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hitlikehammers · 2 months

Text

take the call

rating: t ♥️ cw: off-screen car accident (but EVERYTHING IS FINE), hurt/comfort, softness ♥️ tags: established relationship, married steddie, hurt/comfort, rockstar Eddie/teacher Steve, Steve's heart of gold is very possibly going to be Eddie's undoing one of these days, well-worn-soul-deep love

for @steddielovemonth day eighteen: Love is terrifying (@starryeyedjanai)

set in the 00s, with Steve and Eddie having two decades of loving under their belts, now ♥️

Eddie isn’t expecting a call, any call, really; he’s in the studio, like, if he gets a call someone takes a message or whatever.

And in fairness, Eddie doesn’t get the call.

He gets a message.

“Eddie?”

He rolls his eyes kinda automatically, kinda thoughtlessly at the cut of the audio track to let the mic system override from outside the booth.

“Okay, so, like, don’t freak out.”

He’s not thoughtless at all about the way he clocks the tension in Jeff’s voice even across the speaker system; it’s entirely automatic how he freezes, how he looks up and locks eyes with his friend through the glass and sucks in a sharp breath for the look on his face: pained.

Maybe, maybe scared.

Eddie’s heart drops somewhere near his knees, but beats there so fucking hard.

“This lady called, and she said she found Lainie’s card inside the case of a phone she picked up,” and okay, okay, that’s…that’s random but maybe it’s about their assistance manger, who just got her contract confirmed and got fancy new business cards for it and has been handing them out to everybody she sees, even gave Eddie extras to pass on to Steve, maybe he can share them at the school as if anyone at even a hoity-toity private 6-through-12 school would have a reason for a card from a record label but she’s excited, and Eddie’s excited for her, and Steve loves the people Eddie works with, and not just because they’re attached to Eddie and he loves the things that come with Eddie as a given—but that’s also true, and always has been, but—

“She, um,” Jeff’s voice is filtering through again, and Eddie clocks that there’s…there’s something more to it, more than his brain’s willing to grasp just yet but his body’s apparently picked up on because he thinks the slightest breeze would knock him over and shatter him into pieces, for the tightness in his body; he’s not focused enough to count the separate beats of his pulse but he can tell it’s quick enough already, still weighed down near his feet, that counting would be kinda hard, would take effort:

“She found the phone at a car crash?”

So: the more-to-it. The thing his body already knew.

Eddie…Eddie doesn’t even need to know what comes next to know he cannot fucking breathe.

“Sounded kinda like, uh, like it could have been Steve’s phone,” Jeff is trying to tell him, and part of Eddie hears it, part of him does but most of him is white noise, is pins-and-needles, is underwater and drowning and not even fucking thinking of fighting the pull because he can’t, he’s heavy at the legs and his lungs are seizing and there’s, he’s—

“Because it, umm, she found the card because the case was broken?” and just last night Eddie’d watched Steve pop off the case and slide the cards behind with a laugh and a promise to take them with him not today—because it’s one of those federal holidays that only schools notice happening, like the post office is still open—but definitely tomorrow, never knew which of the kiddos at the Rich People School might be a budding metalhead underneath their uniforms—

“And she said the case was, um, like bright—“

Green.

Electric lime neon fuckin’ green because after three times of Eddie taking Steve’s phone by accident he’d come home with that endearing eyesore, and a kiss to the bridge of Eddie’s nose and a soft hard to confuse that, babe nuzzled against him and—

“It could maybe have just been a coincide—“ Jeff’s talking but Eddie can’t fucking hear it, not really, not when he’s letting the door slam behind him and ripping off his headphones to drop to the groundnut when he’s gasping hard enough to crack a rib, not when the floor’s gone out from underneath him and his vision’s tunneled and nothing seems real, and everything feels too real, every world ending possibility shuddering through his foggy mind alongside every heartbreakingly perfect memory blossoming up unbidden just to serve as a reminder, an underscoring of what he stands to lose, what maybe he’s already fucking lost—

He meets Jeff’s eyes without the glass between them as he grabs his keys from his jacket on the couch and makes himself take the breath that’ll fuel the voice, that’ll give him words, just one word, he needs, he fucking needs—

“Where?”

_______________________

Eddie shouldn’t have driven himself, he knows that.

Like, on some other plane of existing, he’s sure he knows that.

But on this plane, he rips past his bandmates, all the extra people with them for recording, jams the close-door button before anyone can follow him into the elevator because he happens to know this one’s quicker than the stairs even on a good day, and this—

Eddie’s shaking so goddamn hard he can barely get one foot in front of the other, he really doesn’t think he can manage ten fucking flights of steps.

He burns rubber on the way out of the parking lot, and the nearest hospital to where Steve would have been—on his day off, because holiday, he’d have bene close to home, he mentioned food shopping, he thought he might make stir-fry but he wasn’t sure, they hadn’t made a vegetable haul from the Asian market downtown in a couple weeks and they need to, they need to but Steve wasn’t feeling like going on his own, because he might not say it out loud but they both know he enjoys Eddie’s excitability when new items hit the shelves and he can’t read the language they’re labelled in so he guesses frantically until the man who owns the place takes pity, only laughs a little and explains what this spice is for, or that that crazy looking thing’s a fruit, and they ultimately buy whatever it is because Eddie wants to try it now, because he got invested and—

Eddie should pull off the fucking road; his head’s a mess, he can’t see for the way his eyes are welling, streaming, the way he’s shaking with sobs that don’t exactly burst forth, just leak from his lashes as he trembles horrifically because…

Because they were maybe gonna have stir-fry, tonight. Even without the good vegetables.

They were—

Eddie thinks it’s fucking cruel, kind of unbearably so, that his brain’s dead-set on still processing the mundane little perfections of his life as if every single one of them might be dashed to pieces, might be hanging by a thread, might be entirely fucking gone, and he, he…

He can’t. He just, he fucking can’t.

Because that the thing, isn’t it: the scenarios he’s imagining aren’t hypothetical—they’re all memories, too. Steve bloodied, Steve bruised, Steve’s bones broken and flesh torn. Steve still, too still; Steve’s skin under Eddie’s hands when he can’t find a pulse because Eddie’s shaking, same as now how Eddie is fucking shaking—

Eddie knows all those things. They’re so long ago, now, so distant but his fucking cells will never forget every single moment he saw the man he loves bigger than his own goddamn life hurt like that; be risked like that. Be lost like—

And that’s the difference. That’s what is unravelling him as he speeds through the streets quicker than he should, probably breaking more laws than he could count and definitely more than he gives a shit to notice: it’s the losing.

Because the first times, even the times that came after Steve was his: they didn’t come with the loss of so much time, so much of themselves, so much glorious life that they’d built between them, the struggles and the triumphs, the hard choices and the easy things that weren’t choices at all: everything hand-in-hand, every night spent curled around each other, all of them, all of him, inside that chest since he was twenty fucking year old, and Eddie doesn’t just not know how to be outside of what he shares with Steve.

Eddie doesn’t think his own heart can survive, if if Steve’s isn’t next to him.

Eddie’s damn fucking sure no part of him would want to.

It takes him a minute to steady himself enough to get out of the car, once he finally reaches the ER. Steady his body, but more his fucking soul because the whole of him is shaking, is crying out, is wailing unfettered and breaking because he’s terrified, he is goddamn terrified of what he’s going to find when he walks in but he has to, he has to because whatever awaits him, that’s his husband, that is the love of his whole goddamn life and if the worst is going to come for him he’ll face it like he’s faced everything else: at Steve Harrington’s side.

If the worst comes for one of them, then it came for them both.

So he’s stumbling, shuddering, but resolute in his chest when he flies through the sliding doors, eyes still swimming, unfocused but he makes himself take a deep breath—it takes a few tries, and he doesn’t quite succeed, it’s still a tremorous thing and his lungs are still in revolt, but it’s something, and he’ll take something; he has to to take something—

“Eddie?”

He almost doesn’t register it, the voice from the sick-spiral of his memories, all the love on the table to be forfeit—

He almost doesn’t register that his name’s not coming from inside his head.

“Oh my god, what happened?” There’s a flurry over motion in front of him, and he blinks rapidly to try and pin it down because it looks familiar, it smells familiar, it aches familiar in his chest but:

“What is it, what’s wrong?” and fuck, it feels familiar when a hand reaches for his cheek where it’s still damp, tacky for the tears; when another hand slides itself into Eddie’s and draws him in, a hand that fits like no other hand in this world or any other, ever—

“Are you okay?”

And the hand on his cheek turns him and follows his eyes and it takes that long for him to clear his vision properly, but now he’s just blinking so much because that, that can’t be, even if it feels in every goddamn way like it really is, but it can’t…

It can’t be Steve here, whole and on his feet and looking at Eddie with so much worry, so much heart as he tilts Eddie’s chin a little this way, that way, squints to try and see…something.

Eddie’s breath tears out of him in a wet fucking gasp;

“Am I okay?”

Because Eddie’s really not the one to fucking worry about here, Steve had—

“You’re in a hospital, Eds, that’s not usually where you go when you’re okay,” Steve’s eyes widen as he he slides both hands now to Steve’s head, holding him still and assessing…something, maybe, Jesus: Eddie doesn’t know, but he does know that the touch on him now makes his…makes his heart feel safe and he’d been fucking terrified he’d never feel that again.

“Fuck, what happened, baby, did you hit your,” and fingers are dancing gentle across points on Eddie’s skull, so delicate and careful and he can’t fucking help it—

“Are you real?”

Because he needs to know, he needs to know with words because this feels…this feels right and warm and impossible but also true, so.

He needs to know. “Am I…?” Steve’s lips part and his brow furrows before his jaw clenches in that dependable way he has of squaring up to the monster at hand, no matter the kind.

“Shit,” he breathes out slow but then he nods: resolved; “shit, okay. Okay, let’s find—“

“You are real,” and it turns out Eddie didn’t actually need him to say it. He just needed to see the flash in Steve’s eyes when he was ready to take on the world for the sake of love, the way he positions himself a little different in front of Eddie as he keeps one hand at Eddie’s cheek but then slides to brace more at his neck, purposeful, like he’s splinting a wound or something, and then a hand grabs for Eddie’s own again and: oh.

Oh yes. That is Steve Harrington, living and breathing and solid and real, because no one else protects like this.

No one.

Eddie’s heart stumbles, jackrabbits around a little, almost like a reset: like it knows as the implications sink in to Eddie’s mind that it’s not destined to break anymore.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees too easily, distracted as he tugs the gentlest bit at Eddie’s hand, toward the nurse’s station; “yeah, and we should—“

“And you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Steve shrugs it off, but Eddie…Eddie’s vision is clearing. His pulse is settling. He can hear above the static and his limbs are getting lighter.

“You’re one-hundred-percent okay, not a scratch on you, not a single thing wrong,” he needs to make sure, like, so fucking sure.

“I am fine, Eddie,” Steve turns to look him straight on, exasperated and anxious and vibrant with it, so alive in it; “but you’re—“

Eddie’s hand moves almost without his conscious consent, definitely without a plan to grab at Steve’s arm and pinch his skin because Eddie was vaguely toying with the idea of pinches himself, and maybe with poking Steve a few extra times to make sure he didn’t disappear, but apparently his brain landed on: pinch Steve, avoid confirmation bias if your head wants to lie enough to make him real just you you, because you need him that bad.

Steve startles, and turns those beautiful brilliant bronze eyes on Eddie, stretches wide as he gapes a little at his husband.

Eddie…Eddie is here, in front of his living-breathing-gorgeously-aghast husband.

“Okay, oww,” Steve drops Eddie’s hand and pulls back, leaving Eddie’s head to its own devices as he looks a little shocked, shooting just shy of a glare Eddie’s way: full of questions.

Eddie—now that the biggest one’s solved, and solved so perfect, so gentle and sure and he doesn’t have to bury the soul of him; he doesn’t have to bury his soul—but now?

Eddie also has some fucking questions.

“Where’s your phone?” seems the most relevant to start with.

Steve blinks, frowns a little:

“It got lost in the crash—“

“Crash?” Eddie’s tone pitches up to squeak a little because: Steve’s here and whole in from of him, yes. But fuck, there was still a crash? He was—

“Not mine, my car’s still parked at fucking Jiffy Lube,” Steve adds with a huff; “I saw it happen so I stopped and—“

And Eddie knows his husband. He knows his husband better than he knows himself, and Eddie’s kinda made it a point of pride for how self-aware he’s grown to be these days, in living this life and loving Steve beyond the bounds of living at all. But he knows his Steve, and so he knows damn well what happened.

Car runs into car. Steve sees it and jumps out to help. Because Steve Harrington is a protector. Steve Harrington is a helper. Steve Harrington is the best man Eddie’s ever known.

Soon as he jumped into the fray, he wouldn’t have thought once about a fucking phone.

And Eddie, Eddie just, he needs to—

He grabs Steve’s hands and wraps them around his own waist, lets them go and then pulls Steve tight to his chest and buries his face in Steve’s shoulder as Eddie winds his way around his husband, feels him breathing, feels the tickle of his hair.

“You’re gonna kill me, Stevie,” Eddie whimpers, that going tight now all over again:

“You’ve got the biggest heart of fucking gold the world’s ever seen,” he moans into Steve’s collar; “and you’re going to fucking kill me.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but his hands move up to rub Eddie’s back, rote and learned and he might not wholly get, yet, what Eddie’s putting together, and where Eddie’s head’s been, what his heart’s been through, but the first thing he knows, and does like clockwork, is to love of his partner, to soothe him even if he doesn’t know what for.

“Someone found your phone, and they, umm,” Eddie licks his lips, takes a suffering breath and tries to straighten but he’s not ready, not yet: he slumps right back onto Steve’s shoulder:

“They called the studio.”

“Shit,” Steve hisses, bunches his hands in Eddie’s shirt and draws him tighter to his chest: “shit, they interrupted,” and oh, fuck no, fuck regretting the interruption—

“They told me they found it at a crash site,” Eddie grits out, the hurt of it still raw, like just saying the words no matter where they landed in trust, just recalling those minutes that felt like full nightmarish lifetimes, reopens the tender wounds it’d left in hims; “they found it with the case broken,” and Steve leans back, then, eyes saucers as he meets Eddie’s gaze, breath catches harsh.

