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wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 3 years

Note

I’m new and if this is the right place can you do vinca comforting mc through a mental breakdown after things mc mom had said to her? If it’s too much then just ignore👍🏽

Written by: @evoedbd

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“Alright, this is fucking unco, Rae.” Vinca’s voice was sharp; sharper than the little throwing blades adorning her striking red jumpsuit. In the peak of the Vegas sun, Vinca was a gleaming star; a blaze of fury and snark. The cut of her shirt revealed glistening alabaster skin; the finest marble shined by the finest scented oils. From sharp collarbones worthy of a renascence sculpture, down the valley between breasts full enough to make angel’s sob with envy. Then the smooth expanse of her belly, a surface which occasionally seemed to bubble with hidden muscle. The heaving expanse of her ribcage, lines which appeared between exhales.

“Sit down. Drink this.” Each command was almost barked. Harsh and short. Delivered from the international supermodel Vinca Wren. Rae didn’t know whether it was the heat, her own loneliness or her hysteria that brought such a vision to her, nor if Vinca herself recognised the irony of addressing thirst when she was the cause of it across the world. All she knew with terrifying clarity was that she had obeyed, accepting the iced water bottle and dropping to her haunches like an ever-faithful hound.

“Wha-”

“Ah, ah, ah. No questions.” Vinca cut her off, reaching out to press the pad of her finger to Rae’s lips. The bike Mechanic fell obediently silent, fighting the urge to rub her lips together at the irritating grain of sand that rubbed across them. When had Vinca put her hands anywhere near dirt? Wait… she’d said no questions. Why was Rae asking questions? Before she could freefall into her doubts, Vinca seemed to read it. The model withdrew her decorated finger with a softened expression.

“Drink. Then, spill.” She urged. Despite the strength of her tone, the power of her posture and … personality… Vinca’s words rung like a plea in Rae’s ears. The mechanic paused, taking another moment to inspect Vinca. There she was, on her knees in the sand of the Canyon, having chased Rae out onto the bike trails. Vinca was all high heels, platform shoes, clothes worth more than Rae’s monthly paycheck, sullied by sand. And concern. Vinca embodied concern. The aloof tilt of her mouth wasn’t true; delicious-looking, candy-pink lips falling a bit too far into a frown. The darkness of her eyeliner couldn’t hide the shadows in hypnotic blue eyes. This Vinca was not somebody Rae had ever seen before, at least, not directed at her.

The mechanic realised what a mess she must be. Her tie-dyed hoodie flapping around her elbows, cheap t-shirt hanging off of one sunburnt shoulder. Her face had to be a mess, after all her sobbing. She could feel the itchiness across her eyes, the dried caking of tears and snot down her cheeks, all the way to the point of her chin. Despite this, Vinca Wren had chased her. HER. Rae Lang. A dropout, bike instructor and mechanic living in a cheap apartment above her workplace with her single mother. That gave her the courage to try and smile, to dare utter a deflecting line.

“The drink?”

Vinca literally growled in frustration. Her hands came up to her pixie cut, sweeping the longer, dyed bangs out of her eyes. Nails dug into her scalp as if she could wrench her own thoughts out of her mind through the roots of her platinum hair.

“You are the most dense, stubborn woman I have ever met. You didn’t even cry when demons attacked you. We can’t have your eyes all swollen, that’s just a travesty. Whoever or whatever has made you this upset needs to be dealt with.” What started out frustration quickly melted back into concern. Hesitantly, as if she might break Rae, Vinca reached out. She ran her own fingers through Rae’s hair, across her temples, sweeping the chaotic locks away from the Asian’s face. Whatever Vinca saw there must have hurt her, given the subtle hitch in her breath before she slinked closer. How a near six-foot woman could slink on her knees was damn confusing, but Vinca Wren perfected the art. The movements. The attitude. The aura. Catwoman eat her heart out. It was almost feline how Vinca drew close, enough that she sat hip to hip with Rae.

“It’s my mom. We got into an argument, and things got spicy.” Rae confessed, letting herself melt into Vinca’s side. Any weariness vanished the moment Vinca’s arm wrapped around Rae’s shoulders, guiding her into a comforting closeness. Vinca’s nails found their way into Rae’s hair, delicately scratching across her scalp. This time, the motion was intentional, a gentle caress that drew the wounded sound from Rae’s throat, the weight off her chest.

“She said she was disappointed with me for dropping out of med school.”

That earned a derisive snort.

“Right. Because a doctor is SO much more useful than saving the world from Demons.” Vinca was unapologetically snarky. That earned a soft snort from Rae, a wet and wounded sound of amusement. So many people may have been touchy about such things, would have offered apologies and comforts. Vinca didn’t do that. She struck back, bigger and harder than ever, using the truth like a sledgehammer from a rival act.

“She thinks I’m being reckless with the act. That I’m trying to hurt myself like some…” Rae grasped for the words, unable to find what she was looking for. She looked imploringly to Vinca, pleading with the younger woman to rip the truth from her too. To drag every dark thought into the light, just as she did upon the stage. Just as she did in every brutal fight. There were so many shadows, so much confusion, yet Vinca usually brought clarity. Why wasn’t she being clarity now?

“I can read minds, you know. I’d know if you were being stupid or planning on kicking it on stage.”

“I don’t get it. She loves Yvette and Lazarus.”

“Everybody does.” Vinca agreed. It was true. Yvette was so painfully charming, despite her aloofness. She captivated without a single touch. She burned; azure fire held back by the weight of humanity. And Lazarus had somehow swept Rae’s mother off her feet with his gentle words and polite mannerisms. It didn’t hurt that his abs could be mistaken for a cheese grater and that he never wore a closed shirt… ok, so her mother was a cougar. Rae couldn’t exactly blame her. But she could disagree on one thing.

“But she thinks you’re dangerous.”

“I can’t argue with that. My fashion is pretty sharp.” Vinca delivered the line flawlessly, only a twitch at the corner of her mouth, showing any amusement. Rae could only shake her head in disbelief at Vinca’s jest. She didn’t get it. Didn’t take it seriously. And why should she? Vinca Wren was a worldly marvel, an international superstar. While Rae showed overweight tourists the easiest bike trails, Vinca Wren was in London. While Rae had to deal with overly entitled customers, Vinca Wren was sitting beside leopards in the finest lingerie or setting the trend for summer bathing suits surrounded by lions. Whilst Rae had a cougar for a mother, Vinca Wren sat amongst actual, literal cougars in suits that could make grown men sweat or gowns which would make grown women sob with envy. Vinca Wren was Pride. The big bad sin. The mind-reading, knife-wielding, drop-dead gorgeous extraordinaire. Why would she care what a bike shop owner thought?

