#characters: laurel park

[hmsharmony]

Give me all your thoughts about tsitp!!!!!

ALL OF THEM??? That's a lot of thoughts, seek!!! With very little guidance!! So here, please have a bunch of thoughts with zero segues between them.

Though some caveats before I dive in: 1) I have not rewatched S1 since it aired so my memories are FUZZY; and 2) I read the first book (and only the first book) back in 2015 and started the show knowing I preferred Jeremiah to Conrad.

WITH THAT SAID.

First, I want to wax poetic again about the "Delicate" scene, despite having already screamed about it in the tags of multiple reblogs. But it was just!! so!!! good!!! Altered my brain chemistry, cleared my skin, watered my crops etc. The timing is just SO!!!! "I pretend you're mine all the damn time" as they're holding each other and staring??? Belly breaking the stare and slipping underwater and swimming away as "'Cause I like you" fades into "is it cool that I said all that?" because she's not sure what to do, especially after the golf course? The camera switching to Jeremiah staring uncertainly after her during "is it chill that you're in my head?" only for him to go after her?? The instrumental break as they talk, and then "isn't it isn't it isn't it" playing as their hands reach for and grab each other? I AM LOSING MY GODDAMNED MIND THE ACTUAL FUCK.

Okay, now that I've screamed about that again, moving on:

I think our feelings are aligned re Conrad. The moody, bad communicator, maladjusted boy is not for me. Even when I was a teenager, Conrad-like male characters generally weren't my favorite (obvs that's not a hard and fast rule--if you look back at what I was shipping as a teen, there are moody boys there, although I'd argue those moody boys developed into much less moody, healthier characters). So I don't think it's a surprise that I do not enjoy Conrad. I'm open to changing my mind, but I'm also not invested in his growth. 🤷 To the extent I am invested, it's vis-à-vis Jeremiah, not Belly. Part of that undeniably is because Jeremiah is my fave, but a larger part is because narratively Jeremiah should be his most important relationship. I hope the show surprises me, but I'm also not holding my breath. Also, also! Going back to the most recent ep, where Conrad insists that he went home whenever he could to help with their mom: it's hard to buy that when the only time we see him come home was when he wanted to guilt Jeremiah into blessing his relationship with Belly. Of course, that's Jeremiah's POV, and maybe he's an unreliable narrator (in this case, only showing us that one time Conrad came home when there were many others). But so far the only evidence we have that Conrad made an effort with their mom is Conrad's assertion that he was there, and I'm not buying it.

Next, Belly. I'm gonna be honest: there is very little in this world that will get me to defend or love a character more than making them a teenaged girl. There is only one teenage girl in the history of media that I can recall actively disliking, and the rest I would probably kill for. Society hates and looks down on them, writers often fuck up their writing and create a narrative that unfairly blames them, and thus I grant them a lot of leeway. I absolutely have a double standard--if a teenaged girl does something questionable, I generally am much more willing to forgive than if it was any other character. So even though she's acted fairly selfishly this season, I have a lot of love in my heart for Belly and, unlike with Conrad, I am interested in seeing her hopefully grow and recognize that this should not be about her. Susannah was important to her. That house is important to her. But at the end of the day, she didn't lose her mother, and that house was never hers. Her feelings should come second to Jeremiah's and Conrad's, and right now that's not happening. None of this is surprising for a teenager, but I need the narrative to call this behavior out, and it's not. I also really, really, really need her to recognize that her relationship with Conrad was not healthy, and that it will not be healthy unless and until they both (but especially Conrad) work on themselves. Finally, and I touched on this with my villain origin story ask, it's frustrating that Belly is getting pieces of information about why Jeremiah has had his walls up, but not recognizing it as that. I can buy her being confused about Jeremiah on the golf course because Conrad told her he moved on. But then for Jeremiah to reveal, hey, Conrad actually came to me and made me give him my blessing, and for Belly's only reaction to be, "Conrad cared so much that he went to Jeremiah!!!" and not "wow this does not align with what Conrad told me when I was worried about Jeremiah" is kdslfjdksljf. Will the show circle back and have Belly question this? Maybe, but again, based on how they've framed it so far, I doubt it.

Jeremiah is easily my fave, and has been from the start. Characters that act happy-go-lucky, like they can't be relied upon, like all they care about is having fun, while actually being the one person who will always be there for the people they love? Characters hiding grief behind beaming smiles? Characters with heavy responsibilities placed on them too soon??? THEN MAKE THEM ONE HALF OF A BEST FRIENDSHIP TURNED MORE SHIP??? 100% my kryptonite, I was a goner before I picked up the book 9 years ago. Just, god. This 17-year-old boy having to deal with 1) his mother has cancer; 2) his brother KNEW his mother had cancer and never told him; and 3) the girl he thinks he has something with (I can't remember where his relationship with Belly stood at the end of S1 oops so hopefully this is accurate) kissed his brother and now she wants to pursue a relationship with that brother?? All of it at once?? And what he chooses to do is take care of his mom, figuring out smoothie recipes to keep her healthy, putting on a beaming face for her so she won't worry, hanging out with her in his senior year of high school when the only thing he should be worried about is applying for college (which, and I think you've touched on this--has he???)? Get the fuck out, this boy deserves the world and all he gets is hate.

Finally, I am Angry that Laurel has been missing for so much of this season. Outside of Jeremiah and Conrad (notwithstanding how I feel about the latter), Laurel's reaction is the most important--much more important than Belly's (sorry Belly). IDK. Again, maybe I'm biased: I've had the same best friend for 20+ years, so to see their friendship pushed aside?? To not focus on how Laurel is processing all this? Fucking criminal. (And look, I know this show's target audience is teens/early 20s. But Back In My Day teen dramas also focused on the parents to capture that 25-49 demo. And because they had 22-26 episodes to fill, and I am realizing yet again this is why the 8- to 10-episode seasons are fucking cursed.) How many times has Laurel thought of something and reached for her phone to text her best friend? How many things in her house are from Susannah, or are from a trip with Susannah, or just makes her think of Susannah? How many times has she said or done something that she picked up from Susannah, only to realize she only says that word that way because of Susannah and almost crumbling from the grief of that realization? And god, what was writing the book like? What was it like trying to distill into writing one of her most important relationships? What was it like putting Susannah out there for everyone to know, to judge? How many times did she think about not publishing because Susannah is hers, because she wasn't ready to share her best friend with the world, because any criticism of the book would feel like criticism of one of her great loves? I need to know, I want to know, and I deserve to know!!! I want to see Laurel dealing with this, and not just as it affects her relationship with Belly (which is also important!!! do not get me wrong!! but Laurel didn't stop being her own person when she became a mother). Give me the Laurel-centered episode, show! We can go without the love triangle shenanigans for 50 minutes, I promise!

So there are thoughts!

[fics-n-stuff]

I binged The Summer I Turned Pretty today and boy oh boy that show is messy and most of those kids are not good or smart people. I get it, they were going through some shit, but there's only so many mistakes I can endure before I start to not like the characters.

And I don't ship Belly and Conrad. I don't like him.

[ziracona]

I’ll probably never finish that series but ily Connor you were a real one

[marrowfrog00]

You Stir My Natural Emotions

A/N: Hi, this is a post I made a while back on my Ao3 and since I'm dragging ass on writing anything new...I thought I'd rest on my barely-there, crusty, dusty ass laurels until inspiration strikes or I put my back into actualizing my idea-rs.

CW: MDNI, Smut (characters are 18+), Mentions of Trauma, Broken Bones, Misunderstandings, Idiots in Love, Quarreling, Canon Typical Violence, Flashbacks, Descriptions of female anatomy, Oral (f receiving), P in V, Protected Sex, Adaptive Sex, Mentions of deceased grandmother, Not formatted b/c fuck that r.n., lmk if I missed anything

wc: 13.9k

Steve’s polo was pasted to his back with the sweat of high Midwestern summer. He glanced back at his Bimmer, parked behind Nancy’s station wagon, more than a little uneasy at the prospect of leaving it on the narrow shoulder of the county road. 

His destination, an unauthorized swimming hole with a somewhat rickety, decommissioned dock, didn’t have a proper parking space. Not like the well kept county-owned lakeside park on the other side of the water. That spot had designated parking but would no doubt be littered with desperate, unadventurous families trying to beat the heat. 

People unlike his friends, who frequented the busted but perfectly functional East shore of the lake. 

He bushwhacked through noxious weeds and nettles, feet seeking out the half-worn path that would take him to the meeting spot. He reached the little bluff, where he had to cut little switchbacks to make it down the hill without breaking his ankle. When he reached the last tree stand he heard the rowdy voices of his friends carry across the shallows of the lake. 

And just in time, too - the polyester and mesh of his swim trunks were chafing him under his Jordache jeans. 

He could see the backs of Robin’s and Eddie’s heads in low seat beach chairs. They were clandestinely passing a flask between them while Nancy and Jon sat on a blanket beside them, Nancy rubbing sunblock on her boyfriend’s shoulders, pausing to push her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. 

She noticed Steve’s approach, head shooting up with a bright smile. “Hey! You made it!”

Eddie, Robin and Jon’s heads shot up in reaction, each of them shooting him a half-enthused greeting.

“What took you so long, dingus?” Robin crowed, clearly half-tipsy.

Steve scoffed, pulling his polo over his head and tossing it by the cooler. 

“Well, someone called out today and I had to stay on an extra hour and a half at the store waiting for coverage,” he sniped back with no heat. Robin blew a raspberry at him.

“Strip down, Big Boy, you’re wasting daylight,” Eddie shot lazily. He stretched out on his beach chair, limbs quaking at full extension like those of a freshly-awakened cat. His chest was on full display, the white cast of badly-applied sunblock streaked across his tummy.

Steve rolled his eyes - there was nothing if not daylight to waste, the sun smiling at them all meanly from high in the sky.

 He shuffled his jeans down his legs before kicking them in Eddie’s face, who expertly dodged the attack with a guffaw.

Over on the dock, Max and El lay shoulder-to-shoulder on their stomachs, giggling over a glossy magazine while Mike and Lucas hollered off the edge, filling their super soakers from the dock’s edge. Will was buried in a sketch pad, toes dipped in the water.

Steve’s hands were planted on his hips as he did a quick headcount. A force of habit these days. He narrowed his eyes in search of the missing two. 

“Where are Dustin and Teenie?” he asked, noting suspicion in his own voice. The very two people he always had eyes on (if he could help it) were missing from this idyllic tableau. Nancy craned her neck to look toward the lake. 

“They’re in the water,” she said as if it were obvious. “They’ve been in there forever.” 

Steve felt his stomach clench uneasily but tried to school his expression into something nonplussed as he started toward the dock. 

“Why is she in the water?” he muttered to no one in particular, noting the worried pitch in his own voice. 

He saw the four heads of his nearly-adult friends turn toward him in unison as he walked past them. 

Robin chimed in then, through a hiccup “Psh, she’s fine Steven. We reinforced her.”

 Steve ignored her.

Max and El glanced up at him, muttering uninterested twin-greetings to him as he stepped gingerly between them. Will let him scooch past.

“Hey!” came your voice. “Do not shoot water in each other's mouths, this water is stagnant,” you barked. “That’s guaranteed dysentery.” 

“Sorry,” Lucas and Mike responded in unison.

Finally, yours and Dustin’s forms bobbing in the water came into view. Dustin was sputtering and rubbing his face with the hand not holding his own super soaker, clearly having been on the receiving end of Lucas and Mike’s attack. 

You were a few feet away from him, straddling a neon orange pool noodle. 

You were wearing that infernal bikini…the spring green one with ditsy white flowers and an underwire that smooshed your bust into a juicy-looking sculpture shaped by the hands of an unfair, horny god.

 Your hair was damp around your face. Even behind your red cat eye sunglasses, you appeared unimpressed until you caught sight of Steve and beamed at him. 

“Stevie!” you squealed. 

He didn’t waste another moment taking in the sight of you before he shoved off the dock and waded the short distance over to you and Dustin. 

“Hey, Steve!” he heard Dustin greet sweetly. Steve ignored it, leveling his gaze at you. 

“Teenie, what the hell are you doing in the lake?”

Your pretty smile fell at his words. You hesitated a moment before you fixed your face into a sardonic expression. 

“You’re looking at it, Stevie.”

“Your arm, Teenie! Your cast!” 

Steve didn’t notice how every head had turned toward the two of you at his little outburst. At that, you pulled your left arm out of the water, where it had been obscured. It looked like Swamp Thing, dark and soggy, water running off of it in rivulets. Steve saw that it was covered in a black rubbish bag, secured with silver duct tape (plus a derelict shoe lace) at your elbow. 

“It’s sorted, Stevie.” Steve heard conciliation in your voice. “The plaster’s bone dry underneath, ya happy?” 

No, he wasn’t happy.

Frankly, Steve didn’t care who had rigged the dry bag around the cast securing your fractured ulna. If he had, his money would have been on the braintrust that was Eddie and Robin, but who knew with this ragtag group? It wasn't as though the lot of them hadn’t crafted a bevy of improvised weapons and structures and clothing in the past.

Steve’s blood was boiling. He shouldn’t have had to tell you to stay out of the water, you should have just known.

 Yeah, lake day had been your idea, but he’d had a very different design for this day in his head when you’d proposed it.

 He thought the kids would splash around in the shallows while you and him (plus the other four sort-of grown ups) lounged at the water’s edge. 

The two of you would lather each other in sunblock (you with your good arm) and share a beer or two, and he would stare discreetly and shamelessly at your half-naked, prone body behind the safety of his Ray-Bans while some sappy love song played over the boombox and he pretended you were his and he wasn’t tap dancing around his feelings that he'd only sort of started realizing were feelings and-

“Steve,” you uttered sharply, snapping him out of his daydream.

Right. He had been busy giving you the business about reckless swimming. 

“You’re a terrible swimmer on a good day,” he scolded. “You really think you can hold your own with one arm?” he reasoned, gesturing at your form.

You pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head and glared at him, unimpressed. 

Dustin chose then to speak up, mildly. Steve almost forgot he was there. 

“We’re touching the bottom, Steve. We’re being safe, we’re touching the bottom,” he tried with a chord of desperation.

Steve looked between the two of you. A nasty little smirk on your face threatened to emerge. 

“Yeah, we’re touching the bottom.” You demonstrated your point by bouncing up and down on your toes a few times. Steve had to ignore how your boobs bounced with the motion. “And I have this, for buoyancy,” you added, smacking the end of your pool noodle into the water and sending a spray of water into Steve’s face.

Dustin cackled suddenly at Steve’s sputtering. Lucas, Mike, El and Max joined the hysterics shortly thereafter. Will hid a snicker behind his sketch pad.

 It should have broken the tension. It should have been the hard reset on the fun that Steve had almost ruined with his poop-pantsery.

“What about Dustin?” Steve tried then. He was feeling outnumbered here. And a little stupid, frankly. But righteous. Like, how the hell was he supposed to feel when he leaves the lot of you alone for one afternoon and the two (arguably) most vulnerable people are just hanging out with no one to stop you drowning?

Dustin’s blue eyes grew big and confused at the mention of his name. You looked at the young curly-haired boy reflexively.

“What about ‘im?” you shot back.

“He doesn’t have collar bones!” Steve barked, gesturing at the boy. 

Dustin looked a little hurt by the observation, true though it may be. Steve winced a little at his own insensitivity and immediately wished he could walk it back. “Sorry, bud,” he offered. 

Dustin seemed immediately appeased at his correction and shrugged as if to say “no problem.”

You weren’t ready to let it go, however. A mean guffaw escaped from the back of your throat before you replied “Dustin is fine. He’s a very capable swimmer,” you spat. Unlike me, Steve heard you mutter snarkily under your breath.

 You flicked Dustin’s nose lightly and winked at him, and he preened under your attention. All the kids did. You had that way about you, is all. 

Sensing the tension on the water, Eddie, Rob, Nance and Jon were stood up on the shore, looking on with mild concern. 

Steve noticed you noticing them and then you shook your head and declared “Know what? I packed sandwiches and nobody has touched them, so…andiamo.” 

With that, you abandoned your pool noodle and lifted yourself out of the water and onto the dock by your good arm. 

I would have helped her, Steve thought to himself bitterly, watching you drop hard on your knees before getting to your feet. 

He sated his need to help by pushing Dustin onto the dock by his butt, much to Dustin’s annoyance.

A bit later, everyone was seated on the shore, the last of the sandwiches having been polished off. 

The tension had waned for everyone else and the ambient murmur of jovial conversation had returned. 

Eddie was seated at Steve’s side, yammering in his ear about a road trip he wanted to take with you all sometime next Spring.

 But Steve’s gaze was trained on you, across the circle, engaged in quiet conversation with Nancy and Robin. 

You had pulled your shorts on, leaving them unbuttoned over your bikini bottoms. Your oxford shirt with the sleeves cut off was unbuttoned, billowing open down to your navel. The trash bag had been removed from your arm carefully with the help of the tiny scissors on Dustin’s swiss army knife. 

