#number two how the FUCK did holly do this

[andiwriteordie]

*clears throat* get ready for the most ridiculous thing i’ve ever conceptualized

not to get all up in my holly wheeler bullshit again but i’m gonna need you to imagine some kind of chaotic world in which holly in the 1990s watches home alone when her big brother and his boyfriend are home on thanksgiving break 

and then something happens where holly is home alone while everyone is out at work or doing something else and then things... get really strange.

there’s a faceless monster outside her window, and suddenly all the phones are not working, and the lights are super fucked up, and the last time holly remembers seeing anything this insane was when she was really little? and there was that weird wall at will’s home? or the trees were moving that one fourth of july?

but holly’s stuck. she can’t go outside or get a hold of anyone to help her.

so what does holly do?

she pulls a kevin mcallister.

and holly home alones the fuck out of this demogorgon.

[ladykailitha]

Sweet Home Indiana Part 2

Hello! My elbow was doing better this morning and then I took a nap and hurt it again somehow...(head desk) so I'm still putting out my backlog without being able to build up more because of it, hopefully it gets better before I run out of backlog because that would be embarrassing.

Here we get some backstory as Eddie strolls back into Steve's life.

Pt 1

****

When Robin came into open the store she found Steve wearing the clothes he had been wearing the night before. None of the bread dough was rising, none of the cookies were baking having not even been made, the cakes were out on the cooling racks instead in the freezer to chill enough to have frosting put on them.

He was curled up next to their large stand mixer dubbed the Beast, cradling his sides like he was trying to hold in his innards.

“Steve...” she called out gently.

Steve looked up at her and her heart broke. His eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks tear-stained and blotchy. Snot ran down his nose and pooled on his upper lip.

She sighed and then turned around. She hunted around for a marker and a piece of paper. She wrote that they were closed for the day and hung it up outside the front door. She locked it behind her and went to go sit down next her best friend.

Steve laid his head on her shoulder and sighed.

“Eddie’s getting married.”

Robin had to force herself from jerking her head around to look at him because he needed her support more than he needed her ire in that moment.

“Who do I have to kill?” she muttered darkly, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair soothingly.

Steve barked out a bitter laugh. “She’s this hot shot legal assistant from Barbados. Like I didn’t even know that was a country until I looked it up. It’s in the Caribbean. Did you know that?”

“I did.”

Robin blinked for a minute. “Wait...she?”

Steve just shrugged. “People change, Robs. Don’t make it a thing.”

She bit her lip and worried it between her teeth. Because fucking hell she wanted to make a big deal out of it. Someone should make a big deal out of it.

“Nancy’s back in town visiting her family,” she said instead. “Holly’s graduating next week.”

Steve threw his arms in the air. “Great! I’m being invaded by my ex. Just put me out of my misery now, Robs. I don’t think I can take it.”

Robin smacked his arms. “No. There will be no killing of the Steve. If anyone wants to make it your problem, then they’re going to have a problem with me, got it?”

“Thanks, Robbie,” he murmured, running his fingers through his hair. “Like the way he went about it was such complete shit. Like how dare he think that a simple annulment is going to get him off abandoning me for fame and fortune and then not coming back when it fell through?”

Robin’s head did whip around that time. “He fucking did what?”

Steve sighed and waved at the papers in the trash. She got up and picked them up. She read through them with increasing ire. Her hands started to shake and her face burned with indignation.

“Screw killing her,” she hissed. “I’m going to kill him. Just as soon as I find his scrawny ass. How dare he?”

He huffed out a bitter laugh. “I hunted down his number and called him out on it. I told him if he was so desperate to be free of me he had to tell me to my face.”

“So what you’re telling me...” Robin said slowly, “is that your not just being invaded by one ex, but most likely two exes. And like your two biggest heartbreaks ever?”

Steve got to his feet and lopped over to her. “That about sums it up, yeah. I know you closed the store, but I still have to make Mrs. Laurence’s cake. She’s supposed to pick it up at 3pm.”

She patted him on the shoulder and tossed away the papers. “Let’s make this cake. We can’t disappoint Mrs. Laurence.”

Steve and Robin went through and tossed everything that couldn’t be salvaged. Steve pulled the two chocolate sheet cakes out of the freezer and set them on the decorating table. He went into the walk-in freezer and got out the two large tubs of frosting; one chocolate buttercream and the other vanilla buttercream.

Robin pulled out the food dyes and began mixing the colors they would need for the cake. Steve went and grabbed one final thing from the fridge before closing the door. A raspberry filling.

He got to work starting with a crumb coating and then took the purple colored frosting from Robin and began covering the whole cake. Once it was completely covered he started adding design elements and darker purple flowers.

Then he passed it over to Robin who wrote “Happy 50th Anniversary” on the top.

All in all it had taken about an hour. Then he called up Mrs. Laurence and told her that Robin would be delivering the cake today because the shop was closed. He didn’t explain why and she didn’t ask. Mostly she was just grateful that it was going to be delivered.

Then Steve got to work preparing for tomorrow. Things like cookies and pastries that could stay in the fridge over night were made first. Then he started on the thing he was most famous for: his brownies.

He had four kinds, a triple chocolate that was dark chocolate brownie with milk chocolate frosting and chunks. The second one was a peanut butter marble with fudge drizzled over it and topped with chopped peanuts. The third was a cheesecake and caramel that was super popular with the high school kids. But the most famous, the one every raved about was the mint brownie. It had mint in the brownie itself, mint frosting, and fudge and crumbled brownie bits covering the top.

The Monster as it was fondly called by Steve’s customers could turn even the most fervent of mint haters over to the dark side, it was that good.

Finally everything was ready for tomorrow.

When Robin came back from delivering the cake, she sat down at the decorating table and leaned on her elbows, clasping her hands together.

“When are you going to get some people into help you?” she asked gently. “You know I won’t be here forever and you can’t keep doing it on your own.”

Steve who had just finished cleaning everything up looked up at her with his big puppy dog eyes. “You’re going to leave me?” he asked with a pout.

She slapped at his arm. “You know that I’m heading to college in the fall, just as soon as I pick which one I’m going to. You’ll have all summer to train a couple of people to take my place.”

He sighed. “I know. I’ll think about it after I deal with my exes this week.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I also get to interview these new peeps and make sure they’re good enough.”

“Deal!” he said and they shook hands.

****

Because they were closed the day before Steve had a line of customers lining up on the sidewalk when he turned the closed sign to read “OPEN”.

Robin and he got to work helping all the customers.

It was fine up until Mrs. O’Donnell came in absolutely bitching about how she always gets her bread on Wednesdays and he knows that he should have been open for her. Especially since Mrs. Laurence got her cake, so Steve should have been able to open for her to get her bread.

She had completely bottlenecked the whole line. Robin was working as hard as she could to keep up with demand on her side of the counter, but Steve could see she was starting to falter.

“Enough!” Steve barked and the whole shop went silent. “I had a personal matter come up that couldn’t have been avoided and Mrs. Laurence had paid for her cake well in advance which is why she still got it. And unless you don’t want to get your precious bread ever again, because I have banned you, then you better stop harassing me, get your damn bread, and get the fuck out of my store.”

Mrs. O’Donnell let out a small “eep!” before paying for her bread and leaving quickly. There was a small amount of clapping and Steve grinned.

“Next, please,” he said and the next customer came up.

Things went smoother after that.

Two hours later, the rush had ended and Robin and Steve worked on restocking the shelves.

“You always were a bitch, Steve,” a voice said from the corner on the shop were there were a couple of tables people could use to eat their tasty delights. “But watching you take down that bitch O’Donnell was like poetry in motion.”

Steve stiffened, hands clenching on the tray of brownies he was carrying. He slowly turned around and sure enough in all his black clothes, leather jacket, and many chained glory was Eddie Munson.

He gritted his teeth and slid the tray home in the display case. He pulled the towel off his shoulder and wiped off his hands. “Nice to see you finally got tired of running.”

Eddie got to his feet and moved to step toward the counter when a little bell went off announcing a customer.

In walked this soft round woman with a bright smile. She didn’t even notice Eddie standing there, she just walked right up to Steve.

“Mrs. Laurence!” Steve greeted warmly. “How was the cake yesterday?”

Mrs. Laurence smiled. “It was lovely as always, dear. Nothing but rave reviews from all.”

He smiled at her fondly. “I’m glad. So what can I get you today?”

She tapped her finger on her lips as scanned over the case. “I’ll take a half dozen raspberry truffles and a monster please.”

Steve’s smile turned into a grin. “You’re just in time, I just finished a fresh batch of monsters just before you came in.”

“Lucky me indeed,” she said with a giggle. “They are so much better fresh. Not like your peanut butter ones. They taste better after a day or two to really set the peanut butter.”

Steve laughed as he packed her order. “I always feel like the opposite, give the brownie bites on top time to get chewy and they’re...” he did the chef’s kiss. “But I like how gooey the fresh peanut butter ones are fresh out of the oven.”

Mrs. Laurence laughed too. “Agree to disagree, dear.” She paid and turned around.

“Oh my goodness!” she huffed. “I didn’t even see you there, you must think me rude just jumping the line like that.”

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t think you’ve got a rude bone in your body. Jeffy takes after you that way.”

She tilted her head. “Eddie?”

Eddie nodded mutely, lips pressed into a grim line. She swept him up in a hug.

“My Jeff didn’t say anything about you coming to town,” she admonished her youngest child.

Eddie just shook his head. “It was a last minute decision. Just something I have to take care of.”

She looked back at Steve who had his head tucked to his chin and then back to him. She nodded sagely. “I see. Do take care of yourself, Eddie.”

She wave back at Steve. “Bye, dear. Thank you so much again for the cake yesterday.”

“Of course, Mrs. Laurence, you have a good day,” Steve said softly.

Eddie finally made it to the counter.

“I forget she’s Jeff’s mom,” Steve muttered as he wiped down an already clean counter.

Eddie cleared his throat. “Yeah. Like I forgot he was in town for his parent’s wedding anniversary. I guess time does that to you.”

Steve nodded. “So you’re actually here.”

“So I’m actually here,” he agreed. “But first I want to know what the fuck a monster is?”

Steve’s eyes misted as he pulled out a brownie from the case and set it on a piece of parchment paper.

“It’s called that because it’s big, green, and ugly, but soft and sweet,” he explained like he was reading from a script, refusing to look up at Eddie, “just like the Frankenstein monster from that super old horror movie.”

Eddie looked down at the so-called monstrosity with a wave of affection for the man in front of him. That wasn’t why it was named the monster. The reason it was called that was because that’s what the towns people were calling him before he left for fortune and fame, because he played D&D, like metal music, and was an out and proud gay man. That and the fact that they thought he had killed a bunch of kids with a batch of bad blow.

Which had been bullshit. Considering he had never sold meth or cocaine and didn’t have any on him. So when they tested his hair, his clothes, his uncle’s trailer and couldn’t even find so much a speck of the stuff, let alone the stuff that killed the kids, they let him go.

As far as Eddie was aware they still don’t know who sold them the drugs.

So yeah, Steve made him the brownie when he was at his lowest to tell him how soft and sweet he was despite being called a monster.

Eddie opened his wallet and got out the cash for the brownie and handed it to Steve.

Steve went through the motions of getting him his change. Which Eddie immediately put in their little tip jar.

Steve boxed up the brownie and handed Eddie the box.

Eddie pulled out an envelope out of his messenger bag and handed it to Steve.

Steve sighed and pulled them out. He began to look over them over and had a pen in hand, when he looked up to see Eddie moaning around the brownie.

He clicked the pen and shoved it back in his apron. “I better have my lawyer look over this, after all I’m just dumb, right Eddie?”

Eddie’s eyes widen and he choked down the bite of the brownie. Flashing back to their last major fight.

“God!” he screamed. “How can you be this stupid? Those kids are in high school now, they have their own parents, for fuck’s sake. Where is your ambition? This is just bullshit. You aren’t chained here for fuck’s sake.”

Steve’s face shuttered and the mask he only pulled out when his parents were around dropped over his features. Bland, clueless, and absolutely frightening in its uncanny valley.

That’s when Eddie knew he’d fucked up bad. He had said the three things he swore in his wedding vows he’d never say to Steve. That he had no ambition, that he was stupid, and that he was bullshit.

He turned on his heel and never looked back.

Steve smirked as if he knew what was flashing through his mind and walked away, leaving Eddie standing there with hand near his mouth, the expression of shock still on his frozen features.

****

Part 3

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10- @steddie-as-they-go @captain--low @micheledawn1975

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #10] Blonde

warnings: b is in her bleach era. love that for her!! jaykay is in the chapter for like 1.5 seconds and still manages to be the best thing about it. also if u think wow holly sometimes your chapters end very similarly, uhhh yes. ur right. mainly because my brain is smooth but also because jungkook is a creature of habit! it’s within his character traits! not because im stupid! even if i am!

soundtrack: space - audrey nuna;  blonde - maisie peters

wc: 3.5k

bd total wc: 540k (on-going)

minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist 

You suppose you really shouldn't be surprised when Seokjin leaves you on read. It happens as soon as he escapes the city, just like it always does. 

It's always the same; he'll come back to town for a few days - to visit friends, his family, or maybe for a haircut with the only barber he trusts - then leaves just as quickly as he comes.

The predictability of it all would be funny, you think, but your knees are getting worn out from how many times you fall for it; his charm, his deception, his pretty lips that soothe the burn of his selfish choices. 

He'll be radio silent for a while, and then suddenly, as if he's finally changed the batteries in his walkie-talkie, he won't be. It'll most likely be when he's on his way back to town in a few months time.

The saddest part is that you know you'll want to see him when he does. Will have the burning desire to show him just how well you've been; how well you've coped without him.

Most of all? You'll want him to know just how much you don't need him.

Inevitably, he'll end up in your bed, and you'll end up all in your head - again - overthinking and underestimating just how easy it is for him to drop you. Forgetting just how badly he fucked you up, only for him to remind you in the most callous of ways.

When Danbi comes home on Thursday night - three days since Seokjin's last message - she knows exactly what's happened. You've got a special kind of pout reserved for Seokjin-related upsets. It's always a little soft yet incredibly hard to break.

"You gotta stop letting him in," she says over a glass of red. She hates the taste, but loves the soft buzz in the pit of her stomach. Though she's much better suited to Moscato, Danbi will never turn her nose up at free wine.

If she knew why you were drinking it, she might consider rejecting it.

Seokjin's favourite. You'd bought it on the way home from work. Just couldn't help yourself.

Had figured that at least when you hugged yourself to sleep that evening, your lips would taste like his used to do, on the nights when he'd tell you that you're the most delightful thing he's ever laid his eyes upon. Would be all giggly. Wine drunk. Happy. In love.

But it's been a while since he did that. Feels like a lifetime ago, now. 

You shrug as you let the ruby red liquid swirl in your glass. Fighting against your feelings feels like swimming against the tide.

Always struggling to breathe. Never winning. Failing. Falling. 

"I don't know how to, Dan."

"But you do," she insists.

And she's right. Of course you do. 

His number has never been blocked, but a simple restriction of access to you would solve so many of your problems.

Thing is, you kind of like him still being your problem. At least that way, on a technicality, he's still yours. Kind of.

Every time he comes back to the city, it's still your bed that he ends up in.

Never for the night. Just for an hour or two - but for long enough for you to convince yourself that he can't stay away.

The lies you let your mind whisper are insidious. You're irresistible. He's still just as affected by you as you are by him. He can't possibly leave you.

And yet he does, each and every time.

He doesn't ever let you go. Not fully. Whenever you think you're getting over it, he shows up just to get you under him; his thumb, his spell, his body.

You're halfway through the bottle of wine when Danbi tells you once more that you need to get Seokjin out of your hair.

You've reached the end of it by the time you're grabbing your purse and heading for the closest Olive Young.

It's just down the street, by the crossroads that lead into town, and the staff there have seen you in worse states. A little tipsy has nothing on the mascara-stained eyes they used to be greeted with during the worst days of the breakup.

"Sure about this?" Danbi asks just to check before you take the boxes in your hands to the counter.

"Absolutely not - but he always hated me blonde," you grin a little sardonically. The happiness that comes with this change will be temporary, but you have to remind yourself that so was he. "At least even if I can't resist him, he'll resist me."

Peroxide and perhaps a little fried, your blonde hair had caught his attention in the early days - but you had dyed your hair dark in a bid to keep it. 

He'd said some bullshit in a conversation amongst friends about his preferences, and how he favoured the 'natural look'. You weren't together at the time, not officially - but everyone there was a friend of his. They all knew you'd be going home with him. It only took two boxes of dye to get him asking to be exclusive. A week later he was introducing you to his friends as his girlfriend. 

Funny what a little bit of conformity can do for a man who loves playing by the rules. 

You assume his desire to tick the boxes and do what is expected of him is also why he was such a bellend when it came to the glitter you liked to dust yourself in. 

Nobody's perfect though, so he was willing to overlook it. Was just one of the flaws he perceived in you. When you love someone, you accept them.

He ultimately never grew to love it, but for a while, you thought he might.

Bleach boxes in one hand, another bottle of wine in the other, you waste no time and head straight for the bathroom. Danbi follows you right in. She's always there to lend a hand or at least provide a Spotify playlist to get you through your woes. 

Folding the powder into the developing lotion by the sink, you know your bleach-induced bathroom antics could get you a spot in a Brad Mondo video.

All a little haphazard, you're without a mixing bowl and brush, so are having to use an old takeout container and a plastic spoon, instead.

It's not quite how the instructions suggest you should mix it all up, but no good ever comes from following the rules.

You'd tried for Seokjin, and look where that got you.

