#just completely feral and ready to put themselves in danger if it means having even the tiniest chance of helping their friend

[itsnotacostume]

yeah <3

[yikesharringrove]

Agitation (or disturbance of the mind)

Here is my piece for the Harringrove Big Bang!! I’m so so proud of how this piece turned out and I’m so excited to share it! @harringrovebigbang

Read on Ao3 (highly recommended. It’s over 16k).

Special thanks to my beta readers @thinger-strang @crispysteve without whom this story would’ve been scrapped in many fits of emotions.

Art for this story to be linked soon by @thedogsled

Check out this amazing moodboard by @memes-saved-me !!

Enjoy!

-

Steve Harrington is a liar. 

He always has been. 

Nearly everything about him is a perfectly crafted facade. 

From the story of his family’s move to Hawkins when he was eight, to the smile that slides easily onto his face when he tells Robin I’m fine. 

Steve is a liar. 

But it's all out of necessity. All for the greater of some good he isn’t all that clear on anymore. 

It was always about protection. 

Protecting his friends and everyone in Hawkins from the truth about Hawkins National Laboratory. 

Then it was about protecting himself from his powers. 

From the way his words had a knack of worming their way into someone’s brain. Of setting up shop inside and clanging around until they could do nothing but bow to his suggestion. 

Just because he could get his way with the right inflection and the telltale shiver down his spine, didn’t mean that that was okay. 

It was drilled into him the first night he arrived in Hawkins. 

After his file was stamped with a large red mark that read defective, he was given to one of the scientists and her husband. 

The Harringtons. 

A normal new family from Eastern Oklahoma. 

That’s what they told everyone. 

That’s what they made sure Steve parroted to everyone in his brand new school. 

His new father took a cigar to the tattoo on his wrist, welting the flesh with an ugly burn. He ignored Steve’s screams and tears. 

You have to fit in here, Steven, he had said, the cigar smoldering between his fingers, Steve clutching his wrist, eyes shining with tears. You have to fit in and be normal. 

So Steve lied. 

He smiled and told everyone he came from a normal family from normal Oklahoma. He said that he lived in a normal house, and read normal books, and played normal sports. 

And he tried, and failed, to convince himself the lab was a dream.

-

“We should do something after this.”

Steve was careful to keep his voice casual. He didn’t want to let Robin in on how much he was dreading returning to his empty house tonight. 

Robin didn’t acknowledge him. She was sorting the returned movies, placing them in piles of genre so they could easily be returned to their proper section. 

Steve quietly lifted his leg, and lightly kicked her hip. 

She glared at him. 

“Quit ignorin’ me. Just say yes, or no.” It’s not like if she said no it would crush him or anything. No. It’s fine. 

“I just have a bunch of homework that’s all, like, due tomorrow,” she said it slowly, as though telling him a beloved relative had died. 

Was it that obvious how lonely he is?

“Don’t worry about it, Buck.” Robin took school real serious. She had perfect grades every year and had already applied to sixteen colleges and universities, including four Ivy League options. 

So Steve didn’t blame her for not skulking around with him. 

With college-less, nowhere bound Steve. 

“I’m really sorry,” she began, getting that sad look in her eye like that night in the mall bathroom when Steve spilled his drugged-out guts. Literally, and metaphorically. 

“Nah, I was just lookin’ for something to do. It’s okay, Robin. Really.”

And it was. 

Almost. 

It’s just that, Steve’s not got a lot going for him right now. 

He’s got a big empty house, and a brain that likes to give him excessive nightmares, and one age-appropriate friend in the whole place. 

But he doesn’t wanna talk about all that shit. 

And Robin looked like there was something on the tip of her tongue. Something her teeth were barely holding back. 

So Steve just scooped up the stack of neatly ordered Action films, and made his way over to the far shelf, taking himself out of the situation before it would get to a place that would only make him lie more and more. 

Robin means well. He knows she does. 

It just feels like a lot of her well-meaning chats end up with Steve lying through his fucking teeth and Robin nearly in tears of frustration at his lack of openness with her. 

She feels like being tortured and drugged together gives them a close kind of kinship very few share. 

Steve feels like he’s got just too much fucked-up baggage to dump on her. 

Not when they’re trying to put the Upside Down behind them. 

Not that Steve could ever put it behind him. 

He felt something build in his gut. Something hot and heavy. Something that always meant his powers were scraping at the walls of the neat little cave he had shut them in. Something that meant his skin would burn until he unleashed some of his pent-up energy. 

He took a deep breath, blowing out the air slowly through his nose. 

He had rules to his power. Rules he had given himself, mostly. Things he’d never use his powers for. 

He tried to avoid his powers at all costs, but he had seen what could happen if he tried to tamp them down. It was less dangerous to open the lid of the box just a tiny bit. 

Especially if he did it right. 

He made his way back over to Robin, finding that spot in his brain that made a shudder zip down his spine. The spot that was made of cold and electric heat. 

It was always too simple when he let the power take over. 

Locate her feeling. Let him consume him. 

And then just, twist it as much as he wants. 

“Robin,” he spoke slowly, honing his suggestion. “You don’t have to feel bad about not spending time with me tonight.”

He felt her sadness and guilt about the evening recede about as fast as the tide. 

She really shouldn’t feel bad about ditching him, especially not when her education is the main priority. 

He matched her lazy grin, wiping his nose discreetly, only a small drop of blood smeared against his hand. 

The rest of the shift passed without incident, and the roaring feeling in Steve’s gut had been sated enough for the time being. 

So he pushed it back out of his mind, and returned to his empty house. 

He was saving up to get his own place. He really was. But it was easier this way. He didn’t pay any bills, had lots of space to himself, and a pool in the backyard (that he never used). 

And it’s hard for him to explain, but there’s something tugging him back into this house all the time. 

He doesn’t know if it’s because it’s the only home he ever knew after the pain and fear that was his childhood in the lab, or if it’s something else that makes him feel tethered to the too-big house. 

Sometimes he thought there was a sense of safety in the old place. 

With parents that spent excessive amounts of time doing research for things he didn’t understand but was sure were important, it was largely an emotion-free place. 

Which was good for Steve. 

High emotion situations made his power boil up and spill over the edge like a pot of water on the stove. 

A place like his empty house, he could keep everything in check. Not get his feelings tangled with those around him. Not catch thoughts that were just beginning to be molded into something brand new. 

He clambered into bed, punching his pillows around in a way that was decidedly not petulant. 

There was a steady silence in the old house. A silence that was as depressing as it was easy on his brain. 

And there wasn’t silence. 

Creaks. 

Creaks issuing from downstairs. From the floorboards in the hallway. 

Footsteps. 

Steve was out of bed in a second, bat held aloft in as close to ready position as he could maintain while bolting down the stairs in his socks and faded green gym shorts. 

He knew how to navigate the house without a sound. Practice of tip-toeing around a volatile not-father kinda ended up giving him something useful. 

The creaks were still progressing, moving up the hallway from the back of the house, where his parents’ empty bedroom sat still. 

The person was getting closer, lumbering slowly as if they were trying to be quiet themselves. 

Steve adjusted his grip on the bat, taking proper batting stance, ready for the intruder to round the corner into his section of the hall. 

First sign of a person, and Steve would swing. 

No questions asked. 

The floorboard before the bend in the hall gave a loud sound, and he could’ve sworn he heard someone curse under their breath. 

He closed his eyes, and swung. 

His bat sailed through the air, and connected with, not an intruder. 

And then he was filled with an overwhelming sense of fear. A completely feral state of fight or flight made him nearly bare his teeth in an animalistic growl. He felt fear, and dread, and pure stubborn, stupid resolve. 

It nearly blinded him, the emotions were so thick and clear. 

And then there whooshed out of him, as though being sucked up by a feelings vacuum, leaving him empty and confused. 

His top lip was covered in blood. 

He had a lot of fucking questions as he stared at the bat, hanging by it’s long nails in the hallway wall, the ominous creaking moving past him towards the stairs. 

The footsteps that were caused by no one. 

It’s official. 

Steve’s lost it. 

He’s fucking crazy. 

He’s hearing footsteps and voices swearing quietly, and he’s going mad and completely batshit and should be tucked away in a padded room for the rest of his life. 

He didn’t even bother to wrench the bat out of the wall as he stumbled after the imagined footsteps. 

He clearly needed to get a good night’s sleep, and to forget that anything happened at all tonight. 

-

Billy hates Harrington’s house. 

He doesn’t, really. It’s given him excellent shelter while he pulled himself together, and it’s out of town enough to serve as a good base for the little gang of Lost Boys he had accumulated. 

It’s just that, the old house likes to make a lot of noise. 

It keeps him on edge. 

Every squealing door hinge, and every creaky floorboard sets his teeth on edge and makes him whip around in a frenzy, expecting to see a demogorgon snarling at him from the sitting room. 

He nearly had a heart attack when he heard the thuds coming from upstairs. 

He generally liked to avoid the top floor of the house. 

Harrington’s bedroom was up there, and it wigged him out something fierce. He’d only been in the dilapidated version of it one time, his first night in the house he had claimed for safety. 

He didn’t intend to stay the night in there, he had just stumbled upon it, and curled up in the bed. 

He remembers not sleeping the entire night. He was so scared after coming to in the library, something slimy and disgusting slipping its way out of his throat. 

The whole place had been screaming, as though the Upside Down itself was alive. Alive and being horrifically murdered. 

He didn’t know what it was called then, all he knew was that Harrington’s house was the first one he came across, and that Harrington’s room was depressingly empty and impersonal. 

But, there was a thudding coming from that general area, and if some kinda shitty creature was making its way into the house, he needed to hedge it off before it did any damage. 

He took hold of his ax, never far from his side these days, and slipped out of his cot. 

The floorboards in the hallway were creaky, and he tried to walk slowly, muffling his footsteps as much as he could in his heavy boots, not wanting to warn the monster he was coming for it. 

He cataloged the crew in his head: Hopper had his troop of three in the basement where they were resting up for the supply run tomorrow. Timothy was on nightwatch with his team of five. Billy was in a pack with four others; Heather Holloway, her mother, Janet, and the two boys they found skulking around the library the same night everyone seemed to wake up. One of the boys was called Andrew. The other hadn’t spoken a single word the entire time they’d been trapped. 

Billy liked to call him by different names each time he referred to the kid. Trying to get him to laugh. He couldn’t’ve been more than seven years old, and he was trapped in this fucking hellscape with the rest of them. 

Andrew was thirteen. Billy didn’t like to look at him much. Andrew reminded him of Max. Which made Billy feel empty and achy in a way he didn’t think was very productive for survival.

But Andrew took a shine to Janet Holloway. Probably missing his mother and needing more comfort than his thirteen-year-old self was willing to admit.

The Holloway women were a hell of a lot feistier than Bill originally gave them credit for, saving his ass in a scrap just as often as he had been there for theirs. Heather and Janet were equal parts caring and soft, with the right amounts of clever and bossy to take point on their team. 

Billy let himself be the muscle. 

He let himself be the watchdog and attack dog. He took nightwatches and never let his weapons out of his grasp.

Everyone had a role. 

And that was perfectly okay.

They had to keep together in this world. They wouldn’t survive it otherwise. 

They’d all lost enough people to understand that. 

One of the boards gave a hefty creak under his left foot, and he breathed a quiet fuck through his bandana, listening for more of the thudding. 

It had stopped about forty seconds before, Billy had counted, and he couldn’t hear any other sounds of something forcing its way inside. Plus, the nightwatch hadn’t sounded any alarms. 

He took another step, ax held ready and aloft in case he came face to ugly face with one of the horrible creatures that prowled the night. 

He rounded the corner, and there was a loud bang on the wall next to his head. 

He jumped as paint chipped off the wall and flew all over him. 

He was hit with a feeling of intense fear, and adrenaline rush that caused all the blood in his ears to rush. He looked wildly around, seeing, nothing. 

Billy bared his teeth, ready to go down fucking swinging. 

As long as he took the fucker down with him, that’s all that matters. 

Save the rest. 

And he stood, ready to fight, ready to die. 

And there was nothing.

Nothing in the hallway. He was all alone. 

None of this shit made any sense. He hadn’t dreamed the wall cracked beside his head, and looking back, there were holes in the wall, and a big dent that had splinted the white paint and drywall beneath it. 

There was some fucked up shit going on, and Billy didn’t like it one bit. 

He continued down the hall, creeping to the stairs to check the original source of the noises that had woken him up. 

Harrington’s room was pretty much just as he remembered it from that first night in the house. 

It was sparse and sad-looking. The covers on the bed were all jostled and thrown around, the horrible spindle-like vines covering nearly every surface in the room. 

They had cleared the tendrils in other rooms, cutting them and burning them back, ensuring the vines didn’t start creeping over them when they weren’t looking. 

Billy didn’t fancy being covered and tethered by the slimy black vines. He was pretty much over all this Upside Down shit. 

He took a cursory look around Harrington’s room, not noticing any signs of forced entry from a creature, really nothing was out of place. 

The meager school trophies on the bookshelf next to the closet looked rotted and tarnished, just like everything else in this absolute hell called a parallel universe. There were few pictures in this room, much like the whole house. It had taken Billy a long time to notice the lack of inhabitancy the house had. The way it seemed to feel so cold and empty, it would be that way in the real world too. 

His eyes swept over the dilapidated dresser, cataloging the room quickly for anything that should worry him. 

Billy deemed the whole scene safe, and made sure to close the door tightly as he retreated back downstairs. 

-

Steve’s going fucking crazy. 

He was still in bed, his alarm clock ringing angrily at him as it had for the past six minutes. 

He hadn’t slept at all last night. 

Something just felt. Off. 

The feelings in his chest were scrambled, and they felt foreign to him. Like he had taken in somebody else’s emotions. 

But proximity was the key to his power, and he was alone. Alone alone. 

Like, the closest person was Mrs. Gardfeld in the next house, all the way across their combined, much too big, yards. 

It felt like. It felt like someone was in the house with him. Someone was in the house with him, and they were scared, and stubborn, and tired, and a flurry of things that made Steve feel ill. 

And he couldn’t push them out. 

He couldn’t find the chasm between this slew of someone else’s shit, and his own messy cocktail of feelings. 

The other feelings were like those awful vines in the tunnel. Snaking around under his feet, wiggling up his ankles and keeping him stuck in the mud. Wrapping around his own emotions and squeezing until they just merged into one. 

He’s lost the metaphor. 

Doesn’t matter. 

His feelings are fucked and his brain is fucked and his day is fucked. 

And he has to work a double at Family Fuckin’ Video. 

He found his way out of bed. Not going very far, just standing next to his warm nest of blankets, debating getting back in and hiding for the rest of his life. 

He was going to be late for work. 

He didn’t really give a fuck. 

Keith would be all smug and probably make some remarks about Steve not even being worth the less-than-minimum wage he was making. 

He took a shower, not so much cleaning himself as letting the lukewarm water cascade down on him and hope it got rid of the stench of sweat and anxiety and bad sleep that was clinging angrily to his skin. 

His brain was empty. 

Empty save for the pounding otherness that were these horrible fucking feelings. 

Robin didn’t even have the heart to call him out for being nearly half an hour late.

“You look like shit.”

No, she just called him out for looking like shit. 

“Y’know, it’s really wonderful to have such a caring and thoughtful friend in these trying times.”

She rolled her eyes. He always told her one day she was gonna get stuck like that. With her eyes permanently fixed towards the ceiling in exasperation. 

“Drop the attitude, Steve Harrington. Just because you didn’t sleep doesn’t mean I have to suffer.” 

Sometimes it was hard to tell if she was joking. Steve just clenched his jaw and stared at her blankly. Either she would get mad at him, or sigh and roll her eyes. 

She sighed and rolled her eyes. 

Bingo. 

She wasn’t actually mad at him. 

“You okay?”

“Jus’, some weirdness. Bad vibes.”

He couldn’t give her more than that. Couldn’t say I can feel someone else in my house and I don’t know if someone is hiding in my house or if I’m going crazy, oh and by the way, I was one of those freaky lab kids and I can manipulate and feel people’s thoughts and emotions, by the way.

That’s too much for a slow shift on a Saturday morning. 

That’s too much for really any time of any day.

No, Steve fully plans to take all that shit to the grave. Like a real man, his dad would say. 

“Well, if you could take your bad vibes back to rewind duty, that would leave all the good vibes up here to me.” She shooed him off with her hand, landing a quick slap square on his left asscheck when he groaned and dragged his feet dramatically on his way to the back room. 

Not that Steve would ever actually complain about rewind duty. Steve preferred doing it to anything else in the place. Especially re-shelving. That was just asking for someone to come ask him for a movie recommendation. Steve only watched the same five campy old westerns and when he recommends any of those, people seem to wanna get out of his face right quick. 

No, rewinding was dull and monotonous and solitary, all the shit that Steve really needed on a day like today. 

There was a strict routine and he didn’t have to think or do anything. 

Just sit. New tape. Rewind. Put in case. Put in re-shelve bucket. New tape. Rewind. Put in case. And again and again and again until all the tapes were ready to go. 

Hawkins tended to take out a lot of movies on the weekend. Not much else to do when you aren’t sixteen and ready to hit up any party you could possibly weasel your way into. 

So, Steve had about fifty some odd tapes to rewind from the past few days and he was feeling benignly excited about sitting in the small room for most of his shift. 

It was easy to pass the shift like that. 

Sitting with the quiet whirring of the tapes being tracked back to the beginning. Not having to deal with anyone’s thoughts except his own tedious ones about when he should take his lunch break and reminding himself to check the TV Guide for anything good tonight. 

It was an odd emptiness that took hold of him throughout the day. And he almost felt, well. 

Lonely. 

He almost felt lonely. 

Which is fucking bonkers because that horrible feeling of someone else had well and truly fucked him over last night, and well into this morning, but he kind. Missed. The other presence. 

He’s officially crazy. 

Someone find this boy a padded fucking cell because Steve Harrington has officially gone all kinds of batshit bananas wacky. 

He’s feeling lonely because the horrible not his feelings of fear and anger and betrayal and desperation aren’t clogging up his little brain sink. Even when they were, the brain sink was threatening to burst and leak all over his brain kitchen. 

Or something to that effect. 

He let his eyes unfocus, watching Jaws at double speed and backward for the fourth time that day. 

There was something about the foreign feelings he just couldn’t quite wrap his head around. 

Something twinging in the back of his brain, screaming at him to open his eyes and pay attention. 

But that’s never been Steve’s strong suit. 

-

“Stupid. Fucking. Vines .”

Hopper muttered to himself a lot. 

It was usually too muffled underneath his own bandana face covering and the hefty beard he had been sporting to discern whatever he was thinking, but it’s not like hating the awful black tendrils of gross plant/monster/everything-that-made-up-the-Upside-Down hybrid of vine-ish tentacles was something that just Hopper experienced. 

It was a sentiment they all shared as they hacked away at the new growth in the dilapidated Bradley’s Big Buys. 

They had already ransacked the general store five times over, and took as much as they could salvage from the wreckage of the other-dimensional mall. 

Supplies were needed, and they had to be smart about it. 

Things had been quiet lately. 

Not many beasties out and about since the night they all seemed to come to. 

Hopper had said something about the gate closing and the brain being cut off from the body. 

Billy hadn’t listened. 

He’d been scared off his ass and all that had really registered was clear for now. 

So, they made supply runs. And poked around town for any survivors left to take back to Basecamp Harrington. Only Billy called it that. 

They had the runs down to a system. 

Pry away any vines they could, burning them back as they went, making enough room to slip into the bargain store, gather as much canned food and grimy medical supplies as they could manage, and book it back to the relative safety of the big house on the edge of the forest. 

Nobody talked about what they’d do when they ran out of supplies. When they’d exhausted their resources and were stuck with nothing but the vines on the ground and the spores in the air. 

Billy got it. 

It’s not like he wants to hear he’ll probably die of starvation and/or a gangrenous infection before he’s eighteen. 

They just. Make do. 

Ration food and keep each other safe. 

Always thinking about the minute they’re in and the minute coming up. Not looking too far forward. 

There’s nothing to see too far in the future. 

Billy crashed the blunt end of his ax through the sliding door at the front of the store, clearing away as much as he could. 

Janet and Andrew would slip inside first go, taking as much as they could carry with them. Next round, Heather would take the little one and gather anything left. 

Billy would keep watch. 

He always kept watch. 

Things had been too good for too long. 

After the first wave of those who didn’t make it, the whole broken side of the Earth was too kind to them. Not sending horrible fleshy monsters to nearly suck out their very souls. 

Billy didn’t think this could last for much longer. 

Heather took the little one by the hand, rushing past her mother and Andrew as they returned with their supplies. Billy did a quick scan of them, noting no new injuries. Nothing out of the norm. 

Supply runs were choreographed down to the minute. 

Should the group not return in forty-five minutes, a search team was sent out. 

The small group trudged back to the Harrington safehouse, keeping in the shadows, not a single one of them daring to speak. Billy walked slightly behind the others, never letting himself relax for a single second. 

Things were too quiet.

-

The feeling hit Steve over the head like a sack of bricks being whacked against his skull. 

Walking into his home was like walking into a stinking den of fear and anxiety. The air was clogged with so many emotions Steve felt like he was choking on them, slowly being crushed under their weight. 

Whoever was emitting all these, Steve felt sorry for them. He can’t imagine living with this much bad energy taking up space in someone’s brain. He could barely cope with his own terrible bullshit. He doesn’t know how someone could cope with this. 

He tried to move through his evening to the best of his ability. 

He nearly set the house on fire when he left the tin foil covering on his frozen meal, causing the microwave to spark angrily at him, the potatoes underneath the corner of foil that had nearly caught fire to smolder and blacken. 

Even in the shower, the water as hot and steamy as he could stand, he felt that prickle he couldn’t get rid of. 

Like if he could just close his eyes and reach out far enough, his fingers would brush someone else. Someone nearby. 

He’s felt it before. That there was a person just out of reach. A person he could feel clear as a bell, but couldn’t alter. Couldn’t manipulate. Just had to experience everything that was going on inside and try to hold on for the ride. 

He wore headphones to bed, blasting a mixtape Robin had made for him last month. Something with a lot of heavy guitars and girls wailing about society. 

He doesn’t think it was all that good, but it helped. Helped him feel like maybe the person wasn’t seeping into his own soul. 

And the whining synth of Patti Smith finally let him get some goddamn sleep. 

  “Hello?”

It was his house. 

But it wasn’t his house. 

It was a blank void. It was nothing. It was nowhere. 

But for some reason, his brain kept telling him it was his house. 

“Harrington?”

It was Billy. Hargrove. 

But it wasn’t Billy. 

He was dirty, covered in soot and horrible black sludge that made Steve’s stomach churn. 

“Why are you in my house?”

Billy looked around the blank void all around them. Water sloshed on the floor, lapping at Billy’s black boots. Steve observed his own toes. 

He was barefoot, but he couldn’t feel the water. 

“This is your house?”

Steve didn’t want to explain. 

“You’re dead.”

“Could be soon.”

Nothing Billy said made any sense. But then, Billy never made much sense when he was alive, either. 

He was an enigma to Steve. A big question mark all wrapped up with a gorgeous face and perfect body.

“Where is this to you?”

Why was Steve’s brain so adamant on declaring this place his house?

“Somewhere safe.”

-

So. 

That’s something. 

Dreaming about Harrington. 

Not necessarily something that Billy wanted to have happen to him while he was experiencing the worst possible time in his life. 

Or maybe he did. 

He’d said it in the dream. 

Somewhere safe. 

It’s what he felt in that blackness. 

Safety. Warmth. Hope. 

All the shit he hasn’t felt since he opened his eyes in the rank-ass library. 

That darkness was like a harness, keeping him grounded to something real. Tucking him in gently at night and kissing him on the head. 

It made waking up that much shittier. 

Knowing he’d be on nightwatch with Heather and Janet tonight, he used resting up as an excuse to lay on his cot, hardly moving in the clouded air. 

He needed to process. 

There was something so fucking weird about that dream. 

It felt real in the moment, and he didn’t question anything that had happened. 

Why there was water on the ground at his feet? Why Harrington was there wearing pajamas Billy could only describe as skanky? All of this made perfect fucking sense to dream Billy. 

Awake Billy, had some fuckin’ questions. 

Mostly, those previously listed. As well as: what the fuck?

He blames seeing Steve specifically on being in his house. That makes sense. You tend to think about a guy quite a lot when you’re living in the broken shell of his family home. He blames seeing Steve in those itsy-bitsy shorts and a homemade cropped t-shirt on the well repressed sexual interest he refused to admit he felt towards the guy. 

All that made sense. 

But everything else. 

Steve said he was dead. 

Was he dead?

Was this Hell?

Purgatory?

He’s read The Divine Comedy, and this doesn’t quite match up with any of the shit Dante waxed on about. 

And dream Billy didn’t think that was a weird thing to say to someone. To accuse them of being dead. He just said could be soon and then acted like that was a normal fucking response. 

His head was spinning out of control. 

The only thing that made sense was when Billy said they were somewhere safe. 

Because, they were. 

Even in the void place, he knew they were safe. 

There was a small tapping sound on the wall next to the open door frame. 

The door had long since rotted right through. 

“Miss Janet sent me to see if you’re alright.”

Andrew was always calling Janet Holloway Miss Janet. 

It makes Billy wonder if manners like that were beaten into him by a father like Neil. 

He hopes not. 

He likes Andrew too much for that. 

Andrew hovered around while Billy swung himself out of his cot. 

He changed out the bandana over his mouth and nose. 

Most of them slept fully dressed, even with their shoes and socks still firmly on their feet. 

You had to be ready to go at the slightest sound of Bad in this place. 

Plus, everything was so goddamn dirty, what’s a little mud in the sheets in the grand scheme of things? And the rancid rotting smell of the Upside Down did wonders to cover the smell of body odor.

Billy followed Andrew down the L-shaped hallway, to the sitting room where he found Janet and Heather huddled together on one couch, the little one between them. 

“Apparently something happened on the run last night.” 

Billy’s blood ran cold. He couldn’t make out Janet’s expression under her face covering. The little one got up from his spot on the couch, standing in Billy’s shadow. He liked to do that. Billy figured he felt safe behind someone so much bigger and stronger than him. Someone with a big fuckin’ weapon that was never too far away. 

“Who’d we lose?”

“No one. Everyone’s okay. Hopper just called all of us for a discussion, then went to the basement.”

The basement was Hopper’s domain with his little chunk of the crew. 

