, he apparated to a lonely flat. The place where the only person who would understand his pain lived- Victoria.

From there, the rest was history.

•✦.✧.☾.✧.✦•

“Thanks for watching the kids, Newt. Theseus and I needed a day off.” Victoria said as her kids ran in the living room of Newt’s flat.

Theseus sighed. “Mei Anne Mendoza Scamander. Thaddeus Alden Mendoza Scamander, please stop running around. You’re sure to break something.”

Newt glanced at Theseus, his niece and nephew before looking back at Victoria. “It’s no problem. You know I love watching them…” He thought for a moment, “Merlin, those are long names…”

Victoria gave Newt a look, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re one to talk, Newton Artemis Fido Scama-”

He chuckled, “Okay, okay. Point taken. Now off you go before you end up missing your reservation.”

Theseus walked over to Victoria, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Vi… Do something.”

Victoria smiled. “Watch and learn.” She slowly got out of Theseus’ embrace and walked to where the kitchen met the living room. Her children were still running around, laughing at their game of tag. Victoria giggled softly before clicking her tongue.

In a blink of an eye, Mei Anne and Thaddeus stopped and looked at their mother.

“Halika dito,” ‘Come here’ She said calmly. Mei Anne and Thaddeus slowly made their way to their mother.

“See what you did?” Thaddeus whispered to his sister.

“Me? You started running!” Mei Anne replied.

When the pair stood in front of their mother, they could feel her staring down at them. Victoria squatted, making sure she was at their level.

“Maging mabuti, okay?” ‘Be good?’ Victoria asked.

“Yes, nanay.” ‘Yes, mom.’ They answered.

“Promise?”

“Yes.” They nodded.

Victoria smiled and kissed their foreheads. “Okay, your father and I will see you later then. Don’t give Tito Newt a hard time. You can go back to playing, just stay where he can see you.”

Mei Anne and Thaddeus smiled before going back into the living room and looked at Newt’s bookshelf.

Victoria stood and walked over to the brothers who were staring at her in awe. “Close your mouth boys, you’ll catch flies.”

Newt and Theseus shook out of their amazement. “That’s amazing!” Newt said excitedly.

“I know. I find it fascinating whenever she speaks Tagalog. It seems the children like it when she speaks to them in another language.” Theseus praised.

Victoria rolled her eyes playfully. “Just wait until I teach them Japanese.”

“I thought you were Chinese?” Newt asked.

She hummed. “I am, but my mom and I were never exposed to our Chinese culture whilst we were growing up. She learned Japanese from her caretakers, and I learned it from my mom.”

“You can tell me more about it at dinner,” Theseus suggested.

“Right! Dinner!” Victoria exclaimed. “See you around ten?”

Newt nodded, “See you at ten.”

~*~*~

After showing Mei Anne and Thaddeus all his creatures, and feeding them dinner (Yes, because children need to eat real food Newton), it was time for them to get some sleep.

“But Uncle Newt… We’re not tired…” Thaddeus whined.

“Yeah, I wanna play with the Nifflers again…” Mei Anne added.

With both kids in his arms, he carried them over to the living room and set them down on the couch. “If I don’t get you to bed your mum would lecture me.”

Thaddeus shivered, quickly holding a couch pillow to his chest. “I don’t like mummy’s lecture voice. It’s calm, but something about it is scary.”

Newt chuckled, sitting on the floor in front of them. “How about I tell you a bedtime story.”

Mei Anne nodded. “Will you? We love bedtime stories!”

He nodded, “Alright then… Where do I start…”

Thaddeus cuddled close to his sister for warmth. Mei Anne took the couch blanket and set it over their laps. They both were quiet and attentive.

“It all started a long time ago. When a stable boy fell in love with the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Day after day, he’d go out and pick the best-looking sunflower from the community gardens and gift it to her.”

“These are for you, (Y/N). I hope you like them…” Newt mumbled, holding out a sunflower bouquet.

(Y/N) smiled, playing with the ends of her sleeve. “Newt! How did you know these were my favorite?”

“I remember you saying they were your favorite in Herbology once…”

“But Newt, that was in first year!”

Mei Anne smiled. “I want someone to give me sunflowers!”

Newt chuckled. “Soon they became friends. And even though they couldn’t see it, everyone around them was aware that they were in love.”

Newt turned the corner, looking for the Herbology book he needed for his essay. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help it. “Last time I checked, you were a Ravenclaw this morning,” Victoria asked.

“What are you talking about?”

A pause before he heard (Y/N) speak again. “O-Oh! I was just cold… That’s all…”

Newt put the pieces together- they were talking about how he gave her his robes.

“I was just cold! That’s all..” Victoria mimicked teasingly. “But seriously… Are you ever going to tell him?”

“No, I don’t think I will…”

And that’s when Newt left to find the book he needed. Of course, they quickly changed the subject. Sure, he was the topic of interest for a second, but he knew how Victoria could easily change the subject without the person knowing.

‘She would never like me in that way anyway.’ He thought.

“Although, things started to get in the way of their friendship. In their younger years, the stable boy started being around another girl. He thought he could manage his time between his first love and the new girl, but in the end, he chose to be around the new girl.” Newt sighed as he reminisced on all the missed moments he had with (Y/N).

Mei Anne grumbled. “Ugh. Boys are stupid. Why couldn’t he just tell her!”

Thaddeus looked up to his sister. “I’m not stupid!”

Mei Anne sighed and ruffled his hair. “Okay… Boys are stupid… Except you, Uncle Newt, dad, and Uncle Jacob.”

“Oh, don’t say that. I was… pretty dumb when it came to certain things.” Newt admitted.

“What happened when they got older?” Thaddeus asked, looking back to Newt.

Newt swallowed. He tried to think of a way to explain the past ten years without going into too much detail. “Well… The stable boy got into some trouble and ran away. He kept in touch with his first love through letters, but he was always on the run- looking for new creatures to study. When he finally returned to the village, he found out that his first love had fallen in love with someone else-”

“WHAT? But… But they were in love! How could she just… love someone else…?” Thaddeus interrupted.

“Because she didn’t know! As mum always said, you miss all the shots you don’t take.” Mei Anne added.

“Can I continue the story?” Newt asked, causing the children to stop rambling.

“Thing is… There was a war going on. So the stable boy’s first love had parted with her lover. Within that time, the stable boy and his first love started getting closer. He was so close to confessing his feelings. Until a monster took her away.

“Oooh, I bet it was a scary dragon!!” Thaddeus exclaimed.

“T, it wasn’t a dragon. It was probably some kidnapper!” Mei Anne

Newt sighed. “Hmm… I guess you could say he was a kidnapper. He used his words to trick people into following him. The stable boy spent day after day trying to find his lost love. He vowed that the moment he found her again… They’d have a brand new start.”

“And did he find her?” Mei Anne asked.

“Legend says that he’s still looking for her,” Newt said, ending his story.

KNOCK KNOCK

“And that’s your mum and dad!”

“But!! The story!!!” Thaddeus whined.

Newt stood to open the door, letting Victoria and Theseus inside. “I hope they weren’t too much trouble,” said Theseus.

“Uncle Newt was telling us a story about a stable boy and his first love!” Mei Anne cheered, the feeling of sleep disappearing.

Victoria looked at Newt, “Oh really?”

“Uh-huh! And the stable boy went through so much heartbreak and… His love was kidnapped and the stable boy is still trying to find her.” Thaddeus said, waddling over to his mom.

Theseus walked over to the couch to pick Mei Anne and carry her. “Oh… Such a sad tale. Did the stable boy ever find her?”

Mei Anne shook her head. “No… Uncle Newt said that he’s still trying to find her…”

Victoria sighed and picked up Thaddeus, who was tugging at her skirt and making grabby hands at her. “Yeah… Me too…” She muttered.

~*~*~

Another date night and Newt was on babysitting duty. Not like he minded. A popping sound echoed through the basement.

“I’ll see who it is, Uncle Newt!” Mei Anne yelled as she turned the corner. She saw a woman standing at the bottom of the basement stairs.

The woman looked down at Mei Anne in confusion. “W-Who are you? Where are your parents?”

Mei Anne walked closer to the woman, her eyes ever so observant. She tilted her head to the side when she realized who it was. “Aunty (Y/N)?”

“H-How do you know my name? Who are you?” (Y/N) asked, meeting Mei Anne halfway.

Mei Anne held her ground. “I’ve heard mum talk about you a lot.”

She squatted down to Mei Anne’s height. “So he married Tina, hm?”

“What? Are you talking about Aunty Tina? No… She’s mum’s friend.”

(Y/N) looked closer at the girl in front of her. Long black hair, soft blue-green eyes, slightly tan skin, and the cutest freckles on her face. Half of these were definitely Scamander qualities… but who was the other half? “It seems that you know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“My name is Mei Anne Mendoza Scamander. I’m five years old and I have a little brother named Thaddeus Alden Mendoza Scamander!” She said proudly.

“Mei Mei, what’s taking you so long? Uncle Newt’s gonna show us Kelpie!!” Thaddeus exclaimed, turning the same corner. “Who’s this, Mei Mei?”

(Y/N) looked past Mei Anne to see her brother.

Thaddeus had nicely styled brown hair, dark brown eyes, and slightly tanned skin but a skin tone lighter than his sister’s. She swore that if he came closer, he’d have those Scamander freckles on his cheeks too.

She gasped, her hands covering her mouth. “Oh… How did I not see that? You two are almost sheer copies of your parents…”

Just then the door to the basement opened, “Mei Mei, Thaddeus, Newt! We’re here!” Victoria called out as they descended the stairs.

With every click of Victoria’s heels, (Y/N) had the urge to Disapparate out of there. That was until Mei Anne called out, “Nanay! Look who came to visit?”

Victoria quickly walked down the remaining steps, Theseus following close behind. “Who is it? Aunty Tina? Aunty Queenie and Uncle Jacob? Who could it be-” She stopped at the bottom of the steps and (Y/N) stood from her squatting position. They felt it.

The small bit of warmth from the charm bracelets they got all those years ago… “(Y/N)..?”

(Y/N) turned around slowly. “Hey, Vi… It’s me…”

Theseus smiled and softly pushed Victoria forward. “Don’t just stand here, hug her!”

“I missed you so much…” (Y/N) whispered as they shared a long hug. Soon, Theseus and the kids joined in on the hug.

When they all pulled away, Newt finally joined the rest. “Mei Mei, Thaddeus! Where have you two been? Have you found out who Apparated here? Victoria! Theseus! You weren’t supposed to be here until later- (Y/N)?” Newt rambled.

“Thanks again for watching the kids, Newton!” Victoria smiled. She then whispered something in (Y/N)’s ear before leaving with Theseus and the kids.

“(Y/N)...” Newt trailed off, shoving his hands into his pockets.

She smiled. “Hello, Newt.”

And all was well. It may have taken a while to adjust, but Newt and (Y/N) managed it. After all… it was their fairytale.

[caribouwritings]

Sub-Zero

           I was only three when my older brother Eddie died. He had a brain tumor; he died a couple weeks after my birthday and a couple weeks before his.

          He did just as he told our mom when he said, “I stay four.”

          On June 27th, my big brother was gone at age four.

***

           My parents tried to give me a happy life. They gave me privileges that some kids are not as lucky enough to have (such as a vacation almost every year). Despite what the therapist had said when the event happened, I was damaged and it was only a matter of time before it would all show in forms that got glossed over repeatedly.

I didn’t just lose my brother, I lost my best friend, my protector, my guide… I lost my Eddie.

           Although I can now say it and not think much of it, I still cry at the thought I was cheated out of a big brother to teach me the ropes and take my hand when I was scared.

           Senior year of high school was the hardest. I was graduating (on that day fifteen years later) and my brother did not even make it to kindergarten, which he was so excited for because he’d get to ride a bus; His favorite thing in life besides me, our family, Scooby-Doo, and Donald Duck was anything with an engine.

           I outlived my brother who knew what he wanted (it could’ve changed in time, but it would still involve cars and trucks), and I had panicked. I believed people when they told me I would be a great English teacher. I wanted to be a writer, but everyone kept saying I am a teacher at heart. There was just a couple teeny tiny (major) problems:  I hate school (and still do), I am very selective with what I choose to read, and I don’t talk unless I want to or need to.

            Kudos to those who teach, but I’d rather not go back. School for me was where I had my individuality constantly beaten out of me, I was bullied by other students for who I was, have been accused and associated with things I am not, and my mental health got worse.

           However, being non-confrontational, I just nodded my head and let myself be pushed to a major I did not want and watched as I slowly went downhill, and crossed paths with someone a little bit before graduation who is just like me… sort of.

           I was looking for some new games to play that are like Street Fighter II. While watching a Top Ten Best Fighting Games of All Time video on YouTube, the channel (Watchmojo) ranked a video game called Mortal Kombat (2011) at number two, right next to Street Fighter II which placed number one. When I saw the game on clearance at Walmart, I put it in the cart with the plan to take over the unused Xbox 360 in the living room bought by my parents’ for the Kinect feature. My mom did not care anymore, she was just grateful that the expensive gaming system collecting dust under the TV stand was finally being used.

           I played through several kombatants (yes, with a ‘K’, most ‘C’ starting words are replaced with a ‘K’) in the Ladder Fights and Test Your Luck challenges for hours enjoying the blood and gruesome moves.

            I oddly kept finding myself drawn to Sub-Zero, the blue ice assassin (don’t call them ninjas, they find it highly insulting). I didn’t know why though; I couldn’t figure out why I thought the man with ice powers was intriguing. Curious by nature, I did what I do with everything else I found fascinating, I dug for all the information I could find. It didn’t matter how useless and random, I wanted to know everything about the world of Mortal Kombat, and I now know a huge chunk of it.

           Sub-Zero’s real name is Kuai Liang, and he was originally called Tundra. He is the younger brother of Bi-Han, the first Sub-Zero in the series, and Kuai Liang took the name Sub-Zero after his brother’s death to honor him. That was the only similarity I thought we had, but I was so wrong… I was so wrong.

           Mortal Kombat is super violent. The two ice powered brothers are best known for a fatality where they rip the head and spine out of their enemy opponent, both parts still attached together like a twisted party trick (and this is also the main origin to the ERSP rating system in video games). I am not even strong enough to lift a twenty pound puppy without nearly dropping the stubborn Shepard Labrador mix back on the ground with a thump. Plus there’s the other stuff on the surface:  blonde Caucasian female with an olive shade of green eyes, a bubbly persona and pink girly appearance, versus a dark haired Chinese American male with icy blue eyes, a cold persona and super violent history.

           “He is just a video game character, he is not real. You don’t need to care this much for this fictional character.”

           I know that. Kuai Liang is not real, but his story is real to me.

           Kuai Liang went through hell. Everything bad that could have happened, did happen to him. He lost his brother when Scorpion—the wraith of the NetherRealm (and the franchise’s fan favorite character)—killed him in retaliation for killing the whole Shirai Ryu clan, his kind-hearted wife, and innocent baby boy (spoiler alert, it wasn’t Bi-Han at all! Scorpion was tricked into killing an innocent man!). Wanting to avenge his brother’s death, and avoid the Lin Kuei’s new cyber-initiative their Grandmaster was keen on, Kuai Liang and his best friend, Smoke, ran away to find the answers to what happened to Bi-Han. Right when our new Sub-Zero nearly has his revenge and is to kill Scorpion, he is stopped and surrounded by members of his former clan who have been converted from human to cyborg; despite the robotic outsides and still human insides, they are brainwashed to obey like full-fledged robots. He is taken back to the clan and suffers the same fate of being turned into a cyborg and is renamed LK-520, then sent after Smoke who managed to get away. Lucky for both of them, cyber-Sub-Zero is knocked unconscious and Smoke gets help from his new allies to reset Kuai Liang, but although he gets his control back, he is now stuck as a mashup of man and machine. Until (in a rushed scene of the game) he is killed and his soul is sent to the Netherrealm where he is rebuilt from what is left of his remaining bits of human organs and bone inside his robotic shell. Although human again, he is now under the mind control of the sorcerer, Quan Chi (spoiler alert! He’s the real person behind Scorpion’s suffering!), and is now working alongside both the man who framed his brother and the man who murdered his brother, along with several of his new allies that died as well. In the tenth game, he is freed from Quan Chi’s control by being in the right place at the right time (and by also being a fan favorite character too).

           That should be the end of it, but it’s not. This is right before I realized how perfectly Kuai Liang’s life parallels mine. This is before I read the comics.  

           Like I said, I get invested in stories to the point I want to find out everything I can. When I found all three volumes of the comic series on Amazon, I couldn’t resist and I bought all three.

           When UPS came to deliver the package, I brought it straight to my room plopping the brown cardboard box on my bed, and cut the tape open with a pink mechanical pencil. I didn’t care for the other two books I bought (except enough to hide the one I bought for my little sister’s birthday in the closet) because there they were. Volumes one, two, and three were at the bottom of the box under giant green bags of air that are satisfying to stomp on and give unsuspecting siblings heart attacks, but that was unimportant in this moment. I took the three volume books out and spread them on my bed, and dived right into the unknown; into the rebuild of the Shirai Ryu, the second generation of klassic characters, and what happened to those who lived or were brought back like Sub-Zero.

           Sub-Zero, at this point, was my favorite character. In volume two, however, there was a shift in my view of him. In that shift, he became my number one favorite character ever and sealed his place into that spot permanently.

           Kuai Liang had become possessed by a cursed dagger in the previous volume, and it continued into volume two. Scorpion (he is a good guy now… sort of) and his apprentice, Takeda, go after him and get the dangerous dagger back, but the curse makes it hard for Scorpion to reason with Kuai Liang. Scorpion becomes frustrated and the two fight to what they believe to be the death, until Takeda manages to get the dagger away. Kuai Liang exhausts out all the remaining evil within him, and then is left standing there perplexed by why he is there and what is going on. It doesn’t matter to Scorpion though, he still beats the bewildered young Sub-Zero to a bloody pulp and leaves him to die.

           Kuai Liang rethinks his life as he lays their bleeding out, so when Bo’ Rai Cho (ew, trust me on this one, just ew) comes to him to help him get back on his feet, he asks him, “you haven’t figured out what all these events mean? Why I’m here?”

           Kuai Liang’s answer is, “I must commit hara kiri…”

           There. There it is. Right there. That is the line that made me see I am more like Sub-Zero than I thought I was.

           We lost our older brothers, we lost our individuality, we were beaten, we were bullied, we were brainwashed, we took orders, we went down wrong paths, we battled the world, we battled ourselves, and we took so much of a beaten that we laid in our own blood, sweat, and tears thinking “I must commit hara kiri…”

           What is hara kiri? To simplify, it is suicide.

           I remember putting the comic down on my stuff animal infested bed and staring at the lavender colored walls, looking at the big picture. Sub-Zero is a strong warrior with ice powers, and he hit rock bottom. He may be physically stronger than me, but he is just as broken and weak as me on the inside. He put up a shield, hiding behind his anger just like I hid behind my smile.

           I picked up the comic again, and skipped frantically through the pages of volume three just to get to Kuai Liang and find the answers. What did he do and how did he survive to be in the next game?

           It is complicated and complex, but the answer is different based on how you interpret his story. I obviously interpreted it well, because I am here. I am okay.

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

IT Chapter 2 - Thoughts (SPOILERS)

When the first IT movie came out two years ago, I went in knowing absolutely NOTHING about the book or story. I still have not read the book (I have maybe twenty pages of Jay Baruchel’s book left, and then I’ll be starting IT!), but both then and now, I’ve found that the first IT movie is one of my favourite horror films. Whilst the first one didn’t really scare me so much as just freak me the fuck out, I still thought it was well-made and enjoyable.

I hadn’t watched the original film for a long time - probably over a whole year since. When I saw that there was going to be a double bill of the first AND second film, I immediately jumped to get a ticket - I needed a refresher of the first film, and I was extremely PUMPED for the second film. 

As I’m writing this, I’ve just gotten back from the double bill and I wanted to get some thoughts down whilst they’re still fresh in my mind. This is NOT my proper, written-out review, more just me making notes that’ll help me write that review. I also wanted to write them down just in case someone wants to go in prepared, or if they’re on the fence about seeing the film and don’t mind spoilers. 

I am also NOT talking about the first film - I made a post on my old blog when I first watched “IT” in 2017, which I have dug up and can be found HERE. 

In case it’s not already obvious, THERE ARE SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT. MASSIVE SPOILERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO READ THE SPOILERS.

Anyway, let’s get on with it!

This is more of a cinema-complaint but my cinema still had the music that plays in the venue playing over the first thirty seconds so I missed ALL the audio in the first thirty seconds of the film. I DID see Beverly floating and the Losers Club talking, so I’m assuming it’s nothing I didn’t already know from the first film.

I like that it opens with cutbacks to the first film, it ties it nicely together and adds an extra reminder/refresher of what happened in the first film.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT THAT FUCKING OPENING ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME RIGHT NOW

So after the Losers Club, there’s a scene with this gay couple at a carnival, one of whom is called Adrian, and they firstly get verbal harassment from a gang of people, and then said gang starts following them.

OKAY LOOK THIS IS A WARNING, THERE IS A GAY BASHING IN THIS FILM. It really FUCKED me up, I’m going to be honest. I’m pretty sure it’s something that happens in the book, so maybe I don’t need to warn anyone, but I was unprepared to see it. 

So after they beat Adrian up, they toss him over a bridge while he’s unconscious and into the river below; his boyfriend goes running down to find him, and that’s when you see Pennywise.

At first I thought Pennywise was just super against gay bashing and was actually helping Adrian but NOPE, HE TAKES A GIANT FUCKING BITE OUT OF HIM, I NEARLY SCREAMED IN THE CINEMA

Also I definitely noticed how Adrian was asthmatic and needed an inhaler, as is Eddie. I’m not sure if that’s a sign but let’s assume so...

This is how it all starts again and Mike - who’s the only one still in Derry btw - has to call the rest of the club up because “oh shit he’s back again”. 

Can I just say that the casting for the adult Losers Club is FUCKING PHENOMENAL. ALL OF THEM.

James McAvoy as Bill? Jessica Chastain as Beverly? Bill Hader as Richie? Blessed casting, absolutely blessed.

As a writer, I laughed so hard at everyone hating Bill’s book endings. Literally EVERYONE shat on how he ended his books, even his own wife (who’s an actress, I think?) and it was so funny.

Poor Eddie went from a domineering mother to a domineering wife who I’m 99% sure is played by the same actress by the way. 

Probably should mention now that Eddie is one of my favourite members of the club in the first film, so that was kinda sad for me to see.

Oh God, Richie in this film is perfect. I love him. First time we see him, he’s vomiting after getting a phone call from Mike and then he has to go onstage to do stand-up. Throughout the whole film he is literal GOLD.

Ben really had a huge glow-up between movies, I mean DAMN BEN. Does that happen in the book? Ben going from the “fat kid” to “handsome and fit” or...?

Oh poor Bev...poor Bev indeed. She went from being abused by her creepy ass father to being in an abusive relationship with her husband. I sadly get the feeling that that kind of thing happens in real life - history repeats itself and all of that.

I’m 90% sure that Bev’s husband was going to r*pe her because he threw her down and started to take off his shirt, but she kicked him off her and fought back before too much happened.

Of course, Stan. I had a horrible feeling when I saw the trailers and saw that he was noticeably absent compared to the others. Also, when I started reading IT two years ago (I only got a few chapters in, I didn’t have much time so I kind of fell away before I got too into the book), THAT scene with Stan was one of the only chapters I got round to reading because it was right at the start. So I knew and I was dreading it.

Potentially triggering for people like myself who have been suicidal/are suicidal/self-harm; he runs himself a bath and then slits his wrists to kill himself (and succeeds). I mean, it’s not 13 Reasons Why level of explicit, you don’t SEE him do it properly, but it’s intercut with the moment Bill sliced his palm in the first film when they were all making the pact. So it’s PRETTY DAMN OBVIOUS what’s going on.

Throughout this whole film, I had no idea what was real and what wasn’t anymore. Some of the shit that happened was bizarre and I was like “...how is NO ONE NOTICING THAT”. 

As soon as I saw the words “cut” and “IT” come out of fortune cookies, I knew something was about to go down. Even more so when “Stanley” came out of one.

The humour in this film is a whole new level. Most of it is Bill Hader as Richie, but some of it is just in general (like one of them screaming “IT’S NOT REAL” whilst smashing a chair on a table in the Chinese restaurant, only for an employee to turn up and be like “da fuq”...long story).

I assumed that Henry Bowers had fallen straight to hell or died frankly. Oh boy was I wrong. Not surprised they put him in an asylum given that he murdered his own father tbh. 

PATRICK THE ZOMBIE

So is the Patrick zombie ACTUALLY driving Henry around, I’m curious because how the fuck would no one else notice a zombie driving around?!

“how do you not know material from you own show?!” - oh God, I am so weak

Pennywise kills this little girl called Vicky and I just KNEW. I just knew what that little bitch (Pennywise) was up to as soon as he started fake crying because “no one will be my friend because I look strange” or whatever. He saw that mark on the girl’s face and I fucking knew. 

“One...Two...” “...” “...” “...you’re supposed to say-” AND THEN HE TOOK A MASSIVE FUCKING BITE OUT OF HER FACE, I LITERALLY CRIED OUT I WAS SO FUCKING TERRIFIED

The scene where Mike drugs Bill to get him to “see” is...weird. Extremely weird. It was like being on hallucinogen drugs. Everything about it and IT is weird.

I’m confused as to when the timeline of them building the clubhouse and their individual experiences with IT take place in this film. Are the individual encounters (which I’ll talk about in a moment) supposed to have taken place in the time they were all apart? And the clubhouse, was that AFTER they fought IT? I’m so confused about when all of this was happening

So they all have to find these objects as offerings for this ritual to defeat IT and...that was a ride of several varieties.

We’ve all seen the Mrs Kersh teaser, right? The old lady? And how she suddenly wiggles around naked in the background for no apparent reason? That made a LOT of people laugh but, I mean, hats off to the actress for doing that, I’m 21 and I couldn’t even imagine having to do that.

Umm so yikes, Bev’s relationship with her father remains so creepy and abusive, like he blames her for her mother killing herself?? And then sprays her in her mom’s perfume and starts smelling her?? I needed to lie down on the sofa I was on, it had me so uncomfortable.

Um so Mrs Kersh turns into this GIANT FUCKING OLD LADY DEMON THING THAT’S NAKED AND I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO UNCOMFORTABLE IN MY LIFE

Pennywise painting his face and making those noises...yikes. fuckin yikes. I still love Bill Skarsgard.

OKAY LOOK RICHIE WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT RICHIE’S WHOLE STORYLINE SO IMMA DO THAT NOW

ABOUT RICHIE

So if I’m correct, and I think I am, Richie is gay? There’s a flashback when he heads to the arcade of Richie when he’s young and his hand lingers just a second too long on another boy’s at one point, and then he gets accused of being “weird”. Then it turns out the boy is Bowers’ cousin and Bowers shows up, starts accusing Richie of being a certain-gay-slur, and Richie runs outside.

Umm that bUILDER LUMBERJACK STATUE COMING TO LIFE WAS UNNECESSARY THANK YOU I’M GOING TO HAVE FUCKING NIGHTMARES ABOUT THAT FUCKING THING

So back to older Richie because this is all happening one-after-the-other here. Older Richie goes outside and he looks up at the Lumberjack statue, and there’s Pennywise with loads of balloons.

Pennywise starts accusing him of being too afraid to play games, but especially truth-or-dare, because then “everyone will know your secret”. 

My legit favourite thing is now Pennywise the clown floating down from on top of a statue singing “I KNOW YOUR SECRET, YOUR DIRTY LITTLE SECRET” and I refuse to feel guilty for it

It is so heavily implied that Richie’s secret is that he’s attracted to guys and I am here for the representation. I don’t know whether Richie is gay or bi or whatever, but shit I love it

I literally just wanted Richie to admit it so he could be proud and not afraid, like own it Richie. Own who you are, and then Pennywise can’t use it against you.

I’m literally going to rewatch this film JUST FOR RICHIE AND EDDIE’S ROMANCE

Anyway, end of me discussing Richie (for now)

I saw you Stephen King, in that shop with Bill’s bike :))

I wonder how other adults in Derry feel about seeing fully grown Bill screaming down a drain. It’s kind of sadly funny now that I consider it...

To be honest, I don’t remember what that little boy was called but Bill must have looked like a fucking weirdo just screaming and following that little boy around... (okay, I THINK the kid is called Dean so I’m going to just call him that)

To be fair to Bill, I also lie awake at night wondering “why Georgie??” That kid was far too adorable.

I always thought Ben was smart for some reason and so I was kinda surprised to see him in summer school (I’m English so we don’t have that here, but am I right in thinking that it’s where you go if you fail school or something? To get your grades up/retake tests?)

I was not convinced for a second that that shadow belonged to Beverly, and turns out I’m right. 

See, after seeing Bev’s head suddenly catch on fire, I’m glad I never started smoking (yes, I’m aware that’s Pennywise)

Poor Ben, having fake-Bev tell him that he’s fat/will die alone etc. It’s so sweet that he kept the page in his yearbook that she signed though, to remind himself that the REAL Beverly wouldn’t do that.

“Kiss me, fat boy” - AM I WRONG OR WAS THAT A LINE IN THE TIM CURRY VERSION BECAUSE I’M SURE IT’S NOT THE FIRST TIME A PENNYWISE HAS SAID THAT

That creepy ass pharmacist is still there?? AND his daughter?!

See, I’m confused...did Eddie’s mom REALLY get killed by the Leper or was that just a Pennywise trick to lure him in?