Unlike him, trusty Tupperware has never done you dirty before. No reason why it should now. 

Danbi sits on the closed toilet seat, legs crossed, a small bottle of bubbles in her hand. The bubbles had been a Christmas party favour from the office job she'd quit four months ago. Rediscovered when she'd been cleaning her room earlier that day, Danbi had taken to blowing pretty little bubble flurries your way all afternoon. 

Your reflection is captured in the peacock sheen of the bubbles while you study your rapidly developing hair in the mirror. 

You haven't bothered to change out of your shirt. It's not yours. One of Seokjin's. It's navy, and you hope the bleach ruins it.

"I think I've fucked up," you say all rather calmy, talking about your hair and not the shirt. It's not the end of the world if you have. Just hair, you always think.

Danbi shrugs. Has clearly spent too much time in your company, because she echoes exactly what you're thinking: "Just hair, babe. It'll grow."

That's the joy of your friendship; you both encourage each other with the same dumb remarks whenever you feel like you've reached the point of no return. 

After all, if you can't go back? 

Go forward.

"Plus," she adds, blowing more bubbles instead of taking a breath. "You can just chalk it up to being your hot mess era."

"Been in that for months already," you smile at her in the reflection of the mirror. You prod a little at your roots, and know that you definitely should have waited a little longer to work the bleach up to them. Bollocks.

You've done this enough times to know you'll end up with a gold band haloing around the top of your hair thanks to how easily your roots always lift. Nightmare. 

"Exactly, so you may as well look the part," Danbi encourages. Worst influence going, she is. Also the best at times, too. You find comfort in the fact she won't always say what you want to hear, but what you need to hear instead.

The conversation dissolves into empty chatter, gossip about Danbi's dog walking clients, mentions of Taehyung and how he's still trying to talk her into a mates-rates discount despite the fact they aren't actually 'mates'. She asked you about your Bartender That Smiles, and you say he's all good - before you have to insist there's nothing going on there. 

"He's got issues with his ex," you explain.

She rolls her eyes. "Don't they all? Boys and their first loves, I swear to God."

"Not sure she was his first," you defend, though you're not sure why. The thought lingers as you rummage around for an old tube of toner that you know you have hiding in the bathroom cabinet somewhere. It's been a while since your hair was pale enough to take toner, so it's been pushed right to the back.

Danbi is shooed from her perch on the toilet seat and into the living room as you let the shower run to heat it a little.  

The first crash of water against your skin is lukewarm. Tepid. Unappealing, but necessary. 

You hate anything other than boiling-you-alive degrees Celsius, but know you need to be kind to your hair after the torture you've put it through. The water runs cloudy until the bleach is rinsed out, and then it runs purple thanks to your silver shampoo. It pools around your feet and seeps into the drain. Wishful thinking has you hoping memories of Seokjin will do just the same.

It's just to preemptively tone it, but you can't help but worry about the pigment taking too strongly on your roots. 

The ash toner you found in the cupboard is in a box by the sink. You plan on putting that over the top of whatever mess your hair is anyway, but it doesn't hurt to get a head start on the process. 

The water glistens a deep violet, briefly coating your skin - and for some reason, all you can think about is Jeongguk, and how you'd really like to be downing a Purple Starfucker (or five) with him right now. He really is the perfect distraction. 

Still, you have a task at hand. You rinse your hair; ring it out. Sigh as you frown at the mess that greets you in the mirror - lilac roots, a yellow band haloing just like your thought it would, and silver ends. Brilliant.

It's as you're sitting with Danbi in the living room a little while later - body wrapped in a towel that isn't half as fluffy as Jeongguk's favourite, ashy toner smothering your peroxide blonde hair - that you notice your phone flash on the coffee table.

Danbi clocks it first, and stifles a laugh as she reads the screen. "Isn't that the guy from the club?"

You assume she means Jeongguk, and are a little perplexed to see it's Jimin's name on your screen instead. 

"Yeah... Jimin. Smooth talker, shit shagger."

"A glowing review."

"Hey, I still let him think he was good," you say as you reach for your phone to read his message out loud to Danbi. "You guys out tomorrow night?"

Sipping on her wine, Danbi raises a brow. Shakes her head in confusion. "He hoping for round two?"

"Fuck knows."

It's just gone midnight, so you consider maybe he's thinking about his desire for a hook-up, and is hoping for a safe bet in the form of you. 

And so you don't reply. If he double texts, you'll just lie and say you've fallen asleep.

The scent of your toner is beginning to give you a headache, so you go to rinse it and bid farewell to your final day as a brunette.

Sleep evades you. Doesn't want to let go of who you were, apparently. Wine makes you sleepy, and yet you're wired as if you've just had a triple shot americano.

But then it's three in the morning, and all you can seem to smell is the deep conditioner you bathed your hair in that evening. 

Somehow, when you look to the empty space beside you - delicately ruffled, a dent prevailing in the pillow - you convince yourself that you can smell fig leaves and coconut. The notes of his favourite aftershave linger like the ache in your chest. It's hollow, and you can't work out why it hurts quite as much as it does. 

If there's nothing there, how can it be so painful?

You sniff back tears that fail to truly form and pull your phone from beneath your pillow. It's hard to move your fingers when they're tangled up in puppet strings that Seokjin is refusing to let go of, but eventually you manage to tap through some Instagram stories in a bid to distract yourself from him. 

Inspirational quotes don't do much for you, nor do the engagement pictures of people you haven't given a second thought since graduation. There's an abundance of them. Smiling faces. Diamonds, or maybe just cubic zirconia. Fresh sets of nails, hands that are pink and warm from the heat of whoever's been holding them.

It's a curious thought; what people who haven't spoken to you in years must think of you now. 

You were the one who was going to succeed. Going far in life, made for a boardroom, would look incredible in a pantsuit - and yet you're working in a cafe, first-class degree of no more worth than the tissue paper you flush down the toilet. 

See, you switched out life goals for glitter. You wear it like armour; protect yourself from the world around you. Who cares about seriousness and success when you're a constant disco? Not you. Could never be you.

Or at least, you hope that's what people think. Hope that no one realises you're covering yourself in artificial shine; like a canvas in acrylic because you were too impatient to watch the oil paint dry.

One day you'll glow. Glow for real. 

For a while, you thought you had been with Seokjin. 

All you see when you look in the mirror these days is tarnished silver; copper alloy pretending to be much more than what it really is. Your skin will turn green eventually.

There is, however, one person you've managed to fool. 

When his story pops up - a repost of tomorrow night's paint party event at Dionysus - you find yourself clicking through to your DM thread without much thought. You know he's at work. Know it's a 50/50 whether or not he'll get back to you before your mind begins to berate you again for how miserable you feel. 

It's a simple message - hey - and you're pleased that it's met with an equally simple reply not even a minute later.

JustJK: To what do I owe the pleasure?

You decided that 'I'm about to cry over my shitbag ex so chose to message you instead' probably won't be Jeongguk's favourite thing to hear, so you opt for a little white lie.

You: Just wondering how the kids are <3

Part of you worries he won't understand what the fuck you're on about - but of course, he does. He's Jeongguk. Gets you better than you get yourself, these days.

JustJK:  Missing their mother. 

JustJK:  Perry the Pigeon almost fell earlier.

JustJK:  Roger the Robin looks like he has a broken wing.

JustJK: Must be one of yours. Inherited his mother's wonkiness <3

With each message that comes through, your smile grows wider in the midnight darkness of your bedroom. 

You: Careful or I'll file for joint custody.

You: Get poor Roger away from his father's cruel remarks </3

There's an ease to how you joke together, both aware of how unserious you are. There's no second-guessing, no worrying about saying the wrong thing. If you do, you'll say sorry and move on. No harm, no foul.

JustJK: Your appeal won't hold up in court, Byeol.

JustJK:  You've neglected them ever since you spawned them.

JustJK:  Haven't even paid them a visit!!!

Laughter stifles in your throat as your body curls up into a more comfortable position. The audacity of this boy, you think, ignoring the way he manages to get you entirely focused on something that isn't your own despair.

You:  You've got full custody!!!

JustJK:  And you're still allowed to come for supervised visits!!!!!

JustJK:  smh and to think you call yourself their mother.

JustJK: I'm their mother now.

You pout at your screen, and whine a small little 'nooo'. 

You:  They need me :(

JustJK: Come and see them, then. They miss their mother.

You:  Tomorrow?

He reads the messages instantly, but takes a little longer than usual to reply. It worries you slightly. Makes you more aware of your surroundings. The scent of Seokjin's aftershave begins to permeate the air once more.

Until, all rather suddenly, it doesn't anymore.

JustJK:  I'm not working tomorrow night, but Jimin's insisting on going to the paint party - you coming?

You:  Will Perry the Pigeon be there?

JustJK: If he falls before I leave for the club, then yes.

It's not a bad proposition. One that quite intrigues you. One that has you agreeing, and him telling you to fuck off and go to sleep. He's got work to do, he says. 

It's actually quite quiet at the club - Yeonjun just caught him looking at his phone with a dumb smile a few too many times for Jeongguk's liking. Doesn't wanna get caught out again. 

Especially doesn't want him catching onto the fact that there's a reason Jeongguk's eyes light up like Disco Balls when he looks at his phone.

Yeonjun doesn't really have friends who are girls, Jeongguk reasons with himself. Won't understand that he's perfectly capable of having a little flirt without it meaning anything more than that - after all, isn't that just what banter is? Friendly flirting? He does it with the boys all the time. Doesn't mean fuck all. Just fun.

Jeongguk's a couple of years older than his cerulean-haired coworker, and has learnt the hard way that you really shouldn't escalate friends above the level of purely platonic. One day Yeonjun will realise this. 

For now, though, Yeonjun'll shag anyone who looks at him in the right direction. Has probably already ruined a few good friendships. Doesn't even realise he's done it.

Jeongguk trusts himself not to make the same mistakes he's made in the past with you. Thinks that he's pretty happy with how things are. Has missed the dynamics of friendships with girls. Is looking forward to Monday movie night with you and Danbi again.

And yet when he gets home to find Perry the paper pigeon on his bed, he can't help but smile.

You wake up to a picture of the fallen bird in your DMs - and even though you'll whine and complain about it when you see him that evening, all you can do is smile, too.

JustJK:  Looks like we're having a wholesome family trip to Dionysus tonight.

You: Mummy and Daddy reunited at last <33 Perry will be so happy.

JustJK: It's okay, you don't have to lie.

JustJK:  I know you're talking about yourself, not Perry.

Jeongguk doesn't send the message where he tells you not to call him Daddy. Knows you'll read into it; tease him about it. It's not like he's got a thing for it, or anything, he just... maybe wouldn't be opposed to it, and so he'd rather not be called it when he's having casual conversations with you. Wouldn't wanna get flustered. 

Part of you already knows this. Is precisely why you'd said it. It's not really your style, not the kind of thing that gets you going.

But it is also exactly why you choose to end your next message with, 'See you tonight, Daddy x'.

You're laughing as you send it.

And as he receives it, Jeongguk groans. Buries his head into his pillow. Crumples Perry a little in the process. Whines. 

"Don't fuck this up, Jeongguk."

AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT

[redcoralpot]

Smudged (4)

Rodrick Heffley x FTM Punk Reader

Warnings: NSFW joke and mentions of homophobia

Summary: The idea was bull, but it was worth a shot, you supposed. That is, if Rodrick can stay focused.

-

“I need you to do a favor for me,” Rodrick kicked his foot against the asphalt.

You could still hear the joyful chatter of children reuniting with their parents in the background, cars speeding past you, causing strands of hair to come loose, “No.”

“No? What do you mean no?”

“I’ve heard enough from Heather.”

His eyes snapped towards you, wide and attentive, for once, “What’d she say?”

“Obviously not something positive.”

Rodrick shrugged, his attitude uncaring once again. You huffed and turned away, fully planning on leaving him alone on that sidewalk. However, you only were able to take a few steps forward before a hand roughly grabbed at your back. Cursing under your breath, you whirled around to face the boy, squinting.

“Hey, hey, I’m being serious. I need your help, here, dude.”

“You could’ve fooled me;” you rolled your eyes, but didn’t remove his hand, “I won’t do your homework for you. Leave that in middle school, with Greg.”

Rodrick’s hand slid down your arm before he pulled it to his chest, “Actually– fuck, nevermind. Okay, that won’t work on you, but you’re a valuable resource with this!”

“And how is that?”

Instead of answering, he took a step closer, and waved a slip of paper in your face. You flinched back, allowing it to fall from his fingertips into your open palm. Rodrick was silent, snickering, and tapping his foot as he gleefully watched you crack it apart. Inside were printed words; his project slip, awfully crumpled. Two words, three if you count the category. Music; punk subculture.

He smirked, “It’s a research project. What better way than to talk to the only punk guy in town?”

“If you’re so sure, then what about the collaboration rule?”

“C’mon, nobody’ll ever know!” You could’ve sworn he almost whined, moving back.

You said, “I won’t fail ‘cause you’re reckless; I’m sure there’s another punk guy somewhere.”

Rodrick made a face, “There’s none that I know.”

“That’s too bad for you, then,” you replied. Kicking a rock towards him, you backed up, towards the road. He huffed, taking steps forward as much as you moved away. You could tell that he was getting desperate for your help.

“How about a trade? I help with yours, you help with mine!”

You paused, causing the drummer to smack face first into you, knocking your foreheads together. The two of you hissed, with Rodrick rubbing the wounded spot with a scrunched up, pained face. When he finally let his hand fall away, you could see an angry red spot in its place, and yours probably did not look much better.

“I’ll think about it.”

He snickered, hitting your arm, “Hah, think.”

“Heather was right, you’re a cornball.”

“Fuck you,” he groaned.

You shook your head in response to his complaints, “Deal with it, Heffley. I have your number, I can harass you with it all day.”

A small boy, about Holly’s height, if not shorter, appeared in the distance. He was running towards the both of you fast– well, as fast as a middle schooler can go on those little legs. Beside him, a chubbier, ginger child was struggling to keep up as his counterpart shouted, bringing his hands up to his mouth. Rodrick grew tenser, a kind of grumpier expression clouding his features. Ah, that would be Greg. Chuckling, you made the decision to instead flee the scene, not wanting to be a part of their petty sibling rivalry.

“What do you want, turd?” Rodrick sneered, gesturing beside him, “I was in the middle of something.”

“You promised you’d take Rowley and I home!”

“That means you have to be–” He took in the blank spot where you once were, “...patient.” “I’m gonna kill you the next time Mom’s not home, literally kill you!”

-

You fished your flip phone out of your pocket, slouching on your pillows with your socks only half-off. When the list of conversations popped up on the small, bright screen, you paused. Were you seriously contemplating this? Directly going against the rules to work with Rodrick of all people; you might as well have cheated with Daniel and that would have been a better idea. However– you shifted in your bed, kicking your socks across the room– Daniel knows nothing about drums. In fact, he talks about flutes more than any other instrument, as girly as his father calls it. Rodrick was better at it than anyone else in this shitty little town, so how bad could it truly be?

Against your better judgment, you typed in the number pattern printed on the invitation slip into a new contact, naming it accordingly. You held your breath, typing your very first message; “This is Heather’s brother.”

Your phone was smashed into your sheets and you hugged your pillow to your chest, peeking over at the device. It took a few moments, minutes really, before it vibrated against the cloth. Yet, you didn’t reach for it at first. This was your last chance, your last chance to refuse this and possibly not ruin your entire senior record, and so you hesitated. Curiosity got the better of you, though. “Trade or no trade?” 

Taking a deep breath, you responded, “Trade. Come to my house.”

Heather would be so mad at you for this, you thought as you set aside your phone to the side and hopped up. Most of the time would be spent in your room, and you would hate for it to be as messy as it is now when a guest is over, despite the fact that Rodrick seemed to lack standards for hygiene. Perhaps he only showered once a week, if you were lucky. Regardless, you half-heartedly made your bed and dumped a few garments of clothes that had littered your carpet down a hamper, hidden in your closet. Your violin and electric guitar were both leaning carefully on your wall, safe from harm in their cases. Your desk was scattered with markers, laces, and patches that you had neglected sewing onto your jacket. It wouldn’t hurt to stack them neatly, you reasoned.

Your room still had a certain chaos to it despite your efforts, and really, you weren’t looking to fix it. It had personality, it reflected you, just as Heather’s more tidy space reflected her personality. Books lined the shelves underneath your desk; one that you didn’t spend too much money on. A door, glass, a mat, and two near-height shelves as support gave you one easily; you refused to let your mother buy you a “proper” desk. The works were mostly fiction or topics regarding punk history, so you selected a spare few that you did not care too much about in order to lend them to Rodrick.

About ten minutes in, halfway through the time you expected Rodrick to arrive, you freshened up your makeup in the bathroom mirror, paying extra attention to your eyeliner. Just to one up the guy. You smudged it with your pointer finger, before lining your waterline with a matching black. Even so, you almost poked your eye as you were finishing the right side of your face when you heard a clang!

A faint, “Uh– shit, my fault.”

You lifted the lace curtains with a non-blackened finger to peer outside, only to be greeted by the sight of the devil’s gleaming white van, a fresh dent in the front. An angelic statue that had decorated your family’s driveway was now laying on the ground; a puzzled Rodrick above it. A sigh forced itself from your throat. Your eyes followed his figure as he awkwardly tried fixing the abused statue, before sauntering up to the door with a fist raised. It didn’t take long to bound downstairs and open the front door before he abused that, too.

“We have a doorbell, you know?” you stated, unimpressed, “Come in.”

He whistled a short tune as he took in the rooms around him, “So this is Heather’s house. I was starting to think I’d never get to see it!”