You smiled wryly at some joke that Robin had made. Your face was free of makeup, eyes a little tired, but sanguine. 

“Ya listening to me, Stevie boy?” Eddie asked, cutting through Steve’s haze. 

“Sorry dude,” Steve shot back mindlessly, willing himself to pry his gaze away.

Eddie merely sniggered at his friend’s lack of manners. “That was quite a spectacle the two of you put on earlier.”

Steve scowled at him, knowing damn well what he was talking about, but choosing to feign ignorance.

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

Eddie was unbothered by Steve’s pretend-game, continuing, “Like, you two guys pitch each other a lot of shit and it's usually good natured, but lately it's been…” Eddie sucked on his teeth as he pondered the right adjective. “Sticky.”

“Ed, man, shut up.”

“Nah,” Eddie said on a deep inhale. “Figure your shit out, Harrington. It’s embarrassing.” Eddie sunk back down into his chair. 

“Teenie Ween’s always been a sweetheart as long as I've known her but lately, you've been bringing out the worst in each other and it's exhausting.”

Steve’s face scrunched up in confusion, pondering Eddie’s cryptic words.

 “I’m sorry,” Steve said absently, though he didn’t know what he was sorry for.

 Eddie just smiled back at him from behind a pair of aviators.

Soon, the sun started to dip and everyone was a little sun drunk and over the day. Belongings were packed and the troupe of you made it up the bluff and through the thicket of overgrown weeds, back to the road. 

(⁠๑⁠♡⁠⌓⁠♡⁠๑⁠)

It was the transportation arrangement that really clinched the awkwardness of the outing. 

Nancy had hauled everyone to the beach earlier that day, sans you. You had been dropped off by a boy called Allen Miles and the mention of his name grated on Steve’s very spine.

Before you and Steve could devolve into another bitching match, Nancy pursed her lips and made a sound declaration that Steve would drive you, Dustin and Robin home.

 Nevermind that her station wagon would still be stuffed to the gills clown-style. And you wouldn’t even have the buffer of El at the ready since she was staying at Max’s house. You fought her on it, too.

“Does dad know you’re staying over with Max?” you asked her, almost pleading with her to give you a reason to pull elder sibling rank on you.

“Yes,” she hissed back at you haughtily. You deflated, knowing that you would be dropped off last. 

Maybe you could pretend to fall asleep during the ride so you didn’t have to deal with Steve alone. 

Looks were exchanged and car doors were slammed before you all set off into the twilight. Robin, who typically called shotty, practically shoved you into the front seat of Steve’s car. You didn’t want to make a scene in light of the day’s events, so you went without quarrel. 

Dustin and Robin droned on in the backseat about…something. You couldn’t have recounted even a smidgen of their conversation with a gun to your head. 

You were focused on Steve next to you, seething. You could feel it coming off of him. 

Your jaw clenched as Robin fixed you and Steve with an exasperated look that you could see in the side view mirror before leaving you with a cheeky adios! 

Dustin took up the mantle of filling the silence but soon enough, you were parked in front of the Henderson residence. 

The boy parried a moment before seemingly deciding he couldn't say or do anything to pop yours and Steve's acidic little bubble. The pair of you watched his mom greet him at the door before pulling away.

The thing was, today hadn’t happened in a vacuum. You and Steve had always gotten along pretty famously as far as your friends and built family were concerned. Certainly enough to make it through a world of unconscionable shit alongside the rest of them. 

But when reality as you all knew it was falling to pieces, nobody had the presence of mind to tune into the frequency that the two of you were on. They didn’t notice the intricacies of the geological formation of your relationship. 

You had materialized - yes! materialized - out of nowhere back in the fall of ‘83. You’d been sucked into the Upside Down from another time and place entirely. The unwitting and unlikely victim of a quantum hiccup twenty years in the future near your home on Nellis Airforce Base in North Las Vegas. 

Your slime-covered, barely animate fifteen-year-old body was discovered and carried out of the Upside Down by Hop. He, in a hazmat suit, you in your ripped, bloodied Catholic school uniform while Joyce stumbled alongside him with Will in her clutches. 

For weeks, you’d been near-catatonic, held in the custody of Dr. Owens while a cadre of shady G-men (plus Hop and Joyce) had tried to piece together your journey.

 You barely registered that you had leapt back in time and ended up somewhere you didn’t know a soul, half a decade before you were even born. 

For you were traumatized and plagued with guilt over the death of another teenage girl. A girl that had desperately wanted to get back to where you found yourself by accident. 

You'd tried pulling Barb off that sticky wall, even though part of you knew she was already dead. Soon, you surrendered to your exhaustion and found yourself glued to the same wall, a grotty vine prodding at your lips, trying to make a home in your esophagus right as Hop and Joyce happened upon you.

Eventually, your body healed and you came out of your stupor. You went to live with Hop. You didn’t have anywhere else to go, and besides which way, the best conclusion that the scientists from the DoE could come up with was that if you were going to go back “home”, it would be the way you came. So you had to stay close by.

 They paid a stipend to keep you fed and kept - you were an investment, afterall. Moreover, you were a liability and a paradox, and this was the best arrangement Owens could come up with. 

Hop got used to having you around, never trying to force the matter of you returning home. In the weeks when you’d lost track of El, you would sometimes stand timidly in front of the towering man until he promised you that you would find her. 

Neither of you could stand the guilt of her being out there on her own. Eventually El showed up and he decided that you would all carry on as though you had both been there the whole time. 

Nobody wanted you to go back home. How would you get there? How would you survive a second time?

You started school in January of ‘84, sticking close to the walls. 

Nancy and Jon felt responsible for you and kept you close. By default, that meant Steve, too. But Steve was suspicious of you. 

You were freaky to him and despite what he’d seen in the Byers house, he couldn’t really comprehend your being there. 

Sometimes, when you were all hanging out, a brand new song would come on the radio - like the DJ would make a big production of stressing the just released single - and then you’d absentmindedly mouth all the words perfectly. 

Other times, you’d say non-sequitur things that would turn out to be quotes from movies that hadn’t been released when you’d uttered them. 

The most unnerving was when Nancy’s father was hemming and hawing at the breakfast table one morning you were all over at the Wheeler house. 

He was pouring over a newspaper article about some sick murderer on the loose, reciting the most sordid details while Karen Wheeler stood at the stove flipping pancakes, scolding her husband for discussing it in front of the kids. 

Suddenly, you paused with your glass of orange juice poised at your lips and muttered the name Alton Coleman with a vacant look in your eyes. Days later, Alton Coleman was apprehended. 

Karen and Ted Wheeler had missed it, luckily. But when Nancy had pressed you on the issue, wondering if you were tapped into some latent psychic ability that you and her could use to fight crime, you'd disappointed the girl by informing her that one of the last things you'd seen on TV before you “leapt” was a documentary about Alton Coleman. And it had only stuck with you because you'd gone over your actions in your last days at Nellis with Owens until you were blue in the face.

Then there was the style stuff. You seemed totally confused about what you referred to as “big, crispy hair,” not to mention your general aversion to spandex and high-waisted jeans. 

You wore your hair with minimal volume, kept your clothes and makeup neutral, toned down, boring. 

Nancy thought it was because you’d been to Catholic school and you were “demure” as she put it.

But Steve had quickly clocked that you thought everything around you was cheesy and dated but you didn’t want to stand out or accidentally make a statement by dressing from your own time. So you dressed like a bland schoolmistress and let Jonathan make you mixtapes because a constant rotation of Top 40 artists eventually set your teeth on edge. 

You stopped telling Steve who the one-hit-wonders were because he was really rooting for Dexy’s Midnight Runners and he got all salty when you told him. 

Nobody tried to meet you where you were at culturally, because all of you were a little worried that if you divulged secrets from the future, it would create some kind of extra rip in the universe. So you kept your trap shut except to say that you didn’t really like your time either and that, really, the ‘80s weren’t so bad in some ways. 

Plus, you practically drooled at the sight of Eddie Van Halen and Mickey Rourke whenever you got the opportunity. They were so hot, you'd lament in a pained wail at the TV, as if you weren't living in the very time in which they were dropping your panties. 

Steve rolled his eyes every time you did this. Little Miss Catholic School swooning over rock stars and greasers. How original. Your crush on Spock from Star Trek…Well that broke up the cliché a little.

Steve slowly started to feel more at ease around you, distracting himself with his romance with Nancy. 

And you started to branch out, making friends outside of the people that knew too much for their own good.

You started wearing acid-washed denim over bolder colors, teasing your hair a bit, adopting high-waisted jeans (which made your ass look delectable, Steve grudgingly noticed - as did Allen Miles, apparently). 

You were still on the shy, mild side, but you weren't such a wallflower. People knew you by face and name now. 

Steve thought being from the future made you naturally more magnetic or something. Like you were always two moves ahead of everyone. That made him kind of nervous, though, so he still watched you in his periphery.

He told himself it was to make sure you didn’t slip up and involve anyone else in your freakish situation. He’d watch you in the cafeteria, the courtyard, laughing with your small circle of casual pals, looking for any indication that you were spilling your guts and making yourself look like a headcase in the process. 

Best case scenario, you’d wind up in an asylum or something. Worst case, you’d end up in a gulag with electrodes inserted in every square inch of visible flesh. Months of his low-key recon suddenly became moot the night of the Halloween party in ‘84. 

Steve had just had his heart crushed by Nancy in a spectacular fashion, when he pulled over on his way home.

He was trying to stave off waves of fresh pain in his chest, sat at the wheel of his car, gulping air, willing the sting of rejection to sink to the depths of his loafers. Toto’s Africa provided the soundtrack to his misery.

He startled at a gentle rapping at his window. He looked up to see you, haloed in the streetlight, wearing a copper lamé dress with a high split in the leg and a dip at the shoulder. Your eyes were smoked out, making your confused glare even more intense. 

Possessed Dana Barrett, you’d explained, offering him a bite of your candy apple. He refused it, so you chucked it out the window into a storm drain, licking your sticky fingers. 

You'd taken Nancy's little brother and his friends trick-or-treating and they'd cajoled you into being Possessed Dana Barrett to round out the Ghostbusters cast. You wanted to be Slimer but you didn't know how to pull it off on such short notice, and Joyce Byers had loaned you this gown from the days of disco, and why was he so long in the face, anyway?

Steve was just desperate enough to ask you to hang out at his, which turned into a request for you to stay over at his. He'd never had his heart broken by someone he’d chosen, and part of him wanted to hide. 

But he knew going home to his empty house and the silence would taunt him. You went along with it easily. You almost didn't even seem confused as to why he was asking you. 

You washed your face and used a spare toothbrush he had. The sleeves of the pajama top he'd long since outgrown still reached past your fingertips. He'd stared at you as you rolled them up your forearms, one leg crossed over the other, hanging off the edge of his bed.

It felt strange but comforting and he allowed himself to wonder if he'd ever get to see a lover or even his wife do those same dainty motions in a bigger bed. In a shared bed, one day. He wondered if he'd remember the sight of you, right now.

You and him were laying in his bed, top and tail - platonic 69’ing, you'd joked, immediately clearing your throat when Steve didn't laugh -, when you broke the silence telling him, “Talk to her. In a couple days. She was drunk, Steve, she didn't know what she was saying.” 

He had to remind himself that you were talking about him and Nance.

“She was hurtfully clear about it,” he retorted. A beat passed before you offered an anecdote about your first time getting drunk at a Christmas party on base. 

You'd snuck a bunch of drinks with some other Air Force brats throughout the night before loudly declaring to a room full of military families that you were going to invent the hoverboard from Back to the Future. 

Steve didn't know what Back to the Future was and you quickly corrected course, telling him to get some sleep. 

That was the night the two of you became something like friends. 

The next day he woke up with the red painted toe nails of one of your feet lodged in the crook of his arm. He didn’t hate it. 

Mere days later, after you'd blocked Lucas Sinclair’s body with your own and gotten Billy Hargrove’s backhand for your trouble, after he'd watched you clutch the Mother Mary medallion around your neck and recite whispered, rushed prayers to a god you scarcely believed in in the back of an abandoned school bus before fighting otherworldly monsters alongside him, and going back into that hell mouth because you'd been down there before and couldn't let the rest go in without knowing what they were up against…

Steve felt ready to let Nancy go. 

He still cared for her, he still didn't like how it ended, but his world felt bigger and less stifling now. And he didn't need to hold onto the last dregs of something that would stay just that…dregs. There were possibilities all around him. He didn't want to cling to someone that didn't want him back.

Yours and Steve's friendship was quietly strengthened over two more reality-rocking apocalypses. One of those included his initiation to the Back to the Future franchise. “Ooooh,” he'd loudly declared in the theater, finally understanding your reference while off his face on Russian truth serum. You’d looked over at him with bleary eyes, shooting him finger guns, grateful for the vindication.

In between, and after the mall fire, there were lots of jokes, cookouts, Midwest adventures and plenty of heretofore platonic 69ing in his bed. Top and tail sleepovers followed by rote, cozy breakfasts at the county’s diners. 

You would mewl a miserable sleep song on those mornings until he reminded you of the very existence of French toast.

 Sometimes it was just the two of you, sometimes your friends joined. But it was almost agonizing in its closeness and familiarity. And it grew out of the impossible.

A shrink could have told Steve that the bitching between the two of you that occasionally oozed to the surface like liquid rock was a trauma response. The shrink would have gone on to explain that Steve was projecting his fears onto you because you were an easy target. You'd experienced it together and he had access to you. And Steve would need to find another shrink because he'd know they were only half-right. 

Yes, you'd become fixtures in each other's lives and had shared experiences out of the ordinary. But the same could be said of Robin or Dustin or Eddie, etc. and yes, he mother-henned them all, but when it came to you, he couldn't be talked out of it. Because as important as Robin or Dustin or Eddie, etc. were to him, it was your ass that he couldn't seem to crawl out of, and it annoyed you as much as anyone else.

You'd been very sweet and mellow about it up to this point, but things were getting confusing between you two. Hence the pool noodle incident and passive aggressive defiance.

You started buttoning your shirt up just for something to do with your good hand and after a prolonged and uncomfortable silence, Steve spoke. “Allen Miles,” he said simply.

You stopped at the top button of your blouse. “Allen Miles,” you parroted back.

You saw the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. “Allen…Miles,” he tried again, testing the name on his tongue.

You picked at your cast, tracing the well-wishes in Robin's loopy chicken scratch with your thumb. “Is a person that exists,” you said flaty, as if to staunch whatever shit was about to come out of his mouth next.

“Allen Miles is a douche-dick,” he sing-songed quietly enough that you could have pretended not to hear.

Unbelievable. You sniffed at the insult. “What'd Allen Miles ever do to you?”

“Why'd he give you a ride today?” he asked, dodging the question. “You could have piled in with everyone else.” Ugh. He sounded like Hop.

The simplicity and faux-calmness of the statement took you aback. Was he for real right now? “He works at the rec center on Saturday mornings and I had physio-therapy there today. He offered,” you countered, trying not to sound as defensive as you felt - though the words came out in a rapid stream almost as if they’d been rehearsed (they weren’t). You bit the inside of your cheek. An argument was a-brewin.’

Steve turned off the narrow highway onto the skinny, heavily-wooded trail to the cabin. He was seething and neither of you knew why. “So he waited for you to get done with PT?” 

“No,” you shot back, not fully understanding the anger under his line of questioning. “His shift ended a half hour after I was done. I waited for him.”

A scoff. “He made you wait for him?” He posed the question as if it was the most distasteful thing he could imagine.

“He didn’t make me do anything! He didn't have to drive me in the first place!”

“Well then why didn’t you come to the store! If you were waiting for a ride, you could have waited for me!”

“That would have taken hours! What is your problem?”

“Just-” Steve took a deep breath, flicking his gaze to you briefly as the Bimmer trundled down the beaten path to the cabin. “I just wonder about Miles, ya know? He’s a little sleazy around you, what if he just wants to get in your pants? What if he’d-”

Steve was the Larry Bird of cutting himself off, apparently.

“What if he’d made a move?” you offered.

“Exactly,” Steve said, pointing at you.

“What if he had?” you questioned honestly.

The cabin came into view, mercifully, only a moment later. Your head was swimming. Steve had been acting so short with you the last few weeks. It had ramped up when you’d broken the arm.

It was a stupid accident, really. Max had begged you to take a run on the skateboard, something you’d never done. She’d egged you on and you’d done it and you’d gone flying over a stop skid in the church parking lot. 

She had to run into the church and have the secretary call you an ambulance. In hindsight, you were lucky you hadn’t broken your face open. You knew when to take a W, so you didn’t dwell on the possibilities too much.

Steve had heard you were in the hospital and had a conniption. Granted, he hadn’t stayed on the phone with Max long enough to hear It’s just her arm, she’s fine. 

You’d been hopped up on morphine and called him a fruit loop for getting his panties in such a twist. 

And ever since then, you two had been walking a razor’s edge. Where it had once been easy to diffuse your little tiffs, you seemed to be perpetually living under one another’s skin. 