That Leper, guys...fuck me, it’s disgusting like it licks and vomits on Eddie?!

You know shit’s about to get real when characters go into fun-houses, especially the ones with a clown theme.

Okay, you know what, I was wrong when I thought that that little girl called Vicky had the most violent death - HOW ABOUT DEAN?? PENNYWISE RAMMING HIS HEAD AGAINST THE GLASS AND THEN FUCKING EATING HIM IN FRONT OF BILL WHILST BLOOD SPRAYS FUCKING EVERYWHERE

Ben: I’ve spoken to Richie, he’s going to stay -> Cut to: Richie, escaping and driving away very quickly

Hang on, how in the fuck did Eddie survive Bowers stabbing him in the cheek?! (Having said that, the Narrator in Fight Club survived blowing the whole of his cheek off so I can’t complain). 

For a moment I genuinely forgot about what happened to Henry Bowers after this but I’ve just remembered - he attacks the Losers Club again at the library and gets stabbed (I think?). All I know is that he definitely dies in that library.

I knew Mike’s parents had burnt to death and he’d been in the next room, but I didn’t realize that he’d been a toddler at the time?? Jesus, how is he not completely fucked up after that?!

No amount of money or anything could ever convince me to go into that fucking house on Neibolt Street frankly. 

I can’t remember why Richie decided to stay right now but he decides to stay and help out. My memory is BAD.

So they go into the house and so much horrific shit goes down that I literally was hiding behind the blanket I was using.

Less scary thing first: Ben having words carved into his stomach until Bev kicks some ass and destroys a mirror. Still freaked me out but not as much as the NEXT THING HOLY SHIT

So in the next room, the fridge opens and inside is young!Stan’s body - his head then falls off and rolls across the floor, starts speaking. When the Losers Club starts not believing it/being less afraid, Stan’s head...fuck fuck fuck

Stan’s head GROWS FUCKING LEGS AND IT BECOMES A SPIDER BUT WITH A HUMAN HEAD?! SO STAN’S HEAD IS THE BODY/FACE BUT IT HAS SPIDER LEGS AND I NEARLY BURST INTO TEARS BECAUSE I CAN HANDLE A LOT BUT FUCKIN SPIDERS IS NOT FUCKIN ONE OF THEM

I’M NOT KIDDING, THAT IS THE MOST TERRIFYING, HORRIFYING THING I HAVE EVER SEEN, AND I HAVE SEEN A LOT OF HORROR MOVIES

So they all end up going into the sewers, and going deeper after that, to do their ritual; freaky-boob-demon showed up and pulled Bev underwater, but beyond it being a quick jumpscare (that was admittedly scary), nothing happens since it goes down underwater and just see Eddie panicking but too afraid to go in after them himself.

Richie giving Eddie the pep talk was both sweet and hilarious. I admittedly laughed more than I should have done at the “you married a woman who weighs 400 pounds comment”. 

So, surprise surprise, the fucking dumbass ritual doesn’t work. For some reason Mike decides “hmm I won’t mention that this ritual failed before when it was last done, ho hum” and so everyone’s in the shit after that.

Pennywise turns into this gigantic crab-spider-thing and I don’t know how to feel about it. It’s honestly terrifying and unsettling, but I was half-expecting IT to turn into something like a massive spider or something horrific. I’m glad in a way he didn’t but still.

I should have mentioned this earlier but remember how in the first film, they decided that they’re safe so long as they stay together? YEAH, WELL, SECOND FILM SAYS LOL NOPE TO THAT AND THE CLUB KEEP SEPARATING, WHY DO YOU STRESS ME OUT LIKE THIS

The thing with Richie and Eddie and that Pomeranian was so cute? You know, until the dog fuCKING TURNED INTO A MONSTER THAT IS, “Not Scary At All” MY ASS PENNYWISE

Is IT able to be in seven different places at once? Because I wasn’t sure, but Pennywise seems to torment the kids/adults separately at the same time in BOTH films

So apparently Bill feels guilty because he “wasn’t sick” that day that Georgie went out into the rain and like...okay? That feels a bit shoehorned in but cool, alright then.

Bev ends up in that toilet cubicle with people trying to break in and like...gross? Her dad? And the pharmacist? Can go fuck themselves :))

So that toilet filled with blood pretty fast huh

Also Beverley really took her sweet ass time realizing that it was BEN who wrote that poem despite the fact she seemed to realize he was the one who did it AFTER he kissed her awake in the first film. However, I’ll maybe let it slide since apparently they forget things when they leave Derry, so...

Ben nearly drowns in dirt and Pennywise taunts him about dying alone, honestly same, I just know I’m going to die alone and unloved :))

Richie deciding “fuck it” and throwing rocks/screaming at Pennywise was so amazing...until the deadlights got him.

Eddie really sacrificed himself like that, huh :(

Poor Eddie was so happy because “oh my god I did it, I killed him, Richie wake up, look-!” - and then he got fucking stabbed. Gosh, I just LOVE it when my favourites DIE LIKE THAT STEPHEN KING -_-

So the deadlights are kind of just...balls of light? Or...?

So apparently calling Pennywise names like “clown” and putting him down is all it took to make him small enough to defeat, huh? They really shouted “clown” at him until he shrunk into a new-born-baby-sized-Pennywise

Also they crushed his heart and that was it. Cool, I guess. I don’t know what I was expecting but I don’t think what I got was it

So, um, while I’m here, let’s just take a moment to...

FUCKING NO WHY DID NO ONE FUCKING TELL ME THAT FUCKING EDDIE WAS GOING TO DIE

I WAS ROOTING FOR EDDIE EVERY SINCE HE SAID ABOUT GAZEBOS OKAY YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW ANGRY AND SAD I AM

I mean, he died like a hero, granted, but how fucking dare you-

You know what’s even MORE heartbreaking than Eddie dying? RICHIE’S REACTION.

Oh sure, the others are sad, but RICHIE IS FULL ON SOBBING AND NOT WANTING TO LET HIM GO, LIKE HE’S LITERALLY IN DENIAL AND HAS TO BE DRAGGED AWAY

RICHIE TAKES IT THE HARDEST AND MY HEART, IT FUCKING HURTS GUYS, IT REALLY DOES

Anyway, thank you Bill Hader for inventing acting for this film

Okay I’m sort of done

So no one is going to notice that dusty crackhouse building just crumbling completely then?

That moment where the remaining adult losers look at their reflection in a window, and they see themselves young - but it’s ALL of them young, even Stan and Eddie, and now I really am sad

Richie breaking down when they’re in the quarry to clean up...again, my heart hurts and it’s Richie’s fault

Towards the beginning of this film/most of the first film, I genuinely cared a bit about who Bev ended up with (well, more I was hoping it was Ben because he’s sweet and a good person) but by the time we got to Ben and Bev kissing after all the Bill-Bev-Ben triangle bullshit...meh. Cool, I guess. 

I am genuinely glad that the surviving losers seem to be living at least slightly better lives by the end of the film; Bill actually as an idea about what he’s writing for once; Bev is away from abusive fathers/husbands and with Ben on what looked like a VERY nice private yacht; I think Mike was going to see the world(?) after being cooped up in the library for so  long.

Richie...I don’t know if his ending was better than how he started to be honest. I think he said something about being proud at the end, so maybe that means he’s going to accept who he is? 

HE CARVED “R+E” into the bridge as a teen, and he re-cARVES IT AT THE END ARE YOU SERIOUS

Did Stan really think that by killing himself, it would prevent everyone from going back or...? Because he says in his letter that if it’s not ALL of them going back, then he’s assuming they’ll all die? Or something?

^If I’ve got that wrong (which I’m sure I have) please excuse me, it was 1am by the time the film finished and I was recovering from being terrified and I was tired

Obviously Bill Skarsgard was amazing as Pennywise, I just wanted to save that until last because wOW. He really put his all into the character, and I personally think he did a fantastic job with it.

So overall, I enjoyed IT Chapter 2. Was it as good as the first? Ehh...kind of hard to say. I was more scared shitless this time around but it was mostly jump-scares. It was definitely creepier/darker/bloodier. Having said that, there were moments where I was like “what the actual fck” or a bit lost, like Mike drugging Bill? I also noticed that a LOT of people in the cinema were laughing towards the end when it was the comedic parts but rather the scary ones - whether that’s just “some people laugh when nervous/anxious” or they genuinely thought it was hilarious, I’m not sure. This film is also nearly 3 hours long, which...is a while. For me, it wasn’t too bad because I’ve done LOTR marathons at home using the extended editions, so under 3 hours is kind of something I’m used to, but it does kind of drag a bit. At the beginning there was a lot of time building up characters, which I get, but also was slightly unnecessary at times. The CGI was sort of a mixed bag for me. I feel like the CGI on Pennywise throughout was overall improved, but there were moments like an eyeball rolling across the table or something where I thought it looked fake as hell.

But all of that aside, I really enjoyed the film. I think I’d go back again just to see Bill Hader as Richie, to be honest, and for Richie’s whole storyline. For me personally, that was the best non-horror element of the film.As I said, I have not read the book YET, but it’s the very next one on my list - chances are I’ll be starting it tonight or tomorrow!

[p---leia]

Ancient Writer of dreams and nightmares: I am 71 (-one month), and have been writing (making up tales) since I was three. I can still remember my Pawpaw whittling a pencil for me, and Mawmaw tearing a piece of brown grocery bag for me to write on. They weren't 'poor', but writing paper wasn't to be wasted on a 'kid' just for fun. I carefully scripted my first short story.

Of course my 'letters' looked more like ancient Hanguel, so I had to read it to my "captured" audience. I really don't remember the story, but as my grandparents had a yard full of chickens and my dog, Mutt, liked to chase them (because of this we 'both' got into trouble -- because I always joined the chase) I most probably wrote about that.

My Pawpaw was a story-teller. For several years I thought there really was a baby found in the wilds of the African jungle and raised by the great apes. I thought he was the luckiest babe, EVER!

Then I found Pawpaw's books about three years after he died. I was eleven when he died, and felt that my best friend had abandoned me. But when I found those books I realized just where Tarzan actually came from and went to. I read everyone of those books and got the complete picture. THEN..

Well, Pawpaw also told stories of Daniel Boone and Davey Crocket...before I saw them on Disney. Then, of course, I went to school and learned what I already knew. Pawpaw was an excellent story-teller and never mixed up his facts, time-lines, or characters.

Growing up under his influence had a lot to do with how I developed as a story-teller. At family gatherings when I meet cousins I haven't seen in decades, they STILL remember me and the stories that I used to tell them. My children and grandchildren have grown up with me re-telling Pawpaw's old stories, and sharing many that I made up on the spot.

But I think what I read in my early years developed my writing style.

I was just turned eight when I read my first Shakespeare, MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. He was my first favorite author. Then I was forced to read Romeo and Juliet. I was disgusted by the fact that TRAGEDY was made famous as a ROMANCE! Even at the innocent (then) age of fourteen, I was disgusted with the idea that it was considered romantic for 'anyone', let alone 'teenagers' to commit suicide over unrequited love.

My sister (now 68) and I recently discussed this play. Because she had a 'forbidden' teenage love, she said that she related to the story (even though she had never read it). GASP! It was required reading in ninth grade!

I remember our dad breaking up my sister and her boyfriend, who was really cool. He was a hard working farm boy who had saved his money to buy a motorcycle. AND his own car. But he wasn't good enough for my sister. smh

I always thought her story would make a great LifeTime movie. But I'm not touching it. She would 'skin me' for sharing with the world her broken heart. And if I added the stuff that sells today, she'd scalp me for lying. Not a win situation at all. So, I will write notes in my "Random Jottings Journal" for future decendants who might grow into writers or story-tellers.

By the way, the title "RANDOM JOTTINGS" came from a sci-fi book that I read as a kid in the fifties. I don't remember the author, although I'm pretty sure it 'might' be from a Heinlein juvenile book. But I've never found a reference to any sci-fi books using that term. SO!!! If anyone recognizes "RANDOM JOTTINGS", which was a note book that a professor/scientist/genius used to keep his 'thoughts', PLEASE share the author's name and the title of the book!!! Thank You.

In the meantime, I referenced Shakespeare. James Oliver Curwood wrote about Kazan, the Wolf Dog, and later Baree, Son of Kazan. From those two books, read when I was eleven, I searched for and found other books about Canada. Later there was Walter Farley, author of the Black Stallion, and the Island Stallion series. I think I met my FIRST friendly alien in the Island Stallion Races.

Of course, Edgar Rice Burroughs taught me much false history about the jungles of Africa, as well as the Moon and Mars. But I loved every 'read-under-the-covers-with a-flashlight' minute! I believe he was a contemporary of Zane Grey, because he wrote a few non-jungle and non-space stories, too. Which led me to Zane Grey.

Having read both of their biographies at a young age, I learned about the hardships of being a writer. I should say 'the hardships of a struggling writer'. I have never had a problem writing. Since I write for 'fun' and not 'profit', the few short stories I've had published were by local press, and a State magazine.

No, my struggles have centered around graduating high school, and completing college, stuggling to satisfy my husband, a 'Mr. Spock in the Flesh' personality, and later raising two children without benefit of parental support or child support. But we survived in the middle of laughter and many tears. And my made up stories about children lost in the woods who were rescued by a great friendly bear, or wolf. Or dog. And sometimes by a great Black Panther - a by product of one of my Pawpaw's 'local historical tales'.

I understand that publishers detest stories that begin with "It was a dark and stormy night.." But let me tell you, some of the BEST bedtime stories occur on stormy nights when the power has gone out, and it's too hot for candles or lanterns. That shadow that stands darkest in the corner and seems to be moving towards the bed is actually grandma come to check on the kids, and stands quiet so not to disturb the kids if they're already asleep. But since they are awake, and they see her 'shadow', she becomes the old crone who lives in the castle dungeon, and has slipped her chains to visit with the 'wee folk'. But there are no fairies out on such a blustery night, so the old crone comes to visit with the 'wee bairn', who fall all over themselves to get out of bed and sit around her to hear her stories of 'long ago' and other 'dark and stormy nights'. Again -- unpublished, because publishers don't like ... LOL

Of course there's always On-Line publishing. But that involves more work than actual writing.

Back to the writrs who influenced my writing:

While I enjoy a good Western, an adventurous space trek, or time travel, I also enjoy the occasional Historical Romance. Georgette Heyer was my first! I still re-read her amazing books. Of course there's Jane Austen.

There are a myriad of modern writers that I have read over the last five decades. Heinlen, Asimov, Norton, Bradley, McCaffrey, Moon, Stirling, Krentz/Castle/Quick, and Moening, just to name a few of the ones whose books I have in my personal library.

Those older authors did affect my writing style to develope as I read their stories. The later authors helped me to move into the late 20th century. But I'm not so sure that I like the 21st century so much. It's all about being politically 'correct'. If you aren't ashamed of your gender, your race, your country, your religion, your culture, your family, your history, then you are prejudiced. That's just too much guilt to have to live with.

I'm still dealing with my mom's death from ten years ago. I was her care-giver for five years. Her doctor had given her nine months. I still worry if I did enough for her in those last years.

And though my children are grown with their own families, I worry that I wasn't a good enough parent. And I worthy as a grandmother? How was I as an older sister? I was responsible as a moral guide when our parents were at work. Was I a good neighbor? A good support in our Church? And Hollywood wants me to feel guilt about something I can't change?!!

I'm an old woman who still likes being a woman and enjoys liking men. I'm not just white. I'm also mixed with a bit of Native American, and even a drop of -- OMG!!! --- Black. snicker.

That's a serious joke, because as a kid I had a recuring nightmare that I was a black man being judged by a group of people in white hoods I was hanged amidst their fiery torches. I always thought those white hoods represented the Catholic Church, because at that young age I didn't know about the Ku Klux Klan. Even though I grew up in the South, my family was not involved with that group of out-lawrey. Thank God!

Still, I'm supposed to feel shame? For something not even my family supported.

I've always believed there's a hint of Fae in my DNA. Because I love dancing in the light of the full moon, and flying with the owls who perch outside my bedroom window and call to invite me to follow the moon's shadow. If I am part Fae, I know it came from my mother's people. They were Irish mixed with Alabama Indians who believed in the Nunnehi aka Immortal, and the Yunwi Tsunsdi, aka Little People.

ALSO, while there's no DNA proof of ancestry, I've always been a 'closet Chinese'.

In the Fifties, when WW2 was still fresh, and we were involved with the 'Korean Conflict', and at odds with China, I would sneak around the radio, turn down the volume, and tune into 'that wierd channel' that sometimes played Opera, or Chinese music. Ahhh. I would close my eyes and wander through the few visuals I'd found in books, or the occasional movie. (before color tv)

A year or two ago I was totally depressed and disgusted with American TV. Hollywood has become so political, so wierd. Their programming is no longer for entertainment, but to 'educate, enlighten, or to inform'. zzzzz

Then I found KDrama!!!!! Korean TV. Japanese Tv. squeal!!! Chinese TV.

The rom/coms are sweet and 'pure'. Okay. I'm realistic. This is not a reflection of real life on any planet. But the innocence of the early 1950s programs is there. Similar to Disney's 'Summer Magic'. I'm happy with those dramas that remind me of thati nnocence. I have found a few dramas that shared more than I cared for, and I do enjoy an occasional 'romp'. But I've always preferred the Lady and Gentleman characters.

And watching these programs have reminded me of those fairy tales and legends from my childhood that had been sprinkled with the Occasional Oriental myth, legend, and children's tale.

Then I remembered my FIRST historical legend. "The White Stag" by Kate Seredy, is the tale of Atilla the Hun!

I recently found a copy of that book and am waiting for a quiet time, when the power is out and there's nothing to do. Then I will use one of the many flashlights I bought for a huge hurricane, and relax on the sofa beneath an open window and read this legend once again. I live in Florida. The odds of this happening increases as the summer progresses. I can't wait to learn if my memory of this tale of Atilla the Hun remained true, or has been distorted in the last half of a century.

Most of the tales that I write involve space adventures, the occasioanl ghost, and encounters with fairies, the evil ones, not the romantic ideal fairy. smh

I've never been very good with romance or comedy. But thanks to the recent influence of the Asian productions, I have re-formatted one of my dark adventures and turned it into a rom/com.

I love a good joke, but very seldom get the point or see the humor. And I can NEVER remember the punch line if I try to share a joke. My family have said they will write on my tombstone --

"I don't remember the punchline ... but it was funny."

But as I write humorous lines or events I find myself laughing. Or crying at sad events. And I am all 'giggly' when I write what is supposed to be innocent romance between a young and shy couple. But I have never felt that my own reactions were a true guide to how the story might come across to a 'reader'.

As it happens, I have two sisters younger than I am. My middle sister is bored easily and immediately redirects our conversation to something about 'her'. Okay. I understand. She is lonely, needy, and maybe a bit selfish? Not judging. She's the 'middle child' and that's her excuse. ROFL..

But the youngest sister is my greatest fan who declares that I am an awesome writer. "I love you, sister, dear."

So she visited me last week and patiently listened as I read the first chapter. She listened quietly, and I wondered if I had 'read her to sleep'. sigh. Boring books are often the best sleeping pill. Then I heard her laugh.

Squeals/Dancing/hooting/flying around the room in ecstasy!!

Okay! At least one person has laughed. And she's not that easily 'tickled'.

So, I will always carry on and write. But now I feel that at least I might be following a path strewn with "Black-Eyed-Susans, honeybees, butterflies, and bunnies".

I don't know if anyone will read this, or will enjoy it. I hope so. While sharing bits of my youth, my worries, and my concern about certain ones of my 'stories', I actually had ideas for developing 'new' stories.

I am always amazed when writers say they are 'blocked'. I have only to open my eyes to see a world around me that no one else can envision. I listen to a song, and I'm in a different world, time, planet. A gift from Pawpaw, and Mother's DNA.

It is my oldest granddaughter's birthday this month, and I don't know what to give her for her birthday. But when she was younger, she always asked me to tell her a story. I think that I will pull out one of my OLD/ANCIENT tales that I wrote when her dad was her age and make it into a book for her.

p---leia aka Mamma KayeLee

7/19/2020

[tenpin-boleyn]

Rebellious Parr at School!

These were thought up by @wolfies-chew-toy and I- mostly MB- because Cathy going through teenage rebellion is I C O N I C

There are some teenage Anne in here too but mostly our girl Cathy P 🖤

Also I’m sorry about the length- I’m on mobile so I can’t add a read more :)

•Anne got her heelys confiscated, so she decided to sandpaper the bottom of her shoes so she can slide around like a penguin. No wheels? No problem.

•Catherine being the feminist icon that all teachers fear:

“NO I AM NOT READING ROMEO AND JULIET AS ITS A DEROGATORY REPRESENTATION OF WOMEN AND SHOULD BE TREATED AS SUCH”

Then Catherine promptly gets removed from the class.

“Catherine don’t you have English right now?”

“Don’t you have your funeral!!.... oh my god Mrs lynn I’m so sorry” because Cathy is a badass but she still has feelings

•Confusing the teachers on a daily basis:

"Hitler is kinda like Kim Jong Un dont you think?"

"Miss Parr and Miss Seymour what are you talking about?"

"Miss, isn't Kim Jong Un rather like Hitler?"

"Please stop discussing your Kpop idols in my class."

•The school has different colors led name tags for the different years, eg. Seventh year, yellow, eighth year green etc.

You can bet your ass Parr has a name tag in each colour and wears them all at once. It ranges from her actual name to Catradora. She has a name tag that just says CatParr420 and wears it everywhere.

And 90% of the time she wears a blank one and carries around a marker

“Umm excuse me what’s your name?”

Which prompts Cathy to draw on a fake name.

“Anita Willtolive”!

•She draws penises on all the whiteboards of every class she enters in permanent marker.

•One time the school used a drone to film the morning assembly and the noise annoyed Cathy so much she picked her book from morning reading up and h u r l e d it at the drone.

All you can hear before the recording stops is “YEET”

Did she get detention? Yes

Was it worth it? HELL YES

•You can bet your bottom dollar that Anne is in that detention too.

Anne's reasons for detention range from stuff like chatting to general shenaniganery but Cathy is just oPEN DEFIANCE

•She only is nice to her classmates

•And selected teachers

•She's a dick to everyone else

•But if she sees a kid on their own she’ll go out of her way to be lovely to them and to that one annoying teacher she hates, she’s a hell raiser

•She once moved the empty table next to her desk away to the other end of the class to stop teachers from sitting next to her- whilst the teacher was trying to sit at said desk.

•Catherine openly questioning EVERYTHING

“But if everyone is only nice to get into heaven surely that defeats the purpose and they’re being fake”

•She would fall asleep in front of the teacher

She'd just yell goodnight really loudly and knock out on her desk

•Honestly it’s a wonder she hasn’t been kicked out, but Jane thinks it’s because her grades bring up the school average

•She does her homework the moment she gets it and is finished by the end of the day

•Anne just puts in her file and lets it rot

•Parr gets in trouble for handing in Anne’s homework that Parr did but Anne has no idea. Cathy just wanted to make sure she didn’t fail

•Anne teaches Parr how to get discounts in the cafeteria, because Parr needs free cookies.

•Parr is Anne's defender when it comes to detentions

•She gives the teacher her Stare™️ and they instantly clam up

•Their detention desks are side by side and they have like those partners in crime necklaces but instead of two halves on their necklaces they’re carved into the tables

They they put them together they just line up

“Parr scares all the teachers except the German teacher who is literally Satan.

•Anne looks scary but she is basically harmless

•Parr looks like she wouldn't hurt a fly but given the chance she would 100% bite her teacher's hand off

•Anne has like five piercings and the messiest uniform in existence while Parr has only one piercing in each ear and the neatest uniform in existence but the moment Parr opens her mouth you better run

•She once bit a first year because they got in her way

•Cross any of Parr's friends or Parr herself and you might as well drop out because you'll be on a hit list for your whole education career

•She’s got a little black book of people that’s annoyed her because eventually she forgets but she’s too petty to let her memory get the better of her

•Anne has been on it at least once but Parr always strikes her name out

•She once kicked Parr in the stomach trying to show off her sandpapered shoes

•The shoe flew off and hit Parr in the stomach

She would have screamed at Anne but Anne’s puppy dog eyes are irresistible

Especially at 12 years old because she’s literally a baby

Like not even in a sexual way, you just can’t say no to those eyes

•Seymour has also been on the list once

But Parr got her revenge

What did Seymour do? She keeps taking Parrs highlighters

So Parr makes her pay money for every time she uses her highlighters

And one day a teacher sees and thinks it’s a drug deal

Every late payment is + 1 quid

Jane knows better than to accumulate late payments because Parr is ruthless when it comes to money

•When a classmate lost Parrs calculator and didn't pay her back, Parr literally carved owe money pay money onto her desk and got that person's friends to remind them daily till they paid her back

•Every time that person saw Parr in the hallways they'd turn around and head the other direction

•Tardies don't matter when the most trigger-happy person in school is out for your blood

•The day that she’s sat next to Parr in the seating plan is the day she moves schools

•Even then Parr still tracks her down

•She waits for them at the school gate with the most murderous smile on her face

•You just see Anne behind her chewing gum, snapping her fingers and doing jazz hands

•And the person is rapidly dialing their parents while screaming MOM COME PICK ME UP I'M SCARED

•Suddenly Aragon pulls up with the others and shouts at the pair “get in losers we’re going shopping”

"How the hell did you even find them Cathy?"

"I just followed the smell of crippling debt and it led me here."

“No seriously how?”

“Anne never turns her snapmaps off”

•Also Parr made the PE teacher cry more than once. More than twice. Okay it was 27 times.

•Parr has a pen knife and people try to confiscate it but she just brings out a printed sheet of paper that says that “a knife may be carried as a self defence weapon if it is under 9 inches and is retractable”

•She made the history teacher quit.

•One time she threatened to give someone salmonella because they were giving Anne and Kat a hard time

•Both Anne and Kat are in special ed and someone thought it'd be funny to bully them cuz of it

•She was skipping class in the toilets and two girls walk in and start bad mouthing Anne and Kitty so she kicks open her door and looks at them whilst sucking a lolly pop “hello bitches say goodbye to ur eyebrows”

•Parr is super defensive of the two of them

•She teases them sure but if anyone else tries, they have to sleep with one eye open

•Anne and Kat don't understand why people keep coming up and apologizing to them

•When they ask Parr, she just shrugs and smiles

•Parr used to be super motivated back in year seven. When year eleven rolled around, she became a little more rebellious, first the name tags, then the mouthing off. Then it escalated further and further. No one else but Parr and Anne knows what happened to cause this change

•Parr is soft for Anne and Kat and Anne and Kat alone

•She roughs up Aragon, Seymour and Cleves bc she knows they can take it. She's soft when she needs to be and not many people see that side of her

•Her favourite teachers rarely see that side either. Only during teacher's day when she sneaks into the staffroom to give them homemade cookies

•Parr wears leather jackets to class and no one dares question her.

•Anne learnt Chinese and how to play the guitar during detention so that she could sing for Parr the next time they had a session together

•Anne singing Unchained Melody exactly like in ghost the musical, and does the little elvis riff too

•Parr and Anne facetime and do Kahoots together because they need to study aka theyre competitive as shit

•Cathy gets excited in class and stands on her chair and yells "I KILLED SIRIUS BLACK I KILLED SIRIUS BLACK. U COMING TO KILL ME???" And promptly gets removed from the class.

•Parr gets a "Little Miss Adventurous" award for having the most travelled converstation.

BONUS:

•The queens doing that egg project where they have to bring an egg home and keep it for a week

•Anne calls hers Eggward Eggburt.

•Aragon drops it the moment she gets it

•Anne brings the egg home and makes it into an omelette

•Jane does well till the sixth day where she goes fuck it and uses it to bake cookies.

•Cleves breaks it during lunch after Anne called her a name and she threw it at her

•Kat gives hers to Jane and it's baked into chocolate chip cookies

•Parr shuts hers in the fridge for a week and takes it out at the end of the week

•Anne gets asked where her egg is and she pats her stomach which results in Kitty yelling “YOURE PREGNANT?!”

•Jane gets asked where her egg is and she holds up this cookie jar and offers the teacher one

•Parr is praised for being the only one in class for having an intact egg and then she grabs the egg and breaks it on the teacher's head cuz she 'needed to shut up'

[platypanthewriter]

Strangest-chapter 9

They were kicking the steps to knock snow off their shoes when Will threw the door open, staring them up and down.  

“...Max called.  I told her what Hopper said, about calling him and locking the doors.”

“What?”  Billy grabbed the door frame, trying to untie one shoe while standing in the other, and Will and Steve both reached out to steady him.  “What’s that even mean?”

“If your dad shows up, Sheriff Hopper says to keep you inside with the doors locked, and call him.”  Steve watched as Billy stumbled inside, promptly walked across lumps of snow in his socks, and swore.  “Tried to tell you, but you were starting a fight with a dumpster.”

As Steve struggled with his own shoes, Will followed Billy to the kitchen table.  “Are you okay?”

“We’re supposed to lock him out?”  Billy squinted, frowning between them, and Will nodded.  “Just--lock him out.  Of the house.  It’ll just piss him off--”

Will was staring between them.  “Him? Your dad?”

“Just until Hopper gets here.”  Steve fumbled with his frozen laces with numb fingers.  

“Hopper has to come haul me out from under your bed, he’ll be as pissed off as he is--”  He pulled the snow lumps off his socks, and grimaced, tugging at the transparent wet spots.  “I’m not...”

“He doesn’t know you’re here, don’t freak out.  But if he pulls up in the drive, Hargrove, don’t open the door.  Go upstairs and call Hopper.”