“You aren’t here to see Heather, you’re here for research. Don’t talk to her, don’t listen to her, and don’t even look at her; she’ll choke you out and then me.”

Rodrick bent his head in order to see through the crack in her bedroom doorway, but you took a hold of his ear and pulled him away; “Okay, okay, fuck!”

You dragged him through your own door, where you shut it and finally released the drummer to let him take in his surroundings. Pushing him forward slightly with the back of your elbow, you lean on your bed, taking a good look at him. He flicked his eyes towards you– probably scared you were going to rip his ear off if he moved. A humorous expression to see on such an arrogant guy, sure, but you stayed put, watching him. Rodrick must have taken that as a thumbs up, as he was immediately attracted to your desk. He chose to shuffle through your pins first.

“Woah, you made these?”

“No.”

He read the miniature printed names, “Do they mean anything?”

“They’re bands.”

“Well, yeah, I totally recognized them.” He made a show of pointing out his eye makeup.

“Sure–”

He interrupted you, something seemingly catching his eye, “Wait, is that a…”

“Ah, crap, I thought it was something else.” It was a magazine, something you didn’t care enough about to hide away, and he seemed to snicker about it, “If it was, it’d be full of girls.”

You looked over his shoulders, before snatching it out of his hands, much to his offense, “I’m not into that kind of stuff.”

“You sure? I have one you can borrow if you really need it!”

“You’re weird,” you huff, throwing a small book at him.

“Positive?”

“Get to work.”

Rodrick finally sat on your bed, overly casual. You plopped the pile that contained your collection of punk media in his lap, much to his dismay. Christ, if this was still just some big scheme to get his dick wet, you swore you would stuff a leaf in his mouth.

The first book was all about the origins and meaning of such a subculture; the most important subject for his research. You had hoped he valued that, but as he squinted at the text, his eyebrows pushed together.

He tossed it back into your lap, and you threw it back, like some sort of cursed hot potato, “Dude, I don’t know some of those words!”

“How have you gotten to senior year like this?”

“Can’t you just summarize it?” It landed between your legs, to which you looked at him unimpressed.

Rodrick seemed put off by this, looking down at your lap and back up, “Uh, do you have anything to take notes with?”

“...No.”

“Jesus Christ, take a pen off my desk; take the whole book, why don’t you!”

“That’s fine with me.”

You cursed under your breath, even praying to whatever deity was out there to smite the boy in front of you with all their might. You flipped a page, to the first chapter, sneaking a glimpse at him from behind your eyelashes. Rodrick’s foot was wagging back and forth from its position under his left thigh, not even aware of your dilemma. Or he could be painfully aware of it, and just wanted to push more of your buttons by acting innocent. Yeah, that sounds more like him, you thought as you cleared your throat.

“Punk style started gaining headway, aka popularity, in the mid-‘70s in America, with the UK catching the spark a little later on.”

He sneered, “Hah, caught the spark.”

“Knowing that you know enough about history to make a nerd joke horrifies me.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday,” he huffed.

“Sure,” you continued, “anyway, music was a huge part of this new era, but not the only thing included in it.”

Rodrick said, “I can see that.”

“It had fashion, dance, even a mindset to it.”

Glancing at your boots, currently collecting dust in the closet, you searched your mind for items you personally knew were iconic. He had seen you in your clothes, but based on his earlier comments, Rodrick knew next to nothing about the articles. He did not need to know the very deep parts of punk fashion, not for that project. Truth be told, you honestly didn’t want him to know the codes and such related to more personal matters. That knowledge was only for people who would understand, and you lacked that faith with Rodrick.

“You’ve seen me in my boots, leather jacket, and such, yeah?”

“Duh. That sparkly belt, too.” The drummer tapped his temple.

“It’s spiked.”

He shrugged, “Potato, patata–”

Rodrick was thankfully interrupted by a muffled shout from your mother, who slammed the front door shut, “I brought home dinner!”

“Fuck, yeah, I’m hungry,” he cheered, hopping off the bed and down the stairs before you had the opportunity to tackle him.

“Ah, crap.”

Heather peeked out of her bedroom, slowly turning to look at you with a withering look in her eyes. Your shoulders sagged as you saw a snarl take its form on her lips; defeat.

-

[harringtonstilinski]

Always The Babysitter - Chapter Two: The Weirdo on Maple Street

Author:@harringtonstilinski​ Characters: Steve Harrington x Olivia Henderson(OC) (eventually) Word Count: 5,003 Warnings: lil’ bit of angst, lil’ bit of fluff, flashback Smut: no | yes; A/N: Hi, friends! We got a small flashback in this chapter! It's going to be italicized. If you like this chapter, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

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season masterlist

series masterlist

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The boys and I brought this scared, soaked girl back to the Wheeler’s basement without Mr. or Mrs. Wheeler knowing. Score One.

I watched as this little girl breathed so heavily that I thought I’d have to give her a brown paper bag to breathe in. I was sitting next to her, arm wrapped around her shoulders. We had to convince her that I wasn’t a bad person and that she was in good hands with us, especially me. 

The boys looked at me, expectantly. I rolled my eyes and looked at her profile, beginning my questioning. “Sweetie, is there a number we can call for your parents?”

She looked at me, fear in her eyes.

Dustin then asked the dumbest questions alive, “Where’s your hair? Do you have cancer?”

“Dustin!” I scolded.

“Did you run away?” Lucas asked.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Mike asked.

“Is that blood?”

“Boys!” I exclaimed, quietly. “You’re freaking her out!”

“She’s freaking me out!”

“Lucas!”

“I bet she’s deaf,” Dustin piped up. He looked at her and clapped her in her face, causing her and I to jump back. “Not deaf.”

“Oh, my god, you’re so fucking stupid,” I sighed. “Boys, that’s enough. She’s just scared and cold. Mike, do you have anything she can borrow? Clothing wise?”

He turned around and went to the basket that was perched on top of the dryer, bringing back some of his dad’s sweatpants and a sweatshirt. As he did this, thunder clapped, making this scared little girl jump and close her eyes. I held her tightly, but gently, quietly telling her that it was going to be alright.

Handing the clothes to her, Mike said, “These are clean, okay?”

She took them from his hands, brushing the soft fabric on her face. She set them down on my lap, looking me in the eyes before brushing off my jacket that I had given her and standing, reaching for the hem of her shirt.

The boys started to exclaim their no’s as I jumped up, placing my hands on her shoulders. “There’s a bathroom right over there,” I said, her and I locking eyes. “I’ll walk you over there and you change into these, okay? I’ll stand right outside the bathroom door, okay?”

She nodded before I walked her over to the bathroom, closing the door behind her when she gave me a curt nod. She quickly opened it, though, the fear very much evident in her eyes. “No.”

I smiled and quietly said, “She speaks. How about this; we leave it cracked and I’ll turn my back so that the boys don’t see, okay? I’ll still be standing right here. When you’re done changing, just reach through and tap me on the shoulder to let me know you’re done. Sound good?” I smiled at her to show her that I wasn’t dangerous and that she could trust me.

“Yes,” she said.

“Okay,” I whispered, smiling softly. I pulled the door until there was a decent sized opening before I turned around, seeing the boys eyeing me. 

“This is mental,” Dustin said. 

“At least she can talk,” I said.

“She said no and yes,” Lucas said. “Mike’s three year old sister can say more.”

“Yes, I’m aware that Holly can say more, but we don’t know what she’s been through or where she came from,” I retorted.

“Liv, she tried to get naked,” Dustin said.

“Maybe she doesn’t know any better,” I suggested.

“There’s something seriously wrong with her,” Lucas said. “Like, wrong in the head.”

“She just went like–” Dustin said, demonstrating the girl almost taking her shirt off… while knocking his own hat off his head.

“I bet she escaped from Pennhurst.”

“Oh, my god, Lucas,” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“From where?” Mike asked.

“The nuthouse in Kerley County,” Lucas said.

Dustin and I looked at each other before we both looked back at Lucas and said, “Got a lot of family there?”

“Bite me. Seriously, though, think about it. That would explain her shaved hair and why she’s so crazy.”

“Why she went like–” Dustin, again, did the motion of her almost taking off her shirt.

“She’s an escapee is the point,” Lucas went on. “She’s probably a psycho.”

“Oh, bite me, Lucas,” I said, irritated at this point.

“We should’ve never brought her here!”

“So, you just wanted to leave her out in that storm?” I asked, arms crossed. 

Looking at me, Lucas said, “Yes! We went out to find Will, not another problem.”

“I think we should tell Mike’s mom,” Dustin said.

“I second that.”

“Who’s the crazy one now?” I exclaimed.

“How is that crazy?”

“Because I promised Hopper that you three wouldn’t go out tonight,” I explained. 

“So?” Lucas asked.

“So, if you tell Mrs. Wheeler, guess who gets in trouble with the police again? Me. Olivia Frances Henderson. I can’t do that to my mom. Not again. Plus, our homes will become Alcatraz, and you three will never find Will again. So, here’s the plan…” I thought for a moment about the best possible outcome. “Mike, can she stay here tonight?”

He looked at me and nodded in agreement, adding, “In the morning, she sneaks around my house, goes to the front door and rings my doorbell. My mom will answer and know exactly what to do. She’ll send her back to Pennhurst or wherever she comes from. We’ll be totally in the clear! And tomorrow night, we go back out. And this time, we find Will.”

I looked at Mike like that was the dumbest thing I’d ever heard before I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around, seeing the girl and smiling a bit. “All done?”

She nodded, handing me the wet yellow shirt she was wearing before. I put it on the washer, fully intending on grabbing it to take home with me. I knew for a fact that my mom would ask questions, but I would just make up some lie on how I got the shirt and know that she’d believe me.

I helped Mike set up camp for her before I turned around and started heading up the stairs with Lucas and Dustin, fully intending on taking them back home before we all stopped and watched Mike with the girl for a moment.

“You really think she’s psycho?” Dustin asked.

“She seems really sweet,” I said. “She’s like the sister I’ve always wanted.”

“Wouldn’t want her in my house,” Lucas said, continuing his journey up the basement stairs. 

Dustin sighed before looking at me, saying, “Mental.”

“Shut up,” I said, pushing him up the stairs. I looked back at Mike, quickly asking him to keep me updated on her. I was really worried that something or someone bad was after her.

I wanted to protect her as much as I could. And I was going to try my hardest to make sure that she was safe.

~~~

“Dustin, have you talked to Mike this morning?” I asked, standing in the doorway of his bedroom, hands on either side of the door frame.

He looked at me, backpack in hand and shook his head. “No. I’ll ask him at school, though.” He almost looked sad.

I tapped on the doorframe, lips scrunched to the side. “Okay.” I took two steps away before going back to my original spot. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

Dustin nodded his head, looking down. “I know.”

Walking into his room, I scrunched my brows. “What’s wrong?”

Looking back up, our eyes met and the sadness I thought I saw before was evident. “Do you really wish you had a sister instead of a brother?”

I took a deep breath, pulling him into a hug. “No. I don't. I mean, a little sister would've been nice, but I love that I have you. I wouldn’t have it any other way. We’ve been through hell and back together.”

He hugged me back, tightly. “I love you, Liv.”

“Love you, too, Dusty.”

“Livvie! Phone!”

I sighed, pulling back from the hug. “One of these days, I’m really gonna give her a piece of my mind with that nickname.”

Dustin chuckled as I walked into my room, picking up the phone. “Yeah?”

“Can you help me study before Kimensky’s test this morning? I know you passed her class last year.”

I sighed into the receiver. “Yeah, sure. I’m leaving here in just a few minutes. Meet me by the front doors.”

“You’re the best,” Nancy smiled. I could hear it on her end of the line.

“I know,” I said, hanging up the phone. “Dustin! We have to leave!”

~~~

I met Nancy as promised at the front of the school, spotting her notecards in her hand. Barb met up with us as I took the cards from Nancy’s hand. We walked into the school as I read the cards aloud. “When alpha particles go through gold foil, they become..?” I flipped the card over, looking at the answer on the back.

“Unoccupied space,” Nancy answered.

“Very good,” I said. “A molecule that can–” I was very rudely interrupted by Steve snatching the cards from my hands. “Steven!”

“I think she’s studied enough,” Steve said, looking at the cards.

“Unlike you, she wants to pass,” I retorted.

“I passed,” he said. “With a C-minus.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

“Well, she’s got this. She doesn’t need to worry. Now, on to more important matters.”

“And what the hell could be more important than a Chem test?” I asked.

“My dad has left town on a conference and Mom has gone with him ‘cause you know she doesn’t trust him,” Steve explained.

“Good call,” Tommy H. said. 

“Shut up, Tommy,” I said.

“Make me, Henderson.”

I lurched forward at him, Steve stopping me before I could reach him.

“Listen,” Steve said, looking me dead in the face before looking at Nancy. “So, are you in?”

“In for what?” she asked.

“No parents? Big house?” Carol said.

I looked at her and sarcastically said, “Oh! You mean a party!”

“Ding, ding, ding!”

I guess Steve knew by the look on my face that I wanted to launch myself at her because he said quietly, “Liv, stop.”

“It’s Tuesday,” Nancy said.

“It’s Tuesday,” Tommy mocked.

“Stuff it, zitface,” I warned.

“Come on,” Steve said. “It’ll be lowkey. It’ll just be us. What do you say? Are you in or are you out?” He looked at me, asking the same thing with his eyes.

I looked over at Nancy, watching her think it over before I looked at Barb, who looked quite uncomfortable before Carol piped up, saying something about “Look,” with her eyes casted in front of her.

Nancy, Barbra and I looked behind us and what I saw broke my heart. 

“Oh, that’s depressing,” Steve said. 

I looked at him with his hands on his hips and shoved his arm. “Shut up, Steve.” Looking back at Jonathan Byers, Will’s older brother, we all watched as he pinned something to the corkboard. 

“Should we say something, Liv?” Nancy asked.

The three of us were all mutual friends because of our little brothers being friends.

“I don’t think he speaks,” Carol said.

“How much you wanna bet he killed him?” Tommy asked.

“Shut up,” Steve whispered.

I looked at Steve before walking over to Jonathan, not realizing Nancy followed behind me. “Hey, Byers.”

Jonathan looked at me then Nancy, saying, “Oh, hey.”

Feeling Nance behind me, I turned and looked at her for a moment before saying, “We just wanted to say that we’re sorry about everything.”

When Jonathan looked over our heads at the group behind us, I turned and looked at them, seeing that they all four looked very disinterested in the event that was unfolding.

“Everyone’s thinking about you,” Nancy said. 

I looked at her, brows scrunched and eyes narrowed a tiny bit.

“It sucks,” she continued.

“Yeah,” Jonathan said.

After a couple seconds, Nancy said, “I’m sure he’s fine.”

That’s when I looked at her incredulously. 

“He’s a smart kid.” When the bell rang, she looked almost relieved. “I have to go. Chemistry test.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan smiled.

After she said her good luck, and he said his thanks, I looked at him and whispered, “I’ll do whatever it takes to help you and your mom find him. I won’t sleep or eat until he’s safe in Hawkins again.”

Jonathan smiled and said his thanks before walking out of the front doors to the school.

I stood there for a moment before hearing my name being called by Steve, a mocking of my name being followed by his two henchmen. Rolling my eyes, I turned and walked towards the group, shouldering Tommy H before walking straight to class as the PA system came on overhead with an announcement.

“Attention, faculty and students. At 8pm tonight, there will be an assembly on the football field in support of Will Byers and his family. All are encouraged to attend. Volunteer sign-ups for search parties are still available in the front office.”

~~~

“Slow down!” I yelled, pedaling as fast as I could behind Dustin and Lucas. They said I needed to follow them to Mike’s house and it was pertaining to the girl we’d found in the woods the night prior.

Once we got off the bikes, we rushed upstairs to Mike’s room, where I slowly closed the door behind the boys and I. “Mike, what is this about?” I asked, walking around my brother and the Sinclair boy.

“Are you out of your mind?” Lucas asked.

“Just listen to me,” Mike said.

Lucas repeated himself before Mike said that she knew about Will.

“Wait, back this train up,” I said. I looked at the girl, who Mike told me is named El, which was short for Eleven. Squatting in front of her, I looked her dead in the eyes and asked, “You know about Will Byers? Their friend that went missing a couple of nights ago?”

A picture was placed in front of my face, obstructing my view of El. “She pointed at him,” Mike said. “She knew he was missing, I could tell.”

“You could tell?” Lucas and I asked, me on the more gentle side.

“Just think about it,” Mike continued. “You really think it was a coincidence that we found her on Mirkwood?”

“The same place where Will disappeared?” I wondered.

“And she said that bad people are after her.”

I looked back at her, one of my intuitions being correct. Looking back at Mike and standing back on my feet, I asked, “Do you think these bad people could’ve taken Will?”

Mike nodded at me. “I think she knows what happened to him.”

Arms crossed over his chest, Lucas inquired, “Then why doesn’t she tell us?” before walking over towards El, asking, “Do you know where he is?” Putting his hands on her shoulders, he exclaimed, “Do you know where Will is?!”

“Lucas, that’s enough!” I said, pulling him off of her. “She’s already scared enough as it is!”

“She should be scared!” Lucas said, looking at me. Putting his sights back on El, he said, “If you know where he is, tell us!” Not waiting for her to answer, if she even wanted to answer, Lucas turned around back to Mike and said, “This is nuts. We have to take her to your mom.”

“No!” Mike said. “Eleven said telling any adult would put us in danger.”

“What kind of danger?” Dustin asked, a little bit of fear in his voice.

“Her name is Eleven?” Lucas asked.

“El for short,” Mike answered.

“Mike, what kind of danger?” Dustin asked again, more urgency in his voice.

“Danger danger.” He put two fingers out with his thumb up, imitating a gun, putting it to Dustin’s forehead before moving his hand to Lucas, who smacked his hand away.

“No, no, no,” Lucas said. “We’re going back to Plan A. We’re telling your mom.” He moved to the door, opening it before it magically closed again. He did this a couple more times before the door locked, and we all looked over to El, who had a stream of blood coming from her nose.

“No,” she said.

“Oh my damn,” I whispered.

