#so why not go all out and instead of the character accidentally stepping into a hunting utensil

[so-you-melted-22]

i just watched three minutes of the most uncomfortable usamerican republican hunter youtube video, just to find out how to get out of a bear trap.

the things i do in the name of writing-research.

[blorbologist]

Y'know, I think I figured out why the Hells still feel like a new low-level party to me, even though they're level 13 and almost 100 episodes in.

I don't quite think it's the lack of conversations, or the fact half the party's plot hooks are big ties to past campaigns - though that definitely plays a part.

... Bell's Hells still primarily rely on quest givers.

Most of their goals are given to them and do not feel organic to the party, and constantly remind us that the Hells are pretty much never the most powerful people in the room. Which is usually something you see with a low-level party.

NPCs offering jobs is not a bad thing; it's a very common plot hook. Matt has been extremely skilled with using NPC quest givers in those two campaigns. Not only do they provide an obvious plot thread, but they can put the party in the path of others (say, the Nein running into the Iron Shepherds while doing a job for the Gentleman and everything that came of that). And the Hells had a solid start with it too - Eshteross was an excellent quest giver!

The problem is that Bell's Hells have never really not had a quest giver.

Maybe it's a byproduct of the more plot-heavy structure of this campaign? But while prior parties have felt like they decided on their course of action and what they prioritized, Bell's Hells feels less like level 13 (13! Level 13!) experienced adventurers and more like an MMO group clicking on the exclamation point over an NPC's head. Where does the plot demand we go next? Who do we report back to?

They're level 13.

At level 13, Vox Machina had just defeated a necromantic city-state to clear their name and Percy's conscience. And, you know, the Conclave just destroyed Emon. No one was explicitly telling the group to gather Vestiges and save the world (though Matt guided them there), and they were usually among the most powerful people in the room. They chose which Vestiges to prioritize, which dragons to tackle when, even if the over-all plot was pretty clear.

At level 13, the Mighty Nein were celebrating Traveler Con (another PC goal, I'll note) after brokering peace between two nations, accidentally becoming pirates and heroes of the Dynasty. The Nein regularly chose what to do based on personal goals, not grand ones. Though definitely smaller fish than Vox Machina at this level, they were very independent and gaining solid political clout.

While we're at it: level 13 is one level lower than the Ring of Brass, who had a huge amount of sway over Avalir. They ended the world, and also saved it, while in the grand scheme of things being only a smidge more powerful than Bell's Hells are now.

Can you really see the Hells wielding that amount of influence, when they're constantly being told what to do next?

The god-eater might be unleashed, so Bell's Hells have no time to do anything but what is asked of them. No time for therapy unless stolen from Feywild time, no travel on foot and late-night watches. They haven't even had time to grieve FCG. Percy was grieved in the middle of the Conclave arc. Molly was grieved when half the party was still in irons.

Matt is in the very unfortunate spot of not being able to give the Hells the same agency as the other two parties. Not only because of the world-ending plot introduced so early on; they are surrounded by characters they know (and the cast knows) are stronger and wiser than them - the familiarity of the past PCs and NPCs is to their disadvantage.

Why would the party reasonably ignore Keyleth's task that will help save the world and go off on a romp? Why would the cast when they know well Keyleth has to be sensible and with the best intentions in mind? The stakes are just too high.

It means that the Hells still feel like they're running errands instead of pursuing their own destiny. Their accomplishments are diminished as just being parts of a to-do list, and any stakes feel padded by several level 20 PCs/NPCs standing 5 steps away ready to catch them.

This isn't Bell's Hell's fault, nor is it Matt's. It could be amended, I think, if the Hells are really left to their own devices for a long period of time without support and shortcuts (like during the party split)... which would be really tricky to pull off at this point in the campaign.

They're level 13. They're big fish, but they're stuck in a pond full of friendly sharks, so they don't feel big at all.

[reareaotaku]

Shut Up, Stu

Summary: Y/n accidentally killed Randy in front of [Stu] Ghostface, catching him off guard and you get away. Everyone thinks it was Ghostface who did it, but you're confronted when Stu accidentally slips that he knows. Characters: Yandere! Stu Macher x Fem! Reader x Yandere! Billy Loomis Tw: Blackmail, Murder, Death, Violence, Horror, Cheating Mentioned Probably going to have to make a Part 2, because there is no way this is complete. I did this months ago... Needed it out of drafts

Your feet slide on the bitter cold tiles; The freezing wet sensation of blood covering in between your toes. You could hear the click of the killer following you, but you couldn't look back. You held a sharp, serrated knife, blood dripping from the tip. You limped your way to an island counter, before pulling yourself together.

The adrenaline was pumping through your veins, which might be why when you heard Ghostface groan your name, you started swinging the knife. You just kept stabbing and stabbing, until the blood soaked your clothes. But you weren't standing over Ghostface. Infact, it was one of your friends, Randy Meeks.

You gasp, covering your mouth and you hear laughing. You look up at the serial killer. You had never thought you could kill someone; Why, you couldn't even kill a spider, even though they scared you.

"I didn't think you had it in you, Y/n," He laughs, as if he's telling a joke.

"It was an accident." You shook your head, "I didn't mean it," You bent over to Randy, putting your hand over his wound, "It was an accident-"

"An accident? An unexpected pregnancy is an accident."

You look down at your hands, which were covered in blood. You were going to have to get rid of your shirt and your pants. Oh god, you couldn't go to prison.... You push past Ghostface, who was much more preoccupied in your [Potential] murder victim than you.

-----

You were covered in blood as you walked the streets. You heard a honk and looked behind to see a red Mustang that's headlights were bright in your face. You held your body close as the car slowly pulled up to you. It was Billy.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

Your body shook and you couldn't speak. You were still in shock from what you had done. Billy opens the door and motions for you to get in. You looked around, before realizing that maybe it would be better if you went with him instead of the sheriff.

"So?" He tilts his head, but you don't say anything.

What could you say? You had killed Randy?

"You seem shaken up." You feel his hand on your thigh, causing you to finally look at him. "Your blood?"

He stops the car, looking at you. It was dark and the only light was from inside his car.

"No, it's not. I did.... Something bad."

"You? Bad?" He laughs, "Yeah right. Little Miss Perfect Goody Toe Shoes? What'd you do? Accidentally step-"

"I killed Randy Meeks."

His eyes widen and mouth drops, before he slowly nods his head, "Okay.... Um, well- That was unexpected. Where is his body?"

"Stu's house."

"Okay," He taps the wheel, "It'll be fine. Don't worry about it."

"I can't go to jail," You fiddle with your blood-soaked blouse. "I didn't mean to. Jail would kill me. God-"

"It's fine, Y/n. You're not going to jail. Don't worry about it."

"But-"

He grabs your shoulder, "Think of it as a favor."

-----

"And she just kept stabbing him."

Billy rolls his eyes, pulling on his sleeve. "So, what did you do with the body? He wasn't there."

"Hung him like a Christmas Light."

Billy chuckles, "She was walking the streets, terrified. Why didn't you stop her or something?"

"I was so shocked," Stu jumps on the bed, "I didn't think she could do something like that."

"Anyone can murder if pushed far enough."

----

You felt like all eyes were on you. Like everyone knew your dark secret. How could anyone live with such guilt? The guilt of death.

"Damn, what's got you wound up so tight, lil mama?"

You nearly jumped when the voice came out of nowhere, along with an arm swung around you. Stu pulled you in close and you can feel his breath on your neck.

"Nothing. Why would you think something's bothering me?"

"You just seem... on edge."

You turned towards the voice, seeing Sideny now walking by you. You shook your head, "It's fine. I'm fine."

Sidney didn't believe you, but she decided to not question it with everyone else around you.

----

Lunch was weird, without Randy having his arm wrapped around you, trying to flirt with you. How could you hurt him? Your mind was filled and you weren't listening to your friends. That was until you felt a hand grab you.

"Are you listening?"

Your eyes widened and you looked down at your hands, "Yeah. Sorry, what were you saying?"

"Randy was killed last night. He was found hanging in Stu's house."

You looked towards Stu, who shrugged, "Imagine my surprise coming home to that," He jokes, kissing Tatum, who pushes him off.

"I was surprised he was dead, but the guy was a jerk. Actually, I thought he was the one behind Ghostface," Tatum fiddles with her purse. "He didn't deserve to die, though."

"Yeah... He didn't," You frown and you could feel Billy's eyes on you, but he wasn't the only one looking at you.

----

The end of the day came to soon. You didn't know how anyone could just go on about their day with people being killed.... And Randy. Your gut twisted and you felt the icky feeling growing in your stomach.

A hand grabs you from behind, freaking you out. Before you can scream though, you're bombarded by Stu.

"What the hell, Stu. What's wrong with you."

"Damn, sorry babe. You seem so on edge."

You huff at the nickname. He had a girlfriend and here he was calling you babe. You didn't like it. "I'm not on edge."

"How about you come to my place? Just me and you."

"Your place? Alone?" You let out a muffled chuckle, "Yeah, right. Sounds like a great idea-"

"Great, I'll pick you up at 7."

"Wait what-"

He takes off and you are forced to shove down your concerns and arguments.

---

You had thought you would be alone with Stu, but thankfully someone else was there. Unfortunately, it was Billy. You felt like they were staring at you and a part of you wondered if they knew, but they couldn't know... Could they?

[stevie-petey]

episode five: the flea and the acrobat

“Steve, what-” He pushes past you in a frenzied hurry to get to his car, but you grab his jacket and force him to stop. “Answer me! Is Nancy okay? Was Jonathan with her?” Steve whips around and sneers at you. “Why do you even care about them? About him?” “Because we’re friends,” you say, and for the first time you really mean it. Nancy has become someone you’d call a friend.  Another cruel laugh escapes Steve’s lips. “Friends, huh? Yeah, those two looked real fucking cozy in her bed.”

summary: you and dustin have a long overdue Sibling Moment, at will's funeral you and jonathan exchange information and surprise ! it's all horrible news ! nancy has awful timing and when you leave her alone with jonathan one damn time you and steve end up trauma bonded on her front porch #bffs.

rating: general, though there's the use of guns in here for plot point sake, as well as cursing

warnings: use of guns, cursing, fem!reader, and use of y/n.

words: 14.4k (whew)

before you swing in: i'm back gang ! fall semester is almost done and i am in the trenches, so i leave y'all with this monster of a chapter before hell week (i have three finals in one day next week, no i don't want to talk about it). please enjoy this beauty, i had so much fun messing with character relationships in this and it was very ;)

-

With how many times you’ve knocked on the Wheeler’s door this week, you’d think that Mrs. Wheeler would stop looking so surprised when she answers. 

“Y/N?”

You give the woman a small smile. “Hi, Mrs. Wheeler. Is, uh, Mike home?”

“Yes… he stayed home today because of Will. Is there something you need?” The usually friendly woman seems beaten down from this week’s events as well, which you’re understanding of. 

“I was wondering if I could come in and see how he’s doing? Dustin is really shaken up about it, so I figured…” You shrug, trying to come across as a concerned older sister figure rather than a worried and horrible babysitter who should really retire. 

Mrs. Wheeler places a hand over her heart. “Oh, Y/N. You’ve always been so good with the boys, of course you can check on him. It means a lot that you care.”

Oh, no problem, but if we’re being honest I’m here because I’m scared I accidentally let your son get involved with the supernatural and dangerous monster men thingies that I honestly can’t wrap my head around!

Of course you can’t tell the woman this, so instead you thank her and let yourself in. Immediately you head towards the basement and fling the door open. You like Mrs. Wheeler, but the amount of times her son has snuck out of the house without her noticing honestly concerns you, so you’re a bit unsure if Mike even is home.

You get deja-vu from a few days ago as you head down the basement steps, once again hearing the three boys panicking as they try to hide El. Unlike last time, which had only annoyed you, seeing them scramble to hide the girl makes you relieved. 

They’re here, alive and well. You’d let Steve distract you from your worrying on the drive over, so the relief hits you like a damn truck. 

“Oh god not again!” Dustin groans when he sees you, worried that he’s once again going to get yelled at for being at the Wheeler’s with El. 

You ignore his theatrics and walk over to the girl, who is laying face down on the couch. You notice that she’s dressed in one of Nancy’s old costumes and a blonde wig that suits her well. What the hell did the kids get up to today? 

“Do I want to know why El is dressed like a doll and almost passed out on the couch?” 

“That depends on if you’re going to yell at us again,” Mike says. 

You shoot him a glare, but you guess he has a point. The last few times you’ve been with the kids you’ve ended up yelling at them one way or another. You feel bad about that, but then again: they won’t stop getting into trouble. 

El manages to raise her head from the couch, “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, sweetie,” you approach the couch and gently nudge her to the side so that you can sit down and place her head on your lap. She nuzzles into your warmth and lets out a sleepy sigh. “And to answer your question, Mike: I’m not here to yell at you guys. I just… Please tell me what’s been going on. I know I haven’t been here for you guys like I should’ve, but-”

“Your boyfriend needed you more,” Mike quips, though there’s some resentment in his voice that causes you to feel even worse.

Dustin hits his shoulder against the boy. “He isn’t her boyfriend, but she couldn’t just abandon him; he needed her. Besides, we have been sneaking off without telling her anything.” 

You cast an appreciative smile at your brother, thankful that even though he’s a pain in your ass, he always has your back like you do his. It’s something he’s always done with you and Mike; being so similar, you and him are constantly butting heads, yet Dustin has always been the first to defend you against his friend (even if you’ve never needed it in the first place). 

“I’m sorry, okay? I messed up, but I’m here now and I really, really need to know if I’m being paranoid. What mess did you dweebs manage to get into?”

The three boys suddenly can’t look at you. Their heads turn in different directions, Lucas scratches the back of his neck, Mike kicks at a board piece on the ground, and Dustin whistles a tune. 

Your shoulders slump. “Is it that bad?”

“It started this morning,” 

“Lucas!”

“Mike, she could help us! The weirdo clearly likes her,” he gestures over to El practically asleep in your lap, “plus, she’s the only sane one left in this group. I need backup.” 

“Backup?” You ask. 

Mike throws his head back in annoyance and lets out a groan as if he’s dying. Truly, this kid is the most dramatic person you’ve ever met. “Fine, we’ll tell you everything if you agree to stop hounding us for sneaking around. Will is missing, he’s our friend, and no one in the party gets left behind.”

You think this over for a moment, weighing the pros and cons in your head. “I will agree to those terms if you guys agree to keep me updated on everything at all times.” 

The boys try to argue, but you don’t let them. 

“I mean it, another person is missing. Nancy’s friend, Barb, was in the same woods that Will was, the same woods that you guys keep insisting on trekking through without supervision. This is serious, guys. Whatever, or whoever, is out there… it’s dangerous, and I-” You swallow down some tears that claw against your throat. “I can’t lose anyone else, okay?” 

The mood in the room is solemn, the three boys silent as your words hang in the air. Naturally, you try to lighten things up. “I’ll deny this if anyone asks, but unfortunately I love you boys.” 

As expected, they immediately begin to gag and pretend that they’ve been impaled with something as they all scream “ew” and “yuck” at your words. You laugh, which causes El to laugh as well, and for a moment it feels like nothing has changed. 

“So?” You ask after the boys have finished their gross theatrics. 

Dustin is the one who makes the decision for them. “We promise to keep you updated, for real this time.” 

“Good, now again I ask: why is El dressed like a doll and half asleep on my lap as we speak?” 

Lucas, Dustin, and Mike begin to talk all at once. 

“Mike radioed for me to head over, claiming he heard Will on the walkie.”

“Yeah, and then they radioed me to join. Sorry, by the way. I would’ve woken you up, but you and Jonathan looked so cozy in your bed so-”

“I thought you said they weren’t dating?”

“Not now, Mike.”

It continues like this for a while as they explain everything they did today. Sneaking El into the school, having to to talk to Mr. Clark, attending the assembly for Will, Mike fighting some idiotic kids for making fun of him before El made the head bully pee himself. 

You look down at the girl in your lap. “You can really make people pee themselves?”

“Sometimes,” she shrugs. 

“Lovely.” 

“That’s what you focus on, Y/N?” Mike asks you, and you simply shrug your shoulders in response. Sue you for still having doubts about Will being alive, you’ve gotten your hopes up one too many times. 

“Are you suggesting I believe that you heard Will through your cheap little walkies?” 

Dustin puts his head in his hands in defeat while Lucas gestures over to you. “See, she’s the sane backup I need.” 

Mike groans at you once more. “No, that’s why we snuck El into the radio room and used the heathkit that Mr. Clark got us. Keep up!”

“What, did you tell the guy that El was a new student?” 

“Don’t be stupid, we told Mr. Clark that she’s my cousin.” 

“Uhh, Y/N,” Dustin laughs nervously, motioning for you to stop talking. “You promised you’d be cool about everything if we told you.”

Knowing that your brother is right, you deflate a bit against the couch and start playing with El’s hair. “I am being cool, I just have so many questions.”

“Oh, just wait.” Lucas snorts. 

Mike now crosses the room to stand in front of you, as if he’s gearing up to tell you some major news. “We heard Will on the heathkit. El, she managed to use her powers to communicate with him.”

Like always, the seriousness in his voice concerns yet intrigues you. “Lucas, do you really believe that it was Will?”

The boy nods at you, his face grim. You don’t like how scared he looks, because out of the entire group he’s the one who is always the most reasonable. If he’s willingly telling you that he thinks it was Will, then you have to start taking the situation at hand seriously. 

“Okay, tell me exactly what you guys heard.”

And they do. One by one they tell you about Will’s pleading for his mom, telling her that it’s like home but cold and dark, the banging that followed after his words, how El had used so much of her energy trying to maintain the communication before the radio caught fire and she was too exhausted to do much else. 

“So, you believe us now?” Mike asks after you’re silent for a moment. 

You look down at the girl in your lap, in awe that someone so small and shy could hold so much power. This time you believe what the boys tell you without much conviction. Now that you know that Barb is missing as well, lost in the same woods as Will, the same woods where you found El, the photos from Nancy and the figure she claims she saw… It’s all starting to come together. 

You’re not sure exactly what you’re caught up in, but you know it’s too late to back out. Whatever is going on, whatever thing took Will and transported him to some unknown place with possibly the same powers that El has, you know it’s your responsibility to handle it. 

“Yes,” you respond, and the boys all sigh with relief. “Just one question though,”

Dustin sighs. “Yes, Y/N?”

“How did it take you guys so long to set fire to the school? Honestly, Jonathan and I thought it’d happen sooner.” 

“You’re hilarious.” Mike deadpans, which only causes you and El to giggle together again. 

“I hate to ruin the good mood, but we seriously need to figure out what Will meant when he said that wherever he is ‘is like home’.” Your brother interrupts. 

Mike spins to face him. “He said, ‘like home, but dark’, right?”

“And ‘empty’.” Lucas adds. 

“‘Empty’ and ‘cold’. Wait, did he say cold?” Dustin asks the group.

You nod your head. “You mentioned cold earlier.”

Lucas throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “The stupid radio kept going in and out!” 

“It’s like riddles in the dark…” Your brother sighs, which you hum in agreement to. 

Will’s words were pretty vague, but you wish you had been there at the middle school as well. Maybe if you had heard the tone of Will’s voice, you’d be of more help.

Mike continues to mumble about “like home” and “dark” for a few more seconds, now pacing around the room. You watch from the couch, El still resting with her head in your lap, and as you’re playing with her hair she finally speaks up after having been silent for a while. 

“Upside down.”

“What’d she say?” Lucas asks.

“Upside down? I guess?” Is all you can tell him. 

“What?” 

While you, Dustin, and Lucas are confused by El’s words, Mike rushes over to the forgotten board from a few days ago and sits down. He frantically flips it over and motions for you to come and join him. You hesitate for a second, but he only doubles down on his waving you over, so you gently lift El’s head up and walk over. 

“God, took you long enough.”

“I was literally three feet away from you on the couch, why did I have to move?”

Mike ignores your question and begins to explain the thirty million thoughts flying through his head at the moment, “When El showed us where Will was, she flipped the board over, remember?” 

You nod, slowly understanding where he’s going with this. “She flipped it upside down.”

“Exactly! Dark. Empty.” 

Lucas looks over at you and Dustin, unamused. “Do you understand what he’s talking about?”

“No,” your brother says at the same time as you saying “the upside down part? Yes. The dark and empty part? No.”

Mike tries to explain further. “Guys, come on, think about it. When El took us to find Will, she took us to his house, right?” 

“You mean last night when they found Will’s body in the water?” You ask, not really understanding where Mike is going with all this. 

“Like Y/N said, he wasn’t there.” Lucas reminds everyone, but Mike still tries to get his point across.

“But what if he was there? What if we just couldn’t see him, what if he was on the other side?”

You think about Jonathan’s words from earlier today in the car while on the way to the funeral home, trying to calm down from his fight with his mom. He had told you about how Joyce was convinced that Will was in the walls within their home, that the body they saw in the morgue hadn’t been his. 

“Hold on,” you interrupt Mike, “you guys said that there was some, like, banging where Will was, right? And that he had been begging his mom to come get him?” 

“Yeah, it was like some sick sci-fi movie!” 

You glare at your brother. “Ignoring you. Anyways, did you guys hear Mrs. Byers on the radio as well?” 

Mike shakes his head. “No, all we could hear was the banging and something... Growling, I guess.”

Knowing Joyce, you’d bet money that the banging had been her. You know that the next time you go over to their house, the walls might actually be destroyed, but she’d been right all along. Will is alive, he has to be. The pieces that you’ve slowly been collecting this past week fall together one by one. 

“That explains the walls and the weird monster thing in Jonathan’s picture,” you mumble to yourself, but Lucas hears you. 

“Do I wanna know?”

You purse your lips. “Let’s focus on figuring out where Will is, then I’ll tell you guys what I’ve been up to this week.” 

“Okay, so,” Mike begins again, now grabbing the board game and flipping it onto its normal, light side. “What if this is Hawkins,” he flips it upside down onto its dark side, “and this is where Will is?” 

“The Upside Down.” You finish for him. 

“The Upside Down.” Mike confirms. 

Slowly Dustin follows along. “Like the Vale of Shadows.”

Somehow you always end up the one confused when it comes to these damn kids. “The Vale of Shadows? What the hell is that?”

Dustin runs over to the bookshelf and pulls out a thick binder full of paper, but as he flips through it you realize it’s a rulebook for Dungeons and Dragons. He lands on the page he’s looking for, and you feel your shoulders drop. Great. More confusing terminology ahead. 