“No.  You’re a fucking moron, you can’t--”

“I’m not, I’m normal, and you’re not dumb either.”  Steve finally kicked off his other shoe, peeled out of his socks in an explosion of all the snow that had worked under the cuffs of his pants, and jogged over to pull a chair out.  He sat the wrong way around in it, facing Billy. “Come on. If you see his car. No reason to think he even knows you’re here. Just slide the lock closed on the door, go upstairs, and lock your bedroom door.”  Billy shook his head, glancing at Steve’s bare red feet and focusing on pulling his own socks off. “B--Hargrove.  Go upstairs.  Call Hopper. Wait for me.”

“I’m not--I’m--what are you saying, even, you’re gonna--you’re scaring your kid.”  Billy waved at Will, who swallowed.  

“If he doesn’t wanna hear, he can go in the other room.”  Steve reached out and squeezed Will’s shoulder, trying to grin convincingly enough that his shoulders would relax.  He couldn’t. “Hargrove. Seriously--”

“I’m starting lunch,” Billy leaned away, standing, “--come on, toddler, help me out.”

“Okay...”  Will’s eyes flicked between them, wide and worried, and Steve leaned over to poke him in the wrinkle between his eyebrows.  

“Will, he’s gonna be fine, if we can get him off his bullshit--”

“Shut up, Harrington,” Billy sighed, crouching by a lower cupboard.  “Will, get the cheese out--Harrington, sit your ass down, I don’t want food poisoning.”

“I’m getting us socks,” Steve rolled his eyes, and grabbed a raggy towel from the pantry to kick around in the ice water on the floor.  When he wandered back in with socks, Billy was chopping things, and Will was pressing them into a pan.  

“Oh thank god,” Billy rolled his eyes, “The king’s back to supervise.  What ever did we do without him.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, dropping into a chair to put on his dry socks.  “...yeah, you better drop what you’re doing and get my advice, I lived for two weeks once on spray-can Velveeta.”

Billy choked, covering his sputter, and leaned on the counter to laugh.  “What?!”

“Why?!” Will giggled.

“I used instant coffee on cereal once,” Steve wiggled his toes, enjoying the warmth.  “Makes it pretty soggy.”

“Oh my god,” Billy dropped his head into his arms, cackling.

“Oh, I do have some wise food advice, actually:  Orange juice is not good on instant oatmeal.”  Steve waggled his eyebrows, and Billy gagged.

“Ew ew ew ew ewww,” Will was chanting.

“You aren’t supposed to heat up potato salad, I think,” Steve narrowed his eyes at the window, and Billy smacked the spatula down, glared over, and yelled “No!”  Steve fought to hold a straight face. “They put it in with the fried chicken and applesauce! It wasn’t too bad all mixed together, kinda like that Chinese fried stuff with sweet sauce--”

“I’m gonna hurl,” Will groaned.

Billy stared over, laughing, with wide eyes.  “Are you shitting me?!  How do you not have scurvy.” 

“I ate some teabags once,” Steve replied, cheerfully, and Billy stomped over to slide a hand around the back of his head and yank him into a kiss.

“You’re gonna die without me.”

Steve laughed against his mouth.  “--I get takeout--”

“I need to talk to that Williams lady,” Billy stared into his face, “--maybe she can feed you sometimes.”

Steve grabbed his hands, and pressed clean socks into them, grinning up, and Billy swung them to smack into the side of Steve’s head.  

“You’re gonna write these damn letters and tell me what you’re eating.”  He smacked Steve with the socks again, and Steve started to cackle, collapsing against the table.  “Don’t you fucking lie to me. And order some goddamn broccoli.”

“I can--I can do that,” Steve wheezed into his arms, wiping his eyes.  “I’ll eat anything. Nancy used to feed me her brussels sprouts, she hates ‘em--”

“Make those, then!” Billy whapped him across the head with the socks.  “If you fucking--”

“Gross!” Will gagged.  “They’re worse than the teabags!”

“They are really not good,” Steve agreed, batting away the socks, and Billy stopped to squint at him.  

“...then why were you eating them.”

“I mean, I didn’t love them,” Steve grinned up, “--but I sure loved Nancy.”

Billy went still, then dropped into a chair to pull the socks on.  “...get Will’s book, and shut up, Harrington.” Before Steve could comment that reading aloud silently sounded like a challenge, Billy kicked his chair, hard enough to shove him into the table, and stalked off into the front room.  When he returned, he went to smack Steve in the head with the book, and Steve grabbed his forearm, turned it to take the book, and kissed the soft part of Billy’s wrist--then wished he’d looked up, because Billy made a soft noise in his throat, smacked Steve’s hands away, and jogged over to lean against the counter.

“Uh,” Will leaned to look at him, then back at Steve, “--should--what should I--”

Billy cleared his throat.  “Add some more goddamn ricotta.” 

 They ended up making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, waiting the interminable hours while the smell of lasagna started to fill the house.  Billy made noises about their ‘spoiling their lunch,’ Will called him a mom, and fled to Steve, who held him in place while Billy hesitated before tickling his feet.  

Listening to anyone trying to read Lord of the Rings with peanut butter in their mouths was wildly entertaining.  Particularly, Steve thought, when they’re talking about elves, and all the Great Battles of History.  He couldn’t see why the recitation of these battles was much more exciting than the paper he still needed to outline about the Revolutionary War, but the Trespassers William were giggling, so he tried to pay attention.  They settled in the fort.  

Steve took up the unfamiliar Nintendo controller, trying to figure out why you’d want to program a video game to play tennis.  He was half-listening to Will reading about the Fellowship Of Midgets meeting some hippie dude in the woods, when Billy dropped next to him on the mattress and curled up with his head in Steve’s lap.  

Steve won the tennis match, and ran his fingers absently along Billy’s cheek during the victory music.  His thumb caught. “Wow, you need to shave--and you’ve got so many freckles,” he bent down to look, grinning, “--get a little sun off the snow this morning?”  After seeing tanned abs in the gym showers in the middle of Indiana winter, Steve had had his suspicions about Billy Hargrove actually lairing in a tanning bed like some kind of...Californian Sunpire, but the freckles clinched it.  

“Shut up.”  Billy batted his hand away.  “Figured it didn’t matter, not like you’re gonna like me any better no matter what I look like.”

“That’s so true.”  Steve tossed the controller aside, gathering Billy up in his arms and peppering kisses all over his face.  Billy yelped out a stream of fucks, squirming, and Steve flopped sideways to put an arm around him, nuzzling his side.  “I promise I’ll like you just as much tomorrow, when you cover up all your freckles, as long as I get to say hello to them today--” he pressed kisses to the warm tanned skin where Billy’s shirt had ridden up.  “You’ve got freckles on your back--”

Billy groaned, smacking at his hand.  “--get off me or get me off, you sadistic fucking tease.”  

“Guys,” Will huffed.  Steve felt the book smack his shoulder.  “You’re missing it.”

“Oh no,” Steve whispered into Billy’s side, and he kicked, squirming.  “I’m just talking--you crawled into my lap, take your punishment like a man, Hargrove--”

“Fucking--tickles--Harrington!”

Will groaned.  “I’m going to skip to Bree.  We’re meeting Steve there, so pay attention.”

“Why are you doing this to me,” Billy rolled backwards to try and squish Steve’s face, but Steve pushed himself back upright, grinning down.  Billy reached up and pushed Steve’s grinning face away, then flailed to grab a pillow and drop it over his crotch. “I’ll talk, I’ll talk, whatever you want--laugh it up over there, dickless, talk to me after you hit puberty--”

Will threw another pillow at him.  “Guys,”  He crawled over to lean against Steve’s side, and folded his arms.  

“Yeah, our child is right here, Harrington, keep your hands to yourself.”

Will giggled, leaning to bump his shoulder into Steve’s arm.  “Come on, pay attention.” He started to read again, and Steve moved the nintendo controller away from where Billy’s curls were starting to claim it for the Kingdom of Hargrove.  He stroked through them, and Billy looked up to meet his eyes, flushed, and smirked, turning his head into the crook of Steve’s knee. Steve ran his thumb over rapidly-reddening freckles, and Billy grabbed his hands, holding them to either side of his head, mouthing ‘Stop’.

‘Sorry,’ Steve mouthed back, tugging at his hands, but Billy squeezed tighter, glaring up.  Steve bit his lips together, trying to think about something that wasn’t how empty his house would be after Billy left, or how empty his house would be if Billy saw his father coming, and walked out the door.  He tried to focus on Will’s voice, the story of, apparently, children drunk at a bar, dancing on tables, and threatened by a hobo, and then realized Billy was silently laughing into his leg.

“Let Steve read,” Billy grinned up.  “He’s starting to rock in place, give him something to do that isn’t petting me.”

“Eugh,” Will groaned.  “Fine.”

Steve accepted the book, cleared his throat, and continued the adventures of Froggo--

“Frodo--” Will corrected.

“Sandwich Gimpy--”

“Do it right, Steve!” Will hit him with a pillow, and Steve sank the hand not holding the book into Billy’s curls, grinning.  

“Fine.  So these children ran away from home, and now they’re drunk--”

“They’re Hobbits!” Will gasped.

“--some homeless dude at the motel yelled at them--”

“--it’s not a motel!” 

“--and now he’s telling them the forces of darkness will be fooled by pillows under their blankets?  Nice.”  

Billy muffled sniggers against Steve’s jeans.  

Will was staring at him in open-mouthed horror, and Steve fought to keep a straight face.  “What happened to that stoned hippie character they met in the woods? After they spent the night in the haunted graveyard.”

“T-Tom Bombadil,” Will squeaked, and Billy’s shoulders shook harder.  “He’s a nature spirit--and don’t call Aragorn son of Arathorn ‘some homeless dude’!”

“He is clearly described as some homeless dude,” Billy put in, and Steve nodded.  

“Yeah, he’s an angry hobo.”

“In a bar, no less,” Billy added, cackling as Will scrambled for a pillow and whacked him with it.  “He probably smells great.”  

“Shut up, shut up!” Will giggled, smacking the pillow at whichever bit of either of them he could reach.  

Steve leaned closer over Billy, shielding him with his arm and shoulders, and Billy watched his face, swallowing, then turned on his side again, grabbing the pillow away from Will and holding it over his head.  Steve blinked down, wanting to pull the pillow away, or lean to see what he was hiding, but he cleared his throat, and returned to reading, sitting on his other hand. He half paid attention to the kids in the Will’s book buying a pony, and finding out their wizard babysitter was wildly irresponsible.  “Wait, he was supposed to meet them, didn’t show up for months, and now he’s missing?  He should not be asked to babysit anymore--” and deciding to travel with the hobo--“What, he’s a king hobo?”

“He’s not a hobo!” Will smacked the back of his head.  “He’s a king!”

“King of nothing, sounds like,” Billy snorted.  

“Like me, I guess,” Steve risked freeing his hand--it was falling asleep--and tapped Billy’s elbow on the way to patting his shoulder through the pillow.  

Billy tensed, then relaxed again, huffing a laugh.  “Stevagorn, son of Stevathorn?”

“My sword is not busted,” Steve grumbled back, and Billy cackled into his knee.  “My sword is fine, I swear, just give me a minute, this usually never happens--”  His jeans felt hot where Billy was silently wheezing with laughter.  

“I think they make drugs for that,” he whispered, and Steve bit back a snort.  “Get your ‘sword’ pointing, uh, north again. It’s okay, Harrington, it happens to everyone.  Except me.”

Steve snorted.  “Of course.”

“He gets a good sword,” Will rolled his eyes.  “We meet Billy soon, come on.”

“Funny how this Tolkien guy knew us,” Billy muttered, tossing the pillow at Will, and grabbing Steve’s hand to hold against his chest.  “Who’s Nancy, then?”

“Right?  She’s an elf!”  Will flopped to lie against Billy’s back, and Steve felt him startle.  “I’m Frodo, because--”

“Hey, Byers, don’t just slam into him, okay, don’t just--grab him or--stuff,” Steve interrupted, and Billy snorted.

“What?  Sorry?” Will sat up on his elbow, and Billy groaned into Steve’s jeans, burying his face.  

“Shut up, Harrington, it’s fine, I’m not--I’m not fucking scared of Will Byers--”

Steve grinned, ruffling Will’s hair.  “Yeah, no biggie, just don’t.  Who’s Lucas, Will?  Which...hobbit.”

“Uh,” Will blinked wide eyes at him, and Steve raised his eyebrows.  “Yeah, okay, um. Lucas says he doesn’t care, but if he has to be anybody it’s Merry, because he’s the only one with any goddamn sense.  Once the floodgates were opened,Will took them through a recitation of everyone they knew as compared to a Lord of the Rings character, down to his science teacher as some moth-summoning wizard, and Joyce Byers as queen of the elves.  

When he started to wind down, Steve started reading again.  He stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth as he carefully turned the page one-handed, and narrated on.  Will leaned over to get whispered permission to thunk against Billy’s back again, and Steve’s hand started tingling again as Billy squeezed it too hard.

 When the timer went off on the lasagna, Steve was reading about the suspiciously familiar group of tiny idiots being herded across a river by their lost wizard (who he pictured, privately, as Hopper).  Billy rolled to his feet, leaned in for a quick smooch, and then loped off to the kitchen. Will grinned at the side of Steve’s head, and Steve felt like a dad on TV, who ought to continue to read his newspaper while his wife cooked, but decided to be a better-than-shitty boyfriend instead.  He tried to stay out of Billy’s way, setting the table.  

Billy sat the lasagna pan across the burners, and stopped to stare out the window.  “I miss the water.”

Steve dropped his handful of silverware in the center of the table, and came up behind him to slide his arms around Billy’s waist, kissing his neck.  “...the beach?”

“Used to surf,” Billy sighed, letting Steve sway them together.  

Steve bit his lips together, thinking, then went back to the mark he was making on Billy’s neck.  He ran his teeth over it, and then tightened his grip around Billy’s ribs, laughing at the sudden weight of swearing Billy against him.

“Fuck you, Harrington,” he muttered, flushing.

“Y’know there’s lots of white water rafting around here,” Steve licked his neck, grinning, and let Billy grab his hair and shove him away, “--it’s not surfing, but it’s water, it’s fast--”

“You should go on a date,” Will prompted, from the doorway.  “Go river rafting.”

“...yeah, maybe not in February,” Steve leaned away from the spatula Billy flailed at him, then dodged around the table, “--not in a river--”

“I dunno, I think a dunk in cold water would do you some good,” Billy snarled at the lasagna.  

“It’s probably like the book, actually, all the white water.”  Will plonked himself into a chair, bouncing.

Steve nodded.  “Wizards in rubber rafts, elves in lifejackets--”  

“Shut up,” Will laughed.  “Now I wanna go.”

“You’d probably like it.”  Steve leaned to catch Billy’s eye, and watched him glance over, and then growl at the plates he was serving up.  “It’s kinda fast and rough, y’know--”

Billy turned to bury his head in his arms against the counter and groan, and Steve laughed so hard he started wheezing, as Will frowned between them, narrow-eyed.

 By the time Will finished his lasagna, he was bouncing in place, ready to snatch Billy’s plate and dance around Steve’s chair until he surrendered his, and usher them back to the drudgery of elves.  Steve leaned to groan into Billy’s shoulder. “Maybe we’ll all get laryngitis,” he whispered, and felt Billy’s laugh more than heard it. Will was clattering around with the plates, and Steve leapt up to take over, and suggest they get reading while he did the dishes.  Anything to have it over, he thought, grimacing as Billy derailed into songs that referenced elves and wizards, and he and Will gathered around the stereo again.  Like he sounds happy so often, Steve rolled his eyes at himself.  Nah, I’m just here wishing he’d shut up and pay attention to me.  I’m such a nice guy. Just the best. God, no wonder Nancy thinks I’m bullshit.  

“Book Billy” was introduced, some knight named Boromir who, according to Will, basically wanted to grab the ring and raise his middle fingers at the rest of the world.

“Sounds about right,” Steve muttered, drying the plates, putting them away, and leaning against the counter for a long moment wondering whether to intrude.  As the chapter continued (sporadically, between songs), a bunch of dudes at a table got a history lesson about some evil empire, and he thought Nancy would probably enjoy this too.  Smart fucking brunettes.  He sighed, reminded by the descriptions of some elf fighting huge spiders that he didn’t want any pony-sized arachnids in his house, and got out the duster.

“...are you cleaning house?”  Billy stopped to stare, and Steve shrugged.

“I can hear you guys fine.”

“It’s Saturday,” Will threw a pillow, missing Steve by about two yards, “--come back.”

“You need help?”  Billy offered, leaning back on his elbows so his unzipped sweatshirt slid open.  

Steve shook his head, but wandered over to kiss the side of his head.  “I got it, honey bun.” Billy grabbed his sleeve, yanking him back down and leaning against his shoulder.  His sweatshirt was another one of Steve’s, and he tried not to grin, liking something about the idea of something of his keeping Billy Hargrove cozy and warm.

“Guys,” Will hissed, as Steve leaned in for a kiss.  Billy closed his eyes, sitting up into it, and Will stood, clearing his throat.  “Uh, I can go take a bath, or--just--just go upstairs--I guess--”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Steve pulled back, disentangling Billy’s hands from his shirt.  Billy held on to his hands, frowning upward, so Steve pushed him onto his back, pressed kisses all over his fingers and swung a leg over him to kneel with his knees to either side of Billy’s chest.  “Go ‘head and read,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss Billy’s grin.  

Billy slid his arms up around Steve’s neck, and Steve grinned into the kiss, bracing his arms on either side of Billy’s head.  

“Lemme go.  I’ll let you get back to finding that ring somebody dropped in the river,” he whispered into Billy’s mustache.  

“Comfy right here,” Billy whispered back, and Will cleared his throat, trotting off to rummage with something in the kitchen.  Billy slid his hands over Steve’s shoulders, then up the sides of his neck, pulling him into another kiss.  

Of course kissing somebody hot while half on top of them had Steve’s dick enthusiastically wanting to come off the bench and join the game, so he grabbed Billy’s hands and kissed them again, squeezing his wrists together with one hand and pushing himself up and away with the other.  

When Will stuck his face cautiously around the edge of the doorway, Billy’d gotten hold of Steve’s pants, and yanked him back down, curling around him as Steve cackled, batting at his hands.  Billy crawled back into the fort, hauling Steve by whatever he could reach, and laid half on top of him, throwing his leg over Steve’s flailing ones. He just wriggled closer when Steve tried to escape, waving Will over, and Will finally sighed and sat in a pile of pillows with his legs across theirs.  “I got the chocolates. I’m just gonna sit on you, okay, that’s what my mom does when we fight--”

“Feed me some chocolate, asshole,” Steve muttered into Billy’s shoulder, after trying to free a hand.  At least getting a chocolate would mean his hands off Steve, instead of stroking up and down his side, like he was fanning the heat running through Steve’s veins.  Steve found himself actually missing Tommy, and his annoying habit of just putting on porn and jacking it in Steve’s front room, without asking first whether maybe Steve had anyone over.  I could do with some porn, he huffed, blowing Billy’s curls out of his face.  I bet Tommy isn’t returning mine, either.  Dickhead.

Billy leaned one arm across Steve’s forearms--Steve swore, kicking--and leaned back to rummage in the box, returning with a chocolate he rubbed along Steve’s lips.  

“Fuck you,” Steve panted, after trying to grab it with his tongue, and mostly just licking Billy’s fingers.  

Billy stared at his mouth, and brought the chocolate around for another pass, so Steve bit him.  Billy rocked back, overturning the box of chocolates, and Steve grabbed at them to press both his advantage, and a handful of chocolates and their paper cups into Billy’s face.  

Billy flailed back, yelled “Shit!”, and kicked out, and Steve scrambled away to snatch up his rags.  The chocolates had rained over Will, and he sighed, dumping handfuls back in the box.

“--I need a shower,” Billy rolled to his feet, and jogged upstairs.  

Will wrinkled his nose, watching him go, and Steve stopped dusting to think.  

“I…’ll be back in a sec.”  

“Oh my god, gross,” Will moaned as he ran out.  

When Steve ran upstairs, Billy was leaving his own room and heading to Steve’s with an armload of clothes.  “Hey--”

“Fuck off,” Billy muttered, elbowing around him.  “My stuff’s in your shower.”

“Okay…” Steve blinked at his hunched shoulders.  “Sorry? Oh, no, wait. Can I, uh, get something from your room?”  

“What?!  Your goddamn room.  Whatever.” 

“It’s not, it’s--”  

Billy kicked the door to Steve’s bedroom shut after him, and Steve trailed off, then shrugged, pulling the crumpled note with Billy’s mom’s number out of his pocket, ducking into Billy’s room, and locking the door behind him.  

The phone rang for a long time.  Maybe. What with Billy thudding angrily around in the shower, any time might seem long, Steve figured.  Finally, a woman picked up.  

“Uh, hello,” Steve paced around the floor, staring at the note in his hand like it would be reasonable to read her own number to her over the line.

“...Billy?” she whispered, and he stopped, one foot half in the air.  “Billy, honey, no, you know you can’t call here, not until your birthday--”

“My name’s Steve Harrington, ma’am,” he cut her off, because she sounded sniffly, like she might have started to cry.  “I’m Billy’s, uh, friend. Can you talk to me?”

“What?”  Her lungs made a squeaky noise, and Steve grabbed the phone with both hands, like an an idiot.  Even if she was here, she wouldn’t want some guy grabbing at her.  Shit, she cries as easily as he does.  

“I’m Billy’s friend from school--”

“Did something happen?!” she hiccuped into what sounded like wheezing, and Steve flailed a hand, stomping in a circle.  

“He’s fine!  He’s great! I mean, he’s--he’s okay, ma’am, please don’t--I’m sorry--”

She sniffled again, and took a deep breath.  “S-Steve, you said?”

“Yes!  Steve Harrington!  He’s--shit, what do you want to know?  You can’t talk to him?!”

“...I’m not sure I should talk to you either,” she cleared her throat.  “Doesn’t sound like he tells you much.”

“Uh,” Steve grimaced out the window, trying to distill his history with Billy Hargrove into something his mother would want to hear.  “Um, just--his dad just told him you left. Uh, he doesn’t know you aren’t supposed to talk to him, he thinks--”

“What,” her voice shook, cracking into hoarseness.  “Neil--just--he thinks--”

“So you want to talk to him?”

“Of course I want to talk to him,” she hissed into the phone, and Steve scrabbled at his hair as he paced, because now it sounded like she was suppressing sobs.  “That--Neil--”

“Why the hell did you marry that--” Steve flopped backwards on the bed, rubbing his face.  “He’s--Billy’s--staying with me--”

“What?!” 

“You know his dad,” Steve growled back.  “He’s here. He wants to go home to California.  But he thinks you don’t want him, so--”

There was a thunk at the door, and Steve realized the shower had shut off at some point.  “...why’s my door locked, Harrington.”

“He told him I don’t want him?” she snarled back, and he felt relief swelling his lungs.  “Wait, home to California?  Where the hell is he?”

The door thudded so hard it creaked in its frame.  “Whatcha doin’ in there, Harrington,” Billy yelled.

“That’s him, isn’t it--he doesn’t know you’re calling,” she whispered.

“He thinks you wouldn’t want him to,” Steve gritted back, listening to her tears, but also aware of Neil Hargrove’s entire being.  “You left him with his dad.  So you do wanna see him.”  Another bang came at the door, like Billy’d kicked it.

The weight of the thudding sounded like Billy was actually going to break the door down, and Steve plugged that ear, trying to hear her, then yelled “Shove it, Hargrove, gimme a goddamn minute,” and the pounding stopped.  

“What is Neil doing,” she whispered, then, “--shit, shit, I have to--I have to get to work, I have to--call me later...Steve Harrington.  I think--I think we need to talk, call back, okay, I can’t--I can’t be in contact with him, but this needs to--call tomorrow.  Call me tomorrow.  Shit.”  Steve winced as she slammed the phone down.  

 Billy’d gone quiet outside, and when Steve unlocked the door, he didn’t come in.  Steve stuck his head out, warily, to see him leaning against the banister, gaze on the trees outside the window.  “You needed to use the phone without me hearing,” he huffed a laugh. “My room, huh? I thought--”

“Sorry.”  Steve stepped closer, hands up like he’d dropped a weapon.  

“What’d I do.  Was it Hopper, or--or my dad--”

“No, no, it’s not--nothing like that--”  Shit, of course she didn’t say she wanted to see him, she didn’t say why she hasn’t--I can guess, but if I say I talked to her, found out nothing, and she sounded real sad he’s gonna feed me my teeth.

“Was it Nancy.”  Billy swallowed, rubbing his face.

“--y-yeah.  It was Nancy,” Steve nodded, and Billy folded his arms, leaning his face in them.  

“Shit.  You can just--you can tell me to fuck off.  You don’t have to lock me out--”

“Crap.  Sorry.” Steve ran a hand up Billy’s shoulder, and when he leaned into it, up and down his back.  

“You getting back with her?”

“No!  No, it was, uh, about Will, y’know.”

“...so you locked me out?”  Billy’s skin was still flushed from the shower, Steve figured, but his eyes were suspiciously glassy.  “I’m always the one there, with Will, don’t try to--”

“No, I called her before, from the IHOP.  That’s who I was talking to. Outside.”

“When you were being sweet to me in the IHOP.”  Billy dropped his head in his arms again. “Had to check in with Nancy first.  She give you good advice?”

“Kinda gave me confidence, y’know.”  Steve leaned against the banister next to him, feeling on safer ground.

“Yeah, of course that wasn’t me,” Billy laughed, pushing himself up, and wiping his face.  “Fuck. Of fucking course.” He shoved by, stomped into his room, and Steve could hear him blowing his nose.  When he pushed the door open again, Billy’d flopped backwards on the bed to stare at the ceiling.  

“Hey,” Steve nudged Billy’s leg with his foot, “--come on.  Don’t freak out about who was better at the gay sex talk. Nancy wasn’t even there.  You were perfect.”

Billy laughed, and got up, grabbing Steve’s elbow as he stalked by, and dragging him towards the stairs.  When they finally made it to the fort--since Steve had to lean in a few times and kiss Billy’s face, and get batted away--Will narrowed his eyes at them, and handed Billy the book.

“Ha, Will thinks you cause more trouble than I do.”  Steve kissed him again, enjoying the contrast between mustache and freshly-shaven skin, but dodged away from the grabby hand flailing at his belt loops.

“Do you guys have to keep doing that,” Will groaned, trying to reorganize the box of chocolates by the included map.  “Can’t you just tell me, and I’ll go for a walk, or--”

“Harrington’s too sexy for that,” Billy licked his thumb, turning the page, and Steve threw a dusty rag at him, “--I can’t keep my animal impulses in check--”  He threw the rag back, and Steve dodged, flipping him off.

“Gross!”  Will giggled.  “You’re more fun than Jonathan and Nancy.”  Billy and Steve both went still. “I mean, they don’t, you know, they’re trying so hard.”  Billy started reading again before he finished his sentence, and Will leaned to thump into his shoulder.  “I mean, you guys aren’t all nervous, it’s just like you’re friends.”

“Friends with animal impulses,” Steve slid around the edge of the fort and tackled Billy to the bed, dropping solidly along his body, and wrapping an arm around his chest.  

“Oof,” Billy let the book fall over his face, “--I don’t think he wants us to do that here, Harrington.”

“Mmm.”  Steve let his head rest against Billy’s warm shoulder, feeling the vibration of his voice.  “I mean, we aren’t tryin’ as hard.  He’s already seen me wandering around like a freak at three in the morning, with a bat, he knows what I’m like.”

Billy snorted.  “You don’t exactly have to dress black tie, for me.”

“I mean, I would,” Steve propped his chin up on his folded arms, and Billy kicked at him, grinning.  “I’d throw on a tux. Take you out--and I know you get all dolled up for me--”  He reached out to brush his thumb along some freckles, and Billy bit at his fingers.  “--it’s actually kinda neat to see you, y’know. Chill out.”

“I do not get dolled up,” Billy growled.  “What is it with you and freckles--”

“You’re always checking your reflection,” Will grinned, “--both of you.”

“My hair’s my best feature,” Steve grumbled into Billy’s chest, and Billy cracked up, dropping the book to wrap both arms around him, and rolling them to the side, away from Will.  

“You trying to look pretty for me?” he whispered against Steve’s neck, and Steve sighed.

“I mean, probably you’d still dump me if I, like, grew a patchy beard--wore bellbottoms--”

Billy snickered into his neck, hugging him a little too hard.

“You lost our place,” Will groaned, flipping through the book.  As he started reading again, Steve’s eyes started drifting shut.  

 When he jerked awake, he was flat on his back, mouth open and dry, and patting next to him did not reveal Billy Hargrove.

“He’s out having a smoke,” Will sighed, and Steve’s lungs unstitched themselves and worked properly.  

“I’m just,” he mumbled, stumbling upright, squinting at the door, and listing toward it in a unintentional crescent shape to fumble with the knob.

“You do that,” Will muttered.  

Billy was out by the pool, sitting in a lawn chair he’d tipped back on two legs, and Steve stopped and groaned into his hands.  “I don’t know why I’m out here.” He rubbed his face. “God.” The snow crunched under his shoes as he tromped back toward the stairs.

“King Steve!”  Billy shouted. “Harrington!”  Steve turned around at the sound of crunching footsteps behind him.  Billy was standing a few feet back, rubbing his arms up and down his sleeves.  He flipped the stub of his cigarette away, blowing the last cloud of smoke into his fingers.

“...what?” Steve stomped in the snow, shivering.