~~~

How I ended up back at the Wheeler’s dinner table will forever be a mystery to me because I don’t even know how I ended up here. What was even more of a mystery was how I ended up sitting next to Nancy with her looking at me expectantly.

“Something wrong with the meatloaf?” Mrs. Wheeler asked.

“Oh, no,” Dustin said. “I had two bologna sandwiches for lunch.” Placing my palm to my forehead, I whispered, “Oh, my god.”

“It’s delicious, Mommy,” Nancy said.

I snickered at that because hearing Nancy call her mom Mommy was quite hilarious, considering what she and I were about to do next.

“Thank you, sweetie,” Mrs. Wheeler said.

Nancy and I locked eyes for a moment, hers telling me to say something about leaving. I cleared my throat, ready to begin my explanation. “Mrs. Wheeler, there’s a special assembly thing tonight for Will at the school field. I’ll be driving–”

“Why am I just hearing about this?” she asked, more so at Nancy.

“I thought you knew,” Nancy said.

“I told you, I don’t want you out after dark until Will is found.” “I know, I know, but it'll be super weird if we’re not there. I mean, everyone’s going.”

Mrs. Wheeler sighed and looked at me. “Just make sure she’s back by 10. Why not take the boys, too?”

Sounds of disagreements came from said boys, causing Nancy and myself to look at them, although I’m the only one that knows why.

“Don’t you think you should be there? For Will?”

Mike almost choked on his milk, which caused Dustin to bang on the table. I looked over Mrs. Wheeler’s head to see what caused Mike’s reaction. El.

“Sorry,” Dustin said. “Spasm.”

“Nance, ready to go?” I asked.

~~~

As I sat in the driver’s seat of my mom’s car, I looked at Steve’s front door after Nancy had asked me to pull the car over. I really wish I was at home, reading a good book… or watching some show with my Mom.

“What are we doing here?” Barb asked, leaning forward from the backseat. “Liv, can you take me to the field?”

“You promised that you’d go,” Nancy said, shutting down Barb’s question. “We’re gonna have a great time.” “He just wants to get in your pants.”

I looked down at my lap at Barb’s words, knowing that it was partially true. Ever since Steve became King of Hawkins High, he's had a number of conquests. 

“No, he doesn’t,” Nancy giggled.

“Nance,” Barb and I said. “Seriously.”

“He invited you to his house,” Barb added. She tapped me on the shoulder, asking me to convince Nancy to have me turn around.

I sighed, and looked at Nancy. “Look, his parents aren’t home. I know you’re not this stupid.”

“Tommy H. and Carol are gonna be there,” Nancy countered.

I turned to face her a little more, my hand on the steering wheel. “You’re gonna trust those two horny ass losers? They’ve been having sex since, like, the 7th grade! It’s always an orgy with them.”

“Which is why I want you there, Liv! You can be my guardian angel,” she smiled.

“Before or after I beat the hell outta Carol?”

Nancy chuckled at that. “No. Just make sure I don’t get drunk and do anything stupid.” She took off her shirt, and I couldn’t help notice a new piece of clothing on her.

I looked back at Barb, who was already eyeing me. We both looked back at Nancy, asking, “Is that a new bra?”

“No.” 

I rolled my eyes, taking the keys out of the ignition. “Let’s go.”

The three of us got out of the car, and started walking up to Steve’s house. Seeing those two red doors brought back a floodgate of memories that I had forgotten about. There was the time in seventh grade when my dad packed up and left.

“Robert?” Mom called. “Robert, what are you doing?”

I poked my head out of my room, hearing my dad packing things up. I walked into the hallway to get a better listen, and that’s when I heard my dad sigh. 

“I can’t keep doing this, Claudia,” he said. “The kids, this house, living here in Hawkins. I can’t keep doing this.”

“What about the kids?” mom asked. “What’s wrong with the kids?”

“Olivia is constantly in trouble, Dustin’s condition! It’s too much for one guy to handle.”

“That’s why we work together, Robert. We’re a team.”

I ducked behind a table in the hallway at seeing my dad exit his bedroom. “We stopped being a team the moment Olivia started sneaking out.”

Seeing my mom in the hallway now, tears started to spring in my eyes. “Are you saying all of this is Olivia’s fault? That’s why you’re leaving?”

“Mews, go away,” I whispered, feeling the small kitten stand on my leg.

“She’s exactly why I’m leaving,” dad said. “I can’t keep leaving in the middle of work to pick her up from the station. It’s too much.”

I didn’t want to hear anything else as I stood up and quietly made my way to the kitchen, knowing that neither parent would see me in there from the front door. Once my dad left, I ran back to my room to open my window before grabbing a jacket.

I made my way to Steve’s house, going right to his front door. I knew where the spare key was and I also knew that he’d be up. Unlocking the door, I wiped a tear from my cheek. 

When the door opened before me, Steve and I locked eyes before he pulled me into a hug. He led me to his bedroom, where I explained what happened with my parents.

“It’s not your fault,” Steve whispered. “He’s not leaving because of you. He’s making it seem like it because he’s wanting to make you the target for all his problems.”

“But me getting in trouble isn’t helping,” I quietly sobbed.

“Probably not,” he said. “But your dad’s an asshole anyway. Don’t listen to him.” I sniffled before looking into his chocolate eyes. “I need to be back before my mom notices I’m gone.”

“Sleep here. You can sneak out before my parents wake up.”

I was shaking out of my memories when the doors opened, Steve standing on the other side. “Hello, ladies.”

~~~

Making my way outside, I found a cigarette and a beer can, picking both of them up. “Thank god for beer,” I said, cracking it open before chugging the whole can.

Everyone else came back outside, Steve with a knife in his hand. I watched as he picked up a beer can, a small smile making its way onto my face. I picked up another can, handing it out to him. “Shotgun race?”

“You’re on,” he smiled, poking a hole into the bottom of my can.

“One… two… three,” I said, cracking my can open and chugging the disgusting amber liquid until there was nothing left in the can. Thinking I had won, I smiled big before I saw Steve sitting down in the pool chair, a victorious smile on his lips. “Oh, shut up.”

“Have fun thinking you won?”

I sighed and sat in the chair next to him. Shrugging, I said, “So what? I’m a little rusty.”

“Are you sure you’re rusty and not just new to drinking?” Tommy laughed.

I looked at Steve and asked, “You’re really friends with this dipstick?”

Steve laughed, handing me the lighter so that I could light my cigarette, which I happily did so… before coughing up a lung.

“Oh, little baby can’t handle–” Carol started.

Holding the stick between two of my fingers, I pointed it at her and said, “Quit while you’re ahead, wannabe,” before Tommy grabbed her and pretended to throw her into the heated pool.

Trying to diffuse the situation, Nancy asked Steve, “Was that supposed to impress me?”

“You’re not?” Steve and I responded.

“You’re both a cliche, you do realize that?”

Sitting on the side of the chair, I looked pointedly at her and said, “You are a cliche. What, with your good grades and band practice.”

She laughed and said, “You know I’m not in band.”

“Okay, party girl,” I chuckled, standing. I motioned at Steve to hand me the knife as I grabbed a can of beer before handing them both out to her. “Show me how it’s done, then.”

“Okay,” she said, almost excited.

Noticing Barb from behind her, I looked at her, watching as she shook her head after making eye contact with me.

Nance stood, Steve telling her where to make the hole. She did so as Tommy said, “Yeah, she’s smart, you douche.”

“Hey, Tommy,” I said. “You got a little something right– oh, wait. That’s just your face.”

Chuckles from Steve and Barb were heard for a moment before I heard Steve say “Chug, chug, chug” from behind me. I turned and watched Nancy chug her beer before tossing her can on the ground, Tommy cheering for her.

“Barb, you wanna try?” Nancy asked.

I looked between both of them, trying to decide if I should step in or not since this wasn’t exactly Barb’s scene. She tried protesting, but of course, Nancy talked her into doing it. Steve, too. That wasn’t the Steve I remembered.

Barb stood and went to poke a hole with the knife, but the blade slipped off the can and gave her a pretty bad cut, which Tommy chuckled at. That was my queue to step in.

I walked up to her, holding her hand. “Yikes. Water, paper towels and a first aid kit, pronto.”

“Where’s your bathroom?” Barb asked, looking over my head at Steve.

Standing, Steve said, “Oh, it’s-it’s, uh, down past the kitchen, to the left.” There’s the Steve I know.

Barb gave her thanks, and went inside. I really wanted to make sure she was okay before everyone started drinking again.

“You okay?” Steve asked.

I hummed, and looked up at him. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Looking back at the sliding glass doors, I sighed. “Sister instinct is kicking in. I wanna make sure she’s okay.”

Before he could give his answer, if he even wanted to give me an answer, we both turned at the sound of someone squealing. My question was answered before I could even think of the question; Tommy pushed Carol in the pool, who said, “Oh, my god. What the hell, Tommy?”

He jumped in after her as Steve put his arm around my shoulders, guiding me slowly to the edge of the pool before pushing both Nancy and I in. When I came back up for air, I looked at Steve, and watched as he jumped in.

When he surfaced, I splashed water at him, exclaiming, “I’m gonna kill you!”

He splashed me back, and it felt like old times; us playing in the pool… before he remembered that Nancy was in the pool, too. As they were having their fun, I got out, announcing that I was going to get us all some towels.

After I had gone inside to retrieve the towels, I wrapped up in mine, checking on Barb, who seemed to be doing okay.

“I just… really want to go home,” she said.

“I’ll take you home, don’t worry,” I said, rubbing her arm. “That is after I put on some dry clothes.” I chuckled, but it didn’t seem to reach her ears, so I walked to the back patio, putting the towels on one of the chairs.

When everyone else got out and wrapped up in their towels, we headed back inside, where Carol said that she was freezing, and Tommy mentioned that Steve’s parents had a fireplace in their bedroom.

“You’re cleaning the sheets,” Steve said. Walking to Nancy, he asked, “You alright?”

She answered that she was as he walked over to me.

“I’m sure you can still fit in the clothes you left here,” he said.

“I haven’t really grown since freshman year, so I think I might,” I chuckled.

Steve and I went up to his bedroom when I heard Barb holler for Nancy. I’m not sure what they talked about, and to be honest, I really didn’t care. I just wanted out of these freezing ass clothes.

I looked around Steve’s room as I walked in, smiling a little to myself. “Hasn’t changed a bit.”

Steve shrugged. “Eh. There’s a new poster.”

“Doesn’t count,” I said, moving to the dresser drawer that had my clothes in it. I grabbed a pair of pants, not really feeling the shirts I had in there. I closed that drawer and went to the closet, turning on the light. “I’m borrowing a shirt.”

“You never returned my others,” he said.

I turned my head, seeing him standing at the open closet door. “Give a girl a break. They’re comfortable.” Since my undergarments were soaked as well, I went back to my drawer, grabbing a bra and a pair of panties before moving back to the closet to change.

Once I was finished, I walked out, seeing Nancy looking at Steve with bedroom eyes, taking off her shirt. “Nice,” I whispered, quickly walking out of the bedroom. Going to the kitchen, I was fully intending on making myself a glass of water and a quick sandwich to eat before taking Barb and Nancy back home.

As I was eating my sandwich and sipping on my water, I noticed that the lights flickered on and off. It was more of a blink and you’ll miss it type of flicker. What’s crazy is I thought I heard screaming, but I guessed that was just my imagination.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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~~~