“She thinks you’re just using me, that I’ve been swept up in the glamour, and I might get hurt when you g-get bored. That when you’re all done with the bike tricks, you won’t really care for me.” And there it was. The truth, laid out for Vinca to weaponize. To wield. All Rae’s unspoken fears laid bare. To rip the world apart with at a whim, all with her devastating smirk.

“Bullsh-” Vinca cut her answering growl off, clamping her jaw shut. A breath, composure reclaimed, emotion hidden behind a professional mask.

“… I mean, what do you think?” A submission. That made Rae blink. Vinca Wren had just shut down her own opinion to give Rae the floor.

“Can’t you read my mind?” Rae demanded on instinct, earning another derisive snort and a blasé flick of Vinca’s wrist.

“Duh! But like, invasion of privacy much?”

There was something about the way Vinca said it that didn’t sit right with Rae. A waver in her usually impeccably aloof act. Her sharp features were just that little too youthful. Her lips didn’t quite reach the notes of indifference, nor did her nose point quite as high in the air. Then, her eyes… wider. So impossibly bright blue, like a summer sky. So devastatingly vulnerable for a blink, before they narrowed slightly, adding to an angular appearance.

“Are you scared what you’ll find?” Rae couldn’t help but fire back, drawn into the banter. It felt dangerous, like throwing herself into a pit of knives and daring them to cut her, but the reward was worthwhile. The briefest flash of surprise in Vinca’s eyes, a tinge of colour to her cheeks, and that dangerous, not quite a pout, not quite a frown; an expression which promised pain and horror upon those who had incurred her wrath. The little crease in her brow, the way her eyes hardened and narrowed, honed to a razor's edge. Somehow, knowing Vinca, that expression was just downright adorable… like a kitten threatening a toy mouse.

“I’m not scared!” Vinca declared just a touch too vehemently to be truthful. There it was. Pride. The sin Vinca had taken on, in a way she still hadn’t disclosed. Not fully. She had killed someone, that much Rae knew. Someone evil. Someone who had the world fooled and was using his power to hurt everyone Vinca loved. But Rae knew there was more. There had to be. It was too raw a wound to be a completed chapter.

“Vinca Wren. I know when you’re lying by now.” Rae commented, refusing to let the moment she saw go. Rae had seen the photoshoots, the advertisements, the endless endorsements of this larger than life woman. Vinca Wren was sold as sex and danger; a mystery. A real-life Selena Kyle. A sin above humanity. How many people got to catch a glimpse of the woman beneath? The young, loyal woman who would give everything to protect what she loved? How many people ever got to see Vinca crack? Even Yvette seemed to look to Vinca as a rock, mindless to the fact life was like water. Mindless to how water eroded Vinca, until only sex and danger remained. What she had to be. What everybody saw. Just how did the world see Vinca? How easily did they forget how she hurt?

“Fine, whatever!” Vinca’s confession was a deflection, delivered with another attempt at indifferent even in an explosion of irritation.

“So I’m anxious about what I’ll see. Happy now, you little sadist?” There was no heat to her words. The beginnings of a fond smile tugged at her lips, even as she straightened enough to loom over Rae, chin held high in a haughty fashion. Despite her appearance of looking down, Vinca’s eyes glistened with scarcely restrained amusement. Something rarer than diamonds. Sapphires amidst the clay and sands.

“Vinca.” If one name could be a loaded sentence, it was the way Rae whispered that name. A prayer. Imploring a goddess to pay heed to an ant. And heed the goddess paid. For one bright, blistering moment of crystal clarity, Vinca’s world was only Rae. Vinca gave her all to the mechanic, hanging on the unspoken words, searching and fearing simultaneously. Rae swallowed. What could she even say? What words did she have that could sum up the complication, which was Vinca Wren? How could she show the duality of intents, the clash of meaning to every word that could ever describe her? Snarky meant wonderful, and bitchy meant saintly, selfless. Vinca redefined every insult one might spit; turned the world on its head, twisted it upon its axis. She was the brightest darkness. The darkest star. She was the shadow of the sun because she shone too intensely to be anything so simple as sunshine.

“Whenever you’re ready, look at what I think of you. Until then, I’ll try to find the right words.” Rae wanted to cuss herself out even as she spoke sweetly, invited Vinca inside yet again. Stupid. How was she so stupid? She’d had Vinca’s attention, had the chance to try to fix everything Vinca hated about herself. Had the chance to begin to untangle her own jumbled concepts of the woman. And what had she done? Chickened out. Left Vinca without answers and pressured her into something she clearly wasn’t comfortable with.

She was shocked to hear an amused huff, as if Vinca was attempting not to laugh. There was an easiness to her presence, a tenderness even in the way she sidled closer, using her own body as a pillar for Rae to lean on. For once, Vinca’s snark was delivered lightly, lips pulled into something resembling an unpractised smile as she delivered a deadpan line.

“I’ll buy you a dictionary.”

“Make sure it has snarky in it.” Rae needled lightly, giving Vinca a poke in her exposed ribs. The Pride assassin was warm, roasting even, yet so soft and smooth beneath even that poke. Once more, Rae was struck by how unusual their blossoming friendship was, how far apart their worlds truly were. Cultures, countries, paychecks. Everything considered to make the world turn. They were so very vastly different, yet here they were. Sitting in the sand. Sweaty and snotty. Making bad jokes and bridging their different upbringings one awkward syllable at a time.

“It’s a dictionary. That word be ancient. If it isn’t in there, I demand a refund.” Vinca pulled what might be dubbed a Karen face, complete with severe frown and haughtily raised brow. For one. Two. Three seconds, there was silence. Then, cracks. Vinca’s lips twitched, Rae’s breath caught in her nose. Then laughter. Rae laughed, freely and openly, right alongside Vinca. The Pride assassin’s laugh, a genuine laugh, was a far cry from delicate. It was the soft chortle of a lioness. A sound which was soft yet never let anybody forget the dangers of the being. Rae didn’t care. She continued to giggle and snort long after Vinca stopped, almost oblivious to the tender, thoughtful expression etched across Vinca’s face. Almost. Rae caught it, like a glimpse of a falling star, and wished upon it. Wished to understand it. For once, for clarity to be cast upon itself.