“‘The Vale of Shadows’,” he begins to read, “‘is a dimension that is a dark reflection or echo of our world. It is a place of decay and death. A plane out of phase. A place of monsters’.”

“Wait, didn’t you say something about a monster, Y/N?” Lucas asks, but you shush him so you don't miss whatever else Dustin will say next. 

“‘It is right next to you, and you don’t even see it’.” He finishes. 

His words hang in the air for a moment, but Mike, always somehow three steps ahead, pieces it together. “An alternate dimension.” 

Lucas finally accepts what’s happening. “But how do we get there?” 

“I’m sorry, we?” You look between all three boys, their faces still young and holding the childish innocence that you once had yourself. “No, there’s no ‘we’ in this. I may not know much about alternate dimensions, but there’s no way I’m letting you guys try to find and go to one.”

Mike rolls his eyes at you. “Well what choice do we have? Do you want to tell that mean police chief about this?”

“I…well… I mean-no.” You sink down in the seat, annoyed that Mike is right. No way Hopper believes any of this, you hardly believe any of it. 

“Can we cast shadow walk?” Dustin focuses back on the conversation at hand.

You don’t bother to ask what that means. 

“In real life, dummy.” Lucas reminds him. 

“We can’t shadow walk, but…” Your brother’s eyes land on El, who is still laying on the couch, silent and unmoving. “Maybe she can.”

The four of you turn towards the girl, and Mike voices his own question. “Do you know how we get there? To the Upside Down?”

El meets your eyes, and you can see that she’s hesitant about something. She’s been quieter than usual, almost suspiciously so, and you know that the more Mike figures things out, the more hesitant she becomes. She shakes her head at you, and you give her a sad smile. 

Lucas flings his head back and groans. “Oh my god!”

Mike and Dustin seem to be thinking the same thing, disappointed by El’s lack of help. You don’t blame them, also frustrated by the fact that it feels like you guys are so close to discovering something big. You can feel hope reignite in your chest; you haven’t been this close to an explanation about Will all week. This has to be it. It’s the only way you can explain everything that’s been happening lately. 

Speaking of which:

“Remember how I mentioned Barb and a possible monster?” 

You tell them everything, about Jonathan’s worry for his mom, how their phone got charred by lightning, Hopper’s theory that Will had been running from something, Nancy and Barb attending Steve’s party and how Barb had been on her own near the woods. You tell them about how Barb has been missing ever since and the photos Jonathan took (leaving out the horrible ones of Nancy) that Nancy brought to your attention at the funeral home. The figure in the background, looming over Barb, how it didn’t seem to have a face.

Then you tell them about Joyce and her spiral, though now you know she actually wasn’t crazy. You tell them about the Christmas lights and Will communicating with her through them. How she claimed that she could hear him through the wall and that the body in the quarry hadn’t been him. 

When you’re finally done catching them up, they stare at you with their jaws open. 

“Dustin,” Mike says, “remind me to never leave your sister out ever again.”

“Noted.” 

– 

The events from the day had left El exhausted and she refuses to say anything else after you explain everything to the boys. Her eyes droop while Mike interrogates you for answers you can’t give him, so finally you take pity on the poor girl and tell him that you’ll talk more in the morning. 

Mike isn’t too happy about being shut down, but when you point towards a half asleep El he reluctantly gives in. “Fine, but as soon as the funeral is over we’re discussing this further.”

Right. Will’s funeral is tomorrow. 

“Yeah, sure,” you tuck your hair behind your ears and motion over to Dustin. “We need to go, it’s late and mom will be wondering where we are.” 

He tries to argue with you but you just gather your things and head for the stairs. There’s still a lot you need to think about and a million things you need to sort before the funeral tomorrow. Did Jonathan even buy the coffin? Who had made the arrangements after you and him left the funeral home with Nancy?

There’s a lot you need to talk about when you call him tonight. 

The bike ride home with Lucas and Dustin is a quiet one, both boys understanding that you need some time to think about everything you learned tonight. 

You make a list in your head of what you do know, but it’s a frustratingly short list. 

1) El, one way or another, has powers that enable her to communicate with Will in some weird upside down universe that you can’t actually get to (can you even count this as something you know?)

2) Hopper was right: Will went missing because he was running from something (probably the same faceless thing that’s in Jonathan’s photo). 

3) Whatever took Will also took Barb, bringing Nancy into this wonderfully confusing mess (you still don’t know if her involvement is a good or bad thing). 

Everything else? You have no fucking clue what’s going on. 

When you get home with Dustin, it’s late; the two of you have to sneak past your mom, who fell asleep with Mews on her lap in the living room. Dustin heads straight for his room but you stop him, motioning for him to come into yours for a second. 

“What-”

“Shh!” You quickly shut your door to ensure that your mom won’t hear anything. 

Dustin groans. “I thought you said you weren’t gonna yell at me?”

You roll your eyes at him. “I yell at you guys twice after years of patience, now suddenly I’m a screaming monster,” he doesn’t say anything and flings himself onto the bean bag by your bed. “Anyways, we’re long overdue for a code blue.” 

Your brother shoots up from the bean bag, eyes wide. “No.”

“Yes,” you join him on the bean bag. “Code blue time, we’re going to talk about our feelings after the hellish week we’ve had. C’mon, you know the drill.” 

Code blue was something the two of you came up with when your dad left. You had been twelve when it happened, Dustin had been nine. It’d been a really rough few months for you guys, dealing with the betrayal of your dad while also moving away from your hometown in Virginia all within a year. Neither of you had adjusted well to the sudden changes, and though you were angry and bitter about what had happened, the moment you saw that it was affecting your brother you decided to implement code blue. 

It’s simple, really. Whoever calls for a code blue gets to talk about or ask whatever they want while the other is required to answer. Originally it was so that you could force Dustin into telling you his feelings, but over the years it’s become a way to bond with each other and know that no matter what you’ll be there for one another. No half truths or a vague “I’m fine”; it’s a time for you guys to be vulnerable with one another without using it as leverage against the other. 

Dustin plops his head back down. “Fine, but I’m tired so can this be quick?”

“Hey, no complaining during code blue. That’s like, rule number one.” 

“Y/N.” His tone is one of annoyance and you know that if you don’t start talking soon then you’ll lose his interest.

“Right, sorry. Okay,” you clear your throat and face your brother. “Today’s code blue topic is this: I’m worried about you getting your hopes up about Will. We don’t know that he’s alive just yet.” 

As expected, Dustin is unhappy with what you’ve said. “We do know that he’s alive, I heard him on the heathkit. He’s alive, Y/N.” He sees the uncertainty on your face and doubles down on what he’s saying. “He is.”

You bite your lip, scared that you’ll say the wrong thing. “Dustin, nothing is certain. Even though we’re definitely onto something, and while I believe that you heard Will on the radio, that doesn’t change the fact that there’s something else out there that wants to hurt him. I mean, he’s trapped in some weird alternate dimension that we have no idea how to even get into. I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

You think about the way your brother’s face fell when they pulled Will’s body out of the water. How the hope that had been in his eyes immediately died alongside his childhood naivety. He had built all of his hope upon a shaky foundation; the moment it collapsed he fell apart. 

“Look I know you’re trying to look out for me, but Will is a part of the party. He’s our friend, we can’t just lose hope and leave him behind. He needs us.” Dustin speaks with so much certainty and an aura of maturity that almost makes you forget that he’s twelve. 

“I’m not saying it’s dangerous to have hope, but I need you to promise me that you’ll protect yourself from whatever happens next. How’s that sound?”

Dustin thinks for a moment, tapping a finger against his chin. “Hmm, I think I can make that deal if you promise the same thing. I mean, c’mon, it’s obvious that you’re the sensitive one out of the two of us. You and hope? Doomed.” 

You laugh, knowing he’s right. You’ve always been branded by hope; hopeful for love, for dreams, and for those who may not always deserve it. You and hope haven’t always gotten along, but she’s become a familiar friend. 

“I think you’ve got yourself a deal. Now, it’s late and I have to call Jonathan and catch him up on everything, so let’s conclude code blue with its mandatory hug.” 

“Woah woah woah, I don’t think we gotta-”

Dustin’s words become muffled as you throw yourself on top of him and squish him into a hug. He squirms against you for a second, claiming he can’t breathe, but you shush him and force him to accept the hug. Though you won’t ever tell him this, losing Will has only made you more appreciative of having a wonderfully annoying little brother. 

After code blue, Dustin goes to his room claiming that “alternate dimensions are super draining”, and before he leaves you tell him to be ready tomorrow by nine for the funeral and that your mom will take him. You’ll be at the Byers’ helping Jonathan. 

Once he’s gone you give yourself a few moments to sit in silence, letting the events from today settle over you. It seems like all you’ve felt this week is exhaustion and hurt and at the rate everything is going, there’s no telling how long you’ll feel this way. 

The moment you’re done wallowing you roll off the bean bag and walk over to your desk to call Jonathan. You’re honestly not sure what you’ll even tell him tonight, there’s no way you’ll be able to cover everything before the night ends. The two of you have a long day tomorrow, so you figure you’ll have to make do with the limited time you have and summarize. 

Jonathan answers after a few rings. “How’d your little secret mission go?”

You make a face. “Is it even a secret mission if I told you I was going on it?”

“It is if you refuse to tell me what you did during it.” 

“Touche, bee.” 

He laughs, which sends a cascading warmth throughout your body. You can envision him perfectly on the other end of the line, leaning against his kitchen wall with the phone wire wrapped around his finger as he absent mindedly fiddles with it while he talks to you. 

You clear your throat and shake the thought from your mind, you called him for a reason. “Anyways… we need to talk.”

Jonathan is silent for a moment and you can feel the playfulness fade away. “Yeah, you first though. You already know what Nance and I were up to.” 

Nance?

Awesome. Cool. Totally not going to be consumed by that later. 

“Right. Uh, well. I went looking for Dustin because the other night when I was with the boys we stumbled upon this, well, this little girl.” 

“A girl?”

“Yeah, she’s bald.”

“Okay… is that important or…?”

“Unsure, but it felt important to tell you. Sorry,” you take a deep breath, “I’m not sure why I’m so nervous right now.”

“It’s okay, bug. It’s me, you can tell me anything.” 

No I can’t.

“Sure, yeah, totally. Um, so anyways we found her, her name is El, and she’s our only connection to Will right now.”

A beat of silence. “What do you mean?”

“Well, she kinda has… powers?”

“Powers,”

“Powers.”

You hear Jonathan sigh on the other end of the call. “Bug, you’re not seriously telling me that the boys have somehow dragged you into one of their little schemes, right?”

Yeah, he’s reacting exactly how you figured he would. 

“I know what it sounds like, but Jonathan… How else would you explain everything going on? Will disappeared, Barb did too, your mom and her lights. Now that thing Nancy saw in the woods, which I know you definitely have an update that will only further prove how weird this all is.”

Again Jonathan is quiet, and this time you envision him pacing little circles in the kitchen as he carefully thinks through your words, trying to piece it all together. “We developed the photo again and you’re right, there’s something behind Barb in it.” 

You close your eyes and exhale. “So, you believe me now?”

“Guess I don’t really have a choice.”

“You don’t.” 

“Then we’ll talk about it after the funeral tomorrow.” He concedes. 

“Yeah,” you let out a shaky breath, “the funeral. I’ll make my way over the second I wake up tomorrow to help with everything.” 

“You don’t have to-”

“I know.” 

More silence settles over the two of you. It’s still hard to wrap your head around the fact that it was only a week ago where everything was normal. No disappearances, no weird feelings, no heartbreak and confusion. 

“Bug?” Jonathan is practically whispering. 

“Yeah?”

“Lonnie is here.”

The words hit you hard. Why the fuck is Lonnie back in Hawkins? “Do you need to spend the night? I can finally bake those cookies for your mom and we can watch whatever you want.” 

“No,” he sounds exhausted. “He hasn’t been a problem yet, and I can’t…” 

“Leave your mom with him?” You finish. 

“He thinks she’s crazy and her axing down one of our walls doesn’t help-”

So you were right, Joyce did indeed break down her wall to try and get to Will.

“Jonathan, it’s okay. I understand, stay with her and get some rest. Sleep, that’s an order.”

He lets out a weak laugh. “I love you, bug.” 

Like how I love you?

“I love you too, bee.” The words burn your tongue. 

“Goodnight,”

“Sleep well.”

– 

You’re up before the sun this morning.

You spent hours tossing and turning last night, hardly getting any sleep. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to turn your mind off. All you could think about was Jonathan, his smile and his voice and the way he kisses your forehead whenever you’ve done something especially endearing to him. You were surrounded by him last night. 

Now you stand outside his front door holding a tin of cookies, dressed in a simple knitted black dress and tights with mary janes that used to belong to your mom for Will’s funeral. The shoes are your favorite, but now you’re afraid they’re tainted by the occasion you’re wearing them for. 

It’s Lonnie who opens the door. “Well if it isn’t little miss Henderson. I missed ya, sweetheart.” 

You haven’t seen the man in two years, having been fourteen when he left Joyce and the kids. Since then he’s only aged horribly, his eyes slightly yellowed and his beer gut now more prominent. Clearly he still prefers alcohol over human company. Figures. 

“Can’t say the same about you.” Your shoulder hits his as you walk in and he lets out an annoyed huff. 

The man follows you but you pay him no attention. Instead you head straight towards Joyce and the second she sees you she runs into your arms; you only have a few seconds to place down the cookies before she’s in your arms. 

“Y/N! You’re here!” She squeezes you tight and you melt into her embrace. She’s always given the best hugs whenever you’ve needed the comfort, but now it’s your turn to be the one offering the support. 

“Of course, Mrs. Byers. Who else will make sure Jonathan is ready on time?” You mean for it to be a joke, but the way that Joyce’s eyes harden tells you that the funeral is a sore topic for her. She still doesn’t believe that Will is dead and it breaks your fucking heart that you can’t tell her she’s right. 

Joyce wipes away a tear before pulling away. She goes to say something before seeing the tin of cookies on the counter; she immediately pulls you into another hug. “Oatmeal raisin,” 

“They’re your favorite.”

“And Will’s.”

“And Will’s favorite. You know I gotta take care of my Byers.” You whisper into her ear, feeling Lonnie’s eyes on you during the exchange. You have to bite back your tongue, though his presence always makes you feel a type of anger that’s normally foreign to you. 

Joyce pulls away and you know it’s taking everything in her to give you a smile. “You’re too good, sweetie,” she tucks a loose strand of hair that came out of its braid. “Jonathan’s in his room.” 

You grab her hand and give it a squeeze, trying to convey just how much you love and admire her into a simple gesture, before letting go and walking over to Jonathan’s door. 

He’s struggling with his tie when you let yourself in. He’s dressed in the only nice white button down he owns, something he bought for his aunt’s funeral a few years ago that now hardly fits. You can tell that he’s getting frustrated with the tie, so you walk over and help. 

“Here, let me,” you wrap your fingers around the piece of cloth and quickly fashion it into a tie. The two of you don’t talk while you fix the clothing and you know that today will be a wordless day with Jonathan. 

When you’ve finished, you begin to pull away before he places his hands around yours. He cups your hands at the base of his neck as they rest against his collarbones; your fingers are still wrapped around his tie. He squeezes your hands and brings them to his lips and kisses your knuckles so softly that you feel all the love within you simmer.

You know he’s only trying to express his gratitude for you but the butterflies in your stomach make you feel faint. 

You’d do anything for him. 

– 

The funeral has a surprising turnout, not because you ever doubted Will’s incredible ability to be loved by anyone he meets, but because you see faces in the crowd who you’ve never seen before. 

You stand behind Jonathan during the funeral with your hand on his shoulder as he sits with his family in a weak attempt to provide comfort during the service. It’s really fucking bleak. Your other hand is on Dustin’s shoulder as he stands next to you while Mike and Lucas are to the right of him.

Your mother is in the back of the crowd having known she’d cry the entire service, and faintly you can hear her blow her nose into a tissue and sniffle. 

The pastor drones on for a while about how a tragedy like this won’t separate everyone from God’s love, but if attending the funeral for a twelve year old boy is how God shows his love then you want no part in it. Joyce sits stoic alongside Lonnie, Jonathan hasn’t moved at all since the service began; they’re a family brought together by grief. This isn’t love. 

“Just wait until we tell Will that Jennifer Hayes was crying at his funeral,” Dustin snickers, effectively breaking you from your thoughts. You hit his shoulder and shush him as Mrs. Wheeler reminds the boys to be quiet. You flash her an apologetic smile for your brother’s actions. 

You know how firmly the boys believe Will is alive and you honestly can’t say you don’t think so as well, but nothing is certain. Even if he’s alive there’s no way you guys can get to wherever he is; you wish the boys would use some caution with how quickly they’re building their hopes up. 

After the service you walk up to Will’s grave and bend down. You bring one of the yellow roses from the funeral director up to your lips and whisper, “If you’re out there little bee, please, come home.”

Before dropping the rose in you give it a gentle kiss, inhaling its sweet scent and watching as it falls down onto his coffin. Jonathan finds you there crouched down and sees the rose right as it lands. He doesn’t say anything, he just grabs your hand and helps you stand up to bring you over to where Nancy is waiting a couple yards away. 

“Hey, Y/N.” 

You don’t have it in you to do anything other than wave at the girl, but she seems to understand and gives you a sympathetic smile. 

Soon the three of you are settled on the ground with your backs against an old rickety fence behind some tombstones. Jonathan is in the middle of you and Nancy and you rest your head against his shoulder, already exhausted from the day. It’s not the coziest spot to be sitting, but at least you’re away from prying eyes. 

Once you’re seated, Jonathan finally talks for the first time today. “Alright, I already told you this over the phone last night bug, but Nancy was right. After we redeveloped the photo there’s definitely some kind of figure behind Barb, and we thought maybe if my mom has been right all along about some monster-”

“Then she’s right about Will being alive.” You finish for him, having already come to the same conclusion yourself.

“And Barb has to be alive if Will is.” Nancy says, and there’s a spark of hope in her voice that surprises you. You’re ashamed to admit that you didn’t think her and Barb were that close, but seeing how worried she’s been for the girl makes you realize that you’d been a fool not to have seen it sooner. Barb was Nancy’s closest friend. You don’t know what you’d do if Jonathan ever disappeared like Barb did. 

Jonathan pushes your head with his shoulder. “Anything you want to share with the class?”

You look between him and Nancy and try to decide how much you should tell them. While you’ve already told Jonathan a little bit about El, you’re not sure if you can trust the information with Nancy. However, seeing her urgency to find her friend leaves you feeling a bit safer disclosing the information to her. 

“It started the night after Will disappeared…”

It takes a while to tell them everything, and while Jonathan butts in a few times to ask questions, Nancy remains silent and eagerly listens. She nods when she’s supposed to, engages with the story as if her life depends on it. You’re incredibly impressed by her intelligence and openness to the situation at hand. Had it been anyone else they would’ve scoffed at you and called you insane. But Nancy? She holds onto every word and trusts that what you’re saying is true. 

You’re starting to admire her, as painful as it is to admit. But Nancy Wheeler is fucking brilliant, there’s no denying that. 

When you’re finally done explaining El and the Upside Down, Nancy finally speaks. “Let me make sure I’m understanding correctly, you’ve been helping my brother harbor a girl with superpowers in my basement?”

Huh. 

You hadn’t thought of it that way. 

“Ya know, you make a good point.”

Thankfully she laughs and doesn’t seem too upset, which relieves you. You reassure her that they’re fine and that El is someone you trust, and Nancy seems to take comfort in your words. It’s not that you purposely hid the situation from her, but looking back you definitely could’ve used her help now that you know how cool she is. 

As the two of you are laughing, Jonathan pulls out a piece of paper. 

“What’s that?” You ask. 

He shows you. “I printed out a map of Hawkins and drew x’s on every place we know for sure the monster has been.” 

“Two questions: one, so we’re officially calling it the monster now? And two, why don’t you ever put in this much effort for school projects we do together?” 

Jonathan flicks the paper in your face. “Funny. And yes, we’re calling it the monster now. Can you pay attention please?”

“Sorry,”

Nancy shuffles in closer and her head is practically on Jonathan’s shoulder as well (you’re choosing to ignore that) and she studies the paper and points to one of the x’s. “So that’s-”

“Steve’s house,” Jonathan points to another x, “and that’s the woods where they found Will’s bike and where Y/N last saw him,” the familiar feeling of guilt washes over you, “and that’s my house.” 

Nancy reaches over Jonathan and grabs your hand, surprising you both. “You saw Will last?”

“Yeah,” you swallow, your mouth now suddenly dry. 

“I’m sorry,” her tone is sincere.

“We should get back to the map…” You dodge, highly uncomfortable with Nancy’s comfort. You appreciate it, but you’ve never been good at accepting help from others. 

“Right, sorry,” Nancy clears her throat. “The x’s, they’re all so close.”

Jonathan observes the interaction with slight confusion but decides not to say anything besides, “Yeah, exactly. I mean, it’s all within a mile or something. Whatever this thing is, it’s not traveling far.”

There’s a look in his eyes as he speaks, one of determination and disdain for whatever that thing is, and before you can tell him no, it’s Nancy who voices your concern first. “You want to go out there.”

Jonathan nods and you feel uneasy. “I trust you won’t try going alone again, right?” It’s a question, but he hears the underlying try and I’ll kill you hidden beneath your words.

“No, not this time… but we might not find anything.” 

“I found something,” Nancy reminds him, which you nod at. She’s the only one out of the three of you who has seen the monster in person, and if you had to place any bets, she’s the one who will be able to figure out what the fuck to do with it. 

Actually, what are you guys going to do?

“Do we, like, have a plan for after we’re done monster sightseeing? Or are we just going to take a look at it and call it a night?” You ask the two of them. 

Nancy bites her lip and looks down, also unsure what exactly the three of you are supposed to do. It’s Jonathan who remains stone faced, and there’s a newfound sense of confidence within him that you’ve never seen when he boldly states, “We kill it.”

“Alright there tough guy,” you hit his chest with your hand and snort. “Sure, we kill it. Obviously.”

“Well, do you have any other ideas? For all we know, Mike and the others will be out there in those woods later looking for Will.”

“We don’t know that-”

“Bug, humor me, how did they find El again?”

You’re silent. He’s right, if you guys don’t go and find this monster before tonight then there’s a high chance the boys and El will find it themselves. Fuck. 

“Nancy,” you say to the girl, “it seems like we’re now officially monster hunters.”

– 

Of course Lonnie has a goddamn handgun just casually stored in his glove box.

