#oh also to clarify: I’m okay with sharing her!! that’s how things are for the moment
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"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | Part X
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader
enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+
CHAPTER X WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - strong language, more angst, mention of dr*g abuse during childhood trauma, mentions of death and injuries, Max in a coma, fearful tears, shared sadness, major end-of-the-world terror talk. 18+
AUTHOR'S NOTE: As we dive deeper into just how in love Steve and Bauman continue to fall...we also dive deeper into darkness.
We get a glimpse into the childhood past of Bauman Squared.
Steve finally gets to laugh again with his kids -- and with the girl he wants to have his own kids with one day.
Dr. Owens comes back, but it's not why they expected. Erica is given the hardest burden of all. Robin & Eddie are the whacky aunt and uncle that everyone needed and basically get shit back on track while being thrown hard news. Argyle is actually just a kind dude. Nancy is pulling away, while Jonathan finally feels the gut-punching gravity of what he is losing. Jopper is still carrying the weight of both worlds.
And surprise, b*tches: DIMITRI IS BACK AND BOY IS HE SOOO BACK.
Lastly: chicken nuggets. That is all.
WHILE THIS IS A FANFICTION STORY: IT IS STILL MY WRITING. PLEASE RIGHTFULLY CREDIT ME WHEN REPOSTING OR SHARING. I DO NOT GRANT YOU PERMISSION TO POST MY WRITING AS YOUR OWN.
- MISHA @sheisjoeschateau
PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED.
IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+
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OH SO WE DO LOVE STEVE | Chapter X
“Why do I feel like this is some sort of twisted intervention?”
Erica Sinclair stood in the kitchen next to Murray as he cooked up something to share with a table of adults and teens — plus her.
“In a way, it is,” Murray responded to her as he stirred his ingredients.
“...okayyyy,” Erica sassed, suspiciously. “...then why do you want me here but not my brother or my other friends?”
Murray rolled his eyes. Erica’s attitude was truly the one thing that could bring Murray’s entire mental empire crumbling down like a tower of cards being blown over by a gust of wind. He pointed his spatula in her direction.
“Think of it this way, kiddo,” he said through a wry, condescending smirk. “It’s like getting invited to sit at the adults’ table instead of the kids’ table for thanksgiving. And you’re the only one we’re inviting before you get to go up there and hang out with your little friends. Alright?”
Erica narrowed her eyes. “What do I need to know that they don’t?”
Sauce dripped from the spatula as he stared at her. Christ, she was relentless. Then again…at least she seemed somewhat perturbed by the idea of knowing things before her brother and their friends. That was pretty damn selfless for Erica Sinclair. She cocked an eyebrow at Murray — who squinted back at her.
“Okay, why are you not as willing about this as I thought you’d be…”
“Look,” Erica said, crossing her arms. “If I’m going to be made to keep a secret? I need to know all the facts first. Especially if I have to keep it from my brother. And Steve. And Bauman.”
Murray sighed through his nose. She was right. Mature, and right.
“I don’t want you to keep it a secret for good,” Murray clarified, speaking slowly. “I just — we just need you to be made aware of some things before we bring it to everyone else’s attention. And truth be told? Harrington needs a break. So does my niece. And your friends? They need some time with mom and dad. You do, too. But right now? You’re the party member in charge of taking on some big information before we spread it to the rest of them. And quite frankly? I’m counting on you to help me — and the rest of us — help break it to them. Got it?”
Erica let all of that land, her guarded expression softening into one of civil understanding. She pursed her lips, considering this. Finally, she nodded.
“Alright. Deal.”
Murray shot her a thumbs up, resuming his cooking.
“That’s really lumpy,” Erica pointed to his saucepan with a soured expression.
“Ohforheaven'ssake —”
__________________________
Robin had taken on laundry duty on Steve’s behalf, knowing that Jonathan intended to talk with him. Which is why she’d asked Nancy to help her with it, and it has turned out to be a good thing.
Nancy was clearly fraying at the seams. There was a lot going through her mind, and it was all spiraling fast. She needed someone to talk to, but none of her options seemed safe.
She had no idea how or when to break everything she had been feeling to Steve.
Her relationship with Jonathan was so tense and strained, any conversation shared with him had just blown up.
And her mom would need to know everything about the upside down, in order to give her proper advice…and at this rate, that option seemed to have no place in this world.
She couldn’t go to Joyce, because that’s Jonathan’s mom.
Hopper and Murray were out of the question.
She wasn’t close enough with Eddie to even consider it.
And Argyle? Well, he’d said about as much as he could say. Far more than what she’d expected, if she was being honest.
Nancy’s only other option was Robin Buckley.
“God, I swear — the air’s a disease at this point.”
Robin had sat next to Nancy on the porch, carrying the laundry basket. Nancy quickly wiped a few stray tears, which Robin pretended not to notice – even when Nancy shot her a very forced, tight-lipped grin.
“Yeah,” Nancy chuckled wetly. “It’s uhh, yeah. Plagued at this point. Thanks, Vecna.”
Robin nodded with a smirk. “Yeah. Thanks a lot, Vecna. Fuck you, man.”
That made Nancy giggle, which Robin was grateful to see. She decided to start off slow, not wanting to force anything. After all, clearly Nancy was clearly going through it. And the way she and Robin had started off? Not great. Buckley was definitely not trying to push her luck. Sure, the two of them had gotten along super well as time passed, truly becoming friends while living in Steve’s house. But they weren’t exactly best friends. Friends for sure. But not like Nancy and Barb had been. Not even close.
“You know,” Robin mused. “Sometimes, I think back to high school and how…I never really had a best friend while I was there. Not like you did.”
That made Nancy turn to look at her, curiosity radiating for her bright blue eyes.
“You and Barb,” Robin explained. “You two were thick as thieves. She always made sure to take extra notes in Click’s class for you.”
Nancy’s eyes shone with melancholy fondness. “She did…?”
“Yeah,” Robin smiled. “Always. Saved them on little flashcards and everything. She was always like, ‘I gotta make sure I get this for Nance.’ Or whenever something crazy went down in the classroom, I could tell she was just itching to tell you about during lunch or after school.”
Nancy beamed at that. She shook her head, grinning widely. “God, I swear… Barb was like — like that little old lady who couldn’t help but wanna gossip. Even though she hated drama, she loved it at the same time. As long as it wasn’t hers or ours.”
“That totally tracks,” Robin snorted. “What an icon, really.”
“Schyeah,” Nancy giggled wholeheartedly. “Yeah, she…she was the best.”
Robin watched as Nancy gnawed at her lip, feeling the wave of sadness wash over her.
“I just wish…” Nancy murmured, voice shaky. “Just wish that I could…talk to her sometimes, you know? Not just to tell her how sorry I am. For everything that happened before she…”
Nancy’s voice trailed off. Robin dared to reach over and touch her shoulder, relieved when Nancy didn’t push her away or tense underneath her touch.
“I just wanna ask her questions,” Nancy’s voice shook. “So many questions, like…like the way we used to. As best friends. About — everything. Life, family, love…friends…the end of the fucking world…”
Robin nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”
Because Robin did know. Whenever she had become best friends with Steve, it had made her world significantly brighter. Her heart was full, and her soul had been lifted out of its constant anxiety-ridden state. Robin had been so closed off to bonding with anyone, especially the likes of Steve Harrington. Little did she know, that guy would end up being her truest best friend and confidant. The one she could lean on, tell anything to and count on for the rest of her life. However short that might be, given the end of the world… But she had Steve by her side, trusting him with every secret she had and her literal life in his hands.
Barb had been that for Nancy. But she was gone.
“I don’t know what to do,” Nancy’s voice cracked. She looked over at Robin with tear rimmed eyes, fighting them from falling as she bit down on her trembling lip. “About…anything.”
Robin kept listening, wanting so badly to go on a rant but willing herself not to. Because right now, it’s Nancy who needs to rant. She needed to ramble until she couldn’t anymore.
“I’ve been so…God, I’ve been so in love with Jonathan since we met and…got through all of this together. It just…just...worked. Clicked, made sense. Way more sense than Steve, but — but Steve and I, we…what we had was…it was real. Really real. Even Barb saw it, she just — just didn’t want me getting hurt, or…losing myself for a guy. But I didn’t really. Steve never pushed me to do anything that I didn’t wanna do, or…wasn’t ready for. Ever. Not once. He was kind to me, and…and I feel like…like I just… I think I’m the one who did wrong by him. Not the other way around. All because I just felt so…lost, and conflicted, and scared, and unsure, and…and…”
Nancy curled in on herself, tears falling down her cheeks as she ducked her face out of sight. But Robin scooched closer to her, enveloping her into a comforting embrace as she wept. And Nancy let her, allowing herself to lean against her.
“I told him what we had was bullshit and it wasn’t,” Nancy cried bitterly. “It wasn’t, he's not -- I was just…so fucking mad that Barb was gone. And it was easier to blame Steve, all because he wasn’t hurting the way that I was. The way that I still am. But that’s — that’s n-not — b-because he d-doesn’t…c-care…”
Nancy’s shoulders convulsed, and Robin’s heart broke for her as she held her tighter.
“B-but Jonathan had lost Will, so h-he…he got it. H-he knew wh-what I was…going through… And I-I j-just felt...so r-right with him. Because l-looking at him didn’t remind me of…of…”
Nancy choked on a sob.
Robin knew she meant Barb. She didn’t have to say it.
“I’m angry. For me, for Barb, for Steve, for Jonathan…my mom, dad, Mike…everyone. All the time. And I just d-don’t know what to do, because…Jonathan shut me o-out, and w-wanted to b-break up with m-me all because he felt like…he was…holding me back, and wouldn’t just t-talk…to me…and then S-Steve… Steve, h-he wanted me back b-but now…h-he…he loves…he loves…”
Nancy ugly cried into her palms, muffling the noise so that it wouldn’t be heard from anyone inside. Robin clung to her, rocking them back and forth with some gentle, soothing shushes.
“He loves her, Robin,” Nancy cried, heartbreak and anguish lacing her voice. “He loves her, and s-she loves him back. S-so much…b-better than I d-did…and I…I should be…so h-happy for him. And h-her, but I just…I just…wonder if I…did I…did I m-mess up…? Did I lose the p-person I was s-supposed to b-be with? I just didn’t…think he’d…move on…and that’s so…fucking SELFISH of me…”
Robin squeezed her. “It’s not selfish. It’s human. Steve is amazing. But Nancy…it’s okay that you didn’t go back to him.”
“But you thought I should,” Nancy leaned back now. She looked at Robin dead in the eye with bloodshot, red rimmed eyes. They swam in regrets, sorrows and bitterness.
“You and Eddie both thought that we should,” she said, voice croaked and upset. “Y-you both…thought that we…shouldn’t have…broken up, or…”
“You’re right,” Robin admitted, feeling bad but deciding it was best to just own up to it. “You’re right, I did. We did. Me and Eddie. But Nancy…sometimes we’re just so distracted by what seems right…that we can’t see what’s actually right in front of us.”
Nancy looked at her quizzically. Robin sighed.
“Look, when you left Steve,” Robin explained, taking her hand into both of hers. “Back in senior year, and you got with Jonathan…you two had your own journey. You had each other. Steve? Steve had no one during his — except for the kids…and Bauman. Because back then, he didn’t know yet. He didn’t know about her and Murray intervening —”
“Yeah, I know,” Nancy said bitterly. “We all know that now.”
“Just hear me out,” Robin pleaded with her softly. “I promise, I’m with you, alright?”
Nancy stared at her for a moment, finally softening her tense jaw and nodding once. Robin picked back up, on cue.
“Steve still had a lot of growing up to do. On his own. Dustin was the first to reach out to him. Well, he basically forced himself on Steve. And Steve needed that. He’s an only child. He needed a little brother to give him grief, and boss him around and pick on him. You have Mike. Steve didn’t have that until Dustin wormed his way into his life." Robin added with a smile, " ...and his heart.”
Nany thought about that, expression pensive with realization.
“Then Bauman came along,” Robin continued. “She was Steve’s age… You and Jonathan were off with the adults. He got left behind to watch the kids with her. They went through…a lot of shit that night. You did, too. But so did they. They fought off Billy Hargrove. They protected the kids, fought off the demodogs in the tunnels. They survived the night together. You know what that feels like. You and Jonathan bonded that way. Right?”
Nancy hesitates but looks back at her, sniffing. Eventually, she nods again.
“Right," Robin exhales deeply, proceeding. "So Steve… Steve had someone his age to be around, along with the kids. And that was great. Because she’s independent and badass, but also really chill and down to earth. Like, some sort of femme tomboy. Which Steve lowkey kind of needed, she really was exactly what --"
“Robin, I get it,” Nancy snapped, not wanting to hear about you in a complimentary way. At least not at this moment.
“No, hear me out,” Robin insisted, giving her hands another squeeze. “You need to hear this, Nancy, alright? You know you’re beautiful. You know Steve has been helplessly in love with you for years. That’s not even a question.”
Robin paused, shifting gears again as she refused to let Nancy look away from her.
“...but Steve had to move on. Or…find ways to convince himself that he could. And Bauman? She was there for that. She was around, during all his growth. And trust me – it was ugly. You have nothing to envy there. God, the way that they argued? The way Steve talked to her, honestly? Honestly. You would’ve slapped him. I sure as hell did a few times. Mostly verbal slapping. But I hit him a few times, not gonna lie. You’ve seen the highlights of Steve’s growth. You have seen the best parts of him, but…but Bauman was there for all of it. She got to see it all happen in real time, from the second you and Jonathan met back up with them to right now. And she owned up to her shit, too. It wasn’t her fault, by no means was it her fault. But hey, she took the hits. Many times. And she still ended up falling in love with Steve, who she swore was the last person who would ever win her over. Those two knuckleheads were relentless whenever I came into the picture. Fighting like lovers in a quarrel with absolutely zero history of affection to show for it. But still, they got through shit together. They put their differences aside for the kids, and when it came to fighting off the Russians? She and Steve honestly kept me so sane. And they kept us safe, too. Me, Dustin and Erica. They didn’t get along in the real world, but in the upside down world? They did. They didn’t even think twice. Steve grew into a way better person because of her. And she opened up a lot more because of him, and the kids. She didn’t grow up with siblings either. That’s another thing they have in common.”
Nancy took all of that in with a solemn expression. Robin let that sink in before continuing.
“I know this is…a lot. But really, Nancy…so much happened while you were gone. Those two fell in love over time without even knowing it. Shit, we didn’t know it either. That was a plot twist for all of us — including Murray. Despite what he says, that guy does not know everything.”
Nancy scoffed. “I know that.”
“Of course you do. We all do. He does, too. Especially now. Now that his niece and Steve are clearly so head over heels in love with one another.”
Nancy’s heart sank at that. She knew that it was true.
“I’m not…” Nancy mumbled, eyes downcast. “I’m not mad at her for falling in love with him. Or him. I just…can’t help but wonder if I messed up. Missed out on someone that I loved more than I allowed myself to when we were together.”
“You couldn’t have loved him more back then, Nancy,” Robin corrected her. “Because who he was then, is not who he is now. And who he is now is someone that Bauman has played a huge role in him becoming.”
Nancy sniffed a few times, bringing her knees to her chest and lost in thought.
“Do you still love Jonathan?”
Nancy looked at her, surprised. “What?”
“Tell me what you’re feeling there,” Robin pressed gently. “Why is that going wrong again?”
Nancy got defensive. “Um, what’s wrong is that he clearly planned on leaving me while I was back here being loyal to him.”
“Right,” Robin mused. “But…what about after he got back? What happened then?”
Nancy opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t. She thought about that for a while.
“We just…” she started. “...we just…moved past it. We let it go.”
Robin nodded slowly. “After all you two have been through…knowing damn well that things need to be talked about…you both really thought that was best?”
“He doesn’t ever tell me how he actually feels,” Nancy snapped. “I’m so sick of it. I always have to push him to tell me things. He just — shuts me out. Clams up, retreats. He won’t even tell me when he’s upset about something unless I make him.”
“Well then,” Robin nods. “That’s definitely on him. But what about you?”
Nancy scrunches her face in confusion.
“Why didn’t you tell him how you felt either?” Robin asks, unblinking.
Nancy stares at her, not knowing how to answer that.
“I told him that I love him,” Nancy whispers. “And that I…that we’re fine.”
Robin’s expression softens. “Do you wanna be?”
Nancy’s face crumbles. “I…I want…”
Robin waits, not knowing what to expect but knowing that it’s getting somewhere.
“I want him to love me again,” Nancy cries in despair. “I want him to fight for me, and — and love me the way that I thought that he did. That he would. That he always would —”
Robin holds Nancy again as she convulses with sobs in her arms. They stay that way for a little while, allowing the dust to settle. Nancy has said enough for now. It would all unravel itself more over time.
Meanwhile, Eddie had told Jonathan to make his way upstairs and talk with Steve.
“You’re on, buddy boy,” Eddie told him with a hard pat on the back.
So while Jonathan made peace with Steve, Nancy had finally released some of her emotions and confided in Robin.
And now, all the adults were in the kitchen as Murray made some food for the older teens and Erica. They’d asked Robin and Eddie to make sure that Argyle, Jonathan and Nancy were all going to be present for it, along with Erica before she could go upstairs and join the kids.
So here they all were now: sitting at the dinner table while Murray and Erica served them up plates and bowls of random foods.
Jonathan had watched Nancy make her way into the kitchen with Robin, newly fresh faced and eyes puffy from crying. She wore her pajamas now, having taken a quick shower and washing off the anguish from her meltdown earlier. Jonathan’s heart cracked in two, and it did even more as Nancy went to sit next to Robin. He stood up, unable to help himself.
“I got you a seat here,” he said, voice shaky.
Nancy had looked over at him, eyes cold and expression blank.
“That’s alright,” she said, voice level and cool. “We share a room.”
Nancy sat next to Robin, demeanor cool and calm and collected. She was stiff, but there was a chilling resilience to her that Jonathan had not seen in a while. It terrified him, making his anxiety spike. Had he lost her? Was he too late?
He swallowed hard, accepting it — given everyone else at the table. Hopper had awkwardly reached for some pepper as this was happening, working in slow motion as he felt really uncomfortable. So Jonathan just nodded, and Joyce gave him a sympathetic look as she placed glasses of water and tea in front of everyone.
Eddie made concerned eye contact with Robin as he poured himself some water. Yikes.
“I’ll sit next to you, my dude,” Argyle said warmly, knowing he needed to step in. Jonathan was grateful for that, but still dying inside as he kept stealing glances at Nancy — who looked anywhere except his way.
Murray clicked his tongue loudly. “Alrighty then. Shall we?”
With a thud, he set down his plate. Joyce clenched her jaw but took a deep breath.
“Lay it on us,” Eddie said with a deep exhale, sitting down on the other side of Argyle.
“Yeah, what’s this pow-wow and why is it just this group who's on it?” Erica questioned as she stationed herself on the other side of Robin.
“Right,” Hopper sighed before shoveling a mouthful of mashed potatoes into his mouth and leaning back to chew, readying himself. Everyone waited patiently.
“Here’s the deal,” he began, leaning forward and eyeing everyone individually as he spoke. “No one here is being made to keep a secret. That’s not what’s going on.”
“So then why is it private?” Robin asked curiously.
“Because right now…we need to set some things straight. Set in stone. Before we dive into our group meeting tomorrow. Consider this…a board meeting of sorts.”
Jonathan furrowed his brow. “Don’t we want Bauman and Steve for that?”
Hopper sighed deeply, rubbing at his beard. “This affects them. And the kids.”
Eddie raised his eyebrows at that, feeling nervous. He looked over at Robin, who looked just as worried.
Erica scrunched her face up. “Then why am I here?…”
“Because I need one of you kids to be level headed and vouch for me,” Hopper explained. “And for Joyce and Murray. We’ve spent a lot of time figuring this out. Weighed out our options, talked to El about it.”
“Does she know?” Nancy asked.
“Some,” Hopper nodded. “Most… Not all.”
Erica leaned forward, truly listening and accepting that she was clearly going to need to stick with some sort of plan that her friends were not going to be keen on…
Hopper contemplated his next words carefully.
“Look. Tonight, I need those kids to rest. To laugh, play some card games. Eat too much candy, and just have a good night. Soak up all the fun they can get before this mandate goes into effect soon. And before we have to go forward with a plan.”
Hopper made sure that everyone was with him on that. Off their nods, he continued.
“There’s two groups. One that’ll stay here, in hiding. Down in the basement, where we’ve already started making up basecamp. They’ll have to stay hidden. Out of sight. Quiet. On high alert. It’s a gamble. Just because they’ll be home…it doesn’t guarantee them any safety.”
Hopper took a deep breath, eyes filled with dread. He rubbed at the gap between his pinched brows.
“…the other group will have to risk getting back out there. And we won’t be anywhere that’s not swarmed and completely surrounded by the government and — god-knows-who-else, before we can get ourselves back near the largest gate that’s torn itself open and is ready to swallow Hawkins.”