“Oh,” Steve whispers, eyes darting back and forth between Eddie’s, taking the whole of him in and then he exhales so heavy:

“Oh, babe,” he murmurs, fucking mournful before he takes his hands and links them behind the base of Eddies’ skull and draws him in to the center of his chest, envelopes him there whole: “come here.”

And Eddie falls into that chest—rising-falling-living—he falls into Steve so fucking fast

“I am totally fine, I promise you,” Steve breathes again Eddie’s ear, close and dear and real: “car’s fine—“

“I don’t fucking care about the car—“ Eddie tenses up, appalled at the implication that he gave one single goddamn thought to the car— “No, like, as proof,” Steve’s quick to correct him, to ease the hackles on him; “I wasn’t in the crash, but it was pretty bad and,” Steve shrugs a little then adds soft: “I keep my first aid certs up to date for a reason, I figure, right?”

Jesus; yes, okay. Steve’s savior complex had largely mellowed to a non-interdimensional-threat level with time but he’s meticulous about keeping every skillset he’d gone out of his way to learn from professionals before they’d gone up against the Upside Down for the last time sharp and at the ready for anything: even now.

Fuck, but this beautiful, brilliant, impossible man.

“I was helping, best I could, until the EMTs got there,” Steve tells him softly, fills in the gaps because he knows Eddie’s mind, all the pictures it paints for itself, and in times like these it’s always the worst possible pictures—he knows Eddie needs the slate wiped clean with the truths, blessedly softer, in this:

“Police wanted me to stick around for a statement but the girl who was driving the first car, she was so panicked and she didn’t want to go alone so, umm,” Steve huffs a little, shifts against Eddie gentle and solid and here: “she said she knew me, she was pretty desperate I think, so I rode here with her,” and of course he did, of course he did because he’s Steve; “now I’m just waiting to make sure she gets out of surgery okay,” he squeezes Eddie then, like a punctuation, and it feels so, so fucking good; “also still have to give the goddamn statement, but fuck knows that’s just hurry-up-and-wait,” he turns, and he kisses Eddie’s hair then and Eddie feels something snap in him, give way and the lingering tension spill from his frame as he gasp a little on a breathy exhale:

“I love you so much,” and he does, god: god, but how much he loves this man.

“I love you too, baby,” Steve mouths against his head and Eddie closes his eyes and nuzzles his a little closer as he puts it into words, because it feels like he needs to, it feels like in Steve’s arms like this, pressed up close to him to feel this undeniable life in him: it feels like the coast is clear enough to risk it, to confess:

“I was so fucking scared,” and the words only break a little, and that’s more than Eddie honestly expected.

“I am so sorry,” Steve bows his chin down to graze lips against Eddie’s hairline, delicate and intimate and shivery, trembly down Eddie’s spin for the best of reasons, now.

“Not your fault,” Eddie’s quite to counter, to make clear, because: “shit, you didn’t do anything, I just…”

Eddie makes himself pull back and meet Steve’s eyes, reaches out to frame his face, dear and desperate:

“I can’t lose you,” he moans a little, begs a little, says it with a bare line of something primal echoing in it, scraped straight from his bones: “I cannot ever lose you.”

“I know,” Steve turns and kisses one of his palms, and those two words hold the promise of five more they’ve said so many times, and held so true between them for so many year, through so fucking much:

It’s the same for me.

And to be loved the same as he loves is a fucking privilege; it’s heady and it’s wonderful and Eddie needs it, needs Steve, more than goddamn air.

“Sit with me?” Steve covers Eddie’s hands with his at his cheeks, and nods a little toward the blessedly-quiet collection of chairs by the windows; “while I wait?”

“Nowhere else I’d go,” Eddie says it like the given that it is, and pulls Steve close to kiss him full, to press his lips to Steve’s and drink his warmth, his breath, to feel it sink int past his heart and pump through his veins:

“Not ever, Stevie,” he speaks against Steve’s lips, all of him in it, every vow inside it:

“Not ever.”

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #hurt/comfort #established relationship #established steddie #married steddie #rockstar eddie munson #teacher steve harrington #rockstar husbands #steve harrington's heart of gold #(will quite possibly be the death of his husband holy FUCK)#criminal levels of softness #steddielovemonth #love is terrifying #these two boys have been together for DECADES at this point and it FUCKING SHOWS #old married couple!steddie #stranger things

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reiding-writing · 1 month

Note

hello!!!! could i get a continuation fic for "breaking the ice"? this time it could be like after a hard case and reader actively seeks out spencer for comfort (CONGRATS ON 1K FOLLOWERS!!! <33)

BREAKING DOWN [CLIMACTERIC]

/ˈbreɪ.kɪŋ daʊn/

spencer just wants to be there for you when you need him, but you get overwhelmed by his constant worrying and push him away, only to crawl right back into his embrace when you really need it.

WARNINGS: fem!reader, reader is mean to spencer in the beginning but apologises later, child death, guilt, reader having an emotional breakdown, angst to hurt/comfort

spencer x cold!reader | hurt/comfort | 2.4k | climacteric event

a/n: hit two birds with one stone for this one, god sometimes i forget how much i like writing characters suffering man-

this fic is a continuation of ‘breaking the ice’, but can be read as a stand alone!

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ cold!reader masterlist!!

climacteric event masterlist!!

You felt like an idiot the first time Spencer caught you crying, failing to compose yourself in the office bathroom for no good reason and looking like an absolute wreck because your brain had just decided it wanted to ruin your day.

There’d been a few times since then when he’d caught you on the brink of a breakdown, but you’d masked them better the more he tried to look into your psyche.

“It’s okay not to be okay sometimes,” He said those few months ago. “I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

That was all said and good but it didn’t mean that you wanted him to be there whenever you were overwhelmed or emotional. Sometimes you needed the space to work through your emotions on your own.

“Reid. Leave me alone.” You turn to him sharply, impatience written all over your features.

He’d been asking you about your emotions for the past fifteen minutes after noticing you turn down one of the sugary treats Garcia had brought into the office and using the small amount of favouritism you had towards him as leeway in terms of you not getting angry.

But you had your breaking point even with him.

The harshness spilling from your lips wasn’t something that was ever directed at him, so much so that it actually took him a second to register that it was him you were snapping at and not some invisible person standing behind him.

He didn’t even have time to respond to you. You were already around the corner by the time he’d come back to his senses.

He didn’t bother you after that.

At all.

There was no small talk at the beginning of the office days, no conversations on the jet between cases. He stopped waiting for you before leaving the office and picking you up coffee on days he knew you’d be late.

It threw you back in time to the first few years of working with him. And it seemed that the rest of the team was feeling the inherent ‘nostalgia’ as well, and not in a good way.

The small lingering glances and silent conversations you’d engage in had completely disappeared, and not having Spencer has the bridge of proper communication between you and the rest of the team made merging your psychological profile with the main behavioural profile for your most recent case three steps longer than it needed to be.

Because he was basically refusing to speak to you. Following your instructions to a T.

It didn’t help that it was a child case either. You always seemed to have issues with those. You worked twice as fast, but also made twice as many mistakes, and without someone like Spencer to filter your thoughts through to make sure that they were all objective it meant that your profile was lagging behind.

The child you were looking for died before you found him.

And by the time you’d reached the jet to fly back to Virginia, you’d already internalised his death as your fault.

You kept yourself together through the airport, through boarding and take-off and until you watched your team members fall into a blanket of uneasy sleep as everyone tried to brush off the emotional wreckage that they’d seen over the last few days and detach themselves from the child they’d failed to save.

You were usually pretty good at that part.

Separating yourself from your work came naturally for you, and it was something you were extremely grateful for when getting rest after a particularly hard case. But children were different.

They always were. Especially when it felt like you had a personal hand in their death.

With an internal sigh you accepted your fate of staring at the beige walls of the jet’s cabin until you inevitably couldn’t take it anymore and barricaded yourself in the bathroom for the remainder of the flight.

Now’s about the time where you’d probably distract yourself by starting Spencer on a tangent. Getting him to talk about something that was completely unrelated to the case you’d just sat through to drown out the voices inside of your head and allow you to rest peacefully despite yourself.

But you couldn’t do that right now.

Half because Spencer was already asleep and half because you’d pushed him away.

And now you had to lie in the hole you’d created for yourself.

You didn’t even end up making it into the bathroom.

You curled your legs up into yourself in the corner chair you’d bagged yourself, rested your elbows on your knees, and covered your face with your palms as the tears started a steady flow down your cheeks.

It was honestly one of the worst feelings in the world. Curled up into yourself with your hands cupped over your mouth to keep your staggered breathing quiet enough to not wake the other agents sleeping around the cabin.

As you sat there, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you like a heavy blanket, you couldn't shake the feeling of regret for pushing Spencer away.

His concern was always genuine, his presence a source of comfort even when you didn't realise you needed it. Now, in the silence of the jet cabin, his absence felt like a void.

Each tear that slipped from your eyes felt like another weight added to the burden you were already carrying.

The familiar ache in your chest threatened to consume you as you struggled to contain the flood of emotions threatening to spill over and wake your teammates.

Despite the exhaustion pulling at your bones, sleep remained unobtainable, lost in the emotional maze of regret and self-blame that you’d managed to lose yourself in to the point where you couldn’t even stand up to give yourself some privacy.

You felt utterly alone, isolated by your own actions in every sense of the word. Each passing minute stretched on for what felt like hours, dragging you deeper into the abyss of your thoughts.

You weren’t quiet enough apparently, and you hear a small shift from the long sofa to your right as your emotional breakdown seemingly catches someone’s ears to the point where they’ve woken up.

“…are-” Spencer’s voice is quiet and mildly groggy as he wakes from the sounds of your internal anguish, and he cuts himself off before getting his whole question out.

You wanted him to leave you alone.

“sorry…” He shifts onto his side until his back is facing you, not wanting to pry if you were uncomfortable with it but also not willing to watch you break down if he knew he couldn’t do anything about it.

“I’m not okay Reid…” Your words are caught in between stunted breaths and shaking movements. “I need help-”

Your words sent an ache right through his heart that made him think it was going to split in two. He can hear the tremor in your voice, the shakiness in your tone as you force yourself to be vulnerable with him. And it makes him want to join you in a fit of tears.

If you were actively reaching out like this, it had to be bad.

“I know…” His voice is barely above a whisper as he slowly turns his body, still hesitant to look you in the eyes but wanting to see your expression.

He doesn’t know if you want comfort or advice, but he knows which he’d prefer to give as his eyes land on your face and take in the sight of you, curled up into yourself with tear stains tracking down your cheeks in the cabin’s low lighting.

“But I don’t know how to…” The silence is the worst part of the conversation from his end of things – a silence that was deafeningly loud. His eyes dart between the cabin door and you.

But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t get up, or get closer. He just stays put.

He doesn’t know what to do.

“Tell me how to help you…”

“I don’t-” You barely get the chance to start speaking before your crying renders you effectively mute, your throat filled with sobs that leave your mouth into the palm of your hand as you attempt to silence yourself and not ruin anyone else’s slumber.

He can see your fingers trembling as you hold back the noise. From across the aisle, Spencer watches the way you shake until his stomach ties in a knot just from seeing you distressed.

But there’s nothing he can do.

“Can I try something?” He murmurs his words softly, like he’s afraid of frightening you further as he pulls himself upright on the couch seat to plant his feet firmly on the floor.

You answer him with a nod, too unstable to even think about trying to answer him verbally under the threat of breaking down further.

He pads across the aisle deftly, taking a seat in the chair beside your own and deftly bringing his arm across the back of your shoulders to rub lines against your back.

It’s a somewhat pathetic pat, a mix of fatigue and hesitation mixing in his movements and making his attempt at comforting you feel clumsy and mildly awkward.

But he was trying, and that was the main point.

The awkwardness really held no ground under your inherent need to just feel comforted in the moment, and you take no note of it as you turn your head into Spencer’s shoulder with your hand still cupped over your mouth as you tremble under his arms.

His hand becomes a little more confident once you accept his attempts.

He didn’t know how to help you.

He didn’t know how to soothe you.

And the thought of not being able to save you from yourself was tearing him up inside.

But the least he could do was this.

Spencer’s touch is gentle as he places his other hand onto the back of your head, fingers brushing along your hairline as he encourages you further into his embrace.

There’s nothing he should say right now, nothing he could say right now.

Whatever would come from him would be a string of false assurances he wasn’t sure he would even believe himself.

Instead, he settles for the soft touches, his gentle fingers and trying to soften your breathless sobs into something less heartwrenching.

It felt mildly awkward to be the source of someone else’s comfort — he’d usually been on the receiving end of it — but it was working, and he could slowly feel your shoulders relax under his hands, your sobs reducing to small sniffles as you calmed under Spencer’s influence.

“Breathe…” He whispered the words quietly against the top of your head, making a show of taking deep breaths that you could feel against his chest as a silent instruction for you to mirror.

The rise and fall of his chest underneath your hand was crucial in helping you slowly regulate your breathing to match his, the remnants of sniffles that caught in your throat slowly dissipating until they were non-existent.

The peak of your distress slowly eludes you as you sink down to a gradual calm, and the harsh beating of your heart against your sternum was slowly regulating itself as well until it was soft enough that it didn’t ring in your ears.

Spencer remains quiet as he continues to rub gentle lines over your spine. If he kept you him his grasp like this for long enough, your fatigue might catch up to you and make you fall asleep. And that would be alright with him.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you for trying to help me,” You air out your half-apology once you’re confident enough that speaking won’t send you down another spiral, your words muffled slightly against his shirt.

It’s a sudden break to the small pocket of silence you’d created, and Spencer’s hand pauses for a fleeting second before continuing to trace its path over your back. “You were stressed and I pushed a limit, it was understandable…”

He wouldn’t lie to you and say that everything was alright and he didn’t take it personally. It did hurt for you to be so harsh to him, but hearing you try to apologise made it feel a little better at least.