You’re not entirely on board with this whole gun situation and apparently Nancy isn’t either, immediately questioning Jonathan when he picks the lock to get the gun.

“What, you want to find this thing and take another photo? Yell at it? Better yet, why doesn’t Y/N just round up the boys and El and have them take it down.”  

“Okay, hey,” you point at Jonathan. “Out of line.” 

He mumbles an apology under his breath while Nancy claims that this is all a terrible idea. You’re not sure where you fall in regards to what’s happening, but you’d say at the moment you’re a solid mix between Jonathan’s no time for nonsense mood and Nancy’s hey let’s slow down hesitation. 

You kick a rock and watch as it dings against Lonnie’s car, which pleases you. “Oh it’s definitely a terrible idea, Nancy. Unfortunately it’s all we have going for us at the moment.” 

Jonathan nods at your words. “She’s right, no one’s going to believe us if we tell them. You know that.” 

“Your mom would.” Nancy responds, jutting her jaw out in defiance. 

You cringe, unsure how Jonathan will respond to what she’s said. Joyce is a sore topic for him, he’s always been so protective of her.

“She’s been through enough,” he sighs, and you hum in agreement. 

Nancy grows more frustrated. “She deserves to know!”

You step in between them. “Look, you’re right. Mrs. Byers deserves to know, but right now she isn’t well enough to handle the idea of her only remaining son actively seeking out a monster that may have taken her other son who could possibly be alive. If we’re wrong or Jonathan gets hurt, it might actually kill her.”

“Yeah, we’ll tell her when this thing is dead.” You note Jonathan’s word choice, saying “when” instead of “if”. In the four years you’ve been his friend, you’ve never seen him so self-assured before. You’d be proud of him if the circumstances weren’t so damn grim. 

“What about the kids?” Nancy finally says after a few seconds of silence. 

“They can’t get involved, I won’t let them.” You tell her and she nods as if expecting you’d say that. 

She gestures over to the funeral home where the crowd of attendees are now gathered for the post burial service. “I know my brother, so you better go and tell him that they need to stay at our house while we deal with the monster. They like you better than they like me, they’ll listen to you if you explain what we’re doing.” 

You’re flattered by her words, honestly. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas listening to you about staying put while you guys go monster hunting? They’d be out the door before you’d be even able to finish saying the phrase “monster hunting”. No way they’ll listen, and you’re about to say exactly that before catching the look Jonathan is giving you. 

You groan at him. “You don’t actually believe they’ll listen to me, right? C’mon, you know those boys as well as I do. This is just a giant DnD game for them at this point.” 

He shrugs, “It doesn’t hurt to try?”

Nancy gives you a hopeful look and bats her eyelashes at you, which, okay, shouldn’t work on you but does. Jonathan does the same, except instead of batting his eyelashes he winks at you and suddenly you’re very confused by the onslaught of emotions that wash over you.

“Ugh, fine. But when they show up in the woods later you guys are on your own!” 

– 

When you step inside the service hall, everyone is gathered into small groups talking amongst themselves. You scan the room for the kids and spot them across the room sitting at a table with Mr. Clark. He’s talking to them about something while holding a paper plate up. You’re not sure what exactly he’s saying to the boys, but they’re leaning in close to him and are listening intently. 

This worries you. 

You try to make your way over as quickly as you can, but being Jonathan’s best friend has some challenges. Every few steps you take you’re stopped by an extended family member of the Byers to ask how you are or a stranger stops to offer you their condolences because you’re close with the family. You do your best to make small talk and thank the people, but you don’t have time to say much else besides, “thank you” or “you were Will’s favorite great aunt”.

By the time you finally get to the table with Mr. Clark and the boys, the man has folded up the paper plate and stabs it with a pen. You really, really don’t want to know whatever the hell this man is explaining to the kids. 

“You create a doorway,” he explains, holding up the plate and smiling at the boys. 

Dustin looks enthralled. “Like a gate?”

“Sure, like a gate. But again, this is all-”

“Theoretical.” Lucas says, nodding his head.

A gate?

What are the odds the boys are talking about a gate to Disneyland?

You sigh, not liking the odds at all.

You slide yourself into Dustin’s chair and force your brother to share with you. He squeaks in surprise and you flash him a tight lipped smile, which causes him to gulp. He knows he’s been busted. 

Mike scoffs at your arrival. “Gee, wonder why you’re here Y/N.”

“Go on, continue this conversation with Mr. Clark here. I wanna hear it.” 

Mr. Clark looks at you uncertainly but Mike simply carries on with the conversation as if you aren’t even here. “But what if this gate already existed?”

“Well, if it did I think we’d know.”

You snort. “Wanna bet?”

Again the man looks at you uncertainly and clears his throat, uncomfortable by your presence. “What I mean to say is that it would disrupt gravity, the magnetic field, our environment.”

“So if there is a gate, it’d be really bad?” You ask, but you already know the answer. 

“Oh, definitely. It might even swallow us up whole!” 

You and the boys look around the table at one another, not at all liking what Mr. Clark is saying. Swallow you guys up whole? That’s not really something you’re interested in. 

Mr. Clark sees your nervousness and shrugs. “Science is neat, but it’s not very forgiving.”

Silence falls upon the table. 

Mr. Clark is such a peachy person.

“Well!” You throw your hands upon the table and the loud noise causes everyone to flinch. “Thank you so much for that lovely information, Mr. Clark. It was truly riveting, but would you mind giving me and the boys a second alone? I just, I want to make sure they’re doing okay after today.” 

You bat your eyes at the man, something you never do, and he clears his throat and excuses himself. The second he’s gone you snap your finger in the boys’ faces. “Hey, listen up. Whatever you guys are planning? Don’t.”

As usual, Mike is the one who argues. “But-”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what we’re-”

“No.”

“Can you at least let me-”

“Sure,”

“Really?”

“No.”

Lucas and Dustin watch the interaction with slight pleasure, amused by your ability to shut Mike up, but when he turns to them for help they reluctantly give in. 

“Y/N,” Dustin sighs, “honestly, how many times are we gonna do this whole ‘we’re not allowed but we’re going to do it anyways’ bit?” 

You glare at your brother. “However many times it takes for you guys to finally listen.”

“Cool. Then we’ll expect you to bust down Mike’s door later tonight.”

“I’m not kidding,” you face all the kids and make sure they’re listening. “Whatever you’re trying to do, don’t. Jonathan and I-”

“You told Jonathan?” Mike exclaims but Lucas shushes him. 

“We’re going to handle it, we already have a plan but whatever you do: stay out of the woods from here on out. We think… We think there’s a monster out there hiding. I just want to make sure you guys are safe.”

“Monster hunting?” Dustin’s eyes light up and you silently curse Jonathan and Nancy for even suggesting you do this in the first place.

“Technically… yes, but you guys absolutely have to stay put.”

They stare at you as if you’re insane.

“You do realize who you’re talking to, right?” Dustin asks. 

You flick his head. “Yes, and I’m putting a lot of trust in you guys right now. I’ll let you guys do whatever you want so long as it doesn’t include the woods. Until you get an all clear from me, it’s off limits.” 

Mike thinks this over. “Can we look for the gate then?”

You sigh. There’s no other way to appease them. “If you don’t go near the woods… then fine.”

The boys begin to cheer, which causes several funeral guests to stare at you with judgment. You realize now that this probably hadn’t been the right setting to have this conversation in. Oh well.

You don’t let the boys cheer for long. “However-”

“There she goes,” Lucas sinks into his seat and squeezes his eyes shut. 

“I get full updates whenever I please. I don’t care if I have to track you guys down from the gates of hell itself, but I will find you and you will tell me everything. Deal?”

Lucas, Dustin, and Mike gather close together and duck their heads down so whisper to one another. You roll your eyes but wait for them to finish. When they’ve reached a decision, Mike interlocks his fingers and places his hands on the table. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” 

– 

As soon as you’ve changed out of your funeral clothes and into a simple pair of jeans and a sweater, Jonathan arrives at your house. You kiss your mom’s cheek before leaving and shout over your shoulder, “Remember the deal, Dustin!” 

You don’t quite catch what your brother responds with but you honestly don’t care enough as you run over to Jonathan’s car and hop into the passenger seat. 

“You certainly didn’t waste any time getting here,” you say in lieu of a hello. 

Jonathan shrugs. “No time to waste when it comes to monster hunting.”

“You do realize that we’re only scouting out the woods tonight, right?” 

You, Jonathan, and Nancy had decided earlier to simply go and explore the woods for any clues of the monster and then figure out how, or even if, you can kill it. 

“I know, but monster hunting sounds cooler.”

“Bless you, bee.” 

The two of you get to the field in no time. Jonathan had been the one to suggest the spot a few yards behind his house for target practice and Nancy had agreed to bring a bat just in case you needed more protection. 

And you?

You’re bringing the cans to serve as targets for shooting. Your family has never owned a gun and last time you checked, Dustin doesn’t play any sports, so all you can offer is your emptied recycling bin contents. 

It doesn’t take long for you and Jonathan to set up the cans on top of the tree trunks before he begins shooting. Jonathan takes a deep breath and holds the gun up so it’s eye level and looks over at you. “Ready?”

You take a deep breath as well and prepare yourself, knowing it’s about to become loud. “Yeah, start shootin cowboy.” 

The first shot hits a tree behind the can, nowhere near its intended target, and you wince. It’s looking like the monster might actually win at the rate Jonathan’s aim is going. 

“It’s okay,” you tell your friend. “The tree looked at me funny, he had it coming.” 

Jonathan snorts. “You’re laughing now, but I can’t exactly hunt a monster if I can’t even shoot it.” 

“Maybe you could talk nicely to it?”

“And say what, exactly? ‘Hey, Mr. Monster, where are you hiding my brother?’”

You step closer to him so that you’re now side by side and you nudge his shoulder. “Hey, you never know. It could work.”

Jonathan readjusts his grip on the gun and aims it once more. He takes another shot, this time it lands a bit closer to the can, but not by much. He lets out an agitated, “Fuck!”

He tries shooting again and again but each shot is as unpredictable as the last. After his sixth round of firing you can see how tense his shoulders are and the way he’s clenching his fists against the weapon. You remember how he acted earlier today, the newfound anger and resentment within Jonathan that had originally impressed you. Now it only frightens you. 

When he goes to re-aim the gun for the seventh time, you grab at his hand and stop him. 

“Bug, what are you-”

“Let’s go for a walk.” 

Jonathan looks at you like you’re crazy but you simply take the gun from his hands, click the safety back on, and then walk over to the tree stumps to rest it against one of them. When you’re done you walk back over to the boy and interlock your fingers with his to drag him along. 

There’s not a whole bunch of room in the clearing for a walk per say, but there’s enough to go a few laps around for Jonathan to take a breather. You’re not sure exactly what’s going on with him but a walk has never hurt anyone. 

Jonathan’s silent the first lap around. You’re content with this and you admire the fall weather and enjoy the slight warmth from the sun as it kisses your face. When you’re on the third lap you decide to ask a question that’s been on your mind since yesterday when Nancy showed up at the funeral home. 

“Do you really believe Will is alive?”

Jonathan thinks the question over for a moment, and as he’s lost in thought you notice that he begins gently swinging your hands back and forth absentmindedly. “I can still feel him.”

“Feel him?”

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy but…”

“No, I think I get it. I mean, I’d be able to feel if something bad happened to Dustin. I know I’d be able to, even if there’s not necessarily a science behind it. It’s like there’s a lifeline connecting us, like some unspoken sibling thread that neither one of us can sever.”

“A sibling thread?” Jonathan asks, a slight laugh accompanying his question. 

“Oh, you know what I mean, bee.” 

“No, no. I wanna hear all about this thread theory of yours.” 

Jonathan’s bright mood is back, reminiscent of the boy you once believed you knew better than you knew yourself, so you entertain his teasing if only to sustain his light a little longer. “If I explain this theory you have to promise not to laugh at me.”

“I promise,” he says and he gives your hand a light squeeze. 

“Alright, but if you decide I’m insane after this, just know that you legally cannot leave me. You signed a contract.” 

“Oh, did I?”

“You sure did, bee. Anyways, back to me,” a slight breeze surrounds you for a moment and you let the crisp air fill your lungs. “I have this theory that we’re all connected to each other in some way by different threads. Some threads are older than others, stronger, or maybe even more rigid, but they’re there. Whether it’s a thread between you and your family, the love of your life, or a stranger you happen to pass on the street one day, none of it happens by accident.” 

“The threads are the reason it all happens?”

“Not necessarily, but yeah. To put it simply, I guess you could say that.” 

“So, for our thread,” Jonathan stops walking and tugs at you to stop as well. “After everything we’ve been through, all that we’ve done for one another, what thread would you say our’s is?”

His question catches you off guard; you can hear your heart beating within your chest. There’s so many things you wish you could tell him.

Our thread is one of romance, of lovers, of soulmates, even. 

The feelings build within you and the words threaten to spill out. The November sun is beginning to set and everything is golden in its light and Jonathan is a part of it all. His brown eyes are like warm honey on a cold winter morning and his hair is slightly ruffled from the wind that leaves his cheeks flushed and rosy. 

“Our thread,” your voice catches in your throat for a moment. “You know what our thread is, bee.”

He pulls you closer to him and in this moment all you can focus on are the slight freckles that dot across his face and neck. “Do I?”

Jonathan has never, ever looked at you like this before. There’s an intensity within his eyes that frightens you and leaves you feeling bare before him. Does he know? Has he figured it all out?

“I…” You can’t form the words you want to say; the three words that have been weighing upon you feel even heavier than before. They’re thick on your tongue, syrupy and dense and you feel as if you can’t breathe.

“Y/N?” He whispers, but you can only shake your head. 

It’s too much. It’s all too much. 

And then suddenly Jonathan leans in. 

Maybe you’re imagining it. 

Maybe you’re delirious after almost a week of sleepless nights and exhausting encounters. 

Or maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way about you. 

You lean in as well and allow yourself to close your eyes; you believe that just this once you can be selfish and accept more than you may deserve.

“Hey! Guys!”

Nancy’s shout causes you and Jonathan to spring apart. 

You want to scream. 

Of course it’s Nancy fucking Wheeler. 

Jonathan drops your hand and waves the girl over while you stand there, trying to collect yourself. As she walks over, you have just enough pride left over to say, “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

The question is one Jonathan isn’t expecting. He steps back a bit, now even more aware of the close proximity the two of you had only seconds ago. “Of course I do, bug. You’re my best friend.”

Best friend. 

The words hurt more than they should, really. 

“Right. Best friend, ha.” You step even further away from Jonathan, which he raises his eyebrows at. 

“Did I miss something or…?”

If you had the time, you’d ask him why he wanted to know about the thread between the two of you. Why he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the entire room. Why, just minutes ago, he leaned in as if to kiss you. 

But Nancy is now only a couple feet away and it wouldn’t be fair to ask her to give the two of you some privacy. You spot the bat in her hand and it serves as a reminder of what the three of you are here for in the first place. 

Will, Barb, the monster. 

“No, of course not,” you clear your throat and greet Nancy as she arrives. “Hey, Nancy.”

She smiles at you and then says hello to Jonathan. “Hey, where’s the gun?”

You point over to the cans and the tree stumps. “Over there, we just wanted to go for a little walk after shooting a few rounds.”

Nancy nods and walks over to inspect the undamaged cans. “You said you already shot a few rounds?”

Jonathan ducks his head down. “Yeah, well. It’s not as easy as it looks in the movies.” 

“Y/N, did you try shooting?” 

“Pfft, I’m definitely not a weapons kind of girl. I prefer to use my crippling good looks instead.”

While you and Nancy talk, Jonathan walks back over to the gun and reloads it. He motions for the two of you to step back and he shoots a few more times. Not once does he hit the can. You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. 

“You’re awful at this, bee.”

“Yeah,” Nancy agrees.

Jonathan looks over at her. “Have you ever shot a gun before?”

She scoffs. “Have you met my parents?”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Wheeler seems like the type to have a hidden gun.” You say, and Nancy waves you off. 

“Well, I haven’t shot one since I was ten. My dad took me hunting on my birthday and made me kill a rabbit.” Jonathan’s words make you frown. Every day he gives you another reason to hate Lonnie. 

Nancy sympathizes with Jonathan and the two of them fall into an easy banter that you’ve never seen before with him. He’s comfortable around her in a way that makes your stomach twist. He tells her about his parents and how they may have loved each other at one point but now no longer do. He’s opening up to her after only a few days of really knowing her. 

Lovely. 

Nancy shares some details about her own family and how she believes her parents never loved each other, which you can relate to. You watch as Jonathan hands her the gun as she explains how her mom had been younger than her father. “He had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So, they bought a nice house at the end of a cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family.”

“Isn’t it funny how the fathers never seem to suffer the same fate as the mothers?” You ask, and Nancy looks over at you in confusion, so you explain further. “My own parents, they were like yours except the moment my mom was no longer young, my dad left. Found a newer and cheaper model back home in Virginia.” 

“I didn’t know that, I’m sorry Y/N.” 

You shrug. “It’s not like I go and advertise it. Besides, he was an asshole anyways and my mom is better off without him. She’s the sweetest woman in the world who was forced to run back to her family in Hawkins. Nuclear families aren’t all they’re cracked out to be.”

Jonathan ruffles your hair to get you to laugh, which he succeeds in doing. “Screw that.”

 Nancy raises the gun to eye level and closes one of her eyes, her beautiful face now scrunched in concentration. “Yeah, screw that.”

And with that, she shoots a perfectly aimed shot and knocks the can off the stump. You and Jonathan look at her, stunned, but she can only laugh. 

“Damn, Jonathan. Remind me to never piss Nancy off.” You say, still staring at the fallen can. 

Only he doesn’t hear what you’ve said because he’s too busy staring at Nancy. You can tell he’s impressed by her hidden shooting talent and the way she holds herself with such confidence. His eyes shine as he stares at her and he almost seems to come to life whenever she looks back at him. 

Jonathan looks at Nancy and you know he sees what everyone in Hawkins sees: a beautiful, fierce, and incredible girl. 

Nancy Wheeler, the perfect enigma.

Suddenly it clicks. 

Jonathan is in love with her, or at least he’s beginning to fall in love with her. 

You want to hate her. Afterall, she already has Harrington head over heels for her, and yet you can’t blame either one of the boys. She’s perfect and brilliant and everything you’re not. You’d fall in love with her too if you weren’t already in love with someone else. 

You watch as Nancy and Jonathan become lost in their own little world, him helping her reload the gun as she flashes him a shy smile, and you no longer exist near their presence. It feels like a fucking stab to your already open wound of a heart. You watch the way he ducks his head down whenever she looks at him and the way she stares at him when he isn’t looking. 

Nancy shoots a few more rounds and each shot feels like a hammer coming down onto your own coffin. Each time Jonathan looks at her you feel another nail enter. 

Clearly there’s no room for you here. 

Which is fucking ironic given that you’re in a giant field outside. 

You reach for Jonathan’s hand and tug him forward. He gives you a look as if asking is everything okay? and you wish more than ever that things were different between the two of you. You give him a soft shake of the head. “I can feel a headache coming on and I just remembered that I have a shift tonight, so I should get going.” 

He frowns. “But what about the monster? We can’t look for him without you.”

“You’ll be fine without me,” to your horror you can feel tears forming, which you quickly wipe away before Jonathan can notice. “I doubt I’d be any help, anyways. I suck with guns. Nancy’s the professional here.” 

“I mean, I guess, but…” He looks over at Nancy, who is busy firing the gun and hitting every target she aims for, before pulling you even closer to him. “Are we okay? I feel like, I don’t know… like I’m losing you.”

Your breath catches in your throat. He could never, ever lose you, but if you don’t leave now then you’re afraid that maybe you’ll lose yourself. 

“Don’t be silly, bee. You’re not losing me, no matter how much you may want me to.” You try to tease him, but your heart isn’t in it. 

“You didn’t answer my question, Y/N. Are we okay?” He’s looking at you with so much adoration and concern in his eyes that it almost makes you sick. 

“Of course we are. I promise. I think it’s all just catching up to me, if I’m being honest. Between finding Will and tracking down my own brother, I think this monster hunting business may break me.” 

Jonathan eyes you for a moment as if to try and catch you in a lie, but while you’re only telling him this as an excuse to get away from him and Nancy, it’s not technically a lie. You are exhausted. Plus, you really do have a shift. 

The boy scans your face once more before deciding that you’re telling the truth. You know he suspects there’s something else behind your words, but thankfully he doesn’t pry. “Let me tell Nance that I’m driving you home,” 

And there it is again. 

Nance.

The nickname is like a punch to your gut and only solidifies that you should go. “It’s okay, bee. It’s still nice out, figured I’d walk home and get some sun before winter officially takes over Hawkins.” 

“You can’t expect me to let you walk alone now that we know there’s a monster out there taking people, bug.” 

You kiss his cheek, letting your lips linger for a little longer than necessary. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Stay with Nancy and call me tonight after you guys are done scouting around. We’ll figure out where to go from there. Okay?”

You don’t give Jonathan time to argue because you pull away and inform Nancy of your departure. She also frowns at the idea but has already learned that you’re not one to be told what to do. She understands this aspect of you, and you understand it within her as well, so she wishes you goodbye and tells you to stay safe before going back to shooting.

As you leave, you feel Jonathan’s eyes follow after you. 

– 

The walk ends up being more than enough to clear your head. You haven’t had any time to be alone in god knows how long, so it’s nice to have some time to just think and enjoy the quiet. There’s a lot you need to think about, but at the very forefront of your concerns are Will and El. You still have no idea how they’re connected or how the monster comes into play.

Then there’s Steve, oddly enough. 

You’re not really sure why he’s in the midst of your thoughts, but there he is. Smiling at you and laughing at your jokes and telling you that you’re pretty as he instills a carefree sense within you that feels foreign to enjoy. 

As his words ring through your head, you find your thoughts drifting towards Jonathan and the way he holds your hand every time you’re worried about something and the way he kisses your hair after a particularly hard day.

You’re not sure why the two boys almost seem to clash within your mind, but you don’t have time to look into it. Your shift starts soon and god knows how long your coworker Alex can survive on his own if you’re late. 

Work is slow as usual tonight, but you find the downtime a pleasant relief. It gives you the opportunity to skim some new books that shipped in and catch up on some Spidey storylines. In between stocking books and arranging comic displays you find yourself wondering just how true to his word Dustin stayed earlier. 

Like hell those kids really stayed out of the woods. 

Your question is answered as soon as you get home and find your brother crying in his room. Panic immediately swells within your chest and you run over to him.