“No idea.”  Billy stepped closer, watching his face.  “What’s wrong?”

“It’s stupid.”  Steve shrugged. “Just woke up dumb.  Y’know.”

“More than usual?” 

“Thanks, asshole,” Steve snorted.  “Come on, it’s cold.”

“Did you...want to ask me something, or…”  Billy cocked his head, stepping closer.

“Nah,” Steve reached up to fix his hair, “--I didn’t want anything, I don’t even know why I’m out here.”

“...I can think of a few ways to spend time,” Billy laughed, waggling his tongue, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“Oh, yeah, out here in the snow, that’s totally what I wanted.  Nah, I just woke up and--” He waved a hand.

“...I told Will where I was going,” Billy narrowed his eyes, “--just wanted a smoke.”

“It’s dumb, okay, I just--”  Steve clapped his hands to his cheeks, suddenly the warmest part of his body.  “I just wanted to see you, I wasn’t--I don’t need anything. It doesn’t make any sense, okay--”

“...what.”  Billy walked up so close they would have bumped chests, if Steve hadn’t stepped back.

“I’m kinda dumb and clingy,” Steve turned back to the house, snickering.  “I used to get lonesome and climb in Nancy’s window. I know you’re leaving and I’m just, like, the owner of a free couch--” 

Billy shoved him back around and grabbed his face.  “...you--you idiot,” he stared, holding Steve’s jaw with cupped hands.  “You--you fucking moron, you--”

“That’s what I’m saying, jesus,” Steve laughed, ending in a muffled curse as Billy kissed him, and kissed him again, and then yanked him close with one arm crushing his ribs, and the other fisted a little too tightly in his hair.  Steve cautiously hugged him back. “The hair, dude, don’t scalp me--”

Billy’s fingers loosened--slightly.  “You dumbass.  You--how are you in school.  How do you drive.  Did a brick fall on your head as a child.  Did you stick your face so far in eating Nancy out you couldn’t get oxygen.  Are you brain-damaged.”

“Yeah, probably,” Steve rolled his eyes, “--does it--”

“Shut up, idiot--okay,” Billy took a shaky breath, “--okay, you--you wanna keep everyone safe, right.  I’m--we’re, like, you know me now, you just want--”  He squeezed tighter, voice cracking, and his fingers dug in to Steve’s ribs.  “I can--I can do it. I”ll do it, okay. I’ll--avoid him. Somehow. I’ll lock up, I won’t let him in.  I’ll try to get upstairs. Won’t--” he swallowed, “--I won’t get in his car. I’ll--I can--wait for you.  That’s what you want, right--”  

Steve’s heart had started pounding when Billy grabbed him and kissed him, stumbling over his words, and he’d had a vague, kind of--in hindsight--hilarious idea of where Billy was headed.  I’ll let you get between me and my scary dad sure wasn’t it, and he cocked his head as Billy pulled back to survey his face.

Billy laughed.  “Shit.  Damn it.  Of course that wasn’t it, I’m getting it wrong.  Again. What do you--” He shut up as Steve wedged his arm between them, cupping Billy’s jaw to put a thumb over his mouth.  

“No, wait.  Stop--stop there.  Shut up, Hargrove, it’s good.  You’re good.”

“I’m good,” Billy snorted.

“That’s good,” Steve pulled their foreheads together, holding the back of Billy’s head with both hands, and staring him down.  “That’s more important. You’re important.  Good.  Good--good job.  If something happens, wait for me.”

“Okay,” Billy whispered, closing his eyes.  “Yeah.” He huffed a laugh, but his shoulders slumped a little, letting Steve press their heads together.  “Wait for you.”

“Get away from him, go upstairs--”

“Fair warning,” Billy laughed, clenching him painfully close again.  “I lock that front door on him and I’m not climbing stairs, you’ll find me just inside that door in a pile of shoes.  Probably--probably pissing myself, christ.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue, and clocked Billy’s repeated swallows, and cold sweat.  “...he doesn’t know you’re here. Try to--at least--try to get where you can’t hear him, okay.”

“Yeah,” Billy nodded against his head, shivering, and Steve pulled him closer, into a kiss.  Billy turned his head, opening his mouth easily, but Steve kept it soft and sweet, just wanting to take some warmth, and press it into Billy’s skin.

“Okay,” he whispered.  “You ready to go back inside?”

“What’d you really want me to say,” Billy whispered back.  

“No, you’re good.  You’re--” Steve swallowed, his throat unexpectedly raw, “--you’re fine.  You’re--perfect, you’re great. It’s--be safe, Hargrove. Just--be okay, that’s--that’s plenty, that’s enough.”

Billy laughed, pulling back to wipe his eyes.  “Anything you want, your majesty. You sure there’s nothing--”

“Nope,” Steve threw his arm around Billy’s shoulders, “--no, nope, that’s--that’s better, jesus.  Let’s get back inside. Come on. Chocolate.”

 They returned to listen while Will read about the whole band going up a mountain, which sounded awful, and into some underground set of tunnels, which sounded infinitely worse, particularly after Idiot Pippin decided to find every mysterious thing in the caves and throw a rock at it.  He threw a rock at the water outside, and Billy flailed his arms along with the book’s flailing tentacles until Steve leaned to bump shoulders. “Come on, you’d totally have thrown the rock,” he whispered, and Billy snorted.

“I’d have cannonballed in,” he whispered back, and Will lowered the book to glare at them as they both cracked up.

Steve tried to cover his snickering.  “Who’s Pippin, Will?  

“Dustin is Pippin--”

“Yeah, that scans,” Billy mumbled, as Steve laughed into his shoulder.

When Dustin-Pippin’s rocks drew the monsters up through the tunnels, Steve sipped his hot chocolate, gazing into the middle distance. Billy slid an arm around him, kissing him under his ear where his neck met his jaw.   Billy makes hot chocolate like I do on...bad nights, Steve thought, letting the peppermint swirl around his mouth.  Even when he’s drinking it himself.  He frowned at the memory of Billy up at 3am, under an afghan, drinking Steve’s pointlessly-complicated ritualistic blend of flavors.  And just handing it to me, when I got up, his mouth quirked.  Then, out of the blue, the wizard fell to his death, and they both stared at Will.

“What the fuck?” asked Billy.

“Hopper, no,” Steve whispered.

 Steve sat up in bed, cheeks and exposed arms numb with cold, heart thudding.  He squinted around at the Christmas lights of the fort, rubbing his face as he took in the burrito-lump that was Will on his right, and most of the covers, and the empty space to his left.  He patted it, and the sheets were cool. He’d forbidden the thermostat to both Williams, but crawled to the end of the mattress and out to raise it, blinking through the dim to try and avoid all the moved furniture.  

Billy was a lump at the kitchen table, securely wrapped in afghan, his hands around a steaming mug.  

Steve turned up the heat, rubbing his arms, and wandered in to his line of vision.  “What’s my heater doing in the kitchen?”

“--here,” Billy slid the mug towards him, and got up to open the cupboard.

“...I don’t need to steal your drink,” Steve grinned up, and shivered.  “I could share it.”

Billy turned back to assess him, then came back over and sat down.  Steve scooted closer, pulling an edge of the afghan over, and leaning against Billy’s warm side and shoulder.  His eyes started to drift shut again.

Billy watched.  “...the fuck d’you do that,” he asked, his voice exhausted and gravelly.

Steve had been about to comment on the clock, which read two-thirty-eight in the morning, or that Billy’d obviously been awake a while, so he squinted back, lifting the mug to inhale a familiar mix of marshmallows, candy cane, chocolate, and coffee.  “Huh?”

Billy leaned their heads together, his breath warm against Steve’s cheek.  “This.”  

“Shit,” Steve jerked away, laughing.  “--fuck. Sorry--”

Billy yanked him back in, rubbing his stubble against Steve’s jaw, and Steve snickered, trying to shove him away without waking Will.

“--stop--the fuck are you doing, you dickhead--”

“Shut up, you know you’ll cry without me,” Billy stubble-burned his flailing forearms, and Steve tried to suppress cackles.

“Fuck you, man, I’ll fucking stop--” Steve squeaked as Billy turned to hold him close with both arms, switching to licking his struggling hands.  The chairs under them creaked as Steve leaned away, squirming, and trying not to laugh, and Billy pulled him closer.  

“Poor lonely Harrington,” Billy whispered, biting his arm, and Steve pushed at his face, kicking at his chair and trying to hold his breath against giggles.  “Gonna tape a picture of me to your pillow? Hug it every night?”

“Stop it,” Steve hissed back, grinning.  “Stop licking me with your stink tongue, Hargrove--”

The mug of hot chocolate jostled, and they both froze, before Billy’s smirk turned into sniggers.  He leaned into Steve’s shoulder, relaxing his arms into a hug.  

“So you really don’t want me to stop,” Steve whispered in his ear, grabbing the mug and taking a sip.  

“Never said I wanted you to sit three feet away and fucking--stare at me like a hungry dog,” Billy snorted into his shoulder, and Steve seriously considered dumping the hot chocolate down his back.

“Pretty sure I wasn’t doing that.”  He rolled his eyes, but slid his fingers through Billy’s curls, sipping the hot chocolate and squinting through the holes in the afghan to try and read the clock on the microwave.  “You stare at people, they start scooting away. Nancy used to--”

“But I’m a friend, right,” Billy laughed softly.  “Bet you do this with all your friends.  Bet you sleep in Tommy’s lap.”

“Maybe when we were like six,” Steve cocked his head to try and bite a piece off the top of the candy cane.  “Not sure you know what friends are like, Hargrove--”

“Yeah, you noticed,” Billy snorted.  “Not really friend material--”

“Wha?”  Steve stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth to try and capture the candy cane without pulling his other hand out of Billy’s curls.

“What, you think I had friends?” 

“I like you.”  Steve felt his cheeks heat.  He got his teeth on the candy cane, and crunched.

“Yeah, well, took me a while to grow up and get sexy.”

“...no, I mean, you are, but--”

Billy leaned into Steve’s fingers in his hair.  “I’m saying once I got fuckable people didn’t mind having me around, Harrington.  I’m not nice.”

“...pictured you as cute.”  Steve squinted, thinking, and sucked on the half candy cane in his mouth, burying his face in Billy’s hair to breathe him in.  “The curls, maybe.”

“Maybe if I hadn’t been fucking feral,” Billy snorted, pulling his legs up to lean more of his weight into Steve.  “Fucking--I fucking picked up a kid’s desk once and threw it.  He was still sitting in it.  Just sitting there being a little asshole until I came along.”

Steve clenched his fingers in curls, hugging him closer.  “...how did nobody make sure you were okay.”

“They were making sure he was okay, Harrington.  He got thrown.  It was like a car crash, he landed on all these other desks--”

“No, yeah, but--”

“So this is what friends are like,” Billy sniggered.

“I know I’m weird, alright, you can tell me to fuck off.”

“You’re a goddamn pain in the ass,” Billy groaned into his neck.  “Already, you’re a pain in the ass, just do it, I’d be easier to put up with, right, just fuck me.”

“I’m a pain in the ass?”  Steve nearly choked, finished chewing the hunk of candy cane, and took a swig of hot chocolate.  He cleared his throat.  “Me.  I’m the one making things weird.”

“...you don’t have to think so hard about it,” Billy muttered into his shoulder.  “I’m easy, Harrington, just--”

“You are anything but easy!” Steve hissed back, and Billy laughed, clenching his fingers in the back of Steve’s shirt.  Steve thonked the mug back on the table, and wrapped his other arm around Billy’s shoulders. Under the afghan, Billy’s shirt was a weird mix of sleep-warm and cold where the gaps between squares had let the air through.  “I’m a pain in the ass?  Have you looked in a goddamn mirror.”  He stroked his thumb through the warm hair at the back of Billy’s head, where the weight of his curls pulled it straight.  “Other than to fucking admire yourself.  Christ. You’re more trouble than the whole Goonie posse, I swear to god.  At least I can keep them safe with a bat.  Easy, jesus.  You’re the farthest thing from easy--”

Billy was cackling into the neck of Steve’s t-shirt.  “Sorry, your majesty.” He’d wedged himself half onto Steve’s lap, his legs off to the side, slumping against Steve’s shoulder and neck, as Steve tried to get both thighs under what felt like six tons of muscled ass cutting off the circulation in his leg.  

Steve strained, half-lifting Billy’s heavy butt with a hug, so he could shift against the hard edge of the chair.  “God, you weigh a fuck ton, they’re gonna have to amputate my legs, you fuck,” he muttered, hugging Billy tighter, and feeling him shake with laughter.  “Look. Seriously.  Hargrove.  I’m not weird enough I couldn’t hide it for a few hours,” Steve wanted to push away and pace, flailing, so he contented himself petting Billy’s hair like he was a cat, pushing at his head.  Billy snickered harder, and Steve felt the hands in his shirt grip tighter. “I could get anybody in our school over here if I got on the phone.  I could have a party here in minutes, you--you shithead.  I could get laid in an hour, tops--”

“You sound like such a prick,” Billy sniggered into his neck.  

“--and it’d all be easier than you, you--you asshole fuckface, jesus.  Easy.  The fuck do you think easy is?”  Steve trailed off into a softer whisper.  “It’s not you. God. Nothing about you is easy.  Nothing about your life is making my life easy, you’re--you’re like I saw a--a hurricane and opened the door, come on in, make my life messier--”

“Probably shouldn’t do that,” Billy snorted.  “It’s kinda--”

“Shut up,” Steve muffled a laugh in his hair.  “I can--I can have a hurricane if I want to. Fucking stop me.  You aren’t my mom.”  Billy’s shoulders shook as he laughed breathlessly.  Steve raised his eyebrows at the familiar humid warmth.  “Not the hurricane’s fault it’s kinda...wet.”

“Shut the hell up, I’m not crying,” Billy huffed, sniffling.

“Fucking--floods everywhere,” Steve pulled him closer.  “Easy.  Jesus.”

“I said easier--” Billy dug his nails into Steve’s back, and Steve slid his hand up Billy’s shirt, lifting the edge to expose his side to the frosty air of the kitchen.  Billy squirmed, hissing as he retracted his claws, and Steve smoothed his hand over the shivering skin of Billy’s side before pulling the afghan more securely around them.  

Billy groaned into his shoulder.  “--I know what I’m like, jesus, Harrington, I’m just saying--if you’d just--”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Steve whispered back.  “That’s gross, stop it. Nasty. I’m not fucking--jizzing in you to make my life easier, stop saying that shit.  If--if I wanted easy you wouldn’t be here, I want you.”

Billy made a soft wheezy whining noise in the back of his throat, and bit Steve’s shoulder.  He took a shaky breath, and swallowed. “I--I don’t think that came out how you meant, Harrington--”

“I want you here,” Steve smacked his shoulder, but wrapped both arms around him, forcing himself to swallow through his dry throat.  “I fucking want you here, it doesn’t need to be easier, I want you. Here. If you were easy you wouldn’t be you, you’re not easy.  It’s--it’s fine, it’s fucking fine, stop--stop saying gross shit about treating you like you’re--like a blow up doll.  And don’t bite me, you’re so nuts, jesus fucking christ--”

“Sorry I’m not easy, then, I guess,” Billy huffed a laugh, breathing against Steve’s wet t-shirt.

“I’m not.  Shut up. You-you’re Billy Hargrove, so you’re fine.  Billy Hargrove is fine.” he squeezed tighter, steadying himself.  “I don’t--I like--you’re messy as fuck, but it’s not--you’re just a mess ‘cause of your goddamn dad.”  Sometime in the previous sentences, Steve had gone hoarse, and his eyes were burning.  

Billy swallowed against his neck.  “...hey, now, if it weren’t for my goddamn dad, you’d be all alone in this big empty house.  You wouldn’t have--”

“If it weren’t for your fucking dad,” Steve cut him off,  “--you wouldn’t be so goddamn hard to make friends with.”  Billy took a deep breath, and Steve reached up to slide his hand over what he could get at of Billy’s mouth.  “Shut it, just--just shut up, sorry, I know--I know he’s got you convinced he’s great and you’re shit, but I don’t wanna hear it.  I like you, I don’t wanna hear you talk all the shit he says. Just--just don’t try to fuck me like you’re disarming a bomb. I don’t wanna fuck anybody who thinks that--”

“Shit,” Billy lifted his head.  “Harrington--”

“I know you don’t--” Steve laughed, swallowing, and Billy grabbed his head and pulled it against his shoulder.  Steve took a shaky breath.  “I know I’m--I’m the woods, for you.”

“What?” Billy scraped his nails up the nape of Steve’s neck.

“...uh--okay, shit, that feels good.”

“Yeah it fucking does.”

“--I just--I mean, I know E--uh, they closed the hole, to--to the other place, the Upside-Down.  There aren’t monsters coming out, the woods are fine, there’s nothing out there.  I still have to go check.  If the phone rings when I’m asleep I think everyone’s dead, I mean, I know they’re not dead, but--” he groaned into Billy’s shoulder, half annoyed at the general slipperiness of words, half enthralled at the feeling of Billy’s warm callused thumb rubbing the join between his neck and jaw, and up behind his ear.  “And--it’s just--you know I won’t hit you with the bat, I mean.  But like--if you’re startled, or if I wake you up, or grab you--it’s like me and blue monsters.  It’s like me and the woods.”

“...I guess it is,” Billy breathed into his neck.  

Steve’s feet were dead asleep, but Billy was addictively warm, and listening.  “And that’s--I get that, that makes sense, your brain’s all--doesn’t want you to fuckin’--die.  But don’t--don’t try to--if you think I’m--I’m a minefield, lock your room or something, go for a drive--go to Ms. Williams, I guess, don’t--don’t try to fuck me into not exploding, don’t--just don’t.”

“I just thought it’d--” Billy dropped his head to Steve’s shoulder again, wrapping his hand tight around the back of his skull.  “--it wasn’t--if you have to have me here, at least--”

“Shit,” Steve sighed, closing his eyes tight.  “You never wanted me at all, did you. You just--I wouldn’t calm down, I was freaking out, you kissed me so I’d chill the hell out.  Damn it.”

“Wait, what,” Billy lifted his head again, running his thumbs across Steve’s cheeks, and squinting at him in the dim light that filtered from the stove hood through the afghan.  “No, I thought you’d be more likely to hit me, what the fuck.  Wandering around in the snow with your shirt off, and the fucking bat, jesus.  Thought I was gonna fucking--cream my pants, snow melting off the nails and dripping red down your shoulders--good way to die, I thought--”

Steve snorted, laughing.  “What?!”

“--just like--melting in your hair--running down your--”

“Okay, okay, yeah,” Steve squirmed, face flaming, and hoped Billy couldn’t feel him getting hard in his sweatpants.  “Meant when I almost dragged you down the stairs, and you thought I might bash your head on the ground, or--”

“...oh, uh.”  

“Yeah, that’s--that’s what I thought,” Steve closed his eyes, swallowing, “--don’t--don’t pull that shit, it’s not--”

“Shut the hell up, you did the same thing to me in the Mexican place,” Billy bonked their heads together, “--you just wanted me to calm down, you even told me how nasty I fuckin’ was, you said I tasted rotten.”

“You were drinking spiced rum, eugh,” Steve shuddered.  “It’s not even good in coke--”

“Yeah, right.  So if you can kiss me to shut me up and tell me I’m foul, I can--”

“Shit, wait.”  Steve reached over his shoulder to smack some fingers over Billy’s mouth again.  He ignored the immediate licking. He tried to keep ignoring the licking, and focus.  “No, it’s--”

“And again after you said we were done,” Billy laughed.  “Right there against the counter. It’s okay if you’re just shutting me up, I get it, I like it a hell of a lot better than--”

“No,” Steve shook his head, “--that’s not--that’s not why--”

“You kiss me to impress Will, or when I’m being a fucking pussy,” Billy hissed in his ear, “--now I’m supposed to break bottles, and wave your kiddie bat around.  You probably won’t kiss me again unless I get into my shit somewhere and--and it’s worth it to you to shut me down, because I’m--I’m a goddamn freak show, and I’m not allowed to ask for--for anything--”

“Shut it.”  Steve took a deep breath.  “That’s--shitty. Sorry. I--shit, I’m such an idiot.”

“Nah, I get it.  I’m not easy, whatever works.  I’ll stop asking.  I can’t get you to like me, you made that clear--I can’t--” he took a shaky breath.  “Nothing I do is gonna matter for that, even if I get to kiss you, you’re not gonna have a--a fucking movie moment, you said it enough times--you let me at you once and that sure changed your mind--”

“Not what I meant!” Steve yelped, and Billy shushed him, laughing wetly into his shoulder.  Steve held his breath, listening for Will, then braced himself, and whispered “Not--not what I meant.”  He blew air through his cheeks, trying to shove the words into place in his head.  “You--aren’t easy.  You’re crazy, you do all this crazy shit, living alone would be better than somebody who beat me up and tried to set my house on fire and--and acts like I’m a monster sometimes--scares kids,” he took another shaky breath, holding Billy against him under the afghan when he tried to pull away.  “Shut up, listen. If you were anyone else, I--I would help you.  I’d--I’d still give you money.  I’d fix your car, if you were someone else.  Your dad shouldn’t hit you, nobody’s--that’s not--I’d help any random asshole if their dad was such an...an asshole, christ.  And then when you left I’d be so fucking glad you were gone.  I’d throw a party.  But--”

Billy leaned away, making the chair creak under them, and Steve grappled him close again.  “You can stop anytime--”

“But you’re you,” Steve squeezed him, swallowing, “--you’re--you’re Billy Hargrove, and I...it’s different, than--than if it was somebody else.  I don’t want you to leave. I--I never want you to fucking leave.”

“Christ,” Billy whispered, clenching a fist in Steve’s hair.

“You--I mean.  You could make me happy as hell with a blow job, yeah, if I--if I let you.  But you can’t--fuck. Hargrove. I can’t like you more.  I can’t like you more than I do, it doesn’t--I can’t--I like the hell out of you, I can’t--I like you too fucking much, you don’t--”

“Shut up,” Billy yanked him closer, laughing unevenly.  His voice had gone hoarse. “Harrington. King Steve. You--”

The lights switched on, and Steve yanked the afghan off his head to stare into Will’s sleepy glower.  

“Oh my god,” he moaned, switching the lights back off.  “Are you guys done yet, shut up, it’s almost morning--”

“We can carve ‘Cockblock Byers’ on his tombstone,” Billy growled into Steve’s neck, sliding warm hands under his shirt.  “Let’s go upstairs.” Steve froze at the feeling of Billy’s hot mouth on his neck, biting softly.  

Will groaned, flailing his arms, and stomped off to the front room.  “Just be quiet!”

“Come on, Harrington,” Billy shifted against Steve’s lap, whispering.  “You been rock-hard since I sat down. You like me so goddamn much? Fill me up.  We can lock the door. Just shove something in my mouth so I’m quiet.” He bit Steve’s earlobe, letting it slide from between his teeth, his hot breath hitting the wet places along Steve’s neck and sending a jolt to his dick.  “Anything.  Shove anything in me.  Harrington. Come on. Gimme full-body carpet burn from your parent’s bedroom floor.”

“I CAN STILL HEAR YOU,” Will yelled from the other room, before what sounded like more yelling through a pile of pillows, and Steve startled out of his daze.  

“Shit.”  He swallowed, didn’t feel like it did the job, and swallowed again.  “Shit, shit, shit--shit.” He swallowed a third time, and Billy slid off his lap and stood, pulling him upright.  

“Come on, your majesty,” he whispered, as Steve tried to stand with his feet completely asleep, and tried not to look at Billy’s mouth.  

Will’s right there, he told himself firmly.  He pulled some pillows over his head, but he’s fifteen feet away. 

“I could keep my clothes on, if you can’t get it up--” Billy laughed, shoulders tensing, and Steve got, horribly, even harder, imagining stripping him down in a pile of pillows, kissing him all over until he laughed and swore, and just--pointing out everything he liked to look at.  With his mouth.

It’s almost dawn, and I do not have a good track record with saying the right thing.  He took a deep breath, held it, and felt Billy start to pull away.  “Not with Will here,” he whispered back, tucking his nose against Billy’s jaw.  “Not--just--” He could feel Billy swallow against his mouth.

Steve’s feet were starting to wake up, the discomfort starting to dispel the images Billy’d conjured up.  Not that throwing him on the ground and shoving things in him sounds particularly great.  Gags? Did he--“Hey,” he pulled back, wincing as he flexed a tingly foot, “--uh.  Did you have--kind of--maybe a shitty boyfriend? In California?”

Billy’s eyes were still on Steve’s mouth.  He licked his lips. “What?”

“Did you have a boyfriend in California that--”

“Ha,” Billy blinked, pulling his hands from Steve’s ribs to his forearms.  “What? I never had a boyfriend, the hell, Harrington.”

They both winced, grinning, at the sound of Will’s muffled wail into the pillows.  “Shut up, you guys!”

“Had a few one-night stands,” Billy leaned to whisper in his ear, and Steve tried not to grimace at the image of some stranger throwing him to the floor.  “Shut up,” Billy flinched back, hissing. “I know I’m a fucking slut, okay--”

“Wow, shhh, shush,” Steve smacked his hand over Billy’s mouth, ignoring his growl.  “I don’t--that’s not--” He took a deep breath. “--I wasn’t saying that. And I’m going to bed.  You coming?”

Billy shook his hand off, whispering.  “You know I’ll wash off, right,” he grinned, “--few good hot showers.  Whatever fucking--fag cooties I’ve got, my--it won’t stick on you, you can fuck my mouth and not--”

“Christ,” Steve clapped both hands over Billy’s mouth, and Billy punched his shoulder, shoving him away.  He stalked back out into the front room. When Steve inched back out there, Billy was curled up on the edge of the mattress, facing he wall of the fort--and he’d pulled the blankets over his head, so Steve had the choice of crawling up under them from the foot of the mattress, or walking up and trying to shuffle down between the Williams’ heads.  He lifted the blankets at the bottom, and army crawled up the middle of the bed. Will was making a weird little snorfle noise every time he breathed, his face squashed between the mattress and the pillow. Steve rolled to face Billy’s back. He reached out, then folded his hands under his arms, squeezing his eyes shut to think, before reaching out to pat the mattress by Billy’s shoulder, and using his fingers to write U R GREAT down Billy’s back in big capital letters.  

Billy snorted a laugh.

SORRY, Steve wrote.  Then, after some thought, NOT SLUT.  He ran the flat of his hand up and down Billy’s sweatshirt like his back was a chalkboard.  NOT GROSS. He smoothed that away, Billy’s muscles tense against his fingers. WORRIED. SORRY.  

Billy rolled back into him, squirming around to lie facing him in the faint rainbowy light filtered through the sheet over their heads.  He reached over and wrote DIP SHIT across Steve’s chest, and Steve shivered, biting back a snicker.

DUMB ASS, Steve wrote, distracted by Billy’s unzipped sweatshirt, and his warm collarbones. 

GOOD NIGHT KISS, Billy wrote back, fingers lingering on Steve’s side, and Steve took a shaky breath.  He smoothed his hand down Billy’s chest, swallowing, and feeling warm skin. MAGIC SLEEP KISS, Billy wrote, and Steve yanked his hand back to muffle a laugh.  ABRA KA DABRA, Billy’s fingers traced, slowly, before ‘wiping away’ the letters. SLEEP NO DREAM KISS.

Before he could think too hard, Steve scooted closer and pressed their lips together, then leaned back against his pillow as Billy grabbed at his hands and shirt.  

NOT READY, Billy wrote.  

Steve could feel him panting, and feel the blood pounding under his fingers against Billy’s chest.  He’d tasted like chocolate.

ASSHOLE, Billy wrote, firmly, letting his head thump forward against their clenched hands.  LET ME.

Y--, Steve began spelling, and Billy tugged at his sleeves, and his fingers, clumsy in the dark, and curled closer.  Their knees bumped, and Steve raised one, grinning in the dark as Billy slid a leg into the gap, and scrambled closer until he had his hands clenched in Steve’s shirt, and his breath was warm against Steve’s mouth.  Steve started again, spelling YES against the warm soft skin of Billy’s stomach. He let his fingers run over the muscles Billy liked to show off, running around shirtless, and felt him huff a laugh.  

Billy took a deep breath, and splayed his palm out against Steve’s chest, breathing shakily.  KING, he finally wrote, and stopped again, and Steve stopped exploring the smooth skin and soft wispy curls between his bellybutton and his sweatpants.

WHAT, he spelled back.

LET ME, Billy wrote again, and Steve was already writing DO IT.

Billy leaned closer, his breath warm against Steve’s lips.  LET ME STAY.

Steve froze, his lips almost brushing Billy’s.  

LET ME STAY HERE, Billy tried, and Steve leaned in to kiss him, unable to resist.  YOU WILL STARVE. His mouth was as hot as ever, Steve thought, a small part of his mind on the letters spelling out against his chest, the rest imagining curling up every night against Billy Hargrove.

AM FINE, he wrote across Billy’s stomach, feeling him twitch away.

LONELY, Billy wrote back, and Steve was still for a long second, before leaning in to kiss him.

He kept it slow and quiet, memorizing the smell of soap and cologne and Billy, and feel of his mustache, and slid the arm he was lying on under Billy’s head to hold him close.  He smoothed his hand up Billy’s abs a few times. I M OKAY.

NOT OKAY, Billy insisted, and Steve squeezed him, eyes burning.  

He took a few long deep breaths before pulling back to run the back of his hand over Billy’s pecs again.  HAVE TO GO, he wrote, in careful block letters. DONT GET HURT.