“I just wanted to help…”

“I know…” You turn your head further into his shoulder until your face is hidden in the curve of his neck. “I’m sorry,”

Your apology, voiced properly this time, elicited a small sigh from his lips, and he adjusted his arm around you to accommodate the new position you were in.

The feeling of somebody leaning on him, relying on him so much for comfort was a rather novel experience. He liked his distance, his personal space, and his preference for not being touched always trumped anything else. But this was different.

“Don’t apologise…” Spencer shakes his head against yours as he murmurs out his words. “Just rest…”

You give him a small hum as your only indication of acknowledging his suggestion, letting out a small yawn into his neck as the consequences of your emotional breakdown catch up to you and riddle your body with fatigue.

You were practically melting into him by now, your weight resting against his side, but Spencer wasn’t complaining.

It made you seem so vulnerable, so small and relaxed and different from how you usually presented yourself to the world.

Once your yawn reached his ears he knew your body was preparing to slip into unconsciousness.

But he couldn’t bring himself to move away from you.

He’d seen you fall asleep before; he’d seen the way your mouth had parted slightly right before a small snore left your lips, the delicate rise and fall of your chest as your breathing evened out and the way your eyebrows furrowed when you fell into a dream.

He didn’t want to interrupt his comfort by moving away. So he didn’t. It wouldn’t hurt to hold you for a little bit longer.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #mgg #climacteric 🪶#asks 🫶

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descendant-of-truth · 1 year

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Honestly? So much of Sonic Prime happens the way it does because Sonic is unabashedly, wholeheartedly neurodivergent, and I wanna talk about that in detail for several reasons

I think most people assume he has ADHD, and while I agree, I think they tend to leave it at "he's hyperactive and impulsive" when there's actually a lot more going on there.

For example, he lacks a filter. He says exactly what he's thinking, all the time, regardless of who's listening. I wouldn't be surprised if he does it as a type of vocal stim, considering that he talks to himself as much as he does to other people. Maybe he dislikes the way silence feels on his ears, too?

Something I noticed was that when Thorn gets on his case for this, asking if he ever stops talking, the way he says "eh, not really" sounds... almost resigned?

He could have easily said it in a more jokey way, but his tone (and the wide camera shot) gives me the impression that this isn't a trait of his that he feels especially positive about.

It's not cool or funny to him, at least not in this instance; it's just something he does, which further proves to me that it's more of an unconscious stim than anything else.

On the topic of the jungle world though, it also shows us a couple instances of him not being able to read others' intentions very well. Prim lies to him about knowing what the Prism shard is, and Thorn uses him to get to said shard - and despite how hostile they are, he takes both of them at their word.

He only realizes Thorn's intentions after she hits him across the clearing - not for the first time that day, mind you - and Sonic berates himself a little for not seeing this coming.

But it's not like this is the only time he has difficulty understanding intent; just look at his interactions with Shadow.

This is not the behavior of someone who understands why Shadow's picking a fight with him. He doesn't understand the implications of "you literally shook the world" because he doesn't know about the Weirder aspects of the explosion. In his mind, he just messed up a mountain.

Though I think his attitude implies another thing about his dynamic with Shadow that might explain why he was so quick to dismiss what he was talking about, which is. I don't think Sonic usually understands why they fight??

Shadow is a person of few words and Sonic has a hard time picking up on subtleties, that's a recipe for miscommunication already. And if Sonic's already predisposed to thinking that Shadow fights him Just Because, then of course he didn't take this particular instance seriously.

Though going back to "he only registered the physical effect of the explosion," Sonic is actually pretty consistent with understanding things that are tangible a lot better than anything else. Case in point: that One Palm Tree

His first reaction to seeing it presented as a gift is that it must be a trick. because he doesn't see the tangible point of the tree, and isn't enough of a symbolism guy to see the sentimental point of it, either.

Don't get me wrong, he is being insensitive here, but I don't think it's on purpose in any way. Look at his body language and expressions:

Even as he's getting on their case for being too sentimental, he's not unhappy or uncomfortable with them. He's just completely failing to recognize that this was supposed to be a big deal for them, so he's treating it way more casually than is appropriate.

Which is like. a classic social flub for neurodivergent folks

(Quick side note - this specific "huh" that he makes as Tails is flying away before Sonic realizes he's upset is a whole mood. I don't know how to explain it but this is Exactly what it feels like when you can sorta tell something's not clicking but you don't know what yet)

(Look at him. brain static)

I could go on with the detailed explanations but some of that would just be me repeating past posts I've made, so I'll leave it at "he is clearly not handling change well either" and link back to an example.

So anyway, this is what I meant when I said that so much of the show is impacted by Sonic being neurodivergent. It affects how we hear his thoughts as viewers, it affects his ability to understand and connect with his friends, it's why he dismisses Shadow, it's why he impulsively smashes the Paradox Prism, the list goes on.

And he's not stupid because of any of these traits, either. None of what I've described has to do with intelligence, but I've seen "Sonic is too dumb" as a reason to criticize the show, and that's just not what's happening here.

If anything, I'm actually really impressed with how well the writers have managed to portray a more nuanced take on what a character with ADHD would look like. Because he's not just being hyperactive and chatty, you can tell it affects how he perceives things too.

Which is a much bigger part of the overall experience, and it's really cool to see in a cartoon like this - and in the lovable main character, to boot! Who cherishes his friends despite his struggles to understand them! Why is it so good!

In conclusion Sonic is the ADHD king we both needed and deserved, thanks for coming to my TED talk

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic prime #sonic prime spoilers #analysis #meta #He might also have autism because there's a lot of overlap there #I mostly just went with ADHD because it seems to be the consensus #and it takes too long to specify that it could be either or both in the main post

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alastors-antlers · 3 months

Text

Why Alastor is good aroace rep after all, written by an aroace

Hello all! I just want to start off this post by saying that I'm one person who definitely doesn't speak for all aroaces, but I wanted to make a post on this anyway, and maybe some folk would be interested in hearing out another perspective?

I'm not really caught up on everything that's been said over the course of HH's creation - only more recent interviews, since I'm pretty new to the fandom. Apologies if I've missed anything, but also I do not have the time to keep up with all the out-of-canon-material backstory unfortunately. I'm working with what we've got here.

So here's the thing:

Alastor is cruel, he's narcissistic, he doesn't care about anyone except himself, he's a serial killer and a monster.

(That's the argument I've heard - please tell me if that's not really what people are going for lol, in which case I've totally misunderstood?)

The issue with aroace rep when it paints asexual people with those traits is that it aims to dehumanizes them. Sex and love are essential to the human experience, right? So why wouldn't someone be interested? Because they're self-absorbed, and cold, and detached. They don't have the capacity to love others enough to feel romance.

And sure, Alastor is a killer, and a schemer, and prideful, and a monster by hell's standards. But no matter how above it all and stylish and in control and provocative he wants to be, he's a very human character, and his aroace-ness never serves to add to his alienation. You could even say that it makes him seem even more personable.

That's what I think is the key difference.

why he's human

Alastor's whole persona is about control, and he basically straight-up says this. He's controlling what his enemies know, what his public image is like. His goal is to be the Radio Demon -- overlord of Hell, charismatic, Machiavellian, and undefeatable. He's not. Despite that smile plastered over his face (a powerful tool, huh) he's so expressive for someone who's constantly pretending.

You see his exasperation with the Egg Bois and with Charlie's ranting; his nervousness in front of Zestial; his frustration with Lucifer and the petty lengths he goes to to piss off the ruler of Hell.

You see his desperation, making that deal with Charlie. He's surprised by the idea of being vulnerable in front of an enemy like Adam, and so close to danger. He drops the radio filter and the affect out of fear, and runs on broadcast TV to let out panic and anger and bitterness in his hideout, where no one else can see him.

He has a smile that tells us he's genuinely happy to see someone; it's a little wider than his default. You see it with Mimzy's greeting, you see it with Rosie. Rosie, especially, serves to make Alastor more human to the audience. More on this later, but for now, I'm just saying that you can see that he at least seems to respect her greatly. Whatever bond they have, we know that he trusts her to touch him, to share history with him, and with support that he trusts no one else for.

He pretends, but he can't pretend it all away. Loads of these emotions aren't even advantageous for him to show. It isn't necessarily how the typical asexual psychopath acts; he's not emotionless or only capable of anger or brutality.

He's so full of emotion that it leaks through, despite all that he does to avoid it. He's not inhuman and aloof, not really - he's so, so human, even when he tries not to be because he thinks that'll be what keeps him above all the rest. In control, and free from his chains.

(If anyone wants to see images about all this, I'll make a separate post - just let me know.)

(I also have another post, talking about why Alastor is at least a little attached to the hotel's residents too, shown via conversation with Niffty. In what way? different question.)

how the aroace part contributes to that

Now, to be fair, we don't hear much about his aroaceness in canon. It's just not relevant a lot of the time.

In the pilot, Angel's proposition ruffles his feathers so much that Alastor blanks for a moment. It's a joke, sure, but that ace panic face is a pretty popular Alastor moment in the fandom - Alastor, thrown off-balance by a sex joke of all things, after so many years in Hell that he should probably be used to this.

It's a moment that makes him more approachable; his aroaceness shows him unprepared for something someone else does for one of the only real moments in the whole episode.

And the other part: the ace in the hole statement.

Rosie apparently knows Alastor so well that she read that he's aroace. That tells us about their relationship; namely, that it is long-standing and genuine enough that she gleaned a piece of real information from him. It's a casual fact that she knows about him before he even figured it out himself. It lends legitimacy to their bond - this bond that shows us a more comfortable and warm side of Alastor that we don't often see.

If their relationship is purely business, isn't this something pretty frivolous and personal? It's not like he has anything to gain by telling her about his life, but she learned about it somehow. How close are they? That's where it adds a layer of complexity and personality to his character..

thoughts on representation

Overall, Alastor's an interesting character who has a level of depth and care and personality (outside of cruelty) that asexual psychopath tropes lack. Again, the moments where he's being represented as disinterested in sex or romance don't make him seem detached. Again, they don't say "look how hostile toward relationships his behaviour is - how separate he is from our humanity". That's what bad villain ace rep is. That's not what the show's doing.

Also: I'm not saying that we need to lower our standards or anything, but even if you think it's not the best rep, I feel like we should be supporting HH's efforts here. I know that on Tumblr we have a pretty queer-friendly space going, which is honestly an understatement lol but

Aces are incredibly underrepresented in fiction. There's a whole Wikipedia page about asexual characters in media, and it's short as all hell, and even if you consider what's on there you see quite a number of one-off characters who are never mentioned again.

In terms of real life business - before the DSM updated their definition of hypoactive sexual desire disorder (HSDD) in 2013, identifying as asexual wasn't even a recognized thing. If you talked to a clinician about your lack of sexual desire, you could be diagnosed with a disorder. Only in the 5th edition do we now have a little exclusion footnote about it.

The concept of asexuality hasn't been explored nearly as much as other queer identities in our scientific research. We get crumbs in terms of mainstream representation and understanding. House M.D. has an episode where House "disproves" us because he's just so smart.

Alastor isn't going to be perfect representation. There's no such thing as perfect representation, and from the moment he was conceptualized, you could see how people would take him poorly. Still, I think he's a net positive.

He isn't a side character or a token ace - he's a core part of the show, whose personality and character motivations we can reasonably presume are going to be explored much more deeply in upcoming season(s). He's loved by the fandom. Right now, given what we know, I trust Vivziepop to write the aroace representation he deserves, because with the way I've heard the cast/directing/etc. talk about him, they're trying to do the aroace community justice, so I wish people would let up just a little on the whole "Alastor is bad rep".

Let's give him a chance, all right?

#hazbin hotel #aroace alastor #alastor analysis #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel spoilers #asexual #asexuality #hazbin alastor meta #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin #alastor #hazbin meta #hazbin analysis

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twisted-wonderland-but-gayer · 7 months

Note

May I request Great Seven Yuu with no filter? Maybe the other students are just TESTING THEM that day and with a little prodding from their darling parents, they just say what’s on their mind for the day

Yuu + The Great Seven

Note: This is different from my other great 7 fics as I don't focus on what the 7 say as much here, this also aint the canon unit yuu for this. Anyways enjoy

Cws: Gn!Yuu, Rook is clowned on cause he's French, implications of Crewel/Crowley but in a divorcee way, some cringe ig, minor changes to canon, first years are ur homies, sebek has moments where he yells in all caps cause he's cringe, Lilia knows Maleficent, Trey isn't slandered as much as he should be, Starts off Crack, turns to angst, then fluff. 6k Words

****

Since arriving at NRC, you have been playing your role well, excellent even. You played the role of a magicless, weak, and gullible prefect that knew nothing of the world you were in. The mirror said that you “had too many souls to judge” and that you had no magic, which was technically true as the magic you had was borrowed from the seven sealed within you.

It was going to be perfect. You can finally lay low and research this world to give your dear seven parents and their familiars bodies again, then make your place in this new world… or so you thought.

Right after the disaster that was the entrance ceremony, you ended up being roommates with the cat and crashed it. Fine, you could work with this. Then the very next day, the cat got into a fight with a pathetic bully which caused a statue to get burned, which then caused another person to get involved, which then caused a chandelier to break, and then you had to go off into a hidden mine to fight a monster late into the night, and you get the story.

It has been consistently difficult to pretend you had no magic, or to make the excuse that “someone else must have casted that spell”. When you eventually had to explain that you were a magician, there went the first half of your plan. Now Crowley and everyone seems to expect more from you, at least you were able to pretend it was weak, you guess. And as if it could get any worse, the seven seem to be encouraged to give these brats a taste of their own medicine and stop holding back. Oh how you would love to but putting up with everyone after, especially the number one pain in your ass, Ace, would be so fucking annoying.

The aforementioned pain in your ass poked you, interrupting the mental conversation you were having with the ensemble in your head, and you had to hold back the urge to use Hades’ flames to set him ablaze. You shut your eyes tightly and tense up before slowly turning to him. “What?” Your eyes narrow as Ace looks over at you with the most infuriating neutral expression that turns to a pout.