“What’s wrong?” You check Dustin’s body for any sign of injury and he lets you as he cries, too upset to wave you away. When you’re assured that he’s okay, you feel your heartbeat calm down again. 

Christ, everytime you see this kid he takes ten damn years off of your life. 

You pull a chair from his desk and sit in front of him. “Dustin, do we need to have another code blue?”

“Maybe,” Dustin sniffles, wiping away a few tears. 

“Okay, then code blue. What happened? Is everyone okay? Is it El?” At the mention of the girl’s name, Dustin flinches. Your blood runs cold. “Dustin, what happened with El?” 

“You won’t yell at me?”

You smooth down his always wild hair. “Never during code blue. Please talk to me, bud.”

Dustin explains how he and the group had gone looking for the gate like they told you they would. He explained how they’d followed the train tracks throughout Hawkins for what seemed like hours. 

“The train tracks that go through the same woods I told you not to go in?”

“Like hell we were gonna listen to you.” 

“Yeah, I know.”

This gets Dustin to laugh a bit, which you’re relieved to see, before he continues his story. When he reveals El’s weird behavior and the way she seemed to be hiding something from them, you feel dread creep in. “Did she… Did she do something to prevent you guys from finding the gate?”

“She used her powers to mess with the compass. Lucas found the blood on her jacket.”

You sense that there’s more. “And then?”

“Mike and Lucas… they-they started fighting.” Dustin’s voice breaks, “they started really going at it, and I tried to stop them. I swear I tried, Y/N!”

“Shh,” you reach for his hand to try and calm him down. “I know you did, but I also know how Mike can get when he’s protective of someone and I know that Lucas isn’t El’s biggest fan. It was a recipe for disaster.”

Dustin snorts, “No kidding.” Then his face darkens once more, “but they wouldn’t listen, and that’s when El screamed.” 

“She screamed?”

“I think she was overwhelmed, but she used her powers on Lucas and flung him across the yard and he hit his head pretty hard…”

“She what-”

“She didn’t mean to! She looked really upset after, and Lucas was fine after he woke up-”

“He was knocked unconscious?”

“And then he stormed off and El ran off. We searched for her, but…” 

You stare at your brother in shock. That definitely hadn’t been what you were expecting. El never struck you as a violent girl, but she knocked Lucas out with her mind. Sure, she may have been trying to break up the fight, but you’re willing to bet that she lost control for a moment and Lucas ended up getting hurt as a result.

Maybe you don’t want superpowers. 

“Y/N, have I lost all my friends?” Dustin asks. 

You shush him once more. “No, of course not. You three boys have always been so drastically different from one another, and this week has been one from pure hell. It makes sense that Lucas and Mike finally snapped, but I promise you that they’ll bounce back eventually.” 

“And El?”

“I’m not sure what to make of her,” you admit. “She isn’t violent, I know she’s not. But we also clearly don’t know her as well as we think we do. I just, I need you to be careful around her, okay? Fight for her, defend her like you would for the boys, but be cautious as well.”

“Cautious, got it.” He cocks his head at you, “but what about Lucas and Mike? They’re still friends, right?”

“Of course they are. Just… sometimes friendship can be hard, but it’s almost always worth fighting for. It’s rare to find friends as loyal as Mike or as brave as Lucas or even as sincere as Will. Yet look at you guys, all together; you’re all incredibly lucky to have one another.”

“Lucky like you and Jonathan?” Dustin asks, a sly glint in his eyes. 

You smile, even if he’s teasing you. “Yeah, like me and Jonathan.”

Dustin returns your smile and you squeeze his hand. “Anyways, I say give Lucas some time to calm down. I think he was scared, more than anything. Tomorrow you can try to talk to him again.” 

Your brother nods at your words and he seems better than he did when you first started the conversation, so you open your arms wide and engulf him into a hug. 

“Code blue concluded, I guess.” Dustin mumbles against your chest, which causes the two of you to laugh.

– 

After your talk with Dustin, you head back to your room and wait for Jonathan to call. You glance at the clock and figure that maybe him and Nancy were still out scouting for clues, so you busy yourself with some homework.

When it nears ten at night and the phone still hasn’t rung, you sigh and reach over for the phone on your desk. You dial Jonathan’s number and hope he simply forgot to call, but when no one answers after your fifth time calling: you begin to worry. 

Ya know, maybe it wasn’t your best idea letting him and Nancy go off alone with a monster on the loose. 

You find yourself frantically biking to the Wheeler’s house before you can even think about it. The night blurs past you and as you walk up their driveway and try to rest your bike against their mailbox, a familiar BMW parks next to you. 

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this, Henderson.” Steve says as he sends you a wink. 

You almost greet the boy before Tommy’s head pops out from the passenger side window. “Hey good lookin.”

You hear Carol berate him and the two begin to bicker as Steve gets out of the car. 

Great. He brought the idiots.

Steve walks over and takes your bike from your hands. After a couple seconds of repositioning and balancing, he finally manages to get the bike to stay upright. “Tada!”

“I almost had it,” you glare at him. 

“Sure ya did.”

Steve’s presence is frustrating as always, but you spot Jonathan’s car parked down the street and Carol’s shrill voice becomes increasingly irritating. You don’t have time for this right now. “What are you doing here, Harrington?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” When you glare at him, he finally says, “Nancy promised she’d call me but hasn’t, so I wanted to check on her.”

His sincerity is why you say, “I’m here for…” You realize you can’t necessarily tell Steve about Jonathan possibly being here. You have a feeling it wouldn’t end well, but you’re also not keen on lying to the boy. You’re already keeping secrets from practically everyone in your life; you don’t want to add Steve to the list. Not when he doesn’t deserve it. 

“I’m looking for Jonathan,” you confess, worried about Steve’s reaction. 

He frowns. “Why would Byers be here?”

“Him and Nancy have this… thing for english. Due tomorrow. A big thing. Like, huge. So they’re working on it together. In the house. Where Nancy lives. Here.” You stumble over your words, more nervous than usual, but you weren’t expecting Steve to be here or that you’d need a cover story. 

“Uh huh,” something almost aggressive flickers across Steve’s face and you silently curse to yourself. You said the wrong thing. 

“Funny, Nancy told me she was only helping Byers for the funeral.” 

Shit.

Tommy and Carol watch from the car, obviously amused by the whole situation. 

“Right! She was, now she’s working on an assignment with him.” Technically not a lie, you’re just omitting the fact that the assignment in question is monster hunting. 

“You’re really bad at lying, Henderson.” Steve walks past you, now over the conversation, and you struggle to keep up. You try to block his path, assuming that he’ll use the front door, but as you near the front step he side steps you and starts heading towards the bushes. 

“What are you doing?” You whisper loudly, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself. 

Steve ignores your whispered yelling and jumps on top of the radiator. Once he’s up, he begins to pull himself over the overhang and up onto the roof. There’s a window just above the ledge with a light on, which you presume to be Nancy’s room due to the practiced ease in which Steve scaled the house. 

You don’t try to climb up after him in fear that you’ll only end up embarrassing yourself. “Ya know, Mrs. Wheeler loves me, I could’ve just knocked on the door.”

Steve peers down at you, an easygoing smile now back on his face. “Relax, this is quicker. Besides, you gotta admit it was impressive to watch.”

Again he winks at you and you feel your cheeks flush. He’s right, it had been impressive to watch; he had made it look so easy. While you struggle to come up with a witty retort, Steve almost knocks on Nancy’s window before his smile drops.

You notice the way his face hardens. “Steve?”

He doesn’t respond, which only concerns you more. You begin to think about the millions of possibilities surrounding Nancy, Jonathan, and monster hunting; fear creeps in. “Is Nancy there? Is she okay?”

“Of course you’d be worried about Nancy right now,” Steve laughs bitterly. You frown at his words, unsure what they mean, but before you can ask anything else Steve angrily climbs back down.

“Steve, what-” He pushes past you in a frenzied hurry to get to his car, but you grab his jacket and force him to stop. “Answer me! Is Nancy okay? Was Jonathan with her?”

Steve whips around and sneers at you. “Why do you even care about them? About him?”

“Because we’re friends,” you say, and for the first time you really mean it. Nancy has become someone you’d call a friend. 

Another cruel laugh escapes Steve’s lips. “Friends, huh? Yeah, those two looked real fucking cozy in her bed.”

A wave of nausea hits you.

“W-what?” You drop your hand and release his jacket. 

“It’s incredible, really. Byers has some fucking nerve.” Steve runs a hand through his hair in agitation and begins to pace. You’re too numb to stop him. “I mean, look at you! He has everything he could possibly want, but he decides to go after my girlfriend.”

“It’s not like that-” 

“Did he tell you they’d be in her room, alone in her bed, underneath her blanket?”

More nausea hits you. “No,”

They were supposed to look for any signs of the monster in the woods. That’s all he told me, you think. 

“So he’s a liar, too.” Steve scoffs, “you deserve better, Y/N.”

And with that, he heads back to his car and drives away, leaving you standing alone once more in the Wheeler’s driveway. You get a sense of deja-vu, watching Steve’s BMW descend down the street, but only this time there’s no warmth fluttering within your stomach as he leaves. 

All you feel is nausea. 

You don’t remember the bike ride home; you’re not sure how you even made it back safely without crashing into anything. All you remember is that you cried the entire way. 

You’ve lost Jonathan, there’s no denying that now. He’s Nancy’s, wholly and truly, he’s hers. 

He was never yours in the first place, you remind yourself. 

But if he was never yours in the first place, then why does it feel like you were almost something?

No. 

You don’t want to think about it that way. 

Yours or not, you can’t afford to lose Jonathan. 

Something or everything, you’ll take whatever you can when it comes to him. 

Everything, anything, nothing. Whatever he gives you, you know you’ll cling onto it with all that’s within you.

But your friendship with Jonathan is too precious to lose, too meaningful to let stupid feelings ruin it. You refuse to let anything come between your friendship with him, and you swear to yourself to shove everything down. Every hurt feeling, all the pain stabbing within your chest, you force it all down to focus on finding Will. 

He’s all that matters right now, even if it feels like the thread connecting you to Jonathan has begun to wither.

Will has to come first. 

You have to find him, something good and lovely has to come from this. You can’t let this all be for nothing.

-

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[24kvlaks]

SURVIVOR

(Survivor X Male DBD characters.)

Imagine the killer taking interest in the reader. This is a variety of different situations and the reader acts different in each scenario.

THE TRAPPER X NEWB!E READER

Trapper, if you had to be honest he was terrifying. The mask, the height, the damn traps. Worst of all his speed, it was just unnerving going up against him.

Or anyone to say the least, you didn't even know why you were there. You didn't have a crazy sob story, anything supernatural going on. You were an average joe.

Everyone else had these crazy abilities, and you just stood out of the way and did generators from a far distance.

So during your usual routine, doing a generator in the far distance you heard a snap in your left ear. The fuck? were your only thoughts as someone strong threw you over there shoulder.

And you thought you were completely fucked. You were so focused on generator rushing you didn't notice all your teammates had died, he had went past numerous of hooks.

You were hopeless and thought he was toying with you, but he stopped in front of a generator and let you waddle off of his shoulder.

You saw the hatch though you didn't dare go towards it and obeyed his wishes too finish the halfway done generator.

2 more gens to go, you sighed. Not daring to speak aloud in front of the beast.

Hot on your heels you led him to the next generator, and began working on it though you could hear him growl every time you accidentally popped it.

After what seemed like hours you moved towards the last one, thinking he was going to trick you and down you for his sick and twisted pleasure.

You were determined to escape, making sure to not fuck up like you usually did. He saw your sweat, watching how determined you were to limited freedom. Almost pissed you'd have to suffer at the hands of another killer.

Finishing the generator you sprinted yet quickly he grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder once again, and letting you down.

He opened the door for you, and the entity whispered, dawned by his disobedience.

_

THE WRAITH X INN0CENT READER

You've been in the trials for a while now. Though you always believed that the killers were still redeemable no matter how unaesthetically pleasing they were.

Especially "The wraith." There was just something about his little eyes that gained sympathy from you.

So here you were running from him, first aid in hand and not dropping pallets on him. Why? Because you refused to hurt him. Especially after you heard about his past, poor dude.

Confused by you he flinched every time you neared a pallet wondering why instead of fighting back you ran away.

Could this person possibly have empathy? To test that theory he cloaked and stalked you half the game, only gaining two kills which had been before he confronted you.

He thought you might've been a little dumb, he knew that his cloak was practically invisible though you could easily see it when he moved.

Eventually he revealed himself and chased you, just to figure you out, and to see if you'd attack if he seemed threatening enough.

Yet you didn't, you ran while you cried. Eventually the last generator got popped and they began opening the exits.

Wraith revealed himself once again and just stood there trying to at least indicate he meant no harm but was curious. Stepping out of the bush they opened the gate in front of wraith.

Gaining a sense of trust. You nodded and mumbled a tiny thank you.

_

THE HILLBILLY X INJURED READER

Running back and forth to heal your teammates, unhook them and save them so they could generator rush towards a win. Once again hillbilly on your trail.

You were getting tired, and eventually slacked off almost ending your own life, luckily he only hit your mask.

The scratches that other killers had left on your face, then started to burn from the dust in the air. He watched you fall and heave from the pain. Honestly it was a disgusting sight to see.

Though it reminded him of the pain he felt internally from his deformity. Revving his chainsaw he ran after someone else. Thinking you had enough problems on your own.

Feeling bad almost, and hooking the first survivor he saw with an aid kit so you could heal your face up. Once you did he continued the trial like usually.

Taking it easy on you but not letting you get ahead of yourself.

_

THE SHAPE X WEAK READER

You were your groups aid, you didn't fight or unhook because that wasn't your best suit.

Unbeknownst to you, you were being stalked. Every trial you had against the shape he had a close eye on you, yet didn't spare you pain. He'd hook you, and injure you.

Yet he wouldn't finish you off because he saw you as weak and had no interest in killing someone who didn't pose as a threat to him. Nor did he bow to the entity he did get here by himself after all.

He didn't care for looking for the hatch, he just cared for killing those who posed as strong or smart. You didn't, you had a brain it just didn't challenge his intellect.

Though you had your moments, stunning him. Out-thinking him from time to time. Though still, if he really tried he knew he'd kill you in an instant.

He'd camp your campfires and watch you have panic attacks after a trial or before one.

You weren't strong minded but determined to survive. Odd combo but it suited you, he knew not giving up was your strong suit.

Which is mainly why he kept an eye on you, not doing you lots of harm but hurting you when you got in his way.

_

THE CANNIBAL X CLUELESS READER

Very first trial, you had no clue what happened you just woke up there. The other people didn't talk to you they didn't trust each other especially after the unknown had resembled a little like Dwight.

So as soon as you were thrown on some farm you ran towards the nearest person, he was huge with a chainsaw. But hey! He could've just been farming right?

"Hey uh what am I supposed to do?"

Taken back he just started swinging, scared and frightened he listened to the entity's command.

"No! I'm sorry, I just want to go home man I don't know where I am."

Confused he started roaring and mumbling, it was clear that he seemingly had a disorder or speech problem so you started to speak slowly in hopes of an understanding.

Yet you got no where and he was busy having a tiny panic attack, so you walked away and sat on some hay in hopes someone would help you out.

Hearing screaming your first thought was to help so immediately ran towards the sound. Laying on the ground had been someone from the camp bleeding out.

Though as soon as you went to grab them that same man had picked them up and threw them on a hook, a fucking hook.

You dropped to your knees and begged the man to stop, and God he was fucking confused so he stood waiting for the entities command yet nothing was heard so he continued standing.

You unhooked the person and thanked the man, he mumbled something but it wasn't comprehensive so you just went along with it. You ignored the screams as you began to have an idea of what was going on.

You continued to save others whilst avoiding any conflict with him.

the trial went by fast, his confusion with no guide became beckoning, so as the gates opened you called him over, he just stood there whining.

"I don't know your name man but whoever you were talking too, will be back. Though seemingly times running out, thank you for taking it easy uh leather face?” you threw him your cloak because it was a tad chilly and jogged to the exit."

Leaving him confused he thought of it like having two opposing masters too obey when all you did was be kind towards him.

_

FREDDY KRUEGER X ATTRACTIVE READER

You had been there for a while, and yet you've heard all this news about this new killer. You were curious and determined to beat him once you met him.

You weren't going to lose to someone who the survivors say looked like a pizza with the cheese wiped off.

Yet the more you kept thinking about him the more you kept having these odd dreams. A red boiler room and some claws.

You asked others about it yet they stayed silent not wanting to get involved.

One night you went to sleep on Dwight's leg as everyone slept around the campfire.

Opening your eyes you saw the same boiler room from those other nights, yet this time you walked towards a scraping sound.

Too your surprise you saw the dude everyone was talking about. "what the fuck is this?" You cursed at him hands up ready for a fight. “This a new trial?!”

"Feisty aren't ya!" You quickly caught on by the way he was speaking to you so obvious he was flirting with you. Gross.

"What do you want, this isn't a trial. This isn't possible. Just another fuckin' nightmare." You roared at him, hands in fist you charged at him.

Just to somehow end up falling with ya legs tied. "Oopsie." He laughed at you, fucking demon.

"God, wake up dumb ass, wake up." You yelled at yourself. "This is my world, pretty bitch." He said what? And you couldn't even get up to defend yourself. Pathetic position you were in.

"God you don't get it, I own this mind of yours-"

Before he could finish his sentence she grabbed his glove and stabbed herself. Immediately she woke up.

"Crazy, but God I'd fuck that." He spoke before ending the dream.

You woke up with blood on your hands, oh you’d beat his ass next trial.

_

THE LEGION X STRONG CRYBABY READER

He thought of everything as a game, he knew he couldn't die in this realm so he roamed freely.

So once you were added into these trials golly he got excited. He knew that the entity gave you permission other known as a (perk) to fight back.

So he tested it, chasing you and breaking the finale pallet leaving you in a corner. He swung, you dodged and kicked. God did it hurt, he was stunned. Sitting there for ten whole seconds.

Quickly he realized that was going to be a problem and wondered how he could've countered it.

Legion being Legion he quickly began collecting kills. Yet he kept seeing you, he was reckless but he wasn't stupid. Chasing you would've wasted time and all of your teammates.

Yet one fucking problem was you were everywhere, you were popping generators and unhooking.

So he knew he had to get rid of you, though it was looked down on Legion camped a body knowing you'd come to the rescue and yes you did.

You got the unhook but you were knocked, so when he hooked you he took it as a sweet and sour victory.

Though as soon as he threw your shoulder on the blade you let out a petrifying roar.

He turned to you and saw his big strong girl being a cry baby. God, she looked adorable. Covered in blood and as strong as a killer but here she was crying when she got hooked.

He started accidentally camping, he was just in such awe. He stood there for so long he got you into the second hook faze.

Realizing he didn't want you dead, at least yet. he hurriedly ran away. And to his satisfaction someone rescued you.

You healed yourself up as he went to slaughter the rest of your teammates. It was up to you to save them.

He had hooked the third teammate so immediately you unhooked them, hiding behind a huge rock as you crouched towards Dwight's hook and unhooked him as your teammate did with the other.

One generator left. You decided to go head on with the killer. Just to buy time even though you were the only one with a second hook stage.

Yet you couldn't find him. Almost as if he wasn't in the trial. Unbeknownst to you he was avoiding you. Knowing you had second stage.

So as the last generator popped and two teammates died, you and Laurie managed to escape.

—

THE DOCTOR X PSYCHOTIC READER

There you were. The trial had just began and you already had a sick plan in your head.

You were going to sacrifice your teammates and find the hatch. Easy plan.

The trial begins. You had no sight of the killer so you just started on a generator. Absolutely oblivious until you felt shocks going through your body and you let out a petrifying scream.

You ran, quickly. Hoping that he didn’t notice you but oh how he did and he was hot on your trail.

Shit, this is not how you expected it to go. And your teammates were popping generators left and right.

Only 3 generators left, and he’s wasting his time trying to hook you and please the entity.

Though unbeknownst to him, you were just as much of a sick fuck as he was.

So you did what any bad teammate would do, and led him towards your other comrades. They were in shack, and you already had an escape plan.

You dropped shack palate cornering your teammates in a circle. Then hopped out the window as he went to slaughter them. You ran downstairs and opened the box.

To your amusement a first aid had been inside. You began wrapping up your wounds. The blood stopping making moving much ease.

The crazy fuck had hooked two of your teammates and the other one was on the rescue so you didn’t bother saving them.

You heard the doctor upstairs. His sick laughing feeling you with jealousy. How he got the pleasure of being a killer.

And you were stuck running.

The doctor saw what your little plan was, fishing it amusing to watch you jeopardize the life of the others just to win.

You snuck out of the basement and went to do a generator in the near corner. Both of your teammates unhooked and they got stuck in a tunneling chase.

You didn’t care. You just wanted to win. You wanted to make the entity amused and pleased.

Maybe that’s why they chose you.

Your sick and twisted mind.

You intrigued him. He wanted to dissect you, analyze your brain. Fix you, fix you with his electricity. Or kill you trying.

Your teammates got hooked again. 2 on the second phase and one on the first. Of course you weren’t going to save them.

You used the time to pop gens.

One generator left. And a teammate on a second hook phase. You rescued them, not because you cared but because you needed him to be distracted.

You heard him nearby.

You ran towards him to loop him towards your teammate he had a sickening smile on your face. He loved watching you play games with him.

You were his new favorite toy.

He shocked you just to hear you scream. It was music to his ears. Imagining you as his new test subject brought him joy.

Any joy he actually had left.

You led him to your teammate but he didn’t want to play by your rules. So he continued chasing you, he managed to hit you once.

Still hot on your trail as you barely had the strength to run. He downed you, throwing you over his broad shoulders.

He hooked you. God it was painful but nothing you’ve never felt before.

His sickening laugh filled your ears.

As your teammate came and saved the day. They downed themselves in the process, what a waste of a life.

You saw the hatch. But he saw you; and it was just a race for it. Both of you running for your life.

He hit you, you fell above the hatch.

He laughed and watched as you fell through.

Next time he would’ve made you scream for his very mercy.

He wanted to play with you, toy around with any sanity you had left.

You were a sick fuck. A sick fuck ready to be an experiment. He let you escape, he could’ve killed you if he tried. But what fun would that be if he killed you that easily?

And you both were looking for some fun next trial.

[musings-ofthe-unamused]

Obey Me Headcanons

Topic: First Kisses

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Beel, Satan, Levi, Asmo, Belphie Warnings: Lucifer

Lucifer:

He’s pushy, we all know this

When he gets stressed, he turns to you as your stress reducer

But that gets tiring because all he does is rant, rant rant

You just can’t take it anymore

“Lucifer?” “Yes?” “Shut up.”

