as you can probably tell by now i miss them so much

References to Mexican Culture in Coco

By now, you’ve probably heard Coco is one of the most well researched films about Mexico and its culture. There are many small details that make it feel like Mexico: the stone roads in a small town, the traditional embroidery patterns in the shirts of Miguel’s female relatives, an uncle wearing a soccer team shirt, even a bowl of limes in a stand of aguas frescas. Of course, the looks of papel picado, day of the dead altars, and cemeteries are also well represented. The clothes of the relatives Miguel sees in the world of the dead is accurate to their eras. While these are a nice touch, you’re ultimately not missing out on anything by not spotting them, so in this post I wanted to talk about the more culturally based details that show the most research and you might not understand if you’re not very well acquainted with Mexican culture:

Names and pronouns

1. Coco

This one is the most straightforward, so let’s start with the name of the movie. While the protagonist is called Miguel, we soon learn that Coco is his great grandmother. “Coco” is what we call a woman called “Socorro” (lit. “help” - it’s a very traditional name that’s considered old fashioned).

The Rivera family calls her “Mamá Coco,” which means “Mother Coco.” They also call Imelda “Mamá Imelda,” and so on. Calling your grandparents “mamá” or “papá” instead of “abuelita” and “abuelito” is a thing you can do, though I can’t say how common it is.

In the Spanish version of the film, Miguel’s grandmother, Elena, talks to Mamá Coco with “usted” (I didn’t notice other instances, but they might be there). Spanish has a formal and an informal version of singular “you:” “usted” for formal, “tú” for informal. The verb conjugation also changes depending on which one you use. It is used differently all through the Spanish speaking world, but in Mexico, other than older people you respect (like a teacher), you can talk to older family members with “usted,” which means respect rather than the distance the formality might imply. Nowadays, it has fallen out of use: as someone born in the 90s, my grandparents talked to their parents almost exclusively with “usted;” out of my parents, my mother talked to hers with “usted” and my father with “tú;” I speak to my parents with “tú.” I have cousins on my mother’s side that talk to their parents with “usted,” but I would say that makes them a minority nowadays.

Traditions and beliefs

2. Crossing to the world of the dead on a bridge of marigolds

If you paid very close attention, you might have noticed two children scattering marigold petals on the ground and their mother telling them not to scatter them, but to make a bridge so the dead could cross over. It was easy to miss, but that’s actually something we believe!

There are several types of flowers you can place in a day of the dead altar, but the one you can’t do without is the yellow marigold. Its petals are scattered all around the altar, and at the very front, you’ll form a path surrounded with candles. The bright yellow will help the dead properly make their way to the altar, and the candles surrounding the path will light their way.

3. Crossing to the world of the dead with a xoloitzcuintli

Several prehispanic cultures had a similar concept of the underworld as many other cultures around the world, in which there was a river they had to cross to get there. For both the Aztecs/Mexicas and the Mayas, a xoloitzcuintli would guide their souls so they could cross the river safely and arrive to Mictlan (Mexicas) or Xibalba (Mayas). To achieve this, a xoloitzcuintli would be sacrificed and buried with its owner. Day of the dead altars can have a xoloitzcuintli figure so that the dead can make it back safely as well.

4. Being thrown into a cenote

My screenshot isn’t the best but at some point, Miguel is thrown into a big pit with water. That’s not just any random pit, but a cenote.

Cenotes are naturally ocurring sinkholes caused by the collapse of limestone. The word “cenote” has Maya etymology, as cenotes are commonly found in the Yucatán peninsula, where they (still!) live. In old times, they would sacrifice animals and people as tributes to the gods, and also throw ceramic objects and jewelry as part of the tribute.

5. Alebrijes

I left these for last because they don’t have any deep meaning. Alebrijes are colorful fantastic animals that a man called Pedro Linares saw in a fever dream. He was a skilled artisan, so when he woke up from his long sickness, he brought them to life in his art.

In Coco, alebrijes are spiritual guides, and while their designs are to the likes of the real alebrijes, the film actually gave them a more important role than they have for us.

Music

6. Genres of Mexican music

The songs in Coco all belong to genres we’ve grown up with, so even if someone isn’t that knowledgeable in music theory or genres, we could vaguely tell they sounded “Mexican” (some more than others). Someone who is more knowledgeable of music genres can help me out here, but I think:

- Remember Me / Recuérdame is a bolero ranchero.

- Much Needed Advice / Dueto a través del tiempo is a ranchera.

- Everyone Knows Juanita / Juanita is a corrido.

- Un Poco Loco is a son jarocho.

- The World Es Mi Familia / El mundo es mi familia is huapango inspired.

- Proud Corazón / El latido de mi corazón is a a son (son de mariachi? I’m most uncertain about this one).

6.5 Un Poco Loco

Un Poco Loco starts in English as

What color is the sky, ay mi amor, ay mi amor,
You tell me that it’s red, ay mi amor, ay mi amor

And in Spanish as

Que el cielo no es azul, ay mi amor, ay mi amor,
Es rojo dices tú, ay mi amor, ay mi amor

(You say the sky isn’t blue, oh my love, oh my love,
It’s red, you say, oh my love, oh my love)

This might be a deliberate reference to a huapango called “Cielo rojo,” which says:

Mientras yo estoy dormido
Sueño que vamos los dos muy juntos
A un cielo azul
Pero cuando despierto
El cielo es rojo, me faltas tú

(As I sleep
I dream of us close together
Going towards a blue sky
But when I wake up
The sky red, I am missing you)

Within the universe of the movie, this would make it an anachronistic reference, though. Additionally, Cielo rojo is a song of loss and Un poco loco is about a woman who thinks very differently and likes to say everything backwards, and that makes him crazy (in a good way!). Hence, in English we’ve got her saying to put his shoes on his head instead of his feet, and in Spanish him saying she might think with her feet and also how she keeps playing with his thoughts. Cielo rojo is a pretty sad song.