“Were you even listening to me?” “Look, it’s nothing personal, it’s just how I am.” Ace’s lips pursed as he raised a brow. “Really?” Deuce nudged Ace. “Hey, be nice, you know they don't mean to space off like that, it's their condition.” Deuce was truly a blessing. “Seems to me like Yuu is just a space case,” Grim snickered and Sebek nodded his head. “I completely agree with Grim! Honestly, how could you and Silver be so complacent? Do you lack discipline?”

You mentally groaned with the seven at Sebeks scolding. “They don’t lack discipline,” Jack interrupted, “Yuu says they have a condition that delays their thoughts, they need extra time to process what you said.” “Thank you, Jack.” You smile, and feel Ortho glide right next to you and look up at you. “Having a condition like that must be hard… I can't imagine my processor lagging…” Ortho trails off and frowns, “Oh but I’ll try my best to look for a fix for you!” The child beams. Epel looks over at you.

“That is one hell of an issue huh? Some days you're just as quick as anyone else but then sometimes you take forever, it's a fickle thing.” Epel hums and Ace rolls his eyes at everyone defending you. “Tch, yeah what's that about? Sometimes I even hear you talking to yourself, weirdo.” Ace playfully nudges you and you narrow your eyes at him.

Something within you snaps. Maybe it’s because of all the stress of hiding it. Maybe it's because you have to interact and pretend everything is fine to the students who have bullied, harassed, and tried to kill you resulting in god awful PTSD finally making you snap. Or maybe it's just because you want this damned asshole that has wormed his way into your heart to shut up.

“Because ‘thought processing disorder’ isn’t the best way to actually describe my condition, Ace, but it's sure as hell easier to explain than ‘I have several voices in my head judging me and telling me what to do all the time and no medication cannot stop it no matter what I do and all of your stupid comments and questions makes them erupt in a 10 minute yelling match making it impossible to hear my own thoughts!”

You sneer at them all as they look over with a mix of surprise and pity, Ortho looks like a kicked puppy. You sigh, “I’m sorry, I just…” “Nah that's nothing to apologize for…” Ace sighs, and you know he wants to apologize but pride won't allow him. “Y’know what if you just say what the voices want to say?” Deuce suddenly asks out of the blue.

“O-of course, I don't know what they say so maybe it's not a good idea but…” “Actually, it may give Ace some patience for once.” Jack gives a small smirk. “We all know he needs to learn to think before he speaks.” “Hey!” Ace huffs. “Fine then, bring it! I can take whatever you throw at me.” And the ginger smirks as if he didn't just say some famous last words.

“You're serious?” You blink. “Do you even think you could handle it?” Sebek scoffs, “I can take anything a measly human dishes out, it is nothing compared to fae!” Epel shuts his eyes in annoyance. “Oh you three don’t even know what you’re getting into, yet you’re already signing up for trouble.” Ortho beams. “Actually, this might help me collect some data to help you, Yuu!” “You four don’t even know what you're getting yourselves into…” Epel corrects himself.

“Okay okay.” You sigh. “Tomorrow, I will allow whatever they say, happen… to an extent at least…” You mutter, making Hades and the Queen of Hearts in your head boo you. Last thing you need is an Arson charge….

****

You laid down on your bed later that day as the sun began to set. “Okay guys… there are only a few ground rules. No murder, and no major property damage, small fires are okay, okay?” Before any of the seven and their familiars could respond or complain, you heard Grim.

“Who’re you talking to? Oh wait, you speaking to the guys in your head?” Grim asked, jumping on the bed and cuddling up to you. “First the mouse in the mirror and now you have some voices in your head, what other secrets are you keeping from me, hmm?” 'A lot actually', you think as you stroke Grim’s fluffy head. “You’ll see tomorrow.” You smile and your excitement made it difficult to sleep that night.

****

You got up, did your daily routine that Mama Grimhilde has laid out for you, before exiting the house with Grim in your arms for breakfast. Of course you haven’t forgotten the deal you made today at all. ‘Pssst, hey small sib~’ Flotsam chuckles darkly in your head, ‘Can I bite someone today?’ You chuckle, “Only if they deserve it.” Grim peeked up at you. “Oh yeah, you’re talking out loud today.” Grim smirks, “I wonder how Explodey-Head’s gonna react to that!”

Slinking into the cafeteria, you get into line per usual, getting a tray of whatever was free that you liked, you had to pinch your pennies this week. Sitting down, you notice that your usual squad was there, including Ace and Deuce, who usually took their time to arrive, and Ortho who usually had to deal with his brother. “Good morning.” You say settling down. “Morning, Yuu!” Ortho beams, “I got here early so I can start the data collection! I'll try to record as much as possible!”

‘Oh how precious.’ Ursula purrs in your head, and the seven’s consensus on Ortho, even if they didn’t appreciate anklebiters, is that he wasn’t half bad. “So, today you're going to embrace your issues, I SAY BRING IT ON!” Sebek yells, making everyone wince, and Epel shoots a tired glare. ‘Tell that boy to silence! I am trying to nap!’ Scar huffs.

You nervously sigh, “Well first off all, they said to shut up please, it's not even 7 in the morning.” Sebek looks offended for a moment, but a very familiar voice interrupts, sending shivers down your spine. “Oh Koebi-Chan~” A wry voice purrs, making Grim hop off of you to hide. Everyone in your head went ‘oh no this guy again.’

You honestly didn’t mind Floyd, hell, you dare to consider him a friend, but you really were not in the mood for his antics today. “Hey Floyd,” You sigh, “look dude, I’m not in the mood today, can you please leave me alone?” You ask, and your words just make Floyd beam. The seven seem annoyed, but then you feel their excitement; your first victim. 'Humiliate the boy…' Jafar whispers to you.

Floyd drapes himself over you as you eat, occasionally leaning over to try and steal a bite from whatever was on your fork. “Ehh? Little shrimpy’s feeling bold today!~ How fun! Whatcha gonna do about me?~” His arms wrap around you to squeeze around your rib cage, “Especially when I squeeze…”

“Dude, leave them alone.” Deuce says before freezing at the glare he was shot. "…Please?” He adds. “Look Floyd,” Jack sighs, “we’re trying to get Yuu some help today with an illness, Ortho is trying to get data on them, you aren’t helping.” Jack interrupts, trying to keep your condition vague for your privacy. Seems like Jack forgot that Floyd ignores reason when he finds it funny.

“Ooo~, is the little shrimpy sick?” Floyd says backing off of you slightly and poking you in the ribs. “You know Azul may have a remedy for it, you should come on down.~” “He does not, and for the final time there is nothing he can offer me that would make me want to make a deal with him. Please go away.” You warn one last time and Floyd leans in, pushing his luck in hopes to see you squirm. Ortho glares and prepares to get up and send him away but you hold out your hand to tell him to stop.

“Whatcha gonna do lil shrimpy?~” Floyd smirks. ‘Is it time?’ Hades asks, ‘Please tell me its time.’ You smile and mentally reply, ‘it’s time.’ You keep your calm smile as you look at Floyd. “Probably something my father taught me.” “And what's that?” Floyd says, grabbing the back of your neck.

“This.” Suddenly you erupted in the brightest blue flames the world has ever seen making half of the cafeteria turn to stare. Your friends at the table all jump back and Ortho flashes red as he scans you. As quickly as the flames came to be, they disappeared. Floyd pulled his hands away, waving it off to cool it down. He wasn’t burned, at least nothing major, but the sleeve of his uniform was singed and he stared at it in rapt fascination.

You expected him to get annoyed, or to maybe start a fight, or something, but Floyd was in a good mood, and he laughed. “I didn’t know little shrimpy could do that! I thought you could only summon an ember, eheheh!~ Seems little shrimpy has more secrets than we thoooought~” Floyd muses, and suddenly another familiar face comes in, one that looks exactly like Floyd.

“Floyd, I believe the prefect doesn’t want to play anymore. Come on now, we should go.” “Aww but I wanna keep playing!” “I know brother dearest, but it seems that the cruel and unwavering Prefect doesn't want to,” Jade faked a frown and sighed, “How awful, if only they could have an ounce of compassion for my poor, poor brother… However, ” Jade opened his eyes back up and smirked, staring directly at you with a twinkle in his eye. “I think it’s best to leave them alone for today, especially since whatever ailment they have seems to make them erupt in flames at any given moment…”

The eel’s voice drips with faux concern and Floyd snickers, Azul is gonna have some wonderful intel to ponder over later. You decide to say exactly what all of your fathers thinking. “Go eat shit and die for all I care.” And Jade’s eyes widen ever so slightly before the gleam with amusement, having never seen this side of you. “Of course prefect! If this ah… ailment continues to cause you trouble, please do let us know. We at Octavinelle love to help the poor and unfortunate.”

You watched the two slink off before turning back to your meal as all of your first year friends gawked at you. “What the hell was that! You never said you could do that!” Ace sputtered. “Yeah! You nearly cooked me!” Grim whines, making the audience in your head relish in their surprise. Ursula and The Queen of Hearts seem particularly amused.

“Magic like that requires a lot of skill.” Sebek ponders, “To cast a flame cloak and not burn yourself requires a lot of concentration, furthermore it requires a high amount of magic potential on par with fae. Didn’t you say you have none, Yuu? HAVE YOU BEEN LYING ABOUT WHAT YOU ARE? OR PERHAPS YOU WANTED TO HIDE IT TO SKIRT OUT ON EXAMS!” “Volume!” Deuce whines, and Grimhilde mentally thanks him.

“Oh… whoops…” “WHOOPS??” A few of the first years yell and Epel shoots you an ugly-baffled expression. “Whoops?? Whoops?? Is that all you have to say about that? You performed some of the most advanced defensive magic without a second thought and you just say whoops??” Epel’s accent threatens to slip out.

“Hey, Ortho, what's their magic reading, you look concerned.” Deuce asks as Ortho looks at the screens he’s projecting with a calculating expression. “I think there is an error in my system, I have scanned them 5 times and it says they have no traces of magic at all, but there is also no trace of any dampening magic used to hide or change that reading. Furthermore, the technique they used is no longer in use, records show it dates back more than the era of gods! That version of the spell they casted cannot be duplicated at all!” Ortho says in amazement before turning to you.

“Just… what are you?”

You blink as they all stare at you expectedly. “I'm a human.”

****

It was time for class, you said that you were gonna use the bathroom first, so the others should go without you for now, you’ll see them with Crewel. You didn’t think that anything eventful would come from it. You were wrong. This is NRC.

Coming out of the bathroom, a few Savanahclaw chuds cornered you. “Can I help you?” You asked exasperatedly to the NRC equivalents of Beavis and Butthead. “Tch, you know why we're here!” “…No, I don't.” You blink rubbing your eye, which just pissed off the duo even more.

“You made a fool out of our dorm during the spell drive competition!” “Oh god, is that what this about, dude that was nearly a year ago.” “Yeah and we came back to settle the score.” You just raised a brow and a small smile crept to your face.

‘Oh! Oh! Can I bite now? Please please please can I bite now! Come onnnn I’ve been such a good eel!’ Flotsam pleads and you hear the familiars speak. ‘Me want bite!!’ Ed whines. Raven caws, ‘Yeah me too!’ Iago agrees. ‘We wanna join too!’ The imps laugh. ‘I will… stay here…’ Diaval sighs.

You blink. “Sick em.” You say, making the two idiots make a face at you. Flotsam immediately lunges for the ass. “AIIIIEEE!” One yells and you hold back a snort as the others join, Iago and Raven both grabbing onto the members hair and pecking at them. Jetsam basically lassos around one, making him trip so the hyena trio can rough him up. The imps both transform into a blue and red cat respectively and continue to add to the looney tunes violence of it all.

The two run off and the familiars return to you, except for the eels that slither miserably in place on the smooth, frictionless floor. “Help us up.” Jetsam scoffs. “No I think I’ll stay like this a bit longer.” 'Angelfish…' Ursula warns. "... yes mom…"

…

On your way to class you run into Crowley who attempts to stop you and unload another issue for you to deal with. Instead you say what your familiars wanted to say. “You are gay.” You say, making the man just stare at you as you walk off. “And Crewel also has weirdly complicated feelings for you.”

“FEELINGS YOU SAY?? WHICH ONES?? WHICH SORT OF FEELINGS YUU?? YUU!!!” You speed walk off regretting that decision, but you admit it will be funny to see those two get divorced. Crewel deserves better.

****

Animal Linguistics was always a bit of an annoying class, and this time, Trein has invited a few of the more advanced students to the class to help you freshmen. Ace let out a deep sigh when he saw Ruggie, knowing this guy will only do the bare minimum for his grade and charge any lesson extra.

“So when the cat goes ‘mrrrp?’ You're good, usually you should try to respond with a ‘mah Ah’” Ruggie explains to your group. “Do we always have to talk to cats and mice? I feel like we should also practice some other creatures too…” You sigh.

Trein overhears you and responds. “Your birds don’t count, Yuu. They are able to speak.” You sigh. “Okay…” You sigh and Ruggie gives you that stupid shit-eating grin. “Aw, you not satisfied with my lesson?” “No.” You glare, which surprises Ruggie, unused to your assertiveness. “I can speak to animals already and I’ve been teaching these boneheads, we're fine here.”

“Yeah but you say things that don't make sense…” Grim complains. “It doesn’t make sense because you guys are not used to the accents animals have. You know what, hold on, I‘ll get some real good ones to practice on.” “Huh what are you—?” Ruggie gawks when he sees three whole hyenas appear out of nowhere along with two eels around your waist.

“They are not allowed to speak in their human voices. Knock 'em out, guys.” “Yuu! Where did you even…” Trein sighs. “Fine, fine, they can stay as long as they are well behaved…” The hyenas cackle and the eels snicker. Deuce nervously looks into the crossed eyes of Ed who winks in response.

Ace seals his lips to hold back a laugh until Banzai leans where he stares nervously. “Seduce me bro.” “AYO???”

****

Soon history class came, and once again a special guest was brought in, Lilia. The lesson went fine. Your sass wasn't needed. You kept quiet as you took a few notes here and there, and the end bell soon rang out. You stared at a particular note you took.

‘The Thorn Fairy’s wings were leathery and bat-like, much like a dragon.’