He gets offended at first

But then he gets curious 

What happens if he continues to press your buttons?

You grab him and kiss him, of course

If your lips are on his, he can’t complain

He now asks for a kiss instead to help him stay stress free

Mammon:

Most definitely shyly asks you for a kiss

Like it’s the cutest thing ever

He has this whole date planned of a movie and dinner

You think you guys are just hanging out like normal

But he’s acting weird

You guys make it back to the house and he grabs your hand to keep you from going in

“I had fun tonight.” “Uhhh me too?”

He just kinda pauses and then goes “Can I kiss you?”

He’s blushing and looking away with a tiny pout

You realize that you were on a date and suddenly your heart is poundind and you just silently nod

And then he kisses you and its so soft and sweet

Then he runs away

Levi:

Video game time!! Which means competitions

Which means making bets

If he wins, he gets to kiss you 

He said it was a joke, but we all know he was trying his hardest to win

Three rounds

At a game you completely suck at

He did this on purpose. 

You obviously lose

“I win! But..you don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to! I mean, I don’t know why you’d wanna kiss a loser like me.”

“I want to.” “What?” “I want you to kiss me.”

Suddenly he gets so flustered and his face is all red

He starts stuttering but all you have to do is grab his hand

Levi looks at you and then

smooch

It’s quick and awkward but now he wants to have bets like this all the time

https://64.media.tumblr.com/c079a798fbcf72cb417bfe18e580cdd8/7c40ac6e565497ed-27/s540x810/0329251d21ab87bc7a724d78f92f136179bfa43c.gif

Satan:

I actually had already started writing a short story about this

You go to his room to study or read

You’re both chillin, not saying much just enjoying each other’s presence

You then want to show him something and he is close

He stares at you. You stare back

His eyes flick back and forth between your lips and your eyes

He leans in, his lips brushing against yours

When you don’t pull back, he goes in and kisses you

The both of you kinda get heated 

He finally pulls away for some air and rests his forehead against yours

“I’ve been waiting for that.”

Asmodeus:

With the way he’s so flirty, its a wonder how he didn’t make a move before

However, he’s kind of a romantic

He wants to have one of those cute movie kisses

Preferably in the rain

So he watches the weather, hoping, praying for some rain

And there is! 

He drags you outside despite your complaining

“Why are we standing in the rain” “So we can kiss!” 

You don’t know whether to be mad or kind of flattered that he wanted to kiss you in the rain

He goes all dramatic and dips you down, giving you a very wet kiss

He almost drops you as he squeals in happiness

“I did it! I finally did it!”

You hate him

Beelezebub:

Jesus he’s so damn CUTE

This is during a baking session for sure

Making some cookies for him the brothers

Things always get messy because he wants to eat everything every step of the way

You’re just finishing up the batter when he comes up behind you

“Can I have a taste?”

His deep voice scares you and you accidentally get batter on your face

You turn around and scowl at him

But…oh my god what is he doing?

“You have something on your face

He grabs your shoulders and brings you close. 

He licks the edge for your lips. 

“Tastes good,” He mumbles. “More.”

And then he kisses you

After it happens, you are red in the face and just bolt out of there

“What about the cookies?!”

Blephegor:

100% kisses you by accident

Its nap time which means you two are in his bed taking a nice long nap

While also hiding from Lucifer

You had woken up an hour ago, and saw that two have already passed

Belphie was still passed out cold

You tried moving, but instead was met with his arms wrapping around you

He let out a groan and a “Don’t go”

You can’t tell if he’s still asleep or not

“Belphie, I need to go pee. Let me go.”

He mumbles something and holds you tighter

You’re trying to pry yourself away from him when he starts kissing your neck. Then your jaw. Then your cheek

“More.”

And then he gives you a gentle kiss

You’re frozen as he opens his eyes then stares at you

“I just had the weirdest dream.”

“Yeah…”

[andypantsx3]

incendiary | 6 | bakugou x reader

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Fem Reader

length: 3.7k | 6th of 8 chapters

summary: When you accidentally go viral in defense of quirkless people, an extremist group puts a target on your back. Pro hero Dynamight is the last person you want watching it.

tags/warnings:  enemies to lovers, themes of discrimination (please see note in fic masterpost), canon typical violence, eventual smut, aged up characters

series masterlist

“Absolutely not,” Bakugou growled.

You just barely managed to step back as he reached for your laptop with one heavily-muscled arm. He swiped downwards as though he meant to shut it himself, physically closing the book on this discussion.

You let out a strangled noise, stumbling away, beating a quick retreat around the counter as the whisk he’d been using in the pancake batter clattered off the side of the bowl. You knew he could jump it if he really wanted, but the buffer between you made you feel better, although his instant rejection raised your hackles.

“Wait, why not?” you asked, although you’d been uncertain about the request yourself. It’s not like you had set out to accidentally become one of the most famous quirkless people in the country. Not to mention every time you stumbled back into public view, it seemed to just prolong your stay here, and put you in additional danger with Matsui and his group.

“Because it’s a fucking target on your back, idiot,” Bakugou said, pinning you with those scarlet eyes. “All this work to protect your bratty ass and you want to signal to Matsui right where you are?”

“Well, no,” you huffed. “But how many chances do you get to be on TV? This has to be carefully thought through.”

One blonde brow raised as Bakugou crossed his arms over his chest. You noted he was sleeveless again today, in nothing but a black tank, and all that bare muscle was looking especially pronounced at the moment—possibly from the workout you’d heard him finish a half hour ago . You forcibly dragged your eyes back up to his face, only to find he was watching you in disbelief.

Oh. Right. He was on TV like every day.

“Well, how many chances does a normal person get to be on TV?” you corrected, your face feeling hot for some reason.

The haughty, dismissive twist of Bakugou’s features made your back molars ache with that familiar need to bite him again.

“You’ve already been on TV and look where it got you, brat,” Bakugou said, returning to beating the pancake batter with a little too much vigor, his biceps straining.

Your gaze snapped to the motion of his arm, and you wisely chose not to pursue the subject any further, lest he deprive you of pancakes. Also your mouth was suddenly weirdly dry, and you felt a little bit like you needed to sit down.

This discussion could be put on pause for a minute.

You beat a hasty retreat from the kitchen instead, throwing yourself onto the couch where all your textbooks were still waiting for you, highlighter and pens uncapped where you’d dumped them all over the table. You sighed, flopping down and returning to your homework, feeling weirdly hot and displeased.

Bakugou was technically right. You ran a huge risk giving an interview on Japan’s biggest daily news show. And you didn’t even want to be famous—you wanted nothing to do with the level of internet notoriety you’d received, and you were so eager to be out of this damn safehouse. Now that Bakugou had apologized and you’d cleared the air, it somehow felt like the safehouse was even smaller than before.

Over the last few days, you and Bakugou had done an awful lot together. Cooking, eating, making actual human conversation. He’d also indicated he would let you watch one single hour of trash reality TV later this evening, which was almost nice of him. This entire morning, you’d found yourself compelled to spend time out in the living room while he cooked, trying not to peer at him over the top of your laptop screen as you finished up a paper.

All that interaction felt like you were occupying very close quarters, however, and that strange sense of tension was still there between you, though you couldn’t put your finger on quite what it was now. It was probably safest to evacuate the safehouse before anything came to a head.

You finished up your homework, trying to push the interview request to the back of your mind.

But it stuck around stubbornly, as if superglued to the forefront of your brain. There was this roiling feeling within you, like the one that had come just before your blowout with Bakugou. And his saying no only made things worse—it was like he’d lit a pilot light, dangerously close to a trail of gunpowder…

The request lingered in the back of your mind over the following days. It was there when you fell asleep, when you showered, when you brushed your teeth. It lurked in the cup of the measuring spoons as you and Bakugou cooked together once more, in the faces of the actors during your single permitted hour of “idiot TV”. For something you were fairly certain you could have said no to just a few days ago and never thought of again, it had alarmingly persistent sticking power.

On Sunday afternoon you found yourself blinking back to yourself in the shower, realizing you’d lost dozens of minutes to contemplation, staring sightlessly at the ugly floral curtain. You sank to the floor of the shower, huddling into a contemplative ball under its steady spray. A memory niggled at your mind, fuzzy, barely remembered, and yet disturbing in its intensity.

The flash of an ugly blue-and-green polo, a pasty leer, and a surge of white hot anger, climbing up your chest, into your throat, and then—and then—

And then the convenience store. The two men, advancing into the space you’d ceded. A request that they mind their own business and leave you to yours.

“You wouldn’t know a thing about minding your own business, you fucking freak,” echoed on loop in your brain.

Wouldn’t know a thing about minding your own business—because you had asked a bunch of QRAs to back off. To back off of people like you.

And…well didn’t that make it your business? Yours, more than anyone’s? You were the quirkless person whose very existence was being picked over. You were the quirkless person getting harassed on the street, in the classroom, in some random convenience store where you were just trying to buy a sandwich. You were the person trapped in a safehouse because someone wanted to murder you—all for minding what was exactly your own business.

Before you knew what you were doing, you’d risen back to your feet, and were shampooing your hair with a vengeance. You rocketed through your personal care and all but leapt out of the shower, and stuffed yourself into your change of clothes, still half-wet.

And then you found yourself peering into the living room, and risking the fragile peace you’d found with Bakugou once again.

“The fuck about ‘no’ are you not getting?” Bakugou demanded, whipping around to stare at you before the question had even finished leaving your own mouth. He was stretched out over the yoga mat, holding himself perfectly level, with his feet not even touching the ground.

You gaped, your mouth falling open as your brain went momentarily offline. All thoughts of the interview evacuated your mind. “What the fuck are you doing?” you demanded, your eyes flicking unwillingly to his straining biceps.

Bakugou’s red-eyed glare cut through you. “It’s a fucking pushup, idiot.”

Your head shook as your eyes lingered in the dips and swells of his muscles. That black tank top he was always wearing was slowly riding up over the flat plane of his stomach and you could just make out the shadow of an intimidating set of abdominals from this angle.

“Nuh uh,” you said stupidly.

A blonde eyebrow raised, and he slowly, agonizingly pushed himself into an impossible ninety degree angle and on into a fucking handstand.

You could feel how slack your jaw was but there was nothing you could do about your caveperson image. Your eyes were nailed to the trim waist and mouth-watering set of abs bared by this move. “You—pushup—that’s not—” you just managed to clamp your mouth closed as that horrible echo of pegnate?? gregnant?? tolled in the depths of your mind.

You were so focused on the flex of Bakugou’s arm as he lowered himself again that you almost missed the flash of a smirk across his mouth.

“Got something else to say, brat?” he asked.

The smugness in his tone raised your hackles, but it took you several more minutes to fumble around and locate your faculties for human speech. “I—yes, as a matter of fact. I’m doing the interview. And that’s not a question, it’s a statement.”

Bakugou pressed into another handstand, and then pushed up out of it, easy as anything. A vague sense of annoyance buzzed about you like a mosquito as he righted himself. Showoff.

“I already said you’re not, princess,” Bakugou said. Sweat glinted at his collar points and the line of his hair, giving him a faint glow in the afternoon sunlight. That sweet, tangy caramel scent met your nose again as he moved closer, crossing those biceps over his chest.

You tried not to go cross-eyed. “Well… I already said I am,” you told him, yanking your eyes firmly back up to his.

Something about the look on his face made your teeth ache to latch over his skin again, to clamp down and bite.

He leaned in, bringing a whiff of caramel with him, and you stumbled back a step, surprised. “You mean you’re not gonna be good for me, princess?” he asked, something smug thick in his tone.

Instantly your face flamed, the way it had a few days ago over breakfast. Good for him? Good for him? Your ears went so hot that the air around them chilled you.

“I’ll show you what’s good for you,” you said nonsensically, raising your hands to his chest to push him back, only to find he was as immovable as a stone wall, and as hard as one, too. Your hands froze on his pecs, your face getting even hotter with the heat of him under your hands.

A wicked smirk carved the sides of his mouth, and your brain suddenly fuzzed with static, panicking.

You couldn’t think—all you could do was reach up, catch a fistful of his hair, and yank him down into a headlock.

“Oi, what the fuck—” Bakugou swore, twisting. You clamped your arm down, panicking harder, realizing you’d just grabbed a trained combat professional, desperate to keep him down.

But Bakugou wasted no time. No sooner had you tensed your arm than he’d seized you under your legs and back, pushing you straight up and over his head. You flailed, trying to grab back onto him, but he swung you right down on the yoga mat he’d been occupying, grappling for your arms and pinning you down neatly. He managed it in under two seconds, and you stared up at him, dazed, taking in the incredulous look that split his stupid handsome face.

“What the fuck was that for, brat?” he demanded, his face filling up your entire vision.

“Showing you—what’s good for you—” you managed to cough out, winded.

A feral smile slashed across Bakugou’s mouth, completely unexpectedly. “I’ve met fuckin’ babies who can do better than that.”

You glared up at him, trying to angle your foot to kick him off of you, but he shifted, pressing his knee down on your leg in warning.

“You’re not doing the interview,” he said firmly, his tone final.

But you had already made up your mind, the second you’d sifted through those memories in the shower and realized just why the request had stuck with you. And not even pro hero Dynamight was enough force to stop you.

“Yes I am,” you told him, staring him straight in the eye. You tried to put all your conviction, all your determination and intent into your stare, into the firmness of your tone.

“For what?” Bakugou demanded hotly, his grip tightening on your wrists.

“For me!” you said. “I keep getting accused of not minding my own business, for being a nosy bitch or whatever, and I’m sick of it! Being quirkless is my business. I completely intended to mind my own business the night of the first video, going out with my friends and getting drunk, and it’s those QRA assholes who showed up on my campus in the first place! And then in the convenience store—all I was doing was trying to buy a sandwich!”

Bakugou’s mouth pressed into an annoyed line. “Yeah? And what are you even gonna say, brat?”

You grunted, trying to shift him off of you, but he held fast, pressing you down harder into the mat. “I want to give a real account of what it’s like to be a quirkless person who is minding their own business. Who was literally just living my life, uninvolved in any sort of activism or anything, and still got pulled into multiple situations where my life and my safety are threatened! The point is that ordinary people need to care about this stuff because it apparently can seep into your life whether you think you can avoid it or not. And some of us have been learning the hard way.”

Bakugou’s brows furrowed, his full mouth curling up in distaste like he hated to even be contemplating what you’d said. “So you wanna let Matsui know right where you are because you’re what—pissed off?”

For a moment, the only thought in your head was leaning forward and biting that expression right off of his face. Your whole brain was swirling with the barely-contained need to do something to him—until a revelation dawned on you.

You would be letting Matsui know right where you were.

Matsui, who had been waiting in the shadows like some sort of phantom harm. Matsui, who’d been bold enough to send a threat to your university, had been bold enough to run his mouth in all of the unsavory parts of the internet, but hadn’t yet been bold enough, or knowledgeable enough, to make his final move. Matsui—-who no one could actually touch or bring in until his threat was confirmed to be real.

And really, what better way to confirm than to draw him out?

You stared at Bakugou, your eyes running down his now-familiar features. That pert nose, that pretty mouth, always set in determination, those blazing scarlet eyes, always searching out a fight. His blond brows, still drawn down in focus, and the haughty tilt to his jaw. If there was one person equipped to handle Matsui, if he did come for you, it was the annoying pro hero currently pinning you to his yoga mat.

“What, scared to fight him?” you asked, knowing exactly the kind of reaction it would get from Bakugou.

His teeth gritted, and he leaned down to put his face into yours. “I ain’t scared of shit.”

“Then what’s the issue?” you asked. “Didn’t you say at the beginning that you wanted to hunt him down yourself and crush him?”

Bakugou’s expression darkened, getting slightly redder like he was getting angry, like he knew you were baiting him—but if there was one thing about him, it’s that he was an incredibly consistent personality. “I’ll fucking destroy him.”

You quickly suppressed the smile that threatened to overtake your mouth. “Good, then we’re in agreement.”

Bakugou looked almost apoplectic. “We are not in agreement, you goddamn brat,” he spat.

“You just said you were gonna destroy him!” you said. If your hands had been free, you would have thrown them up in exasperation.

“Jeanist has to agree to this idiot fucking plan, and he’s not gonna do that if it puts you at risk, you fucking brat. There’s no guarantee that Matsui wouldn’t bring a bunch of his quirk supremacist friends, it would be extremely easy for you to get your ass blown off the face of the earth. What makes you think you’d even fucking make it out of there in one piece?” Bakugou growled.

You looked up at him, slightly touched by the concern. But try as you might, you couldn’t imagine Bakugou of all people losing track of the fight and letting you get cremated. The more you insisted on this idea, the more you believed it yourself.

“Because I’ll have you,” you said simply.

Bakugou paused, blinking down at you through long, golden lashes. His face went suddenly still in a way that you hadn’t seen before, and without his features twisted up in disdain, he looked instantly, incredibly handsome. “What,” he said flatly.

You squirmed a little in his grip, embarrassed by how sincerely you meant it. But you pushed on. “Because I trust you to protect me,” you said. “You have so far. And you’ve proved I was wrong about you before. You haven’t given me a reason not to trust you.”

Bakugou’s face spasmed, like he was desperately trying to not feel human emotion, but you could see the way the tips of his ears went pink through the ashy blonde strands of his hair.

You thought this had been a rather effective play on your part, though you did mean it. He’d saved you once before, made you tea and food and let you cry in front of him like a big dramatic baby. He’d apologized, and spent the last week trying to make it up to you, albeit aggressively, by letting you get away with more and trying to feed you real meals.

Actions spoke loudly, and Bakugou’s actions had proven himself to you, as far as you were concerned.

Those scarlet eyes cut away from you, focusing on some point on the floor to the left of your head, and it was then you knew you’d gotten him.

“You’re a goddamn pain in my ass,” he said, his voice slightly more gravelly than before. “You can go on one fucking condition.”

You nodded eagerly, thrilled with your success. “Okay. Yes. Whatever it is, yes.”

Bakugou’s lip curled, and his gaze cut back to yours. “You’re going to learn self-defense before you go on that stupid fucking show.”

You blinked. “In less than a week? During finals week?”

“As much as I say you will,” he growled, raising his eyebrows at you significantly.

You got the impression then that this was a non-negotiable point for him. And much as you doubted you’d been an expert by the time Thursday rolled around, you couldn’t deny the idea had merit. You probably weren’t going to take out Matsui himself, but it wouldn’t hurt to know how to suppress someone with a lesser quirk.

“Okay,” you said, nodding. “I’ll do it.”

Bakugou shifted over you so he was crouched over you, almost sitting on your stomach, still pinning your wrists down at the side of your head. A mean smirk overtook his face again, and a warning light flicked on in the back of your brain.

“First lesson, then, brat. Try to get out of this hold,” he said.

You stared up at him in disbelief, incredulity and annoyance instantly bubbling up in your veins like they’d just been set on a hot stove. “Now? Get out of this?” you demanded.

Bakugou’s smile was a wicked, feral thing, and it made something hot curl in your stomach, even more disconcerting than your annoyance. “If you wanna make it to your computer in time to respond to the email, then you’d better hurry up,” he said.

Immediately you started bucking in his hold, trying to shove him off of you with the raise of your hips, trying to twist out of his grip like a spineless jellyfish. Bakugou held you down, looking far too self-satisfied, and way too relaxed, like this was child’s play to him, while you struggled for your life. You kicked and curled and squirmed but none of it would dislodge him, and the insane urge to fucking bite him rose within you again, blotting out all rational thought.

Before you had realized what you were doing, you’d turned your head and brought your mouth to one of the arms holding you down. And then you leaned up and bit him right in the middle of his bicep, clamping down for all you were worth.

“What the fuck—!” Bakugou shouted, suddenly pulling his hands off of you just as hot, reflexive sparks of his quirk shot out of his palms. The motion jerked the skin of his arm out of your mouth, and you could see the ring of your tooth marks left in the firm muscle, smell the ashy sweetness of his quirk heat the air around you.

You realized he’d only moved to protect you, but that was enough of a surprise for you to buck him off of you, sliding quickly out from underneath him.

He recovered quickly enough, catching you by the scruff of your shirt and slamming you back down on the yoga mat. He covered you with his body again, his palms still hot from his quirk.

“What the fuck was that you goddamn brat?” he demanded.

You gave him your shittiest, smuggest grin. “Self defense,” you said. “And I escaped your hold, even if only for a second, so I win.”

Bakugou looked beyond pissed.

“You’re gonna get it, you shitty fucking brat,” he told you warningly, his tone going darker.

But you didn’t care. You were far too satisfied with your unexpected win, and the realization of your desire to bite him that had compounded over the course of your isolation with him.

You loved the look of him, incredulous, furious, and so impossibly golden and handsome over you—this, you thought wildly, was worth any revenge he could think up. This was exactly how you wanted him.

And then Bakugou moved, his revenge swift and merciless.

He uttered your name like an oath, ducked his head. And then he caught your mouth in a kiss—hot and furious.

And the tension you had sensed building all along finally snapped.

[i-cant-sing]

Would you ever consider doing platonic yanderes where the reader is the characters mom? Reader is married to the dad and the whole family is yandere?

(Example; Reader is married to Enji (a romantic yandere) and the kids are platonic yanderes to their mom (reader), either Rei doesn’t exist or Reader is their stepmom)

Or reader finding the LOV when they were kids and just adopting them herself instead of them going down the villain path and they become platonic yanderes for the mother that wanted and loved them? (I’m a sucker for platonic yanderes)

-💗

Been there, done that. Have u read Yandere overhaul as a president au???? Its literally that, with Overhaul being yandere for his fake wife reader so that he could gain popularity and become president, and then they have triplets- Dabi, Himiko and Tomura, all of who are yanderes for their mommy. And I take it a step further by making the entire world yandere for reader.

I have thought about another au where reader, just barely entering into adulthood, suddenly has to adopt Dabi (she took him in after he ran away from home and found him sleeping in an alley). She worked very hard to bond with Dabi, and after a few months, he finally began opening up to her affection (he let's her cuddle him, and kiss his forehead before tucking him in her bed while she takes the couch because she knows Dabi has still has some issues with physical touch). Despite having little to no savings, she puts him in school (the same place where she works part time as a janitor. Though she hides herself when he's with his classmates because she doesn't want him to feel ashamed- not that he ever would). There's been one to many times when reader didn't know where the next meal would come from, but she made sure Dabi never went to sleep hungry (she would work as a server at parties and would sneak some of the food into her bag for him). Reader fell sick quite a few times because of how overworked she was, but she never had the money to get herself some medicine. However, she always found a way to get Dabi the very expensive ointment for his burns and scars. She always wore used clothes and sewed them with patches wherever they were torn, and she'd outgrown her shoes 2 years ago, but she made sure that Dabi was always well dressed, and he always got brand new clothes (she never wanted him to feel inferior to his peers. She knows how mean kids could be.) And somehow, even with multiple jobs, she made sure to be there for him on all important days, celebrated all his achievements no matter how small, and even when Dabi grows up, he can't wrap his head around why you would do all of that? How could one be so selfless, especially to a stranger she knew nothing about?