“… Look…” Vinca broached, voice unusually hesitant. Thoughtful and soft. So very quiet, yet so unmistakably her.

“Your mom cares about you. She’s worried. I get that. I’m not the type of person you want around for my sparkling personality. But you also have to make your own choices and mistakes. That's part of growing up. And if you tell anybody about this, I will stab you, but you’re pretty ok. You haven’t fucked up that badly… yet.”

She had to add the yet. She couldn’t be soft, not if she wanted everybody safe. Soft wasn’t safe for anybody… yet. That didn’t mean she didn’t relish how close she had gotten, how close she could come. Enough to taste the humanity. Enough to break her heart once more.

“Vinca…” Rae began, unable to find any other word, any other sound even to begin her sentence. Summoned, Vinca’s gaze turned back to the mechanic, meeting her eyes in a silent question. A silent dare. Under the weight of such a gaze, Rae cracked. The corners of her mouth pulled towards her ears, curling into a wicked little grin that sent Vinca into high alert. She tensed, calculating. Instead, she found herself flabbergasted by a rather playful observation.

“You’re really terrible at this comforting thing.”

“No shit. What do you want from me? Professional advice?” She demanded sharply, brows arched dangerously. Her lips peeled away from her teeth ever so subtly, an instinctual warning. Just like a timid hound trying to prove it was tough, Rae realised. Vinca’s knee jerk reaction was fear. Denial. Aimed at something behind the words.

“Maybe just a hug?” Rae’s request was simple enough, though it still threw Vinca for a loop.

“Seriously? What are you, twelve?” She barked; her laughter far less joyous. What she didn’t expect was the wounded expression across Rae’s face… no. That was a lie. She had expected the sad tilt to the Asian’s fine lips, along with the foggy glistening across suddenly unfocused eyes. What Vinca hadn’t expected was the way it would hurt. She flinched, unable to stop her body from reacting despite all her training. Only one person ever asked for hugs from her. One glistening, gorgeous person who Vinca herself kept tearing down. One person, she’d given everything for, including their relationship. One bright, stubborn little girl who… who reminded her entirely too much of Rae.

“… Fine.” She relented, twisting until she could gather the small woman to her chest. It was overwhelming in the best and worst of ways. Finally, after so long, she had someone she could care for. Even if that only lasted a moment, she had the comfort of contact. Of someone wanting innocent contact with her. She wasn’t reading lewd thoughts and desires, nor having to be on guard in case skin touched her. She could just… be. Exist in a moment. That was enough for Vinca to squeeze tighter, to burrow her nose into the crown of Rae’s head with an entirely too soft sigh of her own. Then, she bristled.

“For someone so sharp, you’re really a big softy.” Rae sighed, voice a million miles away. Lost in a moment, Vinca could never fully surrender to. It was too soft. Too dangerous. Too tempting. She wanted to withdraw, like a tiger with its paw snared in a trap, Vinca wanted to flee… but she couldn’t. Rae’s arms were wrapped around her, squeezing like a boa constrictor. Hands, gentler than the finest Masseuse, were like the teeth of a trap digging into her flesh. There she was, a soul sold to hell, stuck in the embrace of someone angelic. Damned if she did, damned if she didn’t.

“If you tell anyone…” she began, hissing the words into the baby hairs behind Rae’s ear. She shuddered, unable to conceal a reaction at the heated breath, the closeness… the sickly promise in Vinca’s empty threat.

“I know, you’ll stab me.” Rae chuckled, simply squeezing a little tighter, nuzzling that little bit closer. Vinca relented further, sighing, slouching into the contact.

“Seriously though…” Rae began, withdrawing enough to see the startled expression upon Vinca’s face as she muttered the next word.

It wasn’t perfect. Wasn’t the opening Rae had hoped for, nor the closure Vinca may have sought. Yet, there was a door opened. A tender olive branch extended; a sprig, too defiant to die in the blazing heat. That little spark, that unspoken potential drew a matching smile to Rae’s lips, gave her the courage to accept the comfort Vinca offered, even knowing that she risked being cut. Perhaps bleeding would be worth it to have a friend as loyal as Pride… no, as loyal as Vinca Wren.

“Thanks.”

#Anonymous #lovestruck #lovestruck fanfiction #lovestruck sin with me #sin with me #sin with me pride #sin with me vinca #swm vinca #vinca wren #vinca x mc #fluffy angst #comfort #lil bit of angst #fluff #sfw #scatterday

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kyloren · 6 years

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Mileven post-S2 fanfiction recommendation list: PART V

For past rec lists please see instalments I, II, III, and IV. If your fanfic isn’t featured, apologies. Message me and we’ll amend that grievance in the next rec list instalment.

* marks the ongoing stories.

canon:

for laughs, for luck, for the unknown by ArtemisRae: “Mike goes away to college. El goes with him. Within a year she gains a new set of grandparents, a pet, a job, and enforces party rules.”

+ its sequel the monkey in the wrench by ArtemisRae: “Mike ends up in the hospital, El has to face her insecurities, and they turn the corner with Mike’s parents.” [ArtemisRae’s works are so beautiful, I can’t breathe.]

a wonderful awful idea by ArtemisRae: “Mike wants to recapture the Christmas magic of his childhood, but mostly he accidentally makes his girlfriend cry.”

the last picture show by ArtemisRae: “Hopper catches Mike and El at the local drive in after being led to think that they were at the Hawk with their friends.”

six weeks* by bananannabeth: “There are six weeks between the night El comes home and the night of the Snow Ball, which leaves not a lot of time to deal with a whole lot of shit. Somehow, she and Mike ride it out.”

can’t argue with that by bananannabeth: “Karen is well aware of how stubborn her only son can be, but as much as he tries to pretend he has to do everything on his own, Mike isn’t alone anymore. So if he’s insisting on running to El’s rescue at the cabin in the middle of the woods at two in the morning, you can bet his mom is not letting him go alone.”