Steve threw the car in park and whipped over to face you. “What do you mean what if he had?” You did not appreciate the falsetto that his voice had taken on to impersonate you. 

“I mean what I said, Steve! What is your deal?”

“He could be a total dirt bag, Teenie!”

You sighed to yourself and pinched the bridge of your nose. You were suddenly so tired. “He didn’t make a pass at me, Steve. He was very sweet and cordial and I got there in one piece and I really need you to back off right now, please.”

This was it. This was your limit. You wanted to crawl out of your skin. You huffed quietly to yourself before telling Steve “I need you to not talk to me for a while, okay?” And at that, you grabbed your bag from between your feet and got out of the car.

You heard Steve government-name you before you closed the door and skulked toward the cabin. The tears came fast and you were grateful that Steve didn’t follow you. Instead he gripped his steering wheel and internally scolded himself for everything that had just transpired. 

Steve knew he wasn’t always the brightest, but how? How did he always end up shooting himself in the foot? He chanced a look at the cabin and lingered for a moment after he saw the light in the mudroom off the side that served as your sleeping quarters had turned on. 

He gave more than a passing thought to going in after you, but he wasn’t going to fuck it further by pushing you when you’d explicitly asked for space. Plus, he was chastised, but he was still fussy, and he didn’t fully trust himself to not keep digging this hole deeper. 

After a moment, he gathered himself and left the property, turning up the radio and letting Talk to Me by Stevie Nicks rub the salt in as he made his way back to his empty house. 

Inside the cabin, you watched Steve’s headlights disappear as you wrestled your Detroit Red Wings jersey over your cast. It was the only sleep shirt that you could get over your cast at the moment. 

Your tears had subsided, slurped back up into your tear ducts for the sheer fact that you didn’t want to waste anymore tears on Steve Harrington. 

He probably didn’t know it, the beautiful dolt, but over the years that you’d known him, he’d kept pushing on the same bruise, and it had gotten even more difficult for you to cope. 

He'd gone for the throat harping on Allen Miles, whom you were not interested in like that. Steve's over-the-top paternalistic revulsion at the thought of you getting some hurt your feelings and made you feel like he'd only ever see you as a fragile little sister figure that he needed to coddle. Like your having sex was some kind of aberration. 

Having him treat you that way with the way you felt about him twisted your heart.

You were tired of having a big and important part of you ignored. A part that you’d never talked with anyone, especially Steve, in great detail. The sexual part. The (gag) sensual part. You were eighteen going on forty-eight, already whinging internally about how you were a woman™ dammit and you had needs™. 

You weren’t seasoned, by any means. You’d had a handful of secret fumbles with secret partners and you’d made discoveries about yourself. 

A of all- and this one you’d suspected since puberty hit - you got turned on easily. Like sloppy, soppy, pushing down on your vulva like you were hiding a boner turned on. And for no reason.

Sometimes it happened when you saw Eddie Van Halen on MTV or Mickey Rourke in Rumble Fish or LeVar Burton on the cover of TV Guide. 

Sometimes it happened when you had to go to a stupid school spirit assembly and had to look at boys in their stupid, short basketball shorts and/or girls in their cheerleading regalia. 

Sometimes it happened when you watched Eddie’s band practice in Gareth’s garage and saw the young Munson trash around all sweaty, handling his guitar expertly.

Once, it had happened when you saw Robin throw a balled up Dixie Cup into a bin at a considerable distance and she’d celebrated excessively and it was cute. 

You knew you didn't want to fuck Eddie or Robin -it would be weird beyond weird. It's just that you could appreciate them.

The same way you appreciated the nasty smacking noises Nancy and Jon made when they were making out in what they thought was a private moment and you knew they were gonna bang later. 

Your friends did sexy things, and sometimes it turned you on.

Mostly, though, it happened with Steve. At least once a day (usually more), he did something that accidentally got you going. A hand on his hip, and hand through his hair, a smirk, a wink, a smile, a whisper in your ear, a casual touch on the small of your back. 

This was to say nothing of how he made you feel emotionally. How unguarded and at peace you felt when he was around. How physical closeness felt as natural as breathing, and you were not hugged enough as a child, so that was saying something. 

Sometimes you'd give each other long lingering hugs and it made you wish you could fuse your flesh to his. You wanted to be his Kuato, always melded to his tummy. And you knew it was weird but so what? Nobody needed to know.

B of all - you liked being touched. And snogged. And railed. And held tight. Which you discovered on your own and in secret, no thanks to Steve. Because Steve usually had a squeeze waiting in the wings somewhere. 

And even when he didn’t, he was preoccupied either with healing from his first great heartbreak or pondering how to rebound from said great heartbreak. Despite your raging hormones, you knew you wanted nothing to do with either of those. So you outsourced your sexual energy.

As soon as you'd gotten over your hangups about the cheesy, neon, teased to high-hell vomit pile that was the 1980s in America, and you'd leaned into it just a little bit, you started getting noticed. And you discovered, thanks to Francis and David and Chelsea (separately), that you did not just enjoy sex in theory, but also in practice. 

The kicker, though, was that while you physically enjoyed the sex that you’d had, you realized when you were coming down from the high that something might be missing. You could have an orgasm that you felt in your very boots, but you wouldn’t ever ask the person that had just rocked your world to drive you to the airport or buy you French toast, much less trust them with your heart. 

Your stupid, stupid heart. It beat for a boy that seemed to think you had the sex life of a castrato.

You flopped down on your bed and stared at your ceiling. You felt kind of bad brushing Steve off like that, even demanding that he not talk to you. 

You hadn't chanced a look back at his face when you'd left his car, but you knew you would have seen that hardened, confused look that he got when he was hurt. That look that always crushed you and made you want to kiss his face and whisper sweet words until he broke out into that cocky grin of his.

You rolled over and closed your eyes, wishing he was next to you, that you could feel his weight and body heat, that you were holding him by the crook of his elbow and pressing your face into his bicep. That you could somehow transmit your thoughts without speaking them out loud and that he would at least be gentler with you and not infer that you were sexless anymore. Even if he didn’t want you like that.

You settled into that lukewarm fantasy, of the memory of him, and let yourself drift to sleep.

(⁠๑⁠♡⁠⌓⁠♡⁠๑⁠)

Steve was sitting on his floor leaned against his bed, holding one of his most prized worldly possessions. It was a candid Polaroid of the two of you.

It was taken at the fair last year. It was a little overexposed with the lights from the rides surrounding you, but the figures of you two were clear as day.

In the photo, Steve was holding your wrist to his chest with a crooked grin, mouth poised near your ear. It looked like he'd just whispered something to you. Your head was crooked to the side and down, like you were trying to worm away from his grasp, your eyes closed with the intensity of your laugh. Your face was glowing with the fair lights and there was a streak of white on your cheek. You both looked sublimely happy.

Steve smiled at the memory. You'd made a game of forcing bits of funnel cake into his mouth when he wasn't paying attention when finally, he'd caught you before your next “attack” and smeared powdered sugar from the pastry onto your cheek as revenge.

His first thought when Jonathan had presented him with the memento at the end of that night was that he was looking at you like a boy in love and he wondered how many times he'd been caught looking at you like that, without photographic evidence.

The bitter memory of you telling him I need you to not talk to me for a while roared back into his consciousness and slapped him in the face. You'd sounded hurt, on top of being pissed. 

Did you really want to date Allen Miles? You said he hadn't made a pass at you. Did it hurt your feelings because he didn't make a pass at you and Steve had just dug the knife in more? He'd throttle Miles if he'd hurt your feelings. Fuck that guy.

Or were you worried about Steve's opinion of your choice in boyfriends? Was Allen your type? What was your type? He knew Eddie Van Halen and Mickey Rourke and LeVar Burton were your type but that weird trinity did not clarify things for him.

Steve tried to recall what, besides his shortness with you, could have triggered you to react the way that you did. By now, he knew that whatever it was, it was his fault. He would love to pawn the blame off on you but you were usually blameless, especially to him. You were sweet and gentle and always seemed to anticipate and prioritize other people’s needs at your own peril. 

He'd given you space like you asked but it had been a couple days now. He was starting to feel like he was jonesing. 

He was hoping you would have come to visit him at the video store by now, jumping on his back and hugging him like a koala, whispering in his ear that all was forgiven and things could go back to normal, like how they were before you'd broken your arm.

But when Steve thought about things going back the way they were, it made his brain itch. He felt like something was totally different and the two of you couldn't go back if you wanted to. Moreover, he didn't know if he did want to. He wanted…

Steve's thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing. He slid the Polaroid of you two back into his bedside drawer and hastily picked up the receiver. Please be her, please be her, please be her. 

“Hello?”

“Steve?” 

Nance. “Nance?” Fuck it all. Steve bit back his disappointment. “What's up?”

“Is Teenie over at yours? I tried to call her but El said she's not home but she's not working today, either. I know Robin was scheduled at the store today. I thought she might be with you.”

Steve's jaw clenched involuntarily. Were you with Allen Miles? 

“Um,” Steve said with a little choke. “No, no. She's not here. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything's good. It's just that I was emptying the cooler and I found that Mother Mary medallion she always wears? It must have slipped off her neck. It was her grandmother's and I thought she might be bugging out thinking it was lost forever and-”

“I'll come get it,” Steve interrupted. He was already pulling his sneakers on. “You gonna be home for a minute?”

“Oh.” A pause. “It's no big deal, Steve, I'm running Mike to the cabin tomorrow, I can just drop it off then.”

Steve was pacing now, thinking he might be losing his line back to you. You did love that necklace even though you'd abandoned the Church forever ago. Your grandmother was the only person from back “home” that you were sentimental about - and she'd died not long before you'd ended up here. 

That necklace was the only tangible piece of your former life that you really cared about. Maybe you'd be more inclined to listen or even share oxygen with him if he brought it back to you.

“Uh, it's cool. She actually left her uh,” Steve began, looking around the room then down at his feet, “uh, her shoes, yeah. She left them in my car when I dropped her off the other night.” Lie.

He heard Nancy laugh, a little disbelievingly. “She left her shoes in your car.” It came out as a statement.

“Psh, yeah. They were all sandy from the beach and she hates the feeling of leftover sand in between her toes.” Half lie. You had told him that, once. “Anyway, I'll be by in like ten.” 

“Ste-”

Steve dropped the receiver back in the cradle and made a mad dash for Nancy’s. Nancy was waiting for him on the front step when he arrived. When she dropped the necklace in his waiting palm, he held it gingerly and stared at it like a holy relic.

Nancy cleared her throat. Steve met her eyes and he could see something like suspicion dancing behind them, along with a little smirk. “You better go find Teenie. Poor girl’s walking around without shoes, afterall.”

Nancy was always too smart for her own good - or anyone else’s for that matter. He thanked her as if she’d given him the world and went on his merry way. 

(⁠๑⁠♡⁠⌓⁠♡⁠๑⁠)

Steve decided to make a pitstop back at his house instead of going right over to yours. He’d been planning on going to the cabin and waiting for you if you hadn’t gotten home yet. 

But after he left Nancy’s, he thought that this might not be the move. You were really mad at him and he wanted to show you that he could listen and respect your wishes.

He spent a good twenty minutes pacing around his living room trying to come up with a gameplan on how to return your necklace without ruffling your feathers further. 

Maybe he should buy you an obnoxiously large teddy bear? 

No, if you hated it, he would be stuck with an over-large, cutesy reminder of his failure. 

Or maybe he could hire one of those dorky barbershop quartets to show up at work and sing you a song about how he knew he was a dipshit, but you meant so much to him, please take him back?

 No, no. You would die of embarrassment and probably haunt him for the rest of his days. 

He was still holding your necklace, gripping his hair by the roots when he heard the doorbell. 

Maybe it was Dustin or Eddie. Maybe he could bounce some ideas off them, he thought as he jogged toward the door. 

He opened it and felt the air leave his lungs when he saw you standing there. You were staring up at him, eyes wide, swaying your shoulders a little bit the way you did when you were nervous. 

You were wearing his favorite dress of yours. This beige thing with tie straps and red flowers on it. The first time he’d seen you wear it, you’d been all dolled up in a way that was almost salacious. Now you wore your hair down with barely a stitch of makeup on and Steve thought you looked…

“Hi,” you said shyly. 

“Hi,” he said back, his voice sounding small in his ears. He cleared his throat, hoping that if he found his voice again, he wouldn’t sound so broken. “Come in?”

You didn’t hesitate, thankfully. You walked past him, minding your cast and stopped in the foyer before you turned to him. You shrugged one shoulder bashfully. 

“Nancy said you had my necklace.” Your face scrunched up in confusion. “Also, something about shoes?”

Steve pushed the door shut and walked over to you. 

“Uh, yeah, I might have lied to her and said you left your shoes in my car so I’d have an excuse to take custody of your necklace.” 

The confusion on your face deepened. 

Steve held your necklace out to you and you let him drop it into your good hand.

You both stood there for an awkward moment. “I missed you,” you said.

Steve felt his heart soar and opened his mouth to respond but you cut him off. 

“Will you help me?” you asked, holding up the necklace and then your cast to make your point. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said, rushing to your back. You handed him the necklace and bunched your hair up in a fist, holding it out of the way. 

Steve took a moment to appreciate the back of your neck, the downy hairs at your hairline, the little birthmark at the junction of your shoulder. He looped the necklace around you and clasped it, checking that the spring in the clasp was still sound.

“All set,” he said. 

You spun around to meet him and he saw you touch the pendant at your decolletage with a little smile. “Thank you.”

“I missed you too,” Steve rushed out, hands shoved in his back pockets.

The look you gave him back was soft and dazed and he felt his heart kick in his chest. You cocked your head at him. “Why were you so upset about Allen, Stevie?”

Steve didn’t detect even a hint of anger in your question. You just kept staring at him softly. Steve walked over to the couch and perched himself against the backrest. His thumbs rubbed dual patterns on the suede upholstery while he thought up a response. The best he could come up with was “Do you like him? Allen, I mean? Like…romantic-wise?”

He glanced up at you bashfully, dreading the answer he was sure would come.

Your eyes narrowed, but not meanly. You walked over to him and planted your hip against the couch next to him. 

“No,” you said, simply.

Steve released a relieved exhale from deep in his chest. You weren’t done, though. “But Stevie, why…I mean why did you get so mad at the thought of Allen and I together?”

Steve felt his eyes bug out but tried to school his expression into something less obvious. He shrugged when he finally met your eyes again. “Teenie, I just.” He wet his bottom lip. You wore the same soft, contemplative expression but he thought he could see your breathing kick up as you waited for him to finish. 

Steve was right. You were trying to stop yourself from hyperventilating. You hadn’t come over here to confront Steve, not really. You really just wanted to see him again and figure out what he was playing at, purloining your necklace from Nancy in an obvious attempt to get back in your good graces. It would have been a cute gesture if you weren’t so worried about what was coming next. 

But two days of feeling like your brain was leaking for its singular fixation on your Stevie and how much you missed him had finally gotten the best of you. You came round the moment you could. You knew it was time to face the music, come what may. 

“I just want…whoever you hang out with or end up being with…I just want them to treat you with respect. And I want you to have fun and feel safe and…”

God, he was beautiful. Didn’t he know? How could he not know?

Steve seemed to be at a loss for words now, so you offered some.

 “I could have those things with you,” you breathed out almost dreamily.

Steve's eyes went wide again and you felt like your heart was going to break because that look could have meant…so many things. Not all of them good.

You backed away from his side slowly, ready to make a break for it, but Steve caught you gently by the upper arms and stood at his full height. He stared at you like you were a brand new lifeform.

“Teenie?” he said in a too-tiny voice.

You were looking right into the void, free-falling into the hinterworld of your own heart.

“Stevie, do you think of me like a little sister?”

Steve's eyebrows shot up with something like horror before he cleared his throat and shook away some thought known only to him. 

“Ew, no, Teen.”

You bit your lip and stamped your foot just a little bit, feeling a little unmoored. You worried suddenly that you wouldn't get the answers you wanted. 

Steve had loosened his grip on you just a smidge. He was absently stroking your arms with his thumbs.

“One of the kids then. Dustin or Max or-”

“No,” he answered immediately, shaking his head decisively. “No.” 

And you knew. You knew he meant it.

You backed away, feeling singed by his sincerity. You paced the length of the runner behind the couch and slid a nail along your cast making little zipzipzip noises to fill the quiet. You turned to him after a moment.

“So what's happening with us. Why are we being so weird with each other?” 

Steve put his hands on his hips. “You broke your ass, Teenie,” he said sternly. “It could have been your head!”

“It wasn't though, it wasn't my head!” Your voice had a desperate edge. “Way crazier stuff has happened to me, to both of us! All our friends…”

He looked at you like you were speaking a different language. He shut his eyes tight like he was willing the memories away. He gathered himself quickly.

“Right, and if things had gone differently, we don't know what could have happened!”

Both of you were breathing hard, tears stinging your eyeballs. It's like you had awoken a sleeping beast by merely mentioning its existence.