In fact, there was even a time when Dabi ran away from your house, feeling guilty for what you'd been putting yourself through for him and how he had hurt your feelings after a stupid argument. He was in shock when he saw you running around the city looking for him, tears in your eyes as you asked people to help you find "my son!" And when you finally found him, the first thing that came out of your mouth was,

"Are you okay?"

Not anger, Not rage for worrying you- but genuine concern for his well being. Dabi all but ran into your arms and broke down, sobbing into your chest and he never had to say it out loud for you to understand how sorry he was.

From there on, you two had a good relationship. I could see that perhaps reader finds a stable job as a barista at a cafe, and a part time tutor (because she is well educated), and perhaps she had been hired by Tomura's parents to teach him and his sister, and you were the best teacher they had. Then one day, Tomura accidentally murdered his family and you only found him because you were on your way to tutor him. The trauma in his eyes, in his face- it was all enough for you to understand that he didn't want this to happen. So, you reach for him, but be he jumps back, claiming that he'd kill you. You don't know what happened, but you talked to him, calmed him down, and when you finally reached for him, he didn't pull back. And when you didn't turn into a pile of ashes (maybe because of a hidden quirk, maybe because you had calmed him down), he all but jumped into your arms, wanting all the warmth and comfort you could provide. You of course, took him home and didn't contact the police because that would've turned everything to shit for Tomura and he was far to young to be experiencing cops and courts and investigations, who yo were sure would find a way to incriminate him and send him go jail or worse. You had introduced Dabi to Tomura and told him that he would staying here.

Dabi being jealous and protective of you, snarled "For how long?"

You smiled and rubbed Tomura's back in a comforting manner. "For as long as he'd like."

While reader being poor and helpless and working herself to the bone would be the typical plot to go, how about a reader who is rich- Maybe a year after she adopted Dabi, she has suddenly got a hefty inheritance from a distant relative. The first thing she does is legally adopt Dabi (with his consent of course), then adds his name in her will (he was very moved by it, but he cried alone in his room). Then Tomura comes along, and she also adopts him legally and the two "brothers" are always fighting with each other, only stopping around you because of how gravely it upsets you when they don't get along. From a very young age, you had told them that the two of them are family and they always have to stick together, have each other's backs no matter what. So while they act amicably in front of you, the moment you leave the room, they are at each other's necks.

Now that you're rich and the boys are all grown up, you decide its time for you to find love. But Dabi and Tomura have other plans.

One thing that they do agree upon is that no man or woman you date is ever gonna be good for you. So all of your dates are always gonna end up missing or ghosting you. I can also see them actively trying to prevent you from adopting more kids because they don't like to share, they don't want other greedy assholes (aka poor orphans) taking advantage of your kindness.

Maybe after you give them control of your company and decide to retire and go on a vacation, Dabi and Tomura will hire men to keep tabs on you, protect you, put a tracker on you so that they know where you are at all times. And when they find out that you're on a vacation with a "secret lover", their blood boils, more so when they find out that your s/o has proposed to you and you agreed.

IMMEADIATELY you're flown back home by their bodyguards, and you can struggle all you want, their not letting you go (although Dabi and Tomura had ordered them not to a hurt a hair on your head. You're just too soft and fragile). When you're brought home and find out that it was your own sons who did this, you are furious, yelling at them that that they can't do this.

Dabi narrows his eyes at you. "Of course, we can. We're looking out for you because you don't know whats good for you. Like lying to us and going out with some measly pervert."

Your eyes widened. How did he know? "You've been spying me-?"

"Its for your own good." Tomura said, cupping your cheek. "You're old now, so you can't take care of yourself. Just let us do it. Listen to us."

You recoiled back from him, confusion evident on your as you looked back and forth between them. What are they talking about?

"I- I don't understand this- you shouldn't be spying on me! I'm an adult! I can take care of myself. And who I date or see is not your concern! I'm well equipped to make my own decisions! And then to have me dragged here with no explanation! What would s/o think?! You've embarrassed me in front of him!" You scolded them but they both shared a look. "I'm gonna have to call him back, but this isn't over!"

"You don't have to worry about him anymore, mom." Tomura said, and you began to worry when he didn't offer an explanation.

"What do you mean?"

Dabi spoke this time, face stoic as ever. "He's been taken care of."

What?

The longer they remained silent, the more the daunting realisation hit you.

"I- no..."

Seeing the terrified look on your face, Dabi attempted to comfort you by grabbing your forearms.

"He's been taken care of. You won't ever see him again."

"No- no!" You began to struggle in his arms, trying to break free but he towered over you and held you tighter. "No! You didnt- no! Let go! LET GO! LET GO! LET GO! LET GO-!"

Tears slipped from your eyes at the silent confession of a heinous crime came from your sons, the news being too much as you lost consciousness, both from the shock and from the tiredness.

Dabi lifted you up and began walking to your room, tucking you under the covers as you felt them kiss your cheek, too tired to even flinch away from the murderers.

Perhaps they're right. Maybe you are too old now.

[coffeegnomee]

Why the Eclipse Federation is so beloved for so long. An essay about Story.

In the book “Story Genius: How to use brain science to go beyond outlining and write a riveting novel” author Lisa Cron proposes:

“What drives a story forward is, at first blush, invisible. It’s not talent. It’s not voice. It’s not the plot. Think electricity. The same way even the most powerful lamp is useless unless it’s plugged in, a story can’t engage readers without the electricity that illuminates the plot, the voice, and the talent, bringing them to life.

The question is: what, specifically, generates that juice?

The answer is: it flows directly from how the protagonist is making sense of what’s happening, how she struggles with, evaluates, and weighs what matters most to her, and then makes hard decisions, moving the action forward. This is not a general struggle, but one based on the protagonist’s impossible goal: to achieve her desire and remain true to the fear that’s keeping her from it. As we’ll explore in detail, story is not about the plot, or what happens. Story is about how the things that happen in the plot affect the protagonist, and how he or she changes internally as a result” (bold added) 

And more to the point, “You can’t write about how someone changes unless you know, specifically, what they’re changing from.”

———

Where we begin

We launch the Eclipse Federation arc with PrinceZam telling his tale to ItzSubz_ in Detroit. Zam has just left his team because they duped thousands of items, terrorized the server, and were unwilling to let go of this unfair advantage. He tells how he battled them on the nether roof, lost everything, and was exiled. He was chased down, followed to his castle and was terrorized every day until he was killed over and over (#stonesword). He’s lost everything. He needs a team, he needs friends. 

This is where our story begins, a hero who has a specific and definitive backstory, something that compels him to reach out to our inciting incident: speaking to Subz when he’s on 2 hearts. 

Subz, seeing everything that has happened, sympathizes with Zam citing that he thinks they have both been wronged by the server and it’s time they stopped letting that happen. 

This is where the tragedy begins. 

Subz operates under the assumption that Zam wants to get back at those who wronged him. Zam agrees with this in the moment. 

But Subz fails to realize that it is the exploits that caused Zam to be wronged: if the exploits hadn’t happened, if the dupe war hadn’t happened, Zam would never have left his team and he, in turn, would never have been terrorized for weeks. 

And above anything else, Subz fails to realize that Zam does not want to be on a team that exploits.

Our hero, with a definitive backstory, is placed in a situation that directly places tension on that selfsame backstory.

The days go by and the team, now including Vitalasy, grows together, bonding over shared fights, laughing and joking, creating silly bedrooms with the most obnoxious blocks possible. 

All is well.

Then Ashswag reveals that he can one-tap any player, in any amount of armor, he has seemingly infinite amounts of totems, and he’s acting like he’s on a power trip, giggling and evading questions. 

Exploits have returned to the LifestealSMP.

Zam’s heart sinks as he realizes that something huge is brewing on the server. And it’s worse than any duped item he previously had been involved with.

Confused and hurt, he reaches out to his team to figure out what their next steps will be. How they’ll fight this disaster. 

But tragedy strikes again. Thanks to the beauty of streamed content, Subz accidentally goes live instead of starting a recording and he reveals that he and Vitalasy are the cause of these new exploited items and that they are very upset with Ash for showing them off. Because of this mistake, they decide to tell Zam everything.

Suddenly, against all odds, against all logic, against all reason, our main character is once again on a team who is using exploits and is unwilling to let them go.

It baffles the mind. How could he have been so clear with Subz about the reason behind him leaving Team Awesome and Subz still let him on the team knowing they had this exploit plan.

Once again it’s the beauty of streamed content that has brought our main charater into the most absurd of situations: they’re friends. Genuinely. Outside of content. Of course Subz brought him onto the team. Why would he not.

The reasons for the situation are simple, but the gravity of them affects Zam deeply. 

Our hero has to face a situation that directly relates to his past, as struggle of friendship vs values. 

No longer is this a situation of school yard bullying, creating obsidian prisons at spawn and using duplicated items to win fights; this is an apocalyptic situation. Lifesteal season 4 will end if this exploit is not stopped. What was obsidian is now bedrock, what was duped netherite is now one-tap potions, what was once withers destroying spawn are now mysterious creatures that kill players instantly.

So our hero has to face not only the apocalypse, but also himself. Battling against his love of his friends and his need for community and safety, while also battling for the safety of everyone on the server.

These streams slowly unfold a dark reality that anyone who has every been in a bad relationship has had to face. What do you do when the person you love is no longer recognizable? 

When your values are no longer aligned, have never been aligned? 

Do you leave them? Do you stay? Do you hope you can change them? 

How do you process the fact that they lied to you, let you in knowing that you are diametrically opposed to something that they were secretly doing? How do you process that it was an accident? That you hadn’t communicated the depth of the importance of this value (not exploiting) well enough so they didn’t pick up on it as important to communicate from the start?

How do reconcile lies that are told to your face? How do you stand up for yourself in the face of gaslighting? 

To quote Lisa Cron again, “The purpose of story - of every story - is to help us interpret, and anticipate, the actions of ourselves and of others.” (bold added)

This is the foundation of why this arc was so tragic, so compelling. Why it sticks in my mind for over a year now, the details as clear and crisp as the day I watched the streams. I can still see the actions being played out in that Minecraft blocky world like it was yesterday. The deepslate tiles of the communication room, the glowing yellow and purple and red signs, the prison in the sky, the exchange of trust apples. 

It’s not about the apocalypse, it’s about one man’s battle within himself. So he leaves the team. Sticks up for himself and stakes a claim against exploits.

But the tragedy continues. As the days pass we realize that maybe Vitalasy was telling the truth and he isn’t going to be the villain. Everything contradicts this opinion. He’s flying, he’s one-tapping Planet in the prison, he’s using the potions. He’s going insane but remaining delusional. 

And yet he continues to insist he’s not evil. He’s good. 

Every storytelling tactic says this man should be the villain and yet he refuses to do so (creating some new interesting content as the streamers have to contend with other members who don’t act within the rules of Play and of Content).

Eventually Vitalasy burns all his exploited items. Zam, left in abject frustration, releases a chunk ban which only bans Mapicc. Giving up, he leaves. And Vitalasy bans himself, throwing himself off the prison over and over, sealing the story that he is not the villain. He was misunderstood.

To quote the Mer essay “anger transmute(s) into grief as if by magic” and FarmerZam is born. The story has affected our protagonist deeply and he has changed. He has no enemies. He refuses to look at how he’s hurt his friends because it’s simply too painful. Everything that could have gone wrong has. 

Then Subz revives Vitalasy. Takes him around the server to their old bases while Vitalasy remains in depression about being misunderstood. He doesn’t want to be here. 

But as Subz reveals the final base, before they go through the end portal, Vitalasy catches a glimpse of a new sign room, one filled with depressive thoughts. The same thoughts he has been having this whole stream. You can almost hear his posture fix as he realizes the state of mind Subz is in. He needs to convince Subz to stay.

But we all know what happens, the trajectory of lives are changed. Subz has Vitalasy kill him, banning him off for the rest of the season, promising to be back when Vitalasy needs him most, but for no one else. 

Zam sees the death message and panics. He needs answers, he needs to bring Subz back. He’ll do anything to bring him back since it was Subz, it always has been Subz, who took him in when he had nothing. He realizes in a flash that he cares more about the friendship than about any values he held. But it’s too late now.

The tension, the sorrow stays. Zam decides to repair all his old friendships before the wormhole opens and this world ends. Vitalasy is forgiven. Spoke, Mapic, Ro. Planet, Bacon, Jaron. Everyone he betrayed. Everyone he let down.

But he forgot about Pangi. 

But Pangi didn’t forget about him. He has always been there for Zam, but Zam time and again has abandoned him. He’s had enough. With the server ending, he’s going to get his amends, make him repent (thanks Chips. I mean. Credit to the artist)

He traps Zam in bedrock. 

And Zam breaks. 

Friendships, betrayal, enemies. Everything comes full circle. It seems you can’t escape your past just as you can’t escape being on the exploit team.

Once again we enter the story with a defined background, but this time it breaks Zam completely. 

It’s not about exploits. It’s not about fairness. It’s about friendship. It’s about Subz. Subz was the only one who truly cared about him. He didn’t bring him onto the team maliciously, he really and truly cared about Zam and now he was Gone. Grief wells to the surface, Subz’s words about getting back at everyone who wronged them rings in his ears. 

He’s going to talk to Spoke and end the world. 

But his heart rebells even now. He’s betraying everyone again. But he’s sick of betraying. He won’t do it again, no matter how much chat tries to convince him Spoke is just using him and doesn’t care about him.

He’s going to end the world so that Subz will come back. 

And then the pièce de résistance. Subz IS revived. And he’s disappointed in Zam for changing sides and joining the exploiters when he left them because if it.

The depths of that final conversation makes Zam’s story the most insane tragedy. It has been 5 months of near daily or every other day developments on this story. The twists and turns have produced laughter and tears, cheering, anger, frustration, satisfaction, depression. 

And in the end? Subz still chose Vitalasy. Man how I wanted them to take him back in that moment. But what was done was done. These are the consequences of our actions. 

And in the end the circle comes to another completion: he’s back on a team with Mapicc, the same person he betrayed over the duped exploits. They promise each other to end the server with everyone banned, no matter what anyone else has to say. In the end they jump into the portals together and the server is moved to season 5. (I too, in union with where Zam ended his video, think it’s a good place to end the plot here rather than with that final scene on the grass. This is the last character decision he made)

———

The Present Moment

Zam was talking on stream a few days ago about how Kaboodle wanted to know why Eclipse was so beloved still. Mer’s essay came up (which I read and absolutely loved), but the essay talks more about the dynamics of the streamers themselves and how their relation to Play made the story compelling to watch. Which it absolutely does, and I’ve written about how much this has reframed how I view Lifesteal.

But I think that only covers one aspect. The deeper reason why there’s still fanart being drawn of Eclipse is how Zam created (and/or was handed) one of the most tragic plot lines ever created by man, and how he allowed himself to be affected by the story, and how he brought it alive through his streams as he “struggles with, evaluates, and weighs what matters most to [him], and then makes hard decisions, moving the action forward.”

And this is why Zam is so beloved by the community in general. This is how he approaches every arc on Lifesteal. Most recently the Joker arc launched from the Abyss betrayal, which in turn, after his ban the first day of hardcore, turned into the possession arc as he realizes his love of Mapicc and Ro goes beyond his obsession with Minute and Jumper. 

Each note of Lifesteal flows into the other as he lets us into the inner workings of his mind as he weighs one decision from another.

Because at the end of the day, I remember the tragedy, the longing for friendship and the betrayals, more than I will ever remember the circular reasoning of Vitalasy or the “okay”’s from pb&j. I only remember the strained voice of Zam as he wrote signs and went in circles trying to reconcile the fact that he couldn’t stay on a team and he couldn’t leave. How he was being dangled off the edge of a cliff being held up by Vitalasy. How Minute just doesn’t get it, he needs to be shown what Lifesteal is. His maniacal laughs as the Joker. Zam allows the story to affect him and he uses every ounce of it to create even more. 

As Branzy said in the therapy session “It’s a human story. About what humans are.”

To their credit, Subz and Vitalasy also allowed themselves to be affected by the story. Without Vi banning himself because he was so misunderstood, and Subz bringing him back to ban him so that Eclipse could have some sort of ending, and without Subz doing so much lore with Zam in 1 on 1 conversations, we wouldn’t have the same story.

The same with Pangi finishing his lore by trapping Zam because Zam didn’t do the god-off with him. The same with Ash being Ash and flexing his god powers. The same with Spoke bringing Zam into the team and then getting caught up in managing the wormhole so he didn’t have time for 1 on 1’s with Zam to make him feel totally accepted as a valuable member. The same with Mapicc always being willing to let go of the past to save himself as well as never letting go of the past so he has something to do on the server. The same with Planet talking to Zam and Bacon and figuring out how to fight the exploits and realizing they needed to convince Zam to betray. The same with Branzy giving the craziest therapy session lifesteal has ever seen. Without each member allowing themselves to be affected by the story, the story doesn’t go anywhere. 

[your-local-hoemie]

I've genuinely never put in a request for something before so ur the first T.T

I was wondering, what would happen if you just wandered into scaramouche's room?

Im sorry if this is oddly specific, but I was hoping for a NS!FW M4M, possibly with Balladeer instead of wanderer, and if you do this thank you so much :))

NS!FW. 18+ ONLY!!!

OF COURSE!!!! Thank you for asking!!!!

You’ll have to forgive me if it’s not great. Even though I edge more towards masc im still not 100% sure how dudes work djdhdu

Also good lord, I went kind hard (hah) with this one, my cheeks were gLOWING while writing this. I’m never seeing heaven istg 💀

Edit: I accidentally went a little off script because I got extremely flustered so I’m sorry T-T

Warnings: ns!fw, dom!scaramouche (he needs his own warning), mild degradation, mean words, bratty behaviour, smug little shittery, lots of spicy words, swearing, male!reader, not proof-read.

Characters: scaramouche as: The ✨Balladeer✨

Scaramouche and you had a weird relationship.

No one knew whether you hated each other or if you were actually close.

Including you-

Sometimes you’d be at each other throat with any sharp object you could find and then the next, you’d be defending the other for whatever morally questionable crimes you had committed.

You happened to be one of the unfortunate fatui members that had been assigned to Scaramouche.

You don’t really know how he didn’t decide to murder you for your instinctive comebacks whenever he’d insult you.

He’s never admit it but he enjoyed having someone to banter with that wouldn’t immediately shit themselves the second he glanced at them.

Which is why you were now in his office for…

Well you didn’t really know.

He was busy doing paperwork that he was making extremely obvious that he hated every second of.

You were sitting in a chair across the room from him, equally as bored.

“So what exactly do you need me for… sir”

“To sit there and shut up.”

“…why?”

Letting out a sigh, Scara rolling his eyes, waving your questions off.

“You know, I’m supposed to be doing work. Going out, getting information, torturing, stealing, all the good stuff. Not sit in a room with a pouty brat-”

Clearing your throat, you suddenly realise what you had done.

Oh shit-

With a glare more threatening than a cryo mage in the rain. Scara placed his pen neatly down on the table, carefully organising the papers in front of him with sly grin.

Double shit-

“You know, you do a lot of talking for someone who can’t even handle to be alone in a room with their boss for more than an hour”

“Yeah well you’re not really the most enjoyable to be around…boss.”

The balladeers grin became even more sly as I pushed the chair away from his desk, standing up and taking a few steps forward, positioning himself right in front of you.

“I’ve had a very stressful day and I think I could use a little worshiping. Why don’t you use that mouth for something other than pathetic remarks, hm~?”

“Excuse me-?”

Without a hint of hesitation or shame, the harbinger placed his hand on your head. Most likely relishing the feeling of actually being taller than someone for once.

“Don’t act like our… banter doesn’t get you hard. I’ve seen the way you squirm when I get a little too close~”

Scaramouche pressed your head close to his crotch, speaking with a tone laced in sly smugness.

“I know you’ve imagined what I could do to you. I bet you even stroke yourself to the thought of me. Having the hand of a deity stroke you~”

Obviously he was right. Which just annoyed you even more, causing your pride to outweigh the sheer embarrassment coursing through your veins at his lewd words.

“You know how much shit you’d be in if I told anyone about this, right?

Scaramouche frowned at your remark, swiftly taking your chin in his hand and forcing you to look up at him.

“If a word of this leaves your mouth to anyone other than me, I will make you wish that I killed you. Understand me?”

Feeling your words catch in your throat, you give him a irritated nod, unable to fully deny how hot the whole situation was becoming.

“Good. Now, be a good for your god and worship me the way I deserve.”

Smirking down at you, Scara unbuttoned his shorts, letting his already hard dick bounce out against your face, making him sigh out in satisfaction.

“I always thought you looked so much better on your knee’s~ now suck.”

Blushing violently and not even able to deny how turned on you were, you locked eyes with The Balladeer and took him inside your mouth.

“Good boy~ just like that..”

Petting your hair with a surprising amount of gentleness, Scara pushed your head back and fourth, making you gag as his tip hits the back of your throat.

“Why don’t you touch yourself for me like the desperate, horny slut you are~”

Letting out a small, muffled whimper, you knew you were completely at his mercy as you couldn’t help but move your hand down, touching yourself as he commanded.

Scara thrust his hips more intensely, picking up his speed as moans and grunts escape his lips causing you to match his speed with your hand.

Feeling his hand grip tighter on your head, with one finally thrust and a loud groan of pleasure, scara finally released himself down your throat, pushing you over the edge as you coat your hand and pants in your load.

“Mmh! You’re such a good fuck toy,m. Now make sure to clean up the mess m’kay?”

Pulling out, leaving a messy string of saliva mixed with his load; Scara took a deep breath and returned to his paperwork like nothing happened, leaving you panting and and mess on the floor, still somewhat dazed.