He had found some busted up H.A.M. radio from somewhere he refused to explain, and spent all the time he wasn’t watching over his shoulder for threats or gathering supplies from smashed grocery stores, trying to fix it up, tuning it to different crackling stations, and yelling into it. 

El. El, I need you to copy if you can hear me. El!

-

The pillow was a mess of blood the next morning. 

It was congealed and cracked and tacky against his face and made the pillowcase stick to his cheek and his bloody upper lip in a way that kinda made Steve wanna puke a little bit. 

His nose had bled in the night. 

He never got nosebleeds. 

Unless he used his power. 

And that dream. 

That blank void space and that mucky scraggly Billy lookin’ like the hunky star of some apocalypse movie.

Wait.

Blood forgotten, smeared on his face and neck, Steve tossed himself towards the phone on his nightstand, smacking his shoulder against the wooden corner and tumbling to the floor, his legs still tangled in his sheets on the bed. 

He couldn’t deal with anything, snatching the phone up and punching in the only number that was grinding through his head. 

“ Pick up pick up pick up pick up pick up, ” he muttered into the receiver. 

His upper body was still flopped over to the plush carpet, legs twitching and shaking on the bed with his anxiety. 

He’s had some massive fucking realizations and he needs backup. 

“This is the Byers.”

“Put El on the phone.”

-

“Oh. Steve’s covered in blood again. The Upside Down must really be back,” Dustin said in complete monotone as Steve opened the door. 

Steve couldn’t give less of a fuck right now. 

He felt like he was on the verge of a major breakthrough, all coming in the neat package of a major breakdown. 

He felt manic and shaky and so what if he forgot he was covered in the aftermath of a superpower-nosebleed-explosion?

“Shut up. Just get in.”

El had rallied the old troops from St. Paul, calling everyone at the ass-crack o’fuck in the morning and saying something about catching some weird Hawkins vibes all the way from Minnesota. 

It was a fucking weak excuse, but explaining the whole Steve situation was just not really in the cards today. 

He’s got an agenda and they need to stick to it. 

Robin said she’d gather Max on the way to Steve’s place, and Nancy was probably hauling Mike and Lucas over faster than a speeding gun or whatever that expression is, so all Steve had to do was get his story straight. 

“And maybe you should think about putting on a clean shirt? At the very least. I’d say, maybe just start over. Take a shower. Powerwash your face, even.”

“When the fuck did you become sarcastic ?”

“Right after you became friends with the coolest chick on the planet and then decided you’re too good for her.”

“ Chick. Don’t call Robin a chick. And I’ve told you, we’re just friends. I’m not too good for her.”

Really, Steve thought she was too good for him. 

Well, that, and there’s the whole part where she’s super totally not into guys at all. 

“So, what’s this all about, anyway? Mike said on the phone that El called him and left a really cryptic message.”

“Look. She called me to explain and ask if everyone could meet here,” Steve lied. “I’ll give you guys a recap once the rest of the gang shows.”

“But she thinks there’s something going on with the Upside Down? Again ?”

“I think she knows there’s something going on with the Upside Down.”

The more Steve sat with the memory of how Billy looked in that dream, the more he was certain of where he was. 

Billy had been ratty. His normally perfect hair was long and limp, greasy on top and matted around his face. He was sporting a patchy beard, nothing like the fuckin’ pornstache the guy had been rocking all last summer. 

And he was filthy. Covered in grime and dirt, and Steve’s sure if he’d looked harder, he would’ve seen traces of that viscous black goo that only meant bad news. 

There was a squeal of tires, an alarm signaling the arrival of Nancy in her mother’s station wagon, toting her brother and Lucas. 

“I’m in this now, Lucas Sinclair!” came Erica’s voice from the entryway. 

Steve was tapping his foot impatiently.

“Erica, you accidentally found out about all this!”

“So did you!”

The Sinclair siblings’ bickering was only cut by the sound of the Wheeler siblings snapping at one another in turn.

“Am I the only one that thinks it doesn’t make sense to meet up this early? El and Will are like, seven hours away!”

“Mike! It doesn’t matter. We all have to talk and figure out what’s going on.”

The sounds of arguments all quieted abruptly as the four people rounded the corner and caught sight of Steve.

“Oh, Jesus. Who kicked your ass this time?” Mike snipped at Steve. 

Oh, yeah. He keeps forgetting he’s covered in his own nose blood. 

“What? It’s nothing. I kicked my own ass. Just take a seat.”

“I told you to-”

Steve didn’t wanna hear it. 

He loves all these people, but his head kinda felt like it was full of mushy jelly and runny pudding and all the loud talking wasn’t doing much to help. 

He stepped out onto the porch, snagging the pack of cigarettes he kept stowed in the flower box next to the door. 

It took two to finally tame his nerves any. 

Sitting there with all the people in his house waiting for an explanation, he kinda felt like his haphazard plan was shit and going to fall through immediately. 

Just tell them El called. Tell them she saw Billy in the nowhere place and she thinks he’s alive. Easy as pie. 

The tell-tale sound of a skateboard making its way closer and closer announced Max before he saw her. 

Robin was pedaling next to her, helmet lopsided on her head and not buckled underneath her chin. 

They were talking animatedly to one another, their laughter dying as soon as they saw Steve waiting for them.

“Fuck. So this is real.”

“Why does everyone think I got the shit beat outta me?”

“Your ass gets creamed every time some spooky shit goes down in this place, Harrington,” Max informed him. 

She was a little Billy replica, all the way down to the way the corner of her mouth twitched up when she said his name. 

It would’ve been sad. The way she tried to become her brother after losing him so violently last summer. 

But something like relief settled into his bones, strong and real and wait ‘til I tell her Billy’s not dead and he was laughing. Curling in on himself cackling so hard his stomach had already begun to get sore

“Fuck. He’s lost it,” Robin sighed, ditching her bike next to Dustin’s and heaving Steve up, both hands underneath his armpits.

-

Nobody dared speak. 

“And you’re sure? You’re positive you heard one of those things?”

Janet had her arms twisted over her chest, her jaw tight as she watched Hopper’s every move. 

“It’s not really a sound you forget.”

Billy’s hand was shaking, he was gripping the ax so hard. 

“So, we’re fucked,” Angela said harshly. Her cold voice sent ice down Billy’s spine. “If those things are back, we don’t stand a fucking chance.”

Hopper scrubbed his hand over his brow, sighing through the cloth over his mouth and nose.

“It just means I have to try harder. I can get to El, I know I can.”

Hopper said that a lot. But he never explained what getting to El meant. 

Heather had explained she met El once, but she said it was weird and she only saw her like some kind of shadow, a figment in this dark empty place. Somewhere as cold and broken as the Upside Down felt. 

The little one was leaned up against Billy, his left hand balled in the edge of Billy’s leather jacket. He stood like that a lot. It was grounding for Billy. Kinda like holding Max’s hand when she was young and still thought he was the coolest person she’d ever met. 

“But, you only heard something, right? So it very well could be nothing.” Timothy was good at keeping mediator. He always kept a level head and talked slowly and calmly. They needed someone like him in this nightmare.

“They make this noise. This kind of wet chirping. Like this gurgle that just sounds like they’re watching you, ready to pounce out at any time, shrieking and attacking. It’s not a sound you forget.” Hopper had this horrible haunted look on his face, and Billy fucking believed him. 

“Then we up nightwatch. Stick together,” Billy offered. He never usually piped up with strategy, but that’s the best he’s got, and frankly, he thinks it’s the only way they’d all be able to make it through. 

“Exactly. We move in a pack now. Keep track of everyone together, and stay aware of what’s around us. I think we should do a major run and then lock up for a few days to see what goes down.” 

Hopper leaned back in the ratty armchair he was taking up, looking around to see if anyone challenged his ideas. 

Billy had given up his alpha male attitude the second Hopper yanked his upper arm and nearly screamed at him, asking Billy if he was ‘one of the flayed’ all while aggressively checking him over for injuries. 

First time any of Neil’s lessons actually sunk in. 

Respect and responsibility. 

If that fucker could see Billy now, doing nothing but respecting authority and taking responsibility for all these peoples’ lives. 

“We should rest up. Take a run tonight. Get a lay of the land,” Timothy said with an air of finality. Nobody argued. 

Hopper nodded. 

Everyone broke out from the Harringtons’ living room, milling around to get prepared for tonight’s run. Taking stock of what they needed to keep going for the next few days. 

Billy was itching to slide back into his cot and try to seek out that space if he can. The empty space where Harrington and that warm feeling of safe existed. 

The little one stayed clinging to his jacket, and Billy took a loose hold of his wrist, trying to provide some kind of basic comfort to the tiny kid. 

“You wanna go raid the cabinet?” The kid stared up at Billy with big eyes. Billy could never tell what color they were in the gloom. He thinks maybe green. 

The cabinet was a large door, built into the wall of the sitting room, and clearly where the Harringtons kept their games. 

They had these excruciating couple thousand-piece puzzles, the pictures peeling and faded on the pieces. They had Trivial Pursuit and backgammon, and all kindsa shit. 

The little one went and pulled out the checkers board. That was the only game Billy knew how to play anyhow. 

He and Max used to sit for hours, playing with this dinosaur-themed checker game Max’s dad got for her one birthday. 

It helped, playing a game. Helped pass the time. Help bait the anxiety. 

Helped them all feel a little bit closer to human.

-

“I don’t. Get it.”

Apparently, Nancy was not the only one, if the blank stares Steve was receiving from around his living room were anything to go by. 

“Yeah, why did she call you ?” Mike’s snitty tone was really grating on Steve’s fragile nerves.

“She said, she called to make sure everyone could come over here before she told you all to just show up this early on a Sunday morning and then she kinda explained what happened.”

Max was white as a sheet, tracking Steve like he was playing a horrible joke on her. 

“And she saw Billy. Billy Hargrove .” 

Steve nodded at Dustin. 

“Why does she think he’s in the Upside Down?” Robin asked, perched on the coffee table, sitting closest to where he was standing nervously. 

“She just knows .”

It was frustrating, trying to impart the seriousness of the situation without just spilling his guts. 

He rubbed absentmindedly at the cigar burn on his wrist. 

“I just don’t believe this. I talked to her three days ago, and she’s still having trouble with her powers. She can barely move a book, and hasn’t been able to get to the void since July, and you’re saying she accidentally saw Billy Hargrove, who we all saw murder a bunch of people and then get killed -”

“Shut up! He wasn’t himself!” Max shrieked out over Mike, the only time she’d even opened her mouth since Steve had mentioned her stepbrother’s name.

“Even if he is alive, El couldn’t have seen him! It doesn’t make sense!” Mike’s voice rose over Max’s, and Steve has a fucking headache and he’s over it.

“It was me! I had a dream. I went to the void. I saw Billy in the Upside Down. I called El to say she saw him.” 

Everyone went dead silent, staring at him.

“Steve,” Robin began, searching his face.

It was like all the wind that had been filling up his sails, powering his energy ship, had suddenly quit blowing. 

Steve was tired. 

He sank to the floor, crossing his legs where he sat.

“I need you all to shut the fuck up for a moment and let me explain, because I only wanna say all this shit once.” He covered his bloody face with his hands. “I’m like El.”

That statement hung in the air for a moment. 

And then there was a roar of noise.

“How could you keep this a secret?” Dustin shouted.

“Not in a million years !” Lucas decided. Erica yelled something back at him, vaguely defending Steve, which was nice.

“You mean you came from the lab?” Mike had a look on his face like he’d swallowed a particularly bitter lemon. 

“Everybody, shut the fuck up!” Max roared, glowering at each person until they were silent again. 

In all this Robin hadn’t said a word. She was pale, staring at Steve.

“Look, I don’t wanna go into it because it fucking sucks to think about,” Steve still hadn’t uncovered his face. “But yeah. I was in the lab. I got out because they decided I was a failed experiment. My mom worked at the lab and she took me and we pretended like the three of us moved here from Oklahoma and my dad told me never to tell anyone. And I haven’t. Didn’t even tell El. She recognized me from then. Don’t even know how, I left when she was like, three. Doesn’t matter. I’m a freaky lab kid and last night I fell asleep and saw Billy in that-what’d you call it? The void? Yeah, I saw him, and he’s covered in dirt and gross black Upside Down shit, and he’s fucking stuck there, and now we’re here.”

There was another silence. 

Steve didn’t dare to look at any of them.

He didn’t want them to laugh in his face. Tell him he was making all this shit up and leave him alone to deal with Billy trapped somewhere else. 

He wanted them to take his word for it. To quietly believe this crazy fucking shit of a story because the scared other feeling was back and clawing at his spine and making him want to burrow into the ground and find somewhere safe and secure and-

“Okay.”

Of course it was Robin. 

It was always Robin. 

Steve let himself look at her. 

She was pale, but she was smiling at him. 

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Steve nodded once.

“Okay. Uh, great.”

“Wait, if you’re defective, no offense, then how did you see Billy?” 

Steve stared at Max weighing his answer carefully. 

“Because, well, the defective thing, that was all, I didn’t mean to, that was before I really understood what I could do. Don’t get me wrong, it really worked out, but it was an accident.”

“Spit it out, Sailor Man.”

“ Erica .”

Erica just rolled her eyes at Lucas. 

“Okay. Uh, before I explain, just, just keep in mind that I have rules, and I don’t use my powers if I can avoid them, and I’d never use them to be a creep, but-”

“Steve!”

“Fine!” The words were right there, ready to tumble out of his mouth and ruin his life forever. 

There was no going back after this. 

The second they knew, everything would be different.

“I can feel other peoples’ emotions and, like, change them.”

Another silence.

“I don’t understand.”

Nancy was the last person he’d ever want to have this conversation with. 

He knows what she’s thinking. He knows that the great anger brewing inside her is because she assumes he made her like him. Made her attracted to him. 

Made her want him. 

“I don’t use it like that. I would never, put something there that shouldn’t be there. It’s just, When someone feels something near me, I can tap into it. Let it become my own feelings. And then I just, change it. Just a little.” He cast around for a harmless example because so far, everyone was staring at him like a goddamn creep. “Robin!”

She startled slightly when he yelled at her.

“Okay, so Robin. I’d never, ever make you feel something not true to you. Like, I’d never make it so you were into me when you’re totally not, right?” He cast a glance at Nancy. “But, like, the other day, when you felt really shitty when I invited you over and you were studying, I just, I made it so you wouldn’t feel bad. I felt all this guilt you had for leaving me alone when you thought I was having a shitty day, and I made it so you didn’t feel guilty because you shouldn’t. That’s the kinda level I allow myself to work on.”

The look Robin was giving him was breaking his fucking heart. 

Worse still, was the feeling of betrayal that began eating away at her. 

“So, right now. You can tell what we’re all feeling?” Even Lucas, ever the level-headed one, couldn’t look him in the eye.

“I don’t want to. I don’t try to, but I can’t really avoid it. I just try to ignore it. But sometimes, sometimes if I bottle it all up for a while, it comes crashing out of me, and that’s when bad shit happens. If I don’t use it occasionally, it only wakes things worse, and I-”

“I can’t hear this.”

Robin’s anger crashed through Steve like a wave, nearly knocking him over. She stood, towering over him. 

“When we were in that bathroom, all drugged out of our minds. I-” she sniffed, rage tears pooling in her eyes. Steve likes her eyes. So crystal blue. “Are we even really friends?”

Her last question was nothing more than a whisper. 

And it made Steve wish he was never born.

He gaped at her like a dead fish.

“Rob, of course we are! I would never-”

“Because I hated you. And then one summer. Two whole months where we’re close enough that you can get all up in my brain, and suddenly I’m telling you shit I’ve never told anyone before.”

“It wasn’t, Robin I swear, that whole time, I never once used-”

She held up her hand, cutting him off. 

A sob caught in his throat as she turned on her heel. 

She slammed the door closed behind her. 

Another fucking silence. 

Steve couldn’t look anyone in the eye.

Their feelings were enough for him now, betrayal and anger and disappointment rushing into his lungs, drowning him. Choking him. 

“You’ve used them on all of us.”

It wasn’t a question. 

It was just a statement. The coldest he’s ever heard Dustin sound. 

“I just want everyone to be happy.”

“Jesus, Steve. You realize that’s actually totally fucked up, right? You can’t just make us feel whatever you want,” Dustin bellowed at him, standing up like Robin had done, looking down at Steve where he sat pathetically on the floor. 

And, when it’s put like that. 

Sure. 

It’s kinda fucked up. 

But he’s only ever meddled in a way that’s good. He only ever tries to make his friends feel the positives. Hell, on the night of that stupid Snow Ball, he’d given Dustin enough self-confidence to make Madonna seem insecure. 

All he does is try to help. 

“All I do is try to help.”

More fucking silence. 

Steve was so goddamn sick of silence. All he had was silence. He had the nothing, empty quiet. And he didn’t want it from the people who were supposed to make his life loud. 

“El won’t be here until later tonight. I think we should just meet up then.”

Steve buried his head in his hands, biting back sobs as the small group filtered out of his house. 

This is why he had wanted to take this secret with him to death. 

He told everyone who he really is, and now they all hate him, and he’s completely alone, and wherever Billy is he’s fucking scared and-

“Steve?”

Max’s voice was small, mirroring the way she was curled in on herself in the plush armchair near the wall. 

“Do you really think Billy’s alive?”

Steve nodded at her, desperately begging her to stay. To help him. 

“I know he is.”

“I have an idea.”

-

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. 

Doesn’t remember much of anything in this place. 

He studied the water lapping at his muddy boots, dragging his toes through it to make the water wave and ripple. 

It didn’t make a sound. 

“I want to help.”

Billy knew Steve was there even before he spoke. 

Something about the warmth he brought to the void place. 

The safety. 

“Don’t know if you can.”

Steve’s lips twitched into a ghost of a smile at that. His face was covered in blood, dried and flaking away from his skin, painted all the way down his face and neck, some staining the collar of his shirt.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“That happens when the only interactions you have with a guy are to beat his ass.”

Steve cracked a real smile at that. Something big and bright that made Billy’s gut twist in a way he didn’t quite like. 

“You’re forgetting all those other times we spent together. You’re not very subtle, you know.”

Yeah, Billy knows. 

Mostly because he wasn’t trying to be subtle. 

He had talked to Steve about his bitchy ex while they both had their dicks out in the shower. He was trying to be very much un-subtle. 

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

“I know.”

Oh. 

Steve knows. 

And all he had done was stare blankly at Billy. 

Nice. 

“I need to know where you are.”

“Why?” 

“Because I can help.”

Billy just blinked at Steve. 

“Do you know El?”

Something funny happened to Steve’s face. He kind of gave a little smile that flickered into a frown and landed on something a little pinched and awkward. 

“Yeah. How do you know her?”

“Hopper keeps saying he needs to get to her. None of us know what he’s talking about.”

And with that, Steve’s eyes went huge, and his jaw dropped. The water at Billy’s ankles sloshed quietly. 

“Hopper’s there? Chief Hopper? Jim Hopper is there?”

“Jesus, yeah. Been here since we all woke up.”

Steve acted like Billy had told him that Farrah Fawcett herself was on her way to shave his head. 

Meaning, he looked struck fucking dumb. 

“I’m gonna need you to explain.”

“I don’t know. Don’t remember much. Crashed my car on one of your shitty backwoods roads, and then everything is just, kinda, gone. I woke up in this shithole version of the library and Hopper found me here and we’ve kinda set up camp.”

Billy shrugged lamely. Something was dripping, he could hear the sound of it far behind him.

“There’s more of you? How many?”

“Not as many as there should be.”

Steve’s mouth pinched, and his big droopy eyes went all sweet and sad. 

“Where are you? Where’s the camp?”

Billy was suddenly embarrassed. There was a sound like a stream flowing over rocks.

What’s he supposed to say? The hellscape skeleton of your house oh and by the way all your stuff is here and I slept in your bed once because I was scared and sad.

“Someone’s house. Don’t know whose.”

Steve huffed some air out of his nostrils, his mouth pinching again. 

Billy hadn’t realized someone could make so many different expressions just by pursing their lips in different ways. 

“Find out. We’re coming to get you.”

A crash of a wave, and Billy was back in hell. 

-

Steve sucked in lungfuls of air, tossing the towel that had been covering his eyes to the ground. 

“You saw him.” 

Max was sitting in front of him, the t.v. playing static behind her. 

“Yeah. He’s okay. I mean, he’s really gross. Like, he’s-sorry. He’s okay.”

Max was still staring at him like she didn’t quite know how to proceed. 

“But he’s in the Upside Down?”

“Yeah. And there’s others. He said Hopper’s there, that he’s been trying to contact El.”

“Wait, Hopper? He’s alive?”

“Billy said all of the flayed woke up after the Fourth of July in the Upside Down. He doesn’t know anything that happened in this world, and Hopper was there and they’ve set up, like, some kind of camp, or whatever. He said they’re in someone’s house. He doesn’t know who.”

“ Fuck .”

Yeah, Steve agrees with that sentiment. 

This whole thing was like, kind of a lot. 

And deep inside him, those other feelings had yet to leave him alone all day. 

There was some kind of disappointment knocking about in his brain. 

He knows it’s Billy. 

All of those other feelings, it’s whatever Billy is feeling right that minute wherever he is. 

And it only happens when Steve is-

“Max, he’s here.”

She whipped around behind her, staring at the front door like Billy could waltz through it at any moment. 

“No, no not here, here .” She clearly didn’t understand. He used the towel to wipe the fresh blood from his upper lip, still having yet to clean himself up any. “The camp, the safeplace, it’s here. They’ve set up in my house!”

It felt like a revelation on par with the greatest inventions. Steve felt like the scientist that landed the man on the moon or the very first person to melt cheese onto fries. 

A genius. 

“So, he’s, I mean, he could be, just, here .” She looked over the room wistfully, and Steve knew how she felt. Like she wanted to pierce her hands into thin air, tearing a hole in between the two worlds and ripping Billy straight outta hell. 

(Really, she just filled him with a wave of fierce determination, but Steve likes to take poetic license on other people’s feelings sometimes.)

“And you can feel him.”

“Yeah.”

“Is he, okay?”

And he knows this question. 

Not the okay he assured her of when he first saw Billy. Soothing that he wasn’t missing any internal organs or possessed by any monsters. 

She wants to know if he’s held it together. 

“He’s scared. He’s always scared. But he’s really fucking stubborn, and he- I don’t know why he feels these things, but sometimes he gets kinda sad. Almost like he’s lost something, and sometimes, it feels like he’s caught fire, and his insides are just going up in flame and he gets overwhelmed by them. And sometimes he feels-” He hadn’t meant to continue.

“Tell me.”

He’s pretty sure Max knew what he was going to say next. 

She just wanted it confirmed. 

“Hopeless. Sometimes he feels hopeless.”

She sniffed, her eyes shining as she looked anywhere that wasn’t Steve. 

“But, we know now. He doesn’t have to be hopeless anymore. We’ll find a way in, and we’ll get him out.”

He didn’t want to manipulate her. 

He didn’t want to cross the boundaries everyone clearly thought he already had. 

But he was positive he would find a way to Billy. He was positive he would get him out and get him home. 

He sent a wave of that determination and hope and conviction to her. 

“Yeah. We’ll get him.”

-

“Hopper, man, some funky shit is going down.”

Hopper whirled around quickly, halfway to his feet and asking who's been hurt before Billy raised both hands, acting like he was calming an anxious horse.

“Nah, sorry, shoulda worded that better. I just mean, something’s happened to me. With me, maybe. I don’t know. Just hear me out. This shit’s gonna sound, insane.”

Hopper didn’t say anything as Billy explained, beginning with that night when the wall shattered next to his head, and ending with his most recent trip to the void place. 

Billy shrugged lamely when he finished explaining. 

“So, Harrington, huh? Never woulda guessed he was like her. You sure you didn’t see a little girl anywhere in the blank place?”

“No. It was just us. Both times.”

Hopper leaned back in his chair, scratching a hand through his thick beard. 

“The first time one of the demogorgons showed up on our side was behind Steve’s house. Took Will Byers from his shed. They live some few miles away. Second time was in Harrington’s backyard. Took Barbara Holland.” Hopper sighed, looking in the direction of the busted radio. Billy could more or less see the cogs turning in his head. “If you see him again, tell him where we are. Tell him I think the walls are thinnest here. That maybe he and El could tear through. Better yet, tell him to find me if he can.”

He clapped Billy on the shoulder, looking right at him in that way he did sometimes. It always made Billy feel like a little kid. 

“Thank you, kid. You might’ve just saved us.”

Billy felt awkward and didn’t really know what to do with his face. Thankfully, Hopper turned away from him, cutting the moment short and moving back to fiddling with the old radio. 

Billy ducked his way up and back to the furthest bedroom on the ground floor, taking a seat on his low cot and digging his palms into his eyes. 

He didn’t know how the void happened. If he could only get there in his sleep, or if it was Steve’s doing somehow. 

“C’mon, Steve. Where are you? Come find me, Pretty Boy. We gotta talk.”

When he moved his hands away, he was in that blank place. 

Billy was taken aback a bit, thinking somehow he had created the place around him. 

Until he saw Steve, standing nervously and staring at Billy. 

“I felt you. What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, you felt me? What in the fuck’s that supposed to mean.”

“Don’t worry about it. What happened? Are you guys okay?”

Steve wasn’t covered in blood anymore. 

In fact, he looked freshly showered, his hair slightly damp and soft-looking without product. 

It’s how he always looked right after having a post-practice shower. Clean and warm. Soft and inviting. 

“I talked to Hopper. He told me to give you a message.”

Steve’s eyes lit up, and he took a step towards Billy, the water rippling where his foot disturbed the surface. 

“He said, well. He told me where we are. Apparently, we’re at your place.” Billy tried to smirk a little, act like this was brand new information to him.

“Yeah. I gathered.”

“He thinks the walls are thinnest at your place. Said that maybe you and El could tear through easily. That mean anything to you?”

Steve nodded so hard his bangs flopped right into his eyes. 

He pushed his hair out of his face, tucking some behind his ear. Billy tracked the movement. 

“We’re going to try tonight. Maybe around six. Can you guys be ready by then?”

“We don’t have any way to track time around here. Don’t even know if it’s day or night, really.”

Steve bit his soft bottom lip, looking at Billy like he wanted to cry for him. 

“Then I’ll come and get you before. Warn you when we’re about to start. Make sure everyone stays close. I don’t know how long we’ll be able to keep it sustained, and we want to get everyone out if we can.”