+ its prequel with background Mileven: alone by bananannabeth: “Karen left Joyce alone when she so obviously needed support, and now she’s trying to make amends. Casserole and coffee seems as good a place as any to start.” God, I love bananannabeth’s You Can Talk To Me (aka. Karen Wheeler is a Good Mom™) series so, so much.

just another sleepy sunday by suchastart: “Game night, a few years into the future.”

promises by blacktreeswhitesky: “For Jane Ives, it’s always been like this. She was always searching for something, for someone.” [I’M NOT CRYING. YOU ARE CRYING.]

how we sleep by zombiecupcake: “The gate is closed, and the gang finds themselves getting the much deserved rest they all needed.”

love you like that* by ohanae: “Snippets out of Mike and El’s life after she closed the gate to the Upside Down. They learn things together, go to school together, grow up together.”

operation christmas for el* by Booklover1217: “When the party discovers that El has never experienced a Christmas before they are horrified. That is until Mike comes up with the plan to give El the most amazing first Christmas imaginable and so Operation Christmas for El is born. The next days that follow are filled with gingerbread, mistletoe, snow, and the magic of Christmas which just may change El’s life forever.”

home by lesbeatlesbunch: “Mike gets his license.”

pretty by hma1313: “Sometimes he thinks he sees her standing at the end of the street in that ratty dress of his sister’s, the fabric torn and stained, but he’ll blink and then she’s gone and he’s half convinced he imagined it all.”

scrap my knees, whatever; i’m gonna let them bleed by ceruleanstorm: “How many compliments can Mike and El yell at each other over a card game?”

close the door by g00denough: “Because we are just waiting for when someone walks in on El and Mike kissing.”

things you said* by Brown Eyes Parker: “a collection of one-shots revolving around Mike & Eleven and things they say to each other.”

+ its sort of sequel, sort of outtakes things you said, alternate stories* by Brown Eyes Parker: “Original and alternate or continuations of stories in my “things you said” series.”

heartbeats in the quiet by screamingintosilence: “It was usually just a cold, but this felt like the flu.”

perfect summer day by AR357: “It was a sunny summer day in 1984. Mike had been looking forward to this day for a while. With each breath of crisp summer air, he felt more and more invigorated. With each hill he crested, he felt his heart thumping away. But then again, maybe he was just thinking about what the day’s events would hold.”

flutterby, butterfly* by foreverinthe_eighties: “What would happen if, years after the events that took place in 1984, Kali seeks Eleven out herself. And gives her the opportunity to change her mind.”

the name game by Strange_Archivist: “El and Mike have their first real fight, and it’s a doozy.”

eleven things* by Socalledfriend: “Eleven returns, but things don’t just go back to the way they were. It’s not clear how she managed to get home, and meanwhile Will’s sickness is only getting worse. Some things never change though, and while she’s back, Mike manages to teach her at least eleven things about the outside world.”

raspberry breeze by urdearestmom: “Sometimes she stays up with him, and she calls him ridiculous. How don't you fall over when you get up in the morning? She asks. Pfft, I don’t need sleep! Who do you think I am? He says, but then he smiles and her heart melts, she's never been able to be angry at this boy for more than a few minutes.”

promises* by Vontar: “Sometimes, it’s the little things in life that matter. Scenes of life from Eleven and Mike, as they face the future together.”

stranger things holiday extravaganza* by Commernator: “Mike, Hopper, and the rest of the party help Eleven experience holidays for the first time.”

alternative universe:

the boy with freckles like constellations in the night sky* by got credits (Poly_Grumps): “It had been a quiet night in the town of Hawkins Indiana when Will Byers disappeared seemingly out of thin air. Jane Ellie Ives could still recall her last moments with him, the last words she had spoken with him before she watched him bike off into the night. It had started like any other day in fact, with the curly-haired girl and her gang of friends all sitting around in her basement gathered around a rather intense game of dungeons and dragons!” Reverse AU. [guys, guys, guys. I’m screaming. It’s so good.]

(all i wanna be is) somebody to you* by sinclairsmax: “Elle Hopper never thought that she’d win American Idol. Then again, she also never thought Mike Wheeler would fall in love with her. Behind the cameras, everything is turned upside down.” YouTube AU. [this is everything I didn’t know I wanted.]

we could be heroes* by ValBirch: “A series of connected vignettes about our favourite characters—but with superpowers.” Superhuman AU. I repeat, SUPERHUMAN AU. [Plus, the author has a whole set of moodboards/aesthetics for characters and I’m dying.]

the artist & the dancer* by JavaCat26: “Her warm honey-brown eyes were fixated on him. Emotion washed over him like warm bath water. He wouldn’t let her down. Ever. He took a deep breath, steadied his hand, and pressed his pencil to the canvas. “I can do this…”” College AU.

upside down and back again* by Crataeis: “When a new threat begins to emerge from the ashes of the Upside Down, an unlikely group of four of our six main protagonists band together to try and stop it.” Alternative Reality? Time Travel AU? I can’t quite tell, but although this fic is in its early stages, it’s really good and worth a look.

a rose by any other name by serendipitous_rambles: “The Montague and Capulet high schools never got along. There was bitter rivalry between the two schools, nothing good could come from associating with each other. But what happens when two fall in love?” Romeo & Juliet-style High-School AU.

+ bonus: wherein The Party is featured prominently…again:

in a dream where the air is soft by a simple space nerd: “El has hair slicked back behind her ears, darkly ringed eyes, and somewhat bedraggled clothes, and Max would normally steer clear of people looking like her, but she’s heard so much about El, and God, why is this group of friends so unlike everyone else Max has ever met? Max never used to care about what random people thought of her. “Curse you, stalker,” she mutters half-heartedly.” [I love Mike and Max in this one. This has to be my favourite interpretation of both characters, hands down. This fic is so in tune with characterisation, it can be considered canon.]

more than one best friend by topangamatthews: “El’s first best friend is Mike, but he’s not her last.”

after the gate closed* by insomniacwriter17: “Just one shots about all the little head canons I have.”

el’s word book* by Noth_lit_9: “El is frustrated that her vocabulary lags behind those of her friends, so Hopper wants to provide her with a way to see her growth.”

it’s okay to not be okay by talesfromthesnogbox: “Jim Hopper knew it was a real emergency when he was woken in the night by a phone call from his son-in-law Mike from the hospital. All was not well, but Jim reminds Mike that sometimes it’s okay to not be okay.”

teenage girls by EvieSmallwood: “El & Max hang out at the arcade. They talk about the present and the future.”

a is for alphabet* by urdearestmom: “Each chapter is a letter of the alphabet, lots of fluff and laughs ensue.”

so i could kill them for you by valancysnaith: “Max deserves so much better. The party is there for her.”

okay, so I had a lot more, but my Cloud messed the fuck up and deleted half of the bookmarks I made. now, I gotta go and track down the fics I lost…

UPDATE: part VI is out.