“Y-yes…sir…”

HSIDUDICUIDJDIVUDO AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

squeaks 👺👨‍🦽👹🧍

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Hiii saw your requests open and i thought why not give it a shot. I love your stories, I'm more attached to your style of writing melancholy like on floret, counting coins, better left unsaid and always the angel never the god. So, just a random idea to throw out there you can do whatever with it:

Hiccup and yn were engaged early on. Yn is a bit older and fitter to follow around Stoick to learn how to defend and manage Berk. Yn feels sorry for Hiccup and tries to make him enjoy his youth and time with his friends more while she made him handle the rest. Leading to a misunderstanding that he didn't feel needed when in fact he did have a crush on her with how she doted on him and how cool she looked fighting dragons and ordering people around. While she liked him for his thoughtful caring side but still envied his freedom and creativity.

That's pretty much it idk lmao it was just a word puke. That's just the gist no need to be word for word, if it's too much i completely understand but truly want to praise your eloquence and how you caught me right in the feels augh. Thank you for your time! 🦀

Wildflower

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Fiance!Reader

Words: 2119

With the babbling mouth of a child now long grown and a hidden, lost soul, there is no one who could relate more to his current circumstance. There is one problem, though- how is a sort-of-wimpy ex-runt going to win your heart?

Tags: Mild age difference, requited-as-adults, fem!reader, heavy exposition, non-canon politics, original characters

Next>

His arms ached in a way that was heavy, stiff and hard even as they loosened and dipped under their burden as if the body of a sapling had been shot right through the bone.

He paid them no mind, eyes drawn to the wild world on the outside even as he grunted and struggled. 

With a jerk, dropping the sword, he with a strength he’d never really been able to spend on the all things that really mattered. There was a hefty clatter and a clang, the sound no less thick than the bang of a heavy bell or a gong, long metal body slamming and dancing against stone.

 His feet and legs stuttered as he stepped both forwards and back, palms roughly meeting the wood of the counter, bouncing eagerly as if he might begin to run or be startled into action.

There had been a shout- something indignant, deeper than normal, not so much a battle cry yet no less defiant and sure. He thought he might have known it- he had to look. 

The feel of smoothed, aged wood beneath his palms, both flatter and rounder than liquid, solid and uninterrupted- the sound of warring battle-cries from the world outside and the sweltering feel of heat from both the forge and the terrible reign of dragonfire and sharp teeth and clawed mouth- all of it came secondary to his searching, the bulk of him overshadowed by the hefty forge window

It was too early in the battle and the warriors of Berk had been too prepared for there to have been a line outside the door, and well- most of everyone had already left for the other side of the island, where the assault had been most violent.

He felt the burn on the side of his hand as he brought his hand back, grazing it against the side of the table- he’d accidentally pressed it against the face of the sander’s belt. It’d stung and buzzed with a thickness not unlike the feeling of folded cloth crusted in dragon spit or the hard skin on the bottom of an old foot, though the skin on his own palm, he knew, wasn’t so thick or stubborn.

Past raging orange flames and scorching yellows he saw you, lonesome, outlined like a shadow in the light across the clearing. 

Your shoulders were stiff and your stance full as you swung the hard, metal-rimmed bottom of a bucket against the head of a beast- a Gronkle, its thick, green-brown head giving way to a wide maw as it bellowed.

 It bled, its blood splattering across your face as if it were naught but a shock of light or darkness made liquid; as if, instead, it was you who had been violently cut and not it.

There was no vicious, beautiful Astrid here to ogle at- not now, as there had been in the before times and as there would be later- no, just you. 

You, who had been meant for him… At least, he thought so. 

He wasn’t completely confident in the fact- the whole thing went rather unspoken of. It wasn’t a taboo per se, more something that lay heavy, made clear through few words a long time ago then made obscure by the lengths of time and age.

Still, there came a suresty with it even if there wasn’t much of a bond between the two of you, something that, for him, acted as a heavy comfort. In times like these, he leaned into it, felt the lump in his chest beat against it like his bones were nothing but taut leather and wood.

Blazing red hair, nearly imperceptible against the raging fires as she swung an axe- it took you a while to find any of the others.

Before you was fiery Tove, a tallish Viking girl-woman from a house named ‘Alfson,’ not so influential as it was just there and nearly forgotten. In it, she was like a polished gem among a lot of plain, unassuming stones. She was also a member of your peer group, aged older by about nearly a winter. She’d been born in the warmer month, when the sun was at its hottest and the earth was at its greenest.

You settled by her with crossed arms, close enough to be recognized as part of the group and yet not close enough to hint towards any one specific alliance. 

It was the darkest of nights above yet the fires rendered it light as day. You tried your hardest not to inhale any of the soot as you watched the rest -the two of four, really- fooling, knocking into each other with rough shoulders as you worked where it really mattered.

Your peer group was a large one. The number of you here was only a smallish fraction of a whole, the rest drawn away in the moment by other troubles and politics.

They’d grown complacent in the chaos, used to the raging fires and battle as you all were, carelessly leaving the fires around to burn and eat away at everything. You kept yourself still and casual in spite of it, knowing that, here, words and tussles were just as dangerous as the rock-shattering jaws of any beast.

Brigading was a task born more to temper the fires of the eager younger men more than it was to assure the sanctity of the village, though no task was without its uses- more often than not, however, you all ended up taking up a weapon and battling to your own ends.

Still, you took it seriously. 

You’d not so much been invited into the brigade as you’d one day picked up a bucket and started helping along in silence, though you probably would have been asked along eventually. 

Approval from the others had been slow to garner and yet it was strong, anchoring- you’d no intention of trying to shake it, though you believed it would be hard to.

With the thick wooden handle lying clenched within one hand, you stopped above the smooth, round top of a viking helmet, resting your foot against it as if you were at the edge of a cliff with a sword.

You’d rather be, at least in the day, when the smoke would be blown out and the air fresh and clear.

“-Codswallop!” The one with the protestant words was Duckmaw, who belonged to a set of intimidating burly arms and short-cropped, burned blonde-ish hair typically hidden under a helmet that had made him look bald, soot darkened face scratched and laying posed under your fuzzy brown boot. 

He was unusually brawny and bold for his breed but was also just as soft- he was an Ingerman. Ingermans, though bustingly fierce as any other Viking, also tended to be the most tempered.

“You lot are all the same- tubby poets, you are!” Bjorner spoke back with sharper words. He was the second, and a Thorston, though his second name, Evenson, did not quite match his ties. He also didn’t quite stand on par with his blood, a bit thicker and more prone to jumping into battle than the rest of his clan, who preferred a good bit of taunting first. 

His family was a branch-off- one of many, as there tended to be with the Thorstons. “Gooey hearts and even weaker swords.”

“Your words are of poor taste, though I’d expect no less from a bastard!” Duckmaw shrugged aggressively forwards, jerking away, half turning before he thought to face Bjorner again, stepping closer this time. He looked quite silly with his rounder, younger face and slightly more plump body, standing nearly chest-to-chest with a man who was about two winners his senior.

Absent from your lot were a Hilde and an Arne, who was a plump and tall, honorable nearly-man with blonde hair who was suspiciously absent. Away in a fashion that remained unexplained or pondered was a Jorunn, Frode and Hjerson and a Njal.

“Agh, the lot of them,” Trove spoke appealingly, panting slightly, having brought herself to your side, nudging you in the shoulder. She was thicker than you by about a half and a great deal taller, so her elbow landed more against the top of it than along the side, “We womenfolk know better, yes?”

You gave her a skeptical, apathetic eye before turning your attention back to the conflict, standing still and firm- she hadn’t knocked you hard enough to unbalance you though she had given you quite the hard jab, albeit half of it must have been without intention, the other half with surety and mild competition.

Trove didn’t take so much offense, probably more used to your silence and your stoic behavior now than before, when she also used to grace you with a gruff, judging eye.

“I’m no bastard!” Bjorner barked deeply, squaring his shoulders and stepping forwards again. You couldn’t make out all of it, the sound of splintering wood and the white noise of cooking everything raging for but a moment. “But at least my mother’s no manky whore!”

Gritting his teeth, Duckmaw didn’t back down, even as the thin brown furs still attached to Bjorner’s leather overcoat brushed up against his jaw. His arm- the one facing you- twitched up and down as if he’d wanted to lift it, meaty fists clenching uproariously. “Don’t speak of her that way, you-! You-!”

Your even face did nothing to hide your apathy, even as your eyes stayed trained on them.

Their argument went beyond petty bonds and snippish words- it was, in truth, not their argument at all- more an argument of their house, monoliths of Vikings to which they were of little consequence. It was some tiff over land and the excuse was woodstock. The conflict had grown itself into a mighty feud. 

“Tis the hobby of fools, to spend all their time arguing about their mamies,” Tove said, her freed red hair still doing wonders to blend her in with the fires, some sticking to skin and face, red, pale and slick with sweat like fish’s skin.

You nearly rolled your eyes. As you did, you caught something from the corner of your eye.

“How’ve you lot been doing?” You heard, nearly lost under the crackling of fires and crumbling of houses, the sound of battle-cry off in the distance. He had a plaintive, respectable voice, still somehow smoothe even under the assault of smoke and ash, all male and deep. 

…Ah. Here came the cavalry with a bucket of his own.

You graced swept blonde hair with a nod, what should have been wheat made russet by soot and fire, bursting from the back of Arne’s head where the front was covered by a metal mask- a hazard, as it was, metal being prone to heat and melt under the vicious might of dragon fire. 

You suspected, in a few years, he might have one mighty burn scar running down the side of his face- if he made it out of the whole ordeal alive, as it was. 

His clothes were torn and he sported a bloody gash on one arm- he’d gotten caught up in some battle, then. He was the only one of them who’d already been accepted by the warriors as one of their own, who’d taken up a sword with quiet determination as the rest of them stayed managing buckets.

You occasionally joined him- you hadn’t received any fuss either, and yet… Well, the others needed managing… Watching, more than anything.

He nodded back at you as you levied up your bucket, grasping it by the bottom.

You huffed a breath of hair, blowing away a heavy tuft of soot as it threatened to hit you in the face, unusually large yet very thin, almost enough to be called a burnt wood scrap.

“-That’s what I thought,” Bjorner said maliciously, distantly- he’d jerked forward, and during the time you’d been distracted, Duckmaw, younger and more naive, had faltered. 

You stilled. It didn’t matter so much who was what in this minor, petty battle of wills. It wouldn’t change the outcome. 

It was only by an odd fluke of politics that you’d ended up here, a fisher’s girl from nowhere island, and so while not at all illicit in origin, you were no better than a bastard. 

Here, in this world of blood and fire there was no room for the girl in the woods. You knew that with a quiet, simmering surety, painfully aware of the small square booklet in your back pocket, padding against your thigh as you moved, fresh leather delicately held shut with a clasp, pressing deeply the dulling, colored faces of soft, pressed flowers. 

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

What about Kafka with a puppy like reader (like golden retriever type vibes)

Kafka with a golden retriever like reader

characters: Kafka x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: I have never written for Kafka *or* Honkai Star Rail before, so if I get some things wrong, then I’m sorry. There should be no spoilers here, but one or two minor ones might slip in by accident, so consider this a small warning.

Anyway, Kafka hot…

oh, and hope you enjoy!

Kafka

From all the Stellaron Hunters out there, you had to worry the least about being put on some sort of list. Afterall, when one was dealing with a group of criminals, the last description coming to anyone’s mind would be that of a human equivalent of a golden retriever. That being said, just because ordinary people wouldn’t connect you to your companions didn’t mean that nobody else would. Luckily for you and the others however, you were more than competent enough not to get caught while running errands every now and then.

Just as you handed the shopkeeper your money and were ready to leave, you felt a pair of eyes fixating on you, only for your eyes to glance over a guardsman glaring into your direction, the person next to him whispering something into his ear while doing his best to steal a glance at you from time to time. It seemed like your shopping trip would be coming to an end a little bit sooner than anticipated.

With one final goodbye to the person returning your change, you turned around and started walking away, your pace slowly picking up with every step, only to start sprinting the moment you heard the heavy footsteps of an armored guard just a few steps behind you, pushing your way through every shopkeeper in front of you. A part of you wanted to turn around and apologize for doing so, but seeing as you probably wouldn’t be shopping here again, you instead decided to simply shout your apologies without looking back.

As you finally reached the end of the dock, with nothing but endless nothingness greeting you when you looked over the edge, you turned around one last time before waving the guards goodbye and taking a step back, pressing the newly bought coat against your chest in fear you might accidentally let go of it, only to brace yourself for the inevitably hurtful impact of landing inside the shuttle… if there was one.

Just as your brain began considering that you may have done something that could only be described as not your brightest moment, the awaited impact occurred, and although significantly dampened by the mattress on which you landed, your back still hurt.

“Ever thought of what would happen if we weren’t here to catch you?”, Silverwolf's slightly annoyed voice rang out, the confirmation that you landed on the correct shuttle bringing a smile to your face before you quickly shook your head.

“Why should I? It’s not like such a thing would ever happen”, you answered before finally sitting up and quickly scanning the coat for any damages before proudly handing it to Kafka. “Here, I heard they were selling this here, so since we’re already here, I thought buying it for you might not be a bad idea.”

“Looks like the ad didn’t lie about it being high quality”, she said to herself while running her fingers across the fabric, putting it to the side before helping you up, a small smile making its way onto her lips. “Thanks, this spares me quite some time looking for someone willing to sell it to me. How about I give you a reward as thanks? Tell me what you want and you’ll get it”, she offered, only for you to quickly shake your head.

“You liking it is reward enough for me.” If rolling one’s eyes made a sound, Silverwolf alone would have been able to shatter glass, but when Kafka leaned in and gave you a kiss, the fellow Stellaron Hunter let out a disgruntled sigh.

“I’d love to watch you two continue with your cheesy couple stuff, but could you do it another time? Everyone on this giant ship wants us dead or at least in shackles”, she reminded you, causing Kafka to give her a halfhearted nod before putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Go and take some rest, you did enough today.” Just as the words left her mouth, you gave her an enthusiastic nod before walking off, the pain in your back completely overshadowed by your joy.

[twisted-writing]

Azul, Jade, Floyd x fem!reader

For Anonymous 

Who asked: Hi!!! Can you do headcanons for octavinelle reacting to their fem! s/o that they thought was a human orphan just appearing as an octopus mermaid to them and saying that she discovered that she was just half human, and the Ursula's granddaughter and accidentally poured a potion on herself that made her became a full mermaid, so now she is permanently an octopus. Please and thank you! (Bonus points if you add how azul will react to her acting clumsy and copying the movements of his tentacles because she has no idea how to move in this new form)

POV: First person 

Characters: Jade Leech, Floyd Leech, Azul Ashengrotto, Female!reader 

Pairing(s): Azul x fem!reader, Jade x fem!reader, Floyd x fem!reader (separate) 

Word Count: 820 

Azul: 

•When Azul had heard that you had an accident in Crewel’s class which was the result of an explosion, he was immediately worried for your wellbeing and safety. Many scenarios ran through his mind as he had made his way to the infirmary as soon as the news reached him.• 

•But this?• 

•Seeing a magical tank in the infirmary?• 

•And seeing the one who is in said tank is you? And not in the human body that he's so used to seeing but rather as an octopus, much like his own.• 

•Well it blew whatever scenario his mind had come up with out of the water.• 

•(Pun not intended 😆)• 

•Azul didn’t even realize that he had begun walking towards the tank, his footsteps echoing in the empty space until he was stopped in his tracks. Literally. Just a few more steps and he would’ve been able to reach you, but a magical barrier stopped him.• 

•Separating you from him.• 

•Azul didn’t like it all.• 

•If he couldn’t reach you, maybe his voice could.• 

•”Angelfish?”• 

•Hearing the familiar nickname that Azul had given you the moment you began dating as well as actually seeing him, put your worried, anxious mind at ease.•

•”Azul!”• 

•”Are you alright?”• 

•”I’m great! Moving with eight legs instead of two is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”• 

•”What exactly happened?”• 

•”Well…it all started in Crewel’s class…”• 

•And he listened to the entire thing, absorbing the fact that not only were you half human, but also the granddaughter of the great sea witch.• 

•”The tank and the magical barrier, did the headmaster set this up?”• 

•”Please.” You scoffed. “That cheapskate? No way. Professor Crewel, Trein, along with Sam set this up for me. I’m glad you’re here Azul. I didn’t want to go through this alone.”• 

•”You won’t.” He promised. “Not as long as I’m here.”• 

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

Floyd: 

•”Shrimpy! Hey! Wake up!”• 

•Floyd’s voice reached you from the barrier, rousing you from your sleep. Who knew sleeping in a tank could be so comfortable? It was the most peaceful rest you had ever gotten.• 

•”Floyd?” Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you made eye contact with your mer-eel boyfriend, he would have been closer to you, if not for the barrier in his way. “What time is it?”• 

•”Three a.m.”• 

•”Why are you in the infirmary at three in the morning?! Are you hurt?!”• 

•”Relax, shrimpy, I’d squeeze anyone before they could get a hit on me. As for why I’m here. I came to see you.”• 

•”Me?”• 

•”Yeah, I came to keep my shrimp company. It's so boring without you!”• 

•Floyd took all of this in stride. As if it was completely normal that his girlfriend was in fact directly related to the one of the great seven of Night Raven College, the one that his dorm was inspired by no less.• 

•That was Floyd for you.• 

Jade: 

•”How are you, my pearl?”• 

•”A little less bored now that you're Jade.”• 

•”Did you finish the books about the sea witch that I lent you?”• 

•”I did! They were such fascinating reads, thank you, Jade.”• 

•”Of course my pearl, I would do anything for you.”• 

•Jade was a calming presence and much like Floyd, he was taking this in stride and came to visit you as often as he could.• 

•You were grateful for him.• 

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

Bonus scene: 

“There you go, you're getting better and better at learning to move in this form.” Azul complimented you, Sam had been kind enough to expand the tank to not only give you more room, but also so Azul could be in it with you to show you how to move in this new form instead of telling you from outside of it. 

[sangwooooh]

Why won’t you speak?

“As I am standing over your dead, rotting body, I wonder: are you cold?”

Story: between Dick and Jason, Bruce adopts another hurt boy. M/n was around before Dick left, so he really considers him his older brother. When Jason comes around, M/n can’t help but feel jealous. After all, M/n is weak. He can’t be Robin.

Warnings and additional notes: M/n is using crutches to walk because of a car accident in which he took part at the age of twelve, the car accident that killed his parents. Bruce Wayne takes him under his wing, making sure he gets all the medical support he needs, making sure he is cared for. M/n is envious of Bruce’s soft spot for Jason. Major character death. Canon compliant… ? There are things added by me, of course.

—. —

The large doors of the library open with a burst of uncharacteristic storm.

“When has Batman died and put you in charge.” Jason’s shoes make an almost soundless approach in M/n’s direction.

M/n chuckles, “Oh my, aren’t you an opinionated little brat?”

Jason’s tongue clicks. No. He ain’t doing this shit. He takes a few more steps towards his tormentor.

“ I am Robin.” He points towards his chest. “Me. Not you, M/n. I should be in charge, not you.” He might not be in his suit, but he is Robin. And not even this bastard could take that away from him.

“Yeah, yeah. Listen here, you little asshole. You need to calm down. I don’t like you getting in my face. You annoy me. ” M/n rolls his eyes, and crosses his arms, leaning on the windowsill. The library is getting too crowded for the both of them. “Well, you don’t really have a choice. I’m older, more responsible. Don’t you have to listen to me or something?” Jason locks eyes with his fake brother, watching the words fall from his lips like boredom in the wind.

“You’re only two years older. Don’t act superior just because you’ve been here a little longer than me.” Jason wants to scoff, instead he draws back. Only to rethink his decision and bite. “Even so, I am Robin. And you’re just sickly prickly M/n. Nothing special there.”

There is a crack in M/n’s smile. Small, but noticeably there. Almost makes Jason regret it. Almost.

M/n scoffs, hiding the hurt, “You need to calm down, little asshole. It’s Alfred who holds the rule anyway. Don’t even know why you’d think it’d be useless, little me.” M/n tilts his head tauntingly, picking up his crutches and making his way out of the library. “Congratulations though. You’re pathetic.”

Jason rubs his eyes in exasperation. They will never get along. Never.

“Master M/n, is everything alright?” M/n tries to calm himself, almost bumping into Alfred. He feels like he’s gonna burst, but he can’t let the tears fall.

“Oh, Alfred… Sorry. I didn’t see you there.” M/n forces a smile. And he is sure it doesn’t fool Alfred. The elder man always knows.

“It’s quite alright, Master M/n. My question stands, however. Is everything alright?”

M/n averts his eyes, “Of course.” He stumbles a bit with his crutches as he tries to pass Alfred.

“You should try and get along with Master Jason. He is family. You two are family now, Master M/n.”

M/n doesn’t even feel like protesting. This Jason boy came after Dick left, almost as if their father was trying to replace his oldest son. And M/n can’t bear the thought of that. Of course he doesn’t like Jason. They’ll probably never get along.

“Alright then.” Alfred smiles and helps M/n down the stairs. “How about some tea?”

M/n relaxes slightly in the comfort of Alfred’s warm arms, “That sounds great, Alfred.”

Going down the stairs is becoming harder and harder for M/n. It’s like his legs are becoming lazier and lazier, which is normal considering the doctors already informed them about the changes waiting to happen. M/n doesn’t dwell on it most of the time. However, there are those moments of silence in which he can’t help but want to hit his head with something or accidentally drop one of those candles onto his own clothes. Jason had caught him in one of those moments in the library earlier. M/n gets nastier in terms of behavior around then, and truly he doesn’t have any interest in insulting Jason that much (just a little). The little prick just knows how to find his moments.

They get to the bottom of the stairs, but Alfred doesn’t let go. The man really knows everything.

When Bruce gets home, things haven't necessarily changed in any way. Alfred meets Bruce in the foyer, as it usually is when Bruce comes back from business. And then there is Jason who runs ahead of his brother and forcefully throws himself at Bruce with all his young years and fire thrumming in his veins, like he owns the world and Bruce, as well, with it. The man once young boy himself remembers owning the world once, it was not bare then. Behind, with struggle unfit for a child, M/n staggers forth with his ebony crutches. Jason does not let go of his hugs easily, in fact he holds on as if Bruce would disappear if he ever dared to let go earlier than he should. Thus, the man lets his son hug him tight. Moments later, Jason reluctantly lets go, making way for his older brother, who visibly stumbles on an uprise in the carpet.

M/n yelps as one crutch gets caught in the crimson material. He falls in front of everyone's eyes, but is caught by Alfred who is nearer to him. Bruce wants to reach out, he would've reached out. Yes. If, just so, he were closer to his son. Alas, distance is great in between them.