A/N 2:  hi, friends! i hope y’all liked this chapter! i’m working as hard as i can on making sure the series is being uploaded on a good, consistent schedule unlike yabmh, lol. again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Note: i know that some of y’all are waiting to see your requests, and i promise i’ll get to them. the writer’s block hit really bad with them. atb is the only thing i have motivation to write for at the moment. once i receive my ged, i’ll have more time to sit down and write them.

~~~

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~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski​.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

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Posted on November 13, 2023

[the-way-of-words]

A Taste Of The Divine Part Two

Joakim "Jolly" Karlsson x Holly (ofc) x Noah Sebastian

Content warnings: partner sharing, consensual voyeurism, beginnings of a BBA (big bi awakening)

Contains sexual situations with and between fictionalized versions of real people. Not a fan of rpf? Back button is there.

Part of the PolyVerse // MasterList

Part One

Joakim watches from his spot on stage, as the man keeps at her. He keeps touching her, trying to get her attention, only to be repeatedly rebuffed. She's not his, but that doesn't stop his blood from boiling at the thought of another man touching her; someone other than the four of them. He knows Holly can handle herself that's not the issue, it's the stupid fuck who can't take no for an answer. But just before he's about to say something and send security out to handle it, he sees the guy go down and people around him signal for security to get him out of the crowd. Jolly doesn't know what Holly did, but judging by the pleased smile on her face, she did something. 

She's not his, but that doesn't stop him from cornering her after the gig to kiss her heatedly before pulling her into their deserted green room. Holly follows him willingly however, only pausing when she realizes it’s just the two of them. 

"Jolly, what's going on?" Her brow furrows in confusion and he doesn't blame her; this isn't what they do. But how can he explain the deep need he has for her in this moment when he doesn't even understand it himself? He backs her into the closed door, taking her face in his hands while he nips at her bottom lip. Holly sighs, opening her mouth for him, letting his tongue in to slide against hers briefly. 

"I can't explain it, Holly," he starts, words spoken between wet kisses, "I just… want you." One of his hands leaves her face, playing with the hem of her skirt; it's the same one she wore the night they had sex for the first time and the memory only adds to the fire churning in his blood. His fingers trail up her thigh, slipping underneath the black fabric all the way to the edge of her panties. "Do you want me too, sweet girl?" Jolly stops his ministrations, ready to step away if she says no. Because as much as he needs Holly, the last thing he wants is to push her into something she doesn't fully want.

She grabs the hand still resting under her skirt, presses it against her mound, and he can feel it—the dampness of her panties as she speaks, "Joakim, please."

The words leave her mouth in a breathless whisper, her hands going for his belt. He lets her get his pants undone and then he's pulling her away from the door to the small couch. Jolly pulls his cock out while she removes her panties and then she's on him, straddling his thighs and sinking down until all he knows is her wet heat. What they're doing is risky, almost stupid. If anyone apart from a very select number of people were to walk through the unlocked door, things would get very complicated. But every one of those worries goes away as Holly moves her hips. 

The fingers of one hand dig into her thigh, while the other tangles in her dark hair holding her head in place. Amber eyes meet his and he understands why Nick always asks her to look at him. Jolly can see every stroke of pleasure play across her face, from her blown pupils to the "O" shape of her open mouth. Just as he begins to move with her, hips rising to meet hers, the door opens. Panic floods his chest and Holly scrambles off him, both of them hurrying to right their clothing only to be met with Noah's laugh. 

"Should have known you'd be together when we couldn't find either of you." His friend doesn't look upset, not like Jolly thought he would be. All there is, though, is a pleased smirk on his face. "Yeah," Noah continues, "it was the guy in the crowd, wasn't it, Jolly?"

He nods, just as Noah does as well; the other man approaches the both of them, coming to a stop in front of Holly, "I know the feeling, all I could think about the rest of the show was driving myself so far inside, no one would think about touching you again. Open up, beautiful." Noah taps on Holly's thigh and she opens her legs with zero hesitation. Jolly watches with rapt attention as Noah's hands slide up the smooth skin, pushing up her skirt to see the softest part of her. Holly gasps when Noah slides two fingers into her, head falling back, her hair cascading down in dark waves when Noah speaks again.

"You're dripping baby, did he feel good?" She bites her lip, head rising to look at him again, and nods. "Yeah, you looked like you were enjoying yourselves. Do you want to keep going with him?"

She nods again, "Yes," she gasps, hips moving in time with his fingers, "Noah… yes. Please." Noah says nothing, just continues to fuck her with his fingers, his free hand wrapping around her throat, using the hold to bring their lips together. This close, he can see the exact moment Noah's tongue enters her mouth and watches first hand how Holly sucks on it. Joakim can't control the noise that leaves his mouth as he watches the two of them kiss. The give and take of their mouths tugging on the strings of his arousal and gripping them tight. 

Noah pulls away from Holly, mouth and fingers leaving her, save for the hand at her throat that he uses to keep her where she is when she tries to follow. He chuckles darkly, voice rough as he speaks, "I think he misses you. Why don't you get back to where you were before I came in, huh?" 

She nods, and his friend finally lets her go, lets her move back over to him, but Noah stops her just before she straddles him again. "Turn around, please, baby? I wanna see your face as he makes you feel good." 

Holly leans in and Jolly lets her tongue sweep into his mouth for a quick, dirty kiss before she's turning around, settling back in his lap with her back to his chest. He grabs her hips, fingers digging into her skin, as Noah grabs a folding chair from the corner; planting himself in front of them to watch Holly sink back down on Jolly's cock. She's even wetter than before, thanks to Noah, and it takes every bit of willpower he has to not cum as she envelopes him once again. 

"Let me watch you ride him, Holls." Noah's voice sounds strained and full of heat, and when Jolly looks, he finds the other man palming himself over his pants as he continues, "God, you look so good stretched around him." 

The three of them groan in near unison when Holly moves; hips rocking back and forth as she takes him, pussy clenching tightly around him when he meets her halfway, thrusting up into her himself. Jolly loses himself in her, the wet feel of her around him, the grip of her fingers in his, and he almost forgets there's someone else in the room. That is until he feels the swipe of a tongue along where he and Holly are joined. 

Jolly tightens his grip around Holly's hips to stop her as he sits up a little more, bringing his chest to meet her back so he can look down the front of her body. He doesn't know when Noah moved, or how long he's been between their legs but the how's and why's quickly evaporate once he takes in the look on the other man's face. Noah's eyes are dark with hunger when he finally tears his eyes from Holly's center, from where Jolly has her spread open around him. 

Something about Noah's face makes Jolly's throat run dry. He's seen this look directed at Holly and Nick a few times, sure, but it's never been aimed at him before. It's almost as if it's him that Noah wants too, not just the woman between them. 

"You can tell me to fuck off, Jolly, and I'll back away, let the two of you finish," he pauses, swallowing before he continues, "or, I can keep going. Is that okay with you?" 

Jolly swallows and feels himself nodding without even thinking about it, just adds it to the list of stuff he's not ready to deal with. Hooking his chin over Holly's shoulder he watches Noah lower his face back to Holly's cunt. Watching the other man suck her clit into his mouth to bring her to her climax, Jolly grunts; the feel of her spasming around him makes him dizzy with need. He wonders if she's leaking out around him, and if that's why Noah's tongue moves to her opening, where Jolly's moving in and out of her. It's something he's never thought about, but now he's curious, do they do this when the three of them are together? Noah licking and tasting Holly off Nick's cock while he's fucking her, just like he's doing to Jolly right now? It doesn't put him off, doesn't make him uncomfortable, if anything the feel of Noah's tongue against his shaft makes him hotter. 

Relief still floods him, however, when Noah backs away because while Jolly's gotten good at holding off his own finish when he's with Holly—the price of not being able to have her again is too great compared to the temptation of filling her—but the two of them combined was almost too much. Noah doesn't go far, sliding the chair closer to the two of them before he sits down again and Jolly can feel the man's knees brushing against his inner thighs as he moves.

Focusing on the woman in his lap, Jolly redoubles his efforts. One hand coming to grip her throat tight, he whispers darkly in her ear, "Come on sweet girl, you came so well for him, do you… think… you can give… hmm fuck… me one too?" He's losing his words, brain too focused on holding himself off until she gives him what he asked for. 

His other hand falls to her clit, rubbing his thumb across the nub, as the grip on her throat relaxes. Holly sobs audibly, body growing rigid as he feels her second orgasm take hold. He sees Noah move in, and Jolly moves his hand from her neck, giving Noah room to kiss her. 

But it's not Holly he kisses. 

Noah's lips crash into his and Jolly is hopeless to do anything but meet him halfway. He opens his mouth and Noah's tongue slides in to move against his own. It's wet, messy and full of heat and it's what helps tip Jolly over the edge, groaning into his friend's mouth as he cums, thrusting into Holly as he fills her. Noah doesn't pull away, keeps kissing him as the blood rushing in his ears quiets. It's Jolly who has to pull away in the end, falling back against the leather behind him to catch his breath and he watches Noah move to Holly. Kissing his girlfriend gently, lovingly, before pressing their foreheads together. 

"I'll let you two get dressed and then Nick and I will meet you outside, okay?" The words are quiet, and he hasn't taken his eyes off of Holly, but Jolly knows Noah's speaking to them both.

Holly nods, kissing him one last time before uttering, "Love you." 

Noah smiles, that one smile that Jolly's only seen in the presence of Holly or Nick, as he says, "I love you too, beautiful." He nods at Jolly as he stands, heading to the door and slipping out of the room without a second glance. 

~~

They untangle themselves and work on putting themselves back together; it really is only a matter of time now before someone finds them. She makes a face as she pulls her underwear up, "I swear I can never win with you, either you finish in my panties and I lose them or you cum in me and I have nothing to clean up with."

Jolly huffs a laugh, "Well you could always--"

"I'm not using them to clean up with Joakim!" Holly cuts him off with a pointed finger and a scowl but it doesn't last, she can feel the corners of her mouth curving upwards before too long.

He's suddenly serious once the moment subsides, gently touching her arm as he speaks "... Hey I'm not gonna catch shit for that later am I?" 

"For what?" For a moment, she doesn't know what he's talking about, mind coming up blank. It's only when Jolly raises an eyebrow, head gesturing towards the couch being them, that she realizes, "OH. No… I don't think so. I mean, Noah didn't seem to mind."

"Well, he was a little preoccupied with his tongue in my mouth at that moment…" he stops, letting the sentence trail off. 

There are a lot of unsaid words in the silence between them, and Holly reaches for his hand closing, stepping closer to him. "Are you doing okay with that? I know it was different."

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Jolly snorts, incredulous. "I had your boyfriend's tongue on my dick and then in my mouth." 

She shakes her head, "Jolly. I have two boyfriends, who not only hook up with each other but also like to watch the two of us have sex… my mind is more open than you might think. Not to mention, that was pretty hot from where I was at. So. Are you doing okay with it?"

She's being honest. Something about seeing the two men lock lips with her in between them set her alight, and it helped clear some things up for her. She's not blind, Holly's seen the way Noah's started eyeing Jolly, even outside of the bedroom. Even Nick had a similar look when he watched Jolly and her together for the first time a few weeks ago. It's not as if she can blame them though, because even though she has said she wants nothing more with Jolly, there's been moments. Moments when she'll catch herself looking at him a little too long, a familiar spark kicking off in her chest. 

It's reminiscent of the way she felt in the early days with Noah, and Nick all those years ago. And if she lets herself be honest it scares her, this uncharted territory. She's almost grateful for the dark chuckle Jolly lets out, happy for the distraction from thoughts she's not quite ready to handle just yet.

"It was different, I guess…" he says, cheeks coloring.

"Well… Did you like it?" she asks. 

For a moment he's quiet, before ducking his head, a shy half smile breaking across his face. "Yeah… I, uh, I think I did." 

"Okay," she smiles, "would you want to do more of it in the future?"

"Holly--" he starts.

"Okay, okay, okay! Sorry." Holly cuts in. “This isn't the time or place for this conversation, I know. But, whenever you do want to talk about it, we can. Now. What do you say, we meet up with those knuckleheads of mine and find something to eat?" 

That gets a laugh out of him, and she smiles, warmth filling in her chest. Jolly reaches past her to open the door, waving her through, "After you, trouble."

[sukunasun]

sunny do NOT leave us after mentioning professor nanami. he will forever be on my mind. 😣

heres some stuff i fished out from the drafts:

nanami kento phd sets his alarm for precisely six in the morning everyday. this is important because he's already taken into account the morning rush crowd and the weather forecast has predicted sunny skies today, which is rather unlikely for ...england. so he's not buying it, there are only a few precious hours to make up for the time it takes to set up the slides and get the creaky projector to work—not surprising since the university is about eight hundred years old and has yet to figure out why students can’t find assignment posts on canvas—but out the door he goes, a loose sock falls down to his ankle like always, and he would relish in that little bit of familiarity and routine, but there isn't enough time to do so when it's already six thirty.

"attendance will be taken into account for your final grade, five minutes is the cut off point,” he announces every semester, with every new batch of students, and like clockwork, it’s followed by a chorus of groans. 

but none of them try to fight him on it, they think the old man has enough to deal with, given that he’s always got the moodiest face on, brooding and emotionless. he’s barely 30 but he receives senior citizen discounts at the cafe nearby. already looks the part with his brown sweater vests and thick rimmed buddy holly glasses, shoes clacking on pavement as he's rushing from one lecture hall to another. but the pants are nice, he’s thrifted them from his first time at a market in camden (sans spectacles and or orthopaedics. those had to be custom made.) 

his laptop is shoved into his worn out leather messenger bag clumsily, who cares, it's a PC, they’re sturdier and he’d rather settle for thinkpads than buying into that fruit company. the zipper's broken so he clasps it shut with his fingers, briskly side stepping slow walkers and mutters a "fucking hell," under his breath when he comes across couples making out in the open, sucking each other's faces off, he's cringing at how obscene it is, enough to turn his croissant bland. rammed into his open maw, he has no time for jams or butter, so a soggy, saliva-drenched mess will do.

about 200 people show up to his class and that's only because they started having a stricter application process, he remembers when there were more. still, the quantity doesn't phase him, because eventually students will drop out, people fail assignments. the numbers shall dwindle because he's over the hand holding. it used to be fine back when prerequisites were a jumbled up bunch of different majors, he'd help out with a little calculus here and some linear algebra worksheets, y'know, just the basic stuff. but it's about time he stopped the coddling. makes a mental note to remind himself just how much he takes this course seriously. econometrics isn't for everyone, but a bare-bones understanding of basic concepts in probability theory and statistical inference is all he asks for. "you will fail to grasp anything beyond the first week of this syllabus," he tells yuuji itadori who sits in the front row, an enthusiastic kid, eager to learn, but ultimately and unfortunately...foolish.

"what did you major in last semester?" nanami asks impassively, not at all curious really, but just to gauge where he's at. meanwhile another part of his brain is already planning and working out an alternative plan if itadori chooses to stay. maybe something simpler, he's heard accounting is all the rage, as long as he's done something relatively close to mathematics—

“sports marketing!” yuuji exclaims. so self assured, and nanami is about to rip his hair out, fisting at blonde clumps. he really shouldn’t do that, it would be such a shame to have him balding at such a young age. maybe he’ll do a silly side study on it, ‘progressive deterioration of the hair shaft over a two year period primarily caused by excessive weathering and self-inflicted damage.’ (quickly taps out a short intro in his notes app and emails it to geto and gojo with no subject and the one line; ‘thoughts?’) 

nanami breathes out a deep sigh, he's going to have a not so friendly chat with the admins after this. "and why have you chosen this course, as a challenge i presume? i should remind you this is a postgraduate program," which should have been his first clue to itadori's determination.

"i just thought it'll be fun to take your class, you're like, the smartest guy i know," to which nanami can't deny him when he's so earnest about it. if he were being realistic, the chances for yuuji to achieve much are slim, or at least where this course is concerned. but nanami has never been the kind to discourage, so he just hands itadori a list of pdf textbooks he can download for free off some random account, and schedules tutoring sessions on his thursday afternoons. ('thank you @ mr_overtime for providing free and accessible academic resources!' yuuji types before posting it to a message board.)

------------------------------------------------

nanami’s moved to an old research lab the next day, the same group of students show up except there are a few who join him online in a teams channel he’s humorously named ‘ABSENT 7/3/22’ ...just to emphasise on the importance of face to face interactions. he thinks it’s funny. no one laughs. but he didn’t think they would. he’s mapped it out on a data visualizer programme he’s been working on and is proud at the very least that results were accurate. still, the conditions are less than ideal, the stone floors scuff the leather of his shoes, the heating unit is broken, and of course, no projector. “i guess we’ll do graphs today,” he says. 

a choir made up of sifting hands and rustling papers start singing alongside graphite and red cedar grinding under a blade, the quick push, push, pushes of a thumb on pen, cables thrown across one table to another—there are no outputs here. with swift vertical swipes, nanami thinks he’ll suffer the clown lung and the inevitable dry, dust-filled grooves of his fingertips for this, especially because it’s been awhile since he’s used the hagoromo chalk. there’s a pause, everyone waits for the maestro, and he conducts a tune of old, one that’s been unheard in years. when his perfectly straight lines come out thick and layered like snow on a forest floor, phthalo turning into golden-sheen moss green when the sun cuts a slant of light at the right time. his rosy fingers translucent like an orange, pressing, gripping, swishhh-es lines he’s seen again and again, equations he knows by heart, the tapping of rock reverberates, and everyone else follows after its echo.

------------------------------------------------

a replica of ‘wanderer above the sea fog’ gets delivered to his office that afternoon. “still into romanticism?” gojo asks. doesn’t even try to point at the painting, already disinterested. with hands tucked into his favourite parka, he swivels his head around and bounce on his heels like a child, looking for whatever would grasp his interest, wide blue eyes taking in nanami’s office that’s untouched by renovation of any kind, it still smells a little damp and the curtains are yet again pulled shut, but gojo shines with curiosity enough to light up an entire room. 

he shrugs, “‘still into’ suggests fixation, i only observe it as what it is— a painting,” nanami defends, head tilting to the side, “they were going to get rid of it, what was i supposed to do?”

“you make it sound like it were a stray animal,” gojo teases, seeing that nanami doesn’t entertain the jab, he eases the tension by the only way he knows how, bringing attention to himself, “but what do i know, i’ve only just won a nobel,” he shoots nanami a grin that curls from ear to ear. yet again, the scowl is ever prominent. 