#mileven #mileven fanfiction #mileven fanfiction recommendation list #mileven fanfiction recommendation #character: mike wheeler #character: eleven #pairing: mike x eleven #tv: stranger things #fanfiction recommendations #in this tag resides fanfiction #♔: victrix #*

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wessybabe-blog · 5 years

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Dear Oliver

By: Criselle Bolante & Wesley Paligar

HU12

It was indeed a chilly morning. As usual, I started preparing myself to school. It’s not just an ordinary day to me though; it’s my first day on my new school.

Yes I know, transferring from schools suck. Well maybe it's just me because I'm not that sociable at all. I have social problems, not that I'm ill or what but I've always been bullied.

Can you imagine having new set of bullies from every new school?

That actually happened to me before, but I hope this time it's different. I want to start something new. I want to stop getting hurt and getting beaten around like a fucking rag doll. I want people to stop hurting me and making me bleed like a pig.

Sometimes I question the world about what I've done to deserve all of this- on why people have to be so cruel ,unfair and insensitive. Despite all of this, there's always something inside me. A spark that calls for hope that keeps me on continuing my life and believing that not all people are bad, that some people really do care and that's also the thing that keeps me on moving from place to place in hopes of finding the place where I really belong, a place in which I can call home.

Home, this word brought a myriad of thoughts inside my head. I suddenly felt my chest tightening and there was a lump forming at the back of my throat. The bitter coldness of the weather isn't helping at all. One person came into my mind and it was my mother.

My mother was someone who doesn't deserve to be remembered at all. When I was just an infant, I was neglected by my mother who was pregnant during her teenage years. I was a mistake. She threw me at a dump. I was actually about to die but someone was able to find and rescue me. I was brought to a charity home that raises kids. It was a charity home run by religious nuns. They’ve raised and fed me well enough until such time when things changed.

During my teenage years, my behaviour was not similar to that of the ordinary boys. I was attracted to the same sex that I've had. I had minor crushes. I know that this is not natural at all and this doesn't have to reach the nuns. I was taught religiously that boys must be boys and girls must be girls. Not long after, the nuns figured it out. I remembered the horrified look on Sister Martina's face when she found out I was gay.

I think I've had enough. I don't despise God nor hate him but this is who I am and I believe that He made me like this and that he loves me for who I am and no one can change that. It's not that I'm an ungrateful child but I've decided to escape the charity and live my own life alone. I've roamed around the streets without anything in hand and was exposed to the cruelty of the world. I won't forget that time, that memory will haunt me forever.

*flashback*

I was on the streets. Half-passed out and dying of great hunger. I already accepted that I would die when a boy with brown hair and piercing blue eyes suddenly went to me and gave me a loaf of bread after seeing me in that state. He was an angel; the loaf of bread that he gave me was the only thing I have. I started eating the bread, tears streaming down my eyes and my heart thumping with gratitude. I wasn't able to speak. "Hey Caelan let's go!" said a woman who was with the boy. From that moment on, the name Caelan never left my mind.

*end of flashback*

I realized that it's already getting late and I would probably be late for school if I didn't hurry enough. Erie High School was a 15 minute walk away from the apartment I was dwelling in. I grabbed my old bike and started my way to school. The slippery road wasn't helping at all. Fortunately I've reached my destination on time. The school’s atmosphere seems to be really refreshing and unnerving at the same time. There was a change of view of course since this is a new school for me. But there was something that makes my stomach clench on its own.

“Nothing new” I thought to myself. There were students in groups; there were jocks, nerds and bitches. Of course there would be a social hierarchy…. What was I expecting? Pure bunch of nerds who doesn't give a fuck about something except for studying and getting straight A's?? I parked my ragged bike to the side of the building and started my way towards the school's hall.

It was the epitome of awkwardness. If looks could kill, I would unrecognizably dead by now perhaps?? The school's population is surprisingly small and I think seeing new faces are something that would eventually become apparent and obvious. Nevertheless, I got my schedule and started locating my first class. I was lost not long after. I don't want to ask help from somebody so I went on with my own. I have finally managed to find it but I was 10 minutes late though.

"Good morning ma’am" I said while heaving breathlessly. "Take your seat" she said without looking at me. "Oliver Scullion right?" she asked while looking straight at me, stopping me on my way. "Yes ma’am"

I replied. I made my way to the only vacant chair at the back when I felt a sudden sharp pain on my right ankle. Before I knew it, I was sprawled face flat on the floor.

Fuck it. This will leave a bruise for sure. I looked back to see who tripped me. It was a tall and thin boy with a smug look on his face. That annoying smirk of his would be something I would like to erase on the face.

"Jasper stop" said the professor. So that jerk's name is Jasper huh?? I helped myself recover and hurriedly went to my chair. My lips were so painful. It started bleeding and I tried licking it off. "Ugh" that familiar rusty taste engorged my taste buds. It kept on bleeding and it seems that it won't stop. I tried looking around to find something that would help a bit and saw the most beautiful eyes in the world. It was oddly familiar.

It belongs to the guy seated next to me whom I haven’t noticed since I entered the room. He has light brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He was kinda tall and was quite muscular, lean and beefy. "Here" he gave me a piece of band aid and a small handy pack of cotton balls. “Uuhm thanks!” I thanked him shyly. I felt myself face warm up and before I knew it I was blushing red as a tomato.

"Caelan at your service" he smiled. Why does his name sound familiar? It seems like I already know him. I nodded awkwardly. “Hey I'm Oliver and I-I'm new here" I stuttered. "I see, there aren't that many students in this school and you've been talked about before you even entered the gate" He wiggled his eyebrows and beamed at me. That smile, it warms the coldest of hearts.