You looked down at the note, and Maleficent herself seems to hum. ‘Seems like he is still following orders years later.’ She says and doesn’t elaborate. As students begin to pack up and leave, you wave down Lilia, who puts a hand on his hip and waits for you.

“Oho? What is it, prefect?” Lilia beams as you look at the note you took in your open notebook. “I have a question about what you said about the Thorn Fairy.” Lilia nods, “Well yes, what is it? It always warms my heart to see youngsters value history.”

You look at the note again. “You said that her wings were leathery and bat-like.” Lilia nods his head. “But aren't they feathered?” Lilia’s smile drops. “In fact she lost her wings too but got them back at some point, right? Did they become leathery during those years they were gone? Is that what you mean?”

Lilia looks at you, a bit of shock in his eyes, before he quietly speaks to you. “How do you know that?” “Know what?” “The Thorn Fairy only disclosed that information to two people, her raven, Diaval, and me…” You freeze for a moment and then Diaval appears on your shoulder to caw at him.

Lilia stares at you, then at the raven, then back to you. “Diaval, is that you…? Why are you with… wait does that mean—" Lilia was cut off. “Yo, Yuu!” Deuce calls out from the doorway. “You coming?” You clear your throat and nod. “Yeah, I’m coming!” You look over at Lilia, “Thank you for your time.” He could only stare as you walked off and Diaval cawed an apology

***

Towards the end of the day, you and your first year friends were all going to hang out at Heartslabyul to study together, which you know was code for ‘get distracted halfway and hang out’. You walked down the main path to the mirror chamber when you felt a familiar presence nearby. You were being watched.

“Come out Rook, I know you're there.” You look over at one of the apple trees, and narrow your eyes when you see Rook pop out from behind it all theatric. “Très bien, Trickster! You found me, that is a feat not many can achieve!” The weirdo beams. You nodded. “Yeah, you don't need to stalk me by the way. I am happy to get to know you through talking…”

“Non non, Trickster, you say that however I believe you don’t truly speak your mind!” The French man smiles. “I notice that you are not true to yourself! Always holding back your strength and what you mean to say, when I caught wind you were going to be yourself for a day, I could not help but try to study you!” Okay wow, he has you read.

“You can learn so much more about a person through their actions, but alas, you are so good at concealing those too, mon dieu, you are quite the mystery that I hope to uncover, and the most challenging one to date!” Rook says in awe. “I enjoy a good hunt, and this one has been most enthralling!” “I’ve always been able to sense when you're there, its why I tend to slink off not long after.”

“Merde! Is that so?” Rook smirks, and you sweat, you fucked up. “Aha, I knew you knew of me! Oh how fun! I have never had such good prey before!” You narrow your eyes slightly as he continues. “Would you dare to tell me how you are able to detect me so easily? Ah– but of course, if you don't that makes things much more magnifique!”

“Um… I honestly actually don't know how I do, I just do?” Rook seems pleased, “How effortless! Tres bien! Beauté! I must hone my skills as a hunter more! Until next time, Yuu!” Rook begins to walk off before pausing and his smile drops for a moment.

“And even if it is not me, I do hope you can truly open up to somebody someday. Anyone would be lucky to have that level of trust with a Trickster such as yourself! Holding everything in does you no good! Au revior, little trickster, or perhaps I should call you le Chevalier Mystère?” Rook has that small sparkle in his eye.

“Switch it up now and then, keep it interesting.” You nod at Rook “À bientôt!” He says, and he seems to be muttering some weird French poem about strangers and beauty as you leave.

****

You were stopped yet again on your way to Heartslabyul as you passed the mystery shop. The door was open and you see Trey ponder how he’s going to carry the groceries he brought back to the dorm. “Hey Trey,” you walks in and wave, “you look conflicted, something up?”

“Ah prefect, I am actually,” Trey wears that smiley-wincing expression that Trey has when he’s in deep shit. “I'm sorry to bother you, but could you help me carry some of these bags back to my dorm? It may take a few trips but I promise a treat in return.” “You don’t need to Trey, I’ll help you even without one, you’ve been kind to me.”

Trey’s brows raise slightly and he adjusts his glasses, looking away awkwardly. “Ah, well, thank you, Prefect.” Trey rolls up his sleeves, revealing his forearms as he prepares to grab a bag. "Those bags of flour and sugar are quite heavy, so be careful— wuh?” Trey stared dumbstruck as you lifted 500 pounds worth of dry ingredient bags in one arm. “I- how are you— Is that not heavy?”

“It is, but I’m used to it.” “At least let me help—“ “No, no fine, lets go.” “O… kay…” Trey adjusts his glasses and you both walk off to Heartslabyul, making a lot of people turn their heads as you pass by.

Entering the dorm, you notice Deuce and Grim gawk at you. “Give me a minute, I’m helping Trey!” You shout as you walk everything to the kitchen and set it down on the counter. “There.” Trey stares at the pile you put down, mentally going through all the times before you acted so weak. “Ahem, thank you prefect, Ace told me you would be over in the rose garden to ‘study’ right?” “They never study.” Trey gives that 'Trey sad smile' from earlier. “You got that right.”

****

Exiting the kitchen, you look into one of the mirrors hanging on the walls of the dorm, adjusting your appearance when yet another annoying voice interrupts you. “O-M-G! It's Yuu-Chan!” Cater shouts with his typical manufactured smile. “Heyyyy!” He waves and you feel your brain melting in your skull. “Hey Cater, what's up?”

“I have a questionnn!~” He smiles, pulling up something on his phone. “Are these you?” You sweat and look over to the images he pulled up. There was one of you in flames in the cafeteria, and another of you in the hallway wheezing at the pack of familiars all jumping the two chuds. “Yeah… yeah you caught me…”

“They’re trending locally right now and you know I just have to get in on that! Mind if we take a pic?” “Go ahead.” You sigh and Cater immediately snaps a selfie of him and your exhausted self. “Me and the bestie! #NRCProblemChild #NRCConspiracy #IsekaiProtag #ExtraTerrestrialPrefectConspiracy! Aaannnd post! Thank you, Yuu-Chan, I’m curious though what was that about?”

“Those two assholes were trying to beat me up and don’t worry about the other one.” “Don't worry?” Cater scoffs as you adjust yourself in the mirror again. “Helllooo the magicless prefect, turned slightly magical, turned to god-like mage suddenly does that within a year! That's gotta be something!” Cater beams and then looks over at you and sweats.

You were glaring at him, but the mirror in front of you had several eyes also glaring at him. “… Who’s that?” “Who’s what?” “That!” Cater points to the mirror and when you turn to look it disappears. “That's me, Cater, I know I look a bit different since first arriving, but I don't think I look half bad.” You gave an insincere smile.

“My friends are waiting for me Cate, seeya..."

****

You left the hangout early, not liking all the questions probing into your mind or your past at all, in fact you left pretty upset with some insinuations and accusations of your insincerity. “Are we even friends, Yuu?” Deuce frowned. “Have you been lying to us?” Jack glares. You sigh, and walk randomly, no destination in mind.

“Why aren't you opening up to us?” Ace huffs. “I mean you trust us right?” Ace’s frown turned to offense when he saw you look away. “Dude come on! When have we given you a reason to not trust us?” You snap at him. “Our very first meeting was you insulting me and since then you have been roping me into trouble!”

Ace looked guilty there. “Yuu…” Epel frowned and Ortho shot a glare at Ace. “Human, Ace may have had a rough meeting but what about us?” “What about you? What about you?” You dragged your hands across your face.

“There's a lot about you guys actually! From Mr. Don’t-Be-Friendly-Cause-We’ll-Never-be-Friends over here to Mr.Internalized-Racism-Against-My-Kind here! And let’s not forget I-Cause-Half-Of-Your-Problems-And-Sometimes-Leave-You-WIthout-Food-For-A-Few-Days Grim! Yeah I have no clue! It's almost like I tried opening up to you all before but I was brushed off. It's almost like I have been telling you that I have been having these prophetic dreams since arriving and have been telling you about a man living in my mirror and calling out to me constantly! And everytime— every fucking time its nothing or no big deal!”

You wipe away tears. “I have been trying to talk, but nobody's listening. It’s like I’m made to understand and not be understood! I have been having to put everyone else before myself and solve everyone’s else’s problems without a thank you or someone to lean on since day one! I mean, all these blots have given me fucking scars. Physical fucking scars! All while I was being berated for being a weak little human too! And what? I still am expected to bend over backwards for the people that tried to kill me? Everything’s swept under the rug for everyone else but me, huh? No one ever checks on me, hell, I am not even acknowledged half the time when I’m in the same room as someone, so yeah I also wonder why I don't talk.”

You push yourself up and grab your things. “Wait!” “No, no! Leave me alone, for once will you leave me alone willingly!” “Yuu come on! We’ll listen.” You pause. “Yuu isn’t even my name.” You glare. “It isn't…?” Grim asks. “I have been called ‘You’ this entire time here because no one bothered asking my name and everyone assumed it was ‘Yuu’. I don't even get to introduce myself anyways when I do get asked. I am not my own person, and you never made me feel like my own person.”

You walked off. Looking back now you regret it. You’re embarrassed, you sounded so stupid. You wipe away a few tears and feel a presence appear, Cerberus. The three heads nudge and cuddle you as you sob and you can feel the sevens hands all trying to soothe you. ‘There, there’ one says. Let it out.’ Another responds. ‘Poor thing.’

“Come on, boy, it's been a while since you’ve been on a walk…” You mutter, and think back to what Rook said to you earlier. Opening up to someone was a Herculean task on its own, but someone understanding you was impossible. Even telling people the truth can get you or them in trouble…

You lead the way down to the Ignihyde dorm. No one in that dorm leaves their room anyways, it's safe for your good boy to walk around there.

***

There was in fact a certain dorm leader there, who was just as shocked to see you and a giant dog. Idia punched in the number to a snack at the vending machine, turned around and gawked at the giant dog behind him. He then looked over at you.

“Yuu? Is that-? I mean is he—? Ortho said you—… Is that the real…?” Idia sputtered, not sure what to ask first. “Shut it weeb, no ones gonna believe you.” Idia gawked even more. Since when were you so sassy? No seriously, you were also so overly kind to everyone it unsettled him.

“…Sorry…” you mumble. “You can pet him… he’s… soft…” Idia blinks and offers out a hand. One of the heads sniffs it before nuzzling into him. “Holy shit…” Idia whispers as he immediately starts fawning over the dog.

“Who’s some good boys, who’s some boys? Oh that's a great pupper! Oh yes you all are!” It’s strange to see Idia all smiley to himself, but it’s pleasant. “How did you—“ “I can't answer that.” You respond. “So dont ask…”

Idia goes quiet leaning back from the heads that licked him, his flaming locks dancing behind him. “Ortho said you haven’t been feeling well…” “I haven’t been, not for a while, I guess it finally all came out to the point where it’s noticeable…” “Ah, I feel that…” Idia trails off awkwardly.

“I know we're not friends, but I appreciate you.” Idia mumbles. “You make Ortho very happy, and I love seeing my little brother happy… He says you're like another sibling and insists we would get along. He really wants me to get to know you… and uh.. We don't have to, but… yeah… Thank you, I guess…’ Idia looks like he’s about to die, but he speaks again.

“Ortho says you make him feel human, and that you’ve been helping him learn more about how to find out who he is more than anyone else, more than me, even, probably cause you got out more… He told me you were upset, and he’s worried about you. So uh… please reach out to him?”

“Thank you, Idia…” You sigh. “Yeah I will, I will reach out to him, its not his fault, I just… I just need time to think… I don't even know who I am, or what comforts me…” “Um, I don't know what you like… but uh… actually, give me your number. I know a pretty cool site with a lot of free shows, I think there’s a few you’ll like.” He offers an attempt at a smile. “And also maybe you try a few video games? If you haven’t tried them already… who knows maybe we can play together…” You smile and open up your contacts. “Yeah, I would like that actually…”

A new contact was added: ‘Gremlin.’

****

Walking off to your dorm, you dare not go in. You don't know if your friends are all waiting for you inside, or if Grims there. You sorta don't want to deal with that right now still. The corners of your eyes catch a familiar sight. Fireflies dance through the night, coming out of the grass and surrounding you.

“Hey, Tsunotaro… Heh, maybe I ought to call you ‘Firefly’ or king of the fireflies, maybe.” You wipe your eyes as you turn around and there he is, your Tsunotaro. You both don't know each other's names, but you don't need to. Tsunotaro and Child of Man work just fine.

“Greetings, Child of Man, it’s always good to see you but…” The fae frowns, “are you alright, Child of Man? You seem troubled…” “I… Yeah I am… I just… don’t know what to do…”

Your friend carefully reaches out to you before retracting his hand. “Do you want to talk about it?” “I think I need a distraction…” “I can do that,” Tsunotaro offers his hand. “Come with me.

You have never seen so many pretty colors before as Malleus casts a few spells, making the forest into the most beautiful light show you’ve ever seen. Mushrooms glow from where they sprout, leaves swirl with beautiful patterns, and the fireflies dance through the sky against the stars. You swear you can hear music from them.

“This is… This is beautiful…” “I am glad you enjoy it,” Malleus watches as you watch each step you take, the leaves below you glowing with each step. “Are you feeling better now?” “Yeah, I am… You know…” you pause nervously.

“Yes? What is it?” “It feels like… you're my only true friend…” The lightshow around you flickers for a moment. “Is that so…” Malleus stares wide eyed. “Yeah… Just… I can be kind to everyone… but I can't be friends with anyone. They all don't really get to know the real me, you know?” Malleus stares off.

“I do know that feeling well… You are my only friend…” You pause and look at him. The lights behind you turn to a more pinkish hue. “That's hard to believe, you are a wonderful person.” “Likewise, Child of Man. I would think someone as kind as you would have much more.”

You sniff, “I’ve been helping so many people, but it feels like…” You sigh. “I have seen the hard work you have put into everything. Not a lot of people can say they have gone through what you have gone through and won. You are much stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

Malleus takes your hand. “I am sorry that others do not acknowledge that. I hope those around you soon start to realize what a blessing you are.” You squeeze his hand. “Come on, why don’t we both enjoy this light show?”