Steve gestured into the air and stared into the distance as he continued. He was so fuckin’ pretty, you thought then. Even when he had big fuckin’ feelings that his pretty fuckin’ self couldn't contain in his pretty fuckin' meat prison.

“Every time something happens to you, it's like I can't stop thinking about it.” Steve's tented his fingers at his temples to demonstrate his point, eyes wide and unblinking like there was a movie playing behind his eyes that he couldn't look away from.

You started taking slow, tiny steps toward him, like he was a wounded rabbit and you didn't want to frighten him off. You wanted to hold him. 

“I spin out and I can't stop thinking about you dying.” 

Two more tiny, furtive steps toward him.

“Or being born.”

“Oh, Stevie-” Wait. “Wait, being born? What?”

Steve had pulled at his hair and it was messy in that perfect way. 

“Your birthday, Teenie.” He said it both frantically and like you were dumb for not following. “It's 1986, your birthday is less than two years away and we don't know.” He practically whimpered your name, willing you to understand.

It hit you then. You'd forgotten yourself for a minute, how absurd your life was. The very thing that was whispered among your friends and found family - spoken in a hushed manner for fear of speaking it into reality (or causing you an existential crisis.) You always heard them, though. 

You had almost…almost found it funny how nobody seemed to think that the thought didn't cross your mind at three in the morning most nights.

The question of what would happen when the day of your birth - the one on your original, undoctored birth certificate that you'd left in a banker box back on Nellis AFB - finally rolled around. The day you would find out to what extent you were an actual paradox. If having been evicted from your mother's womb on that day would cause you to be slurped back into the Upside Down…Or if you would blink out of existence.

But the question hadn't woken you up since Spring Break. Because the positive to having a psionic demon vampire picking apart your psyche is that sometimes you got good intel.

You felt so warm all of a sudden, watching Steve watch you with his eyes wide and desperate and his scrumptious lips pushed into a sad pout, looking so young. You'd never been so touched in all your life.

You strode over to him and pulled his collar to encourage him down, closer to your height.

His arms looped around your middle. It was automatic. The half-crazed look on his face dropped away, replaced by an expression that told you he was taken aback but that he didn't hate this.

“I love you,” you declared, firm and resolute, yet quaky with emotion. You hoped he knew that this wasn't like the other times you said it. And that you could table the birthday discussion until after…

You squeezed his face and pushed your mouth into his as you looped your broken arm around his neck.

Steve gathered your hair away from your face and returned the kiss without a moment’s hesitation.

His mouth was warm and soft and a little tacky from how he'd been licking his lips nervously moments before. Your lip balm provided just the right amount of slide for your lips to tangle together perfectly.

Steve stumbled with you in his arms against the nearest wall. You took great care not to accidentally dicknail him in the side of the head with your cast as he hoisted you up, cradling your thighs in his hands.

Through his panting, he managed, “Do you mean it?”

Both of you knew what he meant. Did you mean I love you? Did you mean the kiss? The answer to both was a resounding fucking yes.

“Yes, Stevie. I want this. I want you so bad-”

Steve dive-bombed your mouth with his own, caressing your tongue with his. You opened your mouth wider to let him riff on it. 

You shuddered when you felt his crotch press into yours. The feeling of his hardening cock pressed into the space that was rapidly becoming drenched with your horniness and love for this boy combined with the slipperiness of your tongues moving together was beyond your wildest dreams.

Steve couldn't believe this was happening. He couldn't believe that the only thing standing between you two and your mutual desire to jam yourselves together like you were trying to fuse into a superbeing was that you thought he didn't think you were sexy or mature or whatever the fuck. 

If his blood supply wasn't rushing to his crotchal region right now, he might have done some psychological forensics to figure out how you'd arrived at that conclusion.

And fuck him if you didn't know what you were doing. This clearly wasn't your first heavy make out. Normally, that thought would make him jealous as all hell. But he could feel it. The rightness of this and he knew it didn't matter.

He pulled back from your mouth and let himself stare at you shamelessly. Your mouth was kiss-bitten and -oh - you already had this sexy, flushed glow painted from your cleavage to your cheeks. 

You wore a beautifully profane expression, half-helpless and half-threatening as in I'm going to eat you if you don't eat me first. Your irises looked almost feline.

He stole one more kiss from you before he hoisted you over his shoulder like a sack of flour. He expected you to protest but you just grunted slightly at the impact and braced yourself as much as you could for what turned out to be a short commute to Steve's room. You were too turned on to question his method.

Steve deposited you on the bed and you scrambled up to your knees to pull him forcefully into another kiss where he stood. You started nipping and biting sucking at his earlobes, his jaw, his neck, his chest.

Steve felt almost overwhelmed. This the hottest thing that had ever happened to him. You two were feral for each other and probably would have looked completely insane if you’d had an audience. Unlike his previous encounters, nothing about this felt stilted or transactional or lopsided.

In spite of how erotic it was, though, it also felt tender. Like this thread between you had been pulling taut for god knew how long before it had almost snapped. And as soon as you'd stopped resisting it, it pulled you into one another. He needed to be sure that you felt the same, though. He wouldn't risk another communication breakdown.

He pulled your face away from his neck by your hair and you looked startled but not displeased. Your lips curled into a dozy smile at the show of force. Steve was all business, though.

“How far do you want this to go?” You both chose to ignore the way his voice gave a little.

You swallowed as you stroked his chest. “Um, well, I really want you to make love to me but, like…I'll take whatever you give me.”

Steve closed his eyes in quiet supplication to whatever force was allowing this.

He smiled at you with his tongue poking at the back of his teeth. You returned it with a goofy giggle. God, you two were idiots.

“Game on then, baby,” Steve said.

Steve insisted on going down on you. You didn't strictly need it. You were so turned on that you could already feel that ache inside where you'd opened up to receive him.

You were almost worried that you might end up accidentally waterboarding him with your cunt for how wet you were already, but you needn’t have worried.

After he'd fluffed the pillows behind your shoulders and pulled your soaked panties off of you, he didn't waste a minute exploring down there with little kisses and bites to your thighs before he finally dove in and got to work. 

Within minutes he had you shivering and moaning, letting nonsense fuck language spill from your lips as you scratched his scalp in little circles. 

Steve was painfully hard in his shorts but he would have stayed down here for millenia if you'd let him.

Soon, you were gripping his wrist and writhing. Your legs were bent and rigid like a Barbie doll's but quaking with the intensity of your orgasm.

You let a sharp cry escape from your chest. It was high-pitched and wild and unguarded and it was the most beautiful sound Steve had ever heard.

He looked up at you. Your head was resting at an angle like it was too heavy for you to hold up. He let himself enjoy the sight. 

With your eyes still closed, as though you were in a deep trance, you started groping with your good hand, uncoordinated at your shoulders until you found the tie straps on your dress and undid them.

Without communicating it out loud, Steve pinched the fabric of your dress's bodice while you lifted up on your elbows so he could pull it down.

God, you were beautiful. Not just your tits. Yes, your tits were insane, but it was just you. Every inch of you, every plane on your body and, outside of your physical form, your gravity and orbit. He would never escape them and he didn't want to.

Steve crawled up your body, leaving smooches up your tummy and along your breasts and neck until he got to your mouth. You pulled him into you, kissing him stupid.

“Off,” you said bossily, breaking the kiss. Tugging at his collar. “These, too,” you insisted, pinching the cuff of his jeans between your toes.

Steve chuckled and pulled the shirt over his head. He got to work on his belt, kissing the tip of your nose.

“You want it like this?” he asked, indicating the missionary position you were in.

He got his belt free and shimmied his jeans away and down the bed, not wanting to leave you.

You bit your lip, eyes cast down lustfully, and Steve noticed you were checking out the tent in his boxers. 

He snickered. “My eyes are up here.”

You giggled at him, flicking his nose.

You two settled into a cozy silence and just stared at each other. You cleared your throat. “My favorite is being on top, usually,” you began. “But it might be hard with this.” You lifted your casted arm.

Steve deliberated for a moment. You could have told him you liked it upside down on a hammock and he would have found a way to make it so. But the thought of you riding him was making his dick weep. He would make that so, no problem.

“Teenie-on-top it is.” He gave your naked thigh a couple of light slaps. “Up,” he instructed.

You pushed up onto your knees as he leaned over to his nightstand, extracting a loose condom packet. He stood up and pulled his boxers down. 

When he looked at you, you were sitting on your haunches, knees splayed wide. Your arms were limp at your sides, hair a fucked out mess. You stared at his cock with what looked to him like reverence, mouth agape. 

“Oh, Marone,” you whispered to yourself with a gulp, fisting your hair at the scalp.

Steve snorted. You were so cute it made his chest hurt. He explained his plan as he ripped the condom foil open and rolled it over his cock.

“I'm going to hold you up so you don't put weight on the arm. I've got you, just trust me, ‘kay?”

He didn't know if you'd been paying attention to what he said. You sprung up on your knees and collapsed into him and gave him a searing kiss on the mouth. “‘Kay.”

Steve slid into bed and guided you by your hips to straddle him. You held your casted arm off to the side, balancing like you were getting into a rowboat as you braced your good hand on his forearm.

“Good?” he asked.

You hummed as you began moving yourself over his cock. Steve's breath hitched, but he kept his grip on your hips firm as you acquainted your bits with his. 

Your slickness and his spit had cooled a little but soon he could feel a pool of warmth. He was at your entrance. Your skirt was ruched around your waist, the straps of it hanging limply. His favorite dress.

You locked eyes with him as you reached between you and guided him inside. You sheathed him in inside you completely, pretty much immediately. No adjustment period needed. Your body had waited long enough. 

Both of you had done so much waiting.

You rocked your pelvis against him, getting used to the sensations. It felt like coming home, it felt so right.

Steve’s cock was like a pleasure-seeking missile. It found enclaves in your body that you'd never have discovered on your own. 

Your cunt hugged him, letting you and him both know how rich the landscape of your body was. You could feel everything and everything felt so good. 

Steve was still holding onto your hips but he was squeezing his eyes shut and writhing and moaning. You really fucking knew what you were doing. Or maybe this was just a long time coming. Maybe it was destined.

The sounds of his moans were like a cool drink of water on the hottest day of the year. You wanted the sound bottled. You wanted to bathe in it.

You braced your good hand on his chest and gripped his elbow with the other as you changed up the angle and pace. He was caressing your g-spot now and when you moaned loudly at the sensation, he gripped you tighter, encouraging you to devour that feeling. Your clit found his mons and pretty soon, playtime was over.

You were both panting and moaning and before you knew it, you were right there. Your pussy was fluttering. Steve's stomach was taut, his upper body having gone rigid. His face was red and the veins in his forehead were prominent with his exertion. He was trying to delay his own orgasm until you were ready.

You folded over then, collapsing forward and cradling his head between your upper arms. Electric bubbles of happiness fizzed in every part of your cunt, sending effervescent kisses up your spine and down to your toes. You thought your broken arm might have healed, even.

“FuckStevieBaby,” you whined, pressing your forehead into the dip of his shoulder.

Steve was a goner. He moaned your name pathetically as he pistoned his hips up into you, helped by the wetness of your cum. Heat lightning overtook his body as he felt himself spill inside the condom and he saw sparkles.

Your skin was pasted to his with sweat.

You shakily made yourself up to a seated position and looked down at him like you were getting to see the Northern Lights for the first time. 

He returned the gaze. Except to him, you were the Northern Lights and the Milky Way and a lofty angel with wings of purple fire. Jesus, when did he get so poetic?

He sat up and wrapped you in his arms, kissing you and pulling you into a hug. It wasn't unlike the ones you'd shared before, nudity notwithstanding. 

It was a hug that said hi, I'm here, I've got you, always. 

You let your heart rates ramp down before he lifted you off his softening member, but keeping you in his lap. He drew circles on your sweaty back.

“I love you,” he said into your collarbone.

Your heart did a little dance in your naked chest.

“I love you, too. More than anything.”

Steve pulled you both down and situated it so you were both laying on your sides, facing the other. He clasped your hand in his.

“No, I mean I love you.” It was emphatic despite the sleepiness in his voice. “I'm in love with you and I want to keep you. I want us to do this. I want people to know we belong to each other.” 

If anyone else on planet earth had said those words to you after you'd just fucked, it would have sounded like cro magnon-freshly-emptied-balls possessiveness.

But not with him. It's like you could see tomorrow in his beautiful brown eyes. You two were finally, blessedly on the same page.

“I've belonged to you since…” you rolled your eyes upward like you were thinking, when really you actually knew… “Halloween ‘84.”

Steve smiled at your confirmation. But also in bemusement.

“The night me and Nancy-”

“It was when I was on your bed,” you interrupted. “Right here in this spot. I was rolling up the sleeves of that stripey old man PJ shirt you loaned me.”

“I remember,” he whispered, swallowing the emotions bubbling up.

“I saw you looking at me and for just a second, I let myself think…”

You had let yourself think, this feels so easy. I'm about to spend the night in a boy's bed for the first time and it feels so easy. What if he wasn't heartbroken? What if he didn't think you were a freak? What if you'd done this a before in a thousand and one lifetimes? That's how easy it felt.

“I never stopped being yours, Stevie.”

He scooched closer, ran his index finger down the bridge of your nose, kissing you one more time.

“I hope you never do.”

“I never will.”

Steve got a faraway look in his eye as he looked past your shoulder. 

He didn't want to burst this bubble, but if he felt this way now, what would it be like less than two years from now. Less than two years away.

You clocked it immediately, you little mind-reader. 

You couldn't let him stew in his fear anymore. You hadn't meant to drop the subject before, but you had the pressing matter of showing him how much you loved him to attend to.

“I'm not going back, you know.” 

His eyes shot to you, suddenly way more alert.

“How-”

“Creel.”

Steve propped himself up on his elbow and studied you. You never brought this up. In fact, if any of your family's little misadventures ever came up in conversation, even briefly, you would excuse yourself from the room. Everyone learned to keep that talk to a minimum around you.

Besides that, Steve didn't like talking about when you'd been Vecna’d. It had been in the same manner as Nancy had been. Not meant to destroy you but to show you things. When the group had asked you what you saw, you simply told them “me.”

At the time, you had made the executive decision that what you had been shown wasn't valuable to any fact-finding that would help you defeat your foe. And when you were pressed for more, when Dustin had accused you of a party infraction by withholding, you'd leveled him with a deadly glare and stated “Not this, Dustin. Not now.” You had been so uncharacteristically severe that everyone silently agreed to leave it.

You turned over on your back and stared at the ceiling. 

“Before Spring Break, I was having a really hard time.”

Steve remembered. The recesses of his memory held images of you looking off into the distance, refrains of sorry, what? whenever you got caught out. 

You'd buried yourself in schoolwork, picking up extra shifts at the bowling alley, packing your calendar with babysitting gigs. Like you were trying to erase every moment of idle time, pulling away from everyone.

Steve had worried but when he talked about it with Robin, she'd dismissed it as paranoia. Think about it, Steve, what's she's been through. It catches up. 

He figured Robin might know something he didn't, hurtful though it was. He'd dropped it.

“You were dating around and Nancy was missing Jon. El was gone, Hop was gone. Max was totally checked out. And I started wondering, like..”

Your eyes were wet, now, voice a little choked. Steve brushed your cheek and that seemed to give you the resolve to keep going.

“I started to worry that I would never find someone that could really know me. That I couldn't ever really move on and grow up because the people that did know me were all…” 

You gestured vaguely into the air.

“I felt so out of place all of a sudden. And for the first time since I got here I just wanted to go back. I wanted to go back to where I made sense. Even though I didn't like my life before…”

Steve's heart broke at the thought that you'd felt so abandoned. He could kick himself for being so flip about it back then.

Your story took you over then. It was so cemented in your mind, it might have been inscribed on tablets.

You'd blinked. One minute you were at the mouth of the gate. The next minute you were in some sort of cathedral. But it was in ruins. The exposed sky was red. The air was stale..lightning flashed a deeper crimson across the sky.

There were pews made of shaley stone. What would have once served as a wall was crumbled around the arrangement.

He stood at the pulpit, a stone monument, cracked with angry looking clefts glowing with smoldering fire. He clutched each side of it, staring you down.  

He breathed your name in a dulcet huff. 

“You don't belong. You belong nowhere. You're a reprobate. Abominable. An orphan in time.”

He was hideous. And massive. You hadn't seen him until now. You'd only heard conjecture on what his visage might look like.

He was slimy and twisted and hairless. The sinews of his skin were a swampy gray, eyes ringed with red. For his florid yet cruel indictment of you, he was foul. You could taste him just by looking at him.

You were paralyzed with revulsion and fear. You were worried that you might actually pee your pants.

“You have nowhere to return to. You absconded from your problems, as you've always done. But I have nothing but good news for you.” 

You glanced around, not daring to move your head. You only saw more waste, more nothingness, more anger and despair scratched into the landscape that surrounded you. You wanted to go home.

Suddenly you knew where home was. It had never been so clear. It was with the people that had held and kept you since you'd been sucked through a leak in space-time.

“You can make a home here. You can join my menagerie. You'll never suf-”

“Don't listen to him, Ladybug,” came a sharp, familiar voice behind you, coated in the accent of her mother country.