Everyone’s blood ran cold.
No one was safe. They weren’t before, but now? Nothing was off the table. Everything was high risk, no matter where anyone was stationed.
“If you’re sitting here,” Hopper continued slowly, voice grave, “at this table, listening to this conversation…minus Erica and Murray...you’re in Group 2. ”
Nancy and Jonathan both felt their chests constrict, but they understood. It didn’t surprise them per se. And at this point, nothing should scare them. But it did.
Joyce looked at her eldest son, torn but knowing it had to be done.
Erica looked over at Murray, who gave her a soft nod.
Robin and Eddie looked at each other, along with Argyle, shuddering.
“Dimitri is going with us,” Hopper added.
“Who’s he?” Jonathan asked.
“Russian soldier,” Joyce told him, holding up a hand to clarify. “He’s on our side.”
Jonathan hesitated but eventually gave her a small nod. He looked over at Nancy, who was staring down at the table with her teeth sunk into her bottom lip.
“He’s got insight,” Hopper continued. “Knows what we’re dealing with, and how to handle what we’re all up against. We’ll need as many of us as we can get out there. Those of us who know the risks, and know how to navigate this world.”
Robin processed that, thinking. “So that…where does that leave Steve and Bauman?”
Hopper was quiet. The way he gnawed his cheek made it clear that this was where it got messy.
“Steve is on the frontlines with us,” Hopper explained carefully. “…and Bauman is stationed back here with Murray and the kids, along with Dr. Owens.”
Robin’s heart sank, and so did Eddie’s. They both shared a sad, all-knowing look. They knew this wasn’t going to go well. At all. They knew that Steve was going to flip his shit at just the idea of leaving you out of his sight.
“Won’t Dr. Owens have a target on his back?” Eddie asked, concerned. “Won’t that — won’t that draw more danger here…?”
That made Robin look at Hopper, wide-eyed. The retired cop looked pale, eyes full of dread.
“He has to be here in case anything happens to Bauman or Max,” he explains solemnly. “Because if shit goes south here…they’ll need to run.”
Jonathan felt sick. This also meant leaving Will behind. “But…how? How can they run?”
“That’s where I come in,” Murray chimes in. “Between me and Erica and Dustin, we’ll be able to keep a close eye out for a signal — which Will can help us navigate.”
“Because he’s still connected to it all,” Joyce explains sadly. “He still…feels it. He senses when it’s near.”
“Which is why he’ll be able to give us a warning,” Murray nods, adding to Joyce’s input. “Since El has to be out there with you guys, we’ll still have a connected source that's here with us.”
“The kids can’t do this,” Hopper adds, tone firm. “Not this time. El doesn’t count, as much as I want her to stay back. She can’t. I know that.” He looks at Erica with parental eyes. “But as far as the rest of you kids go? No more. It’s already bad enough having to risk you all staying here. But if this is how it’s gotta go down? You’re staying where there’s a controlled space, with 2-3 solid abort mission plans — which Murray knows from top to bottom.”
Erica hangs her head, but she nods. She knows this makes sense.
“As for Bauman,” Hopper continues, eyes sad. “She’s not able to get back out there. Between her heart issues and her bad shoulder and ribs…she has to stay put.”
“No, I agree with that,” Robin says, voice full of gravel before she clears it. “But, umm…I’m just…really worried that…well it’s just — Steve, he’s um, he’s —”
“He’s going to have to do this,” Hopper interjects, but not unkindly. In fact, it’s full of empathy and remorse. “He knows the ways. You’ll all need him. His stamina, his strength. He’s strong, good with a bat and can outrun shit. He also knows what to keep an eye out for, whatever comes our way.”
Eddie gulps, partially because he’s terrified about facing the underworld again…but also because he knows that Steve will be a wreck the entire time he’s gone with them and not with you. And if Eddie’s being honest, the idea of leaving you and the kids behind is killing him too. He’s especially grown to love you and Dustin over the last year.
“This isn’t open for discussion,” Hopper says, voice firmer and tone low. “Tomorrow, when we have our living room meeting, I’ll be conveying this to everyone…along with Murray and Joyce. And I need to know I have each and every one of you on our side. Those kids are going to raise hell. All of them are. And this plan is not changing. It’s either this…or we all stay hunkered down until we rot. Am I making myself clear?”
Nancy and Jonathan nodded first, quickly followed by Robin and Eddie.
“Yes sir,” Argyle spoke first, and for the first time he genuinely looked aware of just how heavy all of this stuff really is. Jonathan gave his shoulder a quick squeeze.
“Erica,” Hopper was looking directly at the youngest person sitting across the table. “I’m counting on you. I know that’s not fair, but I am. You’re tough as nails. You’re gonna have to be that way with your brother, and his friends. Your friends. You'll have to be hard...but gentle enough to get it through to him. I don’t care what you gotta do, you do it. Whatever you have to say? Say it. And if anybody gives you shit for knowing this before they did…send them to me. Understood?”
Erica looked back at Hopper with the most somber expression. But she nodded.
“Understood,” she said, voice low.
Hopper gave her a curt nod before looking over at the older teens.
“As for you guys,” he said. “We all know the shit that just went down yesterday at the fence. Bauman’s always been at the frontlines with us. She can’t be now. And Steve cannot hang back. He’s got too much strength that we can’t afford to not have on our side of this battle. And I don’t care if Bauman insists she can do it. She can’t, and she won’t.”
“And if she gets stubborn,” Murray interjects, voice fierce. “Tell me. If she tries pulling a fast one? You tell me. Capiche?”
Eddie and Robin quickly nod up and down.
“I’ll talk to him if it gets bad,” Jonathan says in a weak voice.
Nancy narrows her eyes at him. Since when do he and Steve talk?
“Good,” Joyce says with a sad, tight-lipped grin and nod at her son. “He’ll need it.”
"I'll be there for him, too," Robin nodded at Jonathan.
“Will we be able to stay in contact with them at least?” Eddie asks pathetically. “Via the walkies?”
“When necessary...yes,” Hopper confirms. “We’ll have to be scarce about it. Selective. Nowhere is safe. It’ll have to be reserved for vital communication only.”
Eddie frowned, but nodded in understanding. Robin was currently biting her palm, consumed with dread and sickening anxiety. Leaving you behind? The kids? Even Murray, who everyone had come to appreciate in their own weird sort of way — mostly because of how much they all loved you. He was an extension of you. The whole situation just felt…fucked.
But wasn’t everything fucked? Wasn’t this entire world so catostrophically fucked in every single which way, seemingly irreparable?
Was there actually an end to this nightmare? A world in which the upside down would cease to exist…monsters would go back to their storybooks and dark, twisted fairy tales…the moon would only ever symbolize light within forgotten darkness...and the sun would never hide behind the ashy debris that currently clung to the air, just outside their windows?
Despite how everything looked grim, with seemingly no end in sight…you all persisted in choosing to believe. Yes. Yes, this was going to end.
The end of the world was nearing. It was inevitable.
But it wouldn’t be your world.
***
You never really put much thought into what having a family would feel like one day.
You’d wondered. Every little girl does. In young girlhood, there’s the beauty of innocence that protectively surrounds all grown-up dreams that fuel your wildest imagination. The dreams of never having to go to school, and being in charge of everything you want. The dreams of being able to eat whatever you want, whenever you want. The dreams of meeting your future husband, and getting to wear a big white, sparkly ballgown as you walk down the aisle to your happily ever after. The dreams of being a princess in a big castle, ruling the land and having cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and tea parties everyday with your friends.
Sure, you’d had those dreams as a little girl. How could you not? It was inevitable.
But as you grew older, you didn’t really have a chance to fantasize about much. You’d been made to grow up from a very young age. Your grandmother had been there for you enough. She kept a roof over your head. Food on the table. A very generous allowance, even though you never asked for one and you’d gotten yourself a job by the age of 13 painting peoples’ houses and doing yard work. You’d even gotten hired by your uncle to do data entry for him, along with a couple of his contacts who did intense investigative research and needed someone to work remotely. You earned your own living, and you did upkeep on your grandmother’s house — despite her never asking you to do so. She was gone a lot. She wasn’t very old. Just a smoker who liked casinos and taking trips with her “friend” from time to time. A woman, who she only ever referred to as her "assistant." You knew better than to believe that, but you never said anything about it. She was a closeted lesbian — which is why Robin coming out of the closet for you had been the easiest news to take, let alone support. Your grandmother was a tough, long-acrylic-nails-donning boss bitch who did whatever the hell she wanted. You’d gone with her many times to some casino resorts, mostly staying in the hotel room or just walking around the city. It felt like living with a Mafia Mobwife. It was cool, for the most part. But it definitely meant being able to hold your own. She’d raised herself when she was a kid — and in most ways, you did too.
It’s why you’d spent so much time with your uncle, who didn’t live very far. He was home a lot. Given his line of work, he didn’t go out much. He became even more of a hermit as the years went on, and you liked that. It meant consistency. His spare room basically became your room. It couldn’t exactly be considered a “guest room” when he never had guests over. You’re the only person he invited over for company, and he loved it. The two of you got along effortlessly. His dark humor rubbed off on you early on, which your grandmother shared in but she wasn’t nearly as quick-witted as Murray. That’s where you got it from. But your dry, snarky wit was much more selectively timed than his. He was all over the place. You had solid social cues, given that you went to school and were around people often. Your uncle was definitely an oddball. But you loved him to death, and you got him better than anyone else did.
You weren’t babied. You weren’t coddled, or sheltered, or given false hope about the world. It’s why you held your own, and it’s also why you never victimized yourself. It was to a fault, but you believed it was for the best.
So when Clark broke your heart into a million pieces, you told yourself it had been a risk from the start. A gamble, just like the poker tables at those casinos that your grandmother frequented all the time. Love was a dangerous game, and it spared no one. There were winners and losers — and you’d lost this one.
But right now, in this moment, you felt as though you had just won every single jackpot that there was to win.
Because right now, you were sitting in Steve’s lap on the floor of Max’s room in his big house, holding cards closely to your chest as Lucas screeched GO FISH at Dustin. Steve’s hand was in plain sight, and if you were a cheater you’d have him beat in seconds. But you didn’t need to win a stupid card game…because you had won the greatest game of all: life.
El and Mike were cuddled up close to each other, giggling and being young teens in love. In a normal world, you would assume it to be puppy love between them. But this world wasn’t normal, and the shit that they’d been through together wasn’t any different than what you and Steve had been through together. It was real love, and you let them be that way.
Lucas was seated next to Max in her bed, holding her hand and laughing like a kid again. Dustin was hoarding all of the candy from his backpack (so much for sharing) and laughing like a buffoon. He bickered with Steve and the kids as usual, but something about it was just so…bright. Hearty laughter bounced off the walls, and there were so many times that Steve had belly laughed — along with you and the other kids — that you’d all lost count.
Sometimes, you swore that you saw Max’s lips twitch. As if she could hear you all in her coma, wanting to laugh along with everybody. Lucas would talk to her as if she could hear you all just fine, squeezing her hand and kissing her forehead while showing her his hand in cards. Dustin even gave her a sleeve of her favorite candy — just for her. He might not have basic manners with the rest of you, but Max? Always.
Will was keeping score, seated next to you and Steve with the biggest smile you had ever seen him wear. He laughed hysterically the entire night, even going as far as verbally expressing adoration for you and Steve. Dustin would pretend to gag, but Will would just tell him he knew better than to think that the curly-haired smart alec wasn’t completely in love with the two of you being together. Dustin had grinned all dopey and wide, rolling his eyes but not arguing with him any further.
At some point, Mike suggested all swapping ghost stories.
Lucas had barked the loudest laugh. “How about the one we’re currently living??”
“Hey, hey,” Steve interjected. “I got a better idea. Tell your most embarrassing story. One you’re scared shitless to tell.”
You'd grinned in his arms, snickering. “Oh I got plenty of those.”
“I mean hey,” Dustin shrugged with a mouthful of candy. “If we’re gonna die, we might as well get real.”
“Okay chill, we’re not going to die,” Steve scoffed, hiding his internal worry.
“It’s possible,” Mike shrugged, grabbing another bag of M&M’s.
Steve huffed. “Dammit, Wheeler —”
Mike’s devilish grin was infuriating yet endearing at the same time.
“I wish Max could hear all of this,” El said with a tinkering laugh.
You gave her the warmest of smiles and a wink. “Trust me. She does.”
“Hell yeah,” Lucas smiled wide, squeezing Max’s hand. “I’ll even tell one of her stories, for her.”
“...dude, she’s gonna kill you,” Dustin warned him, but there was a smirk lifting at the corner of his lips.
“I’ll go first,” Will announced, laying on his stomach as he ate some popcorn. “One time? I was asleep in bed but I woke up because I heard Jonathan moaning so loudly — like, disturbingly loud —”
“Okay, maybe I needed to lay down some ground rules here —” Steve starts with a very tight voice as you snorted into your palm.
“Just hear me out,” Will laughs, holding a hand. “I thought it was with a girl —”
“William,” Steve scolded.
“But he was in the bathroom,” Will talked over him. “Shitting his brains out.”
Dustin cackled while Mike audibly expressed disgust while laughing at the same time. El looked shocked, giggling hysterically into her hand.
“Damn, that bad?!” Lucas roared.
“He lit every candle in the house,” Will cackled. “Mom went to use it shortly after him and came barreling into our rooms to ask us in a panic what had died up one of our butts!”
Steve collapsed into you laughing, and you couldn’t even breathe from laughing so hard. It was that sort of deep laughter that’s so painful because it’s quiet before you’re able to finally erupt with loud laughs that help you come down from a high. All the kids were a fit of cackles and giggles, too. Erica made her way into the room finally, jumping right into things and bringing cookies with milk. All of you exchanged stories, allowing yourselves to only cry tears of joy. It was exactly what you all needed, long overdue.
And for the first time in ages — none of you thought about the upside down, or the impending doom that awaited you just outside of the Harrington house throughout all of Hawkins.
That night, you and Steve tucked every single of your kids into their assigned sleeping bags and cots. Lucas stayed with Max in her bed, asking you sheepishly if that was alright. You’d nodded, along with Steve — more than approving. And given you both would be chaperoning that night in the same shared room, you also let Mike and El cuddle up together in a sleeping bag.
“Hands outside of the covers, Wheeler,” Steve warned him, but he gave him a wink — adding please at the end. Even Mike gave him a smile and nod, like a little kid who felt called out but also didn’t have any intention of disobeying.
Dustin and Will joked in high pitched voices about being bunkmates with their sleeping bags next to each other, given they were the two singles of the group. Technically, Erica was too. But even if she wasn’t, she would still demand her own space. She had situated herself on the floor beside Lucas’s side of the bed, not planning to give him a hard time for a good while given what was in store for everyone tomorrow.
As for you and Steve — the two of you had stationed yourselves in the center of the room, closest to the door. That way, you could see all your kids at any point during the night and also be the first to fight off any harm coming your way, should danger lurk on the other side of the locked bedroom door.
Steve ruffled Dustin’s hair as he dozed off, earning a sleepy little “hmph” from him. After he made sure all of them were comfortably settled in for the night, he crawled over to you. His nail bat was propped somewhere nearby — ready to be swung into action if need be. But the need for it that night never came.
You curled into Steve’s chest, breathing in his clean, masculine scent and allowing it to fill all of your senses. Sighing contentedly, you felt a rush of warmth wash over you as his lips pressed into the top of your head.
“I love you so much,” he whispered.
“I love you more,” you murmured in the softest of whispers.
You felt him chuckle against you. “Impossible,” he breathed into your hair, pulling you so close to him you might as well be the same body.
And had you not been so completely relaxed in his arms, you might have fought him on it. The whole "I love you more" thing. In fact you definitely would have. But you just hummed, dozing off in his strong arms and allowing sleep to find you.
***
Waking up had been beautiful. The sun was even more hidden than usual, plagued by the new world coming into fruition. But despite the lack of sunshine outdoors, you felt as though it shone through the entire room as all the kids woke up and whispered to each other. You pretended not to hear them when they talked about you and Steve. Because if you were being honest? You’d been dying to hear their uncensored thoughts. If they thought that you weren’t listening, they wouldn’t hold back from saying what was actually on their mind.
Turns out? All of them wanted this. The two of you together. They laughed about how some of them thought that Steve was going to end up with Robin at first.
“No way,” Lucas shook his head in a confident whisper. “Those two? They’re like brother and sister.”
“Yeah, but Bauman’s so out of his league,” Mike whispered back.
“She is not,” Will added in a defensive whisper.
“She so is,” Mike whispered indignantly.
“No way, Steve’s awesome,” Dustin defended in a whisper.
“Yeah but like,” Mike whispered, pondering with a sigh. “I mean yeah. He is. I like him. He’s cool. Way cooler than I thought he was at first. But Bauman’s literally a badass. She doesn't care what people think.”
“Steve doesn’t care anymore,” Erica chimes in, speaking softly. She’s actually pleading Steve’s case and it’s adorable. “He used to. But when we were down there with the Russians? And he had to wear that stupid sailor outfit for work?…”
“Oh my god,” Dustin snickered. “That shit was so funny.”
“He looked like Shirley Temple from the Good Ship Lollipop,” Lucas snickered back, and Will had to shush them so that they wouldn’t wake you up.
“My point is,” Erica continued with sass. “Steve doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks of him now. I mean…he gave her hell the whole time I was around ‘em.”
“I still don’t get that,” Mike whispered.
“Me either,” El added quietly.
“What do you mean?” Dustin whispered in confusion. “I told you guys the whole story. That once upon a time ramble I had to sit through when Murray basically went on to give us an entire rundown on the two of them?”
“Well duh,” Mike whispered in annoyance. “I know that. But dude…she’s…like, she's...”
“Hot.”
Everyone went quiet, and you stiffened as you held back laughter. Because the person who had called you hot? It was El.
“Bauman is hot,” El repeated.
Eventually someone snorted. Then, they all did. You bit back laughter, blushing into Steve’s chest with your face kept hidden.
“You’re hot,” Mike added to her in a coy whisper.
“No, you are,” she whispered back sweetly.
“Enough,” Erica whispered definitively.
“Max thinks that Steve is hot,” Lucas scoffed.
“He is,” Erica and El said at the same time.
“Hey,” Mike whined, and they all shushed him.
“Face it, dude,” Dustin whispered flatly. “He is. I wish I looked like him.”
“You look great, man,” Will assured him. “You got a girl like Suzy. You gotta be a stud to catch someone like her.”
Dustin had blushed at that with a wide, dopey grin. “Think so?”
After listening to them chat some more, eventually Steve started to stir. He’d told them good morning, to which Dustin all too happily responded with a very loud good morning back —- making Steve audibly groan and bite back curse words. The kids all snickered.
Will started handing out drawings out to everyone. You all had been sketching and drawing together in your assigned room earlier the day before, while Steve had been getting Max’s room ready. Will had told you all to draw a picture of someone else in the party. He’d even chosen who was drawing who.
Will and Lucas drew each other.
Mike and Erica drew each other.
El and Dustin drew each other.
And you drew Steve, before he joined you all and eventually drew his original art piece of you while you all played a round of the Game of Life.
Here you were now: holding your drawing close to your chest, and wiggling your eyebrows at Steve. He gave you the most adorable smirk, his cocoa brown eyes still a bit sleepy and his perfect hair the sexiest case of bed head. He stretched, toned arms flexing and his white t-shirt clinging to his muscles in all the right places while being loose enough to wanna rip it off of him…
Not the time, Bauman, you mentally scolded yourself.
Steve had reached underneath his pillow to fetch his drawing of you, holding it to his chest and sitting across from you — crossed-legged and shooting you a wink. All the kids mirrored you both, sitting opposite their assigned art piece subject with throaty giggles and snorts.
Will looked at everyone excitedly, like a proud art professor, ready for his classroom to partake in show-and-tell.
“Alright,” he smiled. “Everyone ready?”
“Yeah, you go first, Byers,” Steve nodded at him with an encouraging grin.
Will blushed. “Oh…well…I mean…I should go last. You guys first. On the count of 3, everyone turn your photos around to your partner.”
Mike snorted as he stared down Erica. “Howdy, partner,” he drawled in a fake accent. El giggled, and so did Lucas.
Erica shot Mike a wry smirk. “Easy now, cowboy.”
“Bet you made me look like a total loser,” Mike snickered.
“I don’t have to draw you to make you look like that,” Eric’s said in the most sugary sweet, sarcastic voice.
“Okay snarkbutts, settle down,” Steve scolded lightly in a groggy voice, no heat behind it. “Will has the floor. William: proceed.”
Will saluted him. “Alright. Count of 3.”
“Please tell me you gave me teeth,” Dustin mumbled lowly to El.
“One…”
El shrugged. “I dunno.”
Dustin narrowed his eyes.
“Two…”
Steve gave you a coy look, asking in the lowest of mumbles, “How big’s my hair?”
You grinned like a devil, your voice lower. “Not as big as your other best trait.”
Steve lifted a very cocky eyebrow with a deepening grin.