The bell rung and it was time for the next class. I started fixing my stuff immediately. I started looking around but Caelan was nowhere to be found. I guess I shouldn't attach myself to people that much.

My day continued with the most boring classes ever. But I can't remove the smile of my face after realizing that Caelan was indeed that angelic boy who rescued me from starvation. I don't think he would remember me anyway. I wish he would. I rode my bike on my way home and started sleeping early. There was some sort of motivation inside me after knowing that I've seen Caelan once again. I couldn't sleep; I kept thingking all the things that happened to me today. “Maybe I could talk to him again tomorrow” I said to myself. Luckily I still drifted off to sleep despite my bothered mind. I woke up anxiously, getting myself ready and going off.

The random stares from the old students are still there though. I guess it's just normal since it's just my 2nd day as a transferee. I scanned the halls for any sign of Caelan since I really wanted to talk to him.

Searching desperately for Caelan I bumped into some bulky figure . " Watch out loser" a deep mocking voice called out. He grabbed me by my collar and I reflexively closed my eyes and braced myself for a possible punch.

Miraculously a narrow nasal voice called out "Will, we don't have time for that. Get your ass over here!”

"Fuck off Xavier, I wanna give this loser a piece of my mind" replied Will. " Will. Just stop it. We don't have time for that and we still have something TO DO.”

Not long after, they finally left me. I breathe a sigh.

My nightmare's happening again. I was expecting a new life away from all the pain the moment I transferred from this school.

But everything seems to be turning the opposite way.

Fortunately I found Caelan on his lockers. I don't think it's the right time to talk to him though. I just feel like I'm about to cry. I was planning on greeting him on the way then going off on my own when he stopped me on my tracks.

"Hey Oliver! Do you have plans later?" Caelan asked quite enthusiastically.

"I guess I don't have? Why'd you ask?" I responded curiously.

"U-uhm can you come with me later this afternoon? Perhaps you don't have something to do? Would you mind if I invite you?" He started scratching his head and he was actually blushing. He can't look at my eyes though.

I can't stop giggling inside. Caelan wanted to hang out with me?! Seriously?! " Yea sure, ye-yeah" I stammered. I was expecting Caelan to be happy since I've accepted his invitation but I've seen worry in his eyes instead. From that moment, I knew something was wrong. I asked him if everything was ok. He said he was fine. Then we parted ways.

I can't wait to go home and prepare myself.

I started wearing the most comfortable yet presentable clothes I have and in a flash I was in Borough bridge, the agreed meeting place with Caelan.

Caelan was wearing a black shirt which in my opinion was quite odd. I don't really think he's that type of person that likes to wear black

I was walking towards him with his back against me .When something covered my nose and mouth. The texture seems similar to that off a handkerchief but it's kinda wet and it has a sharp scent on it. I struggled and struggled knowing that they might kidnap me. But with no luck, my vision started blurring and and I felt really drowsy. Everything went blank.

"Ouch, where am I?" I moaned in pain. Every tissue in my body hurts like hell. Then I hear whispers, those voices. They're familiar and I'm certain that they're from my school. "HEEEEEELP" I screamed at the top of my lungs. If they are from my school then that means I might have a chance of surviving!

The air was dense and the place reeks of Earth. This looks like an abandoned basement. I was tied to a wooden chair with my hands in cuffs.

Four familiar figures emerged from the door and to my surprise it was Jasper, Will, Xavier and Ca-Caelan?

"Caelan what's happening? where am I?”

"Shut up faggot, you deserve some good ass whopping.”

"Knew you were a faggot who's in desperate need of date."

I can't believe what's happening right now. Those words were coming out from Caelan's mouth. This must be a dream! A nightmare! Impossible!

His once angelic eyes were replaced with menacing ones instead Glaring at me so intensely as if his ultimate goal was to kill me.

His rage tore my heart into pieces. As if it has not been torned many times before. It was crushed into fine pieces like that of the sand.

A strong punch landed on my stomach, then another one but this one was undeniably stronger. I was kicked by the side and the wooden chair I was sitting came tumbling with me.

Fits of mocking laughter could be heard from across the room. It was from the three guys. That stood behind Caelan.

Oh good Lord. Please don't tell me that Caelan was with these 3 jerks all this time!!!

"S-s-stop C-Caelan. Please .stop." I pleaded.

My mouth was filled with the taste of rust and I know I might die anytime soon. I'm fucking bleeding.

I was kicked, punched, slapped and spoken harsh verbal words. And every second was unbearable. Of all people, Caelan was the one who's doing everything. What did I do to deserve this kind of thing? Do I really deserve this? Maybe the world is pure evil after all, that good people do not exist.

After hours of beating they finally left me seeing my fully beaten body. But I think they might come back so I take that as my time to escape. Every subtle movement send penetrating pain throughout my body. I was wounded, both soul and body. I don't know what to do. Continuing was something that came first from my mind. I wasn't able to think clearly. I've limped all the way home crawling, limping, tumbling, and puking blood.

Caelan POV

What have I done?! My arms are shaking. I want Oliver to know that I didn't mean all of this to happen. It was Xavier's fault! the leader of the Snake Gang.

They blackmailed me into hurting him and bullying him or else they would kill him before I knew.

I don't want them to hurt him! I know what that Gang can do to my Oliver.

The moment Oliver walked into the class. There's just something about him that makes me want to protect him. I know people have been hurting him and I want to kill them for that!

I've seen the bruises all over his body and my heart ached so much seeing him in such situation.

I would never forget that time when he was sprawled across the streets. I wanted to take him home but Mom wouldn't accept him. That's why I brought him a loaf of bread from the basket mom had. I wanted to hug him but it was time to go said Mom.

Oh Oliver. I love you so much!

His bloodied form haunted me.

I can't sleep that night.

The next day I came to school early as possible in order to find oliver's whereabouts and perhaps talk to him all about this and that I didn't mean to.

But they said he-he's dead.

Oliver's dead. My Oliver

They told me that he committed suicide in his apartment. Cutting and making himself bleed and from that moment on. I knew I was dead. Tears started streaming down my face. My body's shaking in disbelief and I can't think properly. I wanted to kill myself.