moving closer to inspect it, gojo forces himself not to pull a face. yeah no. nothing interesting here; man looking out towards a fog and endless sky. there’s no truth to it. only that the varnish is applied sloppily, and it’s cracking, nooks and crannies gathering dust, rivers splitting down the middle. is it a piece worth anything? worth saving? he doesn’t think so. an artist should just paint what’s in front of him.

nanami overachieves but never finds any meaning in all of it, who's turning into a doubter, a pessimist, "you’re always in a bad mood, must be the weight of that intellect you have," gojo likes to say. one who seeks for something beyond because he uncovers the mysteries of the world and what then? feels like a ghost, hollowed and waning. thou art a scholar horatio, speak to it. watching himself live a life he can't control, every passing moment slipping through his fingers. they're cold and slightly calloused, chalk-dusted. there's a detached way about then, a dismissive wave of his hand, brushing off excuses and late submissions and all the compliments that fall on deaf ears. 

“you see yourself in it,” suguru adds from his corner, nonchalantly. he’s lazing in an armchair with book in hand. when he looks up at the two of them, they stare at him like he were speaking in a foreign language. snapping his book shut, he stretches his limbs out like a cat, “it’s a piece depicting reflection; morality, feeling, something tells me you’re lost kento,” geto gives his hypothesis. and it lingers there. 

[jjtheresidentbaby]

Behind Closed Doors | Mike Wheeler

- this work contains mature topics and themes, if you are not suitable to interact with such things please click away

Find it on Ao3 here

Background: classification au, flip!mike, caregiver!Nancy, caregiver!Will, established Mike x Will, established Nancy x Steve x Johnathan, everything canon happened but eddies alive, takes place after season 4 with vecna dead

Summary: Ted and Karen do some things behind closed doors that Mike desperately tries to hide but what happens when it all comes crashing down?

Genre: heavy angst, comfort

Authors note: this is my first stranger things fic so please be nice, I think I kept the characters in character but if I didn’t let me know (also this got long as hell sorry) this is based off the conversation me and @berrymoos have been having for the past like week hsudheudbj. I could make a second chapter to this if anyone wanted

Warnings: major trigger warning for abuse, bruises, crying, swearing, self conscious!Mike, panic attacks, hair pulling

~

Mike wipes the blood off his nose with the towel Karen holds out to him, she doesn't even look mad at her husband for hitting their kid. No. No she looks disappointed in Mike. As if he didn't know he wasn't supposed to slip, like there wasn't past bruises and scars to get it through his head, he fucking knew that going little at home was a bad idea, he knows!

But tonight was different, Nancy wasn't home and Holly was at a friends which means both Wheeler parents were out of the house for a few hours. School was really rough today so Mike knew he was teetering on the edge of falling into his small headspace but thought he could push it away long enough to get home to Nancy. Then Nancy wasn't here.

Mike has regressed without even noticing it, mistake number a hundred of today it seems. So when Karen and Ted came home two hours later to Mike sat on the couch chewing on his shirt entranced in a cartoon, they were livid and Mike was taken off guard. Taken off guard to the point of not even being able to dodge the first slap Ted threw.

Things spiraled so quickly that when Mikes little headspace did go away, as it does almost instantly when someone hits him, the beating was half over. His torso’s purple and yellow with bruises, lip split, nose aching as blood dribbles down, tears welled in his eyes unwilling to fall and his mothers face. She looks like getting beat up and screamed at by Ted wasn't enough, like she's about to give a lecture about how they are a bloodline of caregivers and being a flip is unacceptable as is, going little is out of the question. But again, Mike knows this all.

He's heard it so many times that he can basically recite the exact words his father or mother would pull out. Not to mention just how much he's been doing to stay big and a caregiver, it's practically all he thinks about, sure he regresses at the Byers house and with Nancy but that's about it. He also is very careful about when he regresses, if there's even a chance of his parents stopping by he won't.

Mike Wheeler would say himself that he's a smart kid - scratch that- a smart teenager. He's not a kid and won't act like one. No freaking way, after what happened tonight? There's no reason or person that can make Mike slip.

It's not like he goes little all the time anyways, nowhere near as close to as much as Max or Dustin do. But Dustin's a full little and Max has a little lean, Mike wouldn't say he didn't lean to his little headspace but he wouldn't admit that he did either. He's neutral? Middle? He's a flip but is pretty good at staying in that blank space of nothingness.

It's probably why he's so stressed out so much though. His resting face of being over it and clenched jaw proves Mike could do a bit better at relaxing. He can't though, if he falls in caregiver space then he'll be around littles and while he loves all his little friends, there's a sick sour twist of jealousy in his gut watching them be so carefree. His little headspace claws it's way to the front of Mikes brain anytime it comes out even when he does feel safe and comfortable but being achy doesn't really help matters.

~

Five days later and Mikes done a damn good job at covering bruises and staying in that neutral ground. He's had a few almost slips, at Wills house the other day, then when Nancy had come in to check in on Mike that night after he got kicked in the ribs by a steel toe boot, that was a hard time to fight off. Nancy's always the one to get his little side to come out and she could tell something was wrong so she was trying really hard to help, Mike felt extra guilty pushing her out of her room with the excuse of a headache.

He's had a "headache" for almost a week now. Avoiding anyone and everyone for whatever shitty excuse he can race to come up with. The party's noticed, Nancy's noticed, Steve and Johnathan have noticed, hell even that girl Robin has taken notice to how off Mike is. He doesn't care.

Except he has to care tonight as it's game night and he can't exactly skip it. He had promised Max to play uno with her tonight, he made the promise before everything went down but he's not about to break it. He can do this, it's one night at the Byers, with the whole party, and Nancy's two boyfriends, and Steve's best friend Robin and her best friend Eddie. It's so many people. He can't do this.

"Mike? You okay?" Nancy turns to look at him in the backseat of Steve's car, Johnathans in the passenger seat, even already being at the Byers he wanted to come for the ride.

"Yeah I'm good." He stops the ringing in and out of his hands that he was doing to try to reassure Nancy.

"Yeah? You've been a bit off for the past few days." She tips her head to look at his ducked down eyes. Mike clenches his jaw even harder, he is fine. Kind of. Sort of. Not really. He really wants to go little as it'd no doubt help with the stress but he can't.

"I don't know, just an off week I guess." He shrugs trying to get past this conversation.

"If you need anything I'm here and so is Johnny and Stevie." Mike smiles a bit wider, he always found it admiring how Nancy pulls out nicknames for her partners.

"Yeah man Will said he's worried about you." Steve calls over his shoulder which earns a punch to his arm from Johnathan.

"You weren't supposed to tell him idiot! What Steve meant was- we’re all a bit worried." Johnathan turns around in his seat with a short sigh. Mike nods looking at how the boys hair falls into his eyes with blows of air through Johnathans mouth to try to get it out of the way. Mike relates, he loves his long hair but that problem arises every now and again.

"Mike? You see something on my face kid?" He shakes himself out of his slight trance at Johnathans chuckle. Shit. That's definitely not good, zoning out always means his little headspace is coming out and being called kid is making everything worse.

"No sorry- just, your hairs getting long." Mike mentally slaps his forehead, his hairs getting long? Seriously that's what he comes up with? Ugh.

"You don't like? Steve's been telling me to leave it long." Mike shakes his head.

"No- no- I like it! It reminds me of when Will grew his hair out when we were kids and he would twist his fingers into it during math and when he thought really hard- he did it a lot- he use to keep pushing it out of his face during lunch and-." Mike shuts himself up. Nice one Wheeler gush about your boyfriend to his brother, real smooth.

"Yeah I remember that. Maybe he should grow it out again if you liked it so much." Mike can feel the heat rise to his cheeks which has Nancy and Steve chuckling lowly.

"Nice talk Johnny! Gonna go inside now!" Mike stumbles himself out of Steve's car as soon as it stops and he goes searching for Will. As much as he's been pulling away, he feels bad leaving Will all lonely.

~

"Hey bab-." Will can't get his sentence out as Mikes hands hold his cheeks in a firm yet gentle grasp and his lips are pressed into Wills. He loves him so much and wants him to know he'd never hurt him, Mike can't bear the thought of Will thinking he'd ever lay a finger on him. He wouldn't. He'd never be like his awful parents.

"Mike- Mike- let me breathe." And Wills laughing as he pulls away but Mikes almost crying. He doesn't know why. He's supposed to be staying big right now, be in that middle ground, he just feels overwhelmed and he shouldn't. He can't is a better way to put it.

"Mike?" Wills brows furrow ever so slightly and Mike finally lets the fact that there are ten people in this room looking at them set in so he does the logical thing- grabs Wills hand and pulls him to Wills bedroom with the door closing too loudly behind them.

"Mike? You okay?" He nods then pushes Will onto the bed so Mikes legs can straddle over Wills lap. It's more sexual than he meant it but he's not going to pull back now.

"I love you. I love you. I love you." He murmurs between sweet kisses, he remembers El thinking he didn't say it enough when they were still a couple, now he makes it a point to say it. Even if it sometimes makes him uncomfortable as he never said it out loud before Eleven.

"I love you too, Mike- are you okay?" He feels like sobbing but pushes it away to nod and cradle Wills cheeks. Will looks so- so good compared to Mike.

He'd never worry about slipping into headspace if he was a little, he'd probably embrace it just like he embraces his caregiver headspace. Will would never ruin his family's bloodline or be a disappointment to his mother. Joyce's pride and joy is her two sons, Will especially as he's never so much as lied about brushing his teeth. He's too good for Mike, he deserves someone better than Mike. Someone who isn't a flip and isn't a fuck up.

"Mike? Baby? Why do you look like you're gonna cry?" Wills hand is soft against Mikes cheek that's burning red as he urges tears back.

"I just- I love you so much and I feel like I don't say it enough or- or I don't show it. But I love you and I don't want you to doubt that." 'I don't want you to be disappointed in me' is what Mike wants to say but doesn't.

"Of course I know you love me Mike, I've never doubted that. I never will. But are you sure you're okay? You've been all distant and now you're on my lap." Mike tries to think of a reasoning but he can't, he just leans forward to lay his head down on Wills shoulder and wrap his arms around Wills middle.

Mike can't justify why he's been distant without exposing what his parents do to him on a, becoming more regular, basis. And as much as he trusts Will, he could never tell a soul what happens behind closed doors. Not when his family is oh so perfect.

"The perfect nuclear family" as Nancy's put it. The oldest daughter with big dreams and amazing grades, the middle son who has tight nit friends and loyalty like no other, the youngest daughter still living in the innocent childhood their parents provide. Their parents who are a man that makes a good living and provides for his family, the mother who washes all the dishes and puts on fresh red lipstick just before her husband gets home.

Abuse would put a major dent in that perfect family, just like being a flip, they are caregivers. The Wheelers are a family of caregivers who walk proudly and smile for every picture. They help the littles that wander into their house unknowing that Ted looks down on them simply because of their classification or that Karen, despite not being as open about it as Ted, has a very passive aggressive way of opinions when it comes to littles. Mike gets the brunt of all those opinions and it hurts just as bad as it did the first time.

He can handle all the bruising and anger but the wording stings. "Weak", "immature", "worthless", "amount to nothing", it slices through his skin deeper than the whiskey glass smashed against the wall. He's not weak and he has dreams, big dreams just like Nancy, his are just kept between himself and sometimes Will or Lucas. Mike fantasizes about traveling, maybe to California, and getting away from it all to be a photographer.

While Mike hates getting his own picture taken and never really dabbles in it aside from the occasional lesson he gets under the table from Johnathan, he loves it. He can capture a perfect moment and hold it in his hands to never be tarnished. It would be amazing, Will being an artist like he always wanted and Mike being a photographer that can take picture after picture of whatever he wants. Mostly Will. He has a lot of pictures of Will.

"My love are you sleeping?" Mike startles a bit at Wills soft tone but he pushes himself off of Wills chest. That was too close, he could feel himself starting to slip down that tricky slope of regression and trying to not let the beating from days prior get to him. Mike knows he'd be a crying mess if he became little and while that’s have him less stressed, he’d rather avoid that tumble of emotions.

"Sorry- not sleeping." He has to focus, stay big, that's the only thing he should be worried about right now.

"Mm, the drool on my shirt says differently." Shit did he actually fall asleep? He didn't mean to and quickly wipes the wet patch on Wills shirt. He's never been good at sleeping with his mouth closed or just not drooling in general.

"I'm sorry. Are- are you mad?" A pang of terror spikes in Mikes chest as he stops to stare at Will. He doesn't look mad, why would he? He has to be use to Mikes excessive drooling by now, but what if he is mad? He could be sick of Mike and think he's gross or-

"Of course I'm not mad darling, I'm pretty sure it's a bit late to be mad when we've been dating six months and this is far from the first time you've drooled on me." Right. Of course. Whats Mike even thinking? It's Will of course he isn't mad, he'd never be.

"Yeah- yeah. Sorry." Mikes eyes drop to his lap as he swallows quickly. He's not sure why he's so nervous or why he's betraying every plan he had for tonight.

Mike had thought out how tonight would go and this is definitely not it. He was supposed to stay big and be a safely away from things that could make him slip, like laying across Wills chest. He even wore his most uncomfortable jeans to make sure he didn't get the normal comfort he gets when small. His long sleeve Hellfire shirt to cover bruises, tight black skinny jeans to keep him sort of stiff, black nail polish picked partly off to distract himself and even his watch that will beep when his parents arrive home from the house party they went to tonight.

While game night is always ended with a sleepover in the Byers living room, Mike still wants to know when his parents will be home. Maybe he can get Nancy to drop him off? It might be better for him to be at home away from so many people. Or maybe that's worse? If he slipped at home he could have a repeat of before. He can't tell which risk he wants to take.

"Mike what's wrong?" He looks up at Will with a head tilt, he's fine. Or he thinks he's at least acting fine.

"You keep pulling your hair, you only do that when you're stressed." Shit he's right, Mike untangles the hand he had at the nape of his neck with a tug. He's always hated that habit, it only got worse after receiving his classification. Then again it makes sense, he always seems to be stressed out in some shape or form.

"Schools just been kinda hard and I have homework to do when I go home." It's not a lie but it feels like one. Mike does have homework to do and school has been extra rough lately, it still feels like he just lied straight to Wills face and Mike hates that feeling. It has him nauseous.

"Well you can worry about it later because tonight's about relaxing." Will grins as he leans up to put his arms around Mike shoulders then flop them both onto the full size bed. A few laughs coming from both partners as Will legs end up tangled in Mikes and Mikes head tucked under Wills chin.

"Yeah, you're right." He can relax without slipping, it won't be that hard.

~

It is that hard and Mike has no idea what to do but panic. He was playing uno like he promised Max, it was them, Dustin, El, Will and Lucas all playing. The whole party while the older kids did some board game with Hopper and Joyce. It's fun and has relaxed Mike a significant amount but that is the issue it seems.

He's so relaxed that he can feel his headspace practically pushing his brain into little mode. He needs to get out of here or he's gonna slip and he's gonna start to cry because his ribs still hurt and his parents would be so mad at him if they knew he was regressing and-

"Mike?" He genuinely jumps away from the hand Steve put on his shoulder. He flinched so hard that he's now standing across from everyone in the room with labored breathing. Shit! Shit! Not a panic attack right now! The last thing Mike needs right now is a panic attack.

"Honey just breathe, it's okay." He jolts at Wills hand on his forearm.

"Don't touch me!" Mike feels his stomach drop through his throat at just how loud that was and how taken back Will looks.

"I'm- I'm sorry- I didn't mean to yell at you- I just- please don't touch me- I can't- I'm sorry." He stops even attempting trying to talk and instead lets his feet stumble backwards til he's pressed against the wall beside the couch and where the hallway begins.

Mikes hands tremble when he peers down at them and that's definitely not a good sign. Shit. He takes in a shaky breath while reaching to press flat at his chest, he can feel his heart beat, but also how fast and heavy his chest is heaving. He needs to calm down, he knows that, everything is going to go to shit if Mike doesn't get himself out of this panicked state.

"Mike how can we help? Tell us what to do." Nancy's right there and Mike almost just reaches for her. She'd hold him into her chest and murmur things about how adorable he is, he loves his sister for that, that loving sisterly energy she always gives. He can't have that now though, he's still fight against his little headspace.

"Too- too much-." There's too many lights and sounds and people around. He wants to be alone where he can curl into a ball and stop being so concerned with other people seeing him.

"Too much what? Was it too loud?" It was but it was a good kind of loud until Mike realized that it was having him slip. He nods to Nancy before sliding down to the floor so he can prop up his knees and tuck his face into the fronts of them with his arms shielding his head away.

"Okay, okay, we turned off the music and tv. Does that help?" Not really. It's apparently too late for that as Mikes brain can't even focus on one solid breath or even just not replaying the events of his parents.

"Do you hear me?! You are ruining this family!"

Mike feels like screeching but refrains to rather choke a sob into his knees. He hates this, he's use to panic attacks by now but still hates the crying bit. It doesn't always happen and only really gets like this when something bad has been going on. It's still somehow worse than any of the beatings or arguments combined, Mike would rather light his skin aflame than cry willingly.

"Darling what can we do to help?" Leave him alone, make him a caregiver, make his life more than a big disappointment. But none of that's reasonable so Mike just tries to sniffle the already falling tears back.

"It's- it's still too much. Everything is too much." The lights are far too bright and he knows there’s more than an acceptable amount of eyes on him as he crumbles apart.

"Okay, alright Steve and Johnathan can take everyone else outside." Mike nods shortly to Joyce's worried words.

"Can you try to look at me? Just look up here bub." That makes a sob crack loose of Mikes chest. Nancy only ever uses that nickname when he's regressed, it originates from his childhood and the nights he'd sneak up into her bed after a bad dream. She'd lull him back to sleep with sweet murmurs and that damn nickname spoken in a gentle whisper.

"I can take you home if you want-."

"No! Please don't make me- no! I can't go there, no, I don't want to, I want to be safe. Please I just want to be be safe." He cruses his little side for being so honest with Nancy and how he knows for sure she heard the fear in his tone.

"Honey all the monsters are gone, you are safe and everyone is here safe too. We're all okay." Mike has a spurt of love spike as he hears Will reassure so gracefully, not a single doubt behind the words.

Although it's not monsters that scare Mike, not the 'other-dimension' kind at least, his monsters sleep down the hall and eat bad meatloaf together every Tuesday evening. They aren’t gone and definitely make him far from safe, if Mike lived in a perfect world where there was a never a monster real to him, he’d be halfway across the world with a different set of parents and maybe a better childhood. One that wasn’t plagued by demons and death, one lived out in the Byers backyard not a thought of worry, eating spaghetti with extra cheese and not having to skip the meal all together as it reminds Mike of what he saw in the upside down and has him gagging. He would go live in that world in a heartbeat. Maybe too quickly if he’s being honest, but there’s a main point that stands out in that world, he’d be a caregiver.

A caregiver that helps his little friends all the time instead of just sometimes. He’d be able to stay big at all times, go live out his dreams not worrying about what awaits him at home. His father would throw those punches or drink that sour smelling alcohol. His mother would look at Mike with adoration and pride instead of disgust and disappointment. His sister wouldn’t have to deal with him crawling to her for comfort. His friends could lean their heads on his shoulder instead of the other way around.