7. La Llorona

And I purposefully left La Llorona out of that list (it’s originally a son istmeño, though).

There’s a full musical number in Spanish, which seems to have suprised some people. For those of us who watched Coco in Spanish, it wasn’t too hard to guess it was this one: La Llorona was likely left in Spanish because it’s a very old folk song, one of those that are so old it has no known author and there are many different versions of the lyrics.

“Llorona” just means “weeper,” which is not really as unusual of a word in Spanish as it is in English. It’s closer to “crybaby” in use. She’s also what we call a character in a Mexican folktale. If you’re curious, the version used in Coco says the following, with “llorona” being the singer herself:

Poor me, llorona, llorona dressed in sky blue
Even if it costs me my life, llorona, I won’t stop loving you
I climbed the highest pine tree to see if I could spot you
Since the pine tree was so green, llorona, it cried upon seeing me cry

What is grief and what is not grief, llorona: it all is grief to me
Yesterday, I was crying to see you, llorona; today, I’m crying because I saw you

Poor me, llorona, llorona dressed in sky blue
Even if it costs me my life, llorona, I won’t stop loving you

Famous people

8. Ernesto de la Cruz

“Isn’t he an original charact-” NO LISTEN STAY WITH ME.

Remember how I said Remember Me is a bolero ranchero? Guess who we associate boleros rancheros with?

That would be Pedro Infante, who happens to have a strong resemblance to no other than Ernesto de la Cruz.

It’s probably not a coincidence at all, as later on we see Ernesto with Pedro Infante and Jorge Negrete at his party. Ernesto de la Cruz was explicitly stated to be inspired on both of them and another singer of the same genres, Vicente Fernández.

My parents left the movie saying “Pedro Infante didn’t deserve that burn,” lol.

9. Frida Kahlo (and Diego)

She does have a rather prominent role so she’s hard to miss. For those unaware, Frida is the artist who made the flaming papaya.

The themes in Frida’s are autobiographical, as she had a rather unusual life due to polio and injury. She painted herself and her suffering a lot. That might be why we get performances with many Fridas and things like a crying cactus that’s herself.

Bonus: her husband, Diego Rivera, is also in the same studio where we meet Frida. He was an important artist, specifically a muralist. 

10. Other Mexican celebrities

I already brought up Pedro Infante and Jorge Negrete as characters that appear right beside Ernesto de la Cruz.

But we also get to see a cameo of many other famous Mexican names in Ernesto’s studio! Excluding the people at the piano, from left to right:

Emiliano Zapata, a revolutionary; (my best guess is) Adela Velarde, another revolutionary; Ernesto and Miguel; (probably) Agustín Lara, composer and singer; (probably) Dolores del Río, actress (in Hollywood too!); Cantinflas, comedian and actor; Pedro Infante, singer and actor; María Félix, actress; El Santo, wrestler and actor; Jorge Negrete, singer and actor.

They kind of looked like this:

Another bonus: this gal looks like the calavera garbancera / the Catrina illustrated by José Guadalupe Posada.


There might be more things I’m missing or forgot; if that’s the case, feel free to let me know! You can also fix my music genres for me since that’s never been my forte.

I hope this was of interest to someone! 

The Minyard-Josten Pros’ Coming Out

Or, That Time Andrew Got Pissed And Posted The Video That Broke The Internet

  • Years down the line, our boys are both pros and Neil is getting annoyed at all the press conferences that get derailed by either the Josten-Minyard rivalry or whether he is or isn’t in a committed relationship as some gossip magazines have been implying
  • he’s not allowed to deal with it, though
    • he’s actually not allowed to say anything to the press that his coach and PR team haven’t approved of
    • he calls it bullshit
    • he only ever antagonized a dangerous yakuza criminal once
    • people really can’t let anything go, in this sport

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Tom and Lin-Manuel: An Appreciation/Jealous Rant

Every writer has a golden period – a chunk of time when her brain is ripest, when the veins he is tapping are the richest, when the ideas, big and small, spill out over the sides of the bucket instead of having to be patiently collected like drops of rain off a leaf. This is true for songwriters, playwrights, novelists, screenwriters, anyone who writes anything in any genre. Go look at John Hughes’s IMDb page and marvel at his golden period, which I would bookend as 1983-1990. It’s outrageous. He wrote Vacation, Mr. Mom, Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Weird Science, Pretty in Pink, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Some Kind of Wonderful, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, Uncle Buck, and Home Alone in eight years. Eight years?! That’s absurd.

But then look at his next 20 years. You won’t find one movie that is better than the worst one he wrote in those seven years. The vein ran dry. It always does. That’s just the deal.

Tom Petty’s golden period never ended. Or, at least, the silver periods on either side of his golden period were seemingly infinite. No matter where you think he peaked – Full Moon Fever, or Wildflowers, or Damn the Torpedoes – the decades on either side were wonderful. He was great from the moment he released his first album in 1977 to the day he died last month. For forty years he wrote, and wrote, and wrote, and the songs he wrote were good or great or amazing.

Tom Petty wrote “Breakdown” and “American Girl” in 1977. He wrote “You Don’t Know How it Feels” seventeen years later, in 1994. He wrote “You Got Lucky” in 1982, “King’s Highway” in 1992, “The Last DJ” in 2002. He wrote “I Won’t Back Down,” “Runnin’ Down a Dream,” Free Fallin’,” “Love is a Long Road,” “A Face in the Crowd,” Yer So Bad,” and “The Apartment Song,” and “Depending on You,” all in 1989, and they were all on the same album, and that’s absurd.