They head into the living room where Jason tells Bruce all about his exploits around the manor and how Bruce’s bedroom is actually haunted when he isn’t there. That gets a smile out of the man, rare as they are. His life has become increasingly livelier since Jason became part of the family. After all, the quiet of Dick’s departure was sadly difficult for one little M/n to fill, though the efforts were there. Bruce just… couldn’t make himself meet his son halfway.

After dinner Alfred corners him in the emptiness of Bruce’s study (not his, his father’s study). The older man wears that look on his face, the one he shows only to Bruce and especially when he ‘s done something bad, like stealing a cookie when he was younger, or choosing to dress up as a bat.

“You should talk to him more.” Alfred keeps his eyes on Bruce and the man once boy under that gaze doesn’t know if he should look away or try to dominate the stare down. It’s an automatic response, he reckons. It would never work on Alfred, either way.

“Jason is fine, he talks to me now.” That gets another smile out of Bruce. He fears these days he is getting stiffer, body hardening with the darkness and the years. Maybe he is actually growing softer?

“It’s not Jason I’m worried about, sir.” Alfred leans forward and places a tray with two cups and a teapot on it. It smells good, roses and camomile?

“M/n? Should I think there’s something wrong with him?” Bruce raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, sir. Should you not?” Alfred continues to look at him, almost as if his eyes harden. It’s hard to tell, even with the bat’s experience.

“Is something wrong with him?” Bruce takes a seat on his father’s old leather chair that was once black but now tints to brown. The chair sighs underneath him with tiredness becoming of age.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself, sir?”

Bruce would ask. He really would. He should… but it’s late. The boy probably sleeps already. “It’s late, Alfred. Some other time, perhaps?”

Alfred scrutinizes him, yet ends in a half concealed sigh. He wasn’t going to tell his Bruce, the stubborn and with years worth of guild child he so much wished fulfillment to about how his son still stands at the dinner table, ashamed to ask for help and beating himself down over how he would never be good enough to help his father the way his younger brother does. No, Alfred shall deal with that himself, as he always does. Foolish master Bruce. He ends with a, “You know best, sir.”

Bruce doesn’t know best. He’s never felt himself as holding the power of knowing whats and ifs and what ifs. The ‘what if’ of the situation, it always arises at the time when his weakness fills him with the dread of what has been. What if he’d said “let’s stay for another movie” the night his parents died. What if he’d spent more time trying to talk with Dick instead of arguing foolishly and towards nothing, like the boy wasn’t the son he so cared for, like he hadn’t been the only once. What if he’d listened to Alfred and talked with M/n more, mended the disruption between him and Jason. What if he’d protected Jason the way he should’ve protected him, the way his soul screamed to keep the boy safe because how can you let someone else suffer when it is you who should have been? It should never have been Jason. Not his Jason. Not his boy. Not his hope and his dreams and the one he holds as if he were holding his younger self. Not the Jason who laughed so hard whenever something remotely funny came to light. Not the Jason who ran to the door to welcome Bruce, jumping into his arms with all his young years and fire thrumming in his veins, like he owns the world and Bruce, as well, with it. ‘Welcome home, dad.’ Not… Not Jason. Not Jason, God, please, not him. Don’t let it be like this, Bruce’s soul screams as it trashes and shoves and splits, stabbing and scratching and killing to get out.

Jason Todd, beloved son and brother, full of fire and full of life

with all his young years and fire thrumming in his veins, like he owns the world and Bruce, as well, with it

The morning Bruce has to come home and let Alfred and M/n know that Jason won’t be home for dinner tonight or any other night, the sun shines on a clear sky. It smiles upon the Wayne lands, over the gardens and the pond. M/n is there with the flowers, reading a book. ‘The three musketeers’ the title reads. Does M/n enjoy reading? Maybe he does. Bruce isn’t around enough to figure out a pattern.

M/n’s eyes raise from the pages, smile a bright one, as the sun above them with a glint in his eyes and hair tussled with sleep and the ends of dreams.

Bruce must look all the wiser and the better and the all powerful because his son’s smile becomes smaller with what Bruce can only read as surprised… a little concern as well.

“Welcome back, dad.” The boy speaks, voice carried by the breeze and the petals of the flowers.

Bruce says nothing. He can’t bring himself to. Because how can you ever begin. How… How do you tell your son his brother has died before they even had the chance to make up after an argument? How do you let your son know, he will be in a quiet house yet again? How do you tell your son you’ve killed his brother?

M/n’s smile falters yet again. And he must sense something because he looks around. Behind Bruce, to the gate, to the flowers and to the door where no one but Alfred stands.

“Where is Jason?” His smile is gone by now, replaced by something akin to curiosity. “Did he get lost?” A small laugh bursts at that.

M/n locks eyes with Bruce again.

Bruce isn’t smiling. His lips haven’t even twitched. In fact, Bruce thinks he is getting worse by the second and it must be showing in some way because M/n forces himself to keep a smile on as he struggles to get up with the help of a crutch. He almost falls twice, but stands almost straight soon, book closed in hand, a finger inside to keep the page. The boy is pretty far into the book. Bruce doesn’t know if it’s the first, the second or the third volume.

“Dad… are you alright?” His son asks him with those alight eyes that speak the language of the sun and the moon. He looks around again, maybe he hopes to see the brother he so is annoyed by. There is no annoyance in his eyes. “Where is Jason, dad? I didn’t see him go inside.”

There’s a shake in Bruce’s eyes, a tremor of the lips. M/n pushes himself forward on the crutch. It gets stuck in the grass for a second, but it does not stop the son from approaching the bat with no suit, no protection.

A shove closer, half a stumble backwards.

“… dad?” Bruce lets his son see his head fall down, down, down, looking at the grass next to his shoes. Bruce thinks he shook his head somewhere in between the burn of the sun on his neck and the thud of ‘The three musketeers’ by Alexandre Dumas, fallen to the earth. For a moment, Bruce imagines the volume as his own head, rolling on the too green grass, blood dried and burned by the sun.

“M/n… Why do you hate me?”

“…”

“Have I… done something that wrong? I know I can be annoying and loud and sometimes want attention, but I don’t mean what I say to you. I never do, not the bad stuff at least.”

“I… I don’t hate you, Jason. How could I? You’re everything I wish I was.”

“Why?”

“Aha… I think I say all I say and blame you all the time because, not so deep down, I’m envious of you.”

“Envious? How could you possibly be envious of me? You’re older and you’re smart… and you don’t get into trouble with the teachers.”

“Ha, well, I suppose I’m envious because dad is close to you, the way he isn’t with me. And… and because you are with him the way I could never manage.”

“But… it’s really not that hard. Just talk to dad, I’m sure it’s gonna be alright.”

“Aren’t you wise.”

“Ha ha. I’m serious, M/n. If you want something, just do it.”

“See? That’s why I’m envious of you.”

… or maybe I admire you for it. Is what M/n imagines late at night, a conversation that could have been between Jason and him, especially close after the funeral, when Dick drinks in his room and their dad drinks in his study and Alfred cleans up the dinner none of them really taste any more, but only eat as unfeeling corpses coveted in a quiet house.

Part 2:

[hp-hcs]

1.3k words of the author bullying blaise zabini just for the plot (Chapter Three of The Doll) — slytherin boys x gn! ‘the boy’ (2016)! reader

Requests open

tws: dolls, obviously; reader referred to as ‘it’ (presumed inanimate); mentions of past child character death(s); mentions of a house fire—implied arson; violence; & murder

based entirely off of the 2016 film ‘the boy’. the painting? dear jesus fuck. that’s my trauma. watching that scene when i was like, thirteen.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Without further ado, Blaise snatches up the fucking doll, stomping upstairs with the doll carelessly dangling by one porcelain arm. Reaching Y/N’s bedroom (of course the freaky doll has its own bedroom, why wouldn’t it?), Blaise opens the door with much more force than necessary. He pauses in the doorway, taking in the room that the L/Ns had so carefully decorated—as if it were an actual child’s room—with brightly colored bedsheets, cartoon animals painted on the walls, and toys scattered everywhere.

He aggressively chucks the doll onto the rocking chair in the corner, (“The reading chair,” the L/Ns had cooed. “Y/N just loves when we read them bedtime stories”), and shuts the door as he leaves, digging through his pockets for the skeleton key the L/Ns had left the boys and locking the door with a resounding clack!

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, he tries to calm his racing heart. Drawing the key back out of the lock and tucking it away safely, he makes his way back downstairs on shaky legs.

He pointedly looks down at the floor as he passes the painting of the L/Ns.

Returning to the living room, his friends stare at him with wildly curious expressions.

“You okay, man?” Draco asks slowly, tilting his head.

“You guys aren’t getting popcorn tonight,” Blaise says with finality, his voice cracking on the last word. Blaise Zabini is not the kind of person to waver while speaking.

The boys don’t press the issue.

They instead scoot over, making room for him to join their blanket pile on the floor as they start the movie. Once he’s settled in, Blaise focuses on watching Cady Heron fumble her way through high school and tries to push the fuckery with the doll out of his mind.

~~~ Passing through the main narrow hallway, Blaise precariously carries a stack of antique books, liable to disintegrate at just the wrong glance. The rain is still going strong, a sudden clap of thunder causing the hallway’s oil lamps to splutter feebly. Cursing under his breath, Blaise sets the books on a decorative hall table and fumbles through his pockets for a lighter. Just in time, another crack of thunder seems to shake the whole house, the lamps giving off one last sad spark of light before giving up entirely.

His thumb slips against the flint wheel a few times before the lighter finally flickers, a flame catching on the wick. The tiny pinprick of light in the otherwise murky and oppressive hallway does nothing to light up Blaise’s surroundings. Moving the lighter around slowly, so as not to accidentally catch anything in the old house on fire, he slowly makes his way down the hall, immediately banging his hip on a console table.

Cursing again, Blaise swings the lighter around, looking for any more furniture boobytraps attempting to further maim him.

Then, a soft sound could be heard.

Blaise freezes, his breath catching in his throat.

It’s the unmistakable sound of a child crying.

Holding the lighter out in front of him like a weapon, Blaise takes a hesitant step down the hall towards the sound. The flame of his lighter then glints off of something hanging on the wall, a very large glossy wooden picture frame.

It’s the damn painting.

Frozen in place, Blaise can’t do anything but stare up at the imposing painting in terror. In the meager light, the L/Ns faces all look demonic and twisted.

The sobbing gets louder, closer.

He glances down the hall towards the sound, his heart pounding in his chest, before glancing back at the painting.

A hand shoots out from the canvas and seizes him around the throat, sharp nails digging into his flesh and squeezing squeezing squeezing-

~~~

Blaise wakes up in a cold sweat. Heart practically beating out of his chest, he breathes heavily, every one of his senses on overdrive, screaming at him to get out of there.

The clock on the TV stand glows a comforting green, whispering the time as an early five in the morning. The sun has only just begun to break over the horizon, gentle morning rays leaking through the decorative bits of stained glass at the top of each of the windows and casting warm shades of colors over the ceiling.

Mattheo lays stretched out next to him, dead asleep and hogging all of the blankets. Enzo and Draco fell asleep on each other, in a way that looks terribly uncomfortable. Theo is sprawled out across all of them, his head on Blaise’s knee and half of his body sandwiched between him and Mattheo. They must’ve fallen asleep before the movie ended, because the little DVD logo box slowly bounces across the screen, avoiding the corners like the plague.

Blaise scrubs his hands over his face, looking around the inviting and entirely non-threatening room. Really, the house is rather cute, in its own charming way. Like how a grandparent’s house is always tacky and poorly decorated, yet still perfect and homey nonetheless.

Knowing there was no way he’d be able to fall back asleep, Blaise carefully moves Theo’s head onto a blanket, sliding out of the group pile and standing up. His knees snap crackle and pop as he grunts to himself, shuffling to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

The kitchen is even cuter in the sunlight, with pale gingham curtains framing the window above the sink and cross-stitch frames dotting the walls. As he flicks the start lever on the coffee pot, he takes the opportunity to look around the room. Tacky linoleum floors? Check. Kitchen towels with embroidered kitschy sayings? Check. Live laugh and fucking love, everybody.

Blaise leans against the counter on his forearms, listening to the coffee pot hum. Taped onto one of the kitchen cabinets in front of him is a faded polaroid of a family in the outdoors, the woman and man grinning widely at the camera while the young child in the foreground appears to be mid-laugh, clinging to their father. The scrawled handwriting at the bottom describes the photo as ‘Y/N’s 9th birthday at the lake!’

Blaise’s eyebrows shoot up as he looks over the photo again. He hadn’t recognized them immediately, but sure enough, the woman and man in the photograph are the L/Ns. They look so much younger and happier in the polaroid, the weight of life having yet to set in.

Caught up in his thoughts, Blaise barely notices when the coffee pot dings to let him know that it’s done. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he pulls down a few mugs for him and the rest of the boys. He glances down curiously when the coffee pot continues to hum.

His brow furrows as he taps at the machine with a fingernail. The coffee maker splutters indignantly and beeps again, then goes silent.

But the hum continues.

Abandoning his quest for caffeine, he peeks out into the hall, wondering if one of his friends had woken up. He peers into the entrance of the living room from the kitchen doorway; he can see the still-bouncing logo on the otherwise mute TV, and his four friends still sprawled out on top of all of the blankets.

But the hum continues.

He steps a little further out into the hall. He can now hear distinctly that the sound is coming from upstairs. Looking back at his abandoned mug on the counter forlornly—and mentally cursing himself for being insatiable in his curiosity—Blaise slowly starts up the stairs.

Once he reaches the top floor, the sound grows louder. It’s clearer now too. Blaise can tell that it’s not a hum.

It’s a child’s sobs.

Eyes widening, his gaze immediately latches onto the door of Y/N’s bedroom.

Surely not.

Holding the skeleton key retrieved from his pocket between shaking fingers, he slides it into the lock and twists, the door slowly creaking open.

The doll is still sitting in the chair, exactly as he left it.

He sighs in relief.

It’s a doll, dumbass. You’re just being paranoid. The war just left you on edge, that’s all.

He turns to leave, to go back downstairs and enjoy his coffee, when something catches his eye.

The doll is crying.

A single tear tracks down its face, hanging still for a moment before dripping off of its porcelain chin.

Blaise stumbles backwards, dropping the key with a clatter. He tugs the neckline of his shirt down frantically, feeling the phantom hand from his dream wrapping around his throat once more. He could swear he feels those damn nails again, slicing into his skin.

Watching the doll with bated breath and terror-stricken eyes, Blaise waits a long moment before another tear runs down its face, running down the bridge of its nose from its forehead.

Wait.

Forehead?

Blaise slowly looks up at the ceiling, a bit convinced that if he looks away from the doll for too long, it’ll lunge. He releases the breath he’s holding when he sees that the ceiling has a leak, rainwater from last night’s storm dripping down. Down from the seam of where the shut tight pull-down ladder to what must be the attic—or some kind of storage space—meets the rest of the ceiling.

It’s just an old house. There’s no crying dolls, no monstrous paintings. Just a wacky old house with wacky old owners.

Yep. That’s all.

~~~

Chapter Four <3

[crocheting-cupio]

"Do I Have A Crush?" Quizzes as an Aromantic

In a previous post I had mentioned that I love taking "do I have a crush?" quizzes as an Aromantic. What I didn't share in that post was all of my findings from taking basically every quiz on that topic I could find. This is gonna be a bit of a long one, but I hope it will be an enlightening one!

Being an aro and taking these quizzes is pretty interesting. Because I do get plushes, which for me share some qualities with crushes, but are a completely different experience as a whole. For lack of a better equivalent, I have used my plushes while taking these quizzes. This will become relevant later on.

Anyway, here are my findings:

1. The target demographic for these quizzes is teenage girls. Well, the majority of online quizzes are intended for teenage girls. But these ones are especially designed for teenage girls. It's often painfully obvious by the way they are written, the answers available, and the scenarios provided. About crushes specifically though, this makes sense. Most people have their first crush during their teenage years. So the next logical step is to be curious about these new feelings and take an online quiz to figure out what's going on. Why only girls, though? Hard to say. It could be because they assume boys generally feel more confident in their romantic interest and thus would have no need for such a thing. Worth noting it was very hard to find a TRULY gender inclusive quiz. There's tons of wlm and wlw, but almost nothing for mlw or mlm. And if you're nonbinary or your crush is nonbinary, good fucking luck. The vast majority of them rely on some sort of gender stereotype. So many of these are clearly written from the perspective that you are a cishet woman interested in a cishet man. In multiple quizzes I have actually found typos where instead of using they/them, they accidentally use he/him in one question, almost like it had been up for a few years, then someone edited it later and missed one. A freudian slip if I ever saw one.

2. Practically all of them assume you are currently attending high school I understand that this is the time when most people get their first crush... but there are people who only crush on celebrities and fictional characters until they are an adult. This is not an extremely uncommon occurrence. So as you can imagine, there are a lot of questions that ask about how you interact with this person at school. Usually the addition of "or at work" feels like an afterthought. Some quizzes I've come across don't even consider that an adult might be taking the quiz. Like the question just openly states that you are at school.

3. They frequently assume that your crush is NOT someone in your friend group. This is probably the most interesting one to me personally. Because I myself cannot get a plush on someone until I've known them as a friend for at least three months. And I know plenty of non-aro people that need to get to know someone as a friend before developing romantic feelings. It's just... such an oddly specific assumption, y'know? They don't even consider that maybe this person is already in your friend group (unless you are talking specifically "do I have a crush on my best friend" quizzes). They just doesn't consider that the way you feel about someone can change over time. It's love at first sight or you will never feel that way about that person, I guess. (I think this is more teenager shenanigans. Because "am I about to enter a relationship with an abusive guy" doesn't appear to be the concern. Just that both or either friend group might not approve...?)

4. They generally assume your crush is a stranger or someone you do not know very well. Related to the previous one, this one is kind of weird to me. I understand the concept of love at first sight, but these are "do I have a crush" quizzes, not "is this love at first sight" quizzes. Almost every quiz I took had a least one question that assumed you had fallen in love with someone you have never spoken to. And often for answers on other questions instead of including an "I'm on the fence for how I feel about this person" option in the answers, which would be pretty logical to include, they have an option that says "N/A because I don't actually know them." However, the "do I have a crush on my best friend" quizzes are an exception to this. Instead they often assume you are spending every single free moment of time you have with this person.

5. If you have a crush on your best friend, you have either terribly misinterpreted you feelings and theirs, or they will never feel the same way about you. Um, yeah... I guess some people just can't tell the difference between romantic attraction and just being really good friends. But an important note: I think in some cases there's definitely outside pressure saying that two people "should" be in a romantic relationship simply because they are close platonically. Making those people question how they feel. Hence the existence of these quizzes. I can definitely feel that pressure while taking them.

6. They assume that your friends are all a certain type of person and your relationship with them is very specific. So here's the common assumptions I found across most quizzes:

Your friends are the type of people that are very invested in the love lives of everyone in that friend group. (And also outside of your friend group...)

Your friends are the type of people that will tease you about your romantic interests instead of being supportive.

You talk frequently about your love interests, love life, or lack there of with your friends. (Before you say "What? Everyone does that!" Not everyone does that.)

You are the only person questioning your feelings, everyone else is certain you have a crush.

Thankfully a teenage friend has informed me that this is 100% a teenager behaviour that happens all the time. Although I have seen cases where women under the age of 25 can also do this. I would go into detail about each of those but I think how these are not good assumptions to make is pretty self explanatory. You don't know me, you don't know what my friends are like, stop saying your experiences are universal. I will say blindly trusting the quiz taker's friends is not as reliable of a choice as it sounds. Sometimes people will just call any fond feelings for someone, platonic or not, a crush. And they sometimes will insist that person has a crush even if they say that they do not have a crush and simply want to be friends. And after awhile it can get to your head and feel like the only opinion that matters.

7. They assume this person is someone who you know/you regularly see in real life. In every quiz I took they asked at least one question that I could not answer because the plush I was using for all of these is someone I only know online. Specifically, it was some variant of "how often do you stare at them?" I understand this is a defining part of having a crush for most people, but I was rarely even given the option to say that this person and I are not regularly in the same room. Okay, let's say a teen girl gets a crush on a boy on from another school during like a sports game. She cannot answer this particular question truthfully either because imagining how often you'd stare at someone you met once if you were regularly in the same room with accuracy is not easy.

8. They assume you have the biggest crush, as anything less could lead to negative results from the quiz. Because I do not experience the same feelings, sometimes answering these questions truthfully is very difficult because my options are usually like this:

Q. If your crush asked you to hang out, how would you react?

OMG YES YES YES!!!

Well, we hang out all the time (as friends) so this is just a normal Tuesday for us.

I haven't even introduced myself to this person so they literally cannot ask me to hang out.

I'd make an excuse to not go.

And none of this is even close to how I feel about my plush. Or even about my friends. I cannot answer this question with 100% honesty. Legitimately, I've felt like I've gotten "you don't have a crush" results for the simple reason that I am not head over heals for my plush. Often it was either "every thought in my mind is of them" or "they're alright, I guess." But you can see how only the first option, with the most intense feelings, suggests that you have a crush. The other three options are either completely neutral feelings or suggest dislike. And since that's what people are taking this quiz to figure out, almost everyone is going to pick the first option. It might as well be just "would you hang out with your crush if they asked you, yes or no?"

So these quizzes are built on the assumption that you do, in fact, have a crush. You just want those feelings validated.

"Okay that's great Snowy, but what results did you get from these quizzes as an aromantic?"

Well, I didn't write down exact numbers since there were so many quizzes I took over about an eight month period. Some of them I took multiple times months apart and got different results. But I'd say about 60% said I had a crush, or was likely to have a crush. And 40% said I did not, or it wasn't likely to be a crush.

The funny part?

When I took some of those I didn't have a plush on anyone at the time. I was just using how I felt platonically about a close friend as the "crush." And while this did sway the results, it was not by much. Turning it more into a 50/50 chance.

No plush, no sexual attraction, they are JUST my friend. And yet, the results screen tells me I am deeply in love with them about half of the time.

When I said they assume you do have a crush, I really meant it.

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

Finally, I have actually made my own "do I have a crush" quiz that hopefully avoids doing everything I just talked about. No assumptions about the person you may have feelings for, no assumptions about your friends, no assumptions about you, who you are, or why you are taking it in the first place.

It's password locked since I'd like to get results strictly from people who find this post on Tumblr (for now). So type in this word when prompted:

conformity

Thank you for reading all the way to the end. I spent a long time with all the research and writing so it means a lot to me. 💖