Mike longs for that life. But he knows it’s out of reach. He hates that he can’t have it and it only has him more stressed. Maybe his parents are right and he’ll never be anything in life, maybe he’s bound to rely on them til the day he dies, never leave this cursed town or even that house of horrors. Maybe he really is just a disappointment!

“Mike! Mike stop! Stop- kid- kid calm down you’ll hurt yourself even more.” He can’t calm down and he has no idea why Hopper is restraining his arms back. He doesn’t want to be touched and he definitely doesn’t want his wrists pinned like when his father leans to burn his cigar out on Mikes collar bone.

“Get off! Get off! Please stop!” Mike takes a moment to realize that he’s yelling and crying extremely loud. Louder than loud, he’s almost screeching while thrashing in Hoppers hold.

"I can’t do that kid, you were pulling your hair too tight.” He was what? He doesn’t notice it til that moment but his scalp is tender with pain and hands are in tight fists. Shit.

Mike stills and looks up at Hopper with confusion that quickly switches to dread. He has him pinned- Mike can’t do anything to get out of this grasp. He can’t defend himself in any way shape or form. Shit, shit, shit!

“Don’t- don’t hurt me, I’m sorry! Please I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He begs and takes all his energy to stop crying, his father always got more angry the more Mike cried and maybe Hoppers the same.

“Woah, Woah, Mike breathe. I’m not going to hurt you, I’d never hurt you kid.” It’s not all that much helpful but Hopper does let his hands loosen over Mikes wrists. Mike breathes a short breath of calm.

“Can you let go? I- I won’t pull my hair.” Not purposely at least.

“Okay kid, just try to keep breathing.” His breathing isn’t perfect or anywhere close to it but it’s enough that has Mikes chest not so tight.

That calmness is quickly thrown out the window when Nancy’s appearing beside Mike with a loud gasp. Mike furrows his brows but peers down to where Nancy’s staring, his shirts pushed up enough to show the purple bruise still on his ribs, Mike quickly gets the shirt pulled down and sits up to look at Nancy wide eyed. Shit.

“Mike what happened….” Nancy trails off as tears well up in her eyes. Mike stumbles to his knees so he can try to explain that very incriminating bruise that’s surely enough for Hopper to go arrest his father.

“It’s not what you think! I- I fell, yeah, I fell.” It’s an awful lie but Mikes never been good at keeping secrets from his sister once she had an idea of what could’ve happened.

“Oh baby.” Joyce puts a hand on Nancy’s shoulder and Mike squirms under the gazes. Hoppers putting the pieces together as his eyebrows raise up his forehead, Will has a few tears sliding down that he’s quick to cover, Nancy turns her head into Joyce’s neck and Joyce just gives this look of understanding mixed with concern.

“I swear I fell! I totally fell, like- like down the stairs at home and- and…..” Nobody seems to be believing Mike so he stops talking all together.

“Mike did dad do that?” Nancy wipes her puffy eyes with a turn to Mike. He bites his bottom lip and urges his hand away from his still pained scalp to instead fidget with the hem of his shirt.

“Mike you need to tell me.” He closes his eyes with a breath, all he has to do is say it. He knows how bad everything will be afterwards but he can’t not say it.

“Yeah he did. But- but I deserved it and I should’ve known better and-! Nancy please, I deserved it, you can’t be mad at him!” His sister stands in a fury of sisterly protection that Mike follows quickly to try and stop.

“Mike, listen very carefully, no matter what happened or what you think you did, you didn’t deserve any of it. Nobody deserves to get hit by their father.” Joyce cuts in as her eyes flick to Will for a moment.

“No- no I did! I- I slipped at home and I’m not supposed to do that! I know I’m not, I broke the rules! It wasn’t even that bad! It’s far from the worst I’ve had!” Mike brushes his hands through his hair a few times as his volume raises throughout the explanation. He really did know it was a bad idea and what would come if he ever regressed at home.

“Wait- is this because you regressed?” Shit.

“Nance it’s fine, I should’ve known better.” He gives the most assuring tone he can but Nancy’s eyes light up like flames.

“I’m gonna kill him!” She’s spinning on her heels to grab the nail-filled bat that sits by the front door since everything with the upside-down went down.

Nancy storms out the door, bat up by her shoulder, walk like she’s running the world and nothing can stop her. Mike rushes to follow her outside, he knows how serious she is and it’s not going to be pretty if she gets to that house.

“Steve, Johnathan let’s go!” Both her boyfriends jaws go partly slack jaw at Nancy snatching Steve’s keys out of his back pocket and stalking to the car but they jump to follow her.

“Nancy wait!”

~

[emerald-dragonflame]

Really dumb thing I've been thinking about is what classes and races the MHI Crew would play in DnD/Pathfinder.

Earl wouldn't because the only board game he'd be interested in is Monopoly, cause that's when money made sense (I genuinely think he finds video games and TTRPGs silly)

Tanya wouldn't cause she would try to use real elf magic in the game and would get frustrated when Tripp, the DM, says she can't do that.

And Edward wouldn't simply due to the fact that there's way too much talking and numbers involved.

Tripp is obviously the DM, playing either Pathfinder or a more homebrewed version of DnD

Owen would play after Tripp tells him it'll be fun (even though he says that it's a nerd game. As if he isn't a giant fucking nerd himself. My mans, your an accountant, this is a numbers game, and you don't even have to factor in taxes, it was, like, made for you), so he decides to play something he thinks is funny: A Dragonborn rouge who is way too good at sneaking around. He's not edgy, and doesn't have a tragic backstory or anything like that, he's just a shit stirrer. Only later realizing "Oh... crap this is actually kinda fun", turning his character into the best part of the campaign.

Julie would play a gunslinger Halfling, mostly cause I think she would play something she knows (and Tripp would definitely change some gunslinger rules to make them more realistic), and I think she really likes the trope "cute, but deadly". She'd 100% play the sweetheart of the group, and play the character closest to her personality.

And while Owen and Julie try not to have their characters fall in love, it kinda happens on accident cause the two idiot lovebirds won't stop jokingly flirting with each other, and whoops, how did they end up in the same bed?

Holly would play a male Goliath barbarian, and would be the only person playing someone of the opposite sex. She doesn't care about the roleplaying or anything like that. Her characters entire personality is: A'm only 'ere t' crack skulls, an' fuck bitches... and a'm all outta bitches t' fuck". Girl doesn't care at all about the kingdom they need to save, she just wanna roll dice and swing her axe around.

"I would like to rage" is her favorite thing to say.

This is all mostly headcanon that I have no proof for other than "yeah, that feels about right", but it's fun and i think fit's their personalities... I... might have to draw these characters now, lol

[owlmoonboi]

I grabbed out the scissors. The silver metal shone in the light of the sun that creeped between the gaps of the curtains. I grabbed a strand of hair and made a chop with the scissors. I grabbed another clump of hair and chopped. I chopped and I chopped. I cut off two inches. Then I chopped off four. I continued to chop off more until it sat just above my eyebrows. I went to the bathroom where I grabbed one of Dad’s razors. I began to shave the back of my head and then the left side and then the right side. I then began to shave the hair on the top of my head. I shaved my hair all the way down to a number one before grabbing the razor, Dad used to shave his face to square off the sides above my ears so it looked more masculine. Not that I want to look like a boy or be one. Just I want to look less feminine. It’s not even that I want to look less feminine it’s just because it’s what I want. To look more like someone else. To be someone else. To no longer be myself.

On sleepless nights when my tears are my only solace when my room becomes a prison and my thoughts that are my demons I wish for myself. I wish for a moment. Just for the blink of an eye that I could die to feel what it’s like. Like to be free. To be gone. To vanish. To dissipate. I wonder if my family would cry at my funeral. I wonder if there’d be a funeral. I wonder what they’d do with my body. What would they do with my belongings? Would they remember me? Would they be happy? I think they honestly wouldn’t care. I wouldn’t care. I think that but I can’t really because I’d be dead. Not even what I’d written on paper or a screen so how can the thoughts in my head be? I have to learn to leave my thoughts alone and not let them taunt me. I like to imagine one day I’ll be happy with just being me.

I put the razor back in the bathroom cupboard. I looked in the mirror while I rubbed my hands over my head to feel the little prickles of a shaved head. I left the bathroom and walked back into my bedroom. I sat in the middle of my pile of hair that I had chopped off and began to laugh. I laughed, and I laughed, and I laughed. I laughed so much that I began to cry. The tears ran down my warm tanned face. With the tips of my fingers I gently wiped away the tears.

Feeling that shaving my hair off wasn’t enough I decided to grab some earrings from my jewelry box, some thumbtacks and a handkerchief. I decided to give myself my second and third hole piercings. There was a slight sting but not too bad. It bled a little. I used my handkerchief to wipe away the blood. I didn’t care if it got stained since I didn’t use hankies. I thought it was disgusting to use them. Carrying around a piece of cloth that you wiped your boogers on. It’s just so grotty.

I love the word grotty. I feel certain words are just more fun to say than others. My friend Liz likes to say LOL. She says she likes the way it rolls off her tongue. I mean I understand that. It is a fun word to say. Dad loves to say fuck. He uses it in every second sentence but he can’t help it. He went to a school in WA so he won’t have as good vocabulary as my Mum and I due to WA being so much behind. It isn’t really but my Mum likes to say that.

“Holly”. My Mum called. “I’ll be there in a minute.” I called back. I ran down the hallway to the kitchen where Mum was doing the ironing. “What did you want?” I asked. “May you please put away Chelsea’s dresses.” Mum responded before continuing to speak. “Why did you cut your hair?” “I was bored.” I smiled as I walked away with Chelsea’s dresses. My younger sister Chelsea does dance and always needs her dresses to look nice. She attends a school for the creative arts. She’s fourteen. She has blonde hair and blue eyes just like Mum. She looks like one of those bimbo bitches who will end up smoking cigarettes and having anorexia. She does ballet and gymnastics. She would be annoyed if I forgot something she does. She loves talking about all the stuff she does. I don’t think doing a few twirls or a flip is that amazing. I’m not saying she isn’t talented since she is but it’s annoying to hear her talk about it all the time. Though she isn’t as bad as my older sister Hailey who does science. She is always going on about how she has an internship at a hospital where she is helping to find out the connection between rheumatoid arthritis and stunted growth as well as the way it affects pregnancy. I think it’s cool that she is doing well but I hate always having to hear about the success of my sisters. Some people would say I’m jealous and I would agree. I am jealous and there is nothing wrong with that. If other people were me they’d be jealous. Nobody would want to be me. I’m the weird quiet kid who only has two friends. The girl who’s known as “flapjack” because my chest is more flat than paper. Plenty of guys have bigger boobs than me and I don’t just mean the fat or gay guys. I mean the guys who are known as hot shots. You know like the ones who pretty much come out of the womb with abs. Not that my appearance is my only fault. I have a long list of flaws. The list is too long to be counted and too long to be written or said. It would take the rest of my existence for each and every flaw to be written down. Some people may say I suffer with low self esteem but I don’t care I’m a piece of shit. I like to just sit on the sidelines and laugh at others while they hopelessly fail.

[i-like-eyes]

DevLog 2

We are at log 2 and real life has already got in the way. As I don't got a lot to show off I'll post some non-spoilery asset stuff and hide the rambling under read more.

While I did get a good chunk of the script done, there is still plenty of dialogue I need to get to. As a result, I didn't get any maps done. I'm trying to make this game with RPG Paper Maker's strengths in mind, but every once in awhile I'll realize I made an assumption of what the engine can do and the script has to be put on pause because of it. For example, a lot of this game I had already planned out having pictures on screen for more cinematic scenes. Literally two days ago I realized I don't actually know how to do that in the engine. Thankfully there is a Discord for RPGPM and the people there have been a huge help.

To supplement my question I had drawn a reference of what I meant; it's nothing significant I just think it looks funny.

I'm probably not going to show off the script itself because words on a doc isn't terribly interesting. Here are talk sprites in the mean time.

In order they are Holly, Jim, and Micheal. I might talk more about them next month.

Grant herself I debating making a talk sprite for, I probably will in the end but I'm wondering if how she reacts in those sections should be left up to the player to interpret. I'm thinking about how you see Phoenix clearly while in a courtroom because of the more cinematic approach to that section of the game, but when talking to other characters you don't see his face; instead the characters are talking directly to you because it's more personal. That (and a stupid amount of over analyzing the portraits of FE13-16 because FETH criticism is fucking weird) contributed to the npcs in this game looking directly at you. Also because horror game, things are supposed to be a bit unnerving. If Grant had a sprite she wouldn't look at the player because you are playing as he;, she should reflect the fact that you are looking at the npcs.

While this is the first game I've taken really seriously as a personal project, it's development cycle still throws me off because of what I've done beforehand for school.

It's weird, normally when making a game I'd focus on gameplay first and story last. I've done a handful of small scale projects at school, and the number one thing teachers drill into your head is to have the gameplay and the narrative play off each other. Most students go in with this epic idea for a story and only really want to make it a game because games are cool, not that they think they can have the gameplay enhance the plot. This combined with a lot of demos we made were based on popular genres (FPS for example) meant our development cycle looked a lot like gameplay first then story built to compliment that. My other game ideas either looked like that or smth more equally balanced, I think of a story element and a gameplay element I thought of happens to compliment that, but I've never had to come up with the majority of the plot first then the gameplay afterwards. Part of it was trying to discourage students from doing that, because they tend to have far too ambitious plotlines in mind. The other part was like fucking hell they are teaching us that weird niche visual novel shit because we are being trained to work for some company's Toronto division pumping out sequels.

But ultimately I've just never had an idea like this one before. Half my game ideas are fighting games and the rest are platformers, puzzle games, etc. I have thought of two -ish TRPG's, and briefly came up with a couple of other visual novel ideas, but they never stuck with me as long as the likes of Red Spikey Hair Guy Needs To Let Out Some Anger The Platformer (WIP name). If that title is any indication, the plot isn't my main concern for that game yet. That's because I want to figure out the gameplay more before I further flesh the story out because I want it to blend together. And then it gets put on hold because I forget how to program. Anyways, with Riverside there is very minimal gameplay. The reason why it is still a game and not just a comic or smth is because I think it is very important that you are put in the shoes of a patient at a nursing home, because you can't really get the same empathy with any other medium. Or hell, you don't get that same experience in real life until it's too late.

[elvesandlanterns]

Ghost helpline part 16- Everyone goes home

Billy walked out of the, surprisingly opened at 3 am, art store with bags of painting supply. Ducking into an alley, he transformed. He felt a lot better.

Alright he was ready to head for Gotham, after all his family was waiting for him there.

Now how to get around the Bats, he could probably avoid them if he walked in Bludhaven right?

- “Ow! What the hell! Billy???” The kid had decided to detransform mid air and ended up on top of the small vampire.

“Jack?”

The two looked at each other, “Holly shit are you bleeding! Did I do that?”

“What no of course not! I just got caught up with some bigoted werewolf.” Reds blood was already dry, skin scared as if the encounter had taken place days ago. “Billy what are you even doing here?!”

“Finished that pie at the diner and took a walk around the place. Was just starting to head home”

Translation: I’m done with my mission and patrol of Fawcett and am trying to go home.

“And you didn’t take the short cut home because?”

Billy quizzically raised an eyebrow, seriously what does my sister see in this guy? “ Taking the long way seemed like a safer bet, especially in a town like this.”

Translation: Do you want me to get caught by the Batman ?? Huh? Do you?

“Right, we should get going there’s no telling if that wolf will come back. Need a lift?”

“Can’t we just call Dandy to pick us up?”

Red shook his head, “No can do, he left to go pick up Violet chances are he’s barely coming back into town.”

“What do you mean pick Violet up? Where is she?!?”

“It’s a whole thing, just look I am not comfortable being here right now. Don’t you know wolves travel in packs? Do you want a lift or not!?!?”

“Fine.” Jack hoisted Billy over his shoulder, “This is humiliating.”

“Hardy har har, I may be a weak vampire but even I can care you in this form. Now hold tight.”

They disappeared in a blur of pink.

And Nightwing set down the binoculars, this was going to be a long report.

—-

Dandy was ready to strangle them.

“Hold on hold on we can just check the mirror again!”

“Flipping flapjacks, where the heck is Small-ville?”

Klarion could feel Dandy’s eyes burning into him. Whoops, “Well I at least need to know what state we’re in for me to teleport more accurately… so.”

Danka smiled, “So we ask for directions! We are literally on top of a farm right now - someone has got to be here!”

“Well not like we got any other plans here.”

A short walk, a pie and a conversation later Klarion managed to teleport them to the mansion.

Dandy couldn’t enjoy it for a minute. He stopped dead in his tracks, “Klarion, we forgot the car.”

—- —- —-

Bruce’s neck hurt, did he sleep on the

bat-puter again? No it was too soft. He shifted and opened his eyes… he was on a couch? Oh, OH. That wasn’t suppose to happen, he couldn’t have been that tired. The tv was off, and there was a blanket on top of him.

Vlad was gone and the lights were dimmed.

Great he had made a fool out of himself.

Right, it was time to leave. Right now. He could apologize later but he had to leave.

CRASH!

Bruce jolted into action. The sound came from upstairs.

// He’s so going to get robbed.//

Dick was right, for god sakes the house didn’t even have cameras!

Bruce ran up the stairs.

CRash! ThUd! “Ow damn nmit”

Oh that didn’t sound like a criminal… that sounded like a kid.

Two doors opened, Vlad and a little boy came out of them.

The kid had black hair and blue eyes, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Billy!”

“Whatever old man, next time just let us know before you bring some side piece over.”

Oh good god he was another Jason.

——

Bruce got into his car and went home.

He left felling giddy and guilty, holding Vlad’s number.

Dick knew better to keep secrets from The Batman, so he wasn’t going to lie. He just also wasn’t going to tell him what happened to his face. If Bruce really needed to know what happened tonight he could read the report on it.

—- —- —-

Violet stares at the phone longer than necessary, she’s got one shot at this. Don’t fuck up.

She plucks a number out of her inventory and dials.

Violet has never been close to Bradley, he was quiet and reserved. He insisted that she couldn’t do anything without help, well on the upside if someone thinks you’re useless it’s not like you can disappoint them more than you already do.

“Hey Brad, can you come pick me up… I’m at a pub… yeah again…”

- Brad hung up the phone and abandoned his brothers at the movie theater. His sister had called him, him! Not Dandy or Danka or Klarion! She had called him! And now he he had a little sister to save!

He checked the time on his Lock Screen, a picture of Violet having a stuffed animal tea party, it was his prized possession. His little baby sister was just so adorable and kind. And if anyone in Gotham hurt her there was going to be hell to pay! - literally!

—- —- —-

[petersthree]

Decided to do a reading roundup, inspired by @batmanisagatewaydrug​ ‘s own one here! Posted uhhhh like two and a half weeks after January but hey, it’s my blog and my roundup. 

January Stats  Books Read: 30-31, depending on how I rank one book Average Rating: 3.49 Top Genre: Mystery  My storygraph if you wanna follow me and see my reviews (though I’ll link them for each book in the ratings) :) 