Billy pressed him back into the pillows with more kisses--I’ll miss the moustache, Steve thought, suppressing a giggle as his tears ran over the bridge of his nose and into the pillow.  His lips were starting to feel tender under the onslaught, and he closed his eyes, relaxing 

DUMB FUCK, Billy wrote under the collar of his t-shirt.  STARVE CRAZY.

Steve pulled their foreheads together, feeling Billy’s eyelashes brush his cheek.  WANT YOU TO STAY. Billy nuzzled closer, squeezing his hand and kissing his knuckles.  BUT DONT. BILLY SAFE.

Steve’s fingers started to hurt in Billy’s crushing grip, before he swallowed against Steve’s shoulder, and sighed, nodding.  He let go of Steve’s hands to grab his shirt, and Steve pulled him close.

 “So I went to pick up my car...” Billy leaned back against the counter, letting his head drop to Steve’s shoulder.  

Steve tried to keep washing dishes without jostling him off.  “Yeah?”

“They said it was all paid up.  That you had them do a tune-up. Change the oil.”

“Yep?”  

“You sure you don’t want a blow job?”

“Jesus shit, you don’t--I’m--I’m not a vending machine,” Steve jerked away, trying to ignore Billy’s stagger.  “Stop. Just--christ.”  

“I dunno, I seem to keep pressing buttons,” Billy pushed himself up on the counter, sighing.

“You don’t have to fucking put coins in to get me to be nice, what the hell.”

“You don’t wanna take my currency anyway,” Billy laughed, swallowing hard.  “Kinda hard finding anybody that wants what Billy Hargrove’s got.  Maybe I should hit an exchange.”

“What?!” Steve smacked his handful of silverware into the suds with a splashing clatter.  “What the hell are you talking about.”

“I’ve got someplace to stay, my car’s working again, you keep--” he glowered, waving a hand unhelpfully at Steve washing dishes, “--you’re doing all your--bullshit, because you--you like me, okay, shit.  You think I’m hot, sometimes.  You’d help anybody.  ‘Cause nothing I’ve got is worth shit to Steve Fucking Harrington.”  Billy kicked his feet. “--and I know it’s not worth much to anyone, but like--can’t we just make an--exchange rate.  Just--”

Steve shook the water off his hands and stepped over, pushing a soapy hand against Billy’s face.  “I don’t like where this is going. Don’t--this isn’t--” he took a deep breath, and Billy watched, eyes half-lidded.  “You aren’t--you don’t owe me, okay.  You don’t have to--pay me back, or--or earn anything--Hargrove.”  Billy’s wandering attention snapped back to his face.  “Look. If you wanna pay me back for the money, get--get a goddamn job.  When you get some extra, send me a fucking check.  But don’t just--don’t--do not ever tell me you want my cock in your mouth unless that’s all you want, okay, just--if that’s--if you just want me, then we can--”

“Hey, guys, I’m gonna take a shower, are you--never mind, I’m taking a bath,” Will turned on his heel in the stairwell and went back upstairs, and Billy dissolved into snickers.

“Use my room!” he shouted up.  “Sparkly soaps!”

“SCREW YOU,” Will called back, laughing.  “REALLY REALLY LONG BATH.” He tromped onto the landing.

Billy turned, grinning, back to Steve, who stepped back.  “I’m serious--”

“Oh, you’re serious,” Billy whined, laughing.

“Shut the hell up, stop saying you’ll give me a blow job like--like it’s ditch-digging.”  Steve hunched his shoulders, stalking back to wash dishes, then waving his hands instead of grabbing any dishes.  “--‘Here, you--dickbag--monster, calm down, I’m Billy and I’ll put my mouth on your dick, so you don’t hit me.  You’re so fucking broken, Broken Steve Harrington, up nights seeing monsters and talking to nobody, I’ll suck you off ‘cause you can’t get a fucking date.’  Fuck you.  Just--fuck you.  Jesus.”

“What...” Billy stared at him.

Steve didn’t look up to meet the stare, though he could feel it intensifying into a glower.  He ducked his head, and kept scrubbing the melted cheese off a plate. The pipes hissed as Will cranked the water on upstairs.

“Harrington.”  Billy slid off the counter.  “Hey.”  

Steve shrugged, tired of trying to explain himself, but allowed himself to be pulled backwards against Billy’s chest.  He tried not to think too hard about the biceps and strong hands wrapped around his torso. “What.”

“Tell me what you want.  You want me to want you?”

“Ye-no.  I don’t--stop trying to handle me, christ.  I’m not a zoo ani--”

Billy spun him around, pushing him against the counter.  “Harrington. Do you--” he narrowed his big bluey-green eyes, and Steve felt a flutter of idiocy in his chest, pulling him towards kissing Billy’s freckles, and across his eyelashes.  

He dropped his gaze, trying not to stare back into Billy’s eyes, and ended up watching him lick his lips.  Steve squeezed his eyes shut with a groan.

“Harrington,” Billy said again, both hands holding Steve’s head pointed in his direction, and Steve felt his cheeks heating.  

“I’m listening, what.”

“You think I’m hot.”  It was a statement, but Billy sounded more open to opposing views than usual.

“I’m not blind,” Steve muttered, then realized Billy’s hands could feel his face heating like a stove burner, and grabbed Billy’s wrists with soapy fingers.  “I can tell--I know you think I’m--”

“You want me to kiss you for no reason,” Billy whispered, so close Steve could taste the smoke on his breath.  “Just ‘cause I want to.”

“Fuck.” Steve had meant to pull Billy’s hands away from his face, but he just stood there, eyes closed, his hands loose on Billy’s muscled forearms.  His face was probably glowing red.  “If you--if you fucking--”

Billy yanked him forward into a kiss, and Steve blinked, staring at Billy’s long lashes so close to his face they were blurry.  “You shut up this time,” he whispered, and Steve let his eyes drift shut again, turning his head for a better angle, and relaxing into the heat of Billy’s mouth and hands against his face.  Steve winced as the counter dug into his back, but slid his arms around Billy’s neck, pulling him close enough to feel Billy’s heart thudding in his chest--nearly as much as Steve’s was.

“So you’re saying I don’t have to bargain.”  Billy panted, mouthing along his jawline.  His eyelashes tickled. “You’ll let me.  I can just--” he slid his hand up the back of Steve’s neck and pulled him into another press of lips, and Steve heard himself moan into it, and licked deeper into Billy’s mouth, pretending he wasn’t completely obvious.  

“I can just kiss you?”  Billy laughed, pulling back enough to stare into his face, and Steve kissed him again.  He tasted like beer, a bit, and lunch, but mostly good.  

“Like I was ever gonna say no.”

“You did,” Billy panted into his neck.  His fingers shook, combing through Steve’s hair and catching clumsily at his ears.  “You said no. You said we were done, you said I was disgusting--” he pressed his whole body against Steve’s, and Steve was vaguely aware he’d have a bruise across his back the next day from the edge of the counter, but mostly he was focused on the friction and pressure where the hard line of Billy’s cock in his jeans rubbed against Steve’s own.

“Sorry,” he breathed back.  “Sorry. Everybody’s gross, I mean, sometimes--”

“Shut up, shut up--” Billy ran his hands down Steve’s sides, covering his mouth with his own again, and Steve forgot his argument.  Billy’s hips nudged forward again, and Steve swallowed a moan, pulling an arm free so he could grab the back of Billy’s jeans and hold him close.  Billy laughed, and leaned closer, his eyes drifting closed on a soft groan.  

Steve pulled his hand around, tucking his fingers in the front of Billy’s jeans, and Billy jerked his head back, wide-eyed.

“Will hasn’t even turned the bath water off yet, there’s time,” Steve slid his thumb under the button, pulling back to let Billy’s lower lip slip from between his teeth.  Billy’s eyes fluttered shut. “Can I stick my hand down your pants?”

Billy jerked against him, then hugged Steve’s head, laughing against the side of his face.  “Speak more of this poetry to me.”  

“Shut up,” Steve laughed, kissing the bit of Billy’s jaw he could reach.  “Can I?”

Billy was quiet, and after a few seconds, Steve pushed his hands away so he could pull back and see him face to face.  He’d gone kinda expressionless, and Steve reached up to flick his earring.  

“You gonna let me?”

“You decided I was nasty pretty fast the last time,” Billy shrugged, smiling down at Steve’s hand, “--maybe--”

“Don’t drink any Captain Morgan,” Steve flipped the button open with his thumb, raising his eyebrows, “--and don’t threaten any kids, and I’ll think--I won’t think you’re nasty.”  He tugged the zipper pull, staring back into Billy’s eyes.  “Lemme unzip you.”

“You--you fucking tell me if you change your mind.”  Billy clenched his hands in Steve’s shirt, shoving him back against the counter.  “New rule. Don’t--just tell me, I’ll back off.  I’ll--I’ll stay six feet away.  Whatever you want.”

“Christ.  Yeah.” Steve nodded.  “Not gonna change my mind, okay.”

“Fucking say it,” Billy growled, shoving him back again.  “You get my cock in your hand and wanna puke, don’t--” he swallowed, leaning in to grate Steve’s back against the edge of the counter, “--don’t--just tell me to get out.  Throw my ass in the garage again, whatever--”

“That’s not--I’m not going to--”  Steve stared back into Billy’s increasingly thunderous smirking face, and tried to think.  “--okay, yeah, yeah, I promise. Okay. If I get--pissed about something, your--your dick, or whatever--”

Billy snorted, leaning in again for a kiss.  “Yeah. Don’t hit me if you get pissed about my dick.”

“Mmf.  Okay,” Steve couldn’t think and kiss Billy at the same time, and kissing felt incredibly good, “--wait, sto--wait.  I won’t--I’m not gonna hit you anyway, Hargrove, jesus.”

“I don’t know what the hell decides you about people,” Billy shrugged, sliding his arms over Steve’s shoulders and around his neck.  

Steve squeezed him tightly, breathing in the warmth and smells of Billy Hargrove.  “I’m already decided about you, Hargrove.”

Billy laughed, swallowing, and Steve leaned in to kiss him again, holding him close with one hand on his lower back.  At Billy’s nod, he pulled the zipper down with the other.  

He slid his hand in to smooth skin over hard flesh, and the tickle of hair, and paused, feeling only Billy’s dick and the interior of his jeans.

“--I need to do some laundry,” Billy laughed against his mouth, “--shit, sorry.”

“I could’ve caught you in the zipper,” Steve froze, staring down at Billy’s lack of underwear, “--you shoulda said something--”

Billy grabbed Steve’s hand out of his pants, and yanked his sweatshirt down over his dick with his other hand, hunching his shoulders.  He ducked his head, grinning. “Yeah, I didn’t think this’d get too far. I’m gonna--”

“God dammit,” Steve grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yanked him back into a kiss, sliding his other hand back in to grab Billy’s cock, and slide his thumb over the tip of it.  

Billy yelped against his mouth, half-falling against him, and jarring him into the counter again.  

“C’mere--” Steve reached his less-busy hand around to grab the back of Billy’s jeans, and kept his thumb rubbing over the tip of Billy’s cock, and the vein underneath--Billy was certainly wet enough--but his eyes were as wet as his dick was, and the quick breaths he was taking against Steve’s mouth felt less like excitement, and more like hyperventilation.  Okay, Steve thought, taking a deep breath, I gotta get this right, or he will absolutely bite my dick off.  “D’you want me to stop,” he squeezed gently, but didn’t move.  “I--I’ll keep going, I mean, I want to keep going, but if you want me to stop we can--”  

“Don’t you fucking dare stop,” Billy’s voice cracked.

 “I’m gonna jack you off,” Steve whispered, between kisses, and Billy whined, licking into his mouth, “--mnn.  And then we’re gonna need a shower, ‘cause we’ll both be gross.”  Letting go of Billy’s pants, since he wasn’t trying to pull away, Steve slid his hand up Billy’s back and around the back of his neck.  “Then we can--we can hang out with Will, and I’m--I’m not--letting go of you.”

Billy laughed against his cheek, swallowing.  “Fuck yeah.” He nodded.

“Okay, stop--stop freaking out.”  Steve put his attention back on Billy’s dick, and trying to ignore his own.  The trail of hair up Billy’s suspiciously tanned abs brushing his knuckles didn’t help, and neither did Billy’s clumsy kisses and swallowed noises, or him apparently not knowing where to put his hands.  “Shit,” Steve clenched his hand in Billy’s hair to keep him from running off, and pulled his hand back to unzip his own pants. “I just have to--”

“Want me to do something about that,” Billy whispered, biting at his lips.  “Let me get down--”

“S’fine, it’s your turn.”

“...finish me off, then.  You can use my mouth in the shower.”

“Christ,” Steve unzipped himself and grabbed Billy’s cock again.  He yanked faster, holding Billy close, so his hand could just barely move between them.  

Billy staggered against him, grabbing at his shirt, and Steve pushed him back, grinning into his kisses.  

“Sit down.  Babe. Sit down in a chair--”

Billy clung, laughing.  “Shit, you make my knees--”  He backed until his legs hit the chair and dropped into it, hanging on to Steve’s arms, and Steve straddled his lap.  Steve’s hand was just starting to get tired at the awkward angle when Billy’s nails clenched into his arm. “My knees just--Ha-Harrington--fuck--” he panted, and Steve leaned to bite at his ear.

“Come on, Billy Hargrove,” he whispered, and Billy made a broken noise, jerking against him.  Steve barely had time to close his hand on the warmth of Billy’s dick to keep their shirts from telling poor Will somebody’d been jacked off in the kitchen.  Billy collapsed against his shoulder, his face hot against Steve’s neck. “...sh...shit. Should probably get your hand washed off,” he said hoarsely. “Want me to lick it clean?”

“Nah,” Steve nuzzled in to kiss his ear, then his cheek, then his mouth, as Billy lifted his head.  

He panted into the kiss, then pulled back to watch Steve’s face, eyes narrowed.  “You--uh,” he grinned down at himself, a little lopsidedly, “--everything still okay?”  

“Kinda desperate, after watching that,” Steve whispered back, pushing in to kiss him again, and Billy laughed against his mouth.

“Christ, what is even happening.  Fuck yeah. Come on. Don’t change your mind.”  He grabbed Steve’s clean hand, dragging him toward the stairs.  

Once they got in Steve’s bathroom, Steve wondered, briefly, how much hot water Will had left--before his brain entirely devolved into appreciating Billy’s ass sticking out of the shower as he turned on the water, and his wriggle out of his pants.  

Steve shrugged out of his own sweatshirt, tried to kick out of his pants and skivvies, and staggered over the pile to slide his fingers up and under Billy’s t-shirt, pushing it up with both hands flat against his chest.  He followed along with his mouth and tongue, and Billy grinned, raising his arms to let Steve pull his shirt off over his head. He leaned into Steve’s hands and his kisses, laughing as he allowed himself to be pushed backward into the shower.  “You’re still...wearing a shirt,” he said against Steve’s mouth, and Steve rocked their hips together.

“Really--” Steve kissed him under the showerhead, “--super don’t care.”  He combed wet curls out of Billy’s face with his fingers. 

Billy grinned, lowering his eyes to look through the water clinging to his lashes.  “You’ll have to let go for me to blow you,” he whispered, mouthing along Steve’s jaw, and Steve nuzzled into his neck.  Billy licked the water up the side of Steve’s face, and Steve held him tighter, cackling, and smushed him up against the wall of the shower in a licking war until they were both laughing too hard to kiss.  Steve slurped the water out of Billy’s mustache, and Billy smacked at his head, laughing so hard he wheezed, then pushed away, placing his hands on Steve’s shoulders.

“Ha-Harrington,” he laughed, trying to hold a straight face.  He pushed his hair out of his face.

“Hargrove,” Steve whispered back, giggling as the shower water got in his mouth.  He tried to lean back in for a kiss, one hand on his cock, sliding up and down in the water, the other reaching for Billy.  

Billy grabbed both hands.  “Harrington, you idiot, leggo your dick,” he leaned his face out of the spray, coughing, “--you gotta let me kneel, you moron, if--”

“Oh!”  Steve stopped trying to pull him back, laughing.  “Right. Right--sorry--” He leaned in for another extremely wet kiss, getting an ear full of water from the showerhead, and Billy pushed him firmly away, dropping to his knees.  Steve shivered, leaning against the wall as warm hands slid up the back of his thighs to squeeze his ass, and Billy licked a swath up his dick.

The wet heat of Billy’s mouth and the muscles in his throat felt even better than the first time, if possible, and Steve remembered to curl his fingers into Billy’s wet curls.  Almost there, already, he thought, grinning down just as Billy pulled off, coughing and wiping his face.

“Wait, no,” Steve dropped to a crouch, sliding a hand along Billy’s jaw to pull his face up, while he tried to wipe at his snot, and red eyes.  “Jesus, you’re drowning, stop. Are--are you okay?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, your finest majesty.  Shit. S’fine, I’ve got my breath now,” Billy suppressed a cough, then couldn’t.  He leaned his face back into the spray, shaking his head so his hair flung out. “--it’s fine, come on.  I’m not your granny’s fine china.  Come on, what the fuck, Harrington, you’re not gonna kill me with your goddamn fun-sized pencil dick.  Harrington.”  His snarling sounded hoarse.

Steve jerked his hand back, and stepped away to avoid Billy blowing his nostrils clear over the drain.  “Shit.”

“You aren’t fucking--King sized, okay--” Billy laughed, kicking out, and Steve turned as far away as he could get in the shower stall, grabbing the soap to slick himself up.  

I keep forgetting what he’s like, he yanked away at his cock, at this point trying for some kind of I-don’t-care-what-you-think revenge orgasm.  It’s normal, I think?  It’s a good size? It fits right in my hand?  Fucking...fucking Billy Goddamn Hargrove.

“The hell are you doing,” Billy yelled, and Steve flinched as wet terrycloth splatted loudly against his back, then slid down.  

He sighed, trying to focus on heat, and friction--

“Screw you, fucking--bastard--asshole--” Billy coughed, staggered to his feet, and leaned his forearm across Steve’s chest to shove him into the wall.  “Don’t. Harrington. Christ. Stop it.” He swallowed, wiping his face again. “Don’t pull this shit. Come on. You have to tell me, it’s--it’s a goddamn rule, you have to say.”

“Say what,” Steve turned to stare at him, and Billy’s eyes narrowed.

“...you--you fucking changed your mind.  Tell me to get the hell out. Don’t just pretend I’m invisible, your majesty, come on.”  

“I didn’t change my mind, you started screaming at me,” Steve hissed back, and Billy grinned, leaning into him, and kissing his neck.  

“Nah, you pulled back--”

Steve yanked his hand free, trying not to enjoy the hot breath against his collarbones, or the friction against Billy’s stomach.  “Lemme fucking get off, what the hell is wrong with you.”  

Billy nodded against his shoulder, and slid his hand between them, but Steve grabbed him by the shoulders, holding him at arm’s length.  

“You--you promise not to--don’t bite me or--or anything--”

Billy waggled his tongue, grinning, and Steve groaned, pulling them both down to sit wedged against each other in the little shower stall.  “It’ll be worse down here.” Billy raised his eyebrows, tucking his hair behind his ear. “I could suck you if you lean against the back wall--”

“No, no, don’t drown again--”  Steve tried to think with Logic, and not just... climb into Billy’s lap and rub off on him like Clifford the Big Friendly Pervert.  He cleared his throat. “Use your hand.” 

Billy squinted at him.  

“I mean, what if you.  Use your hand. So I can kiss you.”  I am a genius, he realized, feeling like he could feel his pulse from his dick clear up to his brain.  I can’t kiss him with his face on my dick.  “Please.”

“Wha--?!”  Billy’s legs fell apart as Steve pushed him back against the wall of the shower, sliding his hands over tanned freckled skin.  Billy’s wet curls drug at his fingers.

Steve grabbed one of Billy’s hands and licked a finger into his mouth to suck on.  “You can breathe if I’m kissing you.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Billy pulled him in to a kiss, sliding his knuckles down Steve’s chest and stomach, catching against his wet shirt, to wrap his fingers around Steve’s cock.  Steve groaned into the kiss, scooting closer.

 Once they’d finished, and Steve had relaxed a while, panting against Billy’s neck, he pulled a hand free to smack the nearest part of Billy--his knee.  Billy snorted, nuzzling his hair, and Steve growled. “...the fuck, Hargrove. You have words too, y’know, you could ask whether I’m--doing whatever that--whatever you thought I was doing, christ.  Instead of insulting my dick, what the hell, dude, what the fuck was that even--”

“Sorry,” Billy laughed against him.  “Thought if I made you mad, you’d come back over.”

“...babe,” Steve sighed.

“You ignore me, I will get your fucking attention,” Billy whispered against his head.  “I’m right here, Harrington, don’t you fucking dare look through me, I will--I will…” he took a deep, shaky breath, and Steve pulled him into an open-mouthed kiss.

“Nobody’s ignoring you.  I’m listening to your asshole voice right now, okay, you said my dick was fun-sized and I’m still--”

“Shit, I did,” Billy snickered, and Steve rolled his eyes.  “I said you weren’t king sized--”

“Yeah, okay, California Queen--”

Billy cracked up, curling into him, and Steve stroked his hair, staring down at the side of his head.  

“...you gonna apologize to my dick, you bastard?”

“I could kiss it better,” Billy offered, lifting his head.  “You could pound me into the mattress--”

“Christ,” Steve ran his thumb along Billy’s jaw, feeling him lean into it.  “I wasn’t ignoring you--I mean, I guess I was, kinda, just ‘cause you were screaming--like--bullshit at me.  I thought you were gonna start throwing bottles.”  Billy hummed.  “You wanna shampoo?”

“--what?  Fuck yeah, yes--”  Billy shoved him off, scrambling for a shampoo bottle, and then dropped back beside him, looking annoyingly smug.  

“The hell are you so proud for,” Steve muttered, sudsing up, and Billy grinned, ducking under his hands for a kiss.  They spent so long kissing that the shower started washing the shampoo back off Steve’s outstretched hands, and he snorted against Billy’s mustache, bringing his hands up to start soaping sodden curls.  

Billy let himself tip forward against Steve’s shoulder, laughing against his collarbone.  

“What,” Steve grunted, still annoyed, and ran his left thumb up and down the nape of Billy’s neck while he carefully avoided yanking Billy’s earring, rubbing shampoo in with his other hand.

“We’re on again, huh.”  He could feel Billy’s grin against his shoulder.  “We’re screwing around. It’s not bullshit for Will anymore.  Right?” He pulled back to look Steve in the face, smile intent.

Steve stared back, waving his hand in the water so he could wipe away the suds trailing down Billy’s forehead towards his eye.  In the bright overhead light, Billy’s eyes looked less like a summer swimming pool, and more like rainclouds.  

“Come on, Harrington.  You don’t hate me anymore.  I made it up to you, right?”

Steve licked his lips, blinking back from noticing the tips of Billy’s eyelashes were almost blond, when he didn’t wear mascara.  “What?”

“Shit.  Never mind.”  Billy started to turn to face the other way, and Steve grabbed his head with the hand that was still soapy, and tried to open the shampoo with the other.  

“Wait, what?  No. I never hated you, what the hell.”

“Ha.  Whatever.”

Steve slapped a handful of shampoo into Billy’s curls, scowling.  “--are you--are you deaf?  I keep saying all this--just--dumb--” he scrubbed Billy’s head so hard it pushed him sideways, then yanked him close.  “I said I like you, you fucking dickhead.  You’re important, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, humans are important,” Billy tried to dodge Steve’s thorough fingers, snickering.  “I get it, I know, calm down, jesus--”

Steve grabbed his face with both hands, squishing his cheeks together, and Billy was laughing too hard to get away.  “No, that’s--that’s, like, yeah, I mean, but you’re--Hargrove.” He stopped giving Billy chipmunk cheeks to wipe more suds before they got in his eyes.

“You never make any sense,” Billy grinned, leaning into his hand, “--I never know what you’re--”

Steve pulled him into a hard kiss, then pulled back, biting his lips together while he thought.  “I--I would eat brussels sprouts for you.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Billy collapsed sideways against him, cackling.  “What the hell--”

His hair swiped the whole side of Steve’s soaked shirt with suds, and he peeled it off, startling as Billy’s hair brushed his chest.  “Come here, sit up.”

“I can’t, jesus christ,” Billy slid his arms around Steve’s waist, laughing.  “What the fuck, your majesty. Holy shit. You--” he lifted his head to wipe his face, “--you won’t get scurvy, then, you’ll eat some fucking fiber after I’m gone?”

“....yeeeah?”  Steve’s eyes narrowed.  “That wasn’t--”

“You’re so weird,” Billy grinned at him, cheeks flushed, and Steve had to lean in and kiss him.  “You’re fucked in the head,” he laughed against Steve’s mouth, sighing. “But we’re good now, right--”

“We were good before,” Steve groaned.  “Come on, turn around, I have to finish before the water gets cold.”

“I’d eat a teabag for you,” Billy laughed, letting himself be manhandled into facing the showerhead, and Steve forgot about the shampoo, and started kissing along his spine.  Billy laughed harder, leaning his head in his hands, and Steve got up on his knees to lean over him, stroking the suds out of his hair in the lukewarm water. Billy spat, wiping soap out of his face.  “Why are we eating things we hate for each other?”  

“I dunno.”  Steve felt his face heating.  And his neck.  When the water gets cold, it’ll feel good.  Unless it turns straight to steam when it hits my skin.  “But yeah.”  He cleared his throat.  “We’re--good. You’re good, I’m not--mad, or anything.  I like you, he thought, --and I wish you could hear what I’m thinking, and put it together yourself.  It’d be easier. Except you would die laughing.

Billy leaned back, smirking up, and Steve finished rinsing with the hand that wasn’t holding Billy’s head.  Occasionally, he had to switch. By the time his knees started to hurt against the tile, he was getting the last of the suds out of thick curls, careful of the side where Billy’s head had met the door.  By the time he finished, Billy’s eyes had slid closed, and his smirk relaxed into a soft grin. Steve leaned in and touched his tongue to the tip of Billy’s nose, and Billy’s foot jerked and thonked into the door of the shower stall.  He glared up, upside down, watching Steve fall sideways into the corner laughing, then scrambled around to kneel facing him, and grab the conditioner.

“Water’s getting cold,” Steve grinned up at him, wiping it out of his face, and Billy looked him up and down, licking his lips.  

“What do I get if I turn it off,” he whispered, and Steve snorted, blinking.  “You look pretty cold...Harrington.”

Steve pressed himself back against the wall, laughing, and trying to get his legs out of the rapidly-cooling water.  “What d’you want me to say?”

“Ask me to warm you up,” Billy grinned over, reaching back to slide a finger along the handle, “--maybe you can convince me.”  The water went fully cold, splashing on Steve’s feet, and Billy flattened himself against the wall to avoid it, shivering.  He kept his eyes on Steve’s, though, keeping one hand stroking the handle to turn off the faucet, and sliding the other up his abs, slowly, brushing his fingers through the water along his muscles.  “Don’t keep me waiting, Harrington,” he whispered, grinning.  “You got what it takes?”  

Steve’s mouth went dry watching.  “What,” he nearly barked a laugh, as Billy twined his fingers in his necklace, and pretend to pull himself forward, biting his lower lip.  “Christ, Hargrove.” They’d both pressed their knees together, swinging their legs away from the freezing water, and he caught Billy’s glance trying to see whether his words were having any effect on Steve’s dick.  Hell yeah, they are, he tried not to just lose it snickering, --this is so dumb, christ, he’s so hot.  We’re so dumb. Steve’s feet were against the stall door, and it would have taken just the slightest pressure to push it open, and escape.  He pulled them back, trying to think of what to say. “Please turn it off,” he couldn’t help laughing, “--come over and warm me up.”  

Billy cranked it off, halfway in his lap before Steve had really gotten to appreciate his sudden grin.  “I wanna choke on your dick,” he whispered, licking the water up Steve’s jaw. “I like it. Come on.”

Between Billy’s shivering, warm bulk suddenly in his lap, the tongue gliding along his jaw, and the hot breath in his ear, Steve’s engine had flooded, and he gave himself a second to restart.  “...really?”

“I really want to,” Billy whispered back, and Steve’s heart must have started in, like, four-wheel drive, he realized, because he felt like he was radiating heat.  “Shit,” he pulled Billy’s head around for an actual kiss. “I think it just caught on fire, probably. Like a lightsaber.”

Billy went still, and then Steve realized his shoulders were shaking with laughter.  “...that’s disgusting,” he wheezed, sliding his hand down Steve’s thigh, to run his thumb up the anatomy in question.  Steve jerked against him, gasping. “Still 100% flesh penis,” Billy reported, and Steve snorted, cheeks flaming.  

“Shut up, you’re--it’s not my fault I’m hard enough to drill metal--”

Billy did the thing Steve was starting to recognize as being taken by surprise, but in a good way--he smiled, leaning his face against Steve’s knees, and took a couple of deep breaths.  

“What about you?” Steve lifted a hand--his heart was pounding so hard he was shaking, he realized, unless it was cold.  He didn’t feel cold. He stroked Billy’s hair, squeezing the water out.  “So it’s fair.”

“Just spread your damn legs and hand me the conditioner,” Billy pressed his face harder against Steve’s leg, and Steve grabbed the bottle and tucked it into his hand.  

He’s shaking too, Steve noticed, watching him squirt half the bottle into his hand, mutter under his breath, and squish it through his fingers onto his dick.  

“I’m so glad you don’t call it, like, a cockmeister,” Steve blurted, and Billy stopped moving entirely to stare.  “Tommy got all weird in the communal showers at first, he kept saying shit like ‘Little Tommy the Cockmeister wants to meet Stevey Jr. for after dinner drinks--’”

“Sure he did.”  Billy’s eyes narrowed, and he shot a glare over his shoulder at the doorway.  “Lil’ Tommy better stay in his fucking pants.”