“Steve, man, what in the fuck is going on? I’ve been shut up in this place for, for I don’t even know how long, and all of a sudden, you just start showing up in my head and telling me that you’re gonna take point on this big fuckin’ rescue mission.”

Billy doesn’t want to admit it to anyone, least of all Steve Harrington, but he’s scared, and confused, and he genuinely wishes that he had died in that library instead of waking up. 

“I’ll explain it when you get back.” 

And Steve smiled at him and the corners of his eyes crinkled and Billy didn’t quite feel like he wanted to die anymore. 

-

“Where are they?”

El didn’t even say hello when she pushed Steve’s front door open, just made straight for Max and Steve in the sitting room.

“They’re all being dicks,” was Max’s answer. “Steve told us about how you two know each other, and everyone kinda freaked.”

“I mean, it’s pretty freaky.”

“Yeah, sure, but they didn’t need to be such shitbirds about it.”

Somewhere between feeling harshly angry at Steve and his powers and hearing her brother’s voice crackle through the television speaker, Max had pretty much ensconced Steve as her sidekick. 

Which he didn’t mind in the least. 

It was kinda odd seeing the Byers in his house. 

Jonathan looked. Exactly the same. 

Like literally. His hair had grown out since his mother had taken a pair of scissors and a bowl to it last summer, and he looked just like the Hawkins Jonathan Steve was used to. 

It was kinda nice. 

At least one thing hasn’t changed. 

Especially because Will is pretty much unrecognizable. 

He had shot up, growing until he could nearly look Steve in the eye. And thank God, he must've followed Jonathan’s footsteps and stopped letting Joyce cut his hair. 

It was longer, adn shaggier, but it made him look so grown up. 

Nearly as grownup as El, her hair nearly down to her shoulder blades, the top of her head coming up on Steve’s chin, showing off the signs of her own growth spurt. 

Even Joyce was sporting a new look. Longer hair with bangs that were swept off her face.

She gave Steve a comforting hug, and those were just the same. 

Unease filled the room. 

Nobody knew what they were walking into. El had to have given them the basics, and Steve figures she explained some on the long drive back to town, but there had been even more developments since the last they had spoken this morning. 

Steve sifted through the borderline panic of Max and the Byers, clinging onto the fierce calm that El was radiating. Probably for his benefit more than her own actual experience. 

“I know where Billy is. We talked. I have an idea.” He took a deep breath, bracing himself for the feelings. “Hopper’s alive.”

It took a second. 

El’s carefully maintained calm wavered for a moment. 

And then it crashed down. 

Disbelief, relief, denial, anger, hope, joy. 

Everything a person could possibly feel at once poured out of El and Joyce both, nearly knocking Steve off his feet with the sheer velocity of the emotions. 

“Saw him?”

“No. But Billy mentioned him. He said he’s been trying to get to you.”

El’s eyes filled with tears, and Steve could feel the satisfaction, the pride, welling up in her that Hopper was still thinking of her. That he was trying to reach out. 

“My powers,” she trailed off.

“Yeah. I know. But, he said, well, he told Billy to tell me, he thinks the walls are thinnest here. Maybe in the woods outback. He thinks we can do it.”

Sorry,” Joyce interrupted. She had gathered herself somewhat, but her feelings were still shaky. 

She always felt like she was trembling emotionally. Joyce felt everything nearly as viscerally as Billy did. 

“I think we’re not on the same page. Steve, you spoke to Billy? El said she sensed him.”

“Steve is like me. From Papa.”

“You mean, from the lab?” Jonathan clarified. 

Everyone was staring at Steve again and he felt like burrowing a hole right through the floor and hiding underground forever. 

“Yeah, I got out when I was a kid. My parents were pretty hell-bent on hiding it from everyone. But. You know. Cat’s outta the bag now. But yes, it was me who saw Billy. He’s in the Upside Down. A bunch of people are. Including Hopper. It sounds like they were all taken and the flayed people out here were like, fake. Like evil twin versions.”

Sure, it’s a shitty explanation.

It’s the best he can do, okay? Leave him alone. 

“So, what’s his plan, then?”

That’s the good thing about the Byers, though. They get the whole, priority thing. Now’s not the time to focus on shit like Steve’s fake life. Not when the Upside Down is concerned. 

“Billy didn’t say much. Just that he thinks maybe El and I could like, band together to open it. I don’t really know how, I mean, I haven’t thought about it much, I just spoke to him, but that's the idea. I told him I would meet him in the void or whatever before we go so he can gather everyone and get ready.”

“So, is it just us?” Will asked quietly, biting the inside of his cheek. He was disappointed. His friends not being where they were needed. Not being there to see him for the first time since his family moved away months ago. 

Steve shrugged.

He was battling his own disappointment and hurt at everyone ditching him. 

“No. Let’s start calling. We need to stick together for this one. Billy hasn’t said anything about how bad the Upside Down has been, and we need to be ready to fight off anything that tries to get through.”

“Max is right. They should be here.” Will was already making his way to the phone placed on the side table. “They need to be here.” 

Jonathan caught Steve’s eye, jerking his head slightly to the hallway. 

Steve followed him, already knowing the line of questioning that was about to hit him. 

“I knew you called El. I picked up this morning. Now the story makes a lot more sense, I guess.”

“Yeah. I’ve been getting this weird feeling for a couple months, but I finally put it all together. Probably would’ve happened faster it is was El.”

“I don’t know. She’s been struggling a lot. She practices every day, but,” he sighed” I don’t know if she’s strong enough to make this work.”

He’s worried, adn scared, and has that exact same tremble-feeling that his mother does. 

“I know. I just don’t think we can leave them any longer. Billy said they’ve already lost people. I don’t know what it’s been like for them, but they’ve been stuck for fucking months, and-”

This time, it hit him so hard he really did blackout. 

His vision clouded around him, and his whole body burned with the raging fear inside of him. 

He could hear something, could hear someone screaming, adn something, something that sounded horrible, and so very very like a-

-

“Demogorgon!”

It’s like it had come out of nowhere. 

This towering figure, long and thin in all the wrong fucking ways.

And the sound. Billy realized what Hopper meant about how it’s not something you forget. 

They were in some form of a ready position. 

Billy among the front of the group, holding his ax he had never let go of in the first place. 

His heart was pounding. 

We’ll be out soon. We’ll be out soon. 

He didn’t believe it. 

How could he?

How the fuck is Steve Harrington going to get them out of the worst place ever? No offense to him or anything, but the guy could barely make a goddamn milkshake without spilling something on the sticky tile floor of Scoops Ahoy! and now, Billy’s life is in this guy’s hands while he stares into the jaws of a monster that looks like it stepped right out of H.P. Lovecraft’s wettest dreams.

It’s not like this is the first time he’s had this realization, but he is in way over his fucking head. 

“Steve,” Billy grumbled to himself through gritted teeth. “If you can hear me, get us the fuck outta here.”

The thing ahead of them wasn’t moving. It stood in the line of the trees behind Steve’s house. 

It was staring down the clump of people on the other side of the backyard. 

The air was still. 

Billy’s ears were ringing. 

He stared the thing down. 

Its long fingers twitched. 

Someone screamed. 

And the thing charged. 

It roared like nothing Billy had ever heard before. A shriek that seemed to vibrate Billy’s bones and tremble the earth underneath his feet. 

It charged. 

Sprinting forward on long thin legs, it loped with a grace that turned Billy’s stomach and made his knees wobble and threaten to give out. 

Plant your feet. 

It rang through his head, Steve’s voice from, some time Billy couldn’t remember. Or maybe Steve was just the little voice that commanded his bravery now. 

Either way, he dug the balls of his feet into the cracked ground, and waited. 

Don’t stop fighting.

He swung. 

The ax clocked right into the side of the thing, barely cutting into its thick leathery skin, but it slowed it down. 

Well, actually. 

It made it change course from attacking the group as a whole, to honing in on Billy. 

Which was less than awesome. 

Billy wrenched the ax out of its tough body, thick, sticky black goo connecting the ax with its entry point as he drew it away. 

He swung again, nearly hitting the same place. 

The thing cried out, roaring over the sound of screaming and gunshots. 

Hopper had his rifle trained on the flowered head of the one Billy was furiously chopping into like a tree. 

There were two more, two he hadn’t noticed in his preoccupation with the one in front of him. 

He didn’t know who was who. Which gunshot belonged to which gun, which shriek belonged to which animal. 

He didn’t know if the cries of pain were from the awful beasts or the people in his camp. He was hoping the former. 

He swung again. There was a sickening sound of the metal blade connecting with something solid. Something like bone. 

Hopper shot it, once, twice in the head. 

It was whining, making a high-pitched noise as it staggered about. 

One last blow to the side of the thing, and it was finished. 

The monster flopped onto the ground, dark liquid oozing out of it, its body nearly split in half where Billy had hammered it with his ax. A great gaping wound that showed sticky dark entrails. 

Billy turned. 

His brain was working in slow motion as he charged into the battle still raging. 

He didn’t know how many of the things had arrived. 

All he knew was taking them out.

His arms were sore from the force he was putting into each blow with his ax. His muscles threatened to give out at any moment.

Drive them back. We’re coming. 

The thought was shoved into his head. He didn’t know where it came from but he believed it. 

“Help is on the way!” He shouted to no one and everyone. 

He had taken down two more demogorgons with the help of the others. One was missing its body, a petal head lolling on the ground, getting trampled on in the fight. 

-

Steve had felt the demogorgon before Billy saw it. 

It was an odd feeling, almost like it was a black hole sucking up everything he thought and felt before he could cling onto it. 

It made him feel cold, and empty, and just like the Upside Down felt. 

“We don’t have time!”

El was insisting on contacting the others. She was livid with them for abandoning Steve, but things were taking a turn for the small group trapped in that hellscape. 

“Steve’s right. If there’s a demogorgon there, that means the Mind Flayer has gotten some strength back, wherever he is.”

Steve nodded at Will gratefully.

“But, what’s the idea? You two open the gate. Then what? We wait for those things to come through to our side?” Jonathan asked, kinda harshly, if you ask Steve.

Steve rubbed his eyes, his fists pressing against them so hard he was seeing odd shapes. 

“No. I go through. I get them. I bring them back.” His head was a fucking mess. Billy was all over the place. Fear, desperation, and a horrible calm that only came when things looked like the end. Plant your feet, he thought, trying to get his feelings to Billy through the thin dimensional wall. Don’t stop fighting. “For the past few days, all I’ve been able to feel is somebody else’s fucking fear and this stupid stupid stubbornness and I know it’s Billy, and I know he’s in trouble. Like right now. The demogorgons are coming for them, and he’s so scared. He’s so fucking scared and he thinks he’s gonna die, and he’s trapped .”

He looked at each person individually, glaring at them all in the eye. 

“We don’t have time.”

So it was decided. 

He brought El outside, and stared into the shimmering water of the pool. 

The pool where a demon came out and dragged Barbara to her death. 

It gave him the fucking creeps. Well, it more gave him the severe anxiety, but there was something about it that made it seem like it was the best place to try and rip the fold between himself and Billy. 

Drive them back. We’re coming. 

He wanted Billy to have some hope. Something like a lifeline that would keep him fighting the monsters. 

He had wrenched his nail bat out of the wall it was still planted in from a few nights ago, and stood next to El, ready to try. 

“To be honest, I don’t know how to help you.” It was the only thing that scared him about this plan. “I don’t have the same powers as you. The telekin-the moving stuff around. I don’t know how to open this.”

She looked at him thoughtfully. 

“In Chicago. Kali. When I’m angry my powers are better,” she took his hand. “Make me angry.”

Steve closed his eyes. 

He tried to push Billy to the side, clinging onto the first bit of El he could sense. 

Her anger was like a melted core running through her. Driving her in a lot of ways. 

He grabbed onto it. 

Papa. Everything he did to your mama. Being locked in isolation. Fights with Hopper. Being trapped in the cabin. Feeling alone and not knowing how to fix it. New kids at school being mean. Techs in the lab that treated us like rats. The smell of skin burning. Parents that called you a freak. 

He didn’t know when he had stopped using El’s ready-made rage, and began siphoning his own straight into the beating heart of her fury. 

His gut began to feel white-hot, and he could feel the blood dripping down his lip. 

Lying to everyone. Being abandoned for the truth. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. 

Steve was livid. 

He’s never felt an emotion consume him like this. Felt one feeling take over so completely it’s like there was nothing else in the world. 

He opened his eyes. 

There was blood flowing steadily from El’s nose, and he knew his was doing the same. 

He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs, his body going into overdrive to divert all of his energy to his powers. 

The rift glowed red through the clear pool water, splitting open like a seam on a well-worn shirt. 

The burn on his arm ached, and he pushed into it. 

He remembered being held down on his father’s desk. Remembers the cigar being forced against his skin, bubbling up and disfiguring the tattoo beyond recognition. 

He remembers his father, this is for your own good, Steven. You’ll tell everyone you had an accident. People won’t question a burn like they will a tattoo. 

Like no one would take one look at the quarter-sized mark and know what would make it. 

He remembers getting the tattoo. 

It was nearly the same process. 

He was strapped down in a chair, his screams going ignored as the needle drove into his skin over and over, leaving a neat black number behind. 

001

Number One. 

The first in a series of children bred for something more, and beaten into acceptance. 

His head felt like it could explode. He didn’t know what was going on around him, was barely aware of El’s sweaty hand in his, and the bright red light coming from the cracked bottom of the pool. 

It was open. 

Number One took a deep breath, and dived into the pool. 

-

It was the little one that noticed it. 

Billy had been trying to yell at him to get back inside, to keep himself out of harm’s way. 

They had killed six demogorgons, and more were certainly coming. 

The trees in the forest were rustling in a way they never did on their own. 

The little one was pointing frantically, his eyes wide and scared. 

Billy turned, and his blood ran cold. 

Something was moving in the pool. 

It was making the thick non-water slosh around dangerously, the dark liquid lapping over the sides and staining the concrete. 

There were vines crisscrossing over the surface of the liquid, and Billy approached it carefully, hoping whatever was coming out would be trapped underneath them. 

“This is the last fucking thing we need,” Hopper gritted out, cocking his rifle and aiming at the sludge. 

And then Billy’s head felt like it had been cracked open. 

He was blinded with pain and rage and 

Help me, Hargrove!

He started swinging his ax wildly at the vines. Trying to break them apart enough for a body to fit through. 

His heart thundered in his chest, and he dropped to his knees, ripping at the slimy black tendrils. 

He shoved his left arm in.

It was like dousing his arm in ice. Like the liquid was made from the purest essence of cold. 

He searched frantically with his hand, finding something solid and yanking with all his strength. 

He had to put both arms in, grabbing hold of whatever he could, using his body weight as leverage to extract Steve from the cold. 

He was limp when Billy finally got him out, but breathing heavily. 

He opened his eyes, wiping his face free of the goop and blood covering him, and grinned at Billy. 

“Told’ya we would get you out.”

They shepherd him inside, most of the gang speechless and struck dumb from the events of the past while. 

Steve was given a change of almost clean clothes, and allowed to use some of their bottled water ration to clean the freezing black fluid from himself. 

He wasted little time, and was down in the Upside Down version of his living room with everyone else. 

“We can’t be long. El had to use a lot of strength to open it, but she’ll need her strength to close it, too.” 

Nobody knew what in the fuck Steve was going on about. 

Nobody but Hopper, that is. 

He still had disgusting pool sludge all over his front from when he pulled Steve into a tight hug when he had gotten his bearings back from his journey through the rift. 

“We can’t send people through that shit. It took all of Billy’s muscle to get you outta there.”

“So we drain it,” Steve insisted. “My parents drain it sometimes, I know how to do it.”

“I’ll keep watch. Make sure nothing tries to make itself known.”

Billy had barely wiped himself off. 

He didn’t care anymore about how freezing that shit was, he just wanted to surge forward, and get back the fuck home.

Hopper studied them both.

“Bring weapons. Yell if you need help.”

Billy nodded once, and turned on his heel, following Steve out the back door. 

Steve led him to a wooden shed on the side of the house. Billy had to clear the vines away from it before Steve could pry open the doors. 

It was full of pool equipment, and it didn’t take long for Steve to locate a large grubby pump. He knocked it against the wall of the shed until the filter attachment clattered off, leaving bigger openings for the sludge to, hopefully, run through. 

“Shit. This thing is electric. You got electricity?” 

It was the first time Steve had really gotten a good look at Steve since being in the Upside Down. 

He looked exactly as he had in the void place. His hair had a lot more disgusting black fluid in it, and he overall looked kinda shitty with the flecks of grime and blood on his face, but he looked bright. Alive. Strong. 

“How did you do it? Take me to that place. Figure out we were here.” 

Steve flushed. Billy had become overly aware that his face was completely covered under his bandana. Steve should cover his face. 

He drew another one of his back pocket, and, he didn’t know why, but he tied it around Steve’s face. 

Seriously, he could’ve just handed it to the guy and called it good there. But no. He had to set his ax on the ground, propped against his leg, wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders, and tie the bandana like this was some intricate ritual. 

All while Steve just stared at him with those fuckin’ eyes of his. 

“It’s a long story.” Billy could barely hear Steve speak through the dirty cloth now covering his mouth and nose. “I’ll tell you when we’re back. When we’re safe.”

“I’m holding you to that, Harrington. Can’t have a guy poking around my dreams and shouting in my head without knowing his intentions.”

It was as close to flirting as Billy dared right now. 

Right before they tried to journey between worlds. 

“Good to know you heard me. I was trying to give you something of a pep talk.”

“Well, it worked. I would’ve just put my arms out and let those things rip me to shreds if I hadn’t have known.”

Billy didn’t know what Steve’s face was doing behind the cloth, but his eyes dropped, and Billy imagined that little cinch of his mouth that he had noticed Steve doing so much in that void place.

-

Billy meant it as a joke. 

He really did. 

And the Billy that was torn to bits in the mall wasn’t this Billy. Wasn’t the real Billy that was made out of real Billy materials and real Billy personality. 

But it still made Steve feel queasy, thinking about his arms spread wide, black goop pouring out of his mouth and nose as the Mind Flayer decimated him. 

“We’ve got a lot to talk about, Billy. Just, not now.” 

And Steve turned off, hauling the pump back to the pool and taking calming breaths. 

The pump sank without much effort, like there was some kind of gravitational pull at the bottom of the pool. 

Steve had connected the thickest hose he could find, adn sent Billy off with the extension cord to find an outlet that didn’t spark and threaten fire. 

Before no time, the pump was humming, and pushing black slime through the hose and onto the dead grass. 

They didn’t need to get it all out, just as much as they could shove everyone through. 

Steve closed his eyes, trying to reach El like he had Billy. 

We had a hold up. Shouldn’t be long. 

He could feel her on the other side. 

She promised she would stay close enough to the rift that Steve could get in touch with her. 

He could feel something slither down his spine, a wordless confirmation from her. 

The liquid in the pool was slowly edging down, leaving a stain on the once-white walls of the pool. 

“Gather everyone up. Tell ‘em to meet out here. Tell ‘em to leave it all behind.”

Billy was still staring at the edge of the forest when he commanded Steve. 

It was odd, being in his house that’s not his house. 

Everything was so. Wrong. 

From the way the house seemed to be crumbling down, reduced to its studs in some areas, to the way it was still clearly his house. Paintings his father had bought. Elegant furniture his mother selected. 

It was all there. Just under a thick layer of dirt and nightmares. 

He thought idly about his bedroom, wondering if it would look like it did on his end. A little messy, the sheets typically rumpled and unmade. 

He resisted the urge to wander upstairs, reminding himself he was on a mission. 

“It’s time. Don’t bring anything. It’ll probably be ruined along the way.”

Everyone looked grave. Steve tried to smile at them, tried to push through some calmness to them all. He had forgotten Billy’s bandana was tied around his face. He sent one last wave of quiet confidence around the room, and led the group through the kitchen. 

They had barely rounded the corner of the kitchen island when they heard a strangled yell from outside. 

Steve put his head down, and sprinted through the shattered glass doors, skidding to a halt in the threshold. 

Billy was staggering backward, his ax forgotten on the ground and his left hand was clinging wildly to his right shoulder. 

His jacket was in tatters, thick blood dripping bright crimson down his arm, standing out like neon against the dark, dirty ground. 

Steve didn’t feel himself moving forward. He didn’t feel his hands raising in front of him. 

He just felt anger. The same anger from before that had ripped through him like a raging forest fire and straight into El. 

The thing shrieked. 

It backed away from Billy, twisting and writhing as its horrible screams filled the air, making the hair on the back of Steve’s neck stand on end. 

Fierce fury was exploding out of him, and he grit his teeth against the pounding in his head. 

“You don’t get to hurt him,” Steve barely barked out. 

All went still, and the demogorgon snapped into pieces. 

Steve felt like he could pass out where he stood. 

He had never felt so wrung dry. 

His vision was waning at the edges, and he felt an arm around his waist, coaxing him toward the red light now barely shining through a thin layer of slime in the pool. 

“Hold your breath, Pretty Boy.”

-

Steve was limp against him, and Billy was doing his best to ignore the searing pain in his right shoulder as he held Steve close to his side. He had fumbled off both of their face coverings, moving clumsily through the pain of his injury. 

He took one last breath, and jumped into the rip between worlds. 

He plunged into the water, the crystal blue of a chlorinated pool. 

It was the best feeling in the world. 

Being covered and surrounded by clean. The heated water doing more to soothe Billy’s frayed nerves than anything in his life. 

He kicked hard, swimming one-armed to the surface, Harrington a dead weight in his injured arm. 

His head broke the water, and he took in deep lungfuls of clean, crisp air. 

Someone was tugging at Steve, and Billy, for the first time in his fucking life, was glad to see those kids Max was constantly hanging around. 

A woman Billy didn’t know was fawning over Steve, feeling for a pulse, and looking relieved when she felt his hot breath against her palm. 

“There’s more coming,” Billy coughed. 

He barely managed to get the words out, dripping muck and grime on the cement by the pool, when it felt as though he was hit from the side by a speeding train. 

He buried his nose in bright orange hair, hugging Max back as tightly as he could manage. 

He was exhausted, and feeling her there, alive and okay, was all that was keeping him standing. 

“I thought, I mean, we all thought you were dead. We saw it. That thing killed you .” Billy realized, with a whole lotta horror, that she was crying. Sobbing outright into his dirty chest. 

“Yeah, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” How could they have seen when that monster just came at him? 

“Oh, you’re bleeding.”

And if she only just realized he was hurt?

Max frog-marched Billy inside, to a very pale-looking Nancy Wheeler, sitting ready with a first aid kit. 

Billy had to peel his clothes off his body, the fabric stuck to him like a second skin. 

Nobody was speaking, and more of the people locked in the other place came traipsing into the room, fluffy towels wrapped around their shoulders. 

Hopper was the last to come in, holding the woman tight to his side underneath the striped pool towel. 

“Steve and El are closing it back up.”

There was a quiet murmur around the room.

Nancy patched up Billy’s shoulder, Max still stuck to his side like glue, the little boy from camp pasted to his other side. 

He had no idea how much time had past when Steve finally came traipsing into the room with Max’s little friend, both of them sporting matching bloody noses. 

Steve looked like shit. 

His face was covered in blood, old and new, and he still had some of the gross not-liquid in his hair from the Upside Down. 

But Billy doesn’t think he’s ever been happier to see someone in his life. 

“I’m sure everyone has questions,” said the woman tucked against Hop’s side. El, Billy assumes, had taken her place on Hop’s other side, wrapping the towel around her shoulders as well. 

The woman launched into a story that made Billy feel like his brain was oozing out of his ears. 

A monster. One they had all met before. Playing body snatcher in their sleepy little town. 

Apparently, one had been wearing a Billy meat-suit and wreaking havoc around town, which made Billy wanna throw up until he died. 

Which, not-Billy, had died. Fuckin’ brutally. And in front of everyone. Which sure as shit explained why Max wouldn’t let go of his sweaty hand. 

The story made Billy queasy, and he took to studying everyone in the room instead. 

All the kids were there, even the one that had been following Steve around like a little shadow, but they were all glaring in the very much opposite direction of Steve. 

Steve himself was pressed almost against the wall, looking like he’d collapse if the wall weren’t supporting him. 

“What’s up with the cold shoulder?” Billy muttered to Max.

“They’re mad at Steve right now. He’s been lying to us all.”

It was all he got out of her before everyone started moving around. 

The woman, Joyce Byers, he’s learned, had finished her story, and the group from the Upside Down had begun clamoring for rides home, or maybe something to eat. 

Billy just saw Steve manage to slip away before he followed him. 

It took some doing, shaking off the little one, who still wasn’t speaking, and looked ready to burst into tears when Billy told him to stay behind in the living room. 

But Janet Holloway took the kid’s other hand and gently led him back into the living room. 

Billy nodded at her, and sped up the stairs. 

It was weird, being in Harrington’s actual room. 

It was messy, and looked like Steve spent most of his time here tossing clothes on the ground or twisting up in his bed covers like a tornado. 

But it was oddly comforting. 

Being in Steve’s real room, and not some perverse dirty copy. 

Steve was standing, facing the bed, peeling his borrowed jacket from his shoulders and leaving it there on the floor.

“I never said thank you.”

Steve startled at Billy’s voice.

“Yeah. No problem.” Steve’s tone was light and airy, but Billy heard him sniff.

“Max said the little shitbirds are mad at you. Something about you lying.” 

Steve turned around, giving Bily a watery smile.

“It’s a long story.”

“I got time.”

So Steve told him. 

About the lab. 

About the experiments. 

About the torture. 

He explained that he had rules. Never making anyone feel something they already didn’t. Never altering someone’s opinion of, or feelings towards him. 

Billy grit his teeth as he imagined Wheeler giving Steve a hard time about that.

Steve was silent for a moment, not looking at Billy.

“It’s okay if you hate me. I mean, everyone does now.”

“You'd be able to feel if I hated you. You and those powers of yours just saved my life, Pretty Boy. I’m pretty sure I’m feeling the farthest thing from hatred just about now.”

It was as close to a confession as Billy would let himself get. 

But if Steve knows what he’s feeling at any given moment, then that means that he knows, and he didn’t-

“Quit it. Insecurity isn’t a good look on you.”

Steve sounded tired, and he flopped back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling with his arms out. 

At first, it didn’t sit quite right with Billy. 