“Three!”
Everyone turned their papers around, and a soft silence fell over you all minus a few little reactive intakes of breath.
Dustin had drawn El with a million eggo waffles in the sky around her. She looked like the most adorable cartoon character, with anime eyes and full cheeks. Her hair was shorter, the way she’d looked back in ‘83 whenever she’d returned. But it wasn’t slicked back. It was free, curly and a little wild. Her smile was innocent and childlike, and there was a policeman in the back waving. Hopper.
El had drawn Dustin with his signature cap and his big toothy grin — which made him beam, because she did give him teeth in the drawing after all. And in this drawing, there were bubble boxes above him that read all the quotes she associated with him, like Steve! and She’s our friend and she’s crazy! and Shit shit shit shit shit!
Mike had drawn Erica into a comic strip. He showed her as just a wee tike, then at Scoops Ahoy with an ice cream cone, then playing DND. The last image of the strip showed her with her arms crossed and a triumphant smile, with a banner behind her that read Welcome to the Party. (…as Erica looked at it, she felt the most unfamiliar warmth seep into her bones and the joyful sting behind her eyes sent her into pure shock.)
Erica had drawn Mike on his bike, riding through the neighbor with his backpack and a flashlight. His dark hair blew in the wind, and there was a thought bubble above him with little heads that resembled all of his best friends. Above him and the thought was a quote: “Mike Wheeler: nerd, snark machine and superhero to all.” (…Mike felt so emo, he didn’t know what to do with it.)
You had drawn Steve in a very chic sort of hot anime-like way. It honestly looked like an actual character that existed in an anime universe. In the drawing, Steve held his nail bat in one hand and a McDonald’s happy meal in the other. He didn’t quite understand that part at first — until he spotted behind him, there was a Winnebago. Six familiar faces, very stick-figure-esque, stood there waving. You also stood there, with a quote above your head: “six-piece nuggets, coming right up.” Steve breathed the fondest of chuckles as he took it all in, wanting to laugh and smile and cry and tackle you with his kids all at the same time.
Steve’s drawing of you was more adorable than you ever thought him capable of drawing. You were the cutest little cartoon, backpack over your shoulder with combat boots — but you were wearing the most beautiful dress. It was yellow, which complimented the happy blue sky behind you. Yours and Steve's favorite colors combined. There was a big house behind you, with seven other stick figures that looked an awful lot like Steve and your six nuggets. And right next to you, there was a dictionary-esque definition of you:
BAUMAN (Pronounced bow•men)
A professional love-life ruiner; cute but psycho; hardcore but soft; too smart for her own good; humor darker than the dark espresso she drinks straight, because she’s a sociopath; also hotter than said cup of coffee; terrifyingly beautiful from the inside out; my mortal enemy turned favorite person; the girl who makes everything make sense; someone I can’t fathom living without, and can’t believe I ever thought I could; the love of my life, in this one and the next and so on, so long as she’ll have me.
You had never felt so full in your entire life, and neither had Steve. The two of you just stared at each other’s drawings. Grinning, glassy-eyed, chuckling, aching, filled with every ounce of joy and every ounce dread — all at once. Neither of you could speak, but neither of you had to. Your eyes, along with his, spoke volumes. They said everything there was to say, just as much as your sketches did.
Lucas had drawn Will in a wizard’s outfit. He held a tall, majestic scepter — with a large hat on top of his head. Surrounding him was a large swirl of colors, whimsical and light, painting a galaxy of sorts. And in this galaxy, there were little floating stick figures with all his friends’ names above them. Will was smiling in the drawing, with his hands in the air and on top of the world. Literally, because in the picture he was standing on top of a globe.
As for Will...he had drawn Lucas at a basketball game. He was scoring the winning basket, and an entire crowd cheered behind him. All of you were there. Will was there, next to all his friends. You and Steve were next to each other, along with his mom, Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle, Eddie, Robin and Hopper. Even your Uncle Murray.
And Max…that’s where Will’s drawing got unique.
She was piggybacking Lucas, as he jumped and shot the winning score of the game, her laugh radiating through all the pens and crayons and markers that Will had used to sketch her. She was alive, as were the rest of you. Very much alive.
Just as you all were right now, inside one of Steve Harrington’s many bedrooms in his big house with no parents.
No matter what doom was swiftly approaching — no matter what monsters were looming underneath the surface, and already roaming the real world — you all were together. You had each other.
You always will.
***
Late morning upstairs has been kind to you. It's been light. Hopeful.
There’s something about walking downstairs that makes the energy shift. It sends an odd sort of chill up your spine, despite Steve’s arm draped securely over your shoulders as you wear one of his large gray hoodies with your bad arm in a sling. You feel a certain pang in your chest as the kids follow you all down into the kitchen…but this time, it’s not because of your heart arrhythmia.
As Hopper and Joyce smile at you all in the kitchen, greeting you warmly and having prepared a table full of pancakes that had smiley faces decorated with whipped cream and chocolate chips and strawberries on top — something about the scene frowns at you. A deep frown that you’ve seen on everyone’s faces whenever there is bad news waiting to be shared.
Your uncle is coming over to hand you a hot cup of decaf coffee, winking at you and Steve as he gives him a tight shoulder squeeze. He’s moving past you both towards the man named Dimitri, who is walking in from the living room. Murray brings him over to introduce you.
“Dimitri, this is my niece,” Murray grins.
You shake his hand firmly with your good arm, smiling gratefully. “Heard a lot about you.”
“You as well,” the man says with a genuine smile, kind vibrant eyes and a thick Russian accent. He’s definitely seen some shit.
“And this is Steve,” Murray gestures, a bit of a coy glint in his eye. “Her boyfriend.”
Steve blushes, a soft smile gracing his features and shining through his eyes. He wholeheartedly adores being called that out loud for the very first time: your boyfriend.
Your uneven heart skips several more beats, which typically would raise a lot of concern — but at the moment, you’re too fucking happy to care or pay it any mind. You watch Steve flash his signature charming smile and reach out to firmly shake hands with Dimitri, who is looking back at your handsome boy with the widest grin. The masculine exchange of lighthearted friendly words between the two men makes your stomach dance for some reason, especially as your uncle chuckles along with them.
This is completely uncharted territory for you. Nothing about this moment is familiar. But you could really get used to it. It’s new. And you adore it.
Dimitri meets the kids, who all take to him very well. Especially El, who seems to already be familiar with him. Likely because of Hopper. Jonathan and Argyle are being introduced to him by Joyce, while Eddie is rounding the corner with a big stretch and yawn. Steve shoots him a smirk as the metalhead makes his way over for a big ole bro hug, whispering something to him that makes Steve snort while Eddie grins like a devil. Steve swats at him playfully, successfully smacking him as Robin walks in with Nancy close behind. Steve’s quirky platonic soulmate makes her way over to you with a warm smile, swinging an arm over your shoulders so that she’s nearly headlocking you in a hug. She’s a bit taller than you, by just a couple inches, so it gives her some upper hand. You’re chuckling lightly, nose scrunched and tightly winding your good arm around Robin’s waist as you smile back at Nancy. Her eyes are still sad, a bit lost. But there’s no animosity there, at least not that you see. She looks at you shyly, timidly…but with utter kindness.
Unbeknownst to you — Robin had suggested to Nancy that she stay with her last night in Steve’s room. For Nancy, that had been…hard. Necessary, but hard. For multiple reasons. For one thing — the last time she’d slept in Steve’s room, she had been his girlfriend. Being asleep in there 2 years later without him, now as his ex, brought back a flood of memories — bittersweet and haunting. Being in his bed, twisted up in his sheets, felt wrong. But she just couldn’t bring herself to sleep next to Jonathan that night. Not yet. Not after everything that had unfolded. So Robin had stayed up talking with her, having a heavy heart to heart. But it turned out to be exactly what Nancy needed. Just what the doctor ordered. Robin Buckley had unintentionally become a nurse of sorts over the last several months, and maybe even somewhat of a therapist. Although — Argyle sort of had her beat in that department earlier that afternoon. But he was the much simpler kind. Whereas Robin got deep, given her innate gift at rambling until you were given no choice but to cut her off because your most honest thoughts were yanked out of you as you were made to listen to her ranting. Nancy had cried some more, but she’d also laughed. A comforting mixture of both smiles and frowns were shared between the two unlikely friends. Robin wasn’t Barb, nor would any other girl be that kind of friend to Nancy. Robin was very different from Barb. However, her heart was just as loving. She loved hard, and it showed. She let Nancy pour her heart out, pouring some of her own out in return. And somehow…somehow…it brought Nancy some newfound peace and understanding.
So as she looked at you now, having seen you come downstairs with Steve and the kids — now introducing yourselves to the new Russian house guest, and sharing a special connection with Eddie and Robin in a way that only settled couples so effortlessly did — Nancy could see something in the two of you that she’d not known Steve capable of being while she in a relationship with him. And while she selfishly ached for her younger self who’d missed out on having that with him (and sometimes still found herself pining after), she selflessly began to feel happy for Steve. And she even began to feel some happiness for you. Not completely. Not yet. She couldn’t quite commit to making full peace with it all, given that healing takes time. A very long time. But as time continued to pass, which Nancy hoped you all would still be granted given the circumstances of the crumbling world, she knew that she would eventually get there.
Murray and Dimitri were saying something funny, making Hopper and Joyce share a hearty laugh with the two of them while the kids were asking the new gentleman a million questions. Steve made his way over to you and Robin, hugging you both — and Eddie threw his arms around all of you, resulting in fond groans and grunts from you all along with big smiles.
Nancy and Jonathan made unintentional eye contact as this happened, but Dustin shouting GROUP HUG! snapped their focus away again. The boys all bear hugged you guys while El and Erica were already pouring syrup onto their pancakes.
Eventually, you all sat down to enjoy a feast. And while it tasted so deliciously sweet…the bitter aftertaste stemmed from looming doom that creeped just beneath the surface of your feet. The energy shift was still felt, and despite the warmth of homemade pancakes and Steve’s hand on your thigh…your blood ran cold.
***
It was the early afternoon that finally unveiled the darker energy shift you had all been sensing since that morning, after you left the comforting quarters of your little family sleepover.
Everyone was now seated in the living room now — the way you always were, when it was time for you all to have a group meeting and listen to Hopper go over a plan of sorts or give a rundown to the household. Except this time, Dimitri was here along with Dr. Owens. It wasn’t like all the other times. This was different. Very different.
This one scared you.
Maybe they all should’ve. All these talks that centered around the end of the world. All these household meetings about the impending doom that came with said end-of-the-world. But somehow, you’d grown accustomed to them. Comfortable. It meant you were all still alive and that you all had something worth fighting for. And it had always meant there would be another meeting.
But there was an unsettling sort of feeling of finality to this meeting that set it apart from all the others. And as Hopper stood with both Joyce and your uncle Murray…you felt goosebumps scatter up and down your arms and legs, regardless of Steve’s warm oversized hoodie and your leggings and socks. Their faces were somber, a bit grim. Murray kept his arms tightly crossed while Joyce fiddled nervously with her hands. Even Hopper, ever the strong and firm type, looked nervous. Maybe even afraid.
They spoke all slowly, taking their time with why everyone was there — why Dimitri was now in the picture along with Dr. Owens — and what all needed to be discussed. And the longer they spoke, the thicker the air got. Tension spread around the room. It was especially evident as none of the kids were making a sound. They hadn’t uttered a single word. Not one of them. The adults had the floor, and when they asked Dimitri to stand with them, you all knew this was going to go in a bad direction.
So when they all told you the plan, looping Dr. Owens into the picture and why he not only was here for this talk — but here to stay — the gravity of the current situation landed.
You all felt your souls plummet to the deepest depths of your stomachs with a hard thud, as Hopper revealed two large whiteboards. They both had entirely different detailed layouts…and beside each one, there were two separate lists of names.
One list of names would be at the frontlines. The people who would be diving head first into the upside down and all of its perils.
One list of names would be hiding out here. The people who would maintain home base, helping operate things from the other side in the real world, while risking the chance of being found, caught and killed.
Both sides were at risk. Both teams could die. Both groups might not ever live to see another day, or each other, ever again.
As Steve stares at your name, along with the names of all of his kids aside from El, on the opposite whiteboard from his own name…he feels bile rising in his throat. His stomach twists into knots, deeply tangled with unbearable anxiety and anguish. His mind races, but his lips don’t move. Fear paralyzes him, rendering him speechless as the adults keep talking and gesturing to the boards. The castle on a cloud that his dreams have just began to build for the two of you, walls high and protecting you both along with his kids — his family — was drifting away from him. And all he could do was watch it drifting further and further away, into the void, as he stared into space.
You felt his grasp on you instinctively tighten as his muscles stiffened. Steve was rigid against your back, and you were grateful that he couldn’t see your face right now. You were sitting between his legs on the longest part of his couch, facing the same direction as you took in the whiteboards while absorbing all the information that was being relayed to the group. With a harsh swallow, you risked peeking at everyone else’s reactions — quickly scanning the room with your eyes.
Mike’s usually sour expression looked far more sad than it usually did. He only ever looked like that when El was in danger, or things were spiraling out of control. He sat on top of the coffee table with his elbows in his lap, crouched forward and staring a hole into one of the whiteboards. Dustin’s mouth was agape, and his unusual silence was loud. He hadn’t said a word from where he sat on the couch next to Erica. Will sat on the other side of Jonathan, brow furrowed and heart blue. He knew the risks being taken, and it hurt his soul seeing that he would be apart from his mom and brother. He felt as though he always had been, ever since this all began, and it seemed to be a never ending circumstance. Lucas was taking it all in from his seat on the leg of the couch, hands wrung and expression reserved — but defeated. He’d really grown into a young man this past year, and he’d been taking so much in stride. But even so, he looked conflicted. Really conflicted.
After taking in the kids’ reactions, your eyes swept over to Robin and Eddie. She was seated in the giant loveseat, per usual, with Eddie perched on the arm of it. You narrowed your eyes as you caught sight of Robin fiddling her thumbs, eyes darting up and down from her fingers to the adults with the whiteboards. Eddie was bouncing his knee anxiously, nibbling at his fingernails — which were already bitten to stubs. While the two of them looked to be taking this hard, the way that the rest of you were…they also seemed to be absorbing it a bit differently. As if maybe they had a hunch about it already…
It wasn’t until Erica stood up to sit by Lucas with zero prompt that you felt slightly suspicious. Because as she did, Robin shot a very quick tight-lipped smile in Erica’s direction with eyes that radiated sympathy. Did they know this was coming? Is that why Erica had come upstairs with the cookies and milk later than the rest of the kids?
You sighed through your nose, focusing back on Hopper as he gestured for Dr. Owens to stand up with them. The older man made his way to the center of the tense room, hands dug deeply into his pockets and wearing a very sympathetic smile.
“I’m really grateful you all have put a lot of faith in me, despite everything,” he said humbly. “Truthfully, it’s not owed. I know that. Still…I promise you’re in good hands with me. Not those guys out there. Hence why I’m here. And I know you’d have already figured out by now if I was still working for that side of things. Between El and Will, and all of you crazy smart folks, I’m outnumbered.”
He added a light chuckle at the end that nobody returned. Dr. Owens sighed, taking no offense. He knew this was not going to be taken well.
“I’m in this fight with you,” he said, stronger than how he spoke before. There was conviction in his tone that he never really used, and it only heightened just how severe things currently were. “If it were up to me? None of you would be out there. I’d be out there on the frontlines. But…given Max’s comatose state, and Bauman’s heart condition, I know I’m needed here. Which is just as big a risk that’s being taken out on the battlefield, because we’re staying in Hawkins as the evacuation notice and mandate goes into effect. The city will be swarmed with government officials who are all behind this. We’ll be surrounded from all angles. No one is safe.”
You’re pretty sure that Steve had stopped breathing at this point, and the veins that prominently stuck out from his arms tightly wound around you made your throat close up.
“I’ll be here to monitor Max, along with Bauman. I’ve got plenty of medication to help steady the heart arrhythmia, and anything vital needed for a medical emergency — on anyone’s behalf, not just Bauman’s and Mayfield’s.”
“But…what happens if…”
A tight voice made everyone’s heads whip in its direction. It was Dustin speaking, eyes wide with fear. He wasn't being his usual cocky, overly confident self. He looked and sounded genuinely fearful.
“…what happens if we’re caught? What do we do? Where do we go?”
Murray sighs, stepping forward. “We’ve thought about that. Right now, there’s only 2 options. But they’re solid. The best we’ve got right now. One more than the other. See, look —”
Murray went into detail about an abort-mission plan, but it sounded distorted in your ears as the gravity of the situation weighed down on top of your shoulders: you were all splitting up. And this time might be the last time.
At some point, Mike had started to finally come to life. His snark was returning, but even he wavered and the fear in his voice wasn’t concealed. Hopper and El had to level with him, which only flustered Mike and caused him to stutter. They had him beat, and he knew it. He wanted to storm off, but Erica had told him to sit his ass down and listen. It was so unexpected that he did as she said. But your own brain was playing it all in slow motion. As Will began asking questions with Dustin, you could see how Lucas had looked like he wanted to ask Erica if she might have already known something — but he didn’t. Dr. Owens was saying something about Will being tied to the other side of things and being the assigned “El” of their group opposite of her, which fired up Mike as he demanded to know why the hell that required him to be out of the group heading to the frontlines alongside his girlfriend. Before Hopper could even respond, Eddie was jumping into action along with Jonathan — coming to the retired cop’s defense. That only bewildered Mike more, which fueled Dustin’s confusion into high gear as he made arguments alongside Mike. Lucas had thrown his voice into the mix, but when Erica’s was louder — telling them all to listen, for the love of god listen, and Lucas stared at her in silent bemusement. Will was weakly pleading with them all to please calm down, along with Joyce, who shot Argyle (of all people) a desperate look, and he made his way over to sit down next to Will and tell him it was going to be alright.
“NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS ALRIGHT,” Mike cried, angry and sad and scared in the way a child made to grow up too soon has every right to be.
“Mike, please,” Nancy’s voice trembled, her blue eyes glassy.
“Nancy, this isn’t okay!!!” Mike wailed.
“M-Mike,” Nancy stammered, her own emotions giving her a shake she couldn’t stop. “Just l-listen to me…”
“No, you never listen to me!!!” Mike bawled. “Never!!!”
“Hey hey, Wheeler, hey.”
Steve finally found his voice as he reluctantly made his way to stand up away from you and approach his kid that was having an absolute breakdown. Mike was still wailing, but as Steve approached with an unwavering look in his eye — baby Wheeler allowed for the group's assigned babysitter to actually place his hands on his shoulders and try to level with him. Mike’s face crumbled, his words not making any sense the more he stumbled over them. All that could be made out was something he was trying to say towards El — something about why and how could you and tell them I’m coming — which made Steve get a firm grip on his shoulders as he told him not to blame her for this. After all, Steve had all the experience in the world as far as wrongfully placing blame on someone else was concerned…and it made your entire body ache as you watched him soothe Mike, who just bawled and mumbled nonsense in his hold.
El began to cry, too, leaning into Hopper — whose bottom lip trembled. He bit down on it hard and willed it to stop, his eyes overwhelmed with everything that was unraveling before his eyes.
Dustin was going back and forth with Erica, but he sounded so pitiful it made your uneven heart crack. He kept looking over at Steve, begging him to understand. Please Steve, please, let me go with you. Eddie moved to immediately hold him, crushing him in more of a death grip than a hug. The metalhead mumbled into his curly hair — not this time, kiddo, not this time. Robin had a hand clamped over her mouth, emotions taking over as she barely managed to bite them back.
You stood up instantly, moving to hold Buckley. She didn’t hesitate to make room for you on the seat, letting you take her in your arms as she shook like a leaf. You gently swayed her side to side with you, murmuring quiet little words that were meant to be comforting — knowing they weren’t, but offering them anyway.
Your eyes met Jonathan’s across the room as he swayed with Will as well. His pupils were blown, consumed with dread and drowning in pure misery, and you knew that yours weren’t much different.
Mike had buried his face into Steve’s chest at this point, and it made Nancy cry into her own palms as she curled in on herself.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered, voice cracking at the end. She looked at Hopper and your uncle, eyes guilty and full of shame. “I - I’m sorry.”
Before you could even process what just happened, Nancy was barreling up the stairs. Jonathan watched her go, panicking. He looked at Will, then at you — eyes pleading. You didn’t even let a second pass before you’d squeezed Robin to signal her, standing up to bring her over to where Will was seated. You took Jonathan’s place as he went after Nancy, holding him tight as Robin leaned against you on your opposite side. Argyle kept a kind hand on Will’s shoulder, still sitting to the other of him.
“Steve, please, you die I die, remember?”
Dustin’s whimpered words had to have been the saddest plea you’d ever heard in your life. Steve almost broke but before he could he flung an arm to sweep Dustin into his hold, as baby Wheeler kept bawling into his chest. He held them both steady, letting them fall apart in his protective arms and doing everything in his power not to break down with them. He couldn’t. If he did, he’d failed them. But to Steve’s dismay…he did anyway. He ducked his head down, shaking against the two of his kids, letting himself silently weep with them. For them.