“What am I supposed to be doing,” Steve turned so his back was against the tiled wall, letting his legs fall wherever, “--while you’ve got your hand on your cock and your mouth…” he trailed off, watching Billy waggle his tongue.  “Jesus. While you’re choking on me?  I feel like I’m a shitty--”

“Like you’ll be able to think that far,” Billy leaned in for a kiss, grinning, “--you’ll just be seeing God, okay--”

Steve licked his lips, laughing at the slight tickle of Billy’s mustache as he kissed his way down Steve’s chest, and tried to think.  It’s the perfect opportunity, he narrowed his eyes, staring vaguely through the door to the shower stall, --he likes it when I’m nice to him, but he can’t freak out and yell at me with his mouth full.  The moment Billy’s lips slipped over the head of his dick, all he could think about was sensation--the heat of his breath, and the texture of Billy’s tongue, and the roughness of the roof of his mouth.  “Uhnf,” Steve let his head fall back, closing his eyes. “Christ,” he mumbled, and Billy pulled off to laugh.

“You there already?”

“Nah,” Steve muttered as Billy wiped his mouth, and bent down again to kiss along Steve’s inner thigh.  “I was just, y’know. Oh my god,” he groaned.  “I thought I’d say all the shit you don’t let me, y’know.  You’re too good at this, I can’t think.”  

Billy hummed inquiringly, and the vibration pinpointed Steve’s entire awareness on the skin Billy was sucking.  

Steve patted a clumsy hand at Billy’s head, wondering how much time was going by.  “Will’s probably downstairs with a pillow over his head,” he realized, and Billy pulled back again, sitting crosslegged and coughing.

“Sorry, am I boring you?” he smiled around clenched teeth, wiping his mouth.  “The fuck is all this shit you wanna say to me when I can’t answer back?”

“No, no, damn it,” Steve scrubbed his face with both hands.  “No, not--not like that, damn it.  No.”  You’re so much work, he wanted to say, and didn’t.  “Come back, come here.” He squinted at Billy, trying to think of something perfect to say, then clapped.  “Oh no, don’t turn the cold water back on!”

Billy snorted, then coughed, snickering.  “I should, you fuck.”

“No, come on, let’s like--conserve body heat,” Steve tried to keep a straight face, but his shoulders were shaking with laughter.  “Out here, uh, where it’s really cold, I really need you.”  He raised his eyebrows, pointing at his dick, and Billy laughed, leaning to gnaw at his knee.  

“Asshole.  Yeah, beg the snow monster of Hoth to blow you, and maybe he’ll have mercy--”

“Gross, no, I don’t want a--a bigfoot thing, wait.”  Steve frowned, waving him closer.  “Hoth.”

Billy scooted closer again.  “Yeah. Star Wars?”

“Holy shit,” Steve breathed, “--you nerd, you watched the new one.”

“You own it!”

“Yeah, because gremlins use my credit card,” Steve rolled his eyes, as if he didn’t hand it over.  “I don’t pick that shit out.” Billy huffed, shivering, and crawled back between Steve’s sprawled legs.  Steve tried to keep his train of thought through breathy, open-mouthed kisses down his abs. “I don’t--jesus.  That’s the--you think--you think I hate you, and--fuck god your mouth.”

Billy snorted, one hand tight on Steve’s thigh, his other arm flexing as it moved between his legs, and the muscles of his throat squeezing Steve’s dick.

“Mmm,” Steve tried to talk, swallowing.  “Nerd,” he whispered, and Billy smacked his thigh, grunting.  “No. Not--you’re--I don’t like it. Elves. Elf--bullshit, I don’t--I like you--oh god I love you doing that--” Billy spluttered, shoulders shaking with laughter, but didn’t pull off again, and Steve relaxed the fingers he’d automatically clenched in Billy’s hair.  “Shit. Shit, sorry, fuck. Sitting through--two goddamn days--elves and gremlins and--wedding parties--jesus, Hargrove,” he whined in the back of his throat, back arching.  “Billy--Billy Hargrove. Holy--holy crap. Shit.” Keeping track of his thoughts with Billy Hargrove doing his best to be distracting was never going to work, and all he managed was to garble that he was coming at the exact moment he did so, so Billy didn’t have time if there was anything he wanted to do about it.  “Sorry,” Steve whispered.

“Should be,” Billy turned the shower handle just enough for a trickle to clean off his hand.  His voice was hoarse, but he was somehow managing to swagger walking on his knees. “Who’s the nerd now?”

“You.”  Steve watched him, registering for the first time that for that even a tan, there had to be a tanning bed somewhere that had had Billy Hargrove’s naked dick rubbed all over the inside.  “You’re having a great time. You think I’d listen to a whole weekend of witches and goblins if you didn’t like it?” He clambered up to push the door open, wishing he could use the Force to grab a bath towel.  “I’d just tell Will to read ‘em on his own. Or drop him at the arcade.” He tied one around his waist.

“...I’m not into that stuff, I never even saw the movie until I came over here--”

“Yeah,” Steve leaned back into the stall with another towel, tossing it around Billy’s shoulders, and using it to pull him close.  “Yeah, but you’re into it. If I get bored I can watch you--”

“What.”  Billy glared back, chewing his lip, and Steve leaned in to kiss it. 

“I like watching you.  Y’know, into it.  You really wanna know what the dwarves are gonna do, or whatever,” Steve kissed him again, pulling the towel up so he could start toweling Billy’s hair, pulling him close, so he could whisper “--it’s cute,” across Billy’s ear, and feel him twitch.

“...watch it, I’ll seduce you with my book-listening,” Billy whispered back, and Steve gave up on towelling and just hugged him.

“You already did, asshole, pay attention.”

 When then finally made it downstairs, Will groaned at them.  “You were up there forever.”  

“Harrington can’t keep his hands off me,” Billy shrugged, dropping next to him, and Steve flopped with his head in Billy’s lap.  “He likes watching me when I’m into it.”

Steve rolled onto his side, snickering, and then cleared his throat.  “Okay, tell us about the fairies.” He waved a hand, and Billy snorted.  

Will threw a pillow at Steve’s head.  “They are elves--”

“Like at Christmas, Harrington,” Billy put in, and Will grabbed the whole comforter and threw it over them, half yelling, half laughing.

“I thought we already talked to the elves!” Steve whispered, and felt Billy cackling against him.  

“That was Santa.  This is where they make the toys now.  Boromir is a good knight and doesn’t want to know what Santa’s bringing.  Steveagorn is hot for the elves,” Billy whispered, and Steve shoved him, wheezing with laughter.  

“You shithead, that was actually helpful.”

“Nancy used to game with us,” Will stuck his head under the blanket to grin at them.  “She dressed as an elf.”

Billy rolled onto his face, groaning, and Steve flopped directly on top of him, facedown, so he could whisper in Billy’s ear, and their legs all flailed together.  Whenever it got boring--which was mostly--he let his head drop against the back of Billy’s. He woke to the warm muscles under him going rigid, blinking to consciousness to Billy’s knight character chasing one of the hobbits around a rock, trying to scare him and steal his stuff.  

“Hey,” Steve whispered, but Billy was listening intently to Will describing Froggo running away in fear--invisibly, again, and Steve secretly pictured him driving Wonder Woman’s invisible jet.  Steveagorn from the book told Billymir off, and sent him off to protect Book-Dustin and whoever the other one was, and Steve squeezed Billy’s shoulders. “He’s gonna protect the others, it’s fine, he’s a knight.  He’s gonna save the other kids.”

“Actually he dies,” Will said, with relish, and Billy rolled Steve off him and stood.  

“Y’know what, I’m gonna take a run.”

“We’re almost done!” Will waved the book at him, and Billy stalked by him towards the door.  

“I’ll be back soon.”

Shit, Steve thought, watching Will frown after Billy, then frown down at the book.

 When Billy wandered back in, he started throwing things in a pan, and Steve let Will help while he set the table.  It didn’t take long.

Once seated, Will poked at the meat that had fallen out of his taco, and sighed.  

“Use a fucking fork,” Billy tipped his chair back to rattle around in the drawer.

Steve was trying to fit a third of his taco in his mouth, and nearly succeeding.  He chewed slowly, eyes fluttering shut.

“Jonathan’s back tomorrow night,” Will mumbled.  “I can go home. I guess.”

“Custody battle,” Billy sang, tossing a fork so it twanged off Will’s plate.  His chair thudded back to earth, and Steve paused in shoving the rest of the taco in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.  

“You can always come back, y’know,” he kicked the foot of Will’s chair.  “He’ll be here for a week or two.”

“And our epic love story wouldn’t be the same without letters,” Billy waggled his eyebrows, then snorted as Steve blew him a kiss.

“You’re gonna write letters?” 

Billy cut off Will’s excited next question with “You can’t read ‘em, they’ll be full of me praising Harrington’s dick.”

Steve choked on his taco, coughed, and swallowed, as Billy grinned at his plate.  

Will was hiding behind his hands.  “No they won’t!” He glared between them.  “Not all of them!”

“Good ninety percent,” Billy shrugged, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“You can help me write some, though, he’s gonna get bored hearing how I got knocked over in PE because I didn’t plant my feet.”

“If this is where knocking you over in PE leads, you better learn.”  Billy narrowed his eyes, and Steve snorted.

“You getting possessive?”  Steve shoved the last of the taco in his mouth, moaning as the cheese and beef hit his tongue.  “Mrum. God. S’good. Played sports my whole life, Hargrove, never kidnapped a teammate before.”

“...yeah, well,” Billy cleared his throat, and took a bite of taco.  That evening he sat weirdly quietly through a couple hours of Steve and Will teasing each other over the beginning of the Two Towers.  

“Nancy said she’d rather be Legolas than Arwen, because he gets to do stuff,” Will rolled his eyes, as Steve and Billy’s heads popped up like groundhogs.  “And then Jonathan said that made him Gimli the dwarf, which is gross.”

“It is gross,” Steve agreed, fighting a snicker, and Billy punch his shoulder, grinning.  

“Lego-lass,” he whispered, and Steve leaned into him, cackling into his shoulder.  

“Shit, that means I’m looking for the little shitheads with my ex and her hairy dwarf.”

“And I’m dead back there somewhere,” Billy snorted.  “I’ve got some homework, I’m gonna go up to my room.”

Will turned his big eyes on Steve, who waved him on, picking through the chocolates.  When Steve tried Billy’s door later, and knocked, he got a “Whaddaya need, Harrington,” sigh, and lifted his hands, and shouted back “Nothing, night!”  They woke Monday morning to the sound of the garage door opening, and the Camaro engine.

“Did you guys fight?  I mean, again?” Will whispered in the dark, and Steve dropped his face back in his pillows with a groan.

 In his first class, Steve kept Nancy awake.  In his third, he was glad Billy’s presence had enough of a lingering effect that he’d slept, because Jonathan was as drowsy as she was.  Steve had to scribble frantically between nudging them in turn with a ruler, trying to get notes they’d actually understand.  

After the bell rang for the end of fourth period, he was ready for a break, and some quiet.  So naturally, he had his tongue out the side of his mouth in concentration when Max dropped across the table, and he nearly bit it off.  “Whumf,” he tried to ask, glaring.

“That’s horrible,” she said flatly.  “What is it.”

‘It’ was his ceramics assignment, he tried to explain, before Eleven cut in.  “They’re all like that.” She pointed at another pile of dried-up clay coils. “It looks like something a dog made.”

“Yeah, with its ass,” Max leaned closer, squinting.  “Why are you all making clay dog shit?”

Steve had pulled his tongue out of his mouth, trying to get a good look at it.  It didn’t look like any bits were missing. “It’s a vase.  And it’s a construction thing, she wants to make sure we did it right.  I thought I’d give it to Billy.”

Max snorted.  “Tell him it’s a portrait.”

“Does Billy want a…”  Eleven trailed off, squinting at it.  Steve bit back a grin, and she leaned closer to the cart full covered in unfired matte glaze.  “Did they paint toothpaste on them?” She made a face at them, and leaned over Steve’s shoulder to frown.

“Anyway,” Max couldn’t take her eyes off it, nose wrinkled, “--El wants waffles.”

“Get Billy to do it,” he muttered, trying to push one of the walls of his vase upright.  It slumped inward further the second time. “I kept falling asleep in this class, I have makeup work.”

“Eugh.”  Max slumped forward, folding her arms under her head.  “Hurry up and catch up, it’s snowing again.”

“Yeah, I noticed.  Get Billy.”

El wrinkled her nose.  “You could give him something nice.”

“It’s Billy,” Max groaned.  “He can’t wear it or drive it or drink it, so--”

“You could make him a mug.”  El dropped to sit next to Steve.

“Why would I make something nice for Billy,” he felt his cheeks heat, “--this will be hilarious, come on, look how awful it is.”

They watched him build it higher for most of the lunch hour.  “Oh good,” Max commentated. “There’s more and more of it.  It isn’t getting any prettier, Steve.”  She stopped, clearing her throat.  “So…” Steve raised his eyebrows, keeping his attention on the crooked handles he was attaching, and she grimaced.  “...uh, how is, uh...has he…” She trailed off, as Steve tried to figure out whether she meant “how’s he doing,” or “has he killed anyone?”  “How has he killed anyone?”, maybe, he bit back a smirk at his project.  Probably she doesn’t know what to ask either.

“Will said he had fun.”  Eleven held the top of the handle, as Steve surveyed the whole, then adjusted it to be a bit more crooked.

“I can’t believe you’re kissing Billy,” Max moaned into her hands.  “He’s disgusting.  He put his cigarette out in his beer can once, forgot, went to drink it again, and then when he saw me watching he wouldn’t back down, he just drank it!  With the cigarette in there!”  Eleven and Steve both made faces.  Steve felt like he should...defend Billy’s honor, or something, but Max was on a roll.  “His room smells like a whole basketball team jacked off in a garbage truck.  Made of armpits.”  

Steve snorted.  “...he’s been pretty clean, actually.  He does the dishes all the--”

“Billy knows how to do dishes?”  Max stared vaguely at the cupboard of glaze behind him, wide-eyed.  

“Maybe it’s because he likes Steve,” Eleven sat her chin on the table, staring up, “--maybe--”

“He must, what’d you say to him,” Max refocused on Steve’s face.  

“...to...make him do dishes?” Steve trailed off, lost.  “I thanked him?”

“I guess, but--no, like...what’d you--at the party, he wouldn’t tell me.”  She folded her hands together, pointing at him. “When you met. What the hell happened.  Why would my asshole brother--”

“At the...party?”  Steve squinted.

“Yeah, that stupid party, he was practising in front of the mirror all afternoon--Tommy kept talking about you, and he was gonna, like, tear you off your throne.  Swagger over from across the room and just--look badass, I guess, what’d he finally end up saying?  He couldn’t decide.”

“...when he...came over to us?  At the party? He...didn’t. He just like...stalked over and stared at me and--I think he wandered off, I was with Nancy.”

Max slowly folded over the table to collapse in wheezing giggles.  “No--no way--he--he couldn’t talk--he saw your face and--Steve.  He couldn’t talk.  He fucking--the goddamn--the goddamn idiot--”

That seemed unlikely, but Steve tried to remember.  “He and Tommy just stared at me, I didn’t know what to--”

“Oh my god,” Max cackled.  “Uncool! So uncool, Billy, weak, jesus christ--oh my god--he saw your dumb face and he couldn’t make words--” 

“...so he fell in love with you?”  Eleven’s stomach growled.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve laughed, focusing on the stupid vase.  It wasn’t as funny, suddenly.  I was gonna throw it out anyway, he reminded himself.  He’s supposed to think it’s shitty, that’s--that’s the joke.  “He was probably too drunk.”

“Not if he was walking around,” Max snickered.  “His feet go first, he starts stumbling all over himself--he got drunk on your big brown eyes, Steve.  Oh my god.”

“Ha.  Yeah. Shouldn’t you guys go eat lunch?”  

Max staggered to her feet, still sniggering, and walked around to smack his shoulder.  “I’m gonna give him so much shit for this.  No wonder he climbed out the goddamn window to play house and wash your fucking dishes, oh my god.”  She wiped her eyes.  “Oh my god, Steve, my dumb brother is--like--he’s--”

“Shut up, Max,” he rolled his eyes, “--he just got distracted, he’s not--”

“No, he totally is,” she leaned in close, narrowed eyes inches from his, “--and you want him to be, don’t you--”

“Shut up, Max,” he said, through his teeth, at the vase.  “Fuck off. I’ll try to get done faster, but--shut up.  Seriously.”

“What?  No, he is, really, Steve, he--”

“Let’s go,” Eleven tugged at her sleeve.  “Max. We can just ask him.” Steve stared after them in horror, imagining that scene of carnage, but couldn’t make himself follow.  Max knows what he’s like, she’ll stop Eleven, he told himself, and felt his cheeks flame up.  He shook his head, burying his hot face in his arms.  Max is his sister, and she knows him really well.

 Tommy came and threw his arm around Steve’s shoulders as his next class ended, and Carol sat on his desk.  “We got some cherry vodka,” she kicked his knee, lightly. “You could stop crying into your pillow--”

Tommy snickered.  “Whining over your princess--” 

“--and come get plastered.  My mom’s got the night shift, we’ll have the house to ourselves--”

After a moment of staring, convinced they knew he’d coaxed Billy out his tower window, Steve flushed, remembering he was an idiot.  “Uh, can’t tonight.”

“Told you he turned into a--” Carol punched Tommy in the shoulder, and he shoved her off the desk.  She put a hand on Steve’s shoulder to steady herself, leaning in to whisper, “We know how to have a great time without you, your majesty, just wait--”

Tommy swung his hand right between their faces, and they both recoiled.  

“Okay?”  Steve raised his eyebrows.  “Soooo...go have an awesome time, woohoo?”

Carol grabbed Tommy’s hand and drug him out as the bell rang, and Steve shook his head, packing his bag, and trying to wrap his brain around the economics of the Roaring Twenties.

 Fresh snow covered the driveway, so Billy hadn’t wandered back yet.  Steve pulled up in the driveway, flapped his arm back to find his bag, then unhooked his seatbelt to wedge himself between the seats and grab for it.  A siren beeped in the driveway behind him.

When he slowly lifted his head, El was waving wildly through Hopper’s windshield, nearly elbowing a grinning Mike in the face.  Hopper sauntered over, surveying the font of Steve’s house.  He’s seen me, Steve thought, he’ll yank me out if I crawl under the seats.  

“Just getting home?” Hopper raised his eyebrows as Steve climbed out, and Steve nodded.

“Yeah.  Uh. I’m doing some--extra credit.”  He tried to be subtle wiping his palms on his pants.  “Is--is something wrong?”

Hopper frowned at the ground, and scratched his stubble.  “Been having some real interesting conversations, the last few days.”  

Steve laughed through his rising dread, grabbing his backpack off the seat and locking his car.  “Okay…”

“El was hoping you’d come for pizza.  In the next couple days. You and the Hargrove kid.”

Steve swallowed, and cleared his throat.  “I--I guess, yeah?”

She’d leaned over to honk the horn, and Mike was wrestling with her, but she still waved.  They were both laughing. Steve took a deep breath, and shrugged. “Sure. I’ll--I’ll talk to him.”

“Probably oughtta meet the kid taking my girl out for waffles,” Hopper side-eyed him, mouth quirked, and Steve scrabbled at his hair.

“She can break his fingers, I figured.”  He snuck a dry-mouthed glance at Hopper’s gun, wondering when he’d switched from imagining it as protection against monsters to Billy Hargrove with a bullet hole in his head.

“Kid,” Hopper dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder.  “--she’s trying hard to sell me on your boy. I’m not your enemy, here.”

Your boy reverberated around Steve’s head while Hopper drove away, and Steve cupped his hands over his face, paced in a circle in the snow, and blew deep breaths into his fingers.  He leaned against the bumper of his car, watching the road, then stalked around in another circle, rubbing his arms, before heading to Ms. Williams with Billy’s mom’s phone number burning a hole in his pocket.  Before he left, she came over and patted his elbow, while he was hugging the head of the nearest dog goodbye.  

“My darling...saw a lot out there,” she said, folding her gnarled hands.  “Hawkins has always been...Hawkins. My sweetie talked to someone, you know?  It helped to...talk it out. Maybe you should think about it.” She was smiling at the dog, where it was wriggling harder against his chest, and he didn’t feel the bristle he had when Nancy brought it up.

“Maybe Billy should,” he muttered, into short warm fur.

“Maybe he should,” she agreed.

 When he got home, Billy’s car still wasn’t there.  He let himself in, taking a deep breath of the lingering smell of lasagna, and cologne, and just...it smells less stale.  You’d think somebody lived here.  He took the stairs three at a time, figuring he’d try to get his remaining homework out of the way before Billy arrived, and turned on the landing to find his door broken.  It was hanging crooked on one hinge. There was a smear of what looked like blood on it, and he slammed into it, shouting for Billy. He threw the bathroom door open, and Billy’s bedroom, crawled around on the floor to make sure he wasn’t lying somewhere, and took a deep breath.  “You fucking bastard,” he yelled, “--if you’re in here, you answer me.”  The house stayed quiet.  Steve rubbed his face, took a deep breath, and ran downstairs.  He turned toward the garage, then back, and frowned at the table, then stalked over and snatched up the note.  “‘Sorry about the door,” he read aloud, “--went out to calm my shit. Back late or tomorrow morning.’” Steve dropped into a chair, banging his elbow on the table.  He didn’t feel it. “‘There’s still lasagna.’...jesus, Billy.”  

 When the walkie-talkie came on, Steve was supposed to be editing his essay.  Mostly, he was holding his pencil between his nose and his upper lip, staring at the ceiling, and ignoring the characters on Dallas.  “Harrington,” came Billy’s voice, and Steve flailed off the couch and ran to the kitchen, frowning around.  “...Harrington,” Billy called again. “...pick up, Steve Harrington. Sorry I broke your door.”  

Steve grabbed up the walkie-talkie from the hook by the door and flopped back on the couch, grinning.  He pressed the button. “Hargrove.”

“Pick up, pick up,” Billy was crooning.  His voice sounded soft, and a little slurred.  “Talk to me, your majesty--oh. Over.” “Jesus, I’m here, idiot, shut up.  You have to click the button. Over.”

“You’re talking to me.” Billy sounded so happy about it, Steve’s heart gave a weird thump, and he rolled against the back of the couch to cover his hot face.  “...’m sorry I broke your door.”

He forgot again.  Steve shook his head, waiting for the eventual “Over.”  He grinned, holding the walkie-talkie with both hands. “Yeah, what the hell?  You okay, honeymustard? Dick?” There was a long pause, and Steve sat up. “Babe?  Oh, sorry, over.”

“...I think, yeah.  Yeah, I’m over,” Billy mumbled back, and Steve sighed, letting himself drop back against the couch again.  

He leaned to click off the TV.  “Thanks for leaving a note, moron.  Go ‘head.”

“...shit.  Sorry about the door,” Billy’s voice dropped to a whisper.  “Sorry.”

“I’m not mad!”  Steve clicked it off to groan loudly, then clicked it back on with a frown of concentration.  “I’m not mad, Billy Hargrove. Okay?”

“Your car was there and I yelled for you.  I thought…”

“You fucking thought I was ignoring you.  Yeah. You know what, the doorknob works. I mean, it did, before you broke it.  Jesus, Hargrove.  I’m not--” he took a deep breath, and punched a pillow.  “--you scared the shit out of me, you--you fucking--shithead bastard, I thought your dad came and--” Steve pressed his eyelids, swallowing, until he could breathe smoothly again.  “I thought he took you, you--you goddamn fuck.  I was about to go over there with a bat, I--I thought he drug you out.”

“Shit.”  Billy paused.  “Nope. I’m...I’m at Tommy’s, I...think.”  He hummed, considering, and Steve laughed, and wiped his eyes.  “Does Tommy...have...ruffles. Ruffly...canopy bed?”

“I hope so,” Steve told him, earnestly, and Billy started giggling.  “If it’s yellow check, though, no, you’re at Carol’s.”

“‘M at Carol’s,” Billy repeated.  “...okay.”  

After another pause, he said “Huh,” and Steve laughed harder against the back of the couch.  “You need a ride, Hargrove?”

“...kinda drunk,” Billy informed him, in a stage whisper, and Steve tried not to cackle.  

“Yeah, shithead, I can tell--”

“I am ex--I’m--I’m just as drunk as I need to be,” Billy announced, as Steve wandered over to the door and started pulling on shoes.  “Tommy…” he huffed, “--Ha-Harrington, y’know...Tommy, he…”

Steve bit his lips together, raising his eyebrows, and wondered what tragedy Drunk Billy would think deserved that level of gravity.  “Tommy found my condoms,” Billy sighed.  “They were flavored.”

Steve, flapping an arm for his jacket sleeve, almost fell into the wall laughing.  “You dumbshit,” he snorted. “At least you bought some.  They’ll sell more, y’know.”

“It was banana.”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve shook his head, grabbing his keys, and a dorky bobble-headed ski hat with a matching scarf.  “We can find you more banana condoms, babe.”

“He put it on and pretended to be King Kong,” Billy mumbled.  “He beat his chest. Preten--pretended she was, y’know. The blonde.  Think I was a hunter? I don’t even know.”

Steve cracked up laughing, stumbled, and had to lean against his door.  “Wait, what? You--you all--all three of you?  Yeah, okay, I see why you needed to get bombed.  You and Tommy and Carol?!  Christ. You okay?  Go on.”

“Shut up, like you--you never--never?  Over.”

“Never have I ever,” Steve snorted.  “Ever. God, how did that even happen?  They tried to lure me over there earlier, did they jump you, or…?”

“I drink to forget,” Billy sighed, then snorted into the microphone.  Steve winced at the loud gust of static. “Harrington. Monkey noises.  He kept--he wouldn’t stop--he Tarzan yelled the whole time, Harrington--it’s--it’s all--makes you vibrate.”

“Shut up, jesus, I’m jogging, keep making me laugh and I’ll trip.  Eugh.” Steve focused on Billy’s voice, and not the falling snow. “You okay, though?  Your turn.”

“He tasted like a plastic banana,” Billy groaned.  “...what? You’re...on a run? Why--what time…” There was some scuffling, and a static-y groan from Billy’s end.  “...god, I can’t--I’m gonna puke.”

“Then go puke,” Steve panted, foggy in the streetlights.  “Just click off first.”

“I don’t want to,” Billy groaned.  “...over.”

“That’s okay,” Steve snorted.  “Are you okay?  Go ahead.”

“...never okay,” Billy laughed.  It sounded wet. “I’m not--even Will could fucking tell, shit, Harrington.  Thought--I thought, y’know. I thought we were okay. Thought he was...fine, with me.  Some of your kids, they’re--Max hates me, but El. Will. Thought they didn’t, not as much.”

“Oh, damn,” Steve grimaced, turtling his shoulders so his scarf warmed his face.  “Hargrove--”

Billy’d forgotten to click off his mike, so he couldn’t hear.  “I know they’re not dumb. Not gonna decide I’m great from a few waffles.  I could tell he gave me the dipshit character, but he was useful sometimes--”

Oh my god, Steve couldn’t help snickering.  “Babe.”

“--and he could fight better than your dumb impotent ass--”

“Oy, we fixed my sword,” Steve told the walkie-talkie, since Billy wasn’t listening.

“--even if he was all ‘wish my brother was here, he can read,’ I mean, I think he was pretty dim--Will had that right--”

Steve slowed to a walk, laughing.  “You are thinking way too hard here--”

“--he remembered to bring firewood up the mountain.  The lil fairies would have died, Harrington. Will and you and Wizard Hopper.”

“I can’t reply, lamebrain, so I don’t know what you want from me,” Steve told the walkie-talkie, jogging again.  

“Been frozen.  Frozen to death.  And I made a path with you.  Together.”

“You are absolutely wasted, babe,” Steve pushed his hood down, starting to sweat.  He yanked his scarf off and stuffed it in a pocket, without slowing.

“...but I’m really just evil, right?”  Billy sighed in a burst of static. “An--an’ I don’t like women.  Elfs. Steveagorn,” he whispered. “You hooked up with Nancy in those woods, right?  The Loathly Elf Woods.”

“I want a lawyer,” Steve said to nobody, after rolling his eyes.  

“And then I tried to beat up a kid,” Billy yelled, “--again, I tried to beat Will up and take his stupid magic ring and I scared him--Harrington,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “...this phone isn’t plugged in to anything.”

“Christ,” Steve resisted the urge to shake the walkie-talkie, and ran faster.  

“...why’s Carol have a toy phone,” Billy mumbled.  “So dumb I’m talking to a plastic baby phone, your majesty.  Will could tell, he knew I was scary, he--he knew I’d have to be put down.  I’m weak and I die, right? Kid gets the ring and he’s fine for years.  Billy Hargrove stands next to him for two days and loses his fucking mind.  That’s my shit ending. I’m the--the fucking weak link.”

“It’s a walkie-talkie, Hargrove, you fucking moron, click the button,” Steve yelled, and a light came on in a house after he passed, but he was listening to what sounded like Billy Hargrove starting to sniffle, and he put on a burst of speed.  “He said you die saving them, you dipshit,” he told Billy, knowing he couldn’t hear.

By the time he turned into the right driveway, Billy was mumbling at random again.  “God. This...this is thick--”

“Sure it is,” Steve snorted, tiptoeing through the snow to Carol’s door, and patting the top of the door for the spare key.  