He had barely even begun to identify what he was feeling when Steve swooped in and just point blank told him what the emotion was. 

Billy spent nearly all of his time being a big fuckin’ facade. 

He tried his very best to hide any emotional tell from anyone around him. 

He prided himself on being a chameleon. That nobody would ever truly know how he felt in any given situation. 

And here’s pretty boy Steve Harrington. Who is feeling just as, if not more, strongly as Billy is. 

But, it takes out all the parts of emotions that Billy hates dealing with. 

Showing them. Talking about them. 

He’d never once had to grapple with the words to explain how he feels to Steve. 

Steve would just. 

He’d know. 

And god, that’s kind of a nice idea. 

Billy sat down gently on the bed. 

“Alright.”

Steve’s head popped up to stare incredulously at Billy. 

Billy just grinned at him. 

[your-localfriendandboy]

Hey y’all get ready I’m about to write a whole thing about why I love barbarians and y’all are gonna deal with it.

So like mechanically I love barbarians because I love playing tanks in rpgs to begin with. The high armor, massive hp pool and simple game mechanics means that I can just charge in an do my job even if I can’t big brain strategize on the spot and even if I don’t have the aim and reflexes of a sharpshooter. I pick the biggest threat and hit it till it stops moving. Simple and fun. Narratively Barbarians are usually given the role of “stupid beef man who only know fight and can’t read beyond a third grade level”. Like I love Grog but he’s treated as the standard of what every Barbarian should be. I, on the other hand, see Barbarians as having a large well of untapped story potential.

At their core Barbarians are characters who are driven by strong emotion. The ability itself is called rage but the emotion at the core of your Barbarian doesn’t have to be anger. Grogs Rage was more like a battle frenzy, a feral exaltation of the joy that Grog takes in violence. Yasha’s rage is more an expression of grief and pain and a desire to protect her family. But rage can be any number of things. You could have a barbarian driven completely by passionate love who has hearts in their eyes and a great axe in their hand. You could have a barbarian who’s rage mode is triggered by fear and they’re essentially having a huge panic attack. You can play with how your barbarian feels about their rage. One of my Barbarians is a robot who’s lost his memory and is essentially a giant toddler. His rage is flavored as his old programming taking over and turning him into a singleminded killing machine. He hates his rage and is terrified of the thing he becomes under it’s influence. Another barbarian might find joy in embracing their rage such as a concept I had of a zealot barbarian serving Dionysus and seeing the rage as a ritualistic madness and a way of communing with their god. You could have a character who rages like real world berserkers by ingesting herbs that drive them into a battle madness. The Hulk is the literally personification of Bruce Banners rage and negative emotions which he repressed after his dad killed his mom and now that imaginary friend can take over his body and wreck house. The possibilities are endless and fun and not just “me angry and hit thing hard”

Playing a barbarian hero is interesting for several reasons. It asks you questions about your opinions on violence and anger as well as what makes a person “civilized” as well as whether being “civilized” is even something to aspire to in the first place. It helps you come to terms with you’re own strong emotions. Barbarians are the enemies of repression. They usually are either completely not repressed to start, or learn to make peace with their emotions rather than fighting them over time. I also am always a fan of the gentle giant character who has the power to slaughter armies but instead chooses to make flower crowns and be the designated giver of hugs.

Personally though, I love barbarians because they are simple enough to cut through all the bullshit that “smart” and “civilized” people have put up to help themselves justify not doing the right thing. Barbarians don’t deal in “the big picture”, “acceptable losses”, or “Necessary evils”. Barbarians don’t agonize over the philosophical minutia of “what does good mean?” And never actually get around to doing anything. When the world tries to tell them that evil is unstoppable or worse necessary they say “ACTUALLY NO IT’S NOT! FUCK YOU! IM GOING TO SAVE EVERYONE AND THEN SHOVE A GREATSWORD DOWN THAT LYING THROAT OF YOURS”. They are a wild card that breaks through the systems that hold evil in place. They never accept that the fight is lost. They run towards danger with a smile on their face and a fire in their heart.

“Rage. Rage against the dying of the light!”

They are exactly the kind of courageous, confident, kind people that I wish I could be. I don’t have the confidence to be. I am often too scared to take a stand for what I believe in. I’m terrified of making the wrong choice and accidentally hurting people. This makes me passive more than I care to admit. There are angry men in my life and I don’t want to be like them. But I know that anger is a part of who I am and is not a wholly bad thing.

I love barbarians because often I ask myself the same thing Travis McElroy once asked: “what if you could cut out all the bullshit and just do good recklessly?”

[readerinsertfanfiction]

The Bae’st of All

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Character: Kyubae the bae’st bae of all aka Kyubei

Prompt: Seeing how Kyubei is named after an alias that the real Mitsuhide Akechi used (Juubei) the chances of fans getting a Kyubei route from Cybird are slim. However, it is simply impossible not to fall for this man. He is too good. So here have my attempt at writing a route.

The key of the previous chapter was (Romantic/Dramatic):

+4/+4

+4/+2

+4/+2

A/N: Vote DRAMATIC or ROMANTIC to determine which ending I’m going to write first. 

Chapters:

1.1| 1.2 | 2.1 | 2.2 | 3.1 | 3.2 | 4.1 | 4.2 | 5.1 | 5.2 | 6.1 | 6.2 | 7.1 | 7.2 | 8.1 | 8.2

Avatar Challenge 1| 3.1 Gacha POV | 1st Letter | 5.2 Gacha | Avatar Challenge 2 | 2nd Letter

“Back again, young miss?”

The marketman is much too eager when he spots me out from the crowd, hands wringing together as he eyes Hideyoshi next to me.

“I see you are in different company.”

Not liking the tone of that I’m about to explain when Hideyoshi steps in front of me, his expression like stone when he eyes the man behind the stand.

“I’m her brother, if you will and I don’t like that suggestive tone.”

I feel myself sweatdrop at this exclamation wondering if this is how Hideyoshi sees the rest of his female friends as well. He treated them all the same, just like me, but never expressed any interest.

“No, no, I wouldn’t dare. I was merely noting that the miss was with another man the other day, handsome lad I must say. Looks very dependable.”

Sweating himself out of that hole the marketman raises his hands towards Hideyoshi, his smile faltering as he turns towards me once more, his hand gesturing towards the timepieces on his table once more.

“It seems that the miss is from a fine line, however. With such a brother and that eye! Do you care to explore my humble stand some more?”

Hideyoshi gives me a blank look when I try to sneak a glance at him, wondering what his reaction will be. He remains stern, however, eyeing the man up close as he reaches out to one of the goods first.

“These are western goods, not?”

Opening one of the timepieces I gaze down the archaic design again from which our modern watches descent from.

“Let’s go, Hideyoshi. The sun is nearly down.”

Before the salesman can pitch his pretty talk again I quickly interrupt, tugging at Hideyoshi’s sleeve as I scuffle away from the stand. We still hadn’t finished our errand yet and the constant eyeing from the man was making me suspicious. Exhaling Hideyoshi agrees with me as he puts the item down, though I can tell from his eyes that he is still thinking about it, his brown eyes still set in contemplation and longing.  

“But maybe we can pick one for Nobunaga?”

My careful suggestion is immediately met with a bright smile and an eager nod as Hideyoshi eyes down the complete table, picking up an item occasionally as he checks out its little design and asks for my opinion.

(I better be careful with how much I pretend to know. This marketman seems to have it out for me.)

Back facing me Hideyoshi is still excitedly picking out a suitable timepiece for Nobunaga while I wait in the back, my eyes falling once more over at the salesman who has made his advance towards me.

“Can I help you?”

I purposefully raise my voice in the crowd, hoping that it will catch attention but a firm hand wrapped around my arm is already dragging me into the crowd as I watch Hideyoshi’s figure disappear.

“Hey! Stop!”

Raising my voice I fight against my captor as I struggle against the firm hold on my arm and the pace in which I’m pulled at. When I finally manage to free myself I’m slammed painfully into a wall as I come eye to eye with a pair of raging reds.

“Ya better shut up fast. I’m not afraid of rising hell in the streets.”

The firm warning leaves no room for doubt from my side as I stare at the white haired man, wild and unhinged with a wicked smile to come.

“What do you want from me?”

I try to maintain my composure as I face him, sounding out my question as my captor rolls his eyes at me, seemingly annoyed already by his catch. Though, I don’t think he is the type to let me go for being too annoying.

“Word travels fast about the new princess the Oda has. What else?”

His words make my heart sink as I wonder how many more times I’m to be a tool because Nobunaga makes enemies left and right. A kidnapping, really? I miserably wonder to myself which trope I’m subjected to next as I’m pulled away once more.

(The day is coming to an end fast. I wonder if Hideyoshi noticed me already?)

I’m stuck in a cave, my arms wrapped around my knees while Motonari (my captor) is making a fire.

(It is no use running. He has caught me three times already.)

I wallow to myself at all of my failed attempts and the patience that is obviously running thin with the pirate warlord that is holding me captive now.

“What are you planning to do with me?”

I suddenly voice out this curiosity as Motonari pokes the fire he has created, agitating it to grow. His face is firm and set but when he looks up at me he smiles that wicked smile once more, a crazy glint glossing over the man that had so attentively built the fire.

“What do ya think? The Oda values ya, even someone with gunpowder for brains knows what that means.”

He speaks so crudely, but I can still tell through that slang that he is from noble birth, articulate and eloquent. I wonder what has made him discard it all, what has made him decide to lower himself to this rank when he had it all.

“They don’t value me. I just got lucky.”

But dissuading Motonari was no easy task I found. The man was much sharper than his speech let on and his actions, though feral were much more calculated. He wasn’t about to reveal anything that he wasn’t willing to reveal.

“You tell me where you got your knowledge from.”

The change in tone and shift in language doesn’t escape me as Motonari eyes me dangerously from the other side of the cave, the fire between us giving him a near demonic glow. I suck in a breath as I wonder if he had been around when Kyubei and I last visited that market, or if someone had told him instead.

(Was this perhaps why Kyubei seemed in a hurry that day?)

Knowing that I’m not about to get this knowledge out of Motonari I press my lips firmly against each other, my mind wracking over spurning a plausible story when a shadow moves in from the corner of my eyes.

“Ye late.”

Motonari’s response is simple as he falls back in the sealord’s language he has adopted as his guise and I turn my head to face who his friend is.

Tall like a mountain, broad like the reach of the sun, but dark like the colours of the night and the depth of the sea on a skin resembling moonlight. There he stood, the man I had missed most.

“Kyubei?”

(What’s going on?)

**Gasps in Sengoku**

His name escapes me so easily, but the usual warm and reassuring smile from the man is gone as Kyubei ignores me, instead facing Motonari as he goes down on his knees.

“I had to lay low for a while. Security has tightened up around this area.”

Motonari narrows his eyes at the vassal, clearly not believing the man, but choosing to keep quiet nonetheless as he shrugs his shoulders, his chin pointing towards me.

“Aren’t ya glad to see her back? Heard ya are fond of her.”

Kyubei doesn’t react to the taunt Motonari throws at him as he remains kneeling. A scoff escapes the other as he pokes the fire between us some more, this time to put out the flames.

“Ya better not think of running. Tomorrow will be another long day and I promise I will break her legs this time.”

The words leave a chill in me as the heat of the fire slowly fades away, leaving me in the dark as the shapes of the men shift, readying themselves for the night.

[yetremains]

♡ + can I also have our OT3 and/or OT4 plz?

SEND ME ♡ + A SHIP AND I’LL TELL YOU…

I've been found dead in keyboards Under another read more for length! I will always indulge you and so you get both

OT3 with Hanzo/Ryou/Yang

Who is the most affectionate? Out of the three of them all capable to indulge one another, the affection between them is very high. But out of all three I feel it might just be Hanzo in this regard. He has been confirmed to be a cat. While he will be the larger affectionate one, Ryou and Yang will have him in the middle of a cuddle puddle.

Who initiates the handholding? They each will more than likely take turns on who is reaching for the others hands first, and will absolutely rely heavily on the moods and what the touch can convey. It more than likely would end up with snuggling in the end and quiet conversation. But if they were just going for the hand touching, it might just be Yang.

Who worries more for the other? It's three varying levels of dangerous choices and getting themselves into danger. Hanzo is at the top who will do literally anything for those he loves and won't hesitate to throw down. Then in the middle is Yang, she will protect the other two adamantly and without fear while carefully debating if she should snap someones neck or not. Warning: She just might. And of course, while he is just as dangerous as the others, Ryou is the more collected of the three. And he is no doubt the one that worries the most.

Who is more likely to ask for help? So what happens when you have a room of stubborn people trying to do things on their own? A lot of frustrated grumbling with one calm one sighing. Okay but seriously, all three of them are quite capable in their own way and can handle a majority of things on their own. But in the end it is possibly Yang that would willingly ask for help first.

Who is the one always losing the keys? Between three of them, no keys are lost, ever. And if anything should even remotely be hard to find then one of them will be able to locate whatever the lost object might be.

Who leaves little love notes for the other? There would be a series of notes left around to communicate too each other. Little loving comments and gentle reminders of the simple things. Maybe one day they are all grumpy and moving about the house a lot, so a series of built up notes ends up in this long ridiculous line on a table at some point, of arguing and grumpy one liners. Yang would be the one to crack and burst out laughing at how utterly silly it all is and the three of them doing this.

Who can’t sleep unless the other is there? A problem with sleep is a trait all three share. And becoming workaholics is only made it worse. But while two of them might be able to rest, it wouldn't be entirely peacefully until the third is there to climb into bed, to be immediately snuggled and enveloped by the two who have been waiting. But I see out of all three of them, Ryou and Hanzo would be the worst of them with being unable to sleep.

Who is more likely to propose to the other? Being in a poly relationship such as this one means that if the prospect of marriage came up, the three of them just might propose too each other with simple, yet heartfelt rings that reflected the ones they were meant for. First there would be deep conversations about it, and then keep it a secret what rings they were getting one another.

Who introduced the other to their family first? Again, there is no real family left here for any of them. But the friends of found family is absolutely a thing, and potentially adopted children they each have. It might be a lot of the same circles of friends, but still. This would be something they wouldn't exactly keep a secret I feel, and absolutely tell those close too them.

Who is more likely to play with the other’s hair? TWO partners with gorgeous hair? Yang is spoiled! Once again she'd be at the top of this list given the chance. But more than likely it would be like a rotating door of a sort of just who was stroking whose hair the most on the given day or hour. But if it is very late night and Yang awakes, while the other two are still sound asleep, then she will softly stroke their hair and tuck it back, enjoy the quiet moment, before snuggling back in.

Who makes sure the other has meals/stays hydrated? In that home there is no one going without food or drink. The kitchen is very well kept, stocked on groceries, and has enough space for them to cook together, or take turns.

Who is more likely to stand up to anyone for the other? If it's the random public problem or nuisance, someone trying to be judgemental at all on Hanzo and Ryou or all three of them, then Yang is going to square the fuck up. Ever seen someone murdered with words? Now you will here because that will happen, unless she needs to throw a punch. However if it is a truly dangerous situation that involves a fight, then I feel like the one going to go off the most and stand up is Hanzo, complete feral territorial and protective cat, while Ryou is ready to play the defense to pull him out if he goes too far, keep him safe even from himself, while Yang can tap in and give them both cover.

Who is the most likely to prepare a surprise for the other? I can see any mix of two planning a surprise or gift for the third, and this often times swapping between them all in some way. But honestly, Yang would make a small whittle carving made from wood of the three of them together, as to surprise the other two.

Who makes the other pinky promise not to do certain things? Between all three of them, it is no doubt a need to make each have their own individual pinky promise depending on moods and events that could set one of them off. But Yang would certainly have to make a pinky promise not to let herself go too far.

Who puts a blanket over the other when they fall asleep on the couch? All of them. There is no when or why reason, there more than likely has been at some point, one of them each has fallen asleep on the couch, and one gets a blanket, while another gets a pillow. But they will make sure that each other doesn't sleep too long there in the end.

-

-

OT4 with Johnny/Hanzo/Ryou/Yang

Who is the most affectionate? With an entire Quad Squad, the most affectionate can vary with the mood and demands or needs. But I feel like in the end it would be Johnny with his words and flirting, or Hanzo with his poetics and warm touches the most. But be careful, Yang and Johnny will feed off each other in the flirting stage and turn it on both Ryou and Hanzo. More than likely making Ryou take the reigns to turn the tables back with Hanzo taking initiative real fast. But in the end, it will all become a very content loving group together to just enjoy the safety each other brings in their warmth.

Who initiates the handholding? This is a wild card, and it's anybodies game! With so many hands to hold, this changes throughout the day and depends on whom ever happens to be closest and near by. But with the currently events and three of them together, more than likely it will be Ryou taking the initiative on hand holding, a reminder they are all here together, and ground them all.

Who worries more for the other? Yang probably worries most about the other three, even though all four of them absolutely can take care of themselves. She will still be very worried over their welling being. And on the flip side, the paranoia all of them have of even coming close of loosing each other, oh the fear is real if things get critical.

Who is more likely to ask for help? It will be a toss up between Johnny and Yang more willing to ask for such. There is a lot of stubborn energy with each of them in their own varying ways, but it is not impossible for opening up and admitting a need for assistance.

Who is the one always losing the keys? With all of them, this isn't exactly a problem. Even with each of their own lives outside of the home, someone can help, even if loosing keys is rare. But between all four of them, Johnny Cage is probably the most likely to loose his keys. Only to find them later rather quickly.

Who leaves little love notes for the other? The most likely to do this is Hanzo and Ryou, leaving messages and notes for all of them. Yang would leave lyrics or poems, while Johnny will send cute as fuck text messages.

Who can’t sleep unless the other is there? Someone is missing? They will be questioning where the hell they are if it's not the usual times they are back or around. But if schedules collide and clash, there will always be at least two capable at any time for sleeping together. The worst out of all of them would be Hanzo or Ryou more than likely. Followed not far behind by Yang, and then Johnny. Cage looking at the other three and going to make sure they sleep one way or another damn it.

Who is more likely to propose to the other? Johnny Motherfucking Cage. Because if he doesn't do it, then it might be too slow, and not all of them have eternity to wait. If it isn't him, then Hanzo would make that leap himself.

Who introduced the other to their family first? Again here we have Johnny doing this first. All of them introducing their close friends and adoptive family in whom they have found, but Cage want's to gush about his family, and he will show you pictures too. But keep in mind, he will also probably show his followers on twitter or instagram, or whatever he might use, just who he is involved with. He'll share selfies with all of them.

Who is more likely to play with the other’s hair? If I could post a gif of overwhelmed I would. Because here we are, Yang will run her fingers through each of their hair, letting them lay in her lap as she does so to help ease away stress, nerves, anxieties. While taking great enjoyment in such. The next one after her would possibly be Ryou I feel. That calming nature he has with the soft touch could make any one of them just sink into it.

Who makes sure the other has meals/stays hydrated? Ain't no one going hungry or dehydrated in this house, not at all. Someone will be cooking and taking care of each other, or even taking responsibility on meals. Even if it is Johnny noticing the other are tired or drained, then he's going to god damn order a take out feast to spoil them. Yang can handle the dishes after, she will insist to do that much.

Who is more likely to stand up to anyone for the other? Depending on the situation, it will vary. Someone being rude or assholeish either in public or online? Then Johnny Cage is going to put someone in their place real fast of Yang doesn't first. But if it ends up coming down into Kombat, then this Quad Squad Team won't leave anything standing by the time they are done. Wildly different skill sets and varying fighting styles they can change between, someone is going to end up on the ground real quick.

Who is the most likely to prepare a surprise for the other? There are always going to be sweet little gifts and surprises left from one another, heartfelt ones and carefully thought out. But if a real surprise is going to happen, Johnny is going to be the one to do it. This is a man whom, even despite his age and wisdom, still knows how to go all out and awe someone if he wants to. Even if it's something simple and not extravagant, he will go out of his way to make sure it's a good one.

Who makes the other pinky promise not to do certain things? Ryou will absolutely make the others promise not to go feral or do something completely stupid or off the wall. He probably has to worry the least about Johnny doing that, but there are still moments where he could get himself into trouble. However if things were to get bad enough, then it's the Edenian making the promise instead.

Who puts a blanket over the other when they fall asleep on the couch? It rotates really on whom is on the couch, but it will more often than the other two, be Johnny or Yang that gets found snoozing on the couch. But this scenario pans differently. While pulling the blanket over is all well and good, more than likely one of them will be picking up who ever is sleeping on the couch and carry them too bed instead.

[bitterlikesweets]

Love Bites Ch 18

This is the eighteenth chapter of a modern/vampire AU ereri fanfic. You can also read it on Ao3. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | Special | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18

Next

Levi pulls his hand out of Eren's, scowling down at his own arms. He swipes at his limbs like he's trying to rub something off, but there's nothing there except his own pale skin. Levi just tries harder to rub whatever it is off, making red imprints on his skin where his hands drag roughly over his arms. Concerned, Eren reaches out, his fingertips brushing against Levi's forearm, but Levi flinches away, letting out a shaky breath.

"I…" Levi swallows. "I need to wash my hands."

He gets up and marches over to his kitchen without another word. Eren stays sitting on the floor, sinking his head into his hands.

That… was a lot.

A Feral King addicted to the brief feeling of life he gets from turning other people. Levi's actions as a hunter… That family… Those parents… Levi's uncle—

Eren's mind flashes back to when he first met Hanji and Erwin.

“The Ackermans are a family of hunters. Generations of vampire killers. Levi is the last of them now. He’s the reason that he’s the last of them too.”

“Kenny's crossbow went off—I couldn't let the kid die too—” “...The old man hit the ground.”

Fuck. Fuck.

Eren… Eren doesn’t know what to think about this. It’s a lot. It’s so, so much. All those comments Levi’s been making since they met—about how he was a killer, about how he was more of a monster than Eren was—Eren never imagined that it would have stemmed from this.

The Feral King is one thing; whatever pity Eren might have had for him is completely overshadowed by the amount of deaths he’s caused since then. Eren can understand anger, wanting revenge, but what he’s done is different. Turning others just because it fucking feels good—

No. Whatever’s going on in that sick bastard’s head doesn’t matter. They need to stop him. Because his actions are only causing more to suffer, and creating more angry, violent bastards like Eren. Maybe this started with Levi, but the Feral King chose to make it spiral out of control. He chose to make a fucking cult out of it. He chose to bring more people into it, to make more people die. He’s gone way too far.

But the family…

Eren can’t help but wonder what they did that warranted something like that. Who did Levi’s uncle get the job from? Why… Why did they have to die? A sick woman who became a vampire to stay alive... A husband who just wanted to stay with his wife…

If there was no reason…

Fuck.

Does it matter?

It was fucked up. It was massively fucked up. It was fucked up either way.

But Levi… Levi’s obviously trying to make up for it. He stopped hunting except for vampires who were a danger to others. He’s obviously still feeling guilty for it. He’s…

Eren closes his eyes.

If it wasn’t Levi… If it were the people who killed Eren’s mom doing something like this… If they realized afterwards that it was wrong, that they wanted to change… If they started helping victims of feral attacks instead of going feral themselves… Would Eren forgive them?

Eren can’t get his mother back. The only thing he can get is closure. And Eren’s not nearly kind-hearted enough for an apology to smooth things over, for a “sorry” to put out the burning in his chest.

But even if he was...

“While she was still breathing I… begged her to turn her son so that he would live."

Levi tried to fix things right there in that moment. The vampires who killed Eren’s mother left both her and Eren for dead. They’re different.

...Or maybe Eren’s just thinking that because he loves Levi. He doesn’t know those people who died, doesn’t feel much for them except for some empty, useless sympathy. And Levi’s the one who’s still here, still alive, still suffering.

Eren doesn’t know if this the “right” way to go about this. But Eren’s also a vampire who has been planning to commit two murders since the day he was turned.

Eren’s not sure if a right way even exists in a world as fucked up as this. He sees a path ahead where a lot of people die or a path where only a few die. And they can’t go backwards, can’t undo the deaths that have already occurred.

On one path, there’s the person Eren loves. That’s the path he’s going to follow.

Eren pushes himself off the ground and onto his feet. He’s left Levi alone for too long already.

Eren finds Levi still in his kitchen, his hands deep in the sink and his shoulders hunched. As Eren gets closer, Eren sees that the water is nearly up to Levi’s elbows, soaking into the sleeves of the shirt that Levi didn’t bother to roll up.

“Levi?”

Levi tenses slightly but says nothing.

Eren reaches around him slowly, to shut off the water that’s about an inch away from flooding out of the sink. When Levi stays still and silent, Eren reaches out for Levi’s arms, hoping to help him roll up his sleeves at the very least—

“Stop!” Levi snaps, jerking his arms away from Eren. “You’ll get it on you!”

“Get what on me?”

Levi freezes, his wet arms hanging over the sink. His eyes were wide, panicked, but when his gaze slides from Eren’s face to his soggy limbs, they narrow sharply. Levi hisses out a sigh, lifting his hands towards his face as if he was going to drop his head into his hands. But he stops abruptly before he can, gray eyes staring miserably at his own fingers as they drip soap and water onto the tile.

“...Nothing,” Levi says quietly. “It’s nothing.”

That’s what he says, but his hands are trembling.

Eren’s chest squeezes painfully, and he quickly turns and scans the kitchen for something that could possibly help. His eyes land on a roll of paper towels, and he hurriedly rips a piece off, covering the majority of his hand with it and holding it out towards Levi.

“Is this okay?”

Eren’s honestly not sure if being touched will help Levi right now, but he’s currently at a loss as to anything else that will. He’s not exactly sure what’s wrong either. Eren doesn’t want to aim empty words at an issue he doesn’t fully comprehend.

So, he holds his paper towel-covered hand out to Levi and hopes it’s enough.

Levi’s gaze drops to Eren’s hand before he frowns. He moves towards the paper towel roll himself, briefly reaching out to it before recoiling again. Eren bites his lip, taking a second to try and process what Levi’s doing.

“More?” Eren asks, pointing at the roll.

Levi nods, and Eren hurries to rip off more paper towels—he gets three extra pieces, just in case—before laying them over his hand with the other piece. When he holds his hand out to Levi again, Levi takes a deep breath before gingerly placing one of his wet hands over Eren’s.

The tiniest sliver of relief works its way into Eren’s lungs, and he lets out a little sigh, wrapping his paper-covered fingers around Levi’s hand.

“Is this okay?” Eren asks.

Levi nods.