He wrote “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around” in 1981 and “Big Weekend” in 2006. He wrote every song on Wildflowers – and they are all great – in or around 1994. He wrote fifty other great songs I haven’t named yet, like “Don’t Come Around Here No More” and “Jammin Me.” He wrote great songs you’ve heard a million times, and great songs you’ve maybe never heard, like “Billy the Kid” (1999) and “Walls” (1996) which was buried on the soundtrack to She’s the One.  He took a break from the Heartbreakers and casually released “End of the Line” and “Handle With Care” and “She’s My Baby” with the Traveling Wilburys in 1989-90. He wrote “Refugee” in 1980 and “I Should Have Known It” in 2010. Is there any rock and roll songwriter alive who wrote two songs that good, 30 years apart? (Paul McCartney wrote “Hey Jude” in 1968, and only 12 years later he wrote “Wonderful Christmas Time,” which is so bad it nearly retroactively undid “Hey Jude.”)

He wrote about rock and roll things, like ’62 Cadillacs, getting out of this town, and dancing with Mary Jane. He wrote about love and loss and heartbreak. He wrote legitimately funny jokes, and moribund memories, and personal narratives, and imaginative flights of fancy. One of his characters calls his father his “old man” and it somehow isn’t cheesy. He was from Florida and California and wrote about both of them, and every time I’m on Ventura Boulevard I think of vampires, because the images he wrote are indelible. 

Petty didn’t just write songs directed at women, like most rock stars. He wrote about women, and he wrote for women, and he wrote with women. He treated the women in his songs as lovingly and respectfully as he treated the men. He cared about them as much, he spent as much time thinking about them, and he liked them as much, and all of that is rare.

He wrote simply, but not boringly. He made his characters three-dimensional, somehow, in a matter of seconds. There’s a famous (probably apocryphal) story about Hemingway bragging he could write an entire novel in six words, then writing: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” I prefer the 18-word novel Petty wrote as the first verse to “Down South” –

Headed back down south
Gonna see my daddy’s mistress
Gonna buy back her forgiveness
Pay off every witness

When I was working on Parks and Recreation, whenever we needed a song to score an important moment in Leslie Knope’s life, we chose a Tom Petty song. It started with “American Girl,” when her biggest career project came to fruition. It was “Wildflowers” when she said goodbye to her best friend. It was “End of the Line” at the moment the show ended. For the seven seasons of our show, Tom Petty was the writer we trusted to explain how our main character was feeling, because he wrote so much, so well, for so long.

*******

It seems like a joke, Hamilton – a joke in a TV show where one of the characters is a struggling New York actor, and is always dragging his friends to his terrible plays. Like Joey in Friends. There’s an episode of Friends where Joey is in a terrible musical called like Freud!, about Sigmund Freud, and you get to see some of it, and it’s predictably terrible. Freud! the musical is arguably a better idea than Hamilton the musical.

I’m far from the first person to say this – I’m probably somewhere around the millionth person to write about Hamilton, and the maybe 500,000th to make this particular point, but it needs to be said – a hip-hop Broadway musical about the founding fathers is an astoundingly terrible idea. Lin-Manuel Miranda should never have written it. As soon as he started to write it, he should’ve said to himself, “What the fuck am I doing?!” and stopped. And after he got halfway through, he should’ve junked it, gotten really drunk, and moved on with his life, and made his wife and friends swear to never mention the weird six months where he was trying to write a hip-hop musical about Alexander Hamilton. I literally guarantee you that when Lin-Manuel Miranda first told his friends what he was writing, every one of them reacted with at best a frozen smile, and at worst a horrified recoiling. Some of them might have been outwardly encouraging – “sounds awesome bud! Go get ‘em!” But then later, alone, they would call each other and say What the fuck is he doing?

There is a moment, in Hamilton, when what you are watching overwhelms you. (It’s not the same moment for everyone, but most everyone has one, I suspect.) It’s the moment when the enormity, the complexity, the meaning of it, the entirety of it, overpowers you, and you realize that what you are experiencing is new – new both in your specific life, and new, like, on Earth.  The first time I saw it, that moment was a line in the middle of “Yorktown.” Hamilton sang the line And so the American experiment begins / With my friends all scattered to the winds, and I burst into tears in a way I hadn’t since I was 10 and a baseball went through a guy’s legs in the World Series. Something about how casually he says that – And so the American experiment begins – just settled over me, like a collapsing tent, and this thing I was watching wasn’t in front of me, it was everywhere around me, and it was exhilarating and transformative.

(If I could put this part in a footnote, I would, but I don’t know how to, so: I should mention that I am very far from a musical theater aficionado. I have seen maybe eight musicals in my life. Not only did I not expect to cry, hard, during Hamilton, I did not expect to enjoy it. I saw it like a week after it opened on Broadway, kind of on a whim, knew nothing about it, and the last thing I said to my wife, as the lights went down, was: “We’ll leave at intermission.”)

The second time I saw it, that moment came much earlier (I knew what I was getting into, this time, so I was more ready to be subsumed). It came barely three minutes in, when the entire cast of the show, in a piece of choreography that can best be referred to as “badass,” all walk down to the very front of the stage and stand, shoulder to shoulder, and sing very loudly about how Alexander Hamilton never learned to take his time. The cast has, to this point, trickled on stage, slowly, one by one, telling you Hamilton’s origin story, and then suddenly there they all are, all of them – maybe 20? 50? It seems like 1000? – as close to the audience as they can get, and they are every size and ethnicity and gender, and their voices are loud, and I thought to myself, oh my God, this is a cast of people descended from every nation on Earth, all singing about the foundations of the American experience, and yes I “knew” that, intellectually, but holy shit, now that I see them all, I know it, like in my stomach, I understand it, and what a thing that is.