Lucas looked utterly heartbroken, which Erica noticed. The youngest Sinclair cast aside all her pride, looking at her older brother with the most sympathy and love she could have towards anyone in this world, and she threw her arms around him. He only let it shock him for a second before he held her back, a grateful silence falling over them both.
You felt tears of your own begin to brim your eyes, but before letting them fall you looked up towards the adults…seeing your uncle first. Murray looked back at you with every ounce of empathy and solace that could be found inside his dark soul.
You gave him a soft nod, silently communicating with him. I understand. I’m sorry you had to deliver this news, but I’m here and I understand.
And he returned the soft nod, lips pressed into a thin line but communicating back through eye contact and body language. I love you and I hate this. But I’ve got you.
Dimitri stood next to him, eyes somber and downcast. He was new to the picture, but having seen the other side of things and just how bad a toll this has clearly taken on you all — he mourned for everyone’s pain.
Dr. Owens had to sit down, unable to speak and wringing his hands.
Hopper and Joyce held each other, along with El. They looked at each other, devastated but steadfast.
This plan was not open for discussion.
This plan was not open for debate.
This plan was final.
And so you let the tears crawl over the edges of your eyes, feeling them skate down your cheeks as you clung to Will and Robin and felt the world sit on top of your shoulders.
***
--
so as you can see, shit's getting intense. the gut-wrenching angst approaching has me overwhelmed but I'm so sickeningly happy about it. suffice it to say, Steve & Bauman are my Roman Empire and they are endgame. so if that gives you any sort of hope, given the inevitable doom that is in store for them and everyone else involved...then yay.
<3 this story forever lives on. forever and ever amen.
- misha
TAGLIST (ILYSM)
If I forgot you or you wanna be added, lmk :)
@aloneinthehellfire @xprloki @erastourvip @get0ut0fmyr00m @Eddiemuns0nl0ver @marrowfrog00 @poppet05 @wiltedflowersundertowers Originalthingparadise Pleuviors pumpkinonice Ihaveproblemsihaveproblems Brinleighsstuff Definitelynotherr sucker-4-angst bookkeeperlove notlilyyyy @goosy-goose nevillescomslut
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington angst#mishas masterlists#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington stranger things#steve harrington smut#joe keery#oh so we do love steve#steve and bauman#murray bauman#jopper#jim hopper#jonathan byers#stancy#sorry stancy
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Guilty pleasures: Chapter 7**
pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
summary: following Joel's fallout with Ellie, he distances himself from both her and you. But when you find him drowning his sorrows in alcohol, you ask about his history with Ellie, taking the evening to another peak in your relationship.
word count: 5k
WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol; oral (m & f receiving), unprotected piv, cowgirl, Joel gets reassured & kissed a lot.
AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!!!
gif: @loregifs
series masterlist | AO3
NOVEMBER
The weather wasn’t the only thing getting colder. So was the relationship between you, Joel and Ellie.
Joel and Ellie hadn’t spoken a word to each other in over three weeks. And, as you predicted, Joel did distance himself from you as well. While he didn’t ice you out completely, it was evident that he was hurting and was very much still racked with guilt. You gave him his space, though, as much as it was killing you. You remained further apart from him, but the reality was that you missed him.
You missed being near him, holding him, being with him in ways you hadn’t allowed yourself to be with anyone in a very long time. But you were perfectly aware that this was a sensitive time for both him and Ellie, and the last thing on your mind was your own comfort.
But even as you did your best to stay away and not get yourself involved in the middle of all the trouble, Ellie still sought comfort to you.
You suppose she felt drawn to you because of your shared secret and that provided her with some comfort knowing she wasn’t alone in that anymore, but you were surprised to find that she was merely seeking some girl-to-girl talk.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“There’s… someone. Someone I—well, someone nice that I think I might like. We’ve been spending a lot of time together and I think… I’m not sure, but I think things might take a… different turn.”
You nod understandingly, noticing Ellie’s nervousness around the subject.
“Nothing flat out, but she did invite me over tonight,” Ellie clarifies.
“Oh. She. Okay.”
Your face is beaming with excitement as Ellie fusses around, still nervous. When she sees you smile, she relaxes a bit.
“What exactly is it that you want to know?”
“How do you… uh…”
Ellie gulps as she makes a few gestures with her hands, hesitating to go on.
“I’m guessing this would be the first time?” you ask caringly.
Ellie nods.
“I get it. First time can be nerve-wrecking.”
“How was it for you?”
“I was twenty, three years into the outbreak. Long story short, nothing magical or perfect. It rarely is. But if you’re lucky to share this experience with someone you care about, someone you trust, it’s good enough. So my advice is, don’t put pressure on yourself or her or the whole thing. And while I don’t really know the mechanics when it’s two girls, what I do know is that if the moment feels right, you’ll know it.”
“Really?”
“Mhm. It doesn’t matter with whom it’s shared. If the person is right and the moment is right, your body will react naturally. Try to relax, and… your body will follow.”
Ellie takes a deep breath, nodding along as she processes your advice. “Okay. Yeah, I can do that. It’s no big deal, right?”
“It isn’t. But it also kind of is, especially when you’re a teenager. Just—don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. Same goes for her, if she’s uncomfortable, just stop. And if things do happen, don’t forget to have fun. That’s the whole point of it. To be with someone you really care about and who makes you feel safe.”
“Okay. Okay, yeah I think I got it. Thanks.”
“Happy to help.”
“How’s Joel?”
There’s a moment of silence as you think of a way to respond to the question.
“You could ask him,” you eventually reply.
Ellie makes a distrustful sound.
“I know you need some time,” you continue. “But… you might feel better if you talked to him.”
“I don’t know if I can just yet.”
“I’m living proof that he didn’t actually lie to you, Ellie. And in the end… he only did what he knew to protect you.”
“It was still selfish.”
“Maybe it was. Aren’t we all a little selfish in a way? It’s human nature. But like I said, he only did it because he thinks of you as family. And I still wish I was as lucky to have someone think of me that way.”
Ellie inches closer to you, hesitating for a moment before wrapping her arms around you. Surprised, you blink several times, eventually wrapping your arms around her smaller figure too.
“Maybe someone is thinking of you that way,” Ellie coos.
You feel your eyes getting teary so you break the embrace by clearing your throat and looking elsewhere.
“But you can’t really be impartial,” Ellie finishes, adjusting her jacket.
“What do you mean?”
“With me and Joel. Not when you hang out with me and you go to him and you’re…”
You nervously shake your head. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t.”
“I was going to say because you hang out with me and you have feelings for him, but whatever.”
It takes you a good few seconds before you respond, utterly stunned at the statement.
“This is not about—me and Joel.”
“I’m almost seventeen, not stupid.”
You search for words to explain you current situation with Joel, but the truth is, you can’t find any. It’s complicated—and probably something that Ellie shouldn’t really hear about.
“The point was that whenever you’ll be ready to talk to him, I’m sure he will be too,” you say awkwardly. “He’s… not doing so well. From afar, at least. I haven’t…”
“Oh. I thought you guys were spending all your time together now that—“
“No.”
The look on Ellie’s face is almost as if she pities you. Maybe you pity yourself too in some ways, but you’d never tell or show her that. Though you can’t help but feel that since you’ve shared your life story with her she’s given you more of a haul pass when it comes to feelings.
“I don’t understand why you guys don’t just talk,” she says. “It’d be easier than doing this stupid dance around each other with unanswered questions.”
You sigh. “You’re right. He’s not the most talkative person in the world, and I sure as hell ain’t either, but it’s far more exhausting to pretend like…”
“Like you hate each other?”
You meet Ellie’s eyes, her face radiant with a smirk in the corner of her mouth. You shake your head, slightly amused nonetheless, and shyly nod.
“You’re supposed to be the adults and yet here you are, bested by a teenage girl,” Ellie smiles.
No argument there, you think.
“Do let me know how tonight goes, okay?” you tell her.
“Yeah, alright. And uh… you with—“
“Yeah.”
Truth is, you’re not really sure how to initiate this conversation with Joel, or if it’s the right time. He’s in a full spiral of guilt and self-hatred after having confessed the truth to Ellie and if you’d pop up saying you want to discuss feelings and the potential of a future together, it might do more harm than good.
But you also can’t stand sitting idly by anymore.
Where to go when things feel rocky and you need answers? The bar. Of course. It simply brings a sense of relief not to drink necessarily, but to look at the beautiful setting of the place, to hear the murmur of healthy, happy people around you and to ponder over your own life.
And by the looks of it, seems like Joel had the same intentions for this afternoon.
You cautiously examine his body language before deciding to take a seat next to him. He looks hunched down, lost in his own thoughts and worries, and the whiskey in his glass the sole companion he needs. You linger, hesitating to sit down, so you check your surroundings for a more appropriate seat to take.
“I’m not gonna bite,” his husky voice announces.
You notice he doesn’t look at you, and you hesitate again. “I figured you wanna be alone.”
“I—you can stay.”
It sounds as if he meant to say entirely something else, something needier, but you take what you’re given. So you take the seat that’s closest to him, ordering a whiskey to soothe your nerves, and try your hardest to not stare at him.
“Wouldn’t have pegged you as a whiskey kind of woman,” Joel remarks.
You stifle a chuckle. “What type do I strike you as?”
“Wine. Red, probably.”
This time you do smile, unable to conceal how impressed you are at the fact that he just read you to a T.
“Well, until such time arrives that wine is produced again, whiskey it is,” you reply.
“How is she?”
Joel doesn’t waste any time in asking the question that stabs his heart; you take the first sip of the whiskey, allowing the amber and strong liquid to float in your bloodstream before replying.
“She needs some time,” you say rather darkly.
Joel nods absentmindedly, still not facing you.
“But otherwise, she’s okay,” you continue. “She might have a—a date tonight.”
“Date?”
“Mhm.”
“With that kid, Jesse?”
You glance over at him, stifling the amusement that comes over you. “Jesse?”
“I’ve seen ‘em spending time together, I figured… y’know, they like each other.”
“I think they do like each other, yes…”
“I got a pretty good instinct with this kind of stuff.”
Now you’re on the verge of a loud laughter. Joel finally sees your face, all stretched in a beautiful and tickled smile, and he frowns. “What?”
“Do you really have a good instinct when it comes to these things?” you can’t help but ask.
“Usually, yes. What—why?”
You falter, realizing such a reveal shouldn’t come from you. It would feel unfair, even cruel, to take this away from Ellie, to maybe out her when it’s her story, not yours.
“All I can say is that she’s not seeing Jesse tonight,” you answer.
Joel hums, finishing his drink and fully turning towards you. He seems tired, and that you can understand, but there’s also something else about him. Something you can’t quite pinpoint.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“Like everyone else, hoping for some answers at the bottom of a glass.”
“What answers you looking for?”
You falter. “Joel… what happened with you and Ellie? How did you end up taking her to the Fireflies and then… taking her away from them?”
He inhales slowly and deeply, pondering, reminiscing. He’s only ever told this story once, to Tommy, and no one else. The brothers swore to take the secret to their grave but… does it count if the person asking for it is in the same boat? If their life story, their secret, is the same as the one they swore to keep?
“She was cargo,” he almost groans. “She was supposed to be… just that, just cargo. Tess and I were smuggling her ‘cross country in exchange for a car battery. Then Tess got infected and… it was just me and Ellie.”
“I’m sorry. About Tess. Tommy mentioned her in passing, saying you were… smuggling partners.”
Joel keeps quiet, lowering his head.
“We’ve went through hell and back to deliver her to that Firefly hospital,” he continues. “We watched people die, nice, good people. Two brothers dying in cold blood because they couldn’t live without each other, innocent folks… Ellie’s gone through somethin’—I don’t even know what it was exactly, she never spoke about it but it changed her. Somethin’ about a man—“
You understand without any further information needed, and your heart shatters.
“Oh, Ellie…”
“And somewhere along the line… she wasn’t just cargo anymore. When I held her in my arms, she was crying, she was—upset… she wasn’t just cargo anymore. She was this girl who needed me and—“
“And you were there for her.”
He nods, shying away from your eyes. It’s as if he feels guilty admitting this to you as well, and your heart aches for him just as much.
“Marlene said there was a mass in her brain, and that in order to make a vaccine, they’d need to cut into it,” he continued. “That meant she was gonna die. My part was done. All I had to do was walk away. But I couldn’t. I started walkin’ and… I stopped. I couldn’t leave her there, all alone to die on that table. She didn’t know what they were gonna do to her, and I couldn’t—“
Joel chokes up a bit, so you inch closer, gently laying your hand on his arm. You expect him to push you away, yet he doesn’t.
“You did the right thing,” you reassure him.
“She doesn’t think that way.”
“Like I said, give her some space and time. She might come around.”
Joel hums again, visibly distraught. Somehow his hand finds yours, grazing the skin with his thumb, and you shudder.
“You know, I—I would’ve done the same thing,” you say, and that seems to get a reaction out of him. “If I were you and I had a chance of… sisterhood again… I would’ve done the same thing. Although I do think of Ellie as a little sister in a way.”
“She should have someone like you in her life. Someone… maternal.”
“Joel…”
There is so much you’d still like to tell him, how his fear of failing another daughter figure shouldn’t trick him into thinking that he’s out of Ellie’s life forever. You’d like to make him understand that he did the right thing and that anyone with a heart would’ve done the same.
Though right now, all you can do is sit in silence next to him, simply keep him company. And Joel seems like he appreciates that.
But when the whiskey settles itself in your bloodstream, warming you up, you feel an ache throughout your body that’s rapidly spreading. An ache that a simple conversation cannot soothe, one you might have to self-soothe instead of pinning this on Joel. It’s not the time for such endeavors, not when everything seems to have come clashing down around him.
The sudden callout of your name draws your attention. Joel’s tone is grave and husky, more so than usual, and as much as you’d hate to admit it, it raises concern for you. When you look at him and he fails to follow through, you get more frustrated than what you would’ve imagined.
“I can’t keep doing this, Joel,” you say. “I can’t keep sweet talkin’ to Ellie and then come here and try to help you… but most importantly, I can’t keep doing this dance around you. We’re both adults, we’re both old enough to stop playing silly games.”
Joel watches you closely, tipsy in the slightest, but mostly starving all of a sudden.
“I know we don’t owe each other anything and that… whatever this is, between us, it’s not a promise or whatever, but I care. I do care, a whole lot, and… every day matters. Every single fucking day matters. If you’ll let me, I will be there for you, however I can for as long as I can. That is a promise. If you don’t, that’s fine. But I can’t keep playing this game. I need to know. So… take your time, make up your mind, and let me know.”
You touch his arm lightly as you make your way out of the bar and into the cold November air. You can breathe into it so well, and yet it still feels suffocating to some extent. Your legs take you up the road, aimlessly; your mind is still spinning, your heart still racing. That little monologue of yours was overdue, but you now worry that the timing of it was by no means ideal.
Then again, when you broke the news about your immunity, that also wasn’t great timing on your part. Why would you ever be afraid of speaking up during such dangerous times?
Every day matters, you told Joel.
But having grown to know the man, you’d honestly expect Ellie forgiving him sooner than him actually talking to you. You do not condemn him, by no means; but you’d like to think, to hope, that whatever it was the two of you did thus far wasn’t short of any form of care. Hell, if you were to be utterly sincere with yourself… it ran deeper than mere physical attraction. Once you heard Joel and Ellie’s story, you knew it in your heart that you too would slaughter people, infected, whatever it took, just to keep them safe and close to you.
“You were right.”
Frowning, you turn to face the source of the growl, flabbergasted to find none other than Joel standing—now—face to face with you.
“You were right,” Joel repeats, inching closer to you. “We’re both too old to be playin’ some stupid teenage game.”
“One of us is.”
He chuckles lightly while your face remains impassible, cold and distant. Even if on the inside, you crave and you ache so ardently.
“But I thought it was obvious.”
“What was?” you ask.
“This. Us.”
You giggle rather mockingly. “Well pardon me for not picking up such obvious clues.”
Joel looks you up and down, his mind like a warzone as he tries to resume his speech.
“How would it be obvious, Joel?” you ask in return. “You kissed me once, then we slept together, also once, and now… now what?”
“You said to make up my mind, let you know about it.”
“Yes.”
“And now time’s up.”
He doesn’t give you the luxury of time to ponder over his words, or question his intentions; there is nothing to question: all you can focus on are his lips, full and slightly cold over yours, now gradually warming up as they find each other in a tipsy, ecstatic dance.
You might be rather embarrassed by how fast you succumbed to Joel’s touches, yet in this very moment, you are nothing but shameless. The kiss grows hungrier with each passing second, each more painful than the last. There’s neediness lingering in between you two, marching along with some sort of tenderness that affects you as much as it does him, if not more.
The rest is kind of a blur, really; all you know is that you find yourself writhing underneath Joel, atop of a bed, presumably his, craving for every single part of him, whatever he’s willing to give to you. He’s far too immersed in your warmth, the plush-like texture of your skin to even hear you whisper his name, half in a broken ache, and half in a needy manner.
Calloused hands go to your sides and start stripping the clothes off you. You do your best to shimmy your way out of them, helping Joel do the same. You have a whole other idea in your head, one that you can only hope will bring some relief to him.
You stand up halfway, peppering kisses down his jaw and neck, gaining more confidence with each whimper from Joel as you kiss your way down his belly and happy trail and eventually—
“You don’t have to—“
You flash a faint smile at him, one that’s barely visible in the dim light that’s reflecting from the moon’s rays coming through the window, but Joel knows you’re smiling. Somehow, somewhere along the line, he’s learned to learn all of your little habits and quirks, and it drives him insane.
“Lay back,” you tell him.
Heart in his throat, Joel gulps, watching with an absolutely parched mouth as you’re unbuckling his pants and helping him out of them. He lays back, as you had instructed him, hardly breathing by this point. He can’t seem to able to shift his gaze away from you as you lick your way up his cock, now fully erect and resting quite painfully against his belly.
With one hand you wrap your hand around the base, slowly jerking him off, and then you take him in your mouth. Fully, unabashedly.
And Joel loses his fucking mind.
This is far better than what he could’ve ever imagined. When he took himself in hand whilst thinking of you, he dared go as far as to fantasize of such a moment, but the reality is—maddening. There’s something absolutely filthy about seeing you in between his legs, stroking and sucking him off, but there’s tenderness to your motions. It’s not necessarily rushed, but it’s revealing a care that Joel hadn’t felt in years, decades… if ever.
He starts to squirm, closing his eyes and whimpering softly the more you take him in your mouth, and within the following seconds he knows he’s not going to last. It’s somewhat silly to have the endurance of a horny teenager, but he supposes it’s also quite sweet in a way. Isn’t this the ideal that so many couples search for their whole lives? To remain young at heart, like two teenagers in love whilst growing older together?
As Joel’s eyes lock with yours, he realizes that yes, that is indeed what he is looking for, too.
Something he hadn’t wanted since he met Sarah’s mother, a whole other lifetime ago.
Joel rises halfway, thus prompting you to stare at him curiously. You can faintly notice his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath he draws in, and you figure he’s overwhelmed. He then shakes his head, to which you only frown.
“Just lay back,” you repeat, teasing the tip of his cock with your tongue. “Let me make you feel good.”
There’s nothing he can say that; he can’t fight you, or this, so he lays back down, fully immersed in the way you’re sucking him almost dry, till he inevitably spills himself in your mouth and over your jaw, unable to stop himself.
When his eyes meet with yours again, he’s quite stunned to see you with the index over your jaw, gathering the droplets of his warm come and then sucking your finger clean. His first reflex is to kiss you again, growing more desperate to feel you properly. He hadn’t expected to still be half hard, yet there he is, clay in your capable hands.
But right now, he’s on a mission: he’s making you lay down now, kissing you till he falls atop of you and he can leave a wet trail down your skin and to the most sensitive spot. He kisses your breasts, nuzzling in between them and gently pinching your nipples till they pebble under his touch. Then he kisses your stomach, just as sweetly, making his way to your thighs—
And he freezes.
“Joel?” you call out to him.
No response. You try to get a better look at his face, managing to acknowledge the fact that he looks a bit spooked. Not the reaction you want when someone’s about to go down on you.
“Joel, what’s going on?”
“I didn’t realize you had a… tattoo. Here.”
He gently presses on your thigh, grazing his fingers over the ink that’s there.
“Yeah it’s a—“
“Butterfly.”
He figures you might be confused but he can’t fully explain it to you. How is he supposed to tell you that the butterflies always make him think of his daughter? How can he forgive himself for thinking of her right now?
No, but it’s not like that. It’s just—there are many traits in you that Sarah had. The kindness, the sense of humor, the sensitivity… it makes him think of you as part of him, too, and it simultaneously breaks him and brings him back to life.
“Joel, we don’t have to do this if you’re not okay,” you reassure him.