“I think this is...creme de menthe and...maybe Fra Angelico?”

“Stop drinking it,” Steve hissed, leaning inside.  He coughed on a cloud of marijuana smoke.  “Hargrove!” he stage-whispered, and the walkie-talkie sighed with a burst of static.  

“...I hear Steve Harrington on this toy phone.”  

He finally clicked the button, probably, because Steve heard a muffled “Fuck me,” from upstairs when he asked  “Where’re Tommy and Carol? Click the button when you’re done talking, Hargrove.”

“...in the shower..?”  Billy hummed. “...I hear a shower.”

“I think I found your pants,” Steve informed him, picking up the crumpled pile on the stairs.  “D’you see your shirt anywhere?”

“...your sweatshirt..?”  Billy mumbled. “...where is Steve’s sweatshirt.”

“Are you asking the floor?”  Steve grinned, scooping up another lump of fabric, squinting at it in the dark, and finally giving it a sniff.  It smelled like beer, but he tucked it in his arm.  In case I can’t find more clothes, it’ll--

“Too goddamn...bombed to look for clothes, Harrington.  I’ll get it. Bring it tomorrow.”

Steve could hear Billy in both ears, creeping up the stairs--and the shower, which was reassuring, since he figured Carol would be completely justified losing her shit if she found Steve Harrington tiptoeing around in the dead of night.  He poked his head in her room, snorted at the piled blankets on the floor, and the bra on the doorknob, and crept around the bed to see Billy, naked, on his back.  

Billy tried to wave a bottle, and it slid through his fingers, making a conk noise against his cheek before it rolled away.  

Steve tried not to laugh.  He grabbed it, crouching, and caught Billy’s flailing fingers, surveying his sweaty, sticky tanned skin in the low light of the lamp on Carol’s bedside table.  “Hey, Hargrove,” he whispered, turning the walkie-talkie off, and stuffing it in his jacket pocket. “Didn’t that hurt? You too numb?”

“Steve isn’t here.”  Billy squinted up, smiling.  He held up the other walkie-talkie, and dropped it on his chest with a thud.  “He’s on the phone.”

“Nope,” Steve winced, laughing, and grabbed it, looking around for Billy’s bag, “--he came to get you.  Stop waving things, babe, that’s gonna hurt tomorrow--”

Billy swallowed.  “No. I’m a fucking mess, go away--”

“Yeah,” Steve leaned across him to grab the bag, kissing his fingers before letting them go, “--can you get to the bathroom?  It’s right there--”

“They’re in there.  Harrington. They’re probably screwing--”

“Yeah, but they’ve seen your naked ass already, right?  Go on, you can clean up a little.”

“...gonna puke,” Billy muttered.  “‘M seeing...Steves. I should stop drinking.  Go away, I’ll stop.”

“Probably should,” Steve agreed, lifting pieces of clothing between two extended fingers, and trying to remember whose they were.  “...serves Carol right if I haul you home stuffed in one of her turtlenecks,” he muttered, and Billy snorted, rolling onto his side to snicker silently.  “...go puke if you need to, Hargrove.” Steve patted his hair, after checking for any visible...disgusting reasons he wouldn’t want to, and Billy laughed harder, nodding.  

“You can’t be here,” he grinned up.  “Nobody’s telling Steve. Nobody. Tommy won’t tell Steve and Carol won’t tell--” his eyes widened, and his voice dropped to a whisper.  “I told Steve.  On--” he batted at the walkie-talkie.  “On Carol’s toy phone.” He flailed his arm, then dropped it over his face.  

“This was supposed to be secret?”  Steve rifled through another pile of clothes, feeling an internal twist he hadn’t when he’d figured Billy was just at his usual bullshit.  “What, is this a regular thing, just keep it from Steve? Big old secret from Steve. Great. That’s great, that’s--that’s really excellent, screw you, Hargrove--”

“Okay,” Billy mumbled, just as a Tarzan yell came from the bathroom, and the guttural, slurred words “C’mere, kitten, Koko’s ready for you.”

Steve choked on a horrified snicker, and Billy groaned, and rolled to grab the bottle of thick brownish-green liquer.  

“Not drunk enough,” he muttered, and Steve grabbed it back, trying not to cackle.  

“Stop, babe, look what happens--”

“I’m in Planet of the Apes...they’re gonna want me gone.” Billy paused to squint at him, “...Harrington?”

“Jesus,” Steve grabbed his hand, “--lemme pull you up, let’s get you out of here--”  

Max was right, Steve realized, bewildered, as he tried to pull Hargrove upright, and had to catch at his waist when none of his joints supported weight.  His words work, but his feet don’t.

“Sorry,” he moaned, covering his mouth and slumping against Steve’s legs, and Steve crouched again.  

“...you’re like a water balloon,” he whispered back.  “Don’t you have bones? A beer balloon.”

“Is it morning?” Billy asked muzzily, and Steve groaned.

“Let’s get some clothes on your naked ass,” he got an arm around Billy’s shoulders, and held him upright enough to yank him into the Hardy Boys t-shirt he’d found in the blankets of Carol’s bed.  Billy tried to help, which made it take longer, but eventually he had Billy Hargrove poured mostly into a t-shirt and jeans. The only socks he found had pompoms, but he pulled them on Billy’s shivering feet.  

“Sorry you’re late for class,” Billy grinned up at him, and Steve’s lips thinned, as he wondered why he wasn’t even annoyed, except with Tommy and Carol.  He let Billy drag him back down for a kiss, and tried not to make too obvious a face--both at the sticky-sweet mint and almond taste of what Billy’d been drinking, and the thought that his mouth might have been on Tommy or Carol’s, and he hadn’t brushed his teeth.  Billy’s description of the taste of banana condom popped into his head, and he shuddered--I think the worst I’ve done drunk was...however I ended up in that parking lot, Steve tried to remember, hefting Billy to prop him against the bedpost, and turning to get him piggybacked.  Another Tarzan yell, this time in unison, came from the bathroom, and Steve and Billy twitched in unison.  At least I never woke up like this.

“Probably your sweatshirt came off first, if your jeans were on the stairs,” Steve thought aloud, and Billy swung a loose fist at his shoulder.

“...’syour sweatshirt.  Dumbass.”

“Right.”  Steve narrowed his eyes.  “Let’s go hunt it down.” He scooped Billy’s bag up from the floor, and the bottle of gross alcohol.

“Favorite,” Billy mumbled into his neck.  

When they got down the stairs, Steve sat Billy in front of the toilet.  “You should probably throw up, Hargrove.” Once Billy was wedged between the wall and the toilet, and facing basically the right way, Steve snuck off to look for his sweatshirt, listening for the shower above.  He found it with a leopard-print condom packet on it, and shook his head, stuffing it in a pocket. The bottle he dumped down the sink--what’s wrong with beer, he thought, cringing--shook clean, and filled with water, before to returning to rub Billy��s back and get him to rinse his mouth.  

“...probably should stop,” Billy eyed it, and spat, wiping his mouth.  

“No, come on, drink some,” Steve unscrewed the lid, and held it up, sliding his other hand up the back of Billy’s head.

Billy didn’t argue, but he pressed back away from it, turning his head.

“Come on, if I have to make little airplane noises, I will,” he swished around in the bottle.

“...’f I drink that much vodka, I’ll die,” Billy said in a flat voice, eyes flicking to Steve’s face.

“Shit, no, it’s water,” Steve stared at him, “--just water, from the sink.  So you won’t be as hungover. Okay?”

Billy’s expression didn’t change, but he let Steve tip up the bottle and give him a few swallows before he pulled away again.  

“You okay?”  Steve tucked a few wild curls behind Billy’s ear.

“Fine, just a goddamn mess,” Billy told the toilet, laughing, and Steve rubbed his face.  “‘Cause you’re the king, and I’m the weak link.”

“Christ.  He was a knight, babe.  He died saving the little guys, remember?”

“...nope,” Billy accepted another few swallows, and took a shaky breath.  

“If I’m the king, I can say you’re a knight, right?” Steve tried, leaning to catch his eye.  “I can just say ‘This is William of Hargrove, my knight--’”

Billy started giggling, leaning his cheek on the edge of the toilet bowl, and Steve pulled him back.  “This sweatshirt a favor, King Harrington?”

“Yes?  Sure?” Steve agreed with whatever made Billy grin like that, though it was hard getting him in the sweatshirt, with him slumped half in Steve’s lap.  It was easier getting him in the scarf and bobblehat, and Steve didn’t even bother with shoes.  He’d grab them on the way out, he hoped.

“--’m I your favorite knight?” Billy mumbled, and Steve kissed his cheek, hauling him upright, and hoisting him again, so Billy’s mouth rested against his ear.  “You can say no, I’m not gonna remember much.”

“What?  Jesus, you’re heavy,” Steve stopped, heard the upstairs bathroom door open, and leapt for the door.  He locked it hurriedly, plonking the key back in its place, and hoping they didn’t notice the melting snow his shoes had left.  “Where’d you park, babe?”

“Why is my car here,” Billy asked, and Steve sighed, squinting under streetlights for the Camaro as he tromped along the street.

“Shit.  You are smashed, sweet--dickhead--”

“Sir,” Billy corrected, his drunk breath warm against Steve’s ear.  “Sir William, right.”

“Y’know, if you won’t remember.  You take too damn long in the bathroom, Sir William Hargrove.  You’re already pretty, let somebody else get their hair done.”

“Prettier than you,” Billy snorted.

“You’re such a prick.  Can’t believe you had wild monkey sex with Tommy and Carol--”

“I can’t either,” Billy groaned.  “Thank fuck I won’t remember. I’m your favorite knight, though.  Tell me tomorrow--”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you tomorrow.  Give you a sweatshirt again.”

“Okay,” Billy nuzzled his neck, and Steve ducked his head, grinning.

“There’s been--there’s been a lot, uh.  I talked to your mom? She loves you. I’ll tell you that tomorrow, too.”

“What,” Billy’s voice cracked.

“God.  I got home and--I thought your dad drug you out of the fucking house, asshole.  I’d--I’d have--” Steve took a deep breath. “I--I’m--pretty sure the sheriff knows we’re screwing?”

“What the fuck,” Billy hissed, arms tightening around Steve’s neck and shoulders.  Steve let go of Billy’s leg to adjust the bag around his neck, and something sticky rubbed his hand.  To his disgust, he pulled out a condom-covered banana. “Uh,” he said.

“Shit, I don’t think so,” Billy whispered.  “I hope not, fuck.”

Steve sighed, tossing it over his shoulder, and pinched the bridge of his nose.  “I--I think I’m falling in fucking love with you, Knight Banana Ass.”

“Jesus christ.  That’s my car, get me in, I need something to write that down with.”

Steve started laughing so hard he almost fell, and Billy smacked his shoulder.

Thanks @tbehartoo​, @waterhobbit​, @perfectfestivalalienfish​ for beta-reading!  Here’s the Ao3 link:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/16876677/chapters/50623466

(For reference, this is the kind of thing Steve’s class is making.  Obvs. he is making sure his is the worst.)

[purplesurveys]

476

If someone's laughing, do you instantly think they're laughing at you? Egh no, not really. I’ve had people laugh at me but I do know about it; I’ve never felt paranoid like this. What is the strangest thing you've been asked? My mom’s masseuse asked me if I was pregnant after taking a good look at me and deciding I looked familiar. It felt weird and eerie until I told my parents about it the next day and they said “Oh yeah, she’s the one with the third eye.” Didn’t feel as strange after that, but at the time when she looked me dead in the eye and asked me that question it was definitely so weird lmao. What’s the weirdest thing about life that people just accept as normal? Sometimes I wonder how people from the far past got to decide how certain animals were safe to eat even though they a) clearly scream danger, b) have such a complex way of being consumed (like crabs), or c) ARE STRAIGHT UP POISONOUS (like the pufferfish in Japan). But hey, we’re all eating them right now.

What was your favorite game as a child? I liked local games. We had langit-lupa (heaven and earth), piko (hopscotch), ice-ice water (freeze tag), Chinese garter, 10-20, and patintero. What’s the stupidest thing you've ever heard? Anything that comes out of conservative Catholics’ mouths.

What's the most random thing you've done out of boredom? It would have to be that time that I got really depressed last December and I spent all my Christmas savings meant for friends and family on a bunch of coloring books and my own set of coloring pencils. All for myself. It’s a little morbid, but whaever.  What show did your parents not let you watch as a kid? My parents were pretty liberal and weren’t too strict about shows. My mom absolutely hated Mr. Bean though because she was convinced he was the reason my brother didn’t start talking until he was like 6. She would change the channel if it was on, but she didn’t outright ban us or anything. What is your personal catchphrase? I don’t have one. What is the most pleasurable feeling that doesn't involve anything sexual? Biting into your favorite food after a whole day of not eating. What was your 'Oops, wrong person' moment? I don’t think I have one. I’d die of embarrassment. What do you find attractive that isn't considered 'normal' attraction? I really can’t bring myself to be into the muscular/buff look and don’t mind if someone is on the bigger side, is skinny, or is generelly not a gym person. What’s the dumbest thing you’ve done drunk? Fell asleep in the pool. What's your proudest moment in the bathroom? ?????? What’s something you own that gets you lots of compliments? Technically not mine, but Gabie would lend me a windbreaker-type of jacket that was very colorful. It was green, yellow, pink, basically a very bright and gay jacket. I got complimented on it EVERY SINGLE TIME I wore it by nearly every single person who passed by me in school – and I wish I was kidding lmao. She got it in Baguio for 50 pesos ($1), it’s insane. I think it was lost by another person she lent it to. A damn shame. If money was no object, where would you want to live? Canada. Who is your favourite mythological character? In the brief moment I was into mythology, I really liked the way Rick Riordan wrote Apollo to be in his Percy Jackson series. Big ol’goofball. What's something that's happened which couldn't happen at a worse time? [continued from this afternoon] > Had the sign for my gas start blinking while I was stuck in standstill traffic > Get into a car accident while finally making a turn to the gas station > Get pulled over by an officer for changing a lane and nearly hitting a car, because unbeknownst to me, the accident had closed my right side mirror, making me not see my entire right side and I almost hit the car to my right All happened within ten minutes. I was a freshman in high school and couldn’t be more terrified. Police let me go when I started having a panic attack. What is the best pickup line you've ever heard? I don’t like pickup lines. What did aging ruin for you? Dreams. What is the most hilarious thing you’ve ever heard? Idk, I’ve found a lot of things hilarious. What is the darkest thing you have seen on the internet? It would be either Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared or Too Many Cooks. What's something you really enjoy, but can't have? A regularly luxurious life. What Wikipedia article have you recently read? OMG hahaha so there were times in internship where nothing was tasked to me FOR HOURS and I would get super bored. Then I remember hearing from somewhere that Wikipedia has a whole article that’s just a list of unusual deaths that’s happened from modern history until the present, and I gobbled that shit up until I was given a responsibility. I found out more listicles they apparently had – list of last words, list of people who disappeared mysteriously, etc; read all of those too. What's a book you were made to read in school that you really liked? My #1 would have to be Without Seeing the Dawn by Steven Javellana. It’s the most honest narration of the Philippines’ Japanese occupation I’ve ever read. It’s painful to read, but it’s the beauty of it. What objective did you fail to complete this week? I told myself I was gonna start externals work for my org, but I’ve just been so burned out in the last month that I haven’t gotten around to starting yet. I definitely have to this week, though so it’s not like I’ll completely fail it. What could have gotten worse for you but it didn't? Tbh the desire to end my life? I threw in the towel by the time I was 12, but I’m still here so I guess life is doing something right.

What subject should be taught at schools, but isn't? Adulting. Like being taught about taxes, social security, insurance, documents they ask when you apply for a job, etc. I’m 21 and I know nothing about these. I didn’t even know what insurance meant until I was 20. What is the best thing about having a Significant Other? The idea of having a go-to person for everything is very comforting for me. What makes you unusually uncomfortable? Distorted sound effects. It’s probably not unusual though. What is an upcoming purchase you're excited about? It’s no longer future tense because I was finally able to find Pop-Tarts at the nearby mall! I couldn’t find it ANYWHERE in the last couple of years and I’ve been craving it for the same period of time. Then Gab convinced me to try the supermarket at the mall we went to today and we found a box of Chocolate Fudge gloriously sitting on one of the shelves. It was way more expensive than I remember it being, but I waited for so long that I just grabbed it and didn’t care about my budget anymore. What is the worst game you've ever played? The Hannah Montana game for the Wii that I had was so bad it was good. What’s the oddest thing you like to do? I don’t think I have particularly odd habits. What's the funniest news story you've seen in the past few weeks? There’s a satirical article I came across a week ago that was about how dinosaurs got extinct because they ate pineapples on pizza. It was made even more hilarious by the fact that it included a graphic of dinosaurs and there were slices of pizza with pineapples on them photoshopped into the graphic. Definitely pissed off a number of pineapple enthusiasts that day lmaaaaao. What do you really really want right now? I’m so excited to eat my Pop-Tarts but I think I should save them for tomorrow. What do you hide from people? Suicidal thoughts, because I never wanna bother anyone. What was the first sign you knew you had a crush on someone? When I actively avoided her because it hurt to see her. HAHAHAH yuck drama What's the best lemonade you've made from the lemons life gave you? Lasting long enough to create a family in the form of my orgmates. Who was your cartoon crush while growing up? Sam from Totally Spies. What's the best way to deal with religious door knockers? We don’t have that culture here but I most likely would just never open the door. What’s the most hypocritical thing you’ve ever seen or heard? A large chunk of Catholics. Who’s the most interesting person you’ve ever met? When I was still interning at my PR firm, I shadowed my supervisor in an interview that one of our clients had for that day. Our client���s representative is the biggest badass I’ve met. He’s from South Africa and was born and raised at a time when apartheid was still around. He’s white, so he was brainwashed in school to think that they were superior and for a time, he really thought his race was. Then he got to work under Nelson Mandela’s party when he was much older and that was the only time he realized how backwards that mindset was. Anyway he had Mandela’s spies stalk his ass every single day because of his background and he ultimately got shot twice. There’s loads more stories to tell but I don’t want to give him away. 

When I was watching him get interviewed he proved to have a lot of knowledge on history and current events too so that’s another plus. He was just super cool and it was a breath of fresh air to talk to a foreigner that was more aware of social situations than the average Filipino. What just doesn't impress you? Carly Rae Jepsen. What’s the worst possible way to introduce yourself? There’s no worst way; just don’t try too hard because the bullshit can be detected so easily. What makes you wish that you were born in the past or the future? How easy it was to make a living and score a job decades ago. What tragic event was coincidentally beneficial to you? My breakup. What's something people are proud of, but it doesn't impress you? ‘Miracles.’ What's the worst possible moment to go and play on a bouncy castle? Doing it with a bunch of sweaty, rowdy kids. Who is the greatest ever comedian? Not really into comedians so my recommendations might suck for some. What’s your irrational fear? Commercials at night. What's your oldest memory? Playing in a Winnie the Pooh tent when I was 3. What can you not wake up without? Checking the time. What did you think was cool when you were younger that you now think isn’t? Wristbands. What are your favourite or most memorable lines from any movie/show? “How do you like them apples?” from Good Will Hunting. What's something people love to hate? The Kardashians. What’s something that is underrated but extremely useful? Being polite.

[dear--charlie]

Dear friend,

September 29, 1991 

There is a lot to tell you about the last two weeks. A lot of it is good, but a lot of it is bad. Again, I don’t know why this always happens. First of all, Bill gave me a C on my To Kill a Mockingbird essay because he said that I run my sentences together. I am trying now to practice not to do that. He also said that I should use the vocabulary words that I learn in class like “corpulent” and “jaundice.” I would use them here, but I really don’t think they are appropriate in this format. To tell you the truth, I don’t know where they are appropriate to use. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t know them. You should absolutely. But I just have never heard anyone use the words “corpulent” and “jaundice” ever in my life. That includes teachers. So, what’s the point of using words nobody else knows or can say comfortably? I just don’t understand that. I feel the same way about some movie stars who are terrible to watch. Some of these people must have a million dollars at least, and yet, they keep doing these movies. They blow up bad guys. They yell at their detectives. They do interviews for magazines. Every time I see this one particular movie star on a magazine, I can’t help but feel terribly sorry for her because nobody respects her at 11 all, and yet they keep interviewing her. And the interviews all say the same thing. They start with what food they are eating in some restaurant. “As ---- gingerly munched her Chinese Chicken Salad, she spoke of love.” And all the covers say the same thing: “---- gets to the bottom of stardom, love, and hissther hit new moviesttelevision showstalbum.” I think it’s nice for stars to do interviews to make us think they are just like us, but to tell you the truth, I get the feeling that it’s all a big lie. The problem is I don’t know who’s lying. And I don’t know why these magazines sell as much as they do. And I don’t know why the ladies in the dentist’s office like them as much as they do. A Saturday ago, I was in the dentist’s office, and I heard this conversation. “Did you see that movie?” as she points to the cover. “I did. I saw it with Harold.” “What do you think?” “She is just lovely.” “Yeah. She is.” “Oh, I have this new recipe.” “Low-fat?” “Uh-huh.” “Do you have some time tomorrow?” “No. Why don’t you have Mike fax it to Harold?” “Okay.” Then, these ladies started talking about the one star I mentioned before, and they both had very strong opinions. “I think it’s disgraceful.” “Did you read the interview in Good Housekeeping?” “A few months back?” “Uh-huh.” “Disgraceful.” “Did you read the one in Cosmopolitan?” “No.” “God, it was practically the same interview.” “I don’t know why they give her the time of day.” The fact that one of these ladies was my mom made me feel particularly sad because my mom is beautiful. And she’s always on a diet. Sometimes, my dad calls her beautiful, but she cannot hear him. Incidentally, my dad is a very good husband. He’s just pragmatic. After the dentist’s office, my mom drove me to the cemetery where a lot of her relatives are 12 buried. My dad does not like to go to the cemetery because it gives him the creeps. But I don’t mind going at all because my Aunt Helen is buried there. My mom was always the pretty one, as they say, and my Aunt Helen was always the other one. The nice thing was my Aunt Helen was never on a diet. And my Aunt Helen was “corpulent.” Hey, I did it! My Aunt Helen would always let us kids stay up and watch Saturday Night Live when she was baby-sitting or when she was living with us and my parents went to another couple’s house to get drunk and play board games. When I was very little, I remember going to sleep, while my brother and sister and Aunt Helen watched Love Boat and Fantasy Island. I could never stay awake when I was that little, and I wish I could, because my brother and sister talk about those moments sometimes. Maybe it’s sad that these are now memories. And maybe it’s not sad. And maybe it’s just the fact that we loved Aunt Helen, especially me, and this was the time we could spend with her. I won’t start listing television episode memories, except one because I guess we’re on the subject, and it seems like something everyone can relate to in a small way. And since I don’t know you, I figure that maybe I can write about something that you can relate to. The family was sitting around, watching the final episode of More”inA”inSo”inHave, and I’ll never forget it even though I was very young. My mom was crying. My sister was crying. My brother was using every ounce of strength he had not to cry. And my dad left during one of the final moments to make a sandwich. Now, I don’t remember much about the program itself because I was too young, but my dad never left to make a sandwich except during commercial breaks, and then he usually just sent my mom. I walked to the kitchen, and I saw my dad making a sandwich ... and crying. He was crying harder than even my mom. And I couldn’t believe it. When he finished making his sandwich, he put away the things in the refrigerator and stopped crying and wiped his eyes and saw me. Then, he walked up, patted my shoulder, and said, “This is our little secret, okay, champ?” “Okay,” I said. And Dad picked me up with the arm that wasn’t holding the sandwich, and carried me to the room that had the television, and put me on his lap for the rest of the television episode. At the end of the episode, he picked me up, turned off the TV, and turned around. And my dad declared, “That was a great series.” And my mom said, “The best.” And my sister asked, “How long was it on the air?” And my brother replied, “Nine years, stupid.” And my sister responded, “You ... stupid.” And my dad said, “Stop it, right now.” And my mom said, “Listen to your father.” And my brother said nothing. And my sister said nothing. And years later I found out my brother was wrong. 13 I went to the library to look up the figures, and I found out that the episode we watched is the highest watched anything of television history, which I find amazing because it felt like just the five of us. You know ... a lot of kids at school hate their parents. Some of them got hit. And some of them got caught in the middle of wrong lives. Some of them were trophies for their parents to show the neighbors like ribbons or gold stars. And some of them just wanted to drink in peace. For me personally, as much as I don’t understand my mom and dad and as much as I feel sorry for both of them sometimes, I can’t help but love them very much. My mom drives to visit the cemetery of people she loves. My dad cried during More”inA”inSo”inHave, and trusted me to keep his secret, and let me sit on his lap, and called me “champ.” Incidentally, I only have one cavity, and as much as my dentist asks me to, I just can’t bring myself to floss. Love always, Charlie

(CHBOSKY, Stephen. The Perks of Being a Wallflower (1999). MTV Books, 2010.)

[charke105]

on tumblr again for the first time in a while. i’m slightly high and this is a lot of stream of consciousness, so you can stop reading here and just expect me to start posting here again.

i’ve been having a harder time than usual lately. the last week of september, i went on a vacation to china with some work friends and friends of friends. i was nervous beforehand not only because it was the first time i’d be taking an actual vacation (not a staycation or family visit back to nc) since i moved to madison and started at the company three years ago, but also because i was traveling with (1) some strangers and (2) white people to a place that is extremely personal and complicated for me. long story short, it was a really really really fun trip. i love the folks i traveled with, despite none of them using the correct pronouns and most of them being problematic in ways i would not have had the patience for in college. i’ve learned to love and care for people who i know don’t love and care for people like me in the way i need them to, but who i also trust to love and care about me as an individual. it’s hard. really fucking hard. i know that the past three years of my life have grown me as a person in some ways while also destroying parts of me that made me both sharper and softer than i am now. i still find joy in other peoples’ joy and love seeing people having a good time when it’s not at the expense of others. i still love being outside at night and listening to the world turn. i still love sunshine and good books and trying to help the people i love feel supported and beautiful and strong because they are. i still love thrifting and meditating and working out and tattoos and humanity. but i also do more drugs, spend more money without thinking, and have a much larger capacity for bullshit than ever before. and i hate those things. i’m more anxious when sober, have this strong underlying feeling of desperation that infects all that i say and do, and constantly feel like i’m on the verge of something. i don’t know if that something is good or bad, but considering how casually i think about dying it’s probably the latter. i started journalling again when i got back from china and the gist of what i’ve learned is that i have a lot of self hatred that i never even knew existed. i like a midwestern white guy who i know has an asian fetish. i’m staying at a job and in a city that destroys my soul. i’m trying to fill myself with anything to avoid falling back into the apathy of the past few years, but i’m not sure if apathy might actually be better. ghost or robot. i still think about that a lot. i don’t want to be either, but it’s like i’ll never be able to get away from feeling like both. i smile and laugh a lot more freely these days, but anyone who really knows me knows that most of the time it’s because the only other option would be to cry. maybe the best thing about the trip to china wasn’t meeting and hanging out with wonderful kind people but remembering what it is to actually feel. i’ve cried more freely since being back than i had since my first summer at the company when i finally hardened myself enough to stop feeling the pain and accepting that this is my life now. 

i put in my notice two weeks ago. my lease ends in april. the company is taking me off the project i hate most, so i said i’d try it out but make no promises. i plan on staying to the end of the calendar year and re-evaluating at that point. i’m applying to grad schools. i’m terrified that i won’t get in. or that i will and that i’ll go and realize i’m still unsatisfied and unhappy and that maybe it’s something in me that’s wrong. i burn bridges so easily - even more easily now than in college, i think. and so often it’s not because i don’t care for the people on the other side anymore, but because i’m selfish and often feel like i don’t even have enough love to keep myself alive let alone anything to give to anyone else in the world. going to china and then putting in my notice were the first really good things i’d done for myself in a really long time. if i stay past the end of this year, i’ll know how much i really hate myself. i’m terrified of looking for another job and of not having financial security and of not having community. i might not have a community in the way that i want in madison or at epic, but at least i have people who will feed me when i’m sad, get high with me when i need to get away (literally every waking minute of everyday for the past 2+ weeks), let me sleep over when i’m a hot mess, go to concerts on whims with me, and try to convince me that i’m not generally just a leech and waste of space. 

i’m trying to do things differently. i’m trying to love myself. i’m trying to care about whether i live past the given second. i’m trying to choose joy. i’m trying. i’m trying. i’m trying to be comfortable being alone. i mean, i’ve been fine for years alone. 

i’m remembering this year that fall was always my favorite time of year growing up. the leaves changing color and falling in the south. the cold air coming out of swim practice with my hair wet. school starting. my birthday. my mom’s birthday. halloween. thanksgiving. weekends biking with my parents. sunday morning nature trail and greenway walks/runs. chinese school. knitting season. boots and jackets and scarves. i loved this time of year.  

when i was younger, not even like a kid but like also into college, i thought i would be married by the time i was 25. i wanted kids. several of them. i wanted love and joy and to be able to wrap my kids in warmth and safety and love so they never knew what a broken place the world can be. i wanted two boys and a girl. i wanted to name them white christian names. i wanted so many normal middle class things. now even the thought of life partnership is scary, not because of the commitment to another human, but because i don’t want to subject anyone to my own brokenness. i know we all carry our own baggage and our own hurt and pain and i want to be able to help alleviate those things for other people, but i can’t help but feel that i would just be baggage myself. i remember when caitlin used to call me her “at least” person. like, i could always find something in every circumstance that would make it at least a little better. but. it’s been years since i could call myself an optimist or even just a happy person. i don’t know how to go back or even if i want to. i don’t want kids anymore because the world is more broken than ever and i can’t in good conscience bring pure souls into this world to be broken. i can’t do it. if i live long enough and get my shit together i want to foster and adopt. i won’t bring more children into the world, but i do want to protect the ones who are already here. 