This month I read a ton of books but none of them really hit for me - not to say these books were bad (well. Some were LMAO), just probably not the proper time for me to read them lmao. All the books will be listed under the cut (some with comments) but here were the ones that really stood out! 

Standouts: 

As Good as Dead by Holly Jackson: 4.75/5 This was the end of the Good Girl’s Guide to Murder trilogy and GOD what a great series! I’m not going to sit here and pretend this is high art but there’s this special something in this series that makes me love it SO much. Is it Ravi Singh? It might be Ravi Singh. It’s probably Ravi Singh. 

The Wonder State by Sara Flannery Murphy: 4.5/5 I don’t wanna spoil this one because it’s an ARC but I was so pleasantly surrpised by this book. I just think it fucks.

The First to Die at the End by Adam Silvera: 4.5/5 The first book made me sob like a baby and this one did make me cry I admit it. :’) While the first book is probably always going to have the biggest place in my heart, this was a fantastic read, and I LOVE that he went back to show us the very first Death Day and how it impacted the first person who was ever called for it. I definitely have more questions on the actual process so if he wants to pull back even further to the creation of the concept I’d gladly take it lmaooo

The Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams: 4/5 So this is why I’m at 30-31 books - I read The Ultimate Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy that has all five books in the same book; since I finished the first book in January I’ll go add it here and it was just *chef’s kiss*. Zany, funny, I finally get that damn “the answer to life is 42″ joke. For some reason I’d die for Arthur Dent. Etcetera. 

All Other Books: 

Non-Fiction:  I didn’t have a number scale for two of them; I felt a little bit weird rating both of them, so I’ve just linked my reviews instead!

The Rose That Grew From Concrete by Tupac Shakur: Review

Spare by Prince Harry: 3.25/5 Sometimes he has points but good lord the privilege was ;aklfj;lafka;;flakj bro can we stop defending the monarchy lol

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou: 4/5 I don’t know why but I thouhgt these were fiction until I actually went to go check out the book lmaoo

Naturally Tan by Tan France: 3.75/5

If You Tell: a True Story of Murder, Family, Secrets, and the Unbreakable Bond of Sisterhood by Gregg Olsen: Review

Fiction: 

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett: 3.25/5 I know, I know, I’m sorry. Just wasn’t really for me. 

This Spell Can’t Last by Isabel Sterling: 3/5 It’s a short prequel book for a series I really had fun with called These Witches Won’t Burn! The prequel was fine. I wouldn’t suggest you pick it up without knowing the series but yeah

The Paris Apartment by Lucy Foley: 3/5 I’m kinda surprised I rated it that high in hindsight lmao

Gaslight by J.E. Rowney: 2.5/5

Paper Planes by Jennie Wood with Dozerdraws: 2.75/5 (the art was lovely though)

The Aosawa Murders by Riku Onda with Alison Watts (translator): 3.6-3.75/5

Burn the Negative by Josh Winning: 3.5/5

I Was Born for This by Alice Oseman: 3/5 (again, sorry lmao)

Not By Blood by Chris Narozny: 3/5 

Miss Muriel and Other Stories by Ann Petry: 3.5/5 I think I need to stop reading short stories because they’re always at around a 3 and it’s just not always a fair rating. Some stories I absolutely LOVE. Others? Ehhhh not so much. 

Why Are You Like This? by Meg Adams: 4/5 

It Starts With Us by Colleen Hoover: 3.75/5 tbh, I think the more I think about the book the lower I’m going to rate it, but for now I’ll keep this original rating

Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion: 3.75/5

The Magic Fish by Trung Le Nguyen: 4.75/5 Beautiful art as well <3

The Private Apartments by Idman Nur Omar: 3.5/5

I Know What You Did by Cayce Osborne: 2.75/5

Through the Woods by Emily Carroll: 3.75/5

Trouble in Mudbug by Jana DeLeon: 3/5

The Last Man by Vince Flynn: 2/5

All Your Perfects by Colleen Hoover: 3.5/5 This couple needed hardcore therapy and most importantly a divorce 

The Devil’s Music by Nathan Page: 3.75/5

Nightbitch by Rachel Yoder: 3/5

[stanielman]

Chapter Seven: The Massacre at Hawkins Lab

- oh I wish Jonathan was here to get in on the teen fun

- Someone looks like they could be an open target for the mind Flayer with all the attaching those bats did. Let’s get that son of a bitch back in here

- THE WOODS! ARE WE GOING BACK TO S1 GATE?!! PLEASE SAY YES!!!!

- Owens is right dude

- “The door is always open”?? She’s tried to escape twice and you haven’t let her

- “I have guns in my bedroom” I love her

- Uh it’s been like twenty minutes since we last saw Will and Mike. How are they doing??

- I better not see people shipping Hopper and this Russian

- I just missed whatever Hopper’s revelation was and I don’t really want to rewind and figure out what it was

- Someone to fill in the gaps?! Like Kali….nah probably not

- Oh it’s not a real life one

- SERIOUSLY WHERE IS THE CALI GANG? Watch them get two fricken scenes in this final episode

- I thought the air in the upside down was toxic (except for Will Byers) but they’re all just fine and not even trying

- Don’t tell me that Eddie has a crush on Steve. Wait a minute. Am I dreaming??

- Ah no he’s just a wing man trying to ruin Jancy

- What is this toy Holly has? Is she an iPad kid

- WHATS UNDER LUCAS’ BED?!! WHAT KIND OF FCKING PORN DOES HE LOOK AT 😭😭

- Yes Dr Pepper the superior soda thank you Karen Wheeler

- Oh thank goodness they tied this back to the Mind Flayer. Thank you guys so much

- *me scrolling through the episode to see if Mike and Will are in the rest. They aren’t. And I got lots of spoilers*

- Oh shit time has stopped. That explains the clocks!!

- Oh wait I can’t. They did Not make a full episode without Mike and Will. That is not okay. Like not because “Aw they’re my favorite characters” but because they are two of the most central characters. Will IS literally THE central character until they threw him away. And Mike has been the protagonist this entire time, being right up with Joyce and Hopper with the mystery solving. Like is this not messed up to anyone else? I am so glad that they are giving other characters a chance to be in the spotlight and be the heroes and solve the mystery, but does that have to be at the cost of taking away your other characters? Let’s grab Jonathan and Mike, title cast members since season one and now they’re replaced by season two additions like Steve or Max. We have Will who was made a title cast member in season two now being replaced by season three additions like Erica and Robin. I just don’t understand what his show is racing towards. If your characters don’t seem compelling enough to take on different evils, if your storylines aren’t interesting enough that they can be left out of HOUR AND A HALF LONG EPISODES then maybe you need to do a few rewrites before piling more on top to cover it up

- I’m so angry

- Ah it’s a lite brite

- Oh so Will doesn’t have any powers? Got it.

- You can’t play “tender, emotional music” whenever will and mike look at each other AND when jopper reunite. You see what you’re doing here, right?!

- HES NUMBER ONE

- LETS GO OKAY WE’RE BACK

- So wait did El not do shit?!

- Wait fucking tell me right now this is Henry Creel

- Oh shit Nancy’s gone

- ^^kidding. remember how I said I was spoiled? Yeah she gets taken by Vecna

- Oh yeah this is some Stephen King shit. Torture the woman with blood!!

- I want this to be Henry Creel so bad. Taken over by the evil that terrorized his family and then killing others the same way his mother and sister died

- Like it all has to be connected to Vecna, their deaths look the same. And it was super weird that Henry Creel was individually commented on with his dad saying he was “sensitive” and then never talking about him seeing anything weird. And then he didn’t die the same way as the rest of them, he slipped into a coma and then “died” OR WAS KIDNAPPED

- Like what if Henry Creel is Vecna though too. He did that to his family

- I want everything if I’m right. And by everything I mean for Will to come out NOW

- WAIT AM I RIGHT?!!!!

- I AM ARENT I!!!!!!!

- oh my gosh my mind

- thx duffers <3

- No way he’s Spider-Man

- Oh El way to ruin everything. You TRANSPORTED HIM

- And opened the gate uh oh spaghettio

- You’re going to tell me it’s still fucking tattooed there

- No

- Man that’s it. Wow.

- I didn’t see Will or Mike in the goddamn teaser what world is this that they’re so unimportant

[starlingsrps]

hate to be lame.

it takes forever for a phone call to reach dorey. she can’t get calls at bletchley and mrs. barnes doesn’t think that an unmarried young lady should receive phone calls from anyone but family, nor does she allow for much phone access in the first place. jessa and her mother are the only people dorey dares to give the number to and anyone else will simply have to follow a labyrinthine protocol.

one must first call jessa who then calls mrs. barnes. mrs. barnes then tells her that jessa called when she gets home from her shifts, when and if she remembers. if dorey is very lucky, mrs. barnes has written down who it is trying to reach her but more often, she has to call jessa to try to comb her memory for who may have phoned her anywhere from one day to two weeks ago. it’s a truly terrible system but dorey reminds herself that it keeps her from being distracted.

god knows how long ago jessa called her last but dorey has just gotten home when mrs. barnes pops out of the kitchen and scares the blessed hell out of her. “your sister called to tell you to call your man.”

“i don’t have a-“ she pauses and remembers. right, sid. she still doesn’t but that feels more like a technicality. a few notes here, the overnight when he’d been at bletchley doesn’t make him her man and she’s certainly not going throw all of her hopes into a cockpit with him. “when did she call?”

mrs barnes scratches her chin and looks at the ceiling. “when did fairfax come back?”

dorey presses her lips together and tries to remember to be patient. if other people remember the days based on their own activities or the movements of the war, mrs. barnes remembers based on her afternoon programs. when she’d first moved in, dorey had thought fairfax was a neighborhood cat or some such rather than a plummy voiced actor in a studio. “i don’t remember, i’m sorry. i’ll give her a shout, thank you.”

“is it the american?”

how the hell would a woman who dorey has to shout at half the time know that the man she’d brought back over a month ago is american? mrs. barnes, she is beginning to suspect, hears a lot more than she pretends to. 

“mrs. barnes isn’t it time for holly harbor?”

“not for another hour, love. go call your man.  got a back garden same as my chester.”

dorey absolutely does not want to know who chester was, nor does she want to hear more about the similarities between sid and the presumably dead chester. she shuffles mrs. barnes off to the sitting room and promises to not be long on the phone. any blasted illusions of privacy she has in this place have been blown to hell by her landlady revealing herself to not only be selectively hard of hearing but also, quite likely, a pervert.

it takes what feels like forever to back track - to call jessa to get the number sid had left, to call base to request to speak to him, to wait for him to be tracked down. it’s enough time for a hollow pit of anxiety to form in her stomach. she presumes that the switchboard would have advised her if he were missing or dead or some other terrible alternative. they would tell her - not telling her would be incredibly rude.

“halstead.”

his voice is a notch lower than usual and he sounds incredibly serious but the pit fills itself in. “jessa sends her love.”

“dorey?” his voice goes back to normal. “i called a week ago. did she just-“

“mrs. barnes,” she says by way of explanation. “she also sends her love and says you’ve got an ass like chester.”

“who the fuck is chester?”

“i think we’re both better not knowing.”

“maybe.” he sounds unconvinced.

“it’s either a dead husband, a character on holly harbor, or a cat.”

“i don’t think i’m very catlike.”

“no, you do have a very canine energy. anyway, you called?”

“do you have any time coming up?” he asks. 

“i really don’t”, she says. “not for awhile.”

not even a little bit of a scrap of an imagined weekend to herself and not for the foreseeable future. she hasn’t seen jessa in a month, her parents longer, and her world is hut six to bed and back again. she could, maybe, steal and borrow her way into a day just to see him. certainly not as far as london but they could, in theory, find a middle. cambridge maybe. no, that’d be ridiculous. keep calm and carry on and all that, don’t go running off to the middle of wherever to fuck an american pilot.

he pauses for a long moment, enough time for her to wonder if the call has dropped. “something’s happening, isn’t it?”

dorey has learned that it’s better to say absolutely nothing than even say maybe. her thumbnail finds a peeling edge of the wallpaper and she starts to pick. she makes the most non-committal noise she can muster instead. 

there is something happening. there are, in fact, many things happening. the invasion is imminent and for weeks, they’ve been intercepting on site and dorey feels like she’s barely finished decrypting one message before the next lands in front of her. she comes home to sleep and she’s started smoking again if only to put the tension somewhere and kill her appetite so she can work longer. she shouldn’t feel guilty. she’s doing her job. if all goes to plan, he’d be cancelling any plans they made anyway. 

“i am sorry,” she says finally.  

“dorey, it’s fine. i can keep myself busy.” his voice is easy, her apology rolling right off of him. “remember? war?”

it is very, very hard for her to forget the war but it makes her smile a little all the same. “right. maybe july?”

“sure, if i’m still alive.”

“i really wish you wouldn’t say that.”

“and why’s that, dorey?”

she hears it. it’s the tonal equivalent to her sleeping burrowed against his back and the funny way he smiles at her when she’s explaining something. it’s fondness. she won’t call it anything else. if she puts any stronger of a word on it, she’ll perish of embarrassment. “because calling you an idiot brightens my day.” she’s all but ripped off a full strip of wallpaper now. she won’t tie her hopes to a cockpit, she reminds herself. “and that’s all.”

“of course it is.”

“sid-“

“dore, i need you to not say anything i’m going to be thinking about instead of flying the damn plane. i’ll see you when i see you.”

“just be safe then.”

“be right and i don’t have to be.”

she rolls her eyes. “then don’t be stupid.”

“asking an awful lot but i’ll try.”

“and i’ll see you when i see you."

[craftboxsys]

district memories of managers master list

because like, two of my friends were actively curious and encouraged me to talk about my memories of the managers, so! i guess we'll start with the more tame of the two sets of memories. also heads up, these are mostly just for people i actively remember being around a lot or have actual memories of. uhh, people like cosmo, belle, tawney, holly, etc. aren't included because i was never around them enough to have an actual input on them as cogs.

anyways! memories under the cut. it starts with clash mems in green then my district in red.

benjamin biggs; very into sharing drama with people, i've listened to him maybe 5-6 times just go off about a set of cogs and then told me about rain & derrick man. outside of that i didn't really talk to him much? i've heard more from other toons if anything like how he's a bitch to fight because half the time he just taunts people then gets really loud with the stupid ringing.

buck ruffler; i more ran into buck a lot because we both had a mutual attachment to gambling. like, we became friends (sorta) over me running into him to play slots or something. quack was really fun to be around, really loud like me. we both matched each others energies really intensely and if anyone else was around they'd get annoyed super fucking fast. uhh buck didn't really give a shit that i broke the filter and thought it was really funny, we'd get into cussing matches in the server when it was dead so i didn't get caught by pete /silly

chip revvington; was NOT a fan of me by any means, i'm a horrible influence on pancake so he'd get really annoyed when he found out i was hanging out with her a lot. not to mention i was her SISTER FIGURE? outrageous! uhh, chip tended to be really quiet and reserved when we were alone though, it was really awkward but there were a few times when i was upset that he actually dropped the "i hate you" act and just kind of awkwardly asked me if i was okay and if he could help at all. i didn't really know what to do but it usually lead to just me being held. even if he hated me he kinda sucked at it /silly

dave brubot; really weird friendship with this guy. i hit him with a golf cart, he emoted, and slid/ran off for a good couple weeks before i'd see him again. uhh, met up again after i'd tripped and got squashed by a flowerpot? i got scooped up, dusted off, and set back down on the ground like nothing happened. can't remember what he said to me but it was probably something something are you okay or something. not quite like that, that's not the brubot fashion but yeah. he left again when i was sure i was alright, gave me his number, and i just kind of held onto it for a couple months? i didn't do anything with it, i just focused on my tasks for the most part before getting to the kudos board for mezzos melodyland and really just kinda went "huh. i forgot i had this." to the number? called it on the phone later that night and nobody picked up. but i think that was because he was performing, i later got a whisper from pancake about it asking if i called hymn. and uh, yeah. i got teased for a while about having his number and all that but we became really close friends. i'd go and visit him out of the blue during the day since his shows were at night. we just did a bunch of useless shit together a lot of the times, it was really fun... kind of domestic. i miss hymn, he's goofy as hell.

misty monsoon; i don't remember a whole ton about misty but i do remember us not liking each other at all for a period of time. uh, we sat down eventually and just started talking on the docks together. talked about exes, life goals, what we want to see out of the world... kind of just deep conversations. i asked her about mary since they were together and she told me about how their relationship is. i got advice from her about some other things and got told to never change who i am for anyone else. people'll love me if they see past all my dumb shit anyways and stick by my side if they really do care.

graham & flint bonpyre; the two of them were married in the clash mems i have, they're very very closeknit with each other. i used to steal stuff from graham's place in spite for like, the LONGEST time. pancake and flint both had to keep convincing me to bring things back myself and apologize in person, but then graham would go and taunt me about it. so, we kind of had this on/off frenemy situation going on. shakes my fist, clash graham you're a bitch!!!!!! as for flint he was generally really nice to me, he and pancake were in a qpr with each other so i saw flint more than graham. we'd chat with each other from time to time but otherwise i really didn't run around or into him too often. i'd stop and say hi if i saw him on the street over time because of pancake.

cathal bravecog; barely remember cathal but he was cool, we'd hangout pretty often just to play video games or just watch tv. i had a tendency to just pass out on his floor or the desk when we were in the middle of watching a movie or something on the longer side of things for time frame things. shrugs, would have to say? pretty cool guy tbh.

and now... onto the general gist of my district managers. i'm not typing out individual things like i did for clash memories because my head's starting to hurt trying to force myself to remember this stuff, but: like i said in the one post before about them all being their own brands of insane? yeah. that's really not far off. so far the only one i've really typed up anything for is graham because i was in and out of lullaby lane a lot since it connected to mezzos melody land.

graham, holly, prester, etc. were all programmed to be more of promotional kinds of bots. like, living... walking talking advertisements for human corporations or the idea of human corporations abroad. graham was more humanoid compared to the rest of the managers because he was meant to be like, a physical model or representation of humans to the toons since humans didn't frequent in toontown enough for everyone to be aware of them.

i don't remember exactly what all corporations they were promoting but it was probably a mix of a bunch of bullshit. i think a majority of my memories were just being involved in maybe one or two of their personal lives (chip and flint through pancake) and anyone else i hardly knew outside of running into them on the off chance i was out and about in their assigned playground districts.

i wanna say out of all of them i've seen mary the most? we're friends (ish) because of the one case i had that weaponized a cog with dip and was blasting toons with it in barnacle boatyard. it was contaminating the water so i had to work with a group of other people in the detective agency to figure out what the fuck to do to get this thing out of here. then mary rolls up and blasts it with a shit ton of water when it's core was exposed. so yeah, good relationship with mary at the very least. that and i wanna say dave and i were on really neutral terms in my district.

i'd swing by from time to time like clash mems but we didn't do much, it was more to just check if anything new happened related to a really long open case. uhh, i think i saw more of the managers after i stopped the detective things but they were all literally so fucking crazy at times it was a little off putting & scary.

not to mention there was a weird bug floating around for a while that transferred override codes to a couple of the other managers. chip didn't mean for that one to happen but it just did, he wasn't programmed with the override to begin with. if i remember right, he had something put in him when he was taken out in a fight maybe once. the details were really limited on that.

anything else relating to them were from things i'd heard on the offhand.

additionally for stuff with buck since i'm pretty sure people know from the past posts i've made on him that i have strong feelings towards my districts buck because, well uh... he's tried to kill me a decent few times.