The third time I saw Hamilton, that moment was during “It’s Quiet Uptown,” when this enormous, sprawling, improbable, otherworldly, multi-ethnic, historical, art tornado presses pause on all of its historical-cultural-ethno-sociological-artistic investigations, and spends four and a half spare minutes with a couple who are grieving an unimaginable tragedy.  Specifically, it was the lines

Forgiveness
Can you imagine?
Forgiveness
Can you imagine?

What a thing to do, for your characters – to give them four and a half minutes in the middle of an enormous, sprawling, historical swirl, to just be sad. What a piece of writing that is.

(Again, should be a footnote, but: as long as I’m talking about writers here, I should point out that if the late Harris Wittels were alive, he would, at this moment, text me and hit me with a “humblebrag” for writing about how I have seen Hamilton three times, and he would be right. Miss you Harris!)

In the hundreds of hours of my life I have spent thinking about Hamilton since I first saw it – far more hours than any other single piece of art I have ever experienced – I have revisited that same thought over and over: he never should’ve written it. It was an absurd thing to do. It took him a year to write the title song, then another year to write the second song, and how did he not give up when two years had gone by and he’d written two songs?  He must’ve known in his heart it needed to be a 50-song, 2 ½-hour enterprise, and he had two songs after two years, and he kept going. How did he keep going? I’ve been trying to write this blog post about two writers I admire for different reasons since the week Tom Petty died, and I’ve almost given up five times.

At this point, the entire musical is that “moment” for me. It’s the whole thing, now – the thing that overwhelms me is the whole thing. The conception of it, the writing of it, the rewriting of it. The music and the motifs and the themes and the threads and the dramatic shape and the characters and their inner lives, and the eagle-eye writer’s view it took to keep all of that in his head, all of it, the whole time. The writing of it. The utterly impossible writing of it. 

Yin and Yang in The Last Jedi

Ok, I’m going to try to list all the instances where Yin and Yang appear in the movie. They really did beat us in the head with this symbolism, didn’t they.

Some of the images I included aren’t so much Yin/Yang symbolism as things divided in two, which is another recurring theme and it is related to it. I love to find symbolism everywhere and you can’t stop me.

At the end I’ll link a couple of metas that treat the subject, which inspired this post. I want to thank, from the bottom of my heart, all the wonderful and talented people of this fandom who wrote them. This post is partly made in the hope that it will help you to write more. And congratulations. We won.

This will probably be edited many times. Feedback is more than welcome. Also, someday my prince will come and we’ll have HD pictures. For now, this will have to do.

THIS IS A VERY LONG-ASS POST AND I DON’T EVEN GET INTO AN IN-DEPTH ANALYSIS LIKE I WOULD LIKE TO.

So, without further ado, I give you the list:

- The cave symbol in Ach-To:

- The Tico sisters’ medallion, also refered to as the “perfect conductor”:

- Leia’s ring:

- Kylo’s fucking face:

- Actually, also Snoke’s face, but I don’t want to post a picture; it would make my eyes sad (and I suspect yours too).

- I can’t find any good shots but I bet my boots that Finn’s jacket is divided diagonally just like Kylo’s face. Unrelated: the thought of Poe stitching the jacket back together brings fuzzy feelings to my heart area. You can pry that headcanon from my cold, dead hands.

- Also, not really imagery, but I feel that Finn’s learning of the war’s profits, the whole two-sides-of-the-same-coin lesson also applies. Which brings us to:

- The whole Canto Bight wardrobe aesthetic. I mean, they took the trouble to show people walking paired very specifically: you see people dressed in black with people dressed in white. And it’s also in individual wardrobe choices. They weren’t even subtle about it. Like, at all.

I MEAN LOOK AT THE WOMAN AT THE BOTTOM LEFT’S WEIRD UP-DO:

Even the police guards, for fuck’s sake.

- The elevator scene:

Thanks to @discorded-psychicemotions​, @we-are-bellarke​, @frog-coins​ and @random-fangirl-confessions​ for pointing that one out, HOW COULD I HAVE MISSED IT.

- Anakin’s lightsaber:

Even the black side of the hilt is turned towards Rey and if that isn’t poetic cinema I don’t know what is.

- They also divided Snoke in two would you look at that.

- T H E  F U C K I N G  F I G H T S C E N E

I would post 94567293 shots of this scene but why try to grasp p e r f e c t i o n.

- Also saw the symbolism in the cave scene (when she asks to see her parents and sees two figures aproaching and they become one and the blurry reflection sure as hell looks a lot like Ben and then the barrier vanishes and she sees herself). What, pray tell, the fuck.

- Also, the lighting in all the force bond scenes was reminiscent of Yin and Yang. I’m not going to take screenshots right now. I am tired.

- The gold dice. They’re not really remotely Yin and Yang related but I feel there’s something more to them than Han’s memory.

- I also noticed that every time there was a shot of the sun in Luke’s last scenes (you know, where he dissapears along with what was left of my heart) there was always a cloud covering half its face. Look, I have proof:

This one is just blatantly obvious:

And when I saw this one, the TWO SUNS resembling TWO YIN AND YANGS I almost lost it then and there and it may or may not have been related to the fact that I smuggled a flask of wine to the theatre and my feelings were running rampant don’t judge me.

By the way, if you want to have your mind absolutely BLOWN, read this meta by @frolickingfizzgig about the significance of the sun in Kylo Ren’s story. It just adds so much to what I’m saying.