“Good,” Eren says, sighing slightly again. “Is there anything else you need? Something I can do?”

Levi’s eyes shift from the hand Eren has half-covered in paper towels to his other wet hand. He rubs his fingers together for a moment before grimacing.

“A shower,” Levi says.

“A shower?” Eren repeats. “Oh, you want to—Okay. Can I help? I could turn on the water for you—”

Levi turning to look at Eren with a frown makes Eren freeze, and he quickly waves his free hand in front of himself.

“Not that I need to! I’m sure you can—I mean, I just thought—I was thinking you might not want to get… get it on your faucets and stuff…”

Not that Eren knows what “it” is. He doesn’t want to assume either. It would be better to ask than just guess, but Eren also thinks that it might be a terrible idea to ask Levi what substance he’s seeing on his hands while he’s still currently seeing it—Fuck, or would it be better to know now? Eren’s not great with things like this—

“Okay,” Levi says.

“Okay?”

Levi nods, and Eren lets out a sigh of relief again.

It doesn’t really matter what it is, Eren decides. At least, not right now. The only thing he needs to focus on is that Levi’s got something on him that he wants to clean off. That’s fine. He can help with that.

Eren keeps a firm grip on Levi’s hand as he leads the man through the kitchen and up the stairs. He flounders a bit though, once he reaches the second floor—he’s only ever been in Levi’s living room. Their fighting practice never left much time for house tours.

“Left,” Levi says from behind him.

“Right! Er, no—uh, you get what I’m saying.”

Levi sighing in annoyance behind him actually lightens the weight in Eren’s chest a bit, and he bites back a small smile as he follows Levi’s one word directions toward the bathroom.

Levi waits on his bed while Eren scurries around the bathroom, pulling back the glass sliding door for the shower and turning the water on. It helps that there’s not much else for him to set up; Levi’s bathroom is clean and organized, as expected. If the tables were turned, Levi would probably have to turn Eren’s apartment upside down just trying to find the soap.

Eren pokes his head out of the bathroom door once the water starts to heat up. Levi’s master bedroom is fairly simple. His bed is in the back of the room, with a desk by the window on the opposite side. There are more pictures of Kuchel here, and a couple of journals that look like handwritten recipe books, if the taped-on labels on their spines are anything to go by.

Levi’s still sitting on the edge of the bed where Eren left him. He’s wiping down his hands with the clump of damp paper towels that Eren used to separate their hands earlier.

“Levi?”

He raises his head slowly, the movement of his hands pausing.

“The shower’s ready,” Eren says. “Can I help with anything else?”

Levi shakes his head, getting to his feet with a sigh. Eren walks over to meet him, reaching out to touch him before thinking better of it, pulling his arm back.

“Can I…?”

Levi looks at Eren’s hand for a moment before nodding, stepping closer to Eren. Eren smiles, reaching out again. His hand lands on Levi’s cheek, and Levi tilts his head into Eren’s touch, briefly closing his eyes.

“I’m going to go downstairs,” Eren says, “but I’ll stay a while. I’m here, okay? Let me know if you need anything.”

Levi nods.

“Okay,” Eren says, taking a deep breath before pulling his hand away once more. “See you soon.”

~ ~ ~

Eren spends his time downstairs closing all of Levi's curtains, trying to make sure no light can get through. He plans on staying over through the day, just in case Levi needs anything, but he'd rather not turn into dust in his sleep while he's here.

It's almost… strange for things to be like this. So far, it's always been Eren crying on Levi, breaking down on Levi, having to be helped by Levi. Eren doesn't feel guilty, exactly, for those moments—it's not like he can control it—but it feels almost like he's making up for it by being there for Levi too. It's nice to know that he can be here, like this, for the man he loves. He was so worried that he wouldn't be able to do anything at all. But even if all he can do is grab a couple paper towels or turn Levi's shower on, he's glad he can do that much. He's glad he can do something to help, even if that something is just being here.

When he’s done with the curtains, Eren cleans up where he can. He grabs their practice weapons and leaves them in front of the storage closet—it still smells like garlic in there, so Eren can’t exactly go inside and put them in their proper places—and then he moves on to the kitchen. Emptying the sink of water is simple because all Levi did was use a plate to cover up the drain. Once he’s finished with that, he uses paper towels to wipe off the wet spots on the kitchen floors, though Eren does flounder a bit as he tries to figure out which cabinet the trash can is hiding in—

Things are too quiet.

The realization hits Eren without warning, his hand still lingering on the cabinet door, and for a moment he doesn’t know what makes him think so. He pauses, sensitive ears twitching as he tries to figure out what changed. It was already silent downstairs, and upstairs there’s only the quiet sound of Levi’s footsteps across the carpet…

The shower. The shower turned off.

Eren hurries up the stairs, though he pauses in front of Levi’s bedroom door and decides to knock. He told Levi he’d be here, but maybe Levi would prefer to be alone—

“Come in.”

Eren smiles, pushing the door open.

Levi’s standing in the center of his bedroom, dressed in black pajamas. He’s rubbing his eyes tiredly with his hands, which is a great sign, all things considered. Eren smiles a little wider.

“Feeling better?” Eren asks.

“I feel like shit,” Levi says, “but sure.”

“Do you wanna…”

Eren holds out his arms, and Levi narrows his eyes at him.

“You… don’t mind?”

Eren tilts his head.

“Don’t mind what?”

Levi frowns.

“Don’t fuck with me, Eren.”

Eren blinks, still not quite getting it. A moment later, he gasps.

“Oh, no, I wasn’t—that wasn't what I—” Eren stops to take a breath. “No, I don’t mind. I love you. That… What you did back then doesn’t change that.”

Levi’s mouth opens and closes soundlessly for a moment, and then—

“Why not?”

“Levi…”

Eren bites his lip, trying to think of how to phrase this in a way that doesn’t sound fucked to high hell. Honestly, Eren’s moral compass is a little skewed to begin with. And he’s known all along that Levi has killed people. Knowing that a few of them—maybe more—didn’t deserve it isn’t enough to trump all the good Eren has seen Levi do.

...There isn’t a way to make this sound not-fucked up, is there?

“Because I know you,” Eren says eventually. “I know why you thought vampires deserved to die, regardless of who they were. I mean—look at all the people who work for you, Levi. You were right about all the vampires that hurt them.”

Levi just averts his gaze.

“And,” Eren continues, “when you did learn they were people, you changed. Maybe I just… believe in that—in how you changed—because... not everybody does.”

And some people change for worse, just like the Feral King did.

...Just like Eren will.

Maybe part of the reason he trusts Levi so whole-heartedly is because Eren wants to believe he can do the same, when it’s time for him to. When Eren can finally put out the fire in his chest, he wants to rekindle it into something better.

He just… needs to make sure it doesn’t burn him up from the inside out, first.

Levi’s still quiet, his gaze lowered to the ground. Eren bites his lip, taking a step forward.

“Think about it like this,” Eren says. “When I… When I get revenge for my mom, will it change things for you? Will you still love me?”

Levi’s head snaps up, though there's a bit of delay between his actions and his next words.

“Of course I will—”

Gray eyes widen slightly as they meet Eren’s gaze, and Eren grins.

“Bingo!” Eren says. “Now you know how I feel.”

Levi’s gaze wavers, his hand clenching into fists at his side. Eren takes a step closer, brushing his fingertips against the back of Levi’s fist, gauging his reaction. When Levi doesn’t pull away, Eren curls his hand around Levi’s fist.

“The way I see it,” Eren says, “maybe we’re a little fucked up. But I think… we can still do good. I think you’re proof of that.”

When Levi doesn’t respond, Eren clears his throat, stepping away again.

“N-not that you have to think of it that way too,” Eren says. “I mean, I just—I just wanted to tell you because you asked ‘why not.’ That, um, that was my why not. You don’t have to read too much into it. I just wanted to get across that I love you no matter what—and I mean, uh—fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have said—”

“Eren.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Sorry,” Levi rubs his eyes with his hand. “We… might have to redo this conversation.”

Eren blinks.

“Redo it…?”

“I'm not… here," Levi says with a frown. "Not all the way. I'm not… catching everything you're saying."

"Oh." Eren smiles slightly. "That's okay."

"Sorry," Levi says again.

"No, no," Eren says, "it's okay. I wouldn't mind telling you again. Why don't you get some sleep?"

Levi frowns, rubbing his eyes again. Eren reaches out and squeezes Levi's shoulder.

"Get some sleep, Levi."

"I need to… call Furlan," Levi says as Eren gently nudges him in the direction of his bed. "For work."

"Do you want me to tell him you can't go tomorrow?" Eren asks, trying to slow his words a little in the hopes that it'll help Levi catch them a little better.

Levi nods.

"He needs to… do the schedules for me."

"I'll let him know. Where's your phone? I don't have his number."

Levi starts reciting Furlan's number out loud as he slides beneath the blanket, and Eren frantically takes out his own phone to copy it down.

"Hey, Levi," Eren says, tucking his phone back into his pocket, "do you want me to…"

When Eren looks back at Levi, his eyes are already closed.

"Stay?" Eren finishes with a half-sigh.

Eren slips out of Levi's room, closing the door quietly behind him. He decides he will stay, just in case. He can crash on Levi's couch until it's night again.

Eren waits until he's downstairs to call Furlan, not wanting to take the risk of waking Levi up before he gets the chance to properly rest.

"Hello, Furlan Church speaking," Furlan says, answering on the third ring.

"Hey, Furlan, its Eren."

"Eren? What's up? Everything okay?"

Eren is confused by the immediate concern, at first, before he remembers that it's nearly dawn and a mini-miracle that Furlan answered in the first place.

"Everything's fine… Levi wanted me to call and tell you that he can't come to work tomorrow."

"Levi? Levi said he can't come into work? At all? Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine," Eren says quickly. "We just… talked about something… tough, so…"

Furlan is quiet for a moment, and then—

"...So, he told you about Zeke?"

Zeke? Eren bites his lip. That's… a weird coincidence.

"Who's Zeke?"

"Zeke," Furlan says again, "the Feral King. That's the only topic that, well… Takes him out of commission for a while."

"Oh," Eren says. "Then, yeah, he did tell me about… Zeke."

Eren hears Furlan let out a sigh.

"He really trusts you, huh? He still hasn't told all of us about it, and we were there when he came back. Shit, he's only really told me and that’s just because I've been around him since we were fourteen…"

"...Yeah, I guess he does."

It's just a coincidence. It has to be. Right?

"Eren, you okay?"

"Yeah, I just…"

Eren rubs his face with his hands.

"Do you know Zeke's full name?" Eren asks.

"Yeah? Zeke Jaeger. Why, the name sound familiar to you?"

Fuck.

"H-how do you spell that?"

"What? Why?"

"Please."

"Okay… I think it's, j-a-e-g-e-r. Jaeger. Probably German or something."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Furlan… I'll… call you back another time."

"Eren, are you sure you're okay—"

Eren hangs up before Furlan can get another word out.

Of course. Of course. It feels so much like a sick joke that Eren almost doesn't know why he didn't see it coming.

Zeke Jaeger… The Feral King…

...Eren's older brother.

They're all one and the same.

[0nez1]

7th Oct 2019

Narrative essay.

Write a story about someone who had a narrow escape.

Describe how it happened and what has that person learned from the experience.

Begin your story with: "Let me out of here at once! ..."

0_______0

"Let me out of here at once!" With rage in her eyes, the woman demands her immediate release.

What began as a bizarre sight to both prisoners and guards alike had readjusted itself as a norm in their everyday life in the dungeon. It was a repeated occurrence that the she-beast refused to abandon. Others had long forgone their resolution to escape. Escaping from the wall of the empire was unimaginable. Still, the spitfire rage on.

The guard only rolled his eyes and grunts, "Shut up, woman."

Isabella scoffed back, annoyed at the same response. Even under the dimly lighted dungeon, her long reddish locks and evergreen eyes were fairly visible to be seen. It was clear she belongs to a noble heritage for only the powerful had such colouring. Yet strangely, there was no jewellery nor a speck of luxury on her person. Only a plain white rag to wear and shackles clasps to her wrists. Mana resistance shackles, to be precise.

Her scowl deepens at the thought. It felt uncomfortable to not have mana flow evenly in her vein, being unavailable at her fingertips to use. It was like a part of her was forcible stripped away from her and never to be seen again. Isabella swore to get them back. She refused to come out of this disgusting place incomplete.

To achieve this, Isabella went back voicing her demands, uncaring of her increasing parches throat. She whines how unbearable it was to be put in a dirty environment and be surrounded by commoners of all people. Do they not know who she was!?

Moments later, the guard stationed stood up, decided to have enough of his fill and gave her a nasty look before going outside. Isabella made a point to do a final shriek to make his day even better. Hearing the metal door shut with a loud click, she instantly drops her previous demeanour.

Other prisoners perked up, like their favourite show was about to start, whereas she was the first act. They watch her with a strange fascination, always amaze the extreme differences her two personas were.

Isabella resists a snark and ignored them as always. They never bothered her nor tell-tale her to the guards. The least she could do was to let them keep their means of entertainment. Isabella settles herself in her little corner and it was no lie how disgusted she found the cells were. Hygiene would be the first on the list for the new lord to oversee if she had anything do with it.

If, the revolution went successful that is.

Speaking of which, she opens up her palm to reveal a crumpled scrap of poor-quality paper. No use complaining, it would be a waste to use them on such occasion anyway.

'All going according to plan.' It wrote. She sighed and leans back, closing her eyes in prayer. For freedom, for glory, for peace to the kingdom. Isabella swore in her family name to carry on her act and have the mission complete.

×

It was three months ago, the final preparation for the upcoming rebellion was going well in the process. Away from the imperial search, for rebels outside the kingdom's walls. No one would have guessed said rebels were discussing their plans in a hidden room underground at a local tavern. It was truly a sight to behold. Various species from all sort of social standings gathered. From humans to beastmen, a noble or a commoner. It was a gathering of the century to bespeak.

The meeting went on smoothly, most issues were settled with ease. Then, there was a bump on the road. The plan needs a decoy. A sacrificial pawn goes unspoken between them. The atmosphere turned cold. The shared silence implied a crack in the group. It was unsurprising with suspicion and distrust still held them tightly like a leash. After all, they come together for a similar cause, not due trust. Oh no, there was too much bad blood to speak such a thing.

Isabella, herself had attended the meeting and was quite unimpressed by the whole ordeal of it. She did not come here to witness some children's squabble. Enough yapping and wake up, they were going to war. Sacrifices were bound to be made in the process. Seeing unwilling to take the task, Isabella volunteered herself. Consequently, chaos followed afterwards.

Rebukes of her participation were heard; they were fully against it. It was both ironic and amusing she was the cause of their current united hearts. Isabella refrains from scoffing, and instead calmly explaining her reasons. She was only but a placeholder. A common fact throughout the whole kingdom. She neither have any real value to any party so why not use it to their advantage?

Isabella vowed in her family name, a name even in disgrace still holds recognition from others. His grace will not suffer any loss if she fails and only received benefits if she succeeds. It was a winning deal. It was only a slight miscalculation on her part, to her surprise, someone spoke up for her.

Isabella narrows her eyes, watching the person in suspicion. Elaine Gurn, a fairly famous missionary and also a fellow friend of the rebelling prince. She had also been the one to raise her hand and volunteered to join her. A laugh and a mischievous grin, the female missionary managed to have the others on board with it. Isabella did not know what to make of it nor the intention of herself being elected as the leader for the mission. There was a mission onhand now, that was all that matters to her.

It was a pleasant surprise to find the dynamic between her makeshift team turns out well. They listen to her orders, adding their own two cents and it was just so... Nice. There was a strange glint in their eyes, something Isabella could not decipher as to what exactly. What was clear though, like, in the previous meeting, the experience she was feeling now was all thanks to her apparent second-in-command.

"You have my gratitude, Miss Gurn." Isabella whispered, awkwardly taking a seat beside the missionary.

It was the night a week before the mission to commenced, the team decided to throw a celebration. Never one for the crowd, Isabella slip out to the roof exchange for some fresh air. There she awaits, the usual mood maker, sitting alone under the starless night sky. It makes a good cover for those in need to keep a low profile.

Elaine smiles, not saying a word and turns her head overlooking the sight of the town. It might be their last too if they failed to succeed. It was then, it dawned to her how heavy the burden she was carrying. Her life did not hold much meaning with her family increasing declining, but her teammates were another thing as a whole. Family and friends await for their survival. This was not about her. Never was.

Was this how Father felt all those times long ago? Isabella wonders in nostalgic. Her grip on her cup tightens and her resolve steels. Then, the harsh training he made her gone through would do her good. She will make sure it would.

×

A beat. Two.

There was a shout. It was faint, but the world turns madness following it. Screams, explosion and orders all-around mix in the chaos, the prisoners tensed, asking themselves what happens outside.

It was time.

Evergreen meets dull brown and suddenly the ceiling went crashing down.

Elaine took cover, like every other prisoner done the same. Amidst the dust and debris, she could make up a silhouette of three people.

"What took you so long?" Jack, another comrade of her group, joked casually as he came out from his hiding place. Despite his habit of playing the fool, he has a sharp mind and survival skills to make up for it. Not to mention, his experience as a real commoner made it easier for her blend in.

There was a sound agreement Isabella would fail without back-up. She didn't argue nought. It was foolish because she knew, knew even her patience has its limit. Only meeting with another comrade's eyes did she remember the weight she carries. The lives in her hands. It was the only thing that kept her act from cracking after its overdue curtain call.

"Enough." Isabella bark, cutting off the friendly banter short. The ambush was successful but that doesn't mean their work was done.

She felt satisfied as she watches her group straighten themselves and listened to her orders. Hers. It was a good feeling. A rare few moments in her life. Especially when the cuff on her wrist was removed and power hums at her fingertips.

"Ready for some actions, leader?" Elaine asked, eyes twirling with amusing.

To her, Isabella might as well look like a child who got her toy back. It can't be helped after all; her mundane experience is nothing to compare to hers. It was time like this Isabella questions why had she appointed her, out of all people, as the leader?

Elaine has always had the charisma. The will, the strength. So why—

Focus. A voice brought her back to reality.

"We follow as planned." Isabella coolly said. "Scattered into two people's team and make way to each assigned checkpoint. You know what to do next."

The rest of her team nod and scatter they did, leaving Isabella alone in her steps to the outside field. Another group of the rebels ran past her, if she remembers correctly, was assigned to transport the prisoners to a safer place, preferably away from the chaos of the battlefield. They ignored her, not she would find offended of said actions, since they were wise to do so.

As the skies darken and let out a rumbling groan, a gleefully smile stretch across her face, just as feral and dangerous as one could imagine.

It was time after all. Once again, her family's name would be whispered with respect and fear throughout the lands.

Power flow collectively as Isabella lift one hand. She could feel its humming, excited to what they might become and with one swift movement, she brought it down.

The skies roar on her command.

[wildwoods1]

Lion King 1-13-21

 Have you ever met an animal you knew was a Master? The kind for which people back up and make a path automatically. That was Zuri. A hulking Feral Alpha Male who took everything seriously. He was Lion among Lilliputians. Born to a wild maniac mother called Mama Teu, Zuri suffered the deaths of his siblings at a tender age and from that day the world changed.  He began walking the 3-acre yard and woods beyond, which developed into patrols as he grew. Zuri was an eight year old boy going to war with Bob Cats, Coyotes, Razorback Hogs and one Florida Panther. His attitude changed overnight. No longer a kitten, Zuri evolved into the quintessential powerhouse that ruled the woods. It wasn’t just the smaller animal population that gave him a wide birth; Raccoons as much as 3 times his size could be seen backing down is they heard/smelled him coming. As it was, he probably weighed in at only about 16 lbs, the muscles in his neck bulged even at rest.  A vet suggested that he could have weighed in the 18-19 pound range because his weight was all muscle and it was used in survival mode daily. He said any animal that chooses to live at that level of danger when he doesn’t have to is driven, he’s doing it for a reason. That means his body is far more of a weapon than the others and will cram every molecule of strength into himself as he can. He also speculated that he would be able to climb a tree in a flash using only his front legs to pull himself up. The purpose is to be prepared in case he is injured; he can still get away from a predator. All one had to do was look at him to see this was true.

But he is gone now.  I was with him as he contemplated his own transition. His body was getting colder, the temperature was dropping further and the other two males from the clan had come to wrap themselves around him in case he wanted to remain. But it was no use now. There was too much infection. I would not have been able to get to him even if I had searched for him (which he continued to mask so it could not be read). He was far under a building inches off the ground. He was the wildest of the clan and not at all willing to corporate with human; ready to do battle with anyone who tried to pull him out. It was only because of the circumstances that he allowed me to make the connection with him. Cats do not like to reveal their capacity to communicate, and ferals far less likely to do so in any case. It leaves them feeling less than autonomous. But now, it was over. He told me he could not have been a more amenable companion because then it would be too difficult be the Protector of the Clan.  Well, I have watched him trade his innocence, his vulnerable kittenhood and affections for the safety of all. It changed him overnight. Within a week he had turned hard and cold, calculating, and cunning. Pure Guile ruled him for the rest of his life.  But he loved them so well that he remained out in the wild through cold and storms. As far as I am concerned, Zuri has earned his Mastery, more than any other animal I have ever known. I could feel when he reached the point of no return. The cold was now putting him to sleep and this time, he sank into it, abandoning his post for the first time. A soft drifting took him on it’s wake.

Good bye brave stalwart one. In one way or another you have kept us all alive. You have completed a life beyond measure. God speed.

[spiiderwiick]

Yet Another Bad Idea

For a moment they had thought that was it. That was the end of little Wick the spider. The claws and teeth were too close, they wouldn’t be able to outrun them and knew that trying to run now would just set off whatever predatory instincts were leading the creature. Their voice caught in their throat, they wanted to yell for help, call Benrey. He could protect them, he always protected them when they needed it. All they could do was cower, squeeze their eyes shut, and maybe hope that they came out of this only missing a limb or two instead of just dead.

The growling cut off abruptly and Wick flinched, anticipating something crunching through their carapace. Much like the last time they’d found themselves in front of an angry monster, nothing came of it.

Instead as they lowered their arms and slowly opened their eyes, they found the strange creature turning tail to run back into the woods. In the dark of the night they couldn’t make out much behind them. Something dark. And close. They could see the light of the full moon glinting off many white somethings. Teeth. They realized, a new lump of dread growing in their stomach. Teeth that were nearly wrapped around them as if poised to crunch into a tasty spider snack.

Wick lurched forward, stumbling away from the horrifying wall of teeth. In the blurry cover of night with their flashlight on the ground, they couldn’t make out what they belonged to, but they knew. Of course they knew.

As they scrabbled to pick up their flashlight without tearing their eyes away from the shape in front of them, it stepped forward. The teeth gnashed together before disappearing with an uncomfortably wet sound as she returned to a more normal form just in time for them to find their flashlight. Some part of them was glad they couldn’t see whatever Patches had turned herself into in its full, unsettling glory, “Hoohoo~ Aren’t you lucky I’ve been coming out to play every night~?”

Their shaky hand shined the flashlight up at her, causing her pupil to shrink to a slit and a frown to spread across her face as she shielded her face with a clawed hand, “Don’t your silly little rules classes teach you not to shine lights in people’s faces?”

Wick found themselves speechless. Had she just.. Saved them? All they could do was stare up at her, dumbfounded.

It wasn’t quite the reaction Patches had expected, but maybe the little arachnid was in shock, “I don’t know why you thought pestering some feral monster on the full moon was a good idea, you moron.”

Wick just nodded. Yeah. You know what? They were a moron. They did a very foolish, very dumb thing, and they nearly paid the ultimate price for it.

Still no reaction. A disappointment. Patches hummed faintly before closing the distance to roughly heave Wick up off the ground and back onto their feet. She turned to start walking away, “Better get a move on before it decides to come back.”

“w-wait..” Finally, they piped up, “you.. you saved me?”

Patches stopped, though not abruptly, she’d expected this question, “No. I scared it off. Scaring people in this woods is what I’ve been doing this whole time.”

Okay so she was still in denial, they concluded, “... thank you.” They trailed off for a moment. Patches had been here most nights, hadn’t she? Nobody had raised any complaints though, and nobody had gotten hurt. Had she been behaving for once in her life? Wick managed to let out a wheezy little laugh, “i thought you didn’t like all our fakey fake scares. they weren’t real enough for you.”

“I’m real.” The smile in her voice was apparent, even with her back turned, “And oh when someone recognizes me, or realizes I’m not some dollar store prop hung from a tree? That’s the fun part.”

Normally they might have taken offense at the dollar store prop comment, the stuff at their haunt was some damn good quality stuff. Currently it wasn’t worth their energy to argue that point. Besides, they had yet another bad idea brewing in their head, “...... so you do like the haunt. you just.. think you can do it better.”

“I can do it better, but go on.”

Wick shook their head faintly, “you said it was benrey’s idea.. you coming to bother us each night.”

“You’d hardly even know I was here had I not been bragging about it online.” It seemed she would not let this drop without arguing every one of their points, “And yes, he suggested it.”

“... well. what if.” This was a bad idea. This was a really, really bad idea, “you.... joined.. officially?”

In the dark it was difficult to notice, but their sharp eyes managed to catch a flick of the ears at their suggestion. They’d caught her interest.

“Officially.” Finally, she turned to face them again, eye narrowed, “You want me in your silly little show?”

Patches was incapable of saying anything without negging.

“i mean.. you’d have to follow the rules. no touching people, no hurting them, no killing.” They’re not sure they have it in them to do a Patches version of the rules class right this second, but, “could probably put you in a set benrey could keep an eye on you in. make sure you behave... but. it kinda sounds like.. you have been already.” They were quite sure she’d broken a bunch of rules, but the bar was pretty low when it came to murder clowns.

Hm. Her head tilted slightly at that, so they had noticed after all.

“i.. gotta go check back in. and.. let everyone know what happened. i don’t know what the fuck that thing is but-”

“Weremoth.”

“what.”

“It’s a weremoth. Duh.”

Wick stared up at Patches incredulously. She seemed completely nonchalant, as if this was something that was supposed to be common knowledge, “okay how much fuckin’ monsters and magic shit is real in this world and how much of it do you already know about?”

“A lot.” Cheeky clown hours were now, apparently.