You don’t understand what’s going on, and you’re a bit afraid to ask, frankly, so you just want him to know that whatever he chooses, it will be okay.
But then Joel looks at you and his lips are back on yours. Only for a spare moment, because then he resumes his ministrations and just dives into your pussy.
That first lick through your folds is determined, surefire, but incredibly caring. You gasp the moment his tongue start lapping at your folds, and your hand instantly grabs ahold of his hair, guiding him to where you need him the most.
You try your best to watch him do his devilish work on you, feeling his stubble tickle your inner thighs while his thumb is rubbing your clit. It takes all of your willpower to not squirm, but you cannot resist it. You fail spectacularly, and end up rubbing yourself on his face to the best of your abilities.
But Joel doesn’t mind, not one bit; matter of fact, this is perfect. This is all he could possibly want, make you mumble nonsensical things whilst pleading for him to give you more and smearing your arousal all over his nose, cheeks and jaw.
“Joel—fuck—fuck, I’m—“
He can feel you tense as his hands grip your thighs so hard, your skin will undoubtedly be adorned in bruises tomorrow. He thrusts his hips forward too, growing needier.
“Joel, please—“
He’s not sure if what you’re pleading for is your sweet release or to feel more of him—though he’s rather inclined for the latter cause he sure as hell could use it, too—but what he does know with certainty is that he wants to feel you come right then, as you are. Right there in his mouth. With a few additional licks and rubs, Joel gets his wish granted.
You seize up all around his face, the force of your orgasm causing you to shut your eyes and grab his hair tighter. It takes you a bit to settle down, to even realize that you’re still in the bedroom there with Joel, but once you see his face, his eyes, there’s something else you feel.
It’s big and dangerous, and most importantly, you know you can’t say it. Not right now, not with everything that’s going on in Joel’s life.
Or would this be something he’d need to hear?
“Joel, I—“you start, but he climbs atop of you again, one hand curled around his cock and the other spreading your legs further to make room for him.
“I just need—I need to feel you,” he retorts, his voice dark with desire and yet oddly broken. “Please.”
You cup his cheeks, pulling him in for a kiss to let him know that it’s okay, and Joel gets the message. He guides himself to your soaked core, pushing gently at first. It’s now dawning on him that he hasn’t felt you this intimately in two months, and it’s clearly contributing to how sensitive and overwhelmed he’s feeling tonight.
“Fuck,” Joel grunts, head falling in the crook of your neck in an instant.
He’s fully sheathed inside of you, big and thick, and you all but crumble. You know you cannot do that, not now. You need to give him—and yourself—some comfort and relief. So you cup his cheeks once more, thus forcing him to look at you, and Joel sees in your eyes all that he needs to. He sees confirmation and desire, and he starts to move. You gasp, eyes never leaving his, and Joel gets more confident. He rolls his hips just a little faster, enough to make you feel him suitably, but not too fast. He doesn’t want a rough, fast fuck tonight. He just wants to feel you, to be with you.
To love you, if possible.
“S‘warm—“you hear Joel grunt in your earlobe.
There are dozens of things you’d like to tell him, starting from how good it feels to have him inside you, how full you are with him, to how well he’s doing and what a good man he is, but none leave your mouth. Instead, you resort to kissing him rather sloppily while he’s thrusting into you. Both of you opt to simply enjoy each other’s presence and body, as well as the sounds that fall down your tongues, each the cause and effect of the other.
You get lost in the kisses you and Joel share. So much so that you end up snug on his lap, riding him slowly as you whisper sweet nothings in his ear. You swear you feel his face burning—you might even theorize that he’s blushing, but you’re not about to tease him in that regard. Maybe some other time.
“It’s okay,” you tell him after a while, realizing that he was forcing himself to postpone his own pleasure in favor of yours. “Joel, it’s okay—you’re with me. It’s just me and you. Can you come for me? Hm?”
Joel nods frantically, his arms gluing your to his chest as you pick up the pace, jumping up and down on him and finally, at long last, Joel spills himself all over your thighs with a loud grunt and your name on his lips, the one name he’d ever moaned in the throes of passion and ecstasy.
While he’s catching his breath, you smile, pulling him closer so you can kiss him again. God, will you ever tire of this?
“You did so well, Joel,” you whisper. “You were so good for me.”
“But you didn’t—“
You shake your head, a smile stretching across your lips. “I just wanted to be with you. I—“
You stop yourself before the words can come out of your mouth. You’re not entirely ready to say them, and you suspect they might overwhelm Joel even more. For now, you choose to let him tuck you in bed next to him, both of you sated and in full bliss.
But in your heart, you know the truth.
Joel Miller is the man you love.
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#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us fic#tlou fanfiction#tlou#tlou fic#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal smut#guilty pleasures series
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Once Upon A Time I Used To Know A Girl
Chapter 8
Carol Danvers x Reader
Masterlist | This work's masterlist | AO3
Summary: The King of New Asgard finally makes an appearance.
Angst, Slow Burn, Amnesia.
Word count: 959
I Hold The Knife At The Blade
You're in your room waiting for Kamala to come visit you as always. She seems to be running a little late, that's if she's even coming at all. With the way you left things the day before you're not so sure anymore. The worry in your mind starts growing when a suspicious knock interrupts you, before you can answer it, the door swings open to reveal The King of New Asgard.
"Val?" you yelp, "It's so good to see you." You reach out for her and share a comforting hug.
"Hey, Princess." You stiffen at the pet name.
"Did you just call me 'Princess?'" you ask, hoping you misheard her.
Realizing what just happened, she clarifies, "That's a thing I call you now, don't worry about it."
You mumble an 'okay' into her shoulder. She places a steaming mug on the table in front of you and takes a seat on the couch beside you.
"When did you get here?"
"Last night."
"Why didn’t you call?"
"I thought you detested intergalactic communications," she retaliates, "little Marv sends her regrets, she will not be making it today."
"Everything okay?" There is slight concern in your voice.
"She had to cover a last minute mission."
"On her own?"
"Oh, no, she has her team of teenage superheroes."
"So we're resorting to child labor now?"
"They're actually quite good." Valkyrie seems unbothered by the implications of your comment.
"They do sound kinda cute." You shrug it off.
"So, how are you doing?" She crosses her legs.
"I lost all my memories from the past several years, how do you think I’m doing?"
"That's not what I meant." She gives you a stern look.
You sigh, "The headaches are mild now, still have the weird dreams, though."
"Dreams? I haven't heard anything about these dreams."
"Do you also want my chart?"
"I see your attitude hasn't changed," she grins.
"It's been tough.”
"I can imagine." She places a hand on your shoulder.
After you make sure it's not scolding hot anymore, you take a sip of the mug Val brought for you.
"Cream, no sugar, how did you-" You stop yourself mid question, "I keep forgetting I’m the only one who doesn’t remember things," you huff and she gives you a sympathetic look, "tell me something about me."
She bites her lip for a moment, "You’re quite good with a sword," she smirks.
You chuckle, "I learned from the best."
"I was asked to keep you entertained for the day," A devilish smile starts forming on her face. "What do you say we go down to the gym and have some fun?"
On your way downstairs you encounter a small kitten that stops right in front of you. In an instant, tentacles come out of its mouth and it produces a toaster. "Did that cat just vomit up a toaster?" you ask, alarmed.
Valkyrie begins to explain, "That’s not a cat, it’s a-"
"Flerken," you interrupt her.
"Very good," Val is impressed.
"What’s it doing here?"
"What are any of us really?" she replies as 'you brought them back from a mission' doesn’t seem like something she’s allowed to tell you. You both keep walking.
You get to the gym and Valkyrie hands you a weapon, it’s been a while since you’ve been in the field so you ask her to go easy on you. She complies, if only because she would be in big trouble if she actually hurt you.
You go at it for a couple of rounds, she pulls some new moves and some you knew very well, though that doesn't mean you know how to handle them, Valkyrie has always been the best when it comes to swords.
"You’re off your game," she teases you in the middle of a fight.
"Oh, no, really?" you respond sarcastically, you get distracted by her words and she takes the opportunity to shove you down. She starts driving her weapon towards your chest and you hold your own sword with both hands, trying to push her away.
A scar on your neck catches her attention, it’s one she has never seen before, curiosity makes her lose her balance and you manage to turn her over, claiming victory over the match, "I’m done," you pant.
She stays underneath you, making no effort to move, "Is that all you can handle?"
"You try going through the most traumatic mission of your life and then sword fighting the King of Asgard."
"It’s New Asgard, have some respect for my Kingdom," she jokes.
"Right, sorry,” you feign an apology, “how’s royalty treating you?"
"It's not a big deal," she brushes it off.
"You wear three piece suits now, that's a big deal, you look hot." You eye her up and down as you say the last part.
"Why thank you, I try."
"Tell me, did we ever…?"
"No, never!" she answers before you can finish your question, pushing you off to the side and sitting up, "Are you thinking about it?" Her eyes go wide.
"Would it be so wrong if I said yes?" you insinuate, amused by her reaction.
"Yes, it would be!"
"Alright I didn’t say anything, you’re the one out here calling me 'Princess.'" You lift your arms in fake surrender.
"I said not to worry about it."
"I’m not!"
You awake in a dark, cold room, this time you are able to open your eyes ever so slightly and catch a glimpse of a screen. It's a fight, dozens of the same full armored men that took you, against a single target, a golden blonde figure in a red and blue suit with a star in the middle. Like clockwork, you feel a sharp pain in your neck and fall back asleep.
Chapter 9
Can you tell I Love Valkyrie?
Tags: @graniairish @carols-photonblast @thelittleliars @unicorniusfallapatorius @prplepeony
Let me know if you wanna be tagged :)
#carol danvers#carol danvers x reader#captain marvel#captain marvel x reader#carol danvers angst#kamala khan#valkyrie
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So sorry to bother you.
I have a question regarding depicting Lilith in media. Is it also considered appropriation for non-Jewish people to use Lilith as a character in their works?
I'm assuming it is, given everything else, but I just wanted to clarify. The last thing I want is to spread more misinformation.
Also, thank you so much for everything you do. I've learned a lot from your blog, and I have multiple of your posts bookmarked to share with people when relevant.
Thank you!
I don’t think it’s that simple. Context matters.
There are ways of doing it that can be antisemitic if it leans into harmful Jewish stereotypes or antisemitic narratives, but the issue is with people trying to actually worship/work with her, not so much people just interacting with the idea of her in a work of fiction.
Like for example, I don’t personally have an issue with the fact Lilith is mentioned in Hazbin Hotel. She’s a well-known demon figure and the whole thing is a highly-stylized artistic interpretation of hell anyway that’s clearly divorced from any sort of religious intent. When the new episodes dropped and she came up I just went “Oh. Okay.” then moved on. I’m not excited about it but I’m also not going to cancel something just for being inspired by a piece of mythology and I’m admittedly curious to see how they eventually reinterpret her. It’s a spectrum, not a bright red line.
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If you’re Latine/Latinx who don’t know how to speak Spanish. That’s okay, you’re still Latine/Latinx.
So since it the last day of Hispanic heritage, and honestly I wish I was more participle with this month as an Hispanic. I’ll try to do that next time, I think honestly I just really don’t know what to exactly post, but then I had a thought. Something I wish I had someone tell me back then. So I want to talk about it in honor of Hispanic heritage month, sorry if I did this on the last day, I’ll do better next time. But for now, I wanna share just a small story while also showing encouragement, so hope you like it.
So, If you go on my introduction post, I noted that I’m Puerto Rican and also, that I don’t know how to speak Spanish. Ironic/silly isn’t it? It even more so considering mostly all my family speak Spanish, so your a question that your asking is “didn’t your folks teach you?”. Well, haha about that, you see I’m not gonna reveal anything super personal, all imma say to give context is that I couldn’t talk until I was exactly five years old; so my mom kinda had no other choice but to teach me English. So most of my childhood that was the only language I learn.
Now probably also wondering “well, you learn English? didn’t you have Spanish class?”, yes I did, in my state at least, the require language to learn was Spanish (which imma reveal a very silly funfact: I thought because of movies/show the require language was French because all they learn was french.), so as a kid I wanted to learn; only, people there already were very advantage in Spanish, a lot better than me, (small context: in my state, majority of the people are more Spanish speakers, let me clarify I’m not saying this is bad since I do love Spanish. I’m just clarifying to provide context) and not only that, the spanish at least I was taught were completely different than the Spanish I know with my folks. So as a kid, it made me really insecure about my Spanish skills, like sure I knew some basic and whatnot but I couldn’t and still can’t speak fluently like my folks. So overtime, I got insecure about my identity too. It got to the point that I wasn’t proud to be Hispanic, because back then a thought that would play was “what’s the point if I can’t even speak our basic language?”. This wasn’t to say I didn’t love being Puerto Rican or Puerto Rico as a whole, I love being Puerto Rican and Puerto Rico, I just felt in a way, I’m not worthy to call myself Puerto Rican if I couldn’t speak Spanish. I still remember a teacher even told me that “it kinda is your mom fault for not teaching you” and it boy if that didn’t make me more self conscious. (There was more, but I’m not comfortable revealing them just yet. So maybe next time my ghostly pals)
But then, I remember, 2020, I watched Emirichu’s video about her Asian experience. And it help me feel emotional, because while my parents didn’t move form Puerto Rico to America (that goes to my grandma), like Emily, I had this big disconnect from my Puerto Rican roots and often feel envious when others spoke better Spanish than me. And not only that, I did at some point and like mention I felt embarrassed so I convinced myself say “oh I can never like tostones” or “I’m definitely going to feel more of an outside if I ever visit Puerto Rico one day” or even “I might as well not try, it already too late”. But, the video let me know I wasn’t alone. And even seeing comments under the video, it help me feel like I wasn’t the only one with this identity crisis. But one thing that I feel is upmost important that I toke from the video, “you’re still Latine/Latinx/any other race no matter if you can or can’t speak Spanish or any native language.” And man, I wish I heard that a lot during my childhood rather than feeling embarrassed, ashamed or feel out of place. But I’m happy I found this video, and I’m glad the video found me and others like me.
So overtime, I began to slowly become appreciative of my roots. I think what was maybe the final push was Lin Manuel Miranda’s Broadway turn movie “In the heights”, now I love the Broadway, so when watching the movie, I couldn’t help but love it even more, because I appreciate how the movie celebrate all walks of Latine/Latinx/Hispanic cultures from Dominican, Cuban, Chilean, Mexican, Colombian, Puerto Rican and more. How this community is so vast and vibrant of overall, proud of their heritage. So I began to slowly being loving my heritage, and for healing, whenever I make an oc, I make them Puerto Rican or headcanon an existing character as Puerto Rican, or learn fact about Puerto Rico to feel more connected (like funfact did you know Puerto Rico is also called Isla del Encanto? Isn’t that beautiful? 🥹) and even now I would ask my mom “hey what does *insert Spanish phrase* mean?” Granted, I will still get moment where I doubt or have imposter syndrome (or as my mom would sometimes say I am my worse critic). But I stop myself, and say “hey, you’re still Hispanic/Latine/Latinx.” Or “don’t worry, you’re still learning.” It’s still a process. And even now I still don’t know Spanish, like I guess to best describe it, I know what people can be saying or what they’re talking about depending on the context but I don’t know how to respond back. Nor write..or spell. But I still am learning as I go, my folks told me one of the best way is to listen to Spanish song and so I’ve been trying to do that or I’ll ask my mom “hey is this accurate?”. So I just want to tell the people who will read this or my Hispanic/Latine/Latinx ghost pals that, no matter if you can’t speak the language, like certain food from your roots, or are feeling the same way I felt, it’s okay, your still valid and you’re still Hispanic/Latine/Latinx. I can’t say it going to be easy, because I’ll be a hypocrite if I did, but, I can say, it worth it each step of the way. And I wish you luck amigos.
But, thanks for taking the time to read this, I know this isn’t my usually good omen content and I’m sorry if I wasn’t super active for this heritage month. I’ll try better next time. But until then, hope your having your last day of Hispanic/Latine/Latinx heritage month! what is it I can do to be more participant for next time? Let me know! Or if you have any question about this post or anything, my inbox is open ask away my fellow ghost ^v^ And always, especially with it still being all hallow’s Eve, stay spooky my pals!
#happy hispanic heritage month#hispanics#latine heritage month#latine tag#latinx#Latine#puerto rico#puerto rican#puerto rico 🇵🇷#🇵🇷
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Jiraak OC relationship ask: 5, 31, 32, 38, 40, 61 and 100! (only if it’s no trouble! I’m incredibly nosy :3)
I LOVE NOSY!!! BE NOSY ALL YOU LIKE!!! Thank you so much for asking about my stupid blorbos!!! 💖🥺
💕ask game💕
5. What is something they like to do together?
Ah, many things! Firstly, I can see them enjoying learning from each other since they're both very inquisitive—Jia teaches Miraak alchemy, while he teaches her magic, mostly restoration and alteration. They like cooking together (Miraak's not there yet, but he tries okay; he loves eating though! 🥲), and they even like to stay close in comfortable silence; I promise, though, Jia loves it when listens to him humming Atmoran shanties and/or psalms from his Dragon Priest era! Having been out of Apocrypha, she knows he'd appreciate walks in the sun and picnics in the frosty woods by Heljarchen Hall, as well as gazing at the aurora and the stars at night, feeding the birds nestling in her roof tiles, tending the flowers in her garden, and generally, being reintroduced to the world with her helping him remember every single detail...🥰
31. How would they describe one another.
Due to the nature of their soul bond (which hasn't been clarified completely in my fic yet...👀) I can only imagine them describing one another the way Emily Bronte did it in Wuthering Heights, which is to say not so romantic, but with a tint of pain and inevitability instead:
“He is more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. If all else perished and he remained, I should still continue to be, and if all else remained, and we were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger. He’s always, always in my mind; not as a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.”
32. Can they communicate private thoughts whilst in company? If so, how?
I mean,,, they can read each other's minds if they try hard enough! There's a scene in my fic where Miraak just. skims through Jia's memories and almost uncovers her worst fear (wow, rude much, Miraak? 😤). Also, they tend to recognize each other's mannerisms. For example, Jia has very specific ways she moves when she's nervous, angry, excited, etc, and Miraak, being very observant, knows how to interpret them even if she can't speak her mind at a specific moment, and vice versa.
38. What would be their ideal evening in?
So, both in Heljarchen Hall and Breezehome, Jia has purposely left a piece of her wooden canopy a little open (just so, she can't stand the cold!), so the light of the night sky always slips right into her room. I imagine an ideal evening in would be her lying in bed with Miraak, both moonbathed, talking to each other, discussing everything, good and bad, tales and real segments of their lives, until the night eventually turns into day, and instead of starlight/moonglow, they are cloaked by the warmth of the sunlight and birbs' chirps...🥰
40. THE OLD WITCH SLEEP AND THE GOOD MAN GRACE BY THE AMAZING DEVIL.
Their shared trauma, their pain, their despair, their attempts to give strength to one another ["You're better than this" He says as a hand slaps my face and I stand And say, "No good man grace" I can't do this (you can)] AND ["Oh, sleep now," oh, she pleads "You're not a coward 'cause you cower You're brave because they broke you Yet broken still you breathe So breathe, breathe, just breathe"]
Not to mention the "'Cause you are in the earth of me", which for Plot Significance makes me jump around like a monkey. Ough. Just Ough...
61. How would they describe their S/O in one word?
Miraak for Jia: ember (a smouldering one...👀)
Jia for Miraak: angel (a bit fallen and corrupted but an angel nonetheless 😅)
100. Make a meme of this ship.
I am a bad Meme Maker myself, but I stumbled upon a Perfect Jiraak Meme on Pinterest, which is this right here and has a very "give me your hand" "I'll stain you" "I'll take it" vibe:
This also goes either way, for both.
#I'M SO SORRY FOR THE ESSAYS I HOPE I DIDN'T BORE YOU...😭#i love these two pathetic kittens too much...#miraak#oc: jia#miraak x ldb#otp: twin flames#the priest and the dragoness#skyrim fanfiction
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share with me one espave song on the espave playlist and tell me why its on the espave playlist. also it has to be one you havent already told me about so no biohazard eurovision songs :3
OKAY I AM ALSO EXCLUDING PTV SONGS BECAUSE. WELL. I TALKED ABOUT FLORAL & FADING ENOUGH. OKAY SO
youtube
(included both links for the non-spotifiers)
DISCLAIMER: THIS IS ANCIENT BSC LORE SO IF IT FEELS OUT OF PLACE THAT IS WHY, I RETCONNED IT LIKE A DECADE AGO LOLOLOL
so, originally, there was like, a sonic&co party. it was around 06, hence the rogues being present. anyways, wave had this thing where she said she refused to dance with anyone shorter than her (she’s 3’7 and therefore taller than most of the cast LOL)
vector big and storm are like “are we a joke to you” to which she adds the clause “i also don’t want people stepping on my feet, you assholes are too clumsy”
SO. this rules out everyone but espio, who is the exact same height as her >:)
jet and amy (who are besties) have the idea to like. make this happen. wave LOVES this song so jet knowingly queues it which earns a deathglare, but practically forces her to go ask espio if he’ll dance with her (he’s just been chilling at a table with rouge and shadow)
anyways. amy shoves her in his direction so she’s all 🧍♀️and he’s all 🪑🧍♂️
and she’s like. “hi. so as you know, i’m not dancing with idiots or short people. but you’re fine i guess. do you want to dance?” (internally screaming and trying not to crumble or do something really vulnerable such as seem like she cares or wants to socialize)
espio, not even sensing any layers here, just answering point blank: yeah sure that sounds fun
SO WAVE IS LIKE INTERNALLY DYING AND ESPIO IS LIKE. JUST A GUY. ANYWAYS.