You spun to meet her eyes...Your grandmother was sitting on one of the rock pews. She looked as elegant and warm as ever. She was wearing the satin wrap dress she wore to Easter mass the last year she was alive.

You stumbled over to her. She stood and opened her arms as you fell into her.

Suddenly you forgot that you were in a red-tinged hell scape with a slimy vampire at your back. Wherever this was, wherever she was, was a sort of paradise.

You held her tight. You could smell her familiar shalimar perfume over the fetid ozone stink of this place. The wings of her upper arms were soft in the crooks of your elbows. She shushed your crying and stroked your hair.

It was her. You knew, beyond what it was to know, that it was her.

You heard Creel growl behind you, startling you out of your grandmother's arms. She held fast to you and tilted your chin to look at her. You heard the air around you twist like warped steel, Creel’s voice laced through it, muddled and distorted to something imperceptible.

“He is a liar. He will lie to deceive you.” Her accent made it sound like “day-seef.” 

You missed her. You missed the way she talked. You missed how severe she was when she wanted to make a point.

She'd found you. Outside of time and space and a living vessel, she'd found you in this hopeless place.

Her eyes burned into yours. “Your father is fine. He knows you are fine. He doesn't know how he knows, but I've seen to it.”

You could hear that desperate argumentative groaning trying to pierce through. Your head was hurting. You had pressure in your ears.

“Your place is with your friends. Never stop thinking of them and you will never lose.”

The world around you started to crumble and fall away. You saw those big spires of rock around you crash into the ground.

You gripped her hands that held your face. “I love you,” you sobbed.

She smiled at you as everything caved in. You closed your eyes and felt her kiss your forehead. 

When you opened them again, you saw Steve. He was cradling you and hyperventilating. He seemed to register that you were back. Relief washed over his face and his breathing returned to normal.

“Did I pee my pants?” 

Steve had the courtesy to glance down to your upper-thigh region.

“If you did, it must not have been a lot.”

You broke into a sob and let him hug you while your friends rallied to get you away from the gate.

From then on out, you heeded your grandmother’s advice. You never stopped thinking of your friends and you didn't fail…You got Hop and El back. 

You had your friends.

You had Steve.

You had shut your eyes while telling Steve the story but you opened them now. You turned your head to face him.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you,” you told him through tears. “I didn't know how.”

Steve didn't know what to say. He stared at you with gentle eyes. He didn't want you to cry anymore. 

He kissed you lightly and stroked your side. “It's okay. I get it.”

He did get it. He understood all at once why you couldn't tell them back then. You didn't want to make it about you. 

Max was still in danger. The world was still in danger. You'd been gifted a secret weapon that you had to wield and you didn't want anyone to hear what you'd seen and tell you that you'd been bamboozled by Creel and blunt your weapon with doubt. 

You'd known in your heart that it was real. Steve knew now because you knew. 

You were tired then. Well and truly sleepy. Steve accepted you into his arms.

You two fell into silence, breathing in tandem, stroking each other.

You felt Steve's chin wag on the top of your head when he asked “What do you think will happen on your 20th birthday?”

You smiled into his chest. You loved that Steve-flavored curiosity whenever it showed itself.

“I dunno, Stevie. Maybe nothing. But if anything does, you'll be there to find out with me, right?”

He scratched lines up your back as he answered.

“Can’t wait.”

(⁠/⁠^⁠-⁠^⁠(⁠^⁠ ⁠^⁠*⁠)⁠/

[peach-and-bugs]

Masterlist

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

characters that I write for are organized in alphabetical order by fandom and by name. links will lead to my complete list of posted work for said character:

willing to write for characters: romantically (➵ ) platonically (✸) or nsfw (✧)

Character Alphabets (sfw ✸ & nsfw ✧)

Ask Box Headcanons and Blurbes

Agents of shield

Bobbi Morse ✸ ➵ ✧

Daisy Johnson/Quake ✸ ➵ ✧

Jemma Simmons ✸ ➵ ✧

Jiaying ✸ ➵ ✧

Leo Fitz ✸ ➵

Malinda May ✸ ➵ ✧

Phil Coulson ✸ ➵

Chilling Adventures of Sabrina 

Hilda Spellman ✸ ➵ ✧

Madam Satan/Lilith ✸ ➵ ✧

Sabrina Spellman ✸ ➵

Zelda Spellman ✸ ➵ ✧

Doctor Who

Amy Pond ✸ ➵ ✧

Bill Pots ✸ ➵

Clara/Clara Oswald/Oswin ✸ ➵ ✧

Eleven/Smith!Doctor ✸ ➵

Jack Harkness ✸ ➵

Missy/Gomez!Master ✸ ➵ ✧

River Song/Melody Pond ✸ ➵ ✧

Simm!Master ✸ ➵

Thirteen/Whittaker!Doctor ✸ ➵ ✧

Twelve/Capaldi!Doctor ✸ ➵

Five Nights at Freddy (movie)

romantic (➵) platonic (✸) nsfw (✧)

Mike Schmidt ➵ ✸

William Afton ➵ ✸

Vanessa Shelly/Afton ➵ ✸ ✧

Killing Eve 

Eve Polastrí ✸ ➵ ✧

Villanelle ✸ ➵ ✧

The Legend Of Korra

Asami Sato ✸ ➵ ✧

Bolin ✸ ➵

Bumi ✸ ➵

Izumi ✸ ➵ ✧

Korra ✸ ➵ ✧

Kuvira ✸ ➵ ✧

Kya ✸ ➵ ✧

Kyoshi ✸ ➵ ✧

Lin Beifong ✸ ➵ ✧

Mako ✸ ➵

Opal ✸ ➵

Tenzin ✸ ➵

The Last Of Us (Games)

Abby Anderson ✸ ➵ ✧

Dina ✸ ➵ ✧

Ellie Williams ✸ ➵ ✧

Joel Miller ✸ ➵

Tommy Miller ✸ ➵

Marvel 

Agatha Harkness ✸ ➵ ✧

Bucky Barns/Winter Soldier ✸ ➵

Bruce Banner ✸ ➵

Carol Danvers/Captain Marvel ✸ ➵ ✧

Darcy Lewis ✸ ➵ ✧

Drax ✸ ➵

Gamora ✸ ➵ ✧

Hela Odendottir ✸ ➵ ✧

Hope van Dyne/Wasp ✸ ➵ ✧

Jane Foster/Mighty Thor ✸ ➵ ✧

Kate Bishop ✸ ➵ ✧

Layla El-Faouly/Scarlet Scarab ✸ ➵ ✧

May Parker ✸ ➵ ✧

Mantis ✸ ➵ ✧

Maria hill ✸ ➵ ✧

Monica Ranbough ✸ ➵ ✧

Natasha Romanov/Black Widow ✸ ➵ ✧

Nebula ✸ ➵ ✧

Okoye ✸ ➵ ✧

Peggy Carter/Captain Carter ✸ ➵ ✧

Peter Parker/Spider-Man ✸ ➵

Sam Wilson/Falcon/Captain America ✸ ➵

Scott Lang/Ant-man ✸ ➵

Sharon Carter/Powerbroker ✸ ➵ ✧

Sylvie Laufeydottir ✸ ➵ ✧

Thor Odenson ✸ ➵

Valkyrie ✸ ➵ ✧

Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch ✸ ➵ ✧

Yelena Belova ✸ ➵ ✧

Parks and Recreation 

Ann Perkins ✸ ➵ ✧

April Ludgate ✸ ➵ ✧

Donna Meagle ✸ ➵ ✧

Jennifer Barkley ✸ ➵ ✧

Leslie Knope ✸ ➵ ✧

Star Wars 

Ahsoka ✸ ➵ ✧

Captain Phasma ✸ ➵ ✧

Finn/FN-2187 ✸ ➵

General Hux ✸ ➵

Han Solo ✸ ➵

Leia Organa ✸ ➵ ✧

Luke Skywalker ✸ ➵

Padmé Amidala ✸ ➵ ✧

Rey ✸ ➵ ✧

Rose ✸ ➵ ✧

Stranger things  

Argyle ✸ ➵

Chrissy Cunningham✸ ➵

Dustin Henderson ✸ ➵

Eddie Munson ✸ ➵

El/Eleven/Jane ✸ ➵

Erica Sinclair ✸

Jim Hopper ✸ ➵

Johnathan Byers ✸ ➵

Joyce Byers ✸ ➵ ✧

Karen Wheeler ✸ ➵ ✧

Lucas Sinclair ✸ ➵

Max Mayfield ✸ ➵

Murray Bauman ✸ ➵

Nancy Wheeler ✸ ➵ ✧

Steve Harrington ✸ ➵

Will Byers ✸ ➵

misc.

Alma LeFay Peregrine (mrs peregrine's home of peculiar children)✸ ➵ ✧

Elizabeth Corday (ER) ✸ ➵ ✧

Laura DeMille/Madame Rouge (Doom Patrol) ✸ ➵ ✧

Lily Lebowski (Crossing Jordan) ✸ ➵ ✧

Marilyn Thornhill/Laurel Gates (Wednesday) ✸ ➵ ✧

Millie Rusk/MolotovGirl (Free Guy) ✸ ➵ ✧

Miranda Croft (The Flight Attendant)✸ ➵ ✧

Dr. Olivia Octaviouse (Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse)✸ ➵ ✧

Yellowjackets

Jackie Tayler (1996) ✸ ➵

Laura Lee (1996) ✸ ➵

Lottie Mattews (1996/2021) ✸ ➵ ✧

Misty Quigley (1996/2021) ✸ ➵ ✧

"Nat" Natalie Scatorccio (1996/2021) ✸ ➵ ✧

Shauna Sadecki (1996/2021) ✸ ➵ ✧

Taissa Turner (1996/2021) ✸ ➵ ✧

Travis Martinez (1996/2021) ✸ ➵

"Van" Vanessa Palmer (1996/2021) ✸ ➵ ✧

[dianneking]

Fanfiction Masterlist

Mainly in the Gwendoline Christie fandom & adjacent. 

 Requests are open, but I am slow at writing, so it might take a while to get to it.

You can also find most of my fics on my AO3 profile, DragonMist.

Ongoing weekly writing challenge masterpost.

Collections: 10 Days of Gwen Goodbyes  (100-word angsty drabbles with Gwendoline Christie’s main characters)

(Wednesday fandom) ------------

Larissa/Reader

- Entwined Destinies - Oneshot, gn! Reader is an empath and a teacher |Tumblr  Also on  AO3

- Intoxicated - Two-shot, gn! Reader is a vampire and a teacher. Drunkennes, angst and drama |Part 1 - Part 2  Also on  AO3

- Dangerous Games - Oneshot, gn!Reader is not jealous. Larissa tries to prove them wrong. Angst. | On Tumblr and AO3

- Nightmares - Fluff & Comfort fic, established relationship | also on AO3

-  She - Songfic based on Dodie's song, angst, larissa x Librarian!Reader - also on AO3

- I wish I knew (you wanted me) - Oneshot, mutual pining. Larissa announces her engagement, Reader thinks something’s off| also on AO3

-Loving You (Amandoti) - Sad! Angst, hurt no comfort. Songfic.  Larissa’s wife waits for her on their anniversary, but Larissa won’t come home | also on AO3 

-Breaking the Silence - Angst with a happy ending, Hurt/Comfort. R! wants answers. | also on AO3 

- The Affair - Morally Ambiguous Larissa x Teacher Reader. Multichapter. | Also on AO3

Larissa/Marilyn|Laurel

- Surprising Like Good Coffee On A Bad Day- Longfic (30k+ words), coffee-shop AU, slow burn, COMPLETE! | Only on AO3

-Jealousy (I Could Be A Better Boyfriend Than Him) One-Shot, Angst, Jealous!Larissa |  also on AO3

- SOS One-Shot, Fluff, Flustered Larissa| also on AO3 

- All in her head One-shot Post-canon Fix-it. Laurel is visited in the hospital by Larissa | also on AO3. 

- The Disease - Hanahaki trope with not-really-unrequited love b/t Laurel and Larissa | also on AO3. 

Morticia/Larissa

- Shapes of Love - Longfic AU (SW!Larissa x RichWidow!Morticia), COMPLETED | Only on AO3 

 Marilyn/Reader/Larissa 

- Between Them (There is no Space)- Two-shot, angst and feels. | Tumblr Part I Part II Also on AO3

Marilyn/Reader

- Secret Admirer - Oneshot, Ungendered Reader, Angst, jealous Marilyn and protective parental figure Larissa. From an anon request | also on AO3 

- In Sickness - Minishot, slice of life. Marilyn takes care of sick SO reader | On Tumblr only.

- Running yourself to the ground - Oneshot, Hurt/comfort, Platonic. TW: Self harm | On Tumblr only.

- Spa Night - Oneshot, Fluff | On Tumblr

 Larissa/Morticia/Gomez

- First Evening Back - Oneshot, short fic, angsty polyamory negotiations, feels. | Only on AO3

- Larissa’s Gloomy Summer - Multichapter fic. 19k words| Polyamory negotiations, quirky with feelings. | COMPLETED | on AO3 only. 

Brienne of Tarth/ Reader (Game of Thrones) 

- Unrelenting Love - Songfic to Madeline by Kiki Rockwell, Epic Love | also on AO3 

- It’s not too late if we’re alive - WWII AU oneshot where Brienne is an officer, R is a nurse,,and they are former lovers | also on AO3 

-On The Seashore - Queerplatonic Prompt Fic - Brienne and R are adventurers together and there’s talk of settling down | also on AO3

- The Bet - Bookshop AU - Fluff and Angst with a happy ending | also on AO3

 Miranda Hilmarson (Top of the Lake: China Girl) 

- Hold me (I need to cry) - Robin Griffin x Miranda Hilmarson. Robin realizes her feelings for Miranda and breaks down into her arms | also on AO3 

- The Set-Up - Miranda x Reader | Mutual pining, idiots in love | also on  AO3

- In Her Arms - Robin x Miranda. Prompt: Queerplatonic Relationship. Angst and Fluff. | also on AO3 

Captain Phasma x Reader  (Star Wars)

- -Curiosity killed the cat - ...and satisfaction brought her back | two-shot NSFW smut | Only on Tumblr

- Daddy's girl | NSFW smut, sugar daddy Phasma | also on Ao3

Lucifer Morningstar (The Sandman) 

- Stranger in the Park | Lucifer x Reader post-breakup hurt/comfort fic| on AO3 

Rare Pairings & No Pairings

- Paradise - Larissa Weems/Valerie Kinbott - Fluffy angst - Valerie finds Larissa dancing in her office | also on AO3 

- Unscrupolous - Laurel Gates/ Sheriff Galpin - Darkfic, Emotional Manipulation. | only on AO3

- Time, and other hazy concepts - adult Wednesday / Larissa Weems | Weird, stream of consciousness fic | also on AO3 

- The Painter (Larissa Weems Snippet) - super short ficlet focused on Larissa’s past as a model for a painter. TW: Drug use mentions, off-screen death.| Only on Tumblr.

- New Teacher in Town (Larissa Weems x Melissa Schemmenti) | Crossover Wednesday/Abbott Elementary. | Mel is the new hire in Nevermore. Larissa has some issues with it.| also on  AO3

- Happy Birthday, Blondie! (Larissa x Melissa)  | Crossover Wednesday/Abbott Elementary. | Also on AO3

*****

It you’re only here for the fics and my ask games or rambles bother you, you can find more on how to avoid having them clutter your dash here!

Requests for Larissa, Marilyn, Laurel, Morticia (with potential Reader mixed in) fanfictions are open! Here are my rules/ what I'm not comfortable writing. Also, know that I write excruciatingly slowly, so it might take a while for me to get your request out.