- And, finally, just a bunch of beautiful random shots where they just shove the symbolism down our throats, with varying levels of subtlety:

There was a shot of Rey training with the lightsaber which showed a very clear Yin and Yang shape in the sky. I wasn’t the one who noticed it, someone else did, but for the life of me I can’t find the original post and I want to credit them. Help! 

Luke and his always iconic fashion choices:

This is a work of art I like to call “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?”:

And, ah yes, fuck my heart:

I think this is it. For now.

For further reading, please direct your attention to:

Yin and Yang traits and how they relate to Ren and Rey. by @geminiwankenobi

Mirroring, opposites and the personification of Yin Yang in the final fight between Kylo Ren and Rey. also by @geminiwankenobi

Dark Feminine, Light Masculine: Examining the Gendered Balance of the Force in Star Wars by @legalist217 

And just read anything by @ohtze and thank me later.

You know what, fuck it, here’s the link to the whole Reylo meta library. Everything and everyone who writes is awesome: http://could-reylo-be-canon-today.tumblr.com/post/143655702421/reylo-meta-library-20

It Started With The Eggnog

@imcalledweasley requested: “Ok so I was thinking kylo ren x reader au where they’re like best friends or some thing (solo triplets Matt Ben & kylo) and Leia and han host a Christmas party, and like once the party’s over reader & kylo carry on drinking and fuck?”

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: this is….. filthy

“And… there.” Ben puffed, finally relaxing his arms as the final decorations were put up.

Leia smiled brightly at Ben and Matt as they climbed down from their ladders. “It looks wonderful boys.” She gathered them both in for a quick hug. “I only wish your brother could have helped.”

Matt snorted, pushing his frames up on his nose. “He’s too busy mourning Halloween to come down.”

“If he had half as much holiday spirit as you two he’d be jumping at the chance.” Han chimed from the kitchen, busy with preparing the food.

The blonde son smirked at the remark and watched as his brother gave him a warning look. He went ahead and said what was on his mind anyway.

“He’d be a lot merrier if he knew (Y/n) just texted to say she can make it.”

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Keith Kogan: A Portrayal of Homosexuality Done Right

I always tell people that Voltron is a lot more clever than it gets credit for. It can spin a cliche/trope on it’s head beautifully, and while all the characters are easily digestible archetypes (i.e: the nerd, the loner), the creators add layers to them that not only make them feel like real people, but also makes social commentary on those very archetypes.

In no better way do they do this than with the character of Keith.

Before I get into how and why Keith deviates from you’re typical gay male protagonist, I want to establish as a fact that Keith is homosexual.

If you don’t see - what I consider to be - blatant evidence that Keith’s gay, well, I can’t say I blame you. Most people have ingrained heteronormative lenses, meaning they’ll miss the subtext of homosexual characters. Us in the LGBT community are much more attuned to seeing these because, well, for one, we’re queer, and two, because up until around the 1960s, the portrayal of gay characters in the media was illegal and could only be shown subtextually.

So it makes sense that people overlook the very nuanced portrayal of Keith’s sexuality, but if you’re willing to take off those lenses, it’s certainly there.

The first standout appearance of this is in season 1 episode 6: Taking Flight. Or as I like to call it, the day the shows name officially changed to Gaytron: Legendary Homosexuals

I think one of the disconnects for some viewers is that they don’t completely grasp the saying, “Show don’t tell,” the mantra of pretty much every writer. Not always, but typically, showing is better than telling. Or more accurately, telling needs to be used at the correct times and for the right reasons.

So how do they show us that Keith’s gay in this episode? Through three things, body language, actions, and juxtaposition.

You don’t have to be a body language specialist to understand the clear meaning behind Keith’s posture. Leaning, looking someone up and down, and a small, lingering smile/smirk are all subconscious signs of attraction. They’re also common ways of depicting male attraction in the media.

Speaking of depicting male attraction, lets look at how Lance’s flirts in the same episode.

Leaning. Check. Lingering smile. Check. Engaged eye contact. Check. The biggest difference is how blatant they are in their intentions, but that comes down to pure character difference. Keith is self assured and more genuinely confident. He also has a lot of walls up and isn’t so open. While Lance puts on a show/over compensates so that he might appear cool. You can also see this in their respective ‘I’m-checking-you-out’ postures. Lance’s body is open, he’s engaged and his eyes are on Nyma’s eyes. While Keith’s posture is interested, but more in an appreciative way. His body is closed off, and instead of looking Rolo in the eyes, he looks at his - um - physique. This is really fitting for Keith’s character, who again, has walls, and who also puts this mission first, and most likely has no intention of letting this attraction lead to anything other than having a nice piece of eye candy around for a couple of hours.

This is textbook juxtaposition. So moving along now.

I don’t want this to be a shippy post, so I won’t add all the times I think Keith shows attraction towards Lance, but I do want to mention this scene.

The use of the rainbow(the most recognizable symbol in the gay community) over lapping the bi flag colors is relevant for the same reason why the use of purple to symbolize the Galra is relevant. Purple represents royalty, imperialism, but also gloom and danger. The use of these colors and symbols are conscious choices.

While the above scene shows that Keith is attracted to men, this scene shows that Keith is also not attracted to woman.

What I love about this scene is that it’s such a cliche, and like I said up above, Voltron is good at turning those on their head. Here they utilize the tiered and true trope of accidentally falling into each others arms. If this was a hetero-centric Romcom than this moment would’ve been obviously meant to establish attraction, but instead, it does the opposite. Rather Keith personally likes Allura or not, she’s a knock out. So, if he’s attracted to women at all, and isn’t use to having that contact- which hes not - he should be at least somewhat shocked/flustered. If it had been an attractive guy that fell into Keith’s arms, I have no doubt that his reactions would be something beyond that blank stare. Considering he literally gasps every time Lance touches him

The last piece of “evidence” I want to show isn’t as blatant and may just be my perspective, but it’s worth mentioning.