He's dead. My Oliver is dead.

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reach-for-recovery-and-the-stars · 7 years

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I am being brave and posting one of my own poems, I’d love feedback - I’m sure there’s some errors spelling and grammar! Please try to be kind - I’m nervous about posting it

Suicide is a sin because you’re beating God at his own game, that’s what you once told me.

You told me that I cannot die I must live to see the flowers that bloom early in the season, and I must encourage the small child on their bike that one day they’ll forget they never knew how.

You told me I needed to see all the sunsets and sunrises so I can count my days by color and the shape of the clouds, and you told me to look up into the blue skies and follow it until it lands into somebodies eyes, and when I see those blue eyes if my heart doesn’t skip a beat and my tummy doesn’t flutter, then I didn’t follow the sky long enough, I looked below me too soon.

You also told me that blue eyes aren’t the whole world, you told me that green eyes melt into the warm cup of tea on a cold afternoon, with a hint of honey in their hair, their bodies will be a blanket to hold me when I am scared,

But don’t worry because sometimes you need brown eyes like a fresh pot of coffee in the morning to raise you up, to be the freshness you need to see, and to be the laziness you feel on a hot summer day,

But again, maybe you prefer the soft hazel eyes when your body is weak with exhaustion and you need the colors of calmness to reel you back in and you can’t decide if you want coffee or tea, so you say if I can’t have both, I’ll have none.

You told me I cannot die because I need to find the hidden treasures in the mountains, the small things people often overlook when they see.

You told me to hear the wind howl, sure, but to listen for the silence that follows afterwards,

You told me to splash in the river and to wash myself with the pureness because that’s the closest thing to a godlike thing you’ll ever feel.

You told me to watch the sunrise in the morning so I can wait all day for the sunset and I can count how many stars at night I’ll be able to see and to make a wish on every sparkle I can count because anything can come true if you wish and work hard enough.

You told me to roll in the green meadows and to not pick the flowers because even they have a home in the earth, you told to feel the earth’s wonders beneath my feet, to touch ever rock I thought was cool, and to stand at each mountain top and breathe the fresh air because baby, you ain’t never gonna see the same thing twice.

When I travelled to a new country you told me to try all the new foods and drink all the new wonders and to talk with all the people. You told me to learn new things and adapt a new way of life because even if the way you’re living works, you can always learn something new.

You told me to look at the stars each night if I feel lost because someone I love is looking at them too, and you told me that I am never alone in my sadness, you told me that I needed to explore every corner and read all the books so I can find someone just like me too.

You told me I cannot die because I have so much to learn that I don’t know still, I had papers to write, math to complete, theories to memories, and history to repeat itself in the form of a classroom lecture. You promised me that it would be worth it to learn and know what knowledge I have because someone else in the world would love to learn what I know and I have the power to teach someone else.

You told me to never give up on myself even when the bullies got me down, even when the girls in the locker room threw shoes at me for being gay, even when the PE teacher wouldn’t listen, even when I stopped listening to myself you told me I had to keep going.

You told me to take care of this body that I have, to love the skin I was given, to love the mind I have created, to love myself even when I hate myself. You told me I wouldn’t survive without being my own friend.

When I was down and my head was between my knees when anxiety took over going over every worst thing that could happen and my depression told me I was useless I had you sit next to me and hold me tighter and tighter because I was not the superglue that could hold myself together, I was broken and too tired to do it myself.

And you whispered again to me that I cannot die because there’s people in the world dying every day, I cannot die because I have a mother who loves me and brothers who need me and a dog who depends on me. You told me I had friends who cared for me and teachers who believed in me, and lovers who’d love me for everything I am and everything I am not, and you told me that I could not kill myself because I had so many beautiful and wonderful reasons not to.

And in the heat of the moment, I was so tired of your voice, and so sick of your words, and so beaten down, I shattered you.

So if I could go back in time and change one thing from my past, I would have tried to listen to your words a little longer and stopped myself from breaking the mirror.

#my poem #nervous about doing this #please be kind #self love #acceptance #stop self abuse #Together we can prevent suicide

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johannesviii · 7 years

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Eater of Wasps

Some highlights of the last EDA I’ve read (Eater of Wasps).

I took these screens while reading, along with my reactions. As usual, this is full of spoilers.

O-kay, so this cover is pretty gruesome, I wonder if this is a-

OH SHIT OH NO

Well, that was unexpectedly great.

The problems keep piling up in this story and the action never really stops. It’s pretty straightforward and I wish some characters were given a bit more to do, but the regulars are still well written. Eight hasn’t been this alien since The Burning (which makes sense since it’s the same kind of story, with a basic plot but written like a thriller), Fitz is his usual loyal self, even when he’s scared shitless by the events, and Anji has some of the most interesting moments.

It’s also a real page-turner, with some gloriously horrible body horror left and right and more than a few laughs among all the stress. Unlike the previous book, this one doesn’t really try to make a point, it has a very traditional structure (if you forget the ton of gore thrown at us), and it’s just a gripping adventure with no other goal in mind. Definitely refreshing. 8/10

Okay this is a Baxendale book, so... how long have we got before the body horror and/or the killing starts

THAT WAS LITERALLY THE FIRST LINE

The TARDIS sounds like “a rather poorly cow”, according to this lady.

I laughed out loudly

Get back in the police box, Fitz, you unshaven untrustworthy criminal

Still laughing but I hope this old bigot dies in this story tbh

This description of our current Eight is simultaneously delightful and sad.

Miss “Old-bat-on-a-bike” Havers sounds exactly like a certain person who’s currently running for president in my country and who I hope to see crash and burn in the near future with all my heart

How many racist bigots are there in Miss “I-speak-for-the-whole-village” Havers’ shoes exactly

WELP TIME FOR FUN HEADCANONS ABOUT DANY PINK’S FAMILY TREE

“MISS HAVERS APPEARED READY TO COLLAPSE UNDER THIS ONSLAUGHT OF FOREIGN-SOUNDING NAMES”

Nope. Nope.

Eight wants to drive a tractor.

Also wasn’t he travelling far away from England in the thirties? I recall he said something like that in The Turing Test.