[satansapostle6]

Characters I Write For

Please message me with any ideas/requests! I need ideas(short fics or series)

Mostly write for fem!readers. I can write fluff, angst, smut, etc. If I’m not comfortable with something I can let you know

Character/Actor List

Favorite Characters/Actors To Write For

Draco Malfoy, Weasley twins

Jesse Pinkman

Paul Dano characters

Josh Hutcherson characters

Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel

Damon Salvatore, Silas, Klaus Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson

Rodrick Heffley

Bellamy Blake

Ezra Fitz(should probably make it clear I don’t condone)

Ian Duncan(Community)

Charlie(It’s Always Sunny)

Luke Castellan, Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase

Finnick Odair

Tommy Shelby

Killian Hook

Paul Dano

Klitz(The Girl Next Door)

Dwayne Hoover(Little Miss Sunshine)

Edward Nashton(The Batman)

Calvin Weir-Fields(Ruby Sparks)

Brian Wilcox(Fast Food Nation)

Joby Taylor(For Ellen)

Nick Flynn(Being Flynn)

Josh Hutcherson

Peeta Mellark(The Hunger Games)

Mike Schmidt(FNAF)

Josh Futturman(Future Man)

Devon Bostick

Rodrick Heffley(Diary of a Wimpy Kid)

Jasper Jordan(The 100)

Cillian Murphy

Tommy Shelby(Peaky Blinders)

Dr. Jonathan Crane(The Dark Knight)

Neil(Watching the Detectives)

Christian Bale

Patrick Bateman(American Psycho)

Bruce Wayne(The Dark Knight)

Breaking Bad

Jesse Pinkman

Jane Margolis

Saul Goodman

Harry Potter(Golden Trio Era)

Harry Potter

Ron Weasley

Hermione Granger

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Ginny Weasley

Luna Lovegood

Neville Longbottom

Draco Malfoy

Pansy Parkinson

Blaise Zabini

Theodore Nott

Daphne Greengrass

Adrian Pucey

Terence Higgs

Harry Potter(Marauders Era)

James Potter

Remus Lupin

Sirius Black

Lily Potter

Severus Snape

Regulus Black

Lucius Malfoy

Narcissa Malfoy

Bellatrix Lestrange

Arthur Weasley

Harry Potter(Fantastic Beasts Era)

Newt Scamander

Queenie Goldstein

Leta Lestrange

Percy Jackson

Percy Jackson

Annabeth Chase

Luke Castellan

Thalia Grace

Jason Grace

+ Gods

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

Aaron Hotchner

Emily Prentiss

Derek Morgan

JJ

Penelope Garcia

David Rossi

Elle Greenaway

Cat Adams

Megan Kane

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

John Winchester

Mary Winchester

Castiel

Charlie Bradbury

Rowena McLeod

Adam Milligan

Lucifer

Ruby

Jessica Moore

Gabriel

Benny Lafitte

Bela Talbot

Jo Harvelle

Ellen Harvelle

Gilmore Girls

Lorelai Gilmore

Christopher Hayden

Luke Danes

Logan Huntzberger

Jess Mariano

The Hunger Games

Peeta Mellark

Katniss Everdeen

Gale Hawthorn

Finnick Odair

Johanna Mason

Haymitch Abernathy

Pretty Little Liars

Aria Montgomery

Spencer Hastings

Emily Fields

Hannah Marin

Mona Vanderwaal

Alison Di Laurentis

Jason Di Laurentis

Ezra Fitz

Toby Cavanaugh

Jenna Marshall

Caleb Rivers

The Vampire Diaries

Damon Salvatore

Stefan Salvatore

Katherine Pierce

Elena Gilbert

Jeremy Gilbert

Bonnie Bennett

Caroline Forbes

The Originals

Klaus Mikaelson

Elijah Mikaelson

Kol Mikaelson

Rebekah Mikaelson

Freya Mikaelson

Hayley Marshall

Marcel Gerard

Davina Claire

Twilight

Edward Cullen

Bella Swan

Alice Cullen

Jasper Hale

Rosalie Hale

Emmett Cullen

Victoria

The 100

Bellamy Blake

Octavia Blake

Jasper Jordan

Shameless

Fiona Gallagher

Lip Gallagher

Carl Gallagher

Frank Gallagher

Mandy Milkovich

Kevin Ball

Veronica Fisher

The Bear

Carmy Berzatto

Sydney Adamu

Richie Jerimovich

Suicide Squad

Harley Quinn

Rick Flag

Blackguard

Once Upon A Time

Emma Swan

Regina Mills

Killian Jones

Rumplestiltskin

Robin Hood

Ruby

Hades

Community

Jeff Winger

Abed Nadir

Annie Edison

Troy Barnes

Ian Duncan

It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia

Charlie Kelly

Dennis Reynolds

Dee Reynolds

Mac

Cricket

House MD

Greg House

Robert Chase

James Wilson

Lisa Cuddy

Parks and Recreation

Ben Wyatt

April Ludgate

Andy Dwyer

MCU, Marvel

Steve Rogers

Tony Stark

Natasha Romanoff

Bruce Banner

Wanda Maximoff

Loki Laufeyson

Peter Parker(Holland, Garfield, Maguire)

Gamora

Peter Quill

Scott Lang

Steven Strange

Jessica Jones

Wade Wilson

DC CW

Oliver Queen

Barry Allen

Felicity Smoak

Laurel Lance

Sara Lance

Malcom Merlyn

John Constantine

Leonard Snart

Ray Palmer

Caitlyn Snow

Julian Albert

Rip Hunter

10 Things I Hate About You

Patrick Verona

Cameron James

New Girl

Jess Day

Nick Miller

Schmidt

Other Characters

Charlie Kelmeckis(Perks Of Being A Wallflower)

Jesse Eisenberg Characters

Dr. Who(10th Doctor)

Will Probably Add More

[sadisticsongbird]

trust is a fragile thing ~ tyler galpin

parte uno

summary: wednesday’s back...and it seems so is the rest of the gang...with a few additions

warnings: nothing but language

word count: 2.7k

series masterlist

a/n: i’m really excited for this series you guys, probably more than I have for any other work i’ve done. it’s from multiple characters perspective (tyler/wednesday/you) throughout the piece so it gave me a little insight on writing in third person...sorta. anyways, thank you for the love on the teaser and part two should be coming out relatively soon... 🖤🖤🖤

Wednesday remembered the first time that she was in front of this school. She remembered how she dreaded having to be here, thinking up an escape plan the moment she set foot on the stone. Memories of last semester haunted her. She had let her guard down and it led many to be killed right under her nose. Had she not had her visions to rely on, Laurel Gates would have succeeded in killing all of the outcasts and Tyler, more than likely, would be dead. It was weird, the visions had since then not come back. They seemed to be out of control before her arrival at Nevermore the first time. But since the danger had passed and Goody had helped her control them a little more, Wednesday couldn’t remember the last time that she had a vision. She guessed that was a good thing. She maybe didn’t need them right now. Danger was, after all, gone. From what she knew, Gates was dead and Tyler was locked away. That was the only solace for her to come back. Wednesday Addams wasn’t the person to get nerves, but she couldn’t help but feel worse now that she was back. Not many people were gathered in the parking lot nor in the main square from what she could see. Lurch was behind her, holding her bags and waiting to assist her to her dorm. It had been a long time since she had talked to Enid, let alone seen her. They had become closer after the Crackstone events. Unfortunately, trust was still a rocky thing for Wednesday. 

She felt her phone buzz in her pocket, but left it alone. It was more than likely the number that she had tried to push aside the last few months that she was away. She didn’t want to spoil the mood considering it was a new semester, a new start. Most people knew her here, knew what she had done to save the school. She could only hope that it wouldn’t change anything. Folding her hands behind her back, she began walking away from the family hearse towards the entrance. Enid had told her just to come to the room, that they could meet there. She was glad that there were no soppy goodbyes this year. As much as she loved her mother and father and brother, emotions made little to no sense in situations like a farewell. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t see her again. At least they could hope. Making her way through the courtyard to Ophelia Hall, she observed the fact that the fountain that used to be in the center had been replaced with a statue of a man. It looked brand new and offered a similar resemblance to the one of Joseph Crackstone she burned down last year. It made her uneasy, but she ignored it nonetheless. Honestly, Wednesday couldn’t wait to get back to a regular routine. She would never admit it to her mother, but she missed being here. It made her feel normal in a world where she was an outcast, made her feel like a hero in a world where she was painted as a villain. Her mother had understood that, hence the right reasoning for sending her here in the first place. Again, another thing she would never admit out loud to her parent.  

She had made it to the spiral staircase that smelled of mildew that would take her to her hall of dorms. Lurch was still trailing behind her, her giant trunk of stuff and typewriter sitting on top still intact. She only hoped that they were assigned the same room as last semester. Wednesday enjoyed the window to the balcony. She was allowed to practice her music in peace, and although it allowed for an easy escape in the middle of the night, it was an escape from the realities of school and monsters that seemed to be a pattern in Jericho. Right as she was about to begin the climb, she heard a door slam coming from the top of the stairs. Not even a few seconds later, someone came flying around the corner, bumping right into her. The girl fell on top of her as they both fell to the floor. 

“Oh my god, I’m so so sorry. Are you okay?” the girl freaked out. “Making lasting impressions already, damn it!” she then whispered to herself.  

Wednesday pushed the girl off of her and stood up, wiping the dust off of herself. “Relax. A little bruise never killed anyone. You should start watching out where you’re going, though. Might help cause a few less crashes.”

The stranger chuckled, barely coherent, but loud enough for Wednesday to register. They both were silent for a moment before the butler behind them grunted. 

“Well, I guess I’ll get out of your way. Again sorry about it…”

“Wednesday.”

“Wednesday. I like it. Fits you.” Without another word, the mystery girl bolted off through the hall and out the door. 

Wednesday didn’t fail to notice that the girl didn’t recognize her. It was kind of nice, starting over with someone. Maybe this new semester wouldn’t be so bad after all.

White. 

For as long as he could remember being here, all he remembered was white. White clothes, white room, white furniture. The only glimpse of color he got to see was when they shoved food through his door. Even then, the only color was a browned up banana or a dark pile of gruel. The guards posted outside his door and the people that would come in only to draw blood, hey another glimpse of color, were all dressed white. Immediately after his father had shot him, all Tyler remembered was waking up with blood running down his side and this time, it was his. He could recall bits and pieces of how he got here, like his father carrying him to a light, one that he knew now to be a truck, one that would take him here. But since then he’s been in this room, in an insane asylum of sorts. Tyler barely moved inside the room, keeping his face toward the door at all times. Even if he did want to get up, the straitjacket around him proved difficult to stand up without assistance. The straitjacket was a precaution, he guessed, in case he turned into the hyde. He would do it out of even his control now that Laurel had died. At least that’s what everyone had been telling him. But he could feel something within the hyde. 

Something that knew the bond between master and hyde. 

Regardless, the straitjacket kept him from doing the Tyler things while also protecting the people outside the door from hyde things. He was kept on 24 hour watch, blood drawn countless times, including right after transforming into the hyde. Scientists wanted to figure out how the transformations worked through DNA, but from what he knew, it was purely psychological. A form of mind control on the master's part. He remembered what it felt like to be in the presence of Laurel at first. After the hyde was first unlocked, even though he didn’t remember it clearly, Laurel had a very powerful hold on him. The thoughts in his head weren’t his, the voice giving him commands belonging to the woman in front of him. They were battling inside his mind, but everytime the hyde took over, it gave the woman the upper hand. That was mostly how he could tell that Gates was hopefully alive somewhere. The thoughts in his head still didn’t belong to only him. But could that just be time? Could that control have just rubbed off on him and now his thoughts would never be the same? And even if it did mean that Laurel was possibly alive, would that be the best thing? He enjoyed the hyde because it was almost like a connection with his mother, but he ended up hurting people in the process. He wasn’t like that before and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be any different now that he was, in a way, free. 

That freedom talk was short lived as a guard opened his door. Tyler picked up his head, the tiredness and non existent will to live clearly taking its toll on him. The guard was dressed in a suit, a needle in hand. Not surprising. However, the door was shut behind him. A little more surprising. The open door seemed to be what the guards kept eye contact with every time he made a movement. The closer that Tyler got a look at this man, he realized that he had never seen him before. 

“Don’t worry,” the man spoke. “Just a precaution,” he finished, tucking the needle in one of his pockets. 

Tyler stared at the man. Although his face was clearly worn, the darkness in his eyes didn’t falter. If he had to have one more needle poked into the side of his neck…

“So, I’ve heard you don’t talk much, especially since you’ve gotten here,” the man said, sauntering forward. “And that’s fine. All you have to do is listen.”

He didn’t move, only darkening his eyes at what more these people could possibly do to him. 

“Our experts here have been testing you since the moment you walked through the door. You’re a hyde, something that the Jericho community has grown to fear, including the faculty at Nevermore. However, there is only reason to fear when there is someone in control. Seeing as Laurel Gates is dead, she has no control over you, hence no more unnecessary killings.” Tyler adjusted slightly at the mention of his old master’s name, one that he had both grown to admire and hate. “The tests on you have shown us that you transform when anger becomes the key emotion in your brain. And as shown here in our facility, you have proved to be able to calm down on your own. Now, this may not be the best idea, but our highest officers on this case have decided to take you back out as long as you have someone watching over you. It will be a way for us to see how the hyde reacts in the real world, if the reaction will be the same as here.”

The darkness in Tyler’s eyes disappeared in a flash, quickly replaced by hope. Happiness, maybe. 

“Now, granted, your father may have had some word in this. Outcasts are a huge fear not just here in Jericho, but in the entire world. Word of a monster that kills violently with only the word from someone, Jericho and all of its citizens could be in danger.”

Tyler opened his mouth to speak, only a rasp coming out. He cleared his throat once more before beginning to speak again. “So if I go, what does that mean? Who would be babysitting me as you so nicely put it?”

“Tyler, you will be enrolling at Nevermore, effective tomorrow.”

“Where are we going?” Wednesday heard Bianca whisper to her from behind. 

“I don’t know. Our dorm leader said something about a new headmaster. Since Weems is gone, they needed to find one for next semester,” Enid replied, her new wolf-hearing picking up on it. 

“Whatever it is, they better make it quick.”

Wednesday was upset, between Lurch making her late to the lengthy welcome that Enid deemed necessary, she didn’t have nearly enough time to unpack before this announcement. Thankfully, Thing stayed back in the room to finish some final details. 

Students were shuffling into the courtyard, the different cliques gathering around their ‘assigned’ tables. Everyone was evidently upset in some way, shape, or from that this meeting was interrupting their schedule. The anger and power that radiated off of everyone made her excited. Being home with her parents and brother had been rather boring, considering the events that had taken place before. It was good to be back. Trouble of some sort was brewing and she was ready for it. 

A tap on a microphone, causing feedback, made silence rush through the student body. A man, a tall one at that, stood on the balcony of the second floor, looking down at everyone. He had an intense stare, one that could break you if you stared too long. He showed no general emotion to the crowd nor to any of the army-looking men standing beside him. 

“Good afternoon,” he began. “As many of you might know, your previous headmaster, Larissa Weems, is no longer with us. My team and I have taken great lengths for you to be able to be here this semester. As of right now, Nevermore is still without leadership. However, I have taken it upon myself to look after the school as the search continues. We know that troubles in the past that have led to these circumstances were not done in Nevermore’s name…”

“Where is he going with this?” Ajax leaned over to Enid. 

“...But because outcasts seem to be the root of the problem, the government sees fit that someone be watching over the school and its students. Just as a precaution.” “What does he mean ‘the root of the problem?’ Normies were the root of the problem, them not being okay with us,” Bianca said. 

“So, my family and I will be staying at the school, not because you are in trouble of any sort, but because we want to help.” Scoffs were heard amidst the entire group. The man turned around and raised his hand slightly, only enough for the people in the back to see. He returned his gaze to the crowd, but this time, he wasn’t looking down alone. The girl from earlier, the one that Wednesday had bumped into, stood next to the man. 

“This is my daughter. She won’t be attending here, however she will be staying here. Please give her a warm welcome.” The crowd stayed silent.

The girl raised her head only a little higher. She was a shy one. She scanned the crowd trying to get a grip on the life that she would be living from now on. When she spotted Wednesday, she let out a little sigh of relief. 

“Dismissed,” the booming voice finished. 

Wednesday turned around to face the rest of the group, waiting for her to say something. 

“So what are we gonna do?” Xavier asked. 

“We do nothing,” Ajax said. “You heard him. We’re on watch. Anything suspicious and outcasts would be taken away.”

“We can’t just sit here and do nothing. Normies started the whole hyde thing last year. Are we supposed to sit back and wait for another monster to come out of the shadows that could possibly do something worse?” Bianca argued. 

Enid looked to Wednesday, who had yet to say something. Truth be told, she didn’t know. As much as she wanted to agree with Bianca and make a point, there was nothing they could do without ruining what little protection they had left from the outside world. The Wednesday from last semester wouldn’t have questioned it, but the new Wednesday had let her guard come down, had let emotions guide her decisions, allowing almost all outcasts to be eradicated. 

“Ajax is right,” she finally spoke up. “We have to play it safe.”

She made eye contact with Xavier across the way. She recognized the disappointment in his eyes. It was the look he gave her when she visited him in the jail cell shortly before everyone's departure. They hadn’t talked since they got here, but Xavier was an open book. He was upset with the decision she made. Wednesday turned around and began making her way back to Ophelia Hall. It didn’t take long for her to hear Enid trailing behind her. 

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” Enid asked once more. Wednesday didn’t enjoy all of this questioning. 

“I’m sure.” 

They walked in silence, Enid still trailing behind, for a while. A buzz in her pocket disturbed Wednesday’s stride. Pulling out her phone, she saw a new notification from the same unknown numbers that had bombarded her all break. Next to a blurry picture of the crowd that she had been standing in not even five minutes ago was a text. 

‘Welcome back, Wednesday.’

[bigxrig]

Books

Laurels and Liquor by Thora Woods

A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas

Fics

Butterflies and Delight by @sunshineandthemoonlight

Zayn points a stern finger at Louis and says, over the top of his beer, “You need to get laid.” He’s curled up in the deep seated armchair Louis had found on Freecycle last year, his wiry body wrapped in a Disney princess-themed blanket.