The themes of Keith’s Galra arc are very reminiscent to coming out. He’s discovering parts of himself. He’s internalizing and hiding away said parts. He’s scared of what the people he cares about will think of him when they find out. If this is intentional, it’s brilliant, because while Voltron is set in a futurist world where sexuality is supposedly not an Issue, it still is for the youth of today. Meaning by having these similar themes, Keith becomes more relatable to LGBT people.

This is the part where, if you still don’t think Keith’s gay, I’ll have to calmly yet firmly ask you to get off my fucking lawn. For the rest of you, onward to victory!!!

LGBT individuals have a history of being badly represented in the media, especially now that gay characters have become a marketing strategy for a more progressive consumer base. Their whole character is often reduced to stereotypes or used as a giant walking gay pride flag that reads: look at us, we’re hip and with the times. Meaning, the majority of these characters plots and personalities are based solely on their sexuality. Which is a problem, because not only does it not help to normalize homosexuality, but it’s just not relatable to LGBT people.

I’ll give you an example. My mom’s a lesbian. She married to a woman and has two daughters, one who is trans and one who is bi. But despite how “gay"her life may seem, she very rarely describes herself as that way. She’s not active in LGBT issues. She doesn’t involve herself in the community. Shes not lesbian first and everything else afterward, and she is certainly not alone in that experience. Don’t get me wrong, LGBT individuals are more aware of their sexuality than cishet people, but it’s typically only because others point it out and remind us that its not "normal.” Still, for a lot of LGBT people, our sexuality is just one part of our personal narrative, not the whole damn book.

Another problem with LGBT representations is that their often just built off of stereotypes. Gay men are feminized and their sexuality is typically made the butt of a joke. They are shown as being promiscuous and having commitment issues. These are the standards.

But Keith abolishes all of those, and in such a seamless way too.

While Keith’s character is in no way excessively macho, he’s certainly not feminine either. He doesn’t mind getting sweaty. He’s temperamental and has anger issue. He lived a pretty low maintenance life in a desert shack, sleeps in his jeans like a heathen, and probably uses a dagger to peel oranges. Keith is a masculine character. He’s confident and self assured, but not vain. He’s emotional, but in a very private way. Whereas many other portrayal of gay men depict them as almost theatrically sensitive, confident, but only in their sexual prowess, and self absorbed, but only when it come to their looks and not when it comes to their skills.

This is already an impressive deviation, but what really makes Keith’s portrayal stand out is the way his sexuality is but a mere footnote in what makes his character his character, and how that fits into his personality and story arc so well.

The first thing you have to realize about Keith is that, while he certainly wants to connect with people, it’s not his number one priority. He has barriers. He fears rejection, and despite wanting to feel as if he belongs, its not hard to see how Keith has been conditioned to assume he’ll inevitability be left behind, and therefore places personal relationships low on his list of priorities. Meaning, yes, he was checking out Rolo, and yes, I believe that he’s very very fond of Lance, but I can’t imagine that Keith really sees these relationships becoming something substantial or romantic, and thus doesn’t put too much effort into perusing them. You can really tell what’s important to a character by what they focus their time on. Take Lance for instance, he’s a character who blatantly cares about friendships and has no problem openly flirting. That’s not to say Lance doesn’t care about the war, just like Keith’s reluctance to pursue meaningful bonds doesn’t mean he doesn’t want them. It just means that relationships and love obviously mean a lot to Lance.

So what does Keith focus on? Well, he shows the most focus on relationships in season one, when the connections he had with his makeshift family was the post pressing thing going on. (You cant really form Voltron if you don’t connect with the other members) But after season one, with all the changes Keith goes through, we see a big shift in his priorities. First he finds out about his heritage, then Shiro disappears and he is thrust into leadership, and then most recently, he joins the Blade.

By framing Keith’s character like this, it allows the creators to make his sexuality natural and relatable in a very interesting way. Because as LGBT people know, our sexuality isn’t the most important part of our lives. Just like Keith, we have more to focus on.

That’s not to say that his sexuality will never be shown explicitly. Like I said, I don’t want to get too shippy, but I truly believe that Laith is endgame. So if and when that happens, his sexuality will naturally come into play. Sadly, their will be a lot of people who call it forced because they missed the subtext and are use to seeing gay characters depicted more as spectacles than real people.

Voltron has really done something special here. They’ve create a universe where sexuality isn’t an issue, and they make it believable by never bringing it up outside of naturally occurring, unforced, appropriate context. Even better, because the Voltron universe is so vastly different than our own, it would’ve been easy to make LGBT characters that we couldn’t relate to, but they don’t. They manage this so well that I honestly can’t phantom Keith’s sexuality being anything but homosexual despite the fact it’s never been explicitly shown.

But most importantly, they’re creating a higher standard for LGBT representation. They are normalizing it on a show aimed towards children who are heavily influenced by the media they consume.