Wick quickly decided this was a conversation they wanted to try and pin Patches down for, but not out here in the middle of the dark woods at nearly midnight. They glanced up the dark and empty trail. There was no trace of blue glow to indicate the creature was still around and yet they suddenly didn’t feel quite as comfortable alone in the dark anymore. In fact, they felt so uncomfortable that the literal murder clown accompanying them sounded better than going it alone, “..right. okay. why don’t you come back to the lodge with me?”

Patches shrugged but followed along behind them. Wick had never been more thankful for the eyes in the back of their head. They didn’t trust her not to try anything, even though she didn’t. The entire walk back to the lodge she was quiet and just trotted along behind them.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Wick had never been so relieved to step through the threshold of the lodge and into the light. Nearly all the volunteers had gone home by now, there were just a few board members and Benrey left, waiting to make sure Wick made it back safe. Benrey ran over to them before stalling a bit, looking over at the doorway.

Patches had stopped just outside the threshold of the door, waiting for the inevitable reaction to finally revealing herself.

Nyx, a wide-eyed black and red moth, was the first to react, “That’s- Fucking clown.” Very astute. He jumped up from his seat as though ready to throw down right then and there.

“i know- i brought her back here.” Wick admitted sheepishly.

Benrey gave Wick a quizzical look for that. Bro? What doing? Clown times? Why bring feral clown into house?

A very tall trilobite beetle stepped forward, “Wick honey... Are you alright? She didn’t do anything to you, did she?”

“no, calla, i’m fine- i. fuck. she saved my ass.” They were sure Patches wouldn’t appreciate being accused of saving them, but they figured it would be the fastest way to get everyone else more on board with their harebrained idea.

“She what.” Nyx had his eyes narrowed, everyone else remained in stunned silence.

A silence that Patches decided to fill. She ducked her head through the doorway to enter the lodge before straightening back up to her full height, the only one in the room who could match her was Calla, “Your idiotic little friend thought they could placate a feral monster with a candy bar. I happened to be in the area and I’m a bigger, scarier monster. That’s all.”

She was doing herself no favors. The entire room save for Benrey and Wick tensed as she stepped into the building. The haunt crew had known about her since last year, they’d seen her on the cameras and kept a close eye out after Wick had reported in about her. Wick had also kept them filled in on how dangerous she was, so seeing her waltz into the safety of the lodge, seeing her for the first time in person, that was something entirely new.

“she’s. apparently been lurking around the show again this year-”

“Then she’s been doing a damn good job avoiding the cameras.” Nyx frowned.

Patches brightened at that, “Thank you, I try~”

Wick grimaced faintly at that additional strike against the idea they have been trying to propose, “and i was thinkiiiiing.... since she’s beennn... “good”...” They made heavy airquotes around that word with all six arms, “that maybe... she’d be... areallygoodadditionalsurprisescareonhalloweennight.” The words tumbled out quickly, before they could get interrupted again or stop themselves from finishing their bad idea. It sounded bad, they knew it sounded bad and that they were forgetting something.

“with supervision.” They added hastily.

Well. If the room was stunned into silence before, it was nothing compared to now. Even Nyx didn’t have any deadpan comments to add. Wick could feel all the eyes in the room boring into them.

Calla was the first to break the silence, “Hon... If she’s as dangerous as you say, who exactly would be able to step in if she did do anything? And why would we take that risk?”

“Oh yo that’s me.” Benrey piped up. While he had been nervous about haunt stuff, he was an expert in handling this clown. Clown wrangler Benrey.

Wick nodded in agreement, “i kinda figured he’d handle things. but..” They  glanced up at Patches, who loomed silently above them. Wick could feel her dislike of being supervised by Benrey. It radiated from her, “if she plays by the rules, he won’t have to do anything.”

“Does she even want to?” Another spoke up, this one a luna moth, “And who exactly is giving her the rules class? Cause it sure as hell isn’t me.”

“no- i mean yes she does, and no you don’t have to.. i’ll do it.” Wick could feel themselves wilting the more they wrapped themselves up in this foolish idea.

“Do I though?” Patches added unhelpfully. Though it was true, she had never confirmed nor denied wanting to involve herself.

Benrey found himself about to open his mouth, but glanced over to Wick first and stopped himself. Maybe they needed to say something first.

Wick felt the stress and frustration growing, part of them wanted to melt into the floor away from all the scrutinizing stares, the other part of them wanted to yell at the clown. For the second time this month, the latter won out, “could you stop being a cagey bitch for two fucking seconds and give me a straight answer!!! you’ve been hanging out here for two years now! of course you want to fucking  do scary shit in the show! you always say you can do better than we can and how much you hate all our fake shit! why don’t you fucking prove it! scare people without hurting them! without touching them! do it somewhere we can see! prove us wrong! show us how great at being scary you are! benrey’s already doing cool monster shit with us, why don’t you upstage him! show us you’re the scariest fucker in the park!!!”

Patches hadn’t expected them to blow up at her that quickly, the other monster encounter must have left their nerves more frazzled than she thought. An amused expression settled onto her face, “Alright... Maybe I can play nice for one night.”

“Bro! Nice clowns aren’t scary. You gotta be mean! But like.. Mean lite! Little nasty clown! As a treat!”

A look of mild irritation crossed Patches’ face at Benrey’s feedback, but the amusement returned quickly, “Of course.. You’re right. How silly of me.”

“Nooooooouh… not silly! Scary! How you gonna upstage me if you can’t get this right, yo?” This disagreement would continue for some time if left unchecked...

Nobody in the room looked thrilled by this idea, least of all Wick. They still fumed, though it had waned some after they finally got the damn clown to agree to something. They didn’t trust her to keep her word, of course, but that’s what all-seeing eldritch gods are for, right?

[inspirationdivine]

The Monster Mash || Lydia and Jared

Timing: Current Parties: @inspirationdivine & @themidnightfarmer Summary: Lydia and Jared meet in the woods in the evening

OR

The one where Lydia’s in “Cabin in the Woods” while Jared’s in “Snow White”

It was the safest Lydia had felt in weeks. The vampire would never be able to touch her, not for as long as his soul was missing. Remmy was safe, albeit heavily scarred, and there wasn’t all that much going on in her life. Soon it would be mushroom season proper, but until then, she was happily wandering the woods in the early evening sun, admiring the golden cast that the light shone on everything. The only artist better equipped than a Leanan Sidhe was nature itself. Lydia, lost in her own mind, didn’t notice them at first. The growling, cruel gnashing of teeth, the skeletons shaped like armour, the glowing green eyes. Lydia froze when she saw them, blood running cold. Barghest, or aufhockers. She’d seen them before, in the cage with Remmy, and could remember all too clearly the pain she’d heard from her friend. Lydia screamed, stumbling back, wondering if she was supposed to play dead or run or just prepare to die.

Jared was whistling quietly as he took a few of the pack out to scout for suitable stray bones to outfit themselves. This year's brood were wilder than the last and the nymph could not be more proud. But it was still something that they would need to be taught, and just like last year Jared accompanied them in their first search. The first bone on their armour would be attached by their mother in a show of tradition that Jared felt blessed to be able to witness every year. The mothers of the two litters took point far ahead of the rest, and they alerted an unfamiliar presence in the way they would in the wild. Except the protection of the pack fell to Jared, so they compensated for his poorer hearing by growling louder and more fiercely than they usually would for any of their own kind. He sped up his gate and emerged into the same patch of trees just as the woman screamed. His hands flew up first in surrender and then down by his sides to placate the bonedoggle mothers behind him. “Shhh shhhhh their hearing is sensitive!” he whispered hastily. 

“What??” Lydia yelled, stumbling back. A root caught her ankle and she fell hard onto her derierre in the dark foliage below. The beasts looked hungry, starved for food and ready to maul her to shreds. They were thinking about it, she could tell, planning how to tear out her throat. The man was absurd to think- Lydia swallowed down the thick saliva filling her mouth, taking a moment to feel the reverberation in her chest. “Get away from them! They’re dangerous!”

The bonedoggle mothers grew more upset at the consistent yelling. These mothers had been completely wild once, a two legged yelling like that was dangerous for them and they recognised it. Even if the words the woman was screaming were lost on them, the tone was familiar. Jared raised his hands again making a gesture he hoped translated to ‘pipe down’ to the woman. “Shh shhh, don’t scream. Screaming is freaking them out.” He hissed while making a slow path towards her where she lay on the ground. He took a knee next to her and turned to softly speak to the mothers. “Go round up the pups, girls. They’re heading this way.” He requested lightly with a calming smile and a small shooing gesture. They both gave the woman another feral look, one even snapping her teeth, before they took turns vanishing into the trees. Jared offered the woman a hand as he stood back up. “Did you sprain anything falling over?” He asks carefully. Feeling something vague about her, but nothing he could put his finger on. He’d never been told what meeting another fae felt like after all. 

“I’m screaming because they freak me out!” Lydia retorted shrilly, but tried to bring it down a decibel. He didn’t frighten her as he approached, how could he, when he was so obviously fae, and so clearly wrong about everything. He kept talking to the monsters like they might answer back, might listen, and oh lord, the things kept coming closer with their mouths definitely salivating for a meal. Lydia flinched back as one leapt forward to bite her (or so she thought) but missed. Then, one by one, they turned on their haunches and wandered away. Panting, Lydia took the Fae’s hand and stood, so clearly trembling. “N-no. How did you- how, what?”

He looked down at the woman with some sympathy as they stood. She was shaken by them, and rightfully so. Had Jared not been walking with a known pack, her chances against all 13 of them would have been slim, even with the majority being so young. Even if he didn’t see the threat he appreciated that others certainly did. Jared grew cagey then, unsure how to explain to a stranger what he was doing walking amongst monsters so casually as well as dismissing them from a meal without blinking. He held her hand firmly for an extra moment in both of his in the hopes that it would give her some courage back. “I just uh…” and he stumbled. What did he say? He hadn’t been prepared for this eventuality this evening. Letting her go he struggled for words. “I just uh..” he tried again. “Dogs you know….”

“Dogs.” Lydia replied, staring at him. Oh no, he was another. They clearly weren’t dogs, they were the furthest thing from dogs she could imagine while still being the approximate size and structure of the canine variety, but if he didn’t believe that they weren’t dogs, if he couldn’t feel the magical connection between them… Lydia swallowed, wrapping her arms around herself tightly as if she might feel less fragile because of it. “Do you not… feel anything?” Another poor soul.

Her tone spoke volumes and he decided in that moment to be a little reckless. “Well not dogs, but uh rather doggles.” Jared corrected himself bringing a hand up to chew on his thumbnail worriedly, the other arm crossed his chest to hold it steady. And then she inquired after how he felt and he was lost for only a single moment. Did she mean about the bonedoggles or about her? Because he most certainly felt something about her. He gestured with a finger between the both of them. “Between us? Uh...maybe? Are you...doing something to make that feeling? Like a memory I can feel, it’s weird.”

“Doggles? Is that like… doggo and pupper and other internet terms?” Lydia asked hesitantly. “Or is that their species name?” She honestly had no idea with him. He knew more than he was letting on, as he nervously chewed on his nail, but maybe not as much as one might think. What on earth did he mean, like a memory?  Lydia ran her hands over her clothes, shaking a few errant bugs off her. “No, I’m not doing anything. I- Might I ask, does the word fae mean anything to you?”

“Species… they’re called bonedoggles.” Jared told her hesitantly. He could know things about the supernatural species and not let on to what he was. This was fine. Her inquiry sent off alarm bells in his mind however and he took a full step backwards as subtly as he could. Just out of arm's reach if this were to go south. “Fae? Maybe, perhaps. Bonedoggles aren’t fae though…” That was always the same, the same awkward struggle towards an admission. He’d cave first, he knew he would. But if he could help it he’d cave in a way that didn’t out his farm. 

Lydia eyed him for a long minute after he’d finished, before clasping her hands together. “Oh, thank goodness. For a moment I thought you were serious about believing they were real dogs, when they looked…” Lydia swallowed, looking around as if they might hear her speaking ill of them, “So vicious. No, they aren’t fae. But you are and I am!”

“You’re fae too?” All cagey attitude was dropped as soon as she uttered those words. Jared heaved a sigh of relief and then caught himself. “Is that the memory feeling? It’s like, in my fingertips like I know you’re something but I have no idea how to describe it.” He was probably babbling nonsense, but he was so relieved and curious that he couldn’t contain himself very well. 

“Yes!” Lydia replied, her glamour blinking away for a moment to show her high pointed ears and her firefly wings peaking out from behind her back. “That’s just it. We’re blessed to know each other by instinct.” Her joy sank away, her head tilting as she stepped closer, carefully avoiding the branch that had tripped her before. How had he not felt it as loud as a siren when he’d held her hand for that moment. “Have you… not many other fae before?”

Her glamour flickered and he caught sight of her wings. “Amazing!” she looked far prettier in her normal skin than he did. Jared considered dropping his like she had hers, but instead did the bear minimum. He allowed only his 4 horns to appear from his hair in return. “Not uh, not so many, only a few. I didn’t know that was that feeling! I feel….stuff all the time so I guess I could have been writing it off as something else.” he explained to her. He then allowed a sheepish grin to cross his face. “Raised human I’m afraid. Not a very.... Not very in the know.”

Lydia’s eyes widened as he revealed his horns. Nothing like the elegant antlers of a lampade, but every bit of breathtaking. He had to be a nymph, their appearances were so varied and beautiful in equal proportion, and he was only showing so little of it. Lydia wished to see more. “They’re beautiful,” she murmured, once her breath was back. Although, he felt stuff all the time? What on earth did that mean? Everyone had senses for feeling things, but this was different than touching treebark. “You were raised human? It can’t have been easy. Wait… how did you? With those Doneboggles?”

Jared blinked back at Lydia and then smiled more widely. “You think so?” His hands raised to touch his horns, already covered over by the glamour again but he could still feel them. “Yeah, family of deniers too so you know how that goes.” He shrugged in a jovial sort of way, as if what he was describing didn’t sound like an awful way to grow up fae. “..oH right yeah. They’re my kids. I’m a nymph for vicious beings. You know… someone has to look out for them.” He paused a moment before asking that cheeky question. “And you?”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Lydia said softly, because it sounded so terrible. At least he wasn’t Regan, suffocated by his own denial. He was just lost and alone, like Jeff, in so many ways. “They’re your… children?” Lydia looked at him extremely skeptically, but she’d heard of nymphs of all manner of things. Still, she didn’t believe anything like those monstrosities could truly be changed. “Leanan Sidhe. Artistic inspiration.”

“Well I call them my kids, but they’re more my charges. My lot in life is to try my best to protect them I suppose?” There wasn’t a set path for any fae, but in times like these Jared reflected on wishing there were at least clearer baseline instructions. “Described as muses by google.” he recited from memory. Then Jared cringed and quickly added “No offence of course if that’s wrong. I just...human upbringing and all...not very well educated.” he explained with a small attempt at a laugh. 

“No, muse is a perfectly acceptable term,” Lydia laughed. “At least you’re willing to learn. That counts for a lot. So much, really.” She swallowed. How old was he? Twenty? Thirty? A Hundred? How lonely, especially for something that already left him so isolated, facing prejudice. Lydia thought of the skull Deirdre had brought her with a shudder. “So you… can communicate with them? Control them?”

Jared was immensely glad that he hadn’t offended the woman. “Very willing to learn about this stuff, I feel like I’m always missing something or other that I should be on top of.” he laughs more genuinely. Other fae always seemed to have more of an air of authority about them than he did, this woman definitely had a confidence in who she was at least after all. “Oh my kids? It’s more we have an understanding. We’re connected, it’s like...uh….that human theory of the string tied around someone's pinky finger? There’s a push and a pull to it. And not everyone is connected the same way, but we’re all attached if that makes sense? I respect them, and they in turn respect me. We listen to each other in a way?” 

Lydia listened curiously, looking up to the sky as the sun began to dip to behind the trees. No more golden  hour for them, but then this was so much better than something that happened every sunny evening. “I’m not sure I understand that all that much,” she replied, with a soft smile. She understood the words, the concepts, but couldn’t grasp what it really meant. It wasn’t control at all… maybe symbiosis? “It’s incredible, though, all the same. Sorry, we’ve been talking all this time and I haven’t even caught your name. I’m Lydia!”

“Hard to grasp I suppose unless you can feel it.” Jared settled for. The tug of his soul towards his creatures wouldn’t make sense to most. And that was okay. As long as he knew where he was with it, it was working out just fine. His mouth opened in surprise and then he offered his hand out to the other. “Oh damn yeah. I’m Jared.” he introduced in return. As as he said this one of the bonedoggle mothers emerged from the brush once again. This time accompanied by one of the pups. His eyes turned to her when he sensed her arrive and he tilted his head in her direction for Lydia to know she was there as well. “I promise she won’t bite you. She’s just being weary, her pups are taking a big step today.”

“Jared, lovely to mee- Aah!” Lydia yelped as the mother reappeared, but half way through remembered that she needed to be quiet around them, so stifled her mouth with her hand. She still jumped behind Jared, grabbing his arm and peering out behind him. “You can’t promise that! I relinquish you of your promise! Never make a promise about someone else’s actions! Especially- uh” Lydia swallowed. “A mom with her pups.”

The nymph laughed quietly at Lydia’s reaction. She was not the first, nor would she be the last, to hide behind him. Now that Jared had calmed to the other faes presence, the feeling was easy to convey over his connection to the mother doggle. Her teeth were no longer bared in protest and he smiled softly at her and her kin. The moment lost when Lydia indicated how stupid his word choice had been. “Oh fuck yeah, shit right. I...I’m usually better about that I really am.” he said, his blush thankfully covered by the glamour he wore, although his tone definitely gave him away. He glanced at Lydia and then spoke. “Bonedoggles are sensitive to sound like Bies are. Where bies will be startled away by it, doggles tend to attack anything making too much of it. That’s why we keep voices nice and low usually.” He nods at the two forms in the half light. “Her ears are at rest, she’s pretty calm now.”

Lydia eyed him, a tiny smile playing on her lips despite her fear.. Definitely a child fae, even if his demeanor was charming. “Right, of course.” She said, then swallowed, looking back at this hellish hound, and yeah, maybe her ears were at rest, but Lydia didn’t know what that looked like. “Calm. Right. I trust your judgement.” Lydia replied. It was easy to trust him through the wind chimes in her chest, even if she didn’t understand everything he was talking about. She didn’t know what a bies was, nor did the skeletal hound look calm to her, nor the young pups beside her cute. She still hid behind him, eyes wide as the darkening light made her skin glow. “Is she calmer because of you?”

His pride built when Lydia said that she trusted his judgement. From someone so new to him it was a surprising but every welcome comment. “I always say it is best to keep a good distance from doggles, but at the same timeI don’t want you to be worried about these right now. I’m here and I’ve got you covered.” Jared told her with a smile before gesturing for the doggles to go ahead and bring their bones to him rather than him going to them. He asked with a soft tone along with the gesture and the visible doggles departed, the few in the shadows Jared was unwilling to point out to the other fae just in case she panicked. “I suppose so. She reads my emotions like I can her’s, sometimes. I’ll admit meeting a stranger when I’m with something a human shouldn’t be is a little stressful. But I’ve calmed, so they have in response? If that makes sense?”

“I usually keep my distance from anything I can’t talk to and isn’t fae. Next time, I’ll just try to remember not to scream,” Lydia replied with an attempted casual laugh that pitched a little on the high end as the…. Bonedoggle came closer, and dropped bones at Jared’s feet. It was fine. This was just like Deirdre. Except, of course, that Deirdre wasn’t a terrifying beast, who didn’t attack at loud noises. So, really, they were the opposite of Deirdre. Lydia took a deep breath as they retreated, and stepped out from behind Jared. “That does make sense.” After all, right now could Lydia not feel the contented hum of Sammy glazing a sculpture? “No, of course I understand why that could have been alarming. Fortunate for both of us that we were who we were then.”

Unaware that Lydia was still hiding behind him somewhat, he unwittingly exposed her by vanishing from her side. Jared had crouched down to the small pile of bones being left at his feet, counting them out and discarding any that seemed too damaged to make a good first piece of armor. “I feel really lucky yeah. I now know what that feeling in my fingers is all about. I really didn’t have any idea it was anything like that. I thought it had something to do with my kids you know? I can feel the ache when they’re hunted, I thought maybe the good feeling was something good. Can’t help but dream huh?” he laughed lightly. Jared looked up realizing he was oversharing and shot a sheepish smile at Lydia. “Is being a muse hard?” he asked to change the subject. “I want to learn. I feel like I have tons to catch up on.”

Lydia’s smile twisted into something sadder. She didn’t understand the affection he felt for the beasts, but she knew well the feeling of losing a creature you were bound to. He looked sheepish, but her expression was only encouraging. “Well, do feel welcome to ask anything you might wish to know.” He changed the subject, and Lydia grinned, much happier to discuss this than to watch him sort through his bones.  “Is it hard? Not in the slightest. I can sense talent, and give people artistic inspiration with as little as a smile. Need to be careful about not drawing the attention of any wardens, but then, don’t we all? I rather enjoy my life.”

She was being generous and it brought a smile to his face. “I’ll be bothering you all the time. I only have one other fae to really ask, and she’s kind of busy a lot. I don’t like to bother her.” Or rather, Jared was promise bound to ask Morelia for help should he ever be in medical trouble, so when little things cropped up that he didn’t know about he hesitated to ask. “I don’t know an awful lot about wardens. ButI think so far I’ve done alright.” At least on the warden front. “Have you lived in town long?”

“It isn’t a bother. No one should live in ignorance of their heritage and culture, if they don’t wish it,” Lydia replied with a small shrug. “I could introduce you to other fae too, if you would like that,” she said softly. “There is not much to know about them other than that they are iron-skinned monsters that will kill you if they get the chance.” She shivered lightly as a cold breeze rolled through the forest. “Oh, probably coming up on 10 months now, I move every few years.” Hazards of immortality, really, and keeping her hunting grounds close to home. “What about you?”

As Lydia told him she was more than happy to tell him whatever he wanted to know he smiled. Jared smiled and looked back down at the doggles who were almost finished attaching their first bone to the pups. He jerked his head at the closest of the pups to have already been awarded their bone. Whispering a quick soft order to head home. “I’ve lived here all my life. Grew up here, never really left.” Jared offered Lydia his arm with a tentative smile so he could lead her out of the pack of doggles with as little stress to both parties. “What’s it like moving around a lot? Is it because of trouble with wardens or just becuase you like it?”

He’d lived here all his life and he still hadn’t met that many fae? Lydia took his arm comfortably, and followed him to what felt like safety. Already, she was planning a trip for him into the Mirror District. “Oh, a little bit of both. Well, it doesn’t help that I’m 70 and hardly look it to the human eye. Although, I must tell you about the time I had to move in 1987…” As they wandered off together, all that could be heard was the birds in the trees, the chatter of their voices, and not a single growl from the bonedoggles,

[legobiwan]

I’m freaking out because i just...i’m SO psyched for the Kenobi series but i’m so afraid that they’re gonna give him a romance. I hate it because i...i just, and you’ve talked about this before, he’s he perfect Jedi. To Obi-wan, being a good person IS following the code, even after the order is gone. He wouldn’t have realistically ever left the order for kryze (even tho i don’t consider that canon that always felt ooc to me) or the others bc he’s completely devoted to the code above all else 1/2

Especially after what he saw happen to anakin and padme because of that attachment. I highly doubt he would, 8 years later, be willing to even have temptation of a romantic partner. And god forbid we hear more Rey Kenobi theories. I’m just worried Disney is going to do a disservice to his character bc hollywood HAS to have a romance plot in everything. Do you think they’ll go down that route? 2/2

So we’re dealing with a few different issues here. Let’s break this down:

“The Perfect Jedi”

Obi-wan attempts to be the perfect Jedi. He tries, oh so hard, to keep himself at that exacting, impossible standard. Of course, no one is the perfect Jedi - not Obi-wan, not Yoda, not Mace Windu - and certainly not Qui-gon. (And yet there is something in there, the delicate balance of striving towards excellence as opposed to striving for perfection, and it is an important distinction, one that I don’t think the Jedi, as a whole, always got correct as a sense of extremism took root within certain sectors of the Order.) Now, the reason behind this predilection - well, we could point at a few factors. Obi-wan’s sense of impostor syndrome (not at all helped by one Qui-gon Jinn, who seemed to be constantly thinking Obi-wan was somehow behind on his development, as shown in Master and Apprentice.)

(There’s a whole other meta I’ve touched on regarding the whole inter-Lineage…I don’t want to use the word trauma, but let’s just say they all inherited their predecessors’ issues and manifested them very differently.)

But yes, from the get-go, it seems that Obi-wan needs to prove himself. To Qui-gon, as a Padawan. To Qui-gon’s memory, when he takes Anakin. To Anakin, to prove he could be the Master of the Chosen One. To the Council. Etc. It’s a lot of pressure on one person. And the thing is, Obi-wan cracks, more than once. His sardonic, biting sense of humor is indicative enough of his less-than-perfect adherence to the Code, not to mention all the rules he bends for Anakin, his devotion to Satine - which is an interesting case study. In the end, Obi-wan does not succumb to Maul’s taunts to go feral/Dark Side but Obi-wan’s actions on Mandalore, precipitated by his very un-Jedi actions regarding Satine, set off a cataclysm of far-reaching events. As does his refusal to kill Anakin on Mustafar, which could be construed as a wild infraction of the Jedi Code. I mean, had Obi-wan killed Anakin, made *sure* of it and not walked away, what would have happened?

And yet, he tries to do good. Even as he realizes his faults, his part in moulding galactic events. Obi-wan could have done more, could have done differently, and yet despite his awful circumstances, he never gives in to hate. He is flawed, imperfect, but still holds on to some core part of himself. And I think that core part is something…that’s not the Jedi Code. The Code, in the end, is meaningless after Mustafar. (And I really REALLY hope the series touches on this idea of loss of faith, because Obi-wan held on to the Code so tightly, as a way of justifying so many of his actions because what else did he have? And I love existential crises when they’re not my own. HA!) The Code may have been his way of telling himself he was doing good - was doing what Qui-gon wanted, what the Council wanted, what was best for Anakin…but I wonder when Obi-wan sat down and thought about what he wanted for himself? Without expectation, without other people’s narratives. (Okay, so I may be projecting a bit here.) 