“You could get Grindr,” Liam chimes in.

Louis almost rolls his eyes at the absurdity of the suggestion. “I have a five year old daughter,” he replies, clutching his mug of tea. “I’m not getting Grindr.”

~

The one where Louis is new to Grindr, Harry loves wearing fun, quirky outfits, and Ziam are always around to convince Louis to take a chance at life. Featuring Harry’s terrible jokes, Louis as a single parent, and glittery drawings of swamp monsters.

soapy lace, let me embrace by MquietMiNd

You know when, in movies, there’s always this character who’s one step away from death? And as it’s nearing they can’t do nothing but pause and relive all of their life, the moments that changed them forever and brought them where they are, as they are. Well, that’s exactly how Louis feels. Feet stuck in place, stunned by the view of what Harry’s holding between his fingers, Louis can’t help but open and close his mouth, wordlessly cursing himself for all the stupid choices he made in his life which led to this moment.

The right words to describe how Louis feels at the sight of his lingerie in the grasp of the last person who needed to see them aren’t written in vocabularies yet.

Or, Louis is tired 24/7 but that doesn’t stop him from crushing over Harry, his neighbor. That is, until an unfortunate accident reveals Louis’ deepest and most well-kept secret.            

Apple of My Pie by @tommokat ​

He takes the tote bag and spins around, finding his destination across the park. He inhales a deep breath and begins the march forward. Or rather, the overly careful walk of which he’s overthinking every step. Is it possible to have a walk of shame before anything has actually happened? Probably not. He’s probably just making that up.

Nonetheless, he feels on edge, like everyone’s watching him make his way across the grass to a table that’s not his own, a place he shouldn’t be.

Until he meets the fair blue eyes of his dreams and all the anxiety just fades away.

can you build me a nest? by fearsparks // @onlythebravest​

“I was serious before, though,” Louis said when he turned back to Harry, reaching out to rest his hands on his hips. “Can you build me a nest?”

“Right. Why do you want a nest?”

Louis shrugged, then looked to the side. “I don’t know. I just…” He shrugged again.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.” Harry cupped Louis’ cheek. “Of course I can build you a nest. But if you want one for yourself, you should build it yourself.”

(Louis comes home after a long day and craves a nest, so he asks his boyfriend to build one for him.)

High Heels On, 'M Feeling Alive by @thebreadvansstuff​

Harry hears the click of the camera snapping his picture and decides to throw his head back for the next one. He cocks his hip a bit to create the illusion of curves and proudly shows the too-small high heels. He decides to go with the classic pose, hand above his hip bone and leg bent back.

The moment he lifts his leg behind himself, the heel comes in contact with hard metal and makes a screeching sound as it drags upwards. Harry jumps around to see a long scratch going up the passenger door of the car behind him, and slaps his open mouth with a hand. "Oh no."

×××

Or, Harry damages a car when drunkenly stumbling home after a fun night out with his friends. Feeling horribly guilty, he tries to find the owner and make it up to him.

Aqueous Transmission by @littleroverlouis​

Louis offers some relief to her pregnant wife, Harry. Then suggests something new.

Savings' What I Need by @jaerie​

We've all had those moments.  A flash of something on the side of the road, a swerve, an instinctual slam on the break pedal.  This is the story of the one time Louis' reflexes were just not quite quick enough and the beautiful white dog that was on the other side of the impact.   He just doesn't know that beautiful dog is Harry.

be the artist to my muse by @forthetherapy​

“I think I’m in love,” Harry says, flopping back to lay on the bench again.

Nick sighs and pats Harry on the head.

“There, there. You’ll forget him in a day or so.”

or

harry has been unsuccessfully pining over louis for a while now, he decides to take drastic measures to get the alluring artist to notice him.

Plant New Seeds by @hellolovers13​

L: i think i might have a watering ghost. There’s water on that plant and it sure wasn’t me

Z: 👻💦 either that or you’re just sleepwalking. Best guess is still the magical plant thing. Lemme know if you find your princess 😘

or

Someone was desperately trying to keep Louis' poor houseplant alive.

Put Your Love In A Bottle (And Send It My Way) by @tommokat​

Today was going to be a good day. Harry just knew it. He knew it was going to be a good day because today was the 28th day of the month. And the 28th days of the month were bottle days. And bottle days were Louis days.

night song by @ohpleaselarry​

Louis’ heart has made it’s decision. It belongs to Harry, in all of his terrifying, cowardly, amazing glory. Perhaps Harry can take it when this is all over, place Louis’ dead heart where his own should be. Proper poetic, that would be. Or perhaps he’ll let it rot right along with the rest of him, toss Louis away and laugh at the pitiful human who’s managed to fall for the wizard who only prays on the beautiful.

Whatever happens to Louis’ heart, he doesn’t care. It’s up to Harry now. It belongs to him; completely.

a Howl’s Moving Castle au

enchanted by @brightgolden​

“My close friends usually call me H,” Harry mumbles suddenly after Louis wraps up his story.

That’s unexpected. “Are you telling me I’m your close friend now?” Louis quips, squinting his eyes at Harry.

OR

Where Louis finally meets his neighbour. After a few conversations, he begins to realise he is too weak to resist the charms of the new mother and his six month old daughter.

some evening in springtime by delcisle // @eeveelou​

Fresh out of veterinary school, Louis moves to a sleepy small town in Texas to take over the local animal clinic. But his new life is quickly interrupted by a middle aged rancher with a bad leg and a mysterious past, who really needs Louis's yoga skills.

Flirting In A Sushi Restaurant by @littleroverlouis​

Bright green eyes slowly blink up at the ceiling and his glossy pink lips are frozen in a small smile. Louis’ eyes trail down from his tattooed collarbones, to his toned chest, and land on the leaf dotted with toro scallion rolls under his rosy nipples. He feels like a bit of a creep hovering a set of tongs over someone’s nipple, but was a sucker for a toro roll. A deep voice startles him as he grabs a second roll.

“Big fan of those I see.”

Louis jerks his hand back, the roll dropping from the tongs and landing on the model's arm with a dull plop.

“Shit, fuck,” Louis stutters.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. My name's Harry.”

Or sushi model Harry flirts with hungry Louis.            

Could We Live With Just A Taste? by @lululawrence​

“Green eyes…” Louis mused in the living room. “I swear I’ll come up with something that rhymes with that soon enough. I will.”

“Oh god, you’ve been smoking. I wouldn’t have come if I’d known you’d been smoking,” Nick moaned as he turned the corner fully and saw the way Louis was sprawled out on the sofa, his head in Harry’s lap as he poked his fingers into Harry’s dimples.

“Nicholas!” Louis cheered, sitting up. “We’ve not been smoking, but we are a little high. Just a bit. Sit here, sit here. I invited you, which means you’re mine tonight, not Harry’s. Got that?”

Nick looked at Harry with his eyes raised. “Am I usually young Harold’s possession? Here I was thinking I was my own person.”

Both Harry and Louis’ faces scrunched up in looks of distaste causing Niall to laugh.

“Possessive fuckers. Let’s just start the film.”

Or the one where Louis, Harry, and Nick all take awhile to figure things out, but they get there eventually.

no gettin through without you by @wannaremember​

Harry doesn’t know what to do anymore; there doesn't seem to be a point to his life. He shouldn't have kept Nick waiting for him - it wasn't fair to Nick.

hungry heart by raspberryoats

"So you're using me and my kitchen for a bigger paycheck?" Harry asks. "What do I get out of it?"

"What do you-" Louis parrots in disbelief. "I get a job that doesn't make me work ten hour shifts just to barely pay my rent while you get three meals a day cooked for you."

"So, what, you're like some glorified housewife?"

Housewife, personal chef, Louis doesn't care. Contract's signed and done; T's crossed and I's dotted. Louis will wear an apron and twirl his hair all pretty if that's what he wants. Even if the job feels more like some drawn out jail sentence, Louis hopes this isn't going to be a long summer.

breathe me in, breathe me out by @lunarheslwt​

Louis was just passing the autumn collection, when an unfamiliar but addicting scent tickled his nose. Cinnamon. He turned as he realised something.

He felt calm. Relaxed.

The permanent agitation that he carried was melting away the more he breathed in the scent, as faint as it was. Consumed by the crazed desire to seek out the specific candle, Louis began picking up candles and sniffing them madly, when a deep voice piped up, startling him.

“Uh, sir, we don’t allow candle fetishists in here.”

Louis froze mid sniff in mortification. Willing himself to not blush, he turned, a retort at the tip of his tongue. Except, it died in his throat as he took in the man before him.

“I uh,” Louis blurted out accidentally, temporarily rendered speechless by the frankly unfairly beautiful man before him. Only at the man’s grin widening did he regain his wits.

“You’re gonna kink shame me?”

Or, Louis is drawn into a quaint candle shop in his desire to find ways to soothe himself while struggling with touch depri. It takes him two more run-ins and with the lovely alpha sales assistant, and a drop, to figure out the source of the scent that imprints upon him and calms his omega. Idiots to lovers

something to dream about by @disgruntledkittenface​

Louis gives Harry something to dream about while she's gone.

more than a mic drop by @haztobegood​

i am easy to find by safetyfilm // @larrieblr​

“Am I bothering you?”

Louis doesn’t have to look up to know who it is, not by the voice. He takes out the final package from the mailbox, a fond grin on his face as he answers, “Love, you could never bother me.” He stacks the package in the crook of his elbow, and looks up, then his smile falls into confusion. “But - wait, you’re supposed to be at work?”

“I finished a meeting, took an early lunch,” is Harry’s excuse, as he comes up by Louis, but not entirely. As if he’d been afraid to touch him.

Louis isn’t one to be observant, but today, now, Harry’s caught his eye, and something tells him to look closer.

Or, where two people try to follow their dreams but time isn't on their side.

untitled i: a drabble by @berzerkshires​

A drabble: Harry's being loud, and Louis has to quiet her.

[jedinerd27]

“I hear the walls repeating, The falling of our feet, and It sounds like drumming” Morpheus x GN! Reader and Platonic!Calliope X GN!Reader

Chapter 1: Haberlea

Word Count: 1488

Summary: You meet a woman while waiting for Morpheus at the Park. As you sing a song from a video game you enjoy and explain the story, she seems saddened. Morpheus is angered by the flowers you bring him. Johanna comes by talking of a cult using a lyre of myth. You are reminded of your childhood and the loss of your father. Opening up about it to your new friend, and then to your lover, you find out they both lost a son. You have not connected the dots between them. However, by opening up, both Calliope and Morpheus grieve their son in a healthier way.

A/n: on my AO3

Pre establish Relationship, parental loss, child loss, Angst and comfort, pure angst, Morpheus learns to deal with feelings! References to Hades the game, and Hadestown(The title of the series is a lyric from the musical), and wine consumption. Reader Singing (such a cliche)

NEIL GAIMAN FOR THE LOVE OF GOD:DO NOT READ!

The park you frequented was beautiful Sunny with white fluffy clouds. The temperature was not too hot, nor cold. Fall was coming with the arrival of crisp leaves at your feet. Achilles was running around the empty field in front of you, chasing squirrels and birds to his heart’s content and pleasure.

You strummed the old acoustic guitar you had for many years.

“Farwell

To all earthy remains

No burns

No further debts to be paid

Atlas

Can rest his weary bones

The weight of the world

all fall away

in time”

Your voice was happy, relieved. The song you sang had two different tones, you choose the happier one. The one relieved that all their work was finished. That they could finally rest.

Then you heard clapping, looking up you saw a woman standing a few feet away. Dressed in blue jeans and a flowy white blouse. You had to blink a couple of times because you swear she’s wearing a golden laurel crown. You realize she’s wearing clips of the leaves to hold back her long brown hair

“I’m sorry for interrupting, but your song.” She starts, taking a few steps over to you, “It’s so beautiful.”

“Oh thank you, but it’s not… mine?” You start.

“Not yours" She raises an eyebrow at it.

“It’s from a video game, Hades” You don’t see how white her face gets as you reach for your phone, trying to pull off pictures of the game. “It’s about the son of Hades, Zagreus, trying to reach the mortal realm, to reunite with his mother Persephone. Along the way, he runs into different people from myths. This song was written for it. It’s signed by Eurydice and Orpheus. It’s fascinating. Both of them sign the song differently. Orpheus longs for the life both of them could have, but Eurydice sings it full of relief, that all the struggles of life are finally over. I- oh I’m sorry I’m rambling” You apologize, smiling awkwardly.

The woman in front of you seems to ground herself at the word jumble you had thrown at her. A soft smile upon her face.

“That is beautiful. A retelling of Greek mythology?”

“A mish-mash of a paragraph about a character we know little to nothing about really. I just have a love for those stories.” You sigh deeply remembering your childhood. Then you extend your hand as she’s standing at the edge of your picket blanket. “I’m ___”

“You can call me Cali.”

“Like California?” She nods a bit,

“Not quite, but close.”

“Got it.

“You enjoy the stories of old?”

“Oh ever since I was a child, my parents would read them to me instead of normal fairy tales. I had begged them to.

“Why?”

“I found a book and I wanted to know Why I could not see the and I quote- face of the snake lady. “ A chuckle comes out as you remember your mother’s confused face as you held the book out for her to take.

“What’s your favorite story?”

“Oh, Orpheus and Eurydice.” You state

“That- but that’s a tragic tale.” Her face looks so heartbroken, and you nod solemnly.

“It’s not partially the story being my favorite. It’s how my parents went about telling me. My mom would first read me the story, and my dad would listen. He had his phone out to record it. You see my dad had dyslexia, so reading was hard for him, even as an adult. So, he would listen to my mother tell the story, and then he would memorize it. Like how the epics were once told. Then, he found out that the epics sometimes had music played in the background. So he got this” You strum the strings of your guitar. A pleasant sound erupts. “I would be tucked in my bed, softest blankets, soft as coulds. He would strum tunes he felt that went with the scene he would speak aloud. When he didn’t have the guitar, he would be so animated. Arms flying everywhere, He always did stupid voices and- and then he died a few years later of cancer.” Your voice drops.

“I’m so sorry, “ Cali has now sat down on the edge of the blanket only a few feet away from you.”He sounds like a good father.”

“The best” You sign, “I’m sorry if I interrupted your walk. “

“Oh no you didn’t, Your melody reminded me of my son and me, I had to stop and listen.” She notices the flowers you had sitting beside you, the flowers you had brought for Morpheus. “Those flowers.”

It’s a sad tone, mournful you think to yourself.

“Oh yeah, Orpheus flowers” You muttered, picking up the flowers. The inside of the flower was white, but the petal’s outer shell was purple, and yellow pistils in the center. They had reminded you of the night sky, of your lover’s eyes, how they could span entire galaxies. “I am nothing but on brand. They're actually for my boyfriend"

Cali just stares at them, so you take one out of the about boutique and hold it over to him.

“Would you like one?” You ask politely. She had a calming presence, and you don’t know why, but you feel like she was safe, you can trust her.

“I know I can’t possibly take one. You brought them for your lover.” But, you extend it closer to her until she plucks it from your hands.

“Morpheus won’t mind if one is missing.” You smile.

“Morpheus?” An abrupt gasp.

“Yep, that’s his name.” You turn your head, hearing the putter patter of paws, as Achilles is now chasing after a raven.

 Matthew is here so that means... there he is.

There was your boyfriend, just making it over a hill of the park. Dressed from bottom to top in pitch black clothing. A vibrant red inside a glass bottle inside a grocery bag. Wine for the date. (There was something so human about an anthropomorphic personification of a concept doing domestic human shit.)

"I can introduce you if you would like-huh?"

Cali was gone when you turned back, along with the flower you had given her. Nothing remained as a breeze washed over the valley.

When Morpheus made it to your blanket, he leaned down and kissed your cheek.

“Hello, my love” he sits down next to you, smiling softly. Those were becoming more and more frequent.

“Hello to you, Morpheus. “ You smile at him. “I have a gift for you.”

“As do I, I brought wine.” He holds the bottle up proudly. It was a bottle of rosé, the label reads with hints of strawberries. “My sister recommended it.”

“Any wine Death likes, it’s good in my book. Oh, here. For you love” You hold out the bouquet and watch as his face contours from the soft smile to one almost rageful.

“Where did you get those?” His voice is  cold and unnerving. You feel your body freeze like a statue. “Where?”

"I bought them at a flower stand, they remind me of you. Are you okay? What wro-“

“Do you know the significance of those flowers?” He’s not looking at you, only the flowers, even when you pull them closer to your chest.

"Umm, they’re Orpheus flowers. My mom used to grow some.””Your voice is wavering with unnerve. “They’re named after Orpheus, and it was one of my favorite stories from childhood. Love, are you-‘”

"I- throw them away. I don not wish to look upon them a second longer" His voice is bitter and, did it his voice just crack?

“Morpheus-“ you plead

“No, darling please just throw them away” He holds eye contact with you. Finally. “It is something painful to me.”

He tilts your chin up with his hand, soft touches, but a firm and powerful grip.