…

At the very last waltz, your legs feel like jelly, and you cannot tell if it's because of how happy you are or because you've been standing too long. You pull away gently. “Thank you Tsunotaro, for everything.” Malleus nods. “It was nothing. Thank you for being my friend.” He stares off to the sky for a moment. “Farewell, Child of Man, may the night be full of promise for you.”

The fae starts to fade away and you reach out, using a spell of your own. “Wait…” You hold onto Malleus’ arm making him appear again. The fae looks at you with shock. “You overrode my magic…” Malleus whispers, and his shocked face turns to one of awe and his eyes hint towards excitement. “No one has ever been able to do that… Just what else are you hiding, Child of Man?”

“I want to give you my name.” “Your name?” Malleus looks shocked once again. “My real name.” “Don't you know of the stories about giving your name to Fae?” “I know them, but I trust you. I know you would never hurt me.” Your expression and voice is so sure it nearly overwhelms the fae.

“You trust me that much? I could smite you with lightning in an instant.” “Then smite me.” Malleus paused and nothing happened. “See? I know you wouldn’t hurt me. You’ve had opportunities this entire time and you haven’t.” “You really want to tell me Child of Man? When I have not even given you my name?” Malleus' voice nearly shakes.

“You don't need to. But if you do, no matter what name comes out, I won't be afraid.” You take his hand, and for the first time since arriving, you introduce yourself, and you tell him your name, your real name.

“I see, what a wonderful name… I supposed I shall finally tell you mine as well.” The fae smiles, “Draconia. Malleus Draconia…” “Malleus? That's not too bad for yourself…” Malleus lets out a laugh at that. “I suppose not.” He smiles then looks off again. “Well then, friend… Thank you for everything tonight. I have not been this happy in a long time…”

“Good night, Malleus. I hope to see you again soon.”

“Good night, Child of Man…”

He fades out and you hear Maleficent speak to you. ‘He likes you.’ She says, and you hear a few voices teasing you. You chuckle and find the strength in you to go back into your dorm and confront tomorrow. Rook’s words from earlier echoes through your mind. You have found people you can truly open up to.

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sunderwight · 3 months

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y'know what, I think it's kind of interesting to bring up Data from Star Trek in the context of the current debates about AI. like especially if you actually are familiar with the subplot about Data investigating art and creativity.

see, Data can definitely do what the AI programs going around these days can. better than, but that's beside the point, obviously. he's a sci-fi/fantasy android. but anyway, in the story, Data can perfectly replicate any painting or stitch a beautiful quilt or write a poem. he can write programs for himself that introduce variables that make things more "flawed", that imitate the particular style of an artist, he can choose to either perfectly replicate a particular sort of music or to try and create a more "human" sounding imitation that has irregular errors and mimics effort or strain. the latter is harder for him that just copying, the same way it's more complicated to have an algorithm that creates believable "original" art vs something that just duplicates whatever you give it.

but this is not the issue with Data. when Data imitates art, he himself knows that he's not really creating, he's just using his computer brain to copy things that humans have done. it's actually a source of deep personal introspection for the character, that he believes being able to create art would bring him closer to humanity, but he's not sure if he actually can.

of course, Data is a person. he's a person who is not biological, but he's still a person, and this is really obvious from go. there's no one thing that can be pointed to as the smoking gun for Data's personhood, but that's normal and also true of everyone else. Data's the culmination of a multitude of elements required to make a guy. Asking if this or that one thing is what makes Data a person is like asking if it's the flour or the eggs that make a cake.

the question of whether or not Data can create art is intrinsically tied to the question of whether or not Data can qualify as an artist. can he, like a human, take on inspiration and cultivate desirable influences in order to produce something that reflects his view on the world?

yes, he can. because he has a view on the world.

but that's the thing about the generative AI we are dealing with in the real world. that's not like Data. despite being referred to as "AI", these are algorithms that have been trained to recognize and imitate patterns. they have no perspective. the people who DO have a perspective, the humans inputting prompts, are trying to circumvent the whole part of the artistic process where they actually develop skills and create things themselves. they're not doing what Data did, in fact they're doing the opposite -- instead of exploring their own ability to create art despite their personal limitations, they are abandoning it. the data sets aren't like someone looking at a painting and taking inspiration from it, because the machine can't be inspired and the prompter isn't filtering inspiration through the necessary medium of their perspective.

Data would be very confused as to the motives and desires involved, especially since most people are not inhibited from developing at least SOME sort of artistic skill for the sake self-expression. he'd probably start researching the history of plagiarism and different cultural, historical, and legal standards for differentiating it from acceptable levels of artistic imitation, and how the use of various tools factored into it. he would cite examples of cultures where computer programming itself was considered a form of art, and court cases where rulings were made for or against examples of generative plagiarism, and cases of forgeries and imitations which required skill as good if not better than the artists who created the originals. then Geordi would suggest that maybe Data was a little bit annoyed that people who could make art in a way he can't would discount that ability. Data would be like "as a machine I do not experience annoyance" but he would allow that he was perplexed or struggling to gain internal consensus on the matter. so Geordi would sum it up with "sometimes people want to make things easy, and they aren't always good at recognizing when doing that defeats the whole idea" and Data would quirk his head thoughtfully and agree.

then they'd get back to modifying the warp core so they could escape some sentient space anomaly that had sucked the ship into intermediate space and was slowly destabilizing the hull, or whatever.

anyways, point is -- I don't think Data from Star Trek would be a big fan of AI art.

#star trek #star trek tng #st tng #data soong #geordi la forge

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sepublic · 1 year

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I love ragging on Belos but also DAMN he’s fiendishly clever. Like let’s analyze his ‘reunion’ with the Collector;

Gets caught, Collector is suspicious and scared? Belos immediately calms him down by making the Collector feel in control over his own spell he openly doubted, pointing to the moon symbol on Raine’s forehead; Telling this kid not to worry about his most immediate question! And then Belos justifies the anomaly by playing along with the wishful fantasy rules of a kid who believes in the magic of friendship! Anything can happen, so no need to question any further, he flatters the child.

Then there’s his next line, in which Belos warns the Collector that he’s in danger, which is incredibly vague and could mean anything; And in the couple of seconds it takes the Collector to react in derision, Belos figures out he needs to be more specific and how to elaborate on this, claiming someone is going to betray the Collector.

Note that he never name-drops anyone on his own, because Belos doesn’t really know who’s around the Collector, other than Odalia. But just in case, he keeps it vague so the Collector can provide an answer for him, the first person he’d assume, and thus the one whose betrayal he fears the most: King!

Belos latches onto that. He sees King isn’t here, so he asks where is he? Note he doesn’t give an answer, doesn’t make any claims because he doesn’t KNOW anything. Belos is trying to avoid saying something that can be contradicted later on, so he keeps it vague by throwing a very simple, ‘safe’ question that nevertheless makes the kid doubt.

The Collector watches, is reassured, looks back to Belos to brag! Then he checks again, sees what King said, and looks away. The kid is concerned, but he’s not jumping to any conclusions, and you may think, oh! This is where he checks again, just to be sure.

And that’s when Belos drops the bombshell; Luz is here. And as he so cleverly plans, this revelation shocks the Collector, distracting them from checking on King again to hear what he ACTUALLY meant. Because Belos doesn’t know for sure how genuine King is or not, but either way, the less this kid is actually in touch with the outside world, the easier it is for Belos to control the narrative and filter all information through himself. The kid has seen enough to doubt, no need for him to find out more and potentially clarify.

Likewise, Belos has been manipulating this kid for hundreds of years; Like it or not, the Collector is the longest relationship he’s ever had in his life, by a long shot. He knows the kid’s psychology in and out, he knows exactly which buttons to press, and he guesses at how jealous the Collector can get. If he’s friends with King and holds him in high regard, then King has probably told him about Luz during the time they’ve been hanging out.

And that Collector is an insecure kid… So Belos creates an Us VS Them scenario, plays into the Collector’s worst fears of King replacing him for Luz (gee, it’s like Philip speaks these insecurities from experience). The fact that Belos himself contributed deeply to the Collector’s trust issues, and is now using them is just. Ugh.

Now Luz is something Belos DOES know about, having inhabited Hunter, knowing she followed right behind him and does plan to change things, and herself doesn’t know any more than he does; If anything, she knows less! So Belos is a lot more free to make claims about Luz’s motives and goals here, because he actually knows them for the most part. Luz is something Belos can guarantee and thus reliably interpret for the Collector to support his claim.

That creates an unpredictable element that unsettles the kid, pair that up with the ambiguity of what King said (never checked back on, due to Belos diverting the Collector’s attention) and you’ve got the perfect recipe to manipulate this child all over again… An empty sandbox the Collector can’t verify from which Belos can craft a new narrative with, and anytime something comes along that can be interpreted in its favor, like the ending of the episode? You betcha.

God he’s so smart, so confident that you might not even notice at first how baseless Belos’ claims are. You’d understandably think he actually DID somehow know, and wasn’t just adapting and having good luck in guessing! Imagine society if Belos weaponized his autism for actual good.

#the owl house #emperor belos #philip wittebane #the owl house collector #analysis

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thestoryofusstan · 2 months

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💿💿🙏✨

Harry supports director!yn as she becomes the first woman to make a billion dollar movie for ‘Barbie’.

this is actually such a cute ask omg… also i got a bit carried away so she’s a bit long😭

—

you were dressed in a hot pink silk gown, with shoes equally as bright. you probably would have not worn something so.. eye-killing, if everybody else in your— harry’s, technically, but your name would be on the lease soon, house.

you were young for your field. twenty six— but still.. young. you’d made the biggest movie of the summer, and now.. ever. the barbie movie, starring margot robbie and ryan gosling. (and yes, you did shed a few tears before you met them. so what?)

when you found out through a very excited text from your mom that barbie was the first woman-directed movie to make a billion dollars, you broke down sobbing. harry, who was in bed next to you, held you and insisted you have a party to celebrate.

hence, house full of pink. most of them were cast members— you’d already chatted with margot for quite a while, but some of them were family and friends.

you could see harry’s sister, gemma, through the sea of people, but no harry.

an arm slowly comes to rest on your shoulder, and before you can panic, a familiar scent filters through your nose. harry’s perfume.

you turn to him with a grin, “hey, you. i was just lookin’ for you.”

he matches your expression, “i was puttin’ together some last minute things.”

you met harry before his live on tour show in london. you were on the way, and then your car broke down, and you sobbed on the side of the road until someone pulled up next to you and asked if you needed a lift. it was harry, and as mortified as you were, you still accepted and even met with him the next day.

you’d been dating for about five years, at this point.

“what things?”

“this,” he states, grabbing a champgne glass and a knife with a grin.

before you can question him, he clinks the knife and glass against each other until he has the whole rooms attention.

“as you all.. hopefully know, we are here to celebrate my amazing girlfriend, and the cast and crew, of making the first billion-dollar movie directed by a woman.”

you blush as everyone applauds.

“y/n, you are such a talented, amazing, gorgeous woman, and i cannot wait to see what other amazing films you make. i am incredibly lucky and thankful to call you my girlfriend. i could not think of anyone more deserving of this. i love you.”

you could nearly cry as he finishes his speech with a light peck on your lips.

“but as much as i love calling you my girlfriend..” he passes off the champagne and knife to someone as he lowers down. your jaw drops, already knowing what he’s doing. “i would love it even more if i could call you my wife.”

everyone in the room screams, gasps, and cheers. you cover your mouth with a hand as tears fill your waterline.

harry pulls out a velvet case and opens it, revealing a dainty diamond ring— he knew you hated over-the-top ones.

not trusting your words, you start nodding as the tears begin to spill.

“yeah?” he asks with a smile.

“yes! oh, my god! you’re fucking— yes!”

he stands up and pulls you into a kiss, and when he pulls away, he turns back to the room, “my fiancée is the first woman to make a billion dollar film!”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry fic #harry #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #director!yn #harry styles x director!reader

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worth-the-chaos · 4 months

Text

Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: Looking for Dart isn’t easy, but it gives you and Steve a lot of time to have a heart to heart, as you slowly start to realize your feelings for one another.

Content Warning: fluff, mutual pining, slow burn, upside down scary shit, boys being stupid

Word Count: 6.5k

Author’s Note: This part sticks closely to the original series, but there will be a lot more originality in the next part! I know it probably isn’t super fun to read what you’ve watched on the show, but for me this has been the ultimate rewatch fic writing experience, which I have greatly enjoyed, so if you’re looking to reminisce about stranger things, boy is this the fic for you ;)

Series Masterlist | Part 3 | Next Part

***

Steve woke up first, and nearly panicked when he realized that you were curled up in his arms, pressed flush against his chest. At some point in the night, you both must have rolled over to face each other, and now his arms were wrapped around your waist, one hand dangerously close to your ass and one of his legs rested in between yours. He wasn’t sure what to do and his mind was screaming at him to move before you could wake up and see the compromising position the two of you were in, but his heart was screaming at him to stay.

He pulled away slightly to look at you, his heart beating wildly in his chest. The worry lines that were usually etched into your features were gone, and it was the first time he could think of that you truly looked at peace. You were stunning, there was no question about it. I could get used to this, Steve thought, but then quickly pushed it aside. He felt guilty; he wasn’t even sure if Nancy and him were actually officially broken up and he was already starting to feel things for someone else. Though if he was really being honest with himself, he’d been feeling this way about you for a while.

He carefully untangled himself from you, cursing himself for not holding onto you for just a little bit longer, but he knew that it was the right thing to do. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he slipped out of bed and quietly exited the room, making his way down to the kitchen.

You groaned when you finally woke up, light filtering in through the window. The bed was empty, and you tried to push aside your disappointment as you checked the clock on Steve’s beside table. It was 8:00 which meant you had a couple of hours before Steve and you had to leave to pick up Dustin. You wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, unready to face the tribulations that inevitably lied ahead. Knowing that wasn’t an option, you got out of bed.

Upon turning the corner into the massive kitchen, you were met with the sight of a pajama clad Steve Harrington, standing over the kitchen stove while he cooked pancakes. He turned once he heard your footsteps and saw you, your eyes still sleepy as you drowned in his clothes that were way too big for you. He felt his face heat up at the sight of you, but if you asked, he would blame it on the hot stove.