I’m getting off-topic here. Would Obi-wan have left the Order for Satine? No. He would have thought about it, fantasized about it. But at that point, he would have been too wrapped up in expectations to actually do anything about it. And by the time the Clone Wars came around? He was too responsible, too enmeshed. And…you know, I get it. I’m around Obi-wan’s age in TCW/RotS. There’s so much narrative to unpack in your life, so much expectation that you can internalize or throw away and whose story is it anyway? Those around you? Your own? Some odd mixture therein? But Obi-wan wasn’t ready to let go of that narrative, of those expectations, of the ghost of Qui-gon and so, no, he wouldn’t have left the Order. But there would be nights, those nights. When the lights have dimmed in the quarters on board the Star Destroyer, when the company you keep is an empty durasteel table, half a bottle of Corellian whiskey, and twenty years of what if…

But you were asking about romance, about attachment. (So often conflated, although never one and the same. Or perhaps they are different terms for the same idea, not love in the carnal sense but illogical devotion to someone or something. I always like the idea of there being many words, ideas for love, as the Greeks made popular in our culture. Love, or attachment to an idea or a thing can be just as wonderful, as intoxicating and dangerous as it can be with a person.) 

Realistically? An Obi-wan set adrift in Tatooine might get attached, despite everything. (The novel Kenobi does a fantastic job of illustrating this.) We yearn for connection, and someone who has all but cut themselves off from interaction with other beings…how long can you hold out? 

This isn’t to say I would support a full-fledged typical Hollywood romance in the series. Because honestly? Not the time or place. 

Now, if it is something where Obi-wan feels a connection with someone and then purposefully acts against it? I would be okay with this. As it would be in service to the idea that he is (tragically) cutting himself off, believing himself to taint others, to be less than. And given the trajectory of recent streaming, I’m more confident than I would have been a few years ago that a series can do without a “typical” romance. (Which…thank the gods for that development. I don’t mind natural romance (I’m looking at you, Good Omens), but the shoe-horned heteronormative plots I was forced to endure through the 80s, 90s and early 2000s were…tiring, to say the least.)

We’re in a new era now, with these streaming services, with the impact fandom has on media, with social mores changing for the better, in my opinion. (But seriously, it’s wild for an old fogey like me to watch unfold. A little weird, I’m not going to lie, but on the whole, a positive development.) I’m going to put my faith in a few things, including a) Ewan McGregor wouldn’t have signed on to this if it weren’t going to be something interesting and nuanced (and gods know he held out long enough, so I’m assuming the man has standards) and b) Disney wants our wallets and has a pretty good grasp of its demographics (probably a scarily accurate grasp, but that’s another story for another time), so I’m not too worried about a prototypical romance plot.

Now, as to Rey Kenobi theories, I have to admit, I enjoy them, only because I’ve been struggling for more Kenobi content recently. I doubt that’s the route they’ll go down, especially in light of all the rumours circulating about Episode 9. And so, in the end, what I hope (and believe) we’ll get is a very human story about a man who tried to live by a narrative and failed, and tried to reconstruct himself not totally escaping the chains of those events and people, but still trying to do good.

[meowitsmerida97]

Omegaverse Head Canons

Alphas:

On the top of the societal food chain. If they are male.

Strong, fast, with enhanced senses, and the classic knot

Numbers skew towards female alphas

While female alphas held some more power historically ie: medieval times a female alpha could rule a country and own property. They are generally just seen as bitches.

Male alphas that are the typical in charge personality type with the Hollywood Body are considered the 'Ideal Alpha'.

They have rut cycles, sometimes sinking up with sexual or romantic partner, usually twice or three times a year but it's not always about sex

They usually miss work, not because they are completely incapable of controlling themselves but because they are not taught how. There is a growing movement for teaching alpha females that they are normal and teaching all alphas how to control themselves while in rut.

Although some alphas actually can't control themselves no matter how much they try. They are called FERAL and are considered to be more like the original alphas that roamed during the prehistoric era.

Some extreme FERAL cases are on suppressants but they are, if correctly prescribed, only for use in the extreme cases and other therapies are recommended first which wasn't always the case.

There are also cases of alphas, generally single parents, nesting which is creating a den type space to protect themselves and their pups.

Alpha males when distressed and/or alone with a child are more likely to nest, and several families have funny little anecdotes about dads being left while the mom left on a business trip and found their husband/ partner nesting

Generally alphas, no matter the gender, are more likely to gain muscle and be more of a muscle bound body type.

But this isn't the rule and there are small alphas which are generally a very controlled and dangerous subset of the alpha population because they find ways to make up for their small size and limited muscle.

Fem α x Fem Ω cannot produce any other children than female

Fem α do NOT posses a Y chromosome

Follow the Punnett Square of Logic people

Fem α have a hard time conceiving a child and giving birth naturally and some Fem α don't even have functioning wombs

Was thought that alphas being born from betas were the strongest alphas. Actually for the purest alpha genes you need to be born from two omegas as the omegan genes cancel each other out and only leave alpha

Almost everyone has the potential to become an alpha or omega during puberty and even later in life following a tragedy.

Betas:

Don't actually have an active Secondary Gender Factor

About 40% of the population fall into the Alpha/Omega category, the rest are betas and/or children who are not yet presented

Kind of act like a stabilizing and logical spot in packs

Often seen as thirds, and the calm parent that pups go to

They are often taught, especially girls, that outbursts aren't acceptable, especially after failing to present early as a beta or alpha

Often are considered great strategists due to their lack of rut and heat clouding judgement

However they are not genetically predisposed to intelligence. They can be as dumb as anyone else.

They often fill the nerdy friend roles in TV Shows or are seen as sidekicks.

Also are often 'forgiven' [read: condescended too] about not picking up on scents and certain nonverbal cues that alphas and omegas use that the beta really… doesn't

Generally don't create children with Alpha or Omegan genes, but that's not always the case.

Beta females face the same issues surrounding gender and expectation as normal women do

So do guys because they do face issues ladies.

Pretty much are just like normal people idk

Omegas:

‘Ideal' omegas are seen as nice and submissive and good homemakers

However science would say that the closest to a true prehistoric omega are FERAL omegas

Like Alpha FERALs omegas are put on suppressants in extreme cases

There are also terrifying anecdotes of soliders 'going omega' which means experiences their first heat on the battlefield which are called 'Battlefield Omegas'

Battlefield omegas were more typical when younger people, mid teens, were set off to war see Wars of the 1600's through WW2

There have also been cases of people trying to force a heat in soldiers during dangerous situations due to the sheer viciousness and violence they can let out

Omegas are treated worse than female betas, as they were legally property for much longer historically and had practically no rights until the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960's.

Women's Rights and Omega's Rights are kind of different things even if male omegas are like women, but there were several issues just as there are today between the two groups.

They have the classic enhanced senses and seem to process information faster.

They are often brushed off as weak and tiny but if they were to get into shape many omegas would find themselves nearly as muscle bound and fight ready as alphas

Omegas had to both keep up the Alphas and protect the young. You probably don't give one part of the population huge muscle upgrades that sounds stupid.

Alphas might hunt but omegas protect the homestead and they do so viciously and with absolutely no mercy.

Generally omegas are coddled and the whole Princess thing has produced some truly terrible omega stars.

They have heats which is just a time when they might be a little more hot and bothered and fertile than normal. Generally omegas are taught control is paramount when it comes to heat.

They will also sync up with their alphas, but an omega will go through a psuedo heat during pregnancy and the first few months of their pups life to keep hormones in check but will actually nest instead.

Female omegas are ideal and that leaves many males omegas, especially the less androgynous and more obviously male omegas, feeling like they are ugly and/or unlovable

Alpha/Alpha pairings result in the most purely omega children although many of these parents are surprised when their child isn't an alpha

Generally because a pure omega isn't a nice, submissive creature and are instead hearty and dangerous in a fight with a demanding personality

Omegas are more likely to be men because why would you make someone extra fertile (Can you even measure that? Maybe less likely to have multiple births? Idk) rather than increase your pool of potential mothers

The more dangerous your home country is the more likely you're going to be born or awaken as an omega/alpha rather than a beta

[tenjouu]

revolvere (3/?)

facetious plot summary: Lancelot loses his magic upon traveling back in time to the day of Alice the Second’s arrival. How will he save the world equipped with only his winning looks and charisma? Read on to find out!

Featured in this chapter: an unusual matchup—Lancelot vs Fenrir! 

1  |  2  |  3 : fenrir goodpace

Harr confronts him, but more importantly—before that, Alice comes as the giver of good news.

“King Lancelot!” she exclaims. She saw him before he even saw her, and comes hurrying down the hallway. She’s doing a fantastic job of making this look like a one-sided Beauty and the Beast spinoff, but Lancelot can’t fault her for it; he’s quite content to see her too.

“Don’t run in the hallways,” Lancelot chastises. “It’s dangerous.”

“Yes, my king,” she obliges (sounding put-out) as she skids to a halt, and then she perks up. “Oh, King Lancelot, you shouldn’t have.”

Alice reaches out to take the tray of madeleines and eclairs from him, but Lancelot raises them out of reach. She lowers her arms, looking confused.

“I can do this much. Why not open the door instead?” he says. People always treat kings like they can’t do anything for themselves. And besides, if he lets her take the tray now, he won’t be able to eat a single one.

Alice holds open the door, and Lancelot enters first with a hum of gratitude. When she closes the door behind her, he doesn’t even have time to turn around before she takes off.

“Sirius is so happy,” she gushes. “And I think Ray’s glad that the two armies won’t actually be going to war. They’re the only two who know right now, but when will it be okay to bring more people into the fold?”

“Hello to you too, Alice,” Lancelot says wryly, taking a seat at his desk, folding his hands under his chin. He gives her a pointed look. “I’m doing fine. I missed you as well.”

Her cheeks flush red. “I get it, I get it,” she says, sidling over. “Sorry, King Lancelot. Are you well?”

He smiles. “Good,” he says, and if she dared to, she probably would’ve rolled her eyes. “Now, your message from Sirius and Blackwell?”

“Sirius said that he told Harr Silver what was going on,” she reports. “And Ray says that he wants to meet at the Civic Center as a show of confidence, and to touch base with you. And he says that it’s not a good idea to keep secrets from one’s officers, and that he’s going to tell them eventually.”

“I plan to do the same. Things are coming along nicely,” he muses. “Amon will try to contact me likely tomorrow or the day after about pacing his plans. I’ll let everyone know how to proceed after then.”

Alice hums around a mouthful of pastry when Lancelot finally sweeps his gaze back over to her. She pauses in chewing when they make direct eye contact.

“Would you like some tea with that?” he asks.

She swallows guiltily, mistaking his sincerity for reproach. “Sorry—the desserts here are really good... Please continue, King Lancelot.”

“No, I was being serious,” he says. “I’m not angry—I realized that I forgot the tea.” He pauses. “And I thought of this just now, but did you not come with a guard today?”

“Oh, Fenrir came with me again today,” she explains, “but I think he’s with Zero right now.”

He knows that Zero is meticulous and disciplined. Lancelot has complete faith in him. But that’s such a stark contrast from the first time Alice came over, where he stayed sentinel by Lancelot’s office’s door until it was time for her to leave. He points this out curiously.

Alice shifts a little under his scrutiny. “I may have...given them the...impression that you’ve been nothing but a respectful gentleman to me. Fenrir has his doubts, but he respects that I trust you.”

“Alice,” Lancelot sighs.

“It’s true!” she protests. “You’re very nice to me, King Lancelot.”

Who in their right mind would be mean? Lancelot doesn’t say. He places his hand in his chin and contemplates her. “You’re very chipper and enthusiastic about this whole thing. Though I appreciate and trust your easy cooperation, I’m curious why.”

Alice leans close and whispers conspiratorially, “I know lives are at stake, but it’s kind of exciting. And I’m just glad to help. I want to do anything I can.”

Lancelot doesn’t want to be Alice’s reason for developing a danger-loving streak. Edgar from his world would have come close to treason if he found out Lancelot had. So Lancelot simply accepts her reason for what it is and hopes to dear god that Harr will keep her away from all of the fighting, when Harr finally decides to come out of hiding.

A knock sounds at the door.

“Come in,” Lancelot calls. Just as well, he’ll ask the person to send for tea.

It’s Edgar, speak of the devil. Lancelot thinks that the universe never aligns stars in his favor. Edgar smiles as he enters.

“My king, just to confirm,” Edgar says. “Did your majesty invite the Black Ace to spar with our own?”

They’re what? How did Zero end up indulging Godspeed?

“No,” Lancelot says. He cannot be arsed to deal with it. He’s spending time with Alice right now, damn it! The Black Army gets to have her damn near 24/7; he’ll be damned if goddamn Fenrir Godspeed cuts his meager allotment in half.

Then he pauses, looking between Alice and Edgar. Alice stares back inquisitively. Edgar’s smile is impenetrable. Well, the best plans are flexible, after all. He trusts Alice to hold her own against Edgar.

“Edgar, accompany our guest on a tour around headquarters,” Lancelot declares. “I will go handle this myself.”

“My lord?” Edgar asks, still smiling. This is his version of bafflement.

“She’s easily bribed with sweets,” Lancelot supplies helpfully as he passes Edgar on his way to the door, and whooshes out the room with his cape.

/

It seems that Godspeed wasn’t actually the only one who instigated this, because Zero is tending to an unconscious man as the Ace of Spades holds his own against other soldiers.

The brawling style of Sirius never fails to impress. It’s clear he’s taught his men well. But Godspeed fights with a technique that is unmistakably his own. Wild, swift punches that shatter an enemy’s guard rather than get around, nimble sidesteps that keep him on the enemy’s non-dominant side. Lancelot gets the feeling that the man’s ambidextrous, because he watches him face off two of his soldiers and come out victorious.

“Why are you fighting my men?” Lancelot intones, finally stepping forward.

Godspeed turns to him, fists up and ready.

“Jealous?” Godspeed prompts cockily. “I’ll fight you too, Red King.”

“Interesting,” Lancelot replies. “But I must decline. I’m here to cut this short. I’m to be spending time with Alice right now, after all.”

“Then why aren’t you with her?” the man retorts. He relaxes his lean, muscled form. “If you’re afraid to bite...”

“Did you defeat Zero?” Lancelot asks.

Godspeed shrugs. “Your men have bad defense because your army relies on crystals,” he shoots back. “At least your Ace put up a good fight, but I’ve been fighting with these hands before I even picked up a sword.”

“You fight with guns. You don’t even use a sword.”

“Before I even picked up a gun,” Godspeed amends. “Anyway, it came close to a tie. You’ve got good men.” He shrugs. “But it seems like the Black Army just might be stronger in an honest fight, fist-to-fist.” He opens an eye and arches a brow at Lancelot. “Since we don’t rely on magic.”

Lancelot may be at the point in his life where he’d let a few things go because he’s got a limited supply of fucks to give, but he still has his pride as a king and warrior. Godspeed is an amateur at trash talk; instead, he brings genuinely good criticism, but one thing he’s got wrong is the magic. Lancelot doesn’t mind teaching him a lesson. If he loses to this upstart, he’ll abdicate the throne and retire straight to the graveyard, effectively immediately.

“You seem strong,” Lancelot says, shedding his cape, and then coat.

Godspeed’s amber eyes light up impossibly bright, almost feral as he grins. “No magic, Red King. No unfair advantages.”

“No magic,” Lancelot agrees.

Fenrir Godspeed puts up his fists and charges in.

Lancelot, even though he’s taller and less fluid in his movements, makes up for agility with unyielding defense. Godspeed keeps his battle calm, refusing to let frustration get the best of him. Some hits land where they would hurt, but Lancelot has fought Sirius a few times, and these blows are like taps in comparison.

“You’re not bad,” Godspeed grunts. “Rusty, but solid.”

Lancelot doesn’t answer. The man is the type to talk during a fight, it seems. He breaks past Lancelot’s guard with a well-aimed jab and lands a blow across his jaw—before Lancelot can even blink, he pivots back, like an acrobat. He raises his leg and sends Lancelot back with a sharp kick to the chest. Lancelot emits a sound of pain.

“Seems like I’ve got you beat in agility, old man,” Godspeed crows on his follow-through with another uppercut, thinking he’s sure to win with this last move.

“You might,” Lancelot agrees, letting gravity pull him down. He folds into himself, ducking from the swing, catching himself on his hands.

He lifts his lower half and uses his legs to sweep Godspeed’s feet from under him. A loud squawk follows as his back hits the grass. Lancelot keeps his legs constricted around his own. Godspeed’s tiny frame can’t win against Lancelot’s brute strength.

“But I’m not stiff,” Lancelot says, twisting his body up, and presses his arm against Godspeed’s neck. “Your loss.”

Godspeed’s furious glare tempers itself to a good-natured resentment. The fight fades from his eyes, and he sighs, letting his head fall against the ground. His eyes close, and the wind ruffles their hair as their breathing comes under control.

The battle was over in five minutes, but Godspeed had been fighting before Lancelot joined the fray, after all. He doubts that a fresh Ace of Spades would lose so quickly.

And he’s still young, after all. He’ll take this loss gamely and get over it. He’s a century too early trying to pick a fight with a king.

Speaking of age—

When Lancelot unentangles their limbs and pulls Godspeed up, he arches an authoritative brow.

“Old man?” he repeats.

To his surprise, Godspeed looks abashed. “Oh...did I say that? Sorry,” he says awkwardly, face scrunched up. “It slipped out. Whenever Sir—the queen—agrees to spar...uh, he’s—um—easy to rile up...” He grimaces. “I realize that was out of line, King of Hearts.”

Lancelot snorts. Godspeed gives him an incredulous double take.

“I’m younger than Sirius is, so I’m quite secure in my vigor,” Lancelot replies. “This ‘old man’ just beat you, after all.”

Godspeed makes a sour face but ducks his head, accepting his loss.

“Infirmary, I think. For my men, and for me,” says Lancelot. “I don’t particularly care for bruising on my face.”

Something must have changed between before the fight and after, because Godspeed grumbles, “Sorry,” under his breath as Lancelot turns to Zero.

“Don’t be,” Lancelot says simply. “Don’t do things that you don’t mean.”

[day-en-las-nubes]

“We are not just friends and you know it” PART III

“Excuse me?” The voice insisted.

“Huh?” With a crumbled heart I veered my eyes from Branden to the source where the high-pitched male voice was coming from.

“This party, I mean!” He gestured with his glass.  “Marie never disappoints!” He exclaimed, awkwardly cheerful. I tried to place his roundish face, but as much as I tried, I couldn’t remember where I had seen this plump, jolly man.

“Oh, right…” I involuntarily glanced back to the spot where Branden had been standing minutes ago, but he had vanished.

I downed my cup of beer, perilously attempting to anesthetize the whirlwind of emotions running rampant within my chest.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” He inquired, emphatically. I had momentarily forgotten his presence, and so smiled apologetically at him.

“Forgive me, but I don’t.” I answered, fidgeting with my helix piercing.

“We danced to that one Sia song about two years ago. My name is Josh?” He leaned in as if trying to retain my easily-diverted attention.

“Who the fuck cares?” My heart stopped when I heard him speak. Branden was standing behind Josh. His lean, graceful appearance made the unfortunate guy look even shorter and bulkier than he already was.

Josh looked up at him, astonished. His content disposition turning robotic and apprehensive. His demeanor almost reminded me of that of a mouse cornered by a feral cat - that feral cat being my best friend’s imposing brother.

“I apologize, I didn’t know s-she was not…” He started to say, but Branden was no longer addressing him in the least. Instead, his powerful focal point was relentlessly directed at me.

“Get lost.” He hissed at Josh flatly, his eyes still burning a hole through me.

Josh swiftly slithered from between us, his freckled face several shades paler. I lifted my chin, feigning immunity to Branden’s intimidating methods, and took a step forward.

His steel grip around my arm stopped me in my tracks.

“You are not avoiding me tonight.” He assured me, with hints of pain in his tone.

“You don’t tell me what to do…” I snarled back at him. “If you think I’m going to obey you blindly like poor Josh just did, you are going to be sadly disappointed, Branden.”

“When it comes to disappointment, trust me, you’ve already outdone yourself.” He retorted, releasing my arm. His menacing features softened as he spoke.

My heart ached like never before when I watched the dejection mirrored in his blaringly green eyes.

“Why are you even insisting so much on ‘us’?” I turned, ready to walk away, but I found myself unable to.

“Are you really going to make me say it, Tatiana?” He rolled his eyes. “I’m in…” He began, but I started to shake my head in denial.

I had been able to handle the way he was looking at me, the smell of his cologne as he had gotten closer, I could even handle the contact of his hand on my arm, but hearing him say the words his eyes were conveying…

…I was not nearly that strong.

I spotted Marie a few steps away from us, her brow furrowed as she peeked in our direction.

“Why don’t you go screw one of your lady friends and get over it, already?” I told him, raggedly, my focus set only on my best friend’s disappointed face. “You can’t bully your way in this time.” I walked away, tears brimming the rims of my eyes.

I ran straight for the keg and filled another glass, my hand shaking. I took a deep breath trying to steady my shredded heart.

Everything started to spin. All around me, people’s laughs became the most deafening of sounds. The music became this boisterous screech that echoed in my eardrums, making my temples throb with a merciless migraine.

“I saw you talking to my brother.” Marie snuck behind me. “If he is bothering or something you better let me know this instant!” She warned, placing her frail, slim hand on my shoulder.

“He was just saying ‘hi’,” I lied, working arduously to hide my despair.

“Are you crying?” She asked, trying to get me to look at her.

“I just need a sec.” I threw my plastic cup in the trash as I kept from facing her. I headed to Marie’s master bathroom, the need to cry taking me over entirely.

I pushed the door open and went inside. I fixed the palm of each hand on the edge the wide, granite sink for support. Mascara stained tears rolled down my cheeks and landed all around the silver water faucet.

I drowned out my wailing with a hand firmly pressed against my lips as I let myself collapsed on the bathroom floor.

A couple of people came knocking, claiming the guest bathroom was occupied, but I successfully shooed them away by devising some horrific story that involved bodily fluids.

I needed to make it through this, and the isolation was definitely helping. I felt at ease, but only for a few moments.

The knock that came next was the most authoritarian and determined of the night. Whoever it was, banged his fists against the wood loudly even after I used my graphic bathroom story that had worked wonders on others.

“You don’t want to come in here!” I yelled, losing all hope.

I leaped back when I witnessed the door abruptly being broken in as if it were made of mere paper.

Branden rushed to me, crunching over. He looked so perplexed and beautiful as he tenderly wiped my black tears with his thumb.

“I’ve been looking all over for you.” He whispered, hoarsely.

“I didn’t mean any of it, Branden… I swear.” I reached out to touch him, but he stood up.

“Are you trying to drive me fucking crazy?” He rubbed the back of his neck, impatiently.

I got on my feet and circled his waist, my hands unbuttoning his shirt with the utmost urgency. Branden grabbed both my wrists and pushed me away.

“I’m sorry!” I sobbed, as I observed him turn away from me. I clung tightly to his back, the expensive smell oozing off of him, dizzying me.

“What the hell do you want from me?” He snapped, unclasping my hands from his torso, effortlessly.

“I want you to fuck me.”  The words blurted out of my throat before I could intercept them.

Branden paused, his back to me still. I remained motionless, only a couple of steps from him. My stomach churned with feelings of desire and fear and anxiety and yearning.

He lowered his head, as someone who’s struggling with themselves.

“What did you just say to me?” He asked, unreadably.

“I need your cock buried deep inside me, I want you to make me cum like only you can.” I admitted, recoiling, my back against the white, tile wall.

Branden turned around promptly, his eyes fiery and dangerously exciting. He launched toward me and flipped me around, my cheek squished against the cold tile.

He removed my dress roughly, pulling its fabric off of my body without the slightest hint of delicacy. Sparks ignited as his huge hands reached from behind and fondled my round breasts.

The sound of his heavy breathing in my ear made my throbbing center pour with the warmest of moisture.

He pulled down my underwear and suckled alongside my leg, all the way to my curvy ass. I heard the sound of his zipper, my sensitive skin completely overwhelmed by the anticipation of feeling his massive length slip into me.

“You want me to make you cum, you said? He asked, temptingly.

I nodded, reaching behind me blindly until my hand was curled around his stiff, thick cock.

A moan escaped from my lips as I lined his swollen head in my sopping entrance. I coated his shaft with my own wetness. I began to glide my hand back and forth.

His engorged tip tapping my clit as I pumped his cock faster.

His hands ran up and down my hips possessively; the pressure intensified between my legs.

“I want to see you this time!” I cried out, my climax getting closer with each unyielding tap of his cock.

���After the hell you’ve put me through tonight? Right!” He taunted darkly, as he shoved his cock savagely inside my slippery hole.

A sharp, mind-numbingly delectable pain pierced through me as he sank his hips hard against my ass. The sexiest groan came out of his gorgeous mouth as he kept plunging all the way into me.

Branden had me breathless and overtaken by his impetuous movements, I felt myself getting too close too fast.

I whimpered when his teeth sank unexpectedly in my shoulder, pushing me over the edge at once. His own body stilling just a second after I reached my personal heaven. His cum ejected deep inside me, as his rigid cock jerked hard against my tight walls.

He remained connected to me until he had fully emptied. Our sweet mixture ran down my thighs as he pulled out slowly.

I turned around and saw him tucking his massive cock back into his pants and zipping them up.

His lips were slightly parted and he was still heaving, visibly trying to recover.

“Marie is going to freak when she notices yet another door tore up.” I joked, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“She’ll just make me pay for this one, as well.” He added, something seemed off about the way he acted. “Here you go.” He bent over and gave me back my dress, his voice as icy as the harshest winter. He straightened his shirt in front of the bathroom mirror, avoiding eye contact with me.

“Branden…” I called out, watching in awe his physical flawlessness.

“What is it?” He turned to face me, his expression devoid of all emotion. I hung by his elbow, my head resting on his tricep. I became utterly aware at that moment that running would always be pointless; that my feelings for this man were here to stay and there was no fighting them.

“Marie is going to come round, we just have to prove ourselves to her.” I told him. He plucked my hand from his skin.

“You can stop worrying about Marie, Tatiana.” He said, each word as razor-sharp as his penetrating and cruel stare. “Just stop.” He reiterated.

“But, I thought we…” My voice broke, rendering me unable to speak.

“We just fucked.” He walked toward the bathroom door. “It’s time for you to know how it fucking felt all these weeks.” He declared bitterly, closing the door behind him. 