(btw at this point i want to clarify it’s not like wave has a crush on him and is fangirling, she just doesn’t know how to make friends and hates seeming vulnerable or emotionally expressive. so like, requesting to dance with espio opens her up to potential rejection which she’d kill herself over because god the embarrassment right?)
okay so THEN they start dancing and it’s silly and fun and wave is like “ruh roh raggy” internally because a) this is fun(???) and b) espio has a nice laugh she didn’t think he was this chill oh boy oh golly awe shucks etc
and espio is like. wow. i was just vibing and a pretty girl comes up to me and asks me to dance with her. rizz? WAIT A SECOND, THEYRE THE SAME HEIGHT? AND SHE KNEW THIS BEFOREHAND SOMEHOW??? HMM. HOLD THAT THOUGHT.
so then they continue dancing etc they talk they bond etc this is for the rest of the party…
…and before they part ways espio is like. “hey. for the record, if you were so adamant about not wanting to socialize with anyone here, including me, you would have worn heels.”
wave caught in 4k. AND SCENE
tldr: i love them very much so despite this being old lore, i treasure it via music :)
#jesse shadow squidman#espio the chameleon#wave the swallow#espave#bsc ships#bsc music#THIS IS LITERALLY SO OLD#BUT I STILL LOVE IT
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hey loml share snippet plssssss
Lavender turns back to Louis with a sly look growing in her eyes. “Did you tame Harry Styles, or is your ass just so good he can’t risk losing it, so, he has to be nice to me now?”
Louis gapes.
“Neither,” Harry speaks up rather quickly, taking some things out of the fridge. “It’s more like I’m doing it for Louis’s comfort.” He looks Lavender in the eye as he walks over, handing over her the hummus and naan. “I don’t give a shit about you. Begone.”
Lavender makes a face, taking her food from Harry’s hands.
“Harry,” Louis says.
Harry closes the fridge. “What? That was nice.”
“For him, it was,” Lavender agrees. “Anyway, Louis, we need more face masks for tomorrow. I counted 19 when there’s 30 of us. Plus, we ran out of blue nail polish. Thyme always needs that. Also, polish remover. There’s, like, a splash left.”
Louis facepalms.
“Shit,” he sighs, looking at Harry, “I knew I was forgetting something.”
Harry digs his hand in his jean pocket immediately, rustling his car keys and moving towards the kitchen exit. “D’you want me to go get it? Is there a specific brand of polish? Is any shade of blue fine, or—?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Louis dismisses.
“Baby blue, Sally Hansen Insta-Dry, and whatever remover is available,” Lavender supplies as she dips her naan in her hummus. “Just make sure to get the big bottle.”
Harry nods.
“I’ll be back,” he promises.
Louis tries to object, saying he can go get it himself, but Harry brushes him off and blows him a silent kiss behind Lavender’s back before disappearing completely. There’s only a box of thin spaghetti noodles and a jar of sauce left sitting out, so, Louis sighs in defeat and puts it away.
So much for that.
“This is so funny to me,” Lavender comments, swallowing her food. “I’ve never seen him like this. He’s been the same frat fuckboy since freshman year.”
“Harry?” Louis says, even though he knows the answer.
“Mhm,” Lavender hums. She takes another bite of her food, waits to speak until she’s chewed and swallowed. “Yep. What did you do, momma? To make him act loyal,” she clarifies at his confused stare. Another thought runs through her head, because she gasps a little. “Has he taken you on a date? Oh, my God, did he? Where? When? Louis, why haven’t you told me?”
Louis’s shaking his head before she even finishes her questions.
“First of all,” he starts, “no, he hasn’t taken me on a date.” He pauses. “Well. I’m waiting for him to ask me. He hasn’t yet. But he’s going to. I just don’t know when or how.”
Lavender scoffs. “What the hell? He needs to quit fucking around and ask you.”
“That’s what I’m saying!”
“So, like, what does this mean?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m assuming he’s told you he’s gonna ask you out,” she says. At his confirmation nod, she continues. “Okay, so—what are you two now? Have you kissed him?”
Louis’s smile is so involuntary he can’t stop it. “Yeah,” he replies, blushing.
“Oh,” Lavender teases, smiling, too. “He was good, wasn’t he?”
“You’ve kissed him.”
She shakes her head. “Barely,” she says. “And it was sophomore year. We were so wasted, I can hardly remember anything, actually. But that doesn’t matter.”
“I don’t know what we are,” Louis answers after a moment.
Lavender nods.
“Well, what matters is that he seems like he’d drop anything to please you.”
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LWD: “Male Code Blue”
OKAY I FINALLY FOUND A WAY TO WATCH THESE AGAIN (and I just... Don’t wanna do any more work today. I’m done; no more).
Gosh, Casey is looking some pretty for a family supper... And George sticking his tongue out at Nora? (older!Dasey anyone...?)
My gosh. Neither Sam nor Casey have ANY chill. Nora says the word, “crush”, and they both flinch wildly. Like, I know this is a TV show and they have to make it ~obvious~ but my gosh. My dudes. I am embarrassed for you.
Oh, Sam. I can already see why Sam/Casey don’t work out: he struggles to stand up to either Casey or Derek.
Welp, Sam. If you didn’t want Derek to know about your thing for Casey, you’ve sure ruined that now. The hardness in Derek’s voice and the look he just shot Sam... Oh boy. Poor Sammy. He doesn’t deserve this. He deserves a kinder TV show.
(George, I CANNOT HANDLE HOW OBLIVIOUS YOU ARE)
PAUL YOU ARE THE BEST. That grin you get when Casey starts gushing about Sam -- like. You just genuinely care. And then the way you ask about Derek’s feelings... You are SUCH a good guy. And perceptive!!!
OKAY, COSTUME DEPARTMENT, YOU ARE ON FIRE!!! That guy walking in front of Derek with the “Didn’t your parents teach you how to share sweatshirt” RIGHT AS DEREK SEES CASEY AND SAM FLIRTING. Damn, Costume Dept. You understood this assignment.
Derek clarifying that step-siblings are also off-limits according to the Male Code... I don’t know if that’s him cutting off Sam’s argument that Casey isn’t his sister -- because, bless Sam, but he’s been very consistent in calling Casey and Derek stepsiblings -- or him clarifying it for himself. Maybe both? At this point in the game, Derek doesn’t seem to mind calling Casey a sister (or sis) if it benefits him...
And just when I think Nora is a better parent than George, she shows that she’s as out of the loop with their kids’ lives as him... And now they’re having this conversation about literally this very thing... George, George, George... I’m gonna have to think about this for a while. Because I... I like you, but my gosh.
Derek, you are trying to convince yourself that you’re okay with this, and you are so obviously not. I wish the camera would actually let you be alone with your emotions for one minute. It would do you a world of good.
Casey is so brave. I love her so much. Look at her trying to talk to Sam about things. She is so brave.
DEREK, YOU LITTLE CREEPER, watching from around the corner!!! Also, also: I think he feels bad for Casey. Maybe Sam too, but he’s watching Casey try not to cry, and it’s like... He doesn’t understand what his heart is doing. That’s the face of someone feeling things they don’t understand.
Passive-aggressive Casey is hilarious.
Lizzie is the best sister. What an excellent support to Casey and her craziness.
Every now and again I see how Sam has handled Derek over the years, and I’m glad he has SOME backbone. And all these comments about Derek making ALLLLL the rules...
(something something about Derek making the rules and Casey following them... let me sit on that one for a while)
Edwin (1) calling Casey his sister when she’s not around is the cutest thing ever; and (2) offering to give Sam girl advice because he’s gotten his first girlfriend is also FANTASTIC. And then he actually gives good advice. What a good boy.
So. George and Nora have just DISMALLY failed a quiz about how well they know each other, hear Derek and Sam wrestling, and don’t even go to check it out???? They just! I just!! YOU. GUYS. No WONDER Lizzie is mad. I’m mad!!!
Sam actually grabbing Casey by the waist to keep her from killing Derek. Honestly the bravest thing he’s done all episode.
...is Derek fixing his collar a nervous habit? Is that something he does to give himself a moment to think? (He looks VERY nervous/almost scared right now in the face of a fierce Casey.)
Casey spinning on Sam to shout at him -- I adore her.
The way Derek looks at her when she’s shouting at Sam... I think it’s a mix of relief that she’s no longer screaming at him, amusement at her (because I think he is often WILDLY amused by her), and evil glee that her and Sam might not actually get together... He is still, however, offended when she calls him an idiot (drama king).
WATCH THE EVOLUTION OF DEREK’S HEART. IT ACTUALLY GREW A SIZE BEFORE OUR EYES. Huh. You really do care about Sam. That’s sweet.
And then he gives permission. He’s not hiding that he’s not happy about this, but... Still. Look at his growth!!
Sam, you should have LISTENED TO YOUR HEART. Both Venturi boys are DUMBOS.
CASEY KISSED HIM FIRST. I AM SO PROUD OF HER.
Okay. Do I think Derek is aware he has feelings? Yes. Do I think he knows what these feelings are? ...unsure. I can see him ignoring them, pretending that they’re not what they are...
#life with derek#urn watches lwd#dasey#still not sure how self-aware derek is; he's a bit of a dumbass
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HELLO! I have Qs for you, my pal! >:D
💞💌💫🎀 (again) 🥰
(writer's asks: let's get REAL)
HELLO
alright alright alright alright let's GO
(I have rearranged the order to better serve everyone's dashes, lol)
💞 what’s the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language
DEFFS the characters. Give me the arcs! The good dialogue! I do not want them to be built for the plot, I want them to be LIVING IN THE PLOT! If that makes even a lick of sense
💫what is your favourite kind of comment/feedback?
Oh my god, DEFINITELY the scene by scene word barf! I love the long long comments that just GUSH about each part and point out favourite bits and AH! Every comment is a treat, of course, but those ones? Like a fun Cliff's Notes for my me of my own work 🤩🤩
🎀give yourself a compliment about your own writing
Okay okay okay. Uh. I have noticed recently that my descriptions of what characters are doing as they talk, like body language, facial expressions, etc, has gotten reallty good! Could still use improvement! Like maybe 10 words to describe things instead of 5? But it's been shaping up thanks to reading several other fics that EXCEL at that 😍😍🤩🤩
💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!
Ou! Oh gosh! Okay! Uh! Let me see! How does an Into the Shadows snippet sound? Very excited about this bit lol (under the cut we go!)
Blossom jumped; the voice seemed to come from everywhere, all at once.
“Who said that! Show yourself!” Blossom yelled, stomping her hock. A stick flew up; she grabbed it in her hand. It wasn’t as pointy as she’d like, but it’d do for now. She’d grab the Big Ones if she needed to. She had the fastest draw time of all her siblings!
There was new laughter, now. It sounded sweet. It sounded wrong. It was like a musical chime, but the chime was off. Maybe it was an octave too high. Maybe too low? The weird, echoey vibe to it sent shivers through her furs.
The wave began to swirl. A bright blue light seemed to appear, glowing, within. It drifted to the top, whirling amongst the darkness as the laughter continued. It burst through to the surface; a bright blue ball that twirled, and twirled, until POOF! It glowed even brighter and took the vague shape of a very scary looking blue lady.
She looked like she was made of energy. There was no other way to explain it. Blue energy drifted above and around her head, looking kinda like hair. She had a face, also blue; her eyebrows, eyes, nose, mouth, all of her facial features were made of energy too. Slightly darker. She was curvy. Or at least, Blossom thought she was by humanoid standards. Behind her exploded energy hair, a bit lower down where her hind would be if she were a Bunny, Blossom could see something flicking back and forth—almost like a tail. A long tail, with a pointy end.
What the heck was this lady?
“Where is the Easter Bunny?” She demanded; her voice smooth.
“Who’s asking?” Blossom replied, crossing her paws.
“Yeah!”
“Who’s asking?”
“Tell ‘em, Lieutenant!”
“I’m asking,” the blue lady said with a grin. A pointy grin, Blossom noticed. Yucky.
“Why do you wanna know?” Blossom asked again, standing her ground. Around her, her siblings began to do the same.
“Because he and I have a little excursion to go on, and I don't take no for an answer.” Her fist lit up blue, and her eyes narrowed. “I am not afraid of a gaggle of little rodents, and nor are my shadowy friends,” she said.
The shadows hissed in agreement; some of them seemed to lick their lips. They didn’t even have lips!
“So you’re here to kidnap the Easter Bunny?” Blossom clarified.
“Basically, yes,” the lady replied.
It was silent for a moment. The shadows hissed; bunny ears flicked and noses twitched. The stick in Blossom’s hand fell. The woman grinned, the shadows shifting faster.
“BUNNIES!” Blossom called out, raising her paw in the air. “WEAPONS!”
“WEAPONS!” a little less than thirty thousand voices rang out.
Thwips and shinks and cracks and thunks filled the air as these small, poof balls of fur pulled out all manner of weaponry. Sharp sticks were brandished, slingshots grabbed and stones in hand. The older rabbits pulled out bats and all manner of sharp objects—one of them even had a dagger that looked like a sword in their tiny little paws.
Blossom held what looked to be two sticks in her paws. She flicked them out and they extended, the batons colourful and splattered with paint. They were a pastel nightmare, which suited Blossom just fine because so was she.
“Well, this was unexpected,” the blue lady said, blinking. “How fun! SICK EM, BOYS!”
And with that, the Easter Battle began.
---
Blossom opens Into the Shadows as a fun fact! And she is a TERROR UNTO SOCIETY. She runs the Easter Buns with an iron fist, and protects them with two pastel sticks. She is ready to THROW DOWN at a HARE'S NOTICE (she is a rabbit, after all).
Guess I'll have to tag this one as Shadowy snippets too, eh, K? thanks for the ask!! :)
#dani answers#definitelyy-not-a-vampire#ask box shenanigans#shadowy snippets#i am v excited about shadows yall#i'm a little stuck on chapter 7? right now?#and i deffs need to clear up some motives and do a little myles toothing on main#and make a lil conspiracy board#BUT YEAH
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Hello, this is W.E, thanks for the answer, initially I wanted Rocky and Freckles to become brothers again, but ... who am I kidding? Of course a romantic relationship, I think that after what happened to them, they have a slightly shaky brotherly bond, due to which the boundaries have blurred, plus, Victim!Freckle and Victim!Rocky will feel a special and strong connection with each other, they both experienced betrayal their close people, and they both went through a very traumatic experience, as a result they become even closer, more than a brotherly bond, and something else, in fact they are not exactly cousins, since they belong to different alternate universes, and Rocky and Freckle themselves (almost) do not consider each other as cousins, more like another version, but only better, I hope I didn't confuse you when I said all this, in other words, let's have a healthy Frekaby in ao3, and yes, I will humbly wait for this chapter, so it's ok, take your time, and yes, I have more thoughts about Frekaby in this au, if you're interested, I'll share them with you
And one more thing, there were no bruises on the Victim!Freckle, because he did not appear in the place of the Rapist!Freckle, he moved into his body, so, Victim!Freckle is in the body of the Rapist!Freckle, accordingly, there are no bruises on him, plus, Rocky still believed Freckle without this evidence, because Freckle with his behavior already proves that he is not a Rapist!Freckle, I thought I should clarify this
Also, I'm interested in Ivy's reaction to all this, because she knows the truth, so when Freckle and Rocky come to the bar (they are standing too close for cousins, but Rocky seems more comfortable with Freckle than Ivy saw last time), and they tell a false story about how Freckle found and saved his cousin and that Rocky's kidnapper was killed/escaped and stuff like that, Ivy is shocked out by this because like I said, she knows the truth so when she and Rocky are left alone, she asks what the hell is going on??? I wonder if Rocky would have told her the truth or not? Because I think Ivy would have a harder time believing in alternative realities than Rocky did
Yeah, I think there’s a very real possibility the two victim bois would fall in love after all the horror they’ve been through…whether that’s a good thing or not. I mean, it’s not like they ever really had a healthy relationship even before all the Raping. Yeah I can definitely see them getting together. It’s that pesky codependency again. Although despite being froman alternate universe, they would probably still think of it as incest, and I would have to tag it as that too. I’d like to hear your other ideas! Please share them! :3
Oh right! They switched bodies! Of course. I’m such a silly. 🙃 okay, thank you for the clarification.
I’ll have to think about that. Yeah, I guess Rocky will have to come clean eventually. It won’t make sense to her otherwise. And I’m sure they wouldn’t want to cut her out of their lives :”(
Thanks again for the ideas! They’re really good!
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Julie Bindel speaks on “Myths about Andrea Dworkin”
This speech was given by Julie Bindel at the Andrea Dworkin Commemorative Conference, April 7, 2006.
Thank you; I’m really delighted to be here. Michael has stolen some of my thunder, in that he has spoken about the myths and the lies about her. If he were here, I’d have to kill him [laughter], but he’s not. So, what can I do? I did also try, this morning, before I came here, to change my first name to “professor” or “doctor,” just to fit in with so many of you, wasn’t able to, so I’m sorry about that. I’m just here in front of you as plain old Julie.
I want to start by telling you a little story about Andrea, and it’s something that I said I would put straight if ever she died and I was still here, because it was one of the tiny, tiny injustices that really irked her.
I knew Andrea for about ten years, almost ten years by the time she died. In 2004, I had the honor to interview her for a piece in The Guardian. She was coming over to the UK, and she was primarily coming to find a publisher for Heartbreak, and it’s fantastic that this book is out today, because, I mean, John will verify this, and her friends, that to her it was extremely important. This was the book that she wanted to write. And, you know, she said that she wrote it within about four months, it just tripped off the typewriter, or the PC that I think she started to use in the last couple of years. I had read the book just before I interviewed her, and it was a phone interview because I was in Europe and she was in the States, and one story that had really struck me was the story about Allan Ginsberg. Have any of you heard about how she admired Allan Ginsberg when she was a lass, when she was young, when she was an aspiring writer, and she thought this beatnik, whatever he was, was just the god who walked the earth, and she looked up to him. She eventually met him, and she thought him strange, but okay, and through a series of events, they ended up sharing a godson. And so by this time, Andrea herself was a very famous published writer and a very famous feminist, and of course she wrote, as in Woman Hating, as Sheila shared with us today, about violence towards women, about sexual abuse of women and children. And Ginsberg had a problem with this. Now why did he have a problem with this? Because he was a child sexual abuser. Because he was a member, I think it was of the North American Man-Boy Love Association, which is what is known as a pedophile organization, and his particular liking was for 12-year-old boys.
Now this was a bar mitzvah. Now who are at bar mitzvahs? 12- and 13-year-old boys and girls. And so this particular day that Andrea got up and decided she would behave herself, was their godson’s bar mitzvah, and she knew Ginsberg was going to be there, and that very day legislation had just been clarified about child pornography being illegal. Now she was delighted. She knew Ginsberg wouldn’t be, so she tried to avoid him. And there’s a photograph, isn’t there John, of her standing with his arm around her–you know those awful photos at weddings and things, where you’re going [laughter]–and he’s there, and he kept following her around saying what’s your problem, what’s your problem, is it because of the legislation, this is why you won’t talk to me, you’re a nazi, you’re an idiot, etc. And she said, yes, of course, I have a problem with it, because I’m a feminist, and I don’t think that children should be abused and raped, which you obviously do. And he said, “Well, I’ve never met anyone with your views who’s intelligent,” and she said, “Well, you havent been out much, have you?” [laughter]
And I was recounting this to her on the phone, and she said, [husky American accent] “Oh Julie, you’ve gotta put that in the piece.” And I said, “I promise you I’ll put it in the piece.” And we then remembered in 1997 or something, when somebody from one of the British broadsheets had interviewed her, and she had told the Ginsberg story, but he was tragically still alive, so the lawyers run scared and took the piece out about Ginsberg being a child abuser. So I said, “It’s okay, he is dead, isn’t he?” [husky American accent] “Yes, he’s very dead.” So I put this in my interview with her. And then when it came out, guess what? They had taken it out. And they had something really weird in there, like, so Andrea went up to Ginsberg and she said, “I think you’re horrible,” and he said, “Well why, is it because of the legislation?” And I then said, “Well, yes, because you’re foul.” [laughter] And he said, “Listen to me, the Right want to put me in prison,” and she said, “Well, actually I’ve got a bit more imagination than that, I want you dead.”