“Pancake?” He asked, the one on the pan finally done cooking. You simply nodded and he plated it and walked towards the kitchen table, setting it down at a seat before pulling your chair out for you.

“I’m honestly surprised that you know how to cook anything,” you teased. It was pretty baffling to see the boy who had previously been a complete ass standing in a kitchen making pancakes with the most wild case of bedhead you’d ever seen. “Or that you’re cooking at all considering the day we have ahead of us,” you added, mind beginning to focus on the more important things.

“Well, my parents are gone most of the time so I have to fend for myself a lot. Which, you know, sucks, but it also means I kinda can do whatever the hell I want, so I guess it balances itself out, doesn’t it?” Steve took the seat across from you, sitting down with his own pancake.

“I guess,” you agreed. You both ate your breakfast quietly, trying not to think about how domestic all of this was. I’m supposed to be thinking about the damn demogorgon, not playing house with Steve, you thought, annoyed with yourself for enjoying this all a little too much. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to wear today,” you spoke up, interrupting the blissful quiet of the meal you were sharing.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if I wear my clothes from yesterday, Dustin’s going to make…assumptions. And I certainly can’t wear these,” you added, giggling and flailing your arms to demonstrate how long the sleeves were, “but I also can’t go home to change because my parents aren’t going to let me leave so easy when they find out I didn’t come home last night and now some boy they don’t know is dropping me off for a pit stop.”

Steve was quiet for a bit as he contemplated all of this. “Well, for starters,” he said through a mouthful of pancakes, “I think you look fabulous, but I can see how in a defensive situation, the miles of extra fabric would not be the best. You can raid my mom’s closet? She might have some stuff that fits you better? She also has a shit ton of stuff she definitely doesn’t wear anymore,” He offered. You felt weird about it, but given it was basically your only option, you nodded in agreement.

Steve brought you into his parents’ room, pointing out the clothes he knew his mom wouldn’t miss. You settled on a pair of jeans, a white turtleneck, and a beige windbreaker. Simple enough. You swiftly changed in the bathroom and took a look at yourself in the mirror. These clothes were definitely nicer and more expensive than the ones you normally wore. You felt good in them, and they fit your body nicely, much more well tailored than your thrifted outfits. You put your hair into a low ponytail and shook out your arms, bouncing from foot to foot trying to psych yourself up for this. At least if I die today, I’ll die wearing nicer clothes.

You and Steve loaded his trunk with things you might need: the nail bat, a few knives, a golf club, a can of gasoline, as well as a few buckets full of raw meat. If you were going to catch this thing, you were going to have to bait it.

***

“So, what are the odds you think we’re really going to find this thing?” Steve asked as the two of you drove towards Dustin’s house. To be completely honest, he thought that this attempt was most likely futile. Hawkins was small, but not that small. Hell, by now it might not even be in Hawkins anymore.

“I’d say slim to none. But we still have to try. I can’t in good conscience not find it. I don’t think I’d ever be able to sleep again if I knew it was just out there, roaming Hawkins,” you shuddered, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Yeah, I don’t sleep too well anymore. Not after last year,” Steve admitted. He hated being vulnerable, but it didn’t feel so bad when he was being that way around you.

“I know what you mean. The amount of nightmares I’ve had about that…that thing is just truly astounding” you sighed, giving Steve an empathetic look.

Steve didn’t have the heart to tell you that his nightmares weren’t scary because he was face to face with the demogorgon. They were terrifying because they always ended with you getting hurt. Every single one of them was just the two of you in that damn living room, but this time he didn’t have the bat. It was just you, pinned to the floor helpless, and him unable to move. Unable to save you.

“Yep,” he replied instead, “I didn’t have any last night though.” It wasn’t a lie, and he felt his heart race as he said it. Admitting that seemed risky, but at this point he didn’t care. With the amount of shit you both always seemed to be in, holding things back seemed riskier.

“Me neither,” you added, voice quiet but sincere.

It wasn’t long before you pulled up to the Henderson household, Dustin hurrying towards the car. He quickly got in the backseat, clearly eager to get this all over with. You couldn’t really blame him, as you felt the exact same way.

“We have shit in the back of the car so we don’t need to stop for supplies. Where are we going first?” You cut right to the chase.

“I was thinking we could walk the train tracks. It’ll be easier to cover more ground that way, and it’s secluded enough that we won’t look batshit crazy,” Dustin replied. Honestly, you had to give the boy credit, he was pretty damn smart. Steve began to pull away, headed towards the park. He knew one of the hiking trails ran parallel to the train tracks and you’d only have to deviate from it slightly in order to reach them.

“Why didn’t you pick me up first?” Dustin suddenly asked.

“What?” Steve replied.

“I said, why didn’t you pick me up first? My house is between yours and y/n’s. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Does it matter?” Steve returned his question with a question, gripping the steering wheel tighter as his shoulders tensed. You cleared your throat and looked out the window, avoiding eye contact at all costs. Your body language gave you both away, and Steve could see Dustin’s eyes light up in the rearview mirror as he connected the dots.

“Woah! Wait a minute. You didn’t have to pick her up because she stayed at your house!” Dustin exclaimed, letting out a laugh and feeling like a genius.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Steve shot back, clearly angry. You buried your face in the palm of your hand. If Steve just wouldn’t react so huge, then Dustin might second guess himself, but no, that was too complex a reaction for the boy to ever consider.

“You’re lying! Haha! I knew it!” Dustin yelled out, pointing at your look of defeat. Maybe I could have reacted a bit differently too, you thought sheepishly, flashing Steve a look that said “I’m sorry.”

“Dustin, would you just kindly shut the fuck up,” Steve fumed, trying to pay attention to the road.

“Wait a minute, did you guys have sex?”

“NO!” You both shouted in unison, and Steve slammed on the breaks, the inertia causing your seatbelt to lock as you all jolted forward. Steve very aggressively put the car in park and whipped around, putting his left hand on the back of your seat to fully twist his body towards the boy in the backseat.

“Listen here, dipshit. It wasn’t fucking like that, she slept in the guest bedroom because I didn’t feel good about leaving her home alone while your little science experiment is running all over this goddamn town. Ask one more question about it, and I swear you’ll have bigger concerns than this Upside Down bullshit,” Steve threatened. Dustin put his hands up, signaling that he would back off, and Steve nodded as he turned back around, taking a deep breath, and putting the car back in drive.

You were a little shocked by his outburst. The old Steve would have bragged about the fact that you had shared a bed with him, so you were a bit surprised that he lied, placing you in the guest room in his explanation to Dustin. Maybe he was embarrassed about it, you thought as your heart sank a little in your chest.

You finally made it to the park, Steve parking haphazardly by a trailhead as you all exited the BMW. You handed each boy a pair of rubber gloves from your backpack, slipping a pair on yourself before passing the boys each a bucket of raw meat. Steve threw on his backpack, nail bat sticking out of it. Your backpack looked similar, but packed with a golf club instead. You also had found a hunting knife that belonged to Mr. Harrington as you both had scoured the house for anything that was or could be turned into a weapon, and it sat sheathed on your right hip underneath your windbreaker.

Suddenly, Lucas’ voice was ringing out from Dustin’s walkie talkie, “Dustin! This is Lucas, do you copy? Dustin!”

“Well, well, well, look who it is?”

“Sorry, man, my sister turned it off.”

“Well, when you were having sister problems, Dart grew again, he escaped, and I’m pretty sure he’s a baby demogorgon,” Dustin fumed.

“Wait, what?”

“I’ll explain later, just meet me, Steve, and y/n at the old junkyard,” Dustin informed him.

“Steve?!”

“And bring your binoculars and wrist rocket.”

“Steve Harrington?!” Lucas emphasized his question again, still clearly in disbelief that Dustin was hanging out with that asshole. You couldn’t help but laugh. Steve rolled his eyes.

“Alright, let’s go,” he chimed in, ready for Dustin to end his dumb conversation with his friend. Why can’t Lucas be confused as to why y/n’s here too? Why does it always have to be me?

“Just be there, stat! Over and out,” Dustin ended the discussion, putting the walkie talkie back in his pocket.

It took a second for you to finally find the train tracks, having to hike about a mile and a half before you actually were able to see them. You were glad it was still early on a Sunday, so no one was out hiking to see the three kids who definitely looked like they did not hang out together on a regular basis with bright yellow gloves and bait buckets. There were some questions you just couldn’t answer.

So there the three of you were, walking the train tracks and dropping small chucks of raw meat behind you like sailors chumming the water for sharks. You tried not to think about it as the three of you made conversation to pass the time, beginning with you forcing Dustin to explain himself.

“Alright, so let me get this straight,” Steve spoke up after his explanation, “you kept something that you knew was probably dangerous in order to impress a girl…who you just met?”

“Okay, that is grossly oversimplifying things,” Dustin replied. You were walking in a line, Dustin leading, Steve in the middle, and you taking up the rear. You were glad that this arrangement allowed you to emote freely, the boys unable to see you.

“Why would a girl like some nasty slug anyway?” You chimed in, speaking on behalf of females across the globe who weren’t looking for boys to sweep them off their feet by showing them some trashcan residing tadpole that likes nougat.

“An inter dimensional slug? Because it’s awesome, duh. And I’m a little disappointed that you wouldn’t be excited about that y/n, considering you’re like a complete nerd.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “I’m not a complete nerd.”

“Uh yeah. You are. You’ve babysat me for a whole year now and all you do is homework. Even over the summer. I’m not even that nerdy!” Dustin exclaimed.

“I mean, the kid’s got a point y/n. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you have fun…like ever,” Steve added. You gaped at him, unable to believe that he would take Henderson’s side. These motherfuckers were ganging up on you, and you wouldn’t have that.

“That is so not true! I went to that dumbass party you invited me to,” you reminded him. Dustin’s ears perked up at this, as he slowly turned, looking past Steve and narrowing his eyes at you. So Steve had been the one that invited you to the Halloween party. You realized your slip up and gave Dustin a look that you hoped was threatening enough for him to keep his mouth shut.

“Anyway, regardless of whether or not she thought it was cool—which she didn’t—I just…I don’t know, I just think you’re trying way too hard,” Steve refocused the conversation, not digging the obvious but silent argument the two of you were having that he was not privy to.

“Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, Steve,” Dustin grumbled.

“It’s not about the hair man. The key with girls is just…just acting like you don’t care.”

“Even if you do?”

“Yeah, exactly, it drives them nuts,” Steve replied as if it was the simplest thing in the world. You slowed down your strides. Steve continued to make it abundantly clear to you that he cared…like a whole hell of a lot. In some ways, you were starting to confuse all of this for interest, but maybe you were wrong; maybe he did truly just want to be friends. You bent down and retied your shoes trying to put some distance between you and the boys, not wanting them to see how let down you felt. The boys noticed, and started to slow their steps, but you shooed them ahead, letting them know you’d be fine. Steve hesitantly obliged, following Dustin who had already started back down the tracks.

“Then what?” Dustin asked.

“Then you just wait until—“ Steve turned making sure you were out of earshot, not quite wanting you to hear him talk about how he used to pick up women. “Uh, until you feel it,” Steve finished.

“Feel what?” Geez, did this kid ever stop asking fucking questions.

“It’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it but you can feel it, like this uh…electricity, you know?” Steve searched for the right words to explain it to Dustin. He figured a metaphor would be better, just in case you came within earshot again.

“Oh, like in the electromagnetic field when the clouds in the atmosphere—“

“No, no, no, no, no, like a…like a sexual electricity,” Steve connected the dots for him, “you feel that, and then you make your move.”

“So that’s when you kiss her?” Dustin asked innocently.

“No, woah, woah whoa! Slow down, Romeo…sure, okay, some girls want you to be aggressive right away, strong, hot and heavy, I don’t know, like…like a lion,” he continued to speak in metaphors, “but others you gotta be slow, stealth, like a…like a ninja.”

“What type is y/n,” Dustin asked.

Steve was thrown off by the question, but answered it anyway, “y/n’s different. She’s different than the other girls,” Steve said quietly as he looked over his shoulder, you were still trailing several paces behind, and for once he was glad. He didn’t usually like it when you were out of his sight…it was too dangerous, but right now it was nice to speak freely.

“Yeah, she is pretty special I guess,” Dustin agreed. Not many girls would have fought like hell for some random kid they babysat. You were probably one of the coolest people he knew…even if you did do a lot of homework.

“Yeah. Yeah, she is,” Steve sighed, still unsure of what the hell he was supposed to do about that. His love life was a complete shit show, but he was hoping that maybe by the end of all of this it wouldn’t be.

“But that’s the thing…this girl is special too, you know? It’s just like...something about her.”

“Woah, woah, woah. You’re not falling in love with this girl are you?” Steve asked, judgment and concern painted across his features.

“You’re not falling in love with y/n, are you?” Dustin shot back.

“Touché,” Steve replied. He looked back at you again. You had bent down to clear a branch out of the tracks, tossing it aside. Standing up and brushing your hair out of your face with your forearm, avoiding touching your skin with the rubber glove. “Well, don’t. She’ll just go breaking your heart and you’re way too young for that shit,” he added, turning away from you. Dustin hung his head down, and Steve remembered what it was like to be that age. He was never unpopular like Dustin was, but he remembered how awkward it was to be in middle school.

He sighed. “Fabergé organics,” he said pointing to his hair, “use the shampoo and the conditioner and when its damp—not wet, okay, damp—you do four puffs of the Farrah Fawcett spray.”

“Farrah Fawcett spray?” Dustin asked, trying and failing to hold back his laughter.

“Yeah, Farrah Fawcett. You tell anyone that I told you that and your ass is grass, you’re dead Henderson. You understand that?” Steve stopped, pointing a gloved finger in Dustin’s face.

“Are you threatening my kid?” The boys turned as you shouted, watching you jog towards them to catch up.

“Yes, yes I was,” Steve owned it, selling the threat, while Dustin stared a little wide eyed at him, gulping before nodding in agreement. You continued on, but you slowed a bit as you noticed a yellow flag sticking out on the side of the trail, marking a tree that’s trunk was black with rot. You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach, as you’d never seen anything quite like it…and someone was keeping tabs on it too, which was equally, if not more unsettling.