[a-plethaura-ask-blog]

So, I started this comic page about a few months ago. (yeah, I know, it really narrows it down, huh?) This was a comic page intro I was going to do for my AU ContaminationTale. However, there are quite a lot of things stopping me from actually making the comic. I want to start a comic, but I think I would do fairly poorly at actually making a good comic that will keep attention.

I also have all of my characters designed for ContaminationTale, but I do not want to actually do them digitally cause I am afraid I will mess it up. I am bad at character reference sheets. I love to have something going on, or something more implied, and not just a character. However, I hope I will fix that with myself soon.

The backstory behind ContaminationTale is besically something kinda similar but very adjacent to how Error Sans was formed. As confusing as it is, allow me to elaborate-

ContaminationTale is an AU where classic Undertale is taken over and corrupted by a strange human that is not Chara, or the other human souls. It is just a random human that had run across the world and watched the events of the world pan out. So in a way, they are like a way to breach the 4th wall, whilst not being able to communicate with the obersevers of the AU. (Myself, or people that may view my works) Here is the old set of information I made for ContaminationTale when it was first created. Including characters, places, items, food and other stuff like that.

[ ° Basic Information ° ]

» Classic Undertale ™ is slowly fading away, being overshadowed by it's many various AU's, which have became far more popular than the classic game. So when the infamous, and to-say-the-least very unwelcome 'Shadow Player' comes back, and completely takes control of the game, he controls all of the characters as well. Now, running on only hate, fear and sadness; Undertale is going to make a fatal, feral strike-back at the many AU that fans so ADORE.

[ ° AU Connections ° ]

➡ All of the AU, over a large span of years, have managed to completely coincide with each other and accept each other's existence. They even have come to think of each other as kin. Family and such. Error is way more level, having been around Ink and Blue so much made him less homicidal and seemed to get rid of his 'God-Syndrome'. Other more homicidal AU, such as Horror and Killer have also calmed down murder wise, however they do have their slip ups. Nightmare since then had also split into two versions of himself. Night, who is the one with no black ooze on him is able to be with dream, and be happy, and Nightmare, who is more level in the head, but still a jerk. At times there can be tension but they all get over it rather fast. This is called the 'Pacification of the Bad AU' (As restated later, this is NO WHERE NEAR CANON. This is for the plot of ContaminationTale.)

Quick Note: As another note, in this AU, the monsters hate killing, and Chara was pacified. He is in the same boat as the monsters. The monsters of ContaminationTale used what free code they were able to spare to make it to where any AU versions of themselves they killed respawned in the Flower Patch being as it was the furthest from most of the while they were able to keep their 'good' conscious. The person who hacked them was unable to reverse it.

[ ° Characters ° ] (All Characters keep their same personalities when in their 'Free Form' however, in their 'Contaminant Form' they all remain kind of similar to themselves, but become homocidal, and attack any AU characters soon there after, or instantly.

» Sans

» Papyrus

» Grillby

» Toriel

» Gaster

» Asgore

» Alphys

» Asriel

» Flowey

» Undyne

» Burgerpants

» Mettaton

» Nopstablook

» Temmie

» Doggo

» Monster Kid

» Monster Kids Parents

» Chara

» Frisk

» Endogeny

» Muffet

[ ° Common Reference Places ° ]

» The Waterfall

➡ No longer exists. When the world started to vanish, the waterfall went first and was unable to be brought back.

» Grillby's Bar

➡ Doesn't really function as a bar anymore. This place is actually more it less used for medical treatment and a weapon station.

» Echo Flower garden/field/cave

➡ All places that have echo flowers in them are or can be used for a torture room. When a person is trapped in there, the flowers only scream, cry and laugh at the being inside. There are no identified words that are ever said, other than 'DIE'.

» MTT Station

➡ This place is actually used for the Shadow Players base and planning area. Off limits and heavily guarded with technology. It had many secret operative plans that happen in it all the time.

»Asgore's Castle

➡ Mostly a moot point area. However when any of the classic monsters die they respawn in the center room of the castle. However the center room is also a jail cell and the monster that spawns there gets three days solitary confinement for getting killed.

» Flowey's Flower Patch

➡ Any au characters that are killed in ContaminationTale that are not part of the AU spawn in the flower patch. Other than that this location is rather useless.

» Toriel's Ruins

➡ Long since abandoned. However the au characters that come to ContaminationTale often regroup, stay and recoop themselves here. They use this as a base and plan area. It provides shelter to those AU that can't make Portals like Dream can.

» Alphys Lab

➡ Used to mix poisons, and is filled with mechanical body parts used to replace lost limbs that didn't kill the victim. It is also used to overview the town and make traps.

» Sans Station - Bridge Crossing

➡ Loaded to the brim with motion sensors and traps ready for the unsuspecting. This causes confusion is and can be very dangerous if you are not careful or nimble because stuff comes at you from all sides.

[ ° Common Food and Food Stats ° ]

- Cinnamon Bun - (Restores 25 HP)

- Hot Dog w/ Bun - (Restores 50 HP)

- Hard Tac (Restores 30 HP)

- Alfrado ( Restores 100 HP)

- Cupcake (Restores 10 HP)

- Spaghetti ( Restores 50 HP)

- Pie (Restores 40 HP)

- Candy (Restores 5 HP each)

[ ° Weaponry ° ]

» Sans Butcher's Knife

➡ /+30 ATK/ - /-5 SPD/ - /+10 HP/

↪ Fire Perk - With this Sans can give the Butcher Knives the ability to set themselves on fire on the blade. However this one lasts for a few attacks before he has to build up a charge again.

» Papyrus's Bone Staff

➡ /+40atk/ - /-5spd/ - /+15hp/

↪ Dead Weight Perk - The dead weight Perk is used to inflict extra damage on characters when a weapon is swung. The dead weight puts more pressure and force behind the attack. Depending on how willing he is the fight, it affects how well Papyrus is able to use his weapon.

» Gaster's Scythe

➡ /+10 HP/ - /-5 SPD/ - /+15-20 ATK/

↪ Invisibility Perk : This makes the weapon itself unable to be seen by the naked eye after so many attacks for a stent of time. However you can still see the weapons shadow is it is in a lit area. That's why Gaster is more likely not to be found in dark scenery or places. If there is light anywhere, that is where you need to stay. Gaster also has the ability to blend into the dark, and it makes him a harder opponent.

»Toriel's Arrows

➡ /+10 SPD/ - /- 5 HP/ - /+5 ATK/

↪ Tipped Arrows ; this means they are actually poisoned with a small odor causes nausea, draining HP, and confusion to enemy characters. It however takes a small toll on her health every time she shoots an arrow. This is why she alters the arrows she uses. Her alterations come in an irregular patterns and it is spontaneous when she pulls one out.

» Asgore's Scepter

➡ /-15 SPD/ - /+10 ATK/ - /+0 HP/

↪ Electricity : like any other weapon, this one reacts better to opposite elements. The weapons this one better completed and takes out are wooden and metal weapons. It can not travel through rubber or other materials that have specific metals that do not connect well with the ability to travel through. If he uses a lightning based attack on a material that is not a conductor, the electricity comes back to him and will either stun him, or be shot off somewere else.

» Asriel's Slingshot

➡ /+10 SPD/ - /+5 ATK/ - /+ 0 HP/

↪ Explosive pellets are the thing that Asriel launches from his sling. These pellets are strong mini fireworks packed with acid. When it touches skin,fur or bone, even metal, it burns around the area it hit with a 5-7 inch radius. Depending on where he hits and what he hits, it can cause serious damage and make someone get bad infections.

» Undyne's Spear

➡ /-0 SPD/ - /+5 HP/ - /+10 ATK/

↪ Dead Weight Perk: Similar to Papyrus, her Spears are made of basic magic they don't have any initial weight untill they are seeing seeing at a Target. So initially her perk is the same as Papyrus's perk from there. However, if she is close enough, she can cause her weapon to lose all it's weight for faster movement, and gain all of it for maximum impact.

» Mettaton's Gun

➡ /+15 SPD/ - /+0HP/ - /+10 ATK/

↪ Silencer - the gun have no special or notable perks but it is good for power and stealth kills. The silencer makes it to where there is only ever A very faint click heard if the gun is fired. The gun itself fires off long bullets/pellets that are filled with acid. The second the bullet goes into skin, or hits something and gets stuck, the acid will start to burn through it.

» Frisk's Staff

➡ /-10 SPD/ - /+5 HP/ - /+5 ATK/

↪ Knock Back Perk : This makes a large gust of pressurized air go at the opponent and knock them down effectively for 1-3 attacks. Mainly due to having the 'wind' knocked out of them. /Funny? Only me? Ok... ;W;/ either way, this makes it to where Frisk usually does not have to get too close to anyone or anything and keeps them a safer distance away from the action while still being able to help out.

» Chara's Knife

➡ /+15 HP/ - /+15 ATK/ - /+5 SPD/

↪ Long Range Perk : after weapon is used so many times, the weapon can go through a stent of long range power ups. That means when the blade is swung it creates a red projectile cutting Lazer in the form of the slice and can only go forward for for up to 15 feet. Once it reaches that and is unable to catch anything, the attack turns to the ground, and goes into it. This can cause the ground to gain holes in it that are up to 25 feet in depth. After so many missed attacks, it will cause the ground to collapse, taking less space for movement against the enemies.

» Grillby's Arrows

➡ /-10 HP/ - /+20 ATK/ - /+10 SPD/

↪ Fire Perk : the fire only goes out when he snaps his fingers, but his fire in particular can't burn polyester. However, after so many uses, his fire won't reactivate itself until he has had a 10 minute rest.

» Tikal's Lasso

➡ /+5 SPD/ - /+10 ATK/ - /+0 HP/

↪ no perks, batter for stealth attacks

»Muffet's Glass Throwing Knives

➡ /+10 SPD/ - /+5 ATK/ - /+5 HP/

↪ respawn: if the knives are broken, they rebuild the partial belt bag, it might be better just to have more battle ready

» Alphys' Axe

➡ /-15 SPD/ - /+20 ATK/ - /+5 HP

» Monster Kid/Family Tail + Crossbows

➡ /+25 SPD/ - /+30 ATK/ - /-10 HP/

↪ no perks

[ ° All Weaponless Characters ° ]

» Temmie

» Burgerpants

» Doggo

» Endogeny

» Napstablook

» Flowey

[ ° Weaponless Characters Abilities ° ]

» Temmie

- Speed Attack: Used to confuse and knock out characters. Temmie runs around them and strikes their body in various places to try to cause more consistent confusion.

» Doggo

- Lock Jaw: Doggo locks his jaw around anyone's limbs. He won't let go until you give into Contaminated or you break his jaw. On the same note, if you break his jaw, his teeth will break from his jaw and sink into your skin until the contamination is spread. In the matter of 3 hours, his teeth grow back, and his jaw repairs itself.

» Endogeny

- Corrupt : uses the shades to possess enemies and attack other enemies or take themselves out.

» Burgerpants

- Incinerate: he always has a lighter and gasoline on him somewhere. So when he reacts he can use it to gradually put on his enemies then he can burn them alive when he lights it up.

» Flowey

- Vines : Shred or Strangle - Flowey can either crush his opinions with several Vines or throw needles at the enemy that are hard to dodge and have incredible sharpness.

» Napstablook

- Sonic Scream: Nopstablook screams silently at the other one enemies and the sound waves lower defense, and confuse them. It also makes them unable to see straight, makes them nautious and can cause surrounding items or building parts to collapse, gain damage or go haywire

[ ° Common World Items ° ]

* Machine Parts

- (Commonly found in the lab, or Mettatons News Station.) The machine parts vary, however, there is no real use for gears anymore, otherwise as throwing weapons. However, longer machine parts are used to make traps, or as close range weapons such as bo-staffs.

* Desk Supplies

- (Can be found anywhere) Desk supplies unclude things such as tape, pencils, pens, paper and other forms of common utilities. These also serve as weapons. They are easier to hide, find, and store without being weighed down.

* Marbles

- ( A rare find that some monsters used to posses. Such as Toriel) These are used as a good tripping device, or as a good distraction to those that can't avoid them.

* Contaminated Black Tar

- (Everywhere) This black tar only forms when a monster from Undertale / ContaminationTale is killed. Instead of turning into a pile of ashes, or dust, the turn into black goo and reform in the stated 'respawn' point. This can afflict other AU or humans that enter the world and turn them into a being like the afflicted monsters. However, since they are not considered 'Undertale' characters, they find a way to kill / destroy themselves. If they are just a human from the surface world, they will destroy themselves and not regenerate. However, if the are an AU, they regenerate fully healed in Flowey's flower patch.

* Silverware

- (Anywhere) This also serves as a great weapon.

* Broken Pipes

- (Inside walls and other items they can be placed in) these are used both weapons on 'inobvious spyware. They are all stuck into walls in order to spy around and keep an eye out without being seen right away.

>> Other Things to Clarify <<

1) As you have seen, there are both a "Flowey" and an "Asriel" in this AU. This was not a mistake, or an error in planning. They are both separate characters.

2) The 'Affiliations with other AU' including known AU Sanses or other characters is NOT CANON. I know most of you know this already, however, this is to those who get easily offended. The other AU checking in on the 'Classic' world is because if something happens to destroy Undertale, ALL OF THE AU will be destroyed in the process.

3) Undertale and ContaminationTale are both the same thing here. I know you all think that since it is an AU like this, it might be like Dust, or Killer Sans and they diverge into another AU. Which is both true, and not true. It becomes it's own AU later, however I have it set up to exist where the other AU characters need to help the Undertale characters escape their situation and beat the hacker first.

4) After the hacker is beaten, ContaminationTale becomes its own AU where it lives abandoned, and no AU characters come into it anymore. Meaning the reason behind it's existance is actually kind of futile, and the human gets killed by the ContaminationTale monsters later only to come back. It turns into an ever-turning genocide AU.

5) ContaminationTale Characters can only kill other copies of theselves so they are more equally matched. If they attack a version of another monster, most of their attacks will be barely even able to cause damage, no matter how powerful. This is due to a slip-up in the coding that contaminated them.

6) The main reason the other AU care so much about helping this AU is because at the time it is still 'Undertale' not just 'ContaminationTale'. Undertales code is becoming unstable, and it is inevitable that it will cause Undertale itself to collapse. Killing all of the AU Sanses and their respective AU.

//Afternote: Another reason I made this AU is cause Classic is usually helping the other AU, and the other AU don't really help him out. So I wanted to change that. I also feel bad cause Undertale ins't as popular as it's AU anymore. I did a survey with all the Undertale Lovers in my school, and I was the only one who voted on Classic Undertale out of 76 kids. :( //

[javocjovian]

An Angel and Demon In Us All, SPN Bingo

Title: An Angel and Demon In Us All Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17444402/chapters/42456284 Square Filled: Meg!Sam Ship: Meg!Sam x Castiel Rating: E Tags: Consensual, Seductive Meg!Sam, Sex while possessed, Grace sex, Possession bondage, Anal, Slight wing kink, Cuddling. Summary: Sam lets Meg possess him in order to save her life. She immediately tries to seduce Castiel. Sam is so okay with this. Word Count: 2145

Created for @spnkinkbingo

Quote:

Castiel’s soft grunts and groans rang clear in the tall ceilinged room, but Sam’s voice echoed. He shouted and begged in pleasure, and Castiel couldn’t tell if it was Meg or Sam anymore. He didn’t know what was sexier – the fact that Meg was so into this, or the fact that Sam was.

An Angel and Demon In Us All

 Sam didn’t know how it went so bad so fast – they were just supposed to be keeping watch. Castiel, Meg, and himself were outside the warehouse while Dean and Benny sneaked around inside. It was an odd group, but desperate times called for desperate measures. The next thing they knew, demons were swarming them from all sides and Meg was down. Sam got Meg to safety while Castiel fought them off.

“Cas!” Sam shouted. “We need to get out of here! Get Dean!”

“No!” Castiel panted, “The building’s warded. We need to clear them a path out.”

Sam looked around desperately. This was bad. Meg had taken down a few of her fellows but there were too many. A demon jumped Sam and he stabbed him with the demon blade.

“Sam,” Meg slurred. “The warding... Only Cas could get me inside. Leave me and go.”

Sam didn’t respond. He didn’t fully trust Meg, but he trusted Castiel. And he knew Castiel didn’t want anyone left behind.

“Sam. Leave me.”

“We’re not leaving anyone.” Sam breathed.

“Then you know what you gotta do.”

Sam’s jaw clenched. He looked over his shoulder at Castiel, then at the warded building. It a new kind of warding Sam had discovered in the Men of Letters bunker; it deterred all demons except those escorted by the bearer of the blood used for the seal, which in this case was Castiel. But Meg was in no shape to move. So Sam took a steadying breath and turned the blade on himself. “Fine. Hurry up and do it.”

Meg smiled lazily.

 Sam and Castiel smashed down a boarded up window and threw themselves into the warehouse. Demon smoke bounced off the invisible border and ricocheted away into the night. Sam and Castiel watched apprehensively, then sank onto the dusty floor in shock. For a while the only sounds were that of their labored breaths and the wind howling outside. Castiel’s hand was clasped firmly on Sam’s arm, and Sam’s tattoo was bleeding down his ripped shirt.

Finally, Sam smirked, “Well I’d say that worked out pretty well.”

Castiel glanced at him warily, “That was risky, Sam. If you hadn’t gotten to me in time you would have been warded, too.”

Sam got up and stretched stiffly, “He knows.” Meg dismissed him in Sam’s voice. He walked over to Castiel and patted his head. “Heal up, buttercup. You’re hurt.”

“So are you.”

“Not in this body.” Sam quirked a brow, still smirking, “And it’s a pretty great one if you haven’t noticed. Or maybe you have.” He rose a brow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sam ignored him and was examined himself lazily. “Kudos, Sam. Looks like the adrenaline and powerbar diet is really working out for you.” He picked vaguely at his fingernails.

Castiel felt winded listening to him. Her. Whichever. “Well, we just have to wait for Dean and Benny now. I’m sure we can finish off the rest of the demons with their help.” He stole a glance at Meg. “You can leave Sam now, right?”

“Are you inviting me in for slumber party, Clarence?” Sam tilted his head, “Because I don’t see a whole lot of other options. There may be a rat somewhere in here...”

“Right.” Castiel sighed, “Well, just… be careful.” He looked away from her.

“Mhm. Say, why don’t you call Dean and tell him we’re waiting inside now?”

“Can’t. I don’t have my phone. Sam should.”

Sam checked his pockets, coming dangerously close to groping himself a few times.

Castiel eyed him anxiously.

“Relax, would you?” He found the phone in his back pocket, flipped it open, and dialed Dean. “Dean! How are you? That’s great.” He said in one sultry breath, “Listen, the boys and I got ambushed by demons. We’re waiting for you inside.”

Castiel jumped up in realization and tried to take the phone, but Meg was taller now. And she was enjoying it. Sam bit back a grin, standing on his tiptoes to keep the phone just out of reach of Castiel. “No, nothing’s wrong at all! I feel better than usual actually. Sexier, too. Mhm. No, you had it right the first time...” He sounded bored again. “Yes, yes… I’ll leave your brother once we’re...” There was a loud click. “Huh.” Sam looked in the phone in mild amusement. “He hung up on his own brother. What an ass.”

Castiel gave him a warning look.

“Oh come on, Cas. It’s a joke. Sam’s laughing in here, trust me.”

When Castiel gave him that skeptical look of his, Sam took Castiel’s hand in his larger one and put it on his forehead. “See for yourself.” She invited.

Castiel looked hesitant, but he closed his eyes. For a second he sensed Sam. Meg wasn’t lying. Sam wasn’t panicked or asking for help. He was calm. A little annoyed, but ready to do the time if it meant they got out of there in one, or less, pieces. Castiel removed his hand.

“See?” Sam smiled.

“Alright.” Castiel nodded. He backed up, looking anywhere but at Sam.

Sam quirked a brow, “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”

Castiel glanced at him, wide eyed.

Sam’s smile widened. He folded his arms across his broad chest and leaned on one hip, doing a striking impression of Meg. “You are. You’re getting off on seeing me in this giant, muscular body.”

“That’s not… What are you implying?” He squinted at him.

Sam tilted his head knowingly, “Oh Cas, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Sam is pretty hot after all. Doesn’t take a genius to notice that.” He leaned casually against a crate. “So what do you say? Should we have a little fun before the cavalry arrives?” He purred.

Castiel felt winded again. He looked around, avoiding Sam’s gaze like it was a sin, “No. No. We can’t. It’s wrong.”

Sam shrugged, “Suit yourself.”

Castiel swallowed.

Sam let the silence spiral horribly. The windows around them rattled softly in the wind. Castiel sat back down stiffly.

“So.” Sam sighed, his gaze sliding over to Castiel. “How do you want to pass the time?”

“We could sit here quietly.” He offered.

Sam groaned. He sat down beside Castiel anticlimactically.

“You know… Sam wouldn’t say no to you.”

Castiel glanced over at him.

“I’m in his head. I can see all his secret little feelings. Sometimes he thinks about you when he touches himself.” He bit his lip. “He wonders what it would be like… with an Angel of the Lord.”

Castiel felt dizzy, “I… that’s… Sam wouldn’t want me to know that. Even if it’s true.”

“Why would I lie, Cas?” Sam asked seriously. He turned to face Cas and put his hands on his shoulders. “He reveres you, you know.” He almost sounded annoyed by it. And yet, he slid a leg over Castiel’s lap and smoothly sat himself down. “Besides, Sam’s got the juice to force me out if he wanted to.” He put Castiel’s hands on his waist and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “And uh… if you haven’t noticed… I’m still here.”

Castiel’s jaw was slack, and his eyes were hazy. “He really… I mean, he’s really...”

“Into you? Yup.” Sam pressed himself against Castiel, rolling his ass teasingly on Castiel’s lap. “And he’s really, really into this. You and me, in his body.”

Castiel felt his heart thumping against his chest. He closed his eyes as he felt Sam’s breath ghost his lips. The next thing Castiel knew, he was grabbing Sam and pulling him into a kiss.

Sam hummed in interest and immediately kissed back, nipping and sucking on his lips. They made out shamelessly in the warehouse, humping and grinding against each other, until Castiel couldn’t take anymore. They began stripping each other and, in less than a minute, Castiel was pushing Sam onto the floor. Sam’ was half naked with his jeans and boxers around one leg and his shirt pulled up. He was missing a boot. Castiel’s pants were around his calves and his shirt was open. He lifted Sam’s butt off the warehouse floor, prepped him with grace, then sank his cock deep into Sam’s tight, wet body.

Sam cried out in pleasure. It was a sound Castiel couldn’t have dreamed of. It was so indulgent and radiant that he couldn’t help but begin fucking Sam at once.

Meg and Sam gasped in unison as Castiel ravaged them both on the floor. Through Meg’s eyes, Sam saw Castiel’s dark wings flared out, each feather quivering with lust. His tie was swept over his shoulder, and his body was flushed and taut. He looked downright feral, and neither Sam nor Meg Sam had ever been so turned on.

Lubricant seeped out of Sam with every thrust, creating a mess at Castiel’s scuffed knees. Castiel’s soft grunts and groans rang clear in the tall ceilinged room, but Sam’s voice echoed. He shouted and begged in pleasure, and Castiel couldn’t tell if it was Meg or Sam anymore. He didn’t know what was sexier – the fact that Meg was so into this, or the fact that Sam was.

Sam was completely erect and leaking precum, so Meg reached down to stroke him. She clearly had not been expecting it to feel as good as it did. Sam shuddered in surprise and moaned hotly. All of Sam’s muscles melted around Castiel as Meg got to know his cock. Castiel helped her, guiding her hand with his own. Sam made a sound that sounded more like Sam than Meg – an overwhelmingly encouraging sound – as both angel and demon played with his cock.

It was a kind of bondage Sam had never experienced: his own body was his binding. He was free in his mind, yet he couldn’t do a damned thing to affect the sensations; he could only endure them. Meg and Castiel had full reign and, between the two of them, they played him just right. They attacked his most sensitive spots, driving him crazy with pleasure.

Castiel hiked Sam’s ass onto his lap, and the resulting angle made Meg cry out in alarm. Castiel nearly stopped, until he realized what had happened: He’d found Sam’s prostate. Castiel grabbed Sam’s thighs to hold that position, then fucked Sam’s prostate until both he and Meg were a trembling, cursing mess. Meg had stopped stroking Sam, so Castiel took over, pumping his cock expertly. Sam, or maybe it was Meg, stretched out with their arms above their head, mouth open wide, completely lost in bliss. He arched on Castiel’s lap and moaned his name over and over again. The sight of Sam so undone, murmuring and whimpering with Meg’s simpering tone, was almost too much for Castiel. He was going to come any second.

At last, Sam’s body seized up on the floor. Castiel stroked the cum right out of him as Sam cried out in ecstasy. Castiel was right behind him. He groaned and came hard in Sam’s ass, working through it to milk them both dry.

When all three of them were winded, Castiel collapsed atop Sam, panting and gasping in unison. Sam could feel his feathers brushing against him as his wings spread out on the floor. Meg reached forward and pulled Castiel close. It was Heaven.

“Congratulations, Clarence.” Meg sighed. “You’ve officially nailed a demon and Sam Winchester at the same time.” She hummed in his ear. “Feel good?”

Castiel nodded lazily. “Yes.” He said, cuddling them both.

“Hm… Sam is one happy camper, believe me.” She smirked. “Oh. And he likes your feathers.”

Castiel looked surprised. For a moment his wings shrunk a little, like they were hiding, but then he relaxed again. “Oh really? Well...” He nuzzled Sam’s lips with his own. “Sam Winchester is welcome to see them anytime he wants.”

Meg hummed in approval, petting Castiel’s feathers.

Sam’s phone rang, dragging them all back to reality. Meg found it by her feet, but she gave it to Castiel and lay back down to relax.

 After some quick cleaning up and getting dressed, Castiel and Meg were greeting Dean and Benny. They’d found what they were looking for and were ready to take on the demons. Except… the demons were gone. Castiel looked at Meg suspiciously. Dean hadn’t stop glaring at her since they met up. Meg, or Sam, was beaming.

Overall, it had been a successful mission for all involved. Castiel healed Meg’s body and she returned to it without issue. She seemed happy to have herself back, except she kept hinting that she missed having one part of Sam in particular. Sam avoided everyone’s gaze for a while, but eventually everything returned to normal. When Meg thanked him for temporary housing, he thanked her back and smiled at Castiel. Castiel blushed furiously.

Dean and Benny decided not to ask any questions.