That, my friends, is worth applauding.

the-sarcastic-one  asked:

Something I thought you'd find interesting; Awhile back, I had to drive up to Bentonville, AR(birthplace of Walmart) and on the 3 hr drive back home I saw something strange. I had stopped to get gas just off the highway; it was a rest stop with 2 gas stations directly across from each other, and nothing else but farm fields and empty road for miles. It was about 2 am and the place was deserted. The gas station I chose, while very empty, gave off your typical middle-of-the-night gas station vibes

the one across the road however… Did Not. It was a Shell station, and the whole thing looked abandoned. The parking lot was badly cracked and had grass and weeds growing everywhere, some of the fuel nozzles appeared to have been ripped out, and the overhang was leaning dangerously. But. All the lights were on, and even though some of the windows were boarded, you still had a good view of the interior. It looked… well stocked? Like the cashier had just wandered into the back for a sec 2/3

and would be back at any time. But it was still off, somehow, in a way I can’t really explain. Just… wrong. Oh! And the lights on the Shell sign worked too! Except, the ’s’ was burnt out, so it just said: ‘HELL’. Definitely the creepiest thing I’ve seen while driving at night so far. Do you think there’s any chance I accidentally wandered too close to the entrance to another dimension? 3/3


OH MAN ENTROPY-RIDDLED GAS STATIONS ARE MY FAVORITE.  

DOUBLY SO ENTROPY-RIDDLED GAS STATIONS IN PLACES WHERE GREAT EVIL WAS SPAWNED AW YEAH.  I love the juxtaposition of decaying roof and weed-filled lot with the clean and well-stocked interior.  Differing levels of entropy is my fave aesthetic.   The “HELL” and missing cashier is a nice touch too.  In spite of appearances, it’s not that dangerous a place if you mind your manners, don’t go under the structurally compromised part of the overhang and bring along the tire iron if you want o go around back.

You def should have bought a candy bar. If you pay for it and toss a buck in the tip jar it’s not cursed.  Say hi to the cashier, ask what they do for fun around there the answer will be incredible- There’s a similar Shell with the burnt-out S and a shambling restaurant named “Boogie’s” next door in Del Norte that I ALWAYS stop at going to and from Durango.  They always remember me becuase I show up pretty much exactly at the same time on the same days every year and make a point of being friendly. Chelsea’s a really nice lady who keeps bees and her son gave me a drawing of a tiger for my fridge.

Also wander around the back to look for sets of eyes glowing back at you from under the dumpster.  Whatever eats there is full of chaotic energies and of immense power but probably also lonely.   Say hi to them.  Don’t feed the wildlife though that’s never a good idea.  One of the Sonocos in Ravenna has a large gray dog that sleeps behind the store under the AC unit.  She’s there every single time I’ve been to Ohio since 1997.  She’s had a white muzzle and arthritis but remains otherwise unchanged, always sitting up and wagging her tail when you come by.

It’s also a great place to pick up a rider if you need one. Most people who have to drive cross-country will tell you to put something in the front seat to keep anything from climbing in with you- a box or a plant but NOT a toy or doll, those can get inhabited.  And most of the time you’d be right- things like to sit in unoccupied chairs but most of them don’t actually want to leave, and are very upset if you ‘kidnap’ them.  The ones that climb into cars while you’re in motion are rude and wicked pranksters at best.  Sometimes, however, you’ll find one who needs to get out of town and on certain roads, you want to have something else in the car.

The stretch of I-80 between Green river Wyoming and Laramie is the worst goddamn part of interstate in the country and I have driven over most of it by now.  It’s dangerously boring, poorly maintained and exposed to the elements and there’s been a white-out blizzard or hurricane-force windstorm every single time I’ve been on it. As in, the only indication of where the road actualyl IS are those tiny little reflective poles they out up every 1/10th of a mile and you can’t drive over 15 mph becuase the wind is ready to flip your tiny Honda off the road becuase fuck you that’s why.

Most of the time I can find a Fedex truck to stick close behind and drive in the half-second of exposed road in their wake but in January 2014 I was coming back from a funeral in Salt Lake City and it was shaping up to be another nasty whiteout drive with nary a truck in sight.  I didn’t have the money to stay in a hotel and it was already getting late and i didn’t want to get stranded if they closed the highway.  I also sure as hell didn’t want to drive that Alone.

So I pulled into the Exxon in Green River, Wyoming.  It’s a silent and lonely place at the best of times but just after sunset in the middle of January when it’s 10 degrees out is just miserable. You step out and are immediately filled with the compulsion to be Anywhere Else.  I pulled up, started filling the tank, then walked around and opened the passenger side door, taking the bag of chips out of the seat.

“Alright here’s the deal-” I announced, leaning against the car and staring at the towers of granite half-buried by the surrounding dessert, dark shapes in a blue-gray sky. “You don’t want to be here, and I don’t want to drive this next bit alone.  I can take you as far as Laramie if you get me through this.  It’s nice.  They have trees and an inexplicably good sushi place.  I’ll drive you, but you have to get out there.  Deal?”  I waited, staring at the towers and Nothing Else, listening to the pump tick until the door shut against the wind.

It was still a white-knuckle drive, headlights on low becuase high-beams only caught the driving snow, wind barreling into the Honda in random gusts, occasionally shoving me into oncoming traffic for a second before I could correct, heart at a constant staccato and bile in my throat.  I didn’t look over at the passenger side more than I had to out of courtesy- things remain unseen for a reason. I got the impression of tall and long-faced and just as terrified as I was but DAMN if the car stuck to the road in spite of the ice, there were no oncoming cars when I got shoved and we even made good time in a few places.  We pulled into the Inexplicably Good Sushi place at the interchange of I-80 and 287 and I put my head on the wheel and cried for a good minute.

“Thank you very much.” I eventually managed. “You were very helpful. I’m gonna get takeout, do you want a Marylin Mon-roll to celebrate?”

“That would be nice.”

“Cool. I’ll leave it on the stump there for you.”