“Y/n? Are you coming?” Dustin asked, the impatience of his age showing.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry,” you muttered, shaking away the thought as you caught up with the boys.

***

You made it to the junkyard, each of you pouring the remaining chunks of raw meat in a pile in a clearing.

“I said medium-well!” You heard Lucas yell, turning to see him and a red headed girl headed your direction. You recognized her, and you kept trying to wrack your brain for how but you kept coming up empty. Dustin pulled Lucas aside to talk, so you decided to introduce yourself.

“Well, I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you. I wish it were under better circumstances,” you told her, extending your hand towards her. She took it and smiled.

“I’m Max.”

“So, how much do you know about all of this shit?” Steve asked and you rolled your eyes.

“This is Steve,” you added, not wanting to be entirely rude to the poor girl. Realization flashed across his face as he lifted his hand in a half wave, not really in the mood for introductions. The world was basically ending, did it really matter if you all knew each other?

Max waved back, pressing her lips into a thin line, clearly also unimpressed by Steve. You couldn’t imagine how she was putting up with Dustin and his friends all this time, but then again, you had spent the last twenty-four hours with Steve Harrington, so you really couldn’t judge. “I know pretty much everything,” Max answered your previous question, though you could tell she didn’t really buy it. You weren’t going to try to convince her. Hell, you wished you didn’t believe it either.

“Well, we should probably start prepping for some serious shit,” you spoke up, starting to lift up a piece sheet metal and turning to carry it towards a broken down old bus. Steve knew that had to be heavy as hell, and if he was being honest, watching you carry it was kind of hot. He shook the thought from his head as you returned to help Max carry another piece. He turned to make his way towards the boys who were doing nothing to help whatsoever.

While you and Max carried the sheet metal, you finally realized where you knew her from, “hey, you’re Billy’s sister, right?” You remembered her from the car. She had to walk all the way down to the middle school because Billy was a lazy piece of shit.

“Step sister, but to answer your question, yeah, unfortunately,” she rolled her eyes.

“Well, I wouldn’t tell Steve that because he definitely is not a fan of your brother,” you chuckled.

“Join the club,” she sighed as you set the scrap down. You heard a loud bang as you turned to see Steve banging a metal chair against a car to get the younger boys’ attention.

“Hey! Dickheads! How come the only ones helping me out are y/n and this random girl?”

You and Max looked at each other and you burst out laughing. You apologized that Steve had referred to you as “this random girl,” as you moved to grab more and more materials to set up your impromptu shelter. Steve and the boys continued to grab sheet metal and you began pouring gasoline all over the clearing. Fire had worked pretty damn good the last time, so you were banking on it working again, hoping that it was enough.

You had fortified the entire bus with sheet metal, wiping the sweat beading on your forehead after you and Steve placed the last piece. The kids were all piling onto the dilapidated vehicle and you were about ready to join them when Steve grabbed your elbow for you to wait.

“What?” You asked, not quite sure why he had stopped you.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay if this thing shows up?” He asked, scanning your face trying to read your expression as if it would reveal some sort of fundamental truths about the universe to him.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you shook free of his grasp, somewhat annoyed with him. If him showing he cared meant that he wasn’t interested, you weren’t interested in hearing it.

“What’s the matter? What did I do?” Steve was confused and a bit hurt too. Through all of this you had gotten along so well, and now was not the time for your friendship to be on the fritz.

You sighed, not quite sure how to explain yourself. You knew you were being unreasonable, but you just didn’t have the energy to care right now. “It’s just…I don’t know, I just wish you didn’t care so much about me sometimes. I didn’t matter to you at all a year ago, so it’s just a lot sometimes to have you worried about me all the damn time, whether it’s some guy hitting on me or this shit. I can take care of myself, I’m not fucking weak, okay?” You grumbled.

“That’s not fair, y/n, and I think you know it. And I wish I wouldn’t have been so stuck up and that we could’ve been friends sooner. And yeah, believe me, I fucking know you can handle yourself, but now that we are friends, I kind of am partial to having you around and if that means yelling at sketchy douchebags like Billy and knocking some inter dimensional fucker into next week, I’ll be damned if I let you stop me,” Steve emphasized. You could hear the annoyance in his voice, but you could also hear the desperation. Steve didn’t say it, but his heart just wanted him to scream let me take care of you…in every damn way there was.

“I know, but Steve the reality of the situation is that we’re in deep fucking shit, and either of us could get ripped to shreds or incapacitated by that thing at any moment, so I need to know that I can be okay without you.”

It was hard to admit it and your voice wavered a bit, but it was true. Something in Steve clicked when you said it and he finally understood why you were so hellbent on fending for yourself. Suddenly, Steve stepped forward and put his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, needing to just hold onto you for a second.

You weren’t expecting the hug, but it was more than welcome nonetheless. You didn’t really know how you were supposed to react, but you felt your hands instinctively go up to run your fingers through his hair. You spent a minute like that before pulling away, Steve taking a step back again and clearing his throat.

“Sorry, it’s just I think I push the idea that we might not come back from this out of my head sometimes. I don’t want to have any regrets if this all goes to shit,” he said. What he wanted to say was I want the chance to hold you, just in case.

You nodded and the two of you entered the bus. If the kids heard your conversation, they didn’t say anything, as you and Steve joined them on the floor.

Now it was just a waiting game. Your hand went to the blade at your hip, your fingers running over the leather of the holster. You were ready.

***

Lucas had vacated the bus, instead choosing to sit on the roof to operate as look out. You wished you would have volunteered because sitting and waiting inside this damn thing had become near excruciating. Steve kept flicking his lighter on and off, and you glared at him in the dark, hoping that it would have enough fluid left for when you really needed it.

“So…you really fought one of these things before?” Max spoke up and asked. Steve nodded, continuing to mess with the lighter.

“…and you’re, like, totally 100% sure it wasn’t a bear?”

“Shit. Don’t be an idiot. Okay? It wasn’t a bear. Why are you even here if you don’t believe us? Just go home.” Dustin fumed.

“Geez, someone’s cranky. Past your bedtime?” Max shot back, crossing her arms.

“Dustin!” You scolded. He rolled his eyes and turned away from you, and you decided to give up on trying to get him to play nice. “I’m definitely sure it wasn’t a bear. I’ve even got the scars to prove it,” you tried to go back to Max’s original question, believing that she deserved a kindly worded answer.

“Yeah, she almost died. Still think it was a fucking bear?” Dustin grumbled from his seat, still refusing to face the rest of you. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, trying to make it clear to Max that you thought he was being ridiculous.

“Here, I’ll show you.” You took off the windbreaker, and slipped your arm out of your turtleneck sleeve. Steve went to avert his eyes as a large part of your chest and torso was now on display, but he stopped in his tracks when his eyes caught your upper arm. He had never actually seen the wounds, just your blood-soaked sleeve and then the bandage, and since, you had avoided wearing anything that showed your upper arm. It was littered with scars and his breath hitched in his throat. He left that fight without a scratch on him. Well, other than the ones he already had from his scuffle with Jonathan. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to have that permanent of a reminder.

Dustin cleared his throat loudly and kicked Steve in the leg, signaling at him that he should probably look away before you noticed him staring. Steve quickly obliged, becoming very fascinated with a spot on the floor while you covered back up.

“That’s fucking crazy,” Max breathed out, “why the hell are you guys here if you almost died last time you had to deal with this thing?”

“Because who else would?” You replied as if it was simple. This was now your burden to bear, and you felt a pang in your chest as you realized that it was now Max’s as well.

With that, she nodded, moving to the ladder to join Lucas on the roof. Dustin scoffed and muttered another insult as she disappeared from the body of the bus.

“That’s good. Just show her you don’t care,” Steve spoke up.

“I don’t,” Dustin grumbled. Steve winked at him, and you rolled your eyes.

“Why are you winking, Steve? Stop.” You interjected, kicking at his leg, much like Dustin had done earlier. “Besides, just so you know,” you added, directing your focus back at Dustin, but saying it just as much for Steve’s benefit, “that’s terrible advice. Girls like it when you show them that they mean something to you. If you just keep them guessing they’re going to lose interest.”

Suddenly, you heard a growl settle across the junkyard and the familiar chattering that haunted you in your sleep. You, Steve, and Dustin moved quickly to look out the caged in window. The fog making it difficult to make anything out.

“You see him?” You asked.

“No,” Steve replied, his eyes rapidly darting around the clearing hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything that would be helpful in giving you even the slightest advantage in this fight.

“I’ve got eyes! Ten o’clock! Ten o’clock!” You suddenly heard Lucas yell from the roof. Surely enough, there it was. You felt anxiety start to creep up in your chest, but then you reminded yourself that you were caged in. The demogorgon couldn’t get you in there…right?

“He’s not taking the bait. Why is he not taking the bait?” Steve asked.

“Maybe he’s not hungry,” Dustin proposed. Surely that couldn’t be it, and you wracked your brain trying to come up with a plan. You finally settled on one, granted it wasn’t great, but it was about your best option at the moment. It’s now or never.

“Or maybe it’s sick of cow,” you added, swiftly getting up before anyone could stop you and grabbing the golf club.

“Y/n? Y/n, what are you doing?” Dustin asked, fear seeping into his voice. Steve shot up grabbing the nail bat, understanding where you were going. He decided he wasn’t going to argue, but he wasn’t going to let you go by yourself either.

“Y/n, Steve!” Dustin called out again. Steve tossed him the lighter, the boy fumbling it before he caught it.

“Just be ready,” Steve warned as the two of you quickly swung open the door and exited the safety of the bus. Steve started whistling and calling out to the demogorgon, attempting to lure it towards the bus so you could enact your plan. You both cautiously stepped farther and farther out into the clearing, weapons in hand, looking like you were about to play the most fucked up game of basegolf ever.

“Come on! Dinner time,” you shouted out feeling fear rise in your throat. You couldn’t believe you were walking back into this again, but you had three kids with you and you weren’t going to let this creature put a scratch on them. No one else needed to come out of this with scars. You finally saw the demogorgon, or well, adolescent demogorgon. It was on all fours, stepping out from the fog into the clearing. It looked fucking menacing and you the longer you were out here, the more determined than ever you were to kill the fucking thing.

Lucas’ voice suddenly rang out “Steve! Y/n! Watch out! Three o’clock! Three o’clock!” You looked to your left and realized it wasn’t alone as two more began to climb over one of the other rundown vehicles. It had brought company.

“A little busy,” Steve called back, eyes still focused on the demogorgon in front of him.

“Steve,” you warned, and the fear in your tone caused him to turn, finally realizing that you were outnumbered. Suddenly, the face of the one across from Steve opened up as it started bounding towards the two of you, it’s buddies swiftly closing in as well, Steve dodged the first one, rolling over the hood of a car to get out of the way. You whacked at one to your left with the golf club, barely dodging another as it charged at you. So much was happening at once, and you were struggling to process it all. You barely jumped out of the way of another attack, as Steve roughly grabbed your wrist swinging you in front of him and shoving you as you both sprinted towards the bus. You heard the kids’ screams for you to hurry as the creatures closed in behind you. the two of you barely hopped back into the bus and shut the door, landing in a heap as you shoved more sheet metal to block the door. One of the demogorgons lunged at the bus, its sharp claws clamoring against the metal as you and Steve tried desperately to hold the door shut with your legs.

The kids all sprung into action, Dustin calling out on his walkie talkie for help, as the demogorgon finally broke through the door. Steve started beating it with the nail bat, swinging again and again, as it still didn’t die with each blow. It finally stopped moving, but that was when you all heard the sounds of footsteps on the roof, realizing too late that you hadn’t blocked the emergency exit. Max stood at the bottom of the ladder as the demogorgon approached, you shoved her out of the way as it opened its mouth to shriek at you. You were back in relatively the same position you had been in a year ago, you unsheathed your knife from your hip about ready to slit its throat, when all of the sudden it stopped screeching, growling off into the distance before swiftly vacating the bus.

You all cautiously exited the bus, realizing that the rest of them had left as well, all of you confused by the fact that they had just left. These things didn’t leave, not without killing something first.

“What happened?” Lucas asked.

“Y/n and Steve scared them off?” Dustin replied.

“No way,” Steve disagreed, “they’re going somewhere.”

***

The five of you made your way back down the train tracks, trying to get back to Steve’s car so you could get the hell out of there. Lucas and Max had began asking Dustin questions, similar to the ones you and Steve had asked him when he first told you guys.

“When’s he gonna molt again?” Max asked.

“It’s gonna be soon. When he does, he’ll be fully grown, or close to it,” Dustin replied confidently. The thing had already grown significantly in just a few days, there’s no telling how long you had to find him until he was the nine-foot beast you were a little too familiar with.

“Yeah, and he’s gonna eat a lot more than just cats,” Steve added, unaware of the argument that it was going to start.

“Wait, Dart ate a cat?!” Lucas yelled the question, clearly angry.

“No, no he didn’t,” Dustin answered way too quickly.

“What are you talking about? He ate Mews,” Steve interjected clearly confused. You elbowed him in the ribs to get him to stop talking. You were already annoyed with these children 90% of the time; you didn’t need to listen to another one of their dumb arguments. You tuned out their yelling back and forth before you and Steve started to walk ahead, but then you heard a growl in the distance. You all ran at the sound, coming up to an overlook where you saw Hawkins Lab in the distance.

“It’s the lab,” Lucas finally said, “they were going back home.”

You started taking off towards the lab. You were going to finish this thing once and for all. Steve ran after you, putting a hand on your shoulder to slow you down. You whirled around already thinking of your argument when he told you that this was a bad idea. Before you could even get the words out, he was speaking.

“Hey, just promise me, whatever we do, we do together, okay?” There it was again, his pinky extended towards yours. You grabbed it tightly, looking him in the eyes with the most sincerity that you could muster.

“Promise.”

***

a/n: I hope y’all liked this part. Honestly I’m just excited for when I get to write Billy showing up and Max being a total badass, so if you’re interested in that stay tuned. I’ve been trying to crank these out as quickly as possible, and your engagement makes it all the more exciting to write them, so comment and reblog if you liked it!