You see in his eyes, they're watering, there is pain. He's almost crying.

"Okay” You sigh out and end up throwing them away in a nearby garbage can.

When you return, he's pouring out the wine into some glasses and has opened up the picnic basket.

Your golden retriever sits in his lap eating bits of a turkey sandwich that Morpheus feeds him. Content with the day. Matthew is actually pecking the scraps that fall unto the blanket.

"Do you want to talk about-"

"No my love. Not now. " He interprets, as he wipes his eyes.  "Let us just enjoy the day and the future that comes"

"Okay" As you sit down, you lean your head into his side-as he leans to you and leaves a soft kiss to your forehead-and bring a cup of wine up to your lips.

While it was a good wine, however there's a bitter aftertaste, as if the strawberry had turned rotten.

Morpheus doesn't talk much, he just holds you and Achilles close to him that day. As if he's afraid to loose either of you.

[reddancer1]

53 years ago today, March 19, 1971, the final episode of That Girl aired. It ran on ABC from September 8, 1966 to March 19, 1971, with a total of 136 half-hour episodes spanning over five seasons. It starred Marlo Thomas as the title character Ann Marie, an aspiring but only sporadically employed actress, who moves from her hometown of Brewster, New York to try to make it big in New York City. Ann has to take a number of offbeat "temp" jobs to support herself in between her various auditions and bit parts. Ted Bessell played her boyfriend Donald Hollinger, a writer for Newsview Magazine; Lew Parker and Rosemary DeCamp played Lew Marie and Helen Marie, her concerned parents. Bernie Kopell, Ruth Buzzi and Reva Rose played Ann and Donald's friends. That Girl was developed by writers Bill Persky and Sam Denoff, who had served as head writers on The Dick Van Dyke Show with which Thomas's late father, Danny Thomas, was closely associated earlier in the 1960s.

Each episode starts with a cold open, in which an odd incident occurs or a discussion foreshadows the episode's story. The scene almost always ends with someone exclaiming "...that girl!", just as Ann wanders into the shot and the character notices her. The show's logo appears over a freeze-frame shot of Ann. The opening credits for Season 1 featured Thomas, in character, strolling the streets of New York. From Season 2 to the end of the show's run, the opening shot was the view from a Pennsylvania Railroad passenger train crossing the New Jersey Meadowlands between Newark and Penn Station near Laurel Hill Park, then Thomas flying a kite in Central Park, and seeing and exchanging winks with her double in a store window. Lyrics were added to the theme for the final season, written by series co-creator Sam Denoff, sung by Ron Hicklin.

That Girl was one of the first sitcoms to focus on a single woman who was not a domestic or living with her parents. Some consider this show the forerunner of the highly successful Mary Tyler Moore Show, Murphy Brown, and Ally McBeal, and an early indication of the changing roles of American women in feminist-era America. Thomas' goofy charm, together with Bessell's dry wit, made That Girl a solid performer on the ABC Television Network, and while the series, in the overall ratings, never made the top thirty during its entire five-year run, the series did respectably well.

At the end of the 1969–1970 season, That Girl was still doing moderately well in the ratings; however, after four years, Thomas had grown tired of the series and wanted to move on. ABC convinced her to do one more year. In the beginning of the fifth season, Don and Ann became engaged, although they never actually married. The decision to leave the couple engaged at the end of the run was largely the idea of Thomas herself. She did not want to send a message to young women that marriage was the ultimate goal for them and she was worried that it would have defeated the somewhat feminist message of the show.

[dumblilb]

SUMMERTIME SADNESS CAST

You as Y/N ROWE

Gavin Casalegno as JEREMIAH FISHER

Lola Tung as BELLY CONKLIN

Chris Briney as CONRAD FISHER

Sean Kaufman as STEVEN CONKLIN

Jackie Chung as LAUREL PARK

and

Rachel Blanchard as SUSANNAH FISHER

Angelina Jolie as KATE ROWE

(The rest of the tsitp cast as there respective characters)

[aces-and-angels]

okay because i'm already in love with enid here are some q's <33

what prompted her to choose health law? is it because of her med background? or just why choose law as a whole

does enid have any icons? inspirations? role models?

what's enid's ultimate goal? like the laurel-wreath-crowning-equivalent in her career?

ahhhhhhhh ty ty (my first enid query🖤🖤)

what prompted her to choose health law? is it because of her med background? or just why choose law as a whole?

enid's pre-med days definitely played a role- as well as being from a family full of healthcare professionals (parents are both physicians) -> with that much exposure + insight on how fucked the us healthcare system is- it was hard not to gravitate towards cases regarding health law

w/ her parents' connections- she had an in for med schools + residency programs- it would have been easy for her, which is exactly why she didn't want to. she wanted to feel like she earned her place at the table

the idea of turning to a career in law started after taking a medical ethics class. she exceled in all her classes, but she really shined here. so much that her professor took notice and ultimately steered her into pursuing a law degree (became a mentor, in a sense- aided her throughout the application process to columbia)

does enid have any icons? inspirations? role models?

she holds the founding partners at her firm (park & davis) in high regards. i hc'd park & davis as 'the mecha of the matriarchy'; two bipoc women calling the shots? yeah, enid has no choice but to be in awe

i feel like aislinn would be another person enid would admire- one brilliant legal mind to another; she pours over aislinn's case write-ups in Law Association Monthly

what can i say? enid is drawn towards the feminine energy lol

what's enid's ultimate goal? like the laurel-wreath-crowning-equivalent in her career?

to start to explain this- a quote that guided me while filling out enid's character sheet: "it's always nice having someone owe you a favor."

her overall law philosophy (out of the three pb provides) aligns best with pure law; enid is a bloodhound when it comes to negotiating contracts- creating ironclad bylaws that prevent her firm (and herself) from getting screwed over/manipulating bylaws to her will if she finds herself on the offensive

the ultimate goal is to become indispensable- she doesn't have to be a named partner to hold all the cards. and to do that, she never agrees to terms without ensuring there's a benefit

her crowning moment: the first time she one-upped a senior partner as an associate

[heathtalbot]

( EMILIO SAKRAYA, 21, CISGENDER MALE, HE/HIM ) Is that HEATH TALBOT? A SENIOR originally from SAN JOSE, CA, they decided to come to Ogden College to study COMMUNICATIONS. They're THE MALINGERER on campus, but even they could get blamed for Greer's disappearance.

THE BASICS:

FULL NAME: Heath James Talbot

NICKNAMES: None, he's just Heath

AGE & BIRTHDAY: 21 & March 24, 2002

ZODIAC: ☼ Aries ☾ Leo ↑ Pisces + full chart

MBTI & ALIGNMENT: ESFP & Neutral Evil

+ TRAITS: Intrepid, Optimistic, Honest, Sociable

- TRAITS: Temperamental, Obtuse, Unreliable, Domineering

HOUSING: TBA

MAJOR: Communications

EXTRACURRICULARS: Member of SAE, Golf, Powerlifting Team, Rock Climbing Team

CHARACTER INSPIRATIONS: TBA

THREE SKILLS: excellent at picking out apology gifts, can successfully parallel park anywhere, weirdly good at walking on his hands

LINKS: Pinterest / Playlist / Tasks

AT OGDEN:

RELATIONSHIP TO GREER: COLLEGE FRIENDS

Heath couldn't say exactly when or where he met Greer, all the finnicky details lost to the chaotic blur that had been rush week, but when he woke up with her contact info in his phone one morning, it definitely felt like it was meant to be. Both freshmen, both rich and pretty -- what more motivation did they need? C'mon, it would've been weirder if they weren't friends! Just like the rest of the Ogden masses, Heath was dragged into Greer Morrison's gravitational pull, and he went willingly. They started linking up on the regular, meeting up at parties or catching each other on down days around campus, building a strong friendship that he's never once thought to second-guess.

EMBODIMENT OF HIS TROPE: THE MALINGERER

Everyone has known a Heath. The no-show with a great excuse. The guy that never fails to charm his way into the group project with the smartest student. A person who's probably never seriously been told 'no' even once in their life. And it's not luck, either; it's privilege. Heath can rest on his laurels all thanks to the Talbot family name and the achievements of those around him. The third son, he's never felt the pressure of expectation. His mother babies him while simple participation trophies earn him congratulations from his father, allowing him every easy win that he chooses to take. And if he ever faces a roadblock? Heath's positive that there's a way around it. A check to write, a phone call to make, red tape to ignore. Everyone else has always pulled the strings for him, anyway, so why should he start worrying now? Life's a breeze when you don't have to seriously think about anything!

BACKGROUND & DETAILS:

heath was an unexpected baby, the product of a long-term (and still on-going) affair of his mother's. his parents privately maintain a pseudo-open relationship while publicly playing house for the sake of each of their careers. needless to say, family dinners have a tendency to get Weird

his dad is a venture capitalist, very much in the same vein as gavin belson of silicon valley -- he's long since lost touch with his coder roots and mostly just throws his money around to keep his name relevant in tech circles.

heath interns frequently at the companies his dad owns, true nepo baby shit 🥰 but lbr all he does is go on coffee runs and clocks in for 4 hour work weeks

he's currently majoring in communications bc he legit googled "easiest college majors" and it was near the top of the list

started out trying to major in engineering??? who let him do that?? freshman year was rough 😔

anyway yeah, heath's..... not that smart. and to make matters worse, he's sensitive about it!! gets mean when he's confused or frustrated, esp when he feels like he's being teased and not in on the joke. he's got a short fuse after a lifetime of his older brothers picking on him. he'd rather be perceived as rude than dumb

big time gym bro (obviously) and v competitive -- tends to favor solo sports bc at least when he loses it's no one's fault but his own

has a terrible habit of making big promises and not keeping them

he was soooooooo obsessed w/ uncut gems when it came out, i just FEEL it

julia fox = dream woman

brings a certain "haha.. okay" energy to the function

both of his older brothers previously attended ogden (5+ years ago, i'm still iffy on exact ages) and pledged SAE. naturally, heath had to do the same <3

ngl he's very easily swayed by public opinion. critical thinking?? we don't know her!

lowkey has a childhood dream to one day climb mount everest. pls don't try to explain to him how it negatively impacts the environment, he doesn't wanna hear it and won't understand (or care rip)

probably pre-games while listening to drake lmfao

POTENTIAL CONNECTIONS:

FRIENDS FRIENDS FRIENDS !!!!!!!!

people who have been saddled with him for group projects, study groups, etc.

heath doesn't do drugs (he's a keg stand champ tho), so someone to smoke him out for the first time! fs would be a hilar thread

with ogden being full of bad daddies, i'd love for him to have this energy with someone xx

..... also this

anyone he fucked around with over the summer!! i'd luv to hc some juicy goss for him from the break

someone who always calls him keith lmfaooo

maaaaaaaybe his baby sister?? she'd be going into her sophomore year and i have many family hc's to discuss, so <3

an ex who made him paranoid abt astrology stuff sjdjsdkn

someone that he's using and/or leading on

flip the script - someone who's using and/or leading him on!

literally anything else ur heart desires 💖 this will be heath's fourth year at ogden, so we have plenty of wiggle room to plot some crash-and-burn relationships, seething rivalries, situationships, etc. -- i'm down for it all!!

[omegaxlore]

Characters , Abilities , & Relics

Poaegi -> omg bestie it's you !! How did you make it into my story?! -> Protector Ethereal -> ABILITIES : -> enhanced senses -> abilities to mimic other Ethereal abilities -> natural protective instinct -> RELIC : charm bracelet with charm of the other Ethereal relics. When pulled off the bracelet the charm grows life size and useable. "back up" relics

Kim Jaehan -> Life Ethereal -> ABILITIES : -> creation of life/healing by song -> Minor healing (w/o song) -> Reanimation (numbness & adrenaline) -> Flight -> RELIC : angel wings - can make a wish on a fallen or plucked feather

Lee Hwichan -> Light Ethereal -> ABILITIES : -> illusions -> force fields -> invisibility -> create light -> RELIC : a rugged crystal necklace

Jang Sebin -> Fire Ethereal -> ABILITIES : -> manipulate fire/lava & heat -> flame/heat/lava resistant -> create fireworks -> RELIC : burns on arms and back - almost like tattoos & when using fire abilities the burns look like they are on fire under skin

Song Hangyeom -> Healing Ethereal -> ABILITIES : -> mend broken bones -> rid of poisons / cancer -> heal open wounds -> unbreakable / can't wound -> causes numbness -> COUNTER : cannot heal someone when it is their time / healing abilities can be rejected by body / person -> RELIC : two halos in the shape and size of bracelets

Kim Taedong -> Death Ethereal -> ABILITIES : -> death by song - can take a person's last breath -> manipulate shadows -> numbness -> guider to the afterlife -> NOTE : cannot actually kill someone - death by song is only used when someone is in the process of dying -> RELIC : a candle

Lee Jinwoo / Xen -> Mind Ethereal -> ABILITIES : -> telepathy -> echolocation -> slight precognition -> mind & emotion reading -> RELIC : blindfold

Moon Jehyun -> Darkness Ethereal -> ABILITIES : -> creates shadows -> night vision -> can become a shadow -> dark illusions -> RELIC : cape & hood

Park Jinwoo / Kevin -> Electricity Ethereal -> ABILITIES : -> create / control lightning -> manipulate electronics -> absorb & release energy -> RELIC : bow & lightning arrows

Han Junghoon -> Air Ethereal -> ABILITIES : -> create clouds, fog, & mist -> blasts of air -> "flight" -> create heavy winds / tornados -> remove or add oxygen -> RELIC : golden laurel wreath crown

Yang Hyuk -> Earth Ethereal -> ABILITIES : -> break & reshape earth -> metal manipulation -> super strength -> RELIC : brass knuckle rings

Shin Yechan -> Water Ethereal -> ABILITIES : -> control liquid & give it form -> breathe under water -> can remove water -> can pull water from anything and anywhere ( small cracks , moisture off skin , etc) -> RELIC : a mermaid scaled skull mask that covers lower half of face

[montyblues]

𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Please feel free to let me know/ask any other fandom or character you'd like to add that is not already on the list.

Requests are open , feel free to send in any requests that you have in mind and I'll see what I can whip up for you.

Fandoms I write for:

ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇꜱ

→ ʜᴀʀʀʏ ᴘᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ ꜰʀᴀɴᴄʜɪꜱᴇ

Harry Potter

Draco Malfoy

Cedric Diggory

Hermione Granger

Ginny Weasley

Fleur Delacour

→ ᴍᴀʀᴠᴇʟ (ᴍᴄᴜ)

Natasha Romanoff

Wanda Maximoff

Carol Danvers

Kate Bishop

Tony Stark

Steve Rogers

Bruce Banner

Peter Parker

Thor

Loki

→ ᴅᴄᴇᴜ

Bruce Wayne

Clark Kent

Arthur Curry

Barry Allen

Victor Stone

Billy Batson

Diana Prince

Mary Bromfield

Harley Quinn

→ ꜱᴄʀᴇᴀᴍ ꜰʀᴀɴᴄʜɪꜱᴇ

Samantha Carpenter

Tara Carpenter

ᴛᴠ ꜱʜᴏᴡꜱ

→ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʟᴀꜱʜ

Barry Allen

Cisco Ramon

Eobard Thawne

Hunter Zoloman

Caitlin Snow

Iris West

Jessie Wells

→ ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀɢɪʀʟ

Kara Danvers

Alex Danvers

Lena Luthor

Samantha Arias

Maggie Sawyer

Nia Nal

→ ᴀʀʀᴏᴡ

Oliver Queen

Felicity Smoak

Mia Smoak

Thea Queen

Laurel Lance

Dinah Drake

→ ʟᴇɢᴇɴᴅꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛᴏᴍᴏʀʀᴏᴡ

Sara Lance

Zari Tomaz

Ava Sharpe

Amaya Jiwe

→ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ ᴅɪᴀʀɪᴇꜱ

Stefan Salvatore

Damon Salvatore

Kai Parker

Enzo St. John

Elena Gilbert

Caroline Forbes

Bonnie Bennett

Katherine Pierce

→ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʀɪɢɪɴᴀʟꜱ

Klaus Mikaelson

Elijah Mikaelson

Kol Mikaelson

Finn Mikaelson

Hayley Marshall

Rebekah Mikaelson

Freya Mikaelson

Davina Clair

→ ʟᴇɢᴀᴄɪᴇꜱ

Hope Mikaelson

Josie Salzman

Lizzie Saltzman

Penelope Park

→ ᴛᴇᴇɴ ᴡᴏʟꜰ

Allison Argent

Lidiya Martin

Malia Tate

Scott McCall

Stiles Stilinski

Isaac Lahey

Derek Hale

→ ʀɪᴠᴇʀᴅᴀʟᴇ

Betty Cooper

Veronica Lodge

Cheryl Blossom

→ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪᴛᴄʜᴇʀ

Geralt of Rivia

Yennefer of Vengerberg

→ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀꜱ

Clary Fray

Isabelle Lightwood

ᴍɪꜱᴄ.

SuperCorp

WonderBat

WandaNat

PercaBeth