sometimes i wish i had died before. not like a conscious wish, but just a thought in passing. like, what if my mom had had an abortion like my dad wanted? what if no one had been home when i fell out of a high chair and cracked my skull as a baby? what if i had been hit by a car when i ran into traffic as a toddler at disneyland? honestly i think about walking into traffic a lot in passing these days. but i wouldn’t want the folks in the cars to be hurt or to have to pay fines or go to trial or any of that shit. it just seems like a simple enough way to go without much thought. i wonder if in other universes there are versions of me who have died already and every almost death i live here hurts because a shard of our shared soul dies with them. 

but then i think of all the near-ish death experiences i know of that people i love have lived through. how different my life would be if i lost them forever. how to live without their smile or laugh or the potential for more. i miss my grandmother a lot these days even though i only saw her every other summer or so growing up. i miss the memories we could have had, had i grown up in china with her. i miss the memories we could have had, had i not been as much of a brat as a child. i miss playing cards and eating spicy peanuts and purple veggies with congee with her. i miss how she would always compare me to a cat. i think she was the first. i miss how slow walks around the complex and taking turns with my family supporting her when she stopped being able to breathe and walk alone. i miss watching trash chinese dramas with her. i miss sunday morning phone calls when my grandfather would forget i existed and only ask about my brother, but she never forgot me. i miss how supportive she was of everything i did. how she always believed in me, even when i set impossible goals. i miss her like i miss the china i never got to know growing up in north carolina. how much history, how much love, how much knowledge, how much experience died with her. it’s been a year now and i feel like i’m finally grieving. i honestly didn’t even know i loved her until she was gone.

my grandma didn’t want me to be a doctor like my parents did. she wanted me to be whatever i wanted to be as long as it was safe and i was happy. i wonder what she would think of me now. the face i put on for my parents is one that she could always see through. my parents like to call me happy girl. they’ve done it since i was small, like if they said it enough they could speak it into existence. they think that because i smile and laugh and sing and dance when i’m home then i must be happy. it’s easier to be a child around them again, but it’s not real and sometimes i wish they knew it. but as they’re getting older i want them to be happy. they’ve had such hard lives and i just want their last decades to be happy and peaceful and without conflict and without resentment and without worry. sometimes i think about the little they’ve been willing to share with me about their own childhoods growing up during the Cultural Revolution. they’ve always been adamant that i not compare my own circumstances to theirs. we grew up in different times and different places and with different values and different challenges. they did everything they could to make sure that my brother and i never ran the risk of living the hardest parts of their lives. sometimes i think it’s made me weak. they’ve passed down the ability to appreciate little insignificant things, but they haven’t passed down the ability to endure. 

i think a lot about how this is where my life is right now. i’m 25 and i thought i would be married by now but i’m just liking a guy for the first time in years and even if he feels right i can’t forget that he hits so many dealbreakers for me. i’m 25 and i thought i would be a social worker but instead i’m working in corporate america without the ability to directly intervene in the lives of the most vulnerable populations i want to work with. i’m 25 and i thought i would have my shit together at this point but i’m dropping hundreds on feeling alive but not too alive. i only have 25 more years, if that, to finish a bucket list i haven’t even finished creating. 

my horoscope this week reminded me that i’m dying everyday. honestly it was exactly what i needed to read. not only am i dying everyday, i could actually die any day. i think it’s time to get my life in order. the night before i put in my notice, i made a list of people who i would want to know i loved them at some point in my life and still care deeply about them even if we are no longer in any sort of communication. it’s a list of people who have helped me stay alive and who’ve brought me joy in knowing. i made it so that if i died, there’d be a list somewhere of people who i wanted to receive my life insurance. and that’s the actual moment when i realized i needed to quit.

if i am still here at this time next year, i don’t think i will live much longer after. i need to get out and it needs to be soon. at some point my fear of the unknown got eclipsed by my fear that i will actually kill myself. it’s a weird thing i think to have such casual thoughts of death. like in the shower last week when i wondered if it would be possible to drown myself, or if i’d pass out first and somehow come to still breathing. or when i decided to bleach my hair again this weekend and wondered if ingesting hair bleach would be painful. or when i picked up vicodin and prescription grade aleve for my upcoming surgery yesterday and wondered how my body would handle taking all of the pills at once (to be fair i was v high when that thought crossed my mind). i think about walking into an oncoming bus pretty often. idk. i wish i knew if other people had thoughts like this too.

[professional-anti]

Chapter Eight: Weapon of Choice

Heyyyyy!! Sorry, life has been cray, and it’s never gonna change, unfortunately. But guys, dw, I am dedicated. Also, weirdly, doing this has made me appreciate books even more? It’s so much fun to talk abt books, and I learn so much, even if it’s a book I hate. Okay, getting started (pray for me):

We last left off with Clary jumping thru the surprise door, like one does. Jace lands on top of her, yay, OTP moment, gag me. There’s a nice little detail where “Clary coughed hair (not her own) out of her mouth” which kind of captures the chaos and would be cute if it were an actual good ship. I hate when that happens. Jace criticizes Clary, FINALLY for a valid reason.

It turns out they’re at Luke’s house. Oh, classic, he lives in Williamsburg, the gentrified hipster paradise. Where else would a man who wears flannel live? Even more classic, he lives behind a bookstore. Clare is obviously one of those heavy-handed authors who has exactly two professions for her Intellectual Men™: bookseller and evil Giles.

I’m going to shake Clary. She doesn’t know why they’re here, despite having thought “I want to go where my mom would have gone” right before jumping. Like, bitch??? Do you have a brain? I’m cryingfff

Clary decides she wants to leave, even though there’s cleary something super sketch abt Luke. He’s so obviously protecting her, so he must know something, right? Well, Clary rubs her two brain cells together and decides, nope, nothing to see here! Time to go home!

Jace, being reasonable for once, is like, yo, maybe we should stay. They run into Simon, so you know there’s gonna be Dramaz. Jace and Simon apparently devolve into primordial wild dogs driven by the intense urge to fight for the girl dog so they can screw and produce puppies that are as annoying as they are. Here is what everyone is doing:

Clary is fixing Simon’s hair bc she’s a Woman Simon is pushing Clary’s hand away bc he’s Annoyed Jace is using his stele to file his nail bc he’s Not Paying Attention

There’s some horrible forced tension between Simon and Clary, where he’s all, “Clary, you ran away from me, I thought I and my dick upset you,” and Clary’s all, “Never, Simon, I love you,” and Simon cums. Not actually, instead he slut shames Clary:

“Yeah, well, you clearly also couldn’t be bothered to call me and tell me you were shacking up with some dyed-blond wanna-be goth you probably met at Pandemomonium”

On the one hand, draaaaag him, Simon!! Jace IS a peroxide blond who listens Evanescence (I almost wrote MCR before googling it and learning that if I wrote that, about a million punks would stream into my inbox in tears).

Simon’s eyes are “dark with suspicion”. which is just annoying. Yes, I would be so fucking annoyed if my friend ran out on me and then disappeared and then reappeared with a blond guy. But I’d also do some more questioning of the situation. Is she okay? Why is she with such a rude guy? Is he hurting her? Was she kidnapped? Is she being held against her will? Is this a drug thing? Does she need my help? Why did Luke cover for her? Is something deeper going on? Instead Simon is all possessive Nice Guy.

Apparently Simon spied on Luke packing a duffel bag of weapons. So he couldn’t give Clary any benefit of the doubt? It sounds like her family is caught in a bad situation! Maybe she had to hide for her life! Simon, use your brain!!

kajlkfaklsdjfalksdflk Clary tells Simon everything, and Simon asks if they kill all these different magical creatures, and Jace says ONLY WHEN THEY’VE BEEN NAUGHTY a;dlfjals;kdjfl;asdjfl;aksdjf hahahahahahahah This image that Clare is going for is just sooooo overdrawn. This dialogue, omfg.

Simon loses his mind and excitedly compares everything that’s been going on to D&D. Let’s totally forget abt the fact that Clary’s mom is missing, or that Luke just filled a duffel bags with murder sticks, shall we?

Jace and Simon have a bizarre conversation, and then they walk. In. The. Back. Door. Bc Luke doesn’t lock his back door. Bc that’s totally not something that someone who fills a duffel bag with weapons would do. At least the door to the bookstore is locked, though Jace opens it pretty easily with his stele. Why didn’t Luke have Jocelyn fix up some wards or something?

Simon asks Clary how she stands Jace, and she’s like “he saved me life” and he’s like “huh?” even though she told him everything that happened. Why is Simon so dumb. I guess all his blood is in his dick? Wouldn’t surprise me.

They find manacles in the wall, so either Luke and Jocelyn have (even more) hidden depths, or Luke practices

Luke’s apartment is filled with books. Of course. Look, I love books. I have about 500 in my room at this moment. I buy them constantly, I get from the libarary, I read and read and read. I think most of us on booklr do. But when every single Good Character in your book has books, it’s boring. And no one has unique book taste. What if all of Luke’s books were nature books? Jack London? Travel guides? That would paint a picture. Instead he has a bunch of fantasy and other fiction. That’s boring. I learn nothing, bc every goddamn person in this goddamn book reads fantasy. It’s so fucking generic. I totally approve of “good” characters admiring and liking reading bc that’s how you get ideas, and that’s how Lemony Snicket rolls, but there are more books than fantasy and mystery (the other main type that Lucas has) in the world. Justice Strauss has an inexhaustive library. Uncle Monty has all those books about snakes. Lucky Smells just has that one history of Lucky Smells. Already, you know so much abt each person (and place) by what books they have. We learn nothing about Luke.

Clary finds the overnight bag she leaves at Luke’s and changes clothes. I mention this only bc she puts on “a blue tank top with a design of Chinese characters across the front” bc of COURSE she is That Bitch. I hope it translates to something like “Radishes” or “Bridge”.

Luke’s bedroom has a shelf of “Indian statues and Russian icons” which, idk, makes me a little uncomfortable. These sound like things that are holy to someone. But I think the worst part is that Clary says, “Luke collects stuff. Art objects. You know … Pretty things.” I just googled it, and Hindu statues, like the one Luke has of Kali, are seen as actual avatars of gods. Clary is diminishing someone’s god to a “pretty thing”. It’s not a nick-nack or a trinket. (If you know more abt this, like if I’m wildly off-base, feel free to send me an ask!)

Jace finds the Metaphor known as a smashed picture of Luke, Jocie, and Clary, which Clary threw at the Ravener in her apartment, so realize that Luke went back through the apartment. Jace says that Luke must have gone through the Portal-potty last, so it brought them here. I’m still team Clary Asked to Go Where Her Mother Would Have Gone and Therefore the Portal did What it Was Supposed to Do and Brought Her Where She Wanted.

Luke and some warlocks show up, so Clary and co. hide behind the super convenient silk screen. Jace uses his sonic stele to make the screen transparent and we get this gem:

Jace shook his head at them both, mouthing words: They can’t see us through it, but we can see them.

Bc mouthing works that well. You don’t mouth compound sentences!! You mouth something simple like they can’t see us. Simon and Clary already know they can see Luke and the warlocks bc they’re looking at them right now! And this spell or whatever that Jace did takes the tension in the scene waaaaaay down. If they can’t see Luke, then everything becomes more tense. Are the voices getting closer to the screen? Is somebody about to reveal them? Instead, all the tension is drained in a dumb quick-fix.

Bc Clare thinks we’re stupid, she adds “It was frightening even though [Clary] knew [Luke] couldn’t see her, that the window Jace had made was like the glass in a police station interrogation room: strictly one-way.”

GD ARE YOU THERE??????? STOP THIS.

Jace realizes that the warlocks are actually Shadowhunters dressed as warlocks. Idk how he can tell, but whatever. He conveys this by whispering, so I don’t know what the mouthing nonsense was earlier.

The Shadowhunters are named Blackwell (redhead) and Pangborn (gray mustache). What sorts of names. It’s like Clare used a fantasy-name-generator. Who are we kidding, that’s totally what she did. Pangborn picks up the Kali statue and this conversation happens:

“Ah,” said Pangborn, taking the statue from his companion. “She who was created to battle a demon who could not be killed by any god or man. ‘Oh, Kali, my mother full of bliss! Enchantress of the almighty Shiva, in they delirious joy thou dancest, clapping thy hands together. Thou art the Mover of all that moves, and we are but thy helpless toys.’” “Very nice,” said Luke. “I didn’t know you were a student of the Indian myths.” “All the stories are true,” said Pangborn, and Clary felt a small shiver go up her spine. “Or have you forgotten even that?” “I forget nothing,” said Luke.

So the Shadowhunter mythology is that all religions are true? Inch resting. I vaguely remember this. Idk how I feel about this. The Shadowhunters are still gonna be super Christian no matter what lip-service Clare pays to other religions. She has angels! And demons! She’s trying to be inclusive, but it’s never really gonna work, bc she’s doing it in name only. But at the same time, I wouldn’t want her to mess with any religion but Christianity or, sigh, Judaism. Christianity bc it’s the dominant religion and can’t be marginalized (different denominations can be, but not Christianity as a whole) and Judaism bc she’s Jewish. There’s not very much Jewish in these books, though. Yeah, there are angels in Judaism, but it’s not really the Jewish Vibe. A book influenced by Judaism would have a lot of magic based on specific wording, and arguments, and Hebrew and Hebrew-derived languages. This book uses Latin and is into angels. It’s Christian-influenced, which is fine, I guess, but the lip-service to other religions doesn’t ring true. But also, saying “Christianity is the one religion!” is super upsetting and she shouldn’t do that. I don’t really know where I’m going with this, I’m literally thinking on the page. Do you guys have any thoughts on this? Please hit up my ask box or talk about this in the notes! This discussion really interests me, and I want to get diverse opinions.

Luke asks if Valentine sent them (he did) and if their clothes “are official Accord robes” “from the Uprising?” (they are). Wow. The Uprising. What a descriptive name! We don’t call things “the Uprising” in real life. It’s more like, “The French Revolution.” “The Cultural Revolution.” “The Revolutionary War.” “The Civil War.” Am I being unfair?” I guess someone right after one of the French Revolutions might just say “the Revolution.” But something about The Uprising is so boring. And aren’t there more than one Uprising? There should be. The Warlock Uprising. The Vampire Uprising. It doesn’t have to be all internal. Any organized group would rise against the Clave. The Clave is legit the worst.

It turns out Luke’s real name is Lucian AND. I. AM. DYING. Luke is Lucius Malfoy, confirmed!! Let’s do a list of what we know so far:

Clary: Ginny Jace: Draco Jocelyn: I’m getting Bellatrix vibes? Bc of the whole in-love-with Voldemort thing? Valentine: I don’t know?? I can’t think of who he could be??? We’ll have to leave this blank for now I guess :/ Hodge: Giles. Not a HP character, but this is a crossover event with Buffy. Isabelle: Pansy Parkinson Alec: I actually don’t know here. He’s the GBF. Simon: Does Harry make sense? They’re both boring nice guys (don’t @ me!)

This game is getting boring, let’s move on. Luke apparently used to fight with B and P, so we know he’s a Shadowhunter (or, if you’ve read this book before, you know he used to be one). Then he tells them he doesn’t know where the Mortal Cup is (they think Jocelyn hid it).

CLARY IS SO FUCKING DUMB OMFG. P and B talk about how Jocelyn hasn’t regained consciousness and Valentine wants to see her again (using her name) and Clary goes:

Jocelyn? Can they be talking about my mother?

NO THE OTHER FUCKING JOCELYN. CLARY HOW RU STILL ALIVE.

CC must think her readers are really dumb and can’t figure anything out on their own:

“I’ve never felt any way about [Jocelyn], particularly,” said Luke. “Two Shadowhunters, exiled from their own kind, you can see why we might have banded together. But I’m not going to try to interfere with Valentine’s plans for her, if that’s what he’s worried about.”

He might as well have said, “Jocelyn and I were both exiled. EXILED. We were exiled. We were exiled as fuck. Do you get it? Reading context clues is hard, so I’m saying WE WERE EXILED.” The quasi-warlocks should have responded like, “Yeah? We know you both were exiled? We were there?”

Blackwell refers to Jocelyn as “that bitch” bc institutionalized mysoginy is the absolute best! I love when vicious sexism is included for no reason! Bc also these guys aren’t any worse than Luke! Bc may I remind you that Luke was basically a supremacist! Just like them!

For some reason, these idiots believe Lucius when he tells them that he’s not close with Jocie. Then please explain why you both live in Brooklyn.

P and B threaten to make Luke stay in the city, and Luke threatens them, and somehow they let this happen? In other news, Clary is still dumb as rocks. She’s super hurt that Luke said that he doesn’t care about Jocie bc she has about 0 critical thinking skills. We’re talking none. She could have someone whispering the answers in her ear and still bomb the SAT.

Jace thinks that P and B think Luke “knows more than he’s telling” so why would they let him go???? Then Jace reveals that P and B murdered his dad, and this chapter is OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Someone bring me a Bloody Mary. It’s how I feel inside.

[paraclete0407]

Morning Notes

1.

I remember benefiting for years from the articles on DesiringGod.org and John Piper’s YouTube content but I walked away in 2014 after his response to the MV Sewol sinking was to post, ‘It Is Well with My Soul,’ as though to say, ‘Hey Christians even have songs for drowned kids.’  He wrote a beautiful and intense poem called ‘The Children’ that talks about abortion, war, abusive parents, but I just went, ‘This is “Football Christianity” and racist.’  In retrospect there are all kinds of flaws in all kinds of Christians and all kinds of gestures and jokes that they use in their communications to relate to their audience.  John MacArthur made this joke about Fresca that made me wonder whether Fresca has some sacred ‘angel-chemical.’

I feel really alienated and more Millennial than ever lately.  Stupidly in retrospect I decided that the proper response to the MV Sewol posting was to walk away from DesiringGod and even now I’ve come to have a hair-trigger rebellious rage-reaction to John Piper postings even while believing ‘Coronavirus and Christ’ 100%.  

‘You said it’s good to eat dinner with your mom and dad but you also wrote that BIll Cosby’s a great guy just b/c he worked long hours and said “personal responsibility.”

I realize now that the first ‘Christian novel’ I ever tried to write was ‘Flowers on Water’ which was about the Sewol, edubusiness, Korea, America, teenage girls and college-aged young women, our relationships to the past generation, and the ways in which people my age tried to shelter or weather when we seemed to lack either economic franchise or the ‘voice’ through which the communicate to other groups the essence of Millennial identity.  

I don’t want to talk about Millennial identity b/c I’m literally hoping to find out my ‘everlasting name’ in the next few days but there was something about us; we might have been disappointments to our parents yet thus far the coming post-constitutional-democracy military dictatorship hasn’t smashed our skulls en masse against the rocks - ‘happy we’ - even while Xi Jinping suddenly switched from talking about how PRC doesn’t want to take over the world (which I believe they can and which Mao their c/Creator said again and again he desired to), to talking about ‘heads bashed bloody.’

I don’t like weaving like this but when I was at Rutgers in 2004 I wrote a love-letter of sorts to a Shanghainese girl who years later I frankly saw on FB doing all these bed-pics then I went to the library, remembered the color of the light in the windows of the houses in her Central Jersey hometown near the vast Chernobyl-sarcophagus-looking Rutgers basketball stadium and I went to H-Mart in Illinois wondering, ‘Where’s Tiffany __ today?  I bet she’s Xi Jinping’s government-issued mistress.’

Today Christianity worldwide I observed was torn between apologetics and prophecy and Timothy Keller of Redeemer Presbyterian NYC wrote ‘Hope in Times of Fear’ and is a fantastic reader of Foucault, numerous other authors, and one of the most intellectually responsible Christians who does’t say stuff like, ‘Christians aren’t obligated to be interested in justice in this world b/c the Atonement already satisfied justice’ which is un-biblical.  Time was my favorite Keller sermon was about love (romantic love, ‘erotic violence honor-cult affection night and lady mentality’), and my favorite book of his was ‘Counterfeit Gods’ about the Second Commandment proscribing idolatry, and which throughout the years has made me wonder in my own life what’s an idol and what is a tool or coping-mechanism but if I’m being honest something happened around 2014-2015 that made me feel as if I had learned enough about the basics of Christianity and didn’t need to follow any father-figures or teachers anymore.  Felt I could learn more from ‘considering the beauty of the lilies’ in the form of a camcorder girl-group travel-show called ‘f(x) Koala’ my favorite reality-show.  They walked down the Champs Elysee and in those days Sulli / Choi Jinri reminded me of something or someone from my past but I didn’t realize then the beauty on their love and friendship was arguably not only synthetic and temporary but destined to be violently revoked by someone who decided that they suddenly wanted something else.

I remember reading Allan Bloom’s ‘Love and Friendship’ which was his swan-song in the hospital after the more famous ‘Closing of the American Mind,’ both of which are indictments of culture as well as theories of education via literary criticism and close-reading of one’s students.  Bloom said that an occupational hazard of teachers is hanging out with kids all the time and it is not that this ‘infantilizes’ them - though parents also get infantilized by their kids - but the more severe criticism is that the teacher develops ‘mental Grecianness’ or thinks of themselves as God or else of their students as God.  Or, they think there is no God and everything is just a ‘classic garden’ in which kids grow up and, to call out myself as well, the teacher maintains his or her nobility and religious simplicity of character vis-a-vis life whilst believing in the soul besides and beyond heart, mind, body, but not connecting their conception of the soul to a Creator or a will or plan or design or desire on the part of this Creator for that soul and its existence in Time in this world.  

Anyway I have never planned my novels out as much as I like to think and I got lost in the Millennial ‘authoritative paragraph’ fetish-trap where for a moment I stopped being the problem-child and became older than my parents as regards and eagle-eyed ‘critical appreciation’ of reality and certainty of convictions.  My writer friend Miles Klee used to say years ago, of American ochlocracy I guess and our corybantic national non-conversation or fake conversation, ‘Where’s the school principal to lay down the law?’  

I for years wanted to be this principal and think now about a girl I went to high school with whose essay I criticized really aggressively but who went on to Harvard GSE and became Ass’t Principal at like 27.  I for years was interested in University of Oregon, Vanderbilt, and later came to feel that the best schools for PhiEd are probably a) Korean b) Christian.  I admire Sunkyunkwan(sp?) University for being like 900 years old and Bethlehem College and Seminary in Twin Cities.  Today the best teacher training institutes I think are almost certainly in East Asia somewhere as these people made a generations long mathematically emplaced-in-history ultra-sacrificial starve-for-nuclear-weapons commitment to protecting their children.  I’m not sure how to describe it in my pure style but it is like the scene in ‘Letters from Iwo Jima’ where Lt. Gen. Kuribayashi is growling about how he is going to maim and traumatize US Marines and break their moms’ hearts for as long as possible b/c he knows at the bottom of his soul’ (as Tolstoy would say), that those American moms probably believed the Japanese kids were ‘n----- boys’ and ‘life unworthy of life.’  I was also interested in how one of the best novels of the moment James Salter’s ‘All That Is’ took the destruction of the ‘Superbattleship’ Yamato to be more meaningful than the A-bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  The Japanse sailors covered in oil, singing in the sea, till the munitions-magazine in the battleship with ‘shells the size of coffins’ explodes and, although it’s traditional high explosives of some sort and not nuclear warheads, it sends a ‘biblical pillar’ of fire something like a mile in to the sky and the flash of the combustion is visible from Kyushu.

I have no idea what Teachers College, Harvard et al. train their educators to be like except apparently psycholinguistics turned out to be important but I still want to write them off as training kids to be mentally hypercapitalist Chinese these days; and an atheistic philosophy-only with the love skimmed off version of corporatist football Christians.  

I’m not against Protestantism at all but still remember reading in National Review of a book called ‘Evangelical Catholicism’ which used the phrase, ‘failure of Protestantism as a global force.’  Not to be glib and Philip Roth-y and I hate that I’m not writing in my pure style right now but, did Protestants cause Covid?  I think they were burying non-white kids’ bodies in the school yard, beating orphan juvenile delinquents to death.  I for years reflected on a Mormon practice of banishing teen boys at 14-15 (their brain would not be developed adequately to unction as a high-powered fully adjusted adult till about 27), to hoard the teen girls for the older men, which is something that could turn many hearts and minds from Christianity straight to Foucault.  

Anyway the ‘crux’ or Joycean ‘epiphany’ moment of ‘Flowers on Water’ was where the protagonist let his live-in-girlfriend (Millennial) go out with her friend for the night and was drowsing over Wikipedia and Google books reading about education and happens upon a poem called ‘Flowers’ from a Christian California Teacher’s Almanac from 1881, in which the teacher was talking about life and death and it amounts in a verse form to the best commencement-address imaginable, because it is saying to these young people, ‘Heaven and Earth, life and death, “fragrance from life to life,” rather than talking about their CV’s or social activism or anything like try windsurfing or public service (Biden) or don’t do everything you can just b/c you can (Merkel). 

The protagonist thinks, ‘God is sovereign in all things.’  Saves the poem as ‘Flowers 1881′ on his PC which later breaks Hong Sang Soo style; and also thinks a bit about the fact that this almanac discusses teaching-problems w/r/t assessment that appears to be identical to those 135 years later in America.  (I see now, however, that many of these American Indian or Mexican students who might’ve been reading naive and sentimental poems, Alcott, Stowe, Psalms, stories about virtuous Old Testament women with their teachers in 1881 today would be mentally human-trafficked by movies, Marxism, and MS-13). 

But I still didn’t know how to end the novel at all.  The protagonist wanted to go to Lake Baikal with his girlfriend and Arkangelsk (Archangel City in Irkutsk Russian Federation).  I was obsessed with Krystal Jung in those days due to her singular ‘Persian’ eyes, bump-nose, et cetera.  I sort of abandoned ‘Flowers on Water’ b/c in autumn ‘14 they made ‘Naegeon neomu sarangseuroun keunyeo’ which has translated in various ways and when I was watching this I stopped thinking about sovereignty and started thinking about ownership itself.  ‘Somebody’s Daughter’ and ‘She Is Mine.’  

I remember thinking, ‘The musical direction for My Lovely Girl Episode One would be “maestoso morendo.”’  Everyone is traumatized; the jokes are unfunny; Krystal and Rain lost sleep, gained weight, as if their accustomed process of living had failed.  

However, the best moment in MLG to me is the final episode in which the male protagonist has given up writing ‘candy-pop’ to compose a dreamy music-vision of something like seeing someone’s face in the sky.  Sena realizes Soeun (two of the most beautiful names imaginable) is probably alive on the other side of death in this world.  IDK if I ought to add this but I kept getting mad at American-Koreans with their kneejerk opposition to adoption and want to cite a ‘banned’ book Elizabeth Kim’s ‘10,000 Sorrows’ about racial honor-killing and orphan-hate but I gave that up since I believed that making humane orphanages with loving faculty / parents would be a better solution to the consumer model of adoption.  However, I have never had the opportunity to study the psychology of orphans and only know that women tend to burn out quickly in care-roles at such places.

The thing about the Sewol Ferry and apologetics in the Covid era is that all this unfair stuff happened and the dead are bound away and Christianity makes people feel really good with its incredibly beautiful heritage and super-massive stockpile of wisdom and lessons - kind of ‘common grace’ - but to say Christianity is interested in better happier kids, a fairer system, a more beautiful existence for humans in this world isn’t really Jesus Christ but Barack Obama, who in retrospect was clearly defending the entitlements of the already extremely powerful whilst p-zzing America’s E. Asia policy.  But I don’t really know if I am right or wrong about these things politically; I just felt as if Obama was only ever saying good things about anyone while leaving hundreds of millions of children behind worldwide and worshipping China and failing to understand Korea’s concept of the teacher which is why Race to the Top didn’t satisfy either.  

I’ve sometimes felt - ‘if I were God’ - that I would induce people through ‘whisper in the heart’ to vote against HRC in 2016 because of a) abortion and ACB and b) Obama thinking that making a lie of the Syria ‘red line’ policy was sth he had any moral right to do.  I actually know a bit about clandestine American ops in Syria but last I checked they didn’t launch an AGM at Assad’s bedroom and I actually think that’s a mistake b/c he has directly ordered mass-murder, child-rape, much else and it’s a clear case of ‘first degree murder conviction in absentia para-judicial execution or capital punishment’ it’s not even war; it’s arbitration.  So many Democrats think war is just sad but lawful ‘beareth not the sword in vain’ capital punishment is diabolically evil.  It also feeds in to my ‘nuke Babylon Milwaukee’ theory of present history where everyone is lying about everything and have decided that America’s letter-of-the-law institutions were so bad that it’s better to go back to gangsterism.

Then I’m taken to ask for being darkhearted...  

The only reason not to is the whole world today’s the Roman Empire and there is some terrible ‘legitimate mandate’ by which Christians and Christian rulers have to respect other rulers no matter what.  Constantine spread ‘the ancient faith’ throughout the world; OTOH Nero killed a lot of poor people with mass-arson and it struck me just now many of those people probably a) loved Nero for going to outer space while he killed them using assets their labor had generated and b) didn’t die from burning but from deoxygenation.  But the whole crux of Christianity is the Resurrection and Eternity and I am mad at myself because I can’t even concentrate on my ‘little stories.’  I promised ‘sis’ I’d quit K-pop but then everything else fell apart and I wish I could go back to listening to IZ*ONE’s ‘Open Your Eyes’