The true story is that Ginsberg was a child abuser, a child rapist, and Andrea has so eloquently written about it in Heartbreak, and it really would I’m sure, wherever Andrea is, thrill her if you could buy it and enjoy all of it, not just that section.
So Andrea was a good friend, and she was someone whose work was very important to me, and I am not going to precede this discussion with what I disagreed with her about, because I think we’ve heard that, not everybody agrees with everything everybody says, but essentially I think what she did was, she allowed those of us who were quite radical to become more radical, and she made some of the liberals think, and I think that’s extremely important.
She was a very very clever writer, and I think this is something that we lose; when we are talking about her controversial politics, we forget the fact that she was in fact someone who was a very eloquent and artistic writer. She was a very good journalist, and what was really really sad for me, in the last couple of years of her life, was the way that she would talk on the email or on the phone, about the fact that she couldn’t get published in her own country, and it broke her heart. And I said to her, “But they love you in the UK, so when you come over, you can come and meet some of my editors,” thinking, “Hmm, would she write about different things?” These are really treading on toes here. Before then, of course, realizing that they wanted to publish her, not because of what she wrote about necessarily, that was a bonus, but because of who she was and because of how beautifully she wrote. And I took her into The Guardian newspaper, and she met these bright young things, who had maybe done women’s studies at university, but certainly are more a part of the postmodern group than the radical feminist lot, and they just thought she was wonderful, and they talked about all kinds of issues to do with sexual violence, and at the end of the meeting, they of course asked her to write for them, and she did. She wrote for various sections of the newspaper, and it would have continued, and she was a great loss, because what we needed at that time, and still need, is a voice like Andrea Dworkin’s. The fact that she did get published in the UK I think really heartened her.
One of the myths about Andrea which is really prevalent is that she didn’t hurt, that she didn’t have a heart, that she didn’t feel pain, and the nasty, horrible, foul cruelty that was in print and heard from feminists as well as male commentators, the Left as well as the Right, really did break her heart. Nothing I think broke her heart more than the fact that when she was raped and when she wrote about it in 2000 in The New Statesman and then in The Guardian, is that she wasn’t believed, but that she wasn’t believed in print. So she could bear the fact I think that people wondered if she had been raped or not, because we all hoped she hadn’t been, some of us didn’t know whether she had been or not, but I would hope that all of us with a conscience recognize that actually Andrea believed that she had been raped, and the nastiness, actually the vitriol that spilled out into the pages of the broadsheet press was staggering. Joan Smith, who is a feminist, who has written good feminist books and articles, was the first. She said Andrea must be mad, there’s something gone wrong, it’s terribly sad, isn’t it. I met her at an event, just after she published it, and she said, “What’s happened to Andrea? It’s terribly sad.” Katherine Bennett, who writes for The Guardian, who isn’t a feminist, who hasn’t written interesting feminst books or articles, who is in fact a misogynist, [laughter] she went through a checklist of how Andrea couldn’t really have been raped, including, well, she got the date wrong, the fifth of April wasn’t a Wednesday, and anyway why didn’t she report it to the police, and if she had been raped, you know, why didn’t they draw the curtains, because you would think that they’d draw the curtains because they wouldn’t want to be seen, and then bearing in mind that she understands exactly how you go and get support once you’ve been raped, how come she didn’t do that? It must be a lie. She’s totally gone mad. And there was more of this from other commentators. And the subtext was clear: Who would want to rape Andrea? Okay? That was the subtext. Now, you may think I’m going over the top. Actually a very good feminist, who’s written very good feminist books and articles, actually said this to me. She said, “Who’d want to rape Andrea?” And these are women, or these are people, who really do have an understanding, who should know better, who have an understanding of the fact that rape isn’t about sexual desire as we understand it. Why would anyone want to desire a five-year-old sexually? But five-year-olds are raped.
And so she had that, that sniping, that snidey horrible commentating all the time, and there she was, in a great deal of pain. But she carried on. And it was a time I think many of us thought that she wouldn’t carry on, and that she really had had enough, but she did, and in my interview with her, and when I then met her a few months later, she said, “You know, I thought I had given up, I felt like I was going to give up, I felt like I had nowhere else to go, but now I feel a new vitality, and I want to help women.” And that was her. That was Andrea refusing to give up, even in the worst kind of pain, the worst kind of circumstances, and the most horrible nonsense that was thrown at her over and over again.
Now I just want to read you one or two extracts from these horrible comments about her, and I’m not doing it to depress us all, or to give the impression that only bad things were said about Andrea. You could fill this room with paper containing the things that are said about Andrea which are good and better even than that, about the women’s lives she turned around, that she saved, about the men that she helped to make think about these things, about the academics, about the scholars who she influenced, about the people that she gave pleasure to through her writing and her humor.
So the reason why I want to raise this as an issue is because I think it’s up to us to know how cruel people were to Andrea. Some of us in this room were cruel to Andrea. Some of us said horrible things in print and in public about Andrea. But we really have to think, why was this allowed to happen? Why was it okay for Andrea to get all of this crap, over and over again? But then to think about how she continued in the face of all of this. I’ll just read you some brief extracts.
Now when Andrea died I wrote her obituary for The Guardian and my editor said to me at the time, “Um, you know, Julie, it’s great, um, but you have to put something in about how disliked she was.” And I said, “It’s her fuckin’ obituary.” Do me a favor. Can you honestly imagine anyone else’s obituary who was revered, some great thinker, some great male thinker, and you put in, “By the way, he was ‘orrible, did you get — he wore polyester, wasn’t it, oh god, he had a gorge,” I mean, just imagine. [laughter] So I said no, fuck you, and actually it’s the copy deadline now, so get somebody else to do it. Anyway, so it went in as it were, without the horrible bits.
But Glynis Roberts wasn’t quite so firm, it would seem, with her editor no doubt begged her to put in something horrible in the obituary in The Times. She said (this was the Mail,, the Daily Mail), “Andrea Dworkin did nothing to convert anyone remotely suspicious of feminism. With her huge frame forever clad in shapeless dungarees, she wore the opposition down with her sweeping statements that women are sexual slaves who do not enjoy intercourse, and that men are essentially rapists. She even thought that high fashion was demeaning to women (you’ll like this bit, Sheila), since it was often created by men. (Oh, that’s the reason why!) [laughter] And presumably, her fondness for shapeless unisex dungarees. She teamed these with unflattering trainers, a rumpled t-shirt (John, you would think you could have done the ironing!) [laughter] and a veritable haystack of stringy unkempt hair, and a negligent attitude to her own massive weight.”
It was quite funny, actually, after Andrea died, I went to speak about her on Women’s Hour. I waited for everyone on BBC [Radio] 4, and there was a clip of Andrea speaking, the last time she had been on Women’s Hour, and she was asked, “Well, what about your hair?” She said, [husky American accent] “You know, my hair is very curly, and it’s quite wild, but I promise you, it’s very, very clean.” So I think she’d got over it. I mean, I think she had to grow a very thick skin to it.
And you know, somebody actually mentioned Will Self. Now Will Self interviewed Andrea in the late 1990s, and Andrea really liked him, and he really liked Andrea, and he came along to a memorial event that we organized in London just last September. And he thought she was a brilliant writer. He said one or two daft things in the interview about how she didn’t want to stand up in front of him because she was so fat she didn’t want him to see that she had got fat. I mean, if only he knew how little she cared about Will Self seeing how fat she was. But anyway. So Will came along to the memorial event, and I thought, that’s nice of Will, isn’t it. And then afterwards in the Evening Standard, he’s got a little column there, and he said, “To the Greater London Assembly, where the Mayor’s Women’s Affairs Advisor had thoughtfully arranged for a memorial to be held for the great feminist writer Andrea Dworkin. The vast majority of the 200-odd present were women, and not just any old women. These were mostly radical lesbian separatists, [laughter] who eschewed so-called ‘feminine frippery.’ Speakers poured on as much scorn on liberal feminists as they did on the hated patriarchs. How curious it was therefore to observe that these women in their neutral trousers and jackets, sporting short haircuts and looking so much alike, didn’t wear jewelry.” [laughter] Something is very wrong, isn’t it. “Didn’t wear jewelry.” [laughter] Let’s continue. “Or if they did, only the most discreet jewelry. And they looked so much like, well, men.” He then went on to say that, can you imagine an anti-nazi rally where the speakers were wearing swastikas? Do you get it? No. [laughter] The nazis are the enemy of the anti-nazis, aren’t they? So why would you then come along to say, the nazis are bad people but you’re wearing what they wear, so why do we, as hating men, want to look like them? Yeah, I can see it’s gone over your head. Anyway.
A particularly good one was, I think, because myself and Catherine Viner, a feminist who works on The Guardian, had both written things about Andrea that were true, and actually that were nice about her, because that is what she deserved, so they thought they better balance it out, you know, it being a liberal newspaper, so someone called Ivana Markin? I don’t know, I think she might be in Feminists Against Censorship or something like that, but she certainly had an axe to grind. “Dworkin’s true legacy,” she wrote, “has been that far too many young women today would rather be bitten by a rabid dog than be considered a feminist.” And I think that Finn, who you’ve heard from earlier, might have something to say about that. She goes on, and it’s too boring, and then she’s back to the rabid dog scenario. “Feminism today is practically taboo again thanks to Andrea Dworkin. When you mention the word, pretty eyes widen in horror. ‘But I actually like men,’ my friends still say. ‘And I want to be seduced,’ Women of all classes don’t want to be associated with a movement defined by the likes of Andrea Dworkin. And sadly, that is what the movement, something once so beautiful and extraordinary, has been allowed to become.” That was Andrea’s legacy, she said, and we know differently.
So, that aside, I think for me, the really important legacy of Andrea’s work, and I think probably the first one to say it, the first feminist to make these connections in print, was that you cannot just talk about one type of violence without talking about another. And we’ve heard about the domestic violence industry and how it’s become cuddly, and everybody can talk about domestic violence because it’s now accepted, and it’s gender-neutral, and no one’s really threatened by it, because you see all these posters of battered victims with their bruises saying oh dear me, poor me, what did I do wrong, and can’t someone help me. What she said is, we’ve got to make sure that we advocate on behalf of the women who really can’t speak for themselves and no one wants them to speak. So for example, women in prostitution. Women in prostitution, if they’re pimped, they will, remember, have been beaten. They will have suffered domestic violence. They will inevitably have been raped. Sexual harassment is part of their job, and they will probably have been abused, sexually abused, as a child, and they will be beaten by punters. So for a woman who is working in the sex industry, she faces pretty much everything that we tend to compartmentalize. There are some women who have had everything happen to them. There are some women, through luck, or through circumstances, or just the luck of the draw about the men that they meet, will have had the misfortune to know what we are talking about on every single issue that we can bring up today about sexual violence.
The last time I saw Andrea was in the UK, last October, and we were talking about a woman who had been abused into prostitution when she was a child, and she died, and when she was alive she did some extraordinary work to bring people’s attention to the fact that actually nobody enjoys being in prostitution and it’s never a job and it’s never a choice and why the hell should women who’ve had the worst circumstances throughout their childhood be the ones to be, I think as she put it, a spittoon for men’s semen, and I said to her, why do you think that the likes of Emma Humphreys does more work to help more women than those with more resources? And she said, and you may have heard her say this before, she said, “All women are oppressed. But those of us who’ve had child sexual abuse or who’ve been battered in a relationship with a man, or who’ve been prostituted, we’re wearing very short leashes around our necks. Other women who’ve had the fortune to get to 16 or 20 or 30 who haven’t been abused, are still wearing a leash, because we’re women, we’re a class, we’re all oppressed, so their leashes are longer. But it’s always the ones who wear the shorter leads who put themselves out more, and who do the most work.” And one thing that made me feel ill about the treatment that Andrea received throughout her life, was that when she spoke about being sexually violated, about being prostituted, about being beaten by her partner in Amsterdam, about being raped in 1999, what we heard then was those not believing her, because how on earth can a feminist be raped, who knows everything to do with being raped? Surely we can protect ourselves by being feminists and by being conscious of it, and anyway shut up, because you’re a manhater, and if you have been raped the last thing we want to hear about is you and your analysis of being raped. When we have built this movement on the testimony of women and children who have been abused, who’ve been brave enough to come out and speak, and were it not for them, we would not be here today. So I really hope that we don’t treat anyone else in the future as shoddily, as horrifically as we treated Andrea.
She wrote me some emails, thankfully some of which I’ve kept. No one can imagine that the last email I had, six weeks later she would be dead, and I was wishing that I had kept every single one of them. But a little extract from an email that she sent me in March, a month before she died. She said, “You ask how I am going on. I finished a piece on disability for Guardian Weekend.” (Which was published and which I hope you’ve all had an opportunity to read, it was published two weeks after her death.) “It’s due in two weeks’ time. I think I will keep it until then, in case I remember to put something else in or it reads a little differently. You know what it’s like, small things are important. I wanted to do it very much. They wanted it to be personal, so it is very personal. I’ve never been treated with such respect by my editors, but I find it so hard to write. I just have to start earning a living again. The years of sickness have made that impossible for quite a while. I am still working on the book I wanted to do on American literature. I will not be going to the conference in Chicago on pornography. I have mixed feelings about it. It takes a lot of pressure off me.” (This is a conference that she was invited to that disinvited her because they could not afford to go over with someone who could assist her. She was badly disabled at that stage.) She said, “It means the pressure is off me, because I don’t really have the energy. On the other hand, I feel as if the conference wouldn’t be happening at all if not for my work over the last 30 years. So it’s a mixed bag. Certainly better for my health. I feel strongly that it will be a good conference.” And then she said, “Please make a formal complaint about the fact that I wasn’t invited.” Which I did. [laughter] So fighting to the end. “For the rest, I find myself easily exhausted and still have trouble concentrating on my work. Two hours and I’m done. This is very distressing to me, but I fought very hard for those two hours and I try to honor them, berating myself for not being able to do more. That said, I feel a new beginning.”
So I think what we have to take away from today and from the work that Andrea did is that were she still here now, she would still be fighting. There would be none of this nonsense about how she wants to retire, and she’s burnt out, and she’s had enough, and let the young women do it. She would have continued. And so I think it is up to us. Some of us care about it, some of us don’t, some of us are passionate, some of us are not, but we can be absolutely sure that we’ll wake up tomorrow and men are still raping and abusing women, so unless we do something about it, they’ll continue unabated. And I’m sure that’s what Andrea would have wanted, for us to continue.[applause]
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Oh dear I think I should clarify; the upcoming questions about Sam’s Story and Another Side is also another “how would you imagine this” questions like the crossover one; so I don’t know if you would be willing to do that considering the burnout from the Mandy/Wonder Woman crossover ask.
I know you said the crossover is delayed because of personal problems, but out of curiosity could you give a hint on How big will this rewrite be exactly? I figured there would be only some mild changes with 3 of the villains dropping out after Freddy’s arrival, do you plan on going more than that?
Another thing- is it okay if some days I ask “simple” questions that you probably don’t need to think of too deeply (like say, what would Mandy’s favorite band be?) in the midst of some of the other stuff you’re doing (like the crossover prompt for example). I can accept if you’re not feeling it.
Nia:
I don’t mind sharing my thoughts about Sam’s Story: Another Side, but it would be better if I were to answer more simple questions, just so that I can get back in the groove of things. The only reason why I was not able to complete the Kingdom Hearts Revived: Redux (KHR:R) prompt, regarding Mandy and Diana (WW) , is because of the issues I had to tend to in my daily life. Those should be over until June, and so I’m good to write now.
Kingdom Hearts Revived: Redux (KHR:R) should not be a long-winded response. I’m still piecing the story together and trying to make sure Mandy and Diana’s plot fits in well. However, I have an idea of what I am going to write. It’s similar to what I wrote before, but of course, I’ll be more detailed. 😄
Does this sound right to you?
Mandy survives the destruction of her college and activates a dormant power as a result.
Diana (aka “Wonder Woman”) and Mandy will meet and become friends. They will go on many adventures, including trips to Themyscira, where Diana reports information to her mother and the two of them just relax.
Mandy is also “mentored” by Diana. She has a lot of emotional blockages stemming from present and past experiences. Mandy struggles with her sexual orientation, authenticity, and worthiness, struggles that need to be resolved if she were to truly become powerful. Her friendship with Diana facilitates that growth.
#kingdom hearts revived: redux#wonder woman#dc comics#mandy#totally spies!#sam's story: another side
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Okay, everything is in place for my selfship with SOLARIA now!~
As a reminder, my tag for her as a character is “love: voice of a goddess (SOLARIA)”. However, the tag for my selfship with her is “selfship: a song that shines eternal (SOLARIA/seralune)”, since I decided that the name of this selfship is “a song that shines eternal”.
From that tag, you can see that my self-insert I’ll be using to selfship with Sol is called Seralune; she is a fellow vocalsynth (specifically an UTAUloid, because I’m hoping to be able to record a voicebank for her!) with a celestial theme that complements SOLARIA’s sun goddess theme. At the moment, my tag for her is “self-insert: starless sound (seralune)”, but that may change as I develop her more - I have some vague ideas for character concepts, but not much is concrete yet, especially given the nebulous nature of vocalsynth selfshipping in terms of establishing actual story.
I hope all this makes sense - please feel free to filter out any of the relevant tags as desired. Tomorrow is the day that SOLARIA’s voicebank is actually releasing to the general public, so I’m very excited to see what people are able to make with her in the future ^-^
#a call from the void#heart of the void#selfship#selfshipping#love: voice of a goddess (SOLARIA)#selfship: a song that shines eternal (SOLARIA/seralune)#can I type this normally I wonder#self-insert: starless sound (seralune)#that’s using the normal hyphen so hopefully it does actually still work#vocalsynth selfshipping is a tricky sort of thing because everyone has their own sorts of interpretations of how the whole system works#I tend to think of them as actual singers who work with producers to create songs#logistics#oh also to clarify: I’m okay with sharing her!! that’s how things are for the moment
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PURE [5] - Corpse Husband x Fem!Reader
A/N: It’s been a while.
part 1
part 2
part 3
part 4
PURE [5]
“Did you guys find anybody?” Felix’s voice sounded out when the man repeated the same question for what seemed like the third time since he joined the call. The number of players showed 7 of them, which meant that they were still missing three people. Sure, they could start the game now, but it would be way more enjoyable and funny with a full lobby.
“Yeah, Toast will be here any moment. “Sykkuno replied right away. “He just texted me; he should join us in a few.”
“Cool. Anyone else?”
“I think Corpse was also supposed to join us, right? Not sure though why he isn’t here yet.”
“Oh, yeah, Corpse will be here soon too!” Jack suddenly chimed in with an explanation. “He said he needed to take care of something first, but he’ll be here before we start.”
“Great. But that means we’re still one person short.” Felix hummed when Toast’s little astronaut appeared in the lobby “Hey Toast."
“Hey man.”
“Do you have anyone coming?”
“I’m afraid not. I asked MrBeast, but he’s busy, so...”
“Well then, we can just start when Corpse is here, and maybe we’ll find someone in the meantime?” Dave suggested, earning a few hums of approval from the other players.
“Yeah, I think that’s the best option...” Jack agreed. But then his voice blared out in everyone’s headphones with excitement. “Ha! Corpse is bringing someone!”
“Who?”
“I dunno, he just texted me he has one coming and that’s all.”
“Hm, all right. Let’s wait then.”
***
Corpse fidgeted with his phone, glancing between its screen and the chat in his stream. People were already asking countless questions, but rather than answering them, he was waiting for Y/N to call him. He was nervous - the girl still hadn’t commented on his request.
The idea to invite her to the lobby wasn’t spontaneous. In fact, he’d been thinking about it for quite some time now, but never found the courage to actually ask if she would like to join them for the game.
It’s been almost a month now since that memorable phone call. A month since Y/N last played with her friends; a month since she considerably reduced her social media usage.
Sure, she was still active on her youtube channel, but not as much as before the whole haters situation. No matter how hard she tried to just ignore them and simply continue her career, she just couldn’t. There were still these nagging thoughts at the back of her mind, reminding her of all those people and their comments, their messages. It seemed like a good idea to take a short break and sort everything out.
Her fans understood it. They were obviously sad that her videos weren’t as frequent as before, but everyone knew what the situation looked like and that Y/N needed some time for herself.
Her audience knew it, and so did her friends. Especially Corpse.
The man kept his word and talked to the girl whenever she wanted to. Which, in the end, was almost everyday. Although at the beginning their conversations mostly focused on her current problem and dealing with it, their topics broadened over the time.
At one point though, Y/N started worrying that maybe she’s annoying him with her so frequent calls. She thought that she shouldn’t bother him that much - even if talking to him was what really helped her cope with her problems. He already had enough on his plate, and sharing her own concerns with him suddenly seemed like a very selfish thing to do.
But she quickly realized how wrong she was for thinking like that. When one day she didn’t call, figuring out that she should stop troubling him with her own issues, she was very surprised when Corpse reached out to her himself. He expressed how worried he got when she didn’t call, and when she explained what was the reason, he spent the next fifteen minutes lecturing her that she should never think she’s bothering him.