I’m smiling through the sadness this is confusing

Eight geeking about vintage cars, everyone

I really like the Pink brothers so far, so I’m pretty sure at least one of them is going to suffer horribly in this story

Well that’s also what Lawrence Miles claims and his books are roughly 50% politics so I don’t know about this

Eh eh

Eight playing Paranoid on a piano is my new aesthetic

Also I wondered how it would sound like on a piano and holy shit look at this video this person is so talented, like, damn

I don’t know who Kala is but her haircut made me laugh

So Rigby’s possessed by the wasps in some way?

Anji saying “bloody” impresses Hilary Pink and I find this endearing, somehow

We know, Eight, we know

The descriptions of the TARDIS team are great in this book.

I love this scene??

“There was something wrong” = understatement of the month

This creeps me out way more than the wasps themselves, to be honest, because I don’t particularly hate them. I have no idea how painful a wasp sting is because I’ve never been attacked by any of them ever. Granted, I don’t like them, but still.

Wait a second, is the old bigot contaminated too now?

“PITY ABOUT THE PLUMS”

COULD YOU PRETEND TO BE SAD ABOUT THE DEAD GUY FOR TWO CONSECUTIVE SECONDS YOU WALNUT

Extremely relatable

Run away. Run. Away.

Anji no

Good description cut, like, 10/10 would cut again

Can I breathe now? Cause I’d really enjoy that

Apparently I can’t

OH NOT MY HEART HE KEPT THE LETTER FOR 90 YEARS

I’m laughing like an idiot, that never gets old

Still laughing by the way

Well you did ask

Always the best course of action

I love this scene so much oh my god

Well that’s completely different, then

Have I already told you I loved this new TARDIS team with all my heart

[Unexpected sadness]

1) Eight was a sailor during the thirties, why isn’t there a book about that

2) Is that a reference to Pertwee’s tattoo?

3) If Eight really has a tattoo, wouldn’t that be a first (Three’s tattoo was there for real life reasons so it doesn’t really count)?

4) A tattoo of what

5) Where

6) If he hasn’t one and that’s all a lie… is… is he flirting with Fitz

I have no words

My hair is standing on end on my arms I’m not even joking at all holy f█cking shit that’s so f█cking creepy

OH. THAT’S EASY THEN. JUST IGNORE THE HUMAN WASP HIVE STANDING ABSOLUTELY STILL IN COMPLETE DARKNESS WITH HIS MOUTH OPEN TWO METERS AWAY FROM YOU. JUST IGNORE HIM. BECAUSE THAT’S VERY EASY, RIGHT

This shouldn’t be that funny but I’m half laughing half cringing

This scene is terrifying and hilarious at the same time, which results in me cringing like there’s no tomorrow

F█CK I KNEW IT

Holy shit Doctor

Good job, Kala, 10/10

Don’t we all

Oh god please try to explain the context to the police, Eight, I really want you to explain how you arrived in a police box and how Wasp Man is menacing that village because somebody dropped an alien thingie there

Nevermind

Funnier in hindsight

Fitz Kreiner, prison cells connaisseur

Of course he wouldn’t, but that’s still concerning.

Wait Miss “Old-bat-on-a-bike” Havers isn’t dead yet? Is there no justice in the world? (don’t answer that)

“I’m not sure what he is”

Oh that's perfectly normal then

Hey isn’t that the cover of the book?

Eight this is an autopsy for crying out loud don’t act like it’s an unboxing video

Oh. Oh wait. Oh f█ck. Is this book “SCP-439, but with wasps and the victims are mobile"? Oh shit that’s suddenly ten times worse

KILL IT WITH FIRE

FOR THE LULZ For the Vine no idea

Okay book I like you very much but there’s only so many times I can say "nope" in this liveblog and I’m going to run out of nopes soon

EXTREMELY RELATABLE??

I know the feeling, Eight, but please try to focus

That’s… that’s not exactly what she meant, Fitz. I do adore the fact that you had prepared an answer to that question, though

Hehe of course he would offer mint humbugs instead of jelly babies just to troll everyone about the wasps thing – also I want one, I’ve never tasted one before

Oh no cute

[Takes references for future drawings]

Honestly I love this description

SCREAMING

THERE’S BEEN A LOT OF GREAT SCENES IN THIS BOOK ALREADY BUT THAT’S IN THE TOP THREE FOR SURE

Eight you nerd

...........of course you did

implying things aren’t messy already

"overtactile"

Also I still can’t get this out of my head, wasn’t she attacked earlier ?

Ignore me I’m just dying a little bit over there

10/10 would fraud again

This book is almost non-stop action AND funny AND scary and honestly it would be a top-grade perfect Doctor Who book if the writing was slightly better and if the plot was a bit more original

Eight this is a bad idea and you know it

Anji is channelling my exact reaction

Eight every time you end up fighting someone it doesn’t end well for you

That quote is wonderful, I’m gonna memorise it for future D&D games

“It always looks easier in the movies”

This f█cking dialogue oh my god

Or perhaps you could blast the fire extinguisher right in his face before he hurts anyone else, just an idea

“Mad? I’m absolutely furious"

Nobody No-One’s on the phone & he wants his quote back

That’s always been one of my favorite things with Eight, his tendency to take one look at trolley problems and be like "nah". People die accidentally all the time but most of the time he refuses to be the person who decides who lives and who dies. Of course it’s highly debatable, but that’s what makes it interesting in the first place.

"Hope this is not Chris's blood"

Friendly reminder that the Doctor can detect blood types

I don’t know why but that particular sentence makes me laugh, the mental picture is irresistible

Fitz is that guy who always gets killed in slasher movies

And Eight can finally drive a tractor eeeeeee

That’s it that’s the book

Still in love with the descriptions from Rigby’s point of view, by the way.

GREAT EXACTLY WHAT WE NEEDED

GREAT EXACTLY WHAT WE NEEDED 2: THE QUICKENING

Also a defining trait of Eight in all his stories: his refusal to give up. Which is why the beginning of Dark Eyes was so great. And also Ship in a Bottle, because sometimes people need to remind him there’s always hope.

And that’s also what makes Night of the Doctor so heartwrenching ; it’s the Doctor who “never ever gives up” finally giving up, for good.

1) Anji is still channelling my thoughts 2) Honestly I’m glad Rigby’s now an actual monster because the human hive thing standing motionless in complete darkness was infinitely more creepy to me