From that day on, they talked every single day. And they talked about almost everything.
Corpse enjoyed their late night-talks more than anything. He liked to listen to Y/N talk about the things she finds exciting, her hobbies, and her dreams. Hell, she could talk about what she ate for breakfast, and he would still listen with interest.
And even though they haven’t seen each other in person, even though she still hasn’t seen his face, they managed to get really close during those past weeks. For an outside observer (who also didn’t have access to Twitter) they would seem like a couple of very good friends.
But not for Corpse.
He couldn’t pinpoint when exactly did it happen. They were talking one evening and Y/N was telling him about the TV series she had finished watching recently. He listened intently and watched as her facial expressions changed from excited to frustrated, as she was enumerating everything she liked and disliked about the series finale.
And then he suddenly got this weird feeling in the pit of his stomach, and simply couldn’t take his eyes off her.
He tried to play it off and act as if nothing changed, but he couldn’t stop his heart from doing backflips whenever she laughed at one of his dumb jokes or called him partner. It was still a running joke between them and among the group of their friends, but there was something in the way she said it that made him instantly smile like an idiot.
He also started paying more attention to the hashtags on Twitter and Instagram. #PartnersInCrime was still rather popular, even though it was a month since anyone last used this phrase on stream. Corpse also found out that #Y/Nforthebride was trending for some time; he even managed to stumble across a few fanarts.
There was this urge to send them to Y/N, but he was too nervous that it would make things awkward between them... After all, he didn’t know how she felt about that whole shipping thing.
That’s why he decided to just leave things between them as they are, and be happy that he’s at least her friend.
Corpse nearly jumped out of his skin, when he was brought back to reality by the sound of an upcoming FaceTime call. Y/N’s photo appeared on his screen, her smiley face which he had assigned as her contact photo. His lips corners curled up in a smile almost unwittingly.
“Hey Y/N/N” he said after answering the call.
“Hi Corpse” she smiled softly upon hearing his voice. Although the screen on her side was dark, she didn’t mind not seeing Corpse’s face. She respected his wish to remain faceless and enjoyed their conversations anyway.
“Whatcha doin’?”
“Just editing the new video. I guess I’ll upload it in the morning... but I’m not sure yet.”
“Well let me know then, I wanna be the first one to see it.”
“Sure thing, Corpse” she chuckled, lowering her gaze bashfully. Corpse just looked at her face for a moment, unable to stop smiling to himself. Then he remembered why they were talking in the first place.
“So... have you seen my text?” Y/N sighed at his question but nodded her head slowly. “And what do you think?”
“I don’t know, Corpse...” she ran a hand through her hair in a nervous gesture. “...if that’s a good idea, I mean.”
“Well, it’s been a while. No pressure though, if you don’t wanna play then it’s totally fine.” he quickly clarified. “I just thought it would be fun if you joined us, even if just for a moment. I’m sure everyone would go crazy.”
Her smile widened slightly at his words, but she still didn’t look convinced. Sure, it was tempting to join them. She wanted to do it each time Sean or Felix bombarded her with messages and codes to the lobby, both inviting her to join the group in the game. But then she remembered how people reacted to her appearance in their streams... and suddenly it didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore.
“We’re gonna play on Polus...” he added after a moment when she still didn’t say anything. “That one map with the planetary base... there’s a lava pit, y’know. Just saying...”
She laughed wholeheartedly at his words, remembering their last game when Corpse jumped into the lava for her.
“Sykkuno’s gonna be there as well” Corpse continued. “And I promise I won’t kill you this time.”
“Even if I’m the last player alive?” she joked.
“Even then, Y/N.”
Corpse stifled a laugh, as she cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes slightly as if trying to spot him in the darkness.
“Are you streaming, Corpse?” she then asked.
“Not yet. I’m gonna start the stream as soon as you say yes, though.”
“Oh c’mon” she laughed at his words “That’s emotional blackmail!”
“Maybe. Is it working?” he asked.
Y/N let out a heavy breath and ran a hand down her face. Corpse watched in anticipation as she seemed to have some internal battle with herself. He hoped that she’s gonna agree, he really missed playing with her.
“All right, then.” she suddenly said, and his breath hitched in his throat. “I’m gonna stay for a few rounds I guess...”
“Wait, really?” he asked, a smile on his face only widening.
“Well, yeah, partner.” she replied, which made his cheeks go warm “Your imposter techniques haven’t been very effective lately... Someone needs to help you out, or you’re gonna lose your title of the king of the Imposters.”
“Oh, is that’s how it is now?” he laughed in fake shock. “I wouldn’t have to worry about losing the title if my accomplice hadn’t left me all alone!”
“All right, all right.” she giggled at his accusations. “Your accomplice is on her way to support you.”
Corpse smiled even wider at the sound of her laughter. Her eyes shined with happiness when she was giggling, which only brought out their E/C color. The fact that his stupid babbling was the reason for her smile was making him feel extremely proud of himself.
“But just so you know... I still have no idea how this map works, so I’m afraid I’m gonna need you to guide me around it...”
“Y’know you could as well just say you want to hang out with me...”
“Corpse!” she laughed, her cheeks blushing in embarrassment.
“Just kidding Y/N” he chuckled at her reaction. “Of course I’m gonna guide you, don’t worry.”
“Okay then...” she said after a moment, looking at the screen again. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Will you send me the code, please?”
“Sure I will, Y/N”
“Okay. See you later, partner” she smiled brightly.
“See you, partner.”
When Y/N ended the call, Corpse let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He sighed in relief and ran a hand through his hair, before moving to sit behind his desk.
It was only after he started the stream that he realized he was blushing. Not only because Y/N would join them, but because there was also another thing he wanted to ask her about, but didn’t find the courage to yet...
***
By the time Y/N turned on her computer and started the game, Corpse has already sent her the code, and there was a Discord invite waiting for her as well. She bit her lip nervously as her heartbeat quickened.
Was she nervous? As hell.
She did everything she could to avoid being in unnecessary spotlight since she started receiving those hate messages. Perhaps escaping the problem wasn’t the best solution, but it definitely was a comfortable one. People wouldn’t have a reason to hate on her if she disappeared.
But then she couldn’t say no to Corpse. And truth to be said - she really missed playing with her friends. From what she’d seen on Twitter, the lobby would be filled with those she’d already played with, so she wasn’t that nervous before the game. What she was nervous about though, was how people would react.
Accepting Corpse’s request was something she did due to the sudden rush of courage. And now there was no coming back.
She knew Corpse would understand if she changed her mind... but she heard how excited he was when she had agreed. She couldn’t do it to him.
So, once she’d taken a deep breath and put her headphones on, Y/N accepted the invite and braced herself for the inevitable chaos that was bound to take place in the call. She decided to wait with joining the lobby though - at least until they realize she’s with them.
“..the fuck you’re talking about?!” Felix’s voice was the first thing she heard, which made her roll her eyes with a smile. “It’s not my fault I sound like that! At least I don’t have a liar voice like Rae!”
“HEY!” the girl yelled “I don’t have a liar voice!”
“You do, you’re using it even now!” Jack argued, much to Rae’s dismay.
“What is going on here” Corpse’s deep voice sounded out suddenly.
“Oh, you’re here! Finally” Sykkuno immediately welcomed him with his always happy voice.
“Yeah, sorry that I’m late guys.”
“No worries, man” Pewdiepie spoke up again. “We were just talking about playing the voice card and that you’re basically the only one who can do it.”
“Not fair at all!” Rae chimed in, making Corpse chuckle.
“The voice card...” he hummed after a moment, before adding. “I wouldn’t really say I’m the only one though...”
“Well who else then? Everyone else either starts laughing or have a liar voice” Dave asked, and Rae scoffed at the last words.
“Well what about my guest?”
Y/N inhaled sharply, realizing that now she should probably reveal herself.
“Oh, right! Who you’re bringing man?” Sean asked with curiosity.
That’s when Y/N typed in the game code, and her white astronaut appeared in the lobby.
“Wait, who’s- HOLY SHIT” Sean all but yelled, when realization hit him. Y/N laughed loudly at his reaction, and her voice only seemed to prove to everyone that she really was there.
“KIDDO WHAT THE FUCK” Felix reflected Jack’s response, yelling over his friend.
“Oh my god, hi!”
“What a surprise!” Y/N managed to catch Sykkuno’s words. “It’s so amazing to have you here, Y/N/N!”
“As I live and breathe.” another voice spoke up, and Toast’s little astronaut came face to face with her white bean. “My lifelong nemesis. Back here snap my neck again, huh?”
“Yeah, happy to hear you too, Toast” Y/N giggled at his words, then she adressed the whole group. “Hi guys.”
“Okay I did not expect that in the slightest” Sean laughed happily “You’re here kiddo!”
“I am” she smiled from ear to ear, even though they couldn’t see her.
“Wait- Corpse, is that the thing you had to take care of?” her best friend asked Corpse with suspicious voice.
“Well...” he trailed off and cleared his throat, making everyone laugh.
“That’s so great Y/N! We missed you so much!” Rae thundered over the bickering of the boys. “The game hasn’t been the same without you...”
“Agreed. I suddenly stopped dying.” Toast commented, making her roll her eyes with a laugh.
“I don’t know if I should be happy or fucking scared right now.” Felix laughed nervously. “With Corpse and Y/N? We’re fucked now, guys.”
“I promise I’ll go easy on you, I haven’t played in so long I think I forgot all my strategies...”
“Yeah, sure.” Toast’s forever suspicious voice made her smile wider. “Just don’t kill me in the first roung, okay? I won’t vote you off just stay the fuck away from me you little murderer.”
“Okay, I promise I won’t kill you...”
She couldn’t stop herself from laughing, and the smile remained on her face even when they started the game. It only seemed to widen, when she saw the sign Imposter on her screen.
Only to giggle hysterically when she realized that Toast was the other imposter...
And so the game went on with Y/N and Toast cooperating like perfect serial killers. Corpse did as he promised and guided her through the map, both of them being closely followed by Sykkuno. Because of that she’d just sabotage the map most of the time to give Toast opportunities to kill their friends, but eventually managed to sneak out when her two fellow crewmates were doing their tasks. It just so happen that Pewds was walking past her, and she might’ve accidentally snapped his neck...
“Goddamnit! I knew it! I fucking knew it was you!” Sean yelled once the game was over and Y/N saw the sign VICTORY on her screen, her small character standing next to Toast’s one. He was ejected at some point because Poki managed to walk in on him killing Rae, but Y/N remained undetected until the very end. Perhaps the fact that Corpse was one of the two crewmates who were left alive had something to do wtih it...
“That was rude” Pewds said in a whiny voice, clearly referring to their encounter which led to his death. “I was just happily walking around, doing my tasks like a good crewmate, and then boom! Y/N happened”
“I would say I’m sorry... but I’m really not” she laughed, making Felix gasp in shock.
“That’s what happens when you work with Toast!”
“Good game, Y/N. That was amazing” the man in question said appreciatively.
“Will you finally forgive me for killing you that one time if I say that being imposters with you was cool?” she laughed nervously.
“Actually... Yeah, I guess we can bury the hatchet now. AND we should team up more in the future.”
“Great!”
“Excuse me, what?” Corpse’s voice made the whole lobby laugh. “I don’t remember us cancelling our partnership, Y/N.”
“Corpse...”
“Are you trying to steal my accomplice from me Toast?”
“Well she’s a great partner in crime after all...” Toast deliberately used the phrase, making Corpse gasp.
“Hey! She’s my partner! Find yourself your own, Toast” Corpse joked, making Y/N laugh bashfully, her cheeks warming up at his words.
“Yeah yeah, I remember, don’t worry man. No one’s gonna take your partner in crime away from you...” Toast’s teasing voice made them all laugh, Corpse and Y/N included.
For the next few rounds Y/N played as a crewmate, running around the map with either Corpse or Sykkuno and doing her tasks. During meetings they joked and laughed, and for a moment, she stopped thinking about what people watching her friend’s streams might think about her presence. After all, there was at least a small chance that they didn’t think about it at all, and simply enjoyed watching their favoirte youtubers. Just as she enjoyed playing with her friends.
Oh, and by the way, Corpse kept his promise and didn’t kill her even when she was the last player alive...
It was soon time when everyone started slowly leaving the lobby, having played for over three hours. Y/N also said her goodbyes to the others and promised that she’d join them to play a game called Raft next week.
When she turned her computer off and threw herself on her bed, Y/N immediately grabbed her phone to call Corpse. He answered right away.
“Well hello, partner...” she rolled her eyes with a smile when he accented the last word. “Or should I say, traitor, instead?”
“Corpse... you know I would never betray you...”
“Well how can I be so sure, now that I know how cool it is to be imposters with Toast?” she knew he was joking, she could almost hear the smile in his voice.
“Not nearly as cool as it is with you, Corpse” Y/N grinned from ear to ear when Corpse scoffed.
“I spare your life so many times and that’s what I get in return? You cheat on me with Toast?” he said in disbelief “I’m disappointed, Y/N, I really am.”
“I would never!” she laughed through her words, even though her cheeks were now red because of Corpse’s words. “You’re the best partner in crime, Corpse, I wouldn’t trade you for anyone else!”
Not only in the game, she thought.
“Hmm, alright. Let’s say I believe you.” he said after a moment of thinking.
“I mean it, Corpse...” Y/N said after calming down from her laughter. “I... I really wanted to thank you.”
“Thank me? For what?” he asked, genuinely surprised.
“Well, first of all for inviting me to today’s game... I really had lots of fun, it was great to play and talk with the others. And I wouldn’t be in the lobby if not for you...” Y/N mumbled, before verbalizing her previous thoughts. “And I also wanted to thank you for just... you know... being my friend. My real life partner in crime. I just wanted you to know I’m really glad I met you...”
Corpse was silent for a good few moments, and Y/N started panicking that maybe she said something wrong, or maybe he found her spontaneous confession funny, or worse, dumb. She was almost ready to somehow laugh it all off, when his voice cut her off.
“Thank you, Y/N. It really means a lot to me too.” he sounded like he had some troubles with speaking, which made Y/N furrow her brows in worry.
“Is everything okay, Corpse?”
“Yeah, I...” he stuttered, then laughed nervously. “I just didn’t expect that and... yeah. It’s not something I hear on a daily basis, especially from someone like you.”
Someone like me?
“But what you said... it’s mutual.” he said after a moment, and Y/N couldn’t stop herself from grinning like an idiot. “You’re the best partner in crime I could ask for. And not only in the game.”
She could as well just pass out there and there...
“So uhm... there was one thing I wanted to ask you...”
“Yeah?”
“I was wondering if maybe... you know, if you’d have some time... and if you’d want to of course... would you maybe like to visit me here in San Diego?”
Yeah, passing out seems like a good idea.
***
This is not the last part.
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#corpse husband#corpse imagines#corpse x reader#corpse husband imagine#corpse husband x reader#youtubers x reader#imagine
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summary: when felix suggests you and hyunjin have to fight so that the winner would sit in felix’s lap, it is painfully obvious neither of you want to win or lose. you want to share...
pairing: felix x reader x hyunjin
genre: fluff, humour, friends to lovers, suggestive
warnings: swearing, friendly banter, kissing, inappropriate jokes, pet names
author’s note: this is just a little something inspired by this reel and me having the thought ¿por qué no los dos? i don’t wanna fight hyunjin, we can share felix’s lap
word count: 1k
part two
You had been friends with Felix and Hyunjin for quite some time. Enough to know that both of them were highly likely to mess around with you, as well as each other. At first, you tried to play it off as just a thing they liked to do. All friends flirted occasionally, right? But at one point, the whole thing grew quite uncomfortable. Not because you didn't enjoy their teasing, but because you did.
In fact, you enjoyed it so much that whenever you walked into a room with these two, you were overwhelmed by the strong aura of sexual tension. It was too unbearable. But of course, you couldn't admit that you had a big, embarrassing crush on not one but two of your best friends. If they rejected your feelings and revealed that they were just playing without any intentions, it would be far too mortifying to continue seeing them. And you didn't want your confused heart to endanger the strong bond you had with Felix and Hyunjin.
So, one night, as you were having drinks at their place, Felix suggested something so out of the blue and exactly matching your emotions that it made you believe some almighty gods of love had answered your silent prayers:
"Whoever wins gets to sit on my lap."
"Huh?" you mumbled in shock.
"You and Hyunjin. Fight. Winner gets my lap," Felix clarified randomly.
"Are you serious?" you exclaimed. "Look at Hyunjin's muscles! I'm practically dead meat in a physical fight, this is so unfair."
"You sound very eager to win," Felix smirked.
You blushed but didn't bother denying it.
"Our darling Y/N is right. This would be extremely unfair towards her," Hyunjin, surprisingly backed you up.
"Thank you, Hyun!" you grinned triumphantly.
"Do you have a better idea?" Felix groaned, obviously very intent on the night ending with someone in his lap. "Chess?"
"Now, this is something I excel at, but it would be a bit difficult for Hyunjin to win against me. No offense," you explained.
"None taken," he smiled. "Thanks for taking my abilities into consideration."
"For you, always," you winked at Hyunjin.
"Jeez, if neither of you want to sit in my lap, you could have just said so," Felix complained loudly.
"We didn't say that," Hyunjin responded shyly.
"How about rock, paper, scissors?" Felix kept throwing suggestions. "It's neither a physical fight nor a game that requires brain power. It's simply a matter of luck."
You couldn't argue with Felix's logic but you also didn't want to either lose to Hyunjin or defeat him. Somehow both options sounded unpleasant to you.
Fortunately, before Felix could notice, you saw Hyunjin mouthing the word rock to you. You were a bit confused but decided to trust him and play along. Your intuition was telling you that just like you, Hyunjin didn't want either of you to win or lose. For whatever reason...So, once you started the game, you were not surprised to find out both of you played rock. Six consecutive times. What are the odds? Felix was losing patience and put an end to the game.
"What's up with you two? Why do you have no competitive spirit?"
"I just don't want to fight Hyunjin," you admitted. "We could...share your lap if you're okay with that."
"You know what they say? Sharing is caring," Hyunjin added.
"Oh...okay," Felix murmured.
You and Hyunjin exchanged a strange look as if to ask each other: "Is this really happening?" But before you could second-guess it, you both took advantage of the opportunity at hand...well, at legs, but whatever, each of you sitting on one of Felix's thighs. Not doing anything, just staring at him and occasionally, one another. God, this was so painfully awkward, you had no idea how you'd ended up in this position. Now you were certain...friends generally didn't do that sort of shit.
"This was a stupid idea," Felix mumbled nervously.
"Why do you think that?" you asked.
"Because...you guys are just sitting there."
"Do you want us to do something?" you needed to know.
"Do you want to do something?" Felix mirrored your words.
"This could go on forever," Hyunjin rolled his eyes and literally shoved you closer to Felix's face and before you could register what was happening, your lips were on his and the two of you accidentally shared what was probably the shortest kiss in history. Immediately, you drew back as if burned and started apologizing:
"Sorry, I just..."
"Yeah, and I..."
"Fucking idiots," Hyunjin hissed and the next thing that took place was him wrapping his arms around Felix's neck and attacking his mouth passionately. You had to admit, watching this unfold was far more exciting than you could have ever emagined. But before Felix could find the time to fall into a state of bisexual panic, Hyunjin had promptly decided you were his next victim. Taking control of your lips, Hyunjin kissed you like he was starving. By the end of it, you were gasping for air. You simply blinked in shock, brain refusing to process what was going on.
"Um...what?" you whispered. Felix was obviously sharing your flustered feelings.
"Let me make this easy for you, angels," Hyunjin replied with an exasperated sigh. "I like you both. You like me and each other. We're good?"
You and Felix nodded in a daze.
"Shit, why did I fall for the biggest dumbasses in the universe?" Hyunjin chuckled.
"Hey!" you cried out indignantly. "I'm better than you at chess so who's the dumbass here?"
"We'll see if you act so high and mighty when I fuck your brains out," Hyunjin threatened.
"Whoa, there!" Felix intervened. "I think the kissing and lap-sitting business was enough excitement for one night."
"You're the one who suggested the lap-sitting business, Lix. Don't pretend you're all innocent," Hyunjin groaned.
"Okay, fine, I may have hoped one of us would finally confess but I didn't think it'd get this far."
You suddenly started laughing.
"What's so funny, doll?" Hyunjin asked.
"It's just that...Earlier today I had been wondering how to bring up the way I feel for you two, but you beat me to it. I guess we have to thank Felix for his genius idea."
"Genius? He would rather see us fight for his lap like it's the fucking Iron Throne than just say that he likes us," Hyunjin joked.
"I can say it now. I like you," he smiled shyly.
"Yeah, well, get in line," you teased.
To be continued...
#stray kids#felix#hyunjin#felix x reader#hyunjin x reader#stray kids fluff#felix fluff#hyunjin fluff#hyunlix#skz fic#lee felix#hwang hyunjin#writing
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