I came back out with takeout, left him his sushi and we parted ways, and I drove the remaining hour back home.

long lost | jjk

summary: jeon jungkook is famous, talented, and on the hunt for his childhood friend and first love. you are self-deprecating, a little awkward, and exactly who he’s looking for. only, there’s one (1; single, a solo) problem: he doesn’t know it. 

{childhood friends!au, celebrity!au}

pairing: jungkook x female reader
word count: 15k
genre: fluff, comedy, light angst
warnings: n/a
a/n: finally!!! after literally a month of no bts writing, here is this 15k beast that i’ve been hyping up. inspired by true events, kinda. i will work on getting the sorted series out next, so please be on the lookout! 

Keep reading

I think a big part of how I see the world is that -

In college I was sick. In particular I was anorexic, and I nearly starved myself to death. I never accomplished anything, made commitments I couldn’t keep, lost track of time, and struggled with the most basic life tasks. I was anxious (mostly because I correctly knew that everything was going horribly) and lazy (because I could not possibly do enough things to matter, and doing things was hard and hurt) and unreliable and terrible. I ended up owing people a lot of money (I have since paid them all back) and failing at things that were really important to me and to other people.

And now I am in a good environment for me. I live with people who I can be reasonably assured don’t hate me and will tell me when they need me to do things differently, and I am no longer anxious. My work has clear expectations and is bite-sized and doesn’t pile up on me, and I reliably deliver it and do a good job. I have enough money I don’t have to deal with the mental overhead of deciding whether to buy the food I want, and I spend that mental overhead on better things. I am still messy and I am still bad at getting places on time, but I’m never late on rent. I am mostly a productive, honest, trustworthy, reliable person and I’m getting better at those things. I have friends and kiss girls (and the occasional boy) and I make a positive difference in peoples’ lives.

Some of the difference was immaturity and lack of skills; much of the difference is that I had starved my brain until it stopped functioning; much of the difference was that I was in an environment that was not shaped to my strengths. But living through it gave me this powerful sense that the difference between a “lazy” person and a “successful” person, between a reliable person and an unreliable person, between a “good” person and a “bad” person, is a lot about whether they are in an environment shaped to their strengths. That almost everybody will be great in the right environment and really really struggle in a bad one. And some people have never ever encountered a bad one and think they’re just inherently great; and some people have never encountered a good one, and think they’re just inherently miserable and hard to get along with and unreliable and untrustworthy.

I absolutely think people are still accountable for the things they do in bad environments. I’ve worked really hard to fix the things I fucked up at when I was sick, and I don’t mean “it’s all the environment” to mean “it’s not you”. Just - the same you who was miserable and did bad things will be happy and do good things, in better circumstances, and lots of the human project is building those circumstances. 

I don’t know how to give everyone an environment in which they’ll thrive. It’s probably absurdly hard, in lots of cases it is, in practical terms, impossible. But I basically always feel like it’s the point, and that anything else is missing the point. There are people whose brains are permanently-given-our-current-capabilities stuck functioning the way my brain functioned when I was very sick. And I encounter, sometimes, “individual responsibility” people who say “lazy, unproductive, unreliable people who choose not to work choose their circumstances; if they go to bed hungry then, yes, they deserve to be hungry; what else could ‘deserve’ possibly mean?” They don’t think they’re talking to me; I have a six-figure tech job and do it well and save for retirement and pay my bills, just like them. But I did not deserve to be hungry when I was sick, either, and I would not deserve to be hungry if I’d never gotten better.

What else could ‘deserve’ possibly mean? When I use it, I am pointing at the ‘give everyone an environment in which they’ll thrive’ thing. People with terminal cancer deserve a cure even though right now we don’t have one; deserving isn’t a claim about what we have, but about what we would want to give out if we had it. And so, to me, horrible people who abuse others all the time deserve an environment in which they would thrive and not be able to abuse others, even if we can’t provide one and don’t even have any idea what it would look like and sensibly are prioritizing other people who don’t abuse others. If you have experiences, you deserve good experiences; if you have feelings, you deserve happy feelings; if you want to be loved, you are worthy of love. You flourishing is a moral good; everybody flourishing is in fact the only moral good, the entire thing morality is for. Your actions should have consequences, sure, and we should figure out how to build a world where those consequences are ones that you can handle, and where you can amend the things that you do wrong. When you hurt people, that can change what “you thriving” looks like, because part of thriving is fixing, and growing from, things you have done wrong; but nothing you do can change that it is good for you to thrive.

I reject that I ever deserved to starve, and so I reject that anyone, ever, deserves to starve. I reject that I ever deserved to suffer, and so I reject that anyone, ever, deserves to suffer. Happiness is good. Your happiness is good. And without a single exception anywhere I want you to thrive.

Quirks and Genetics

Disclaimer: I do not study genetics/biology, this is not my major and what I’m saying here is all very basic, product of my own interest in the topic. It might have mistakes on it and miss some things (by all means, correct them). It was born from excitement and from a wish to understand it better. It also makes some inferences as we don’t have that much information in canon. It involves a lot of conjecture. TL;DR: all that follows here may very well be complete bollocks.

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s take a look in one of the only instances of explanation about quirk function we have in canon.

Alright, so we have some very useful information here. However, the explanation is a bit confusing, so I want to break it down: Aizawa states his quirk does not attack the quirk itself, but instead halts the quirk factor. And then there’s the addition of the plus alpha. I believe he is talking about two different things. Using the example from the manga:

  • Tail (Quirk) + Mechanism to move the tail (Plus Alpha) = Quirk Factor.

That’s my conclusion. Ultimately Erasure can halt the Plus Alpha temporarily, but it is not affecting the quirk directly. The quirk erasing bullets (and Eri’s quirk), despite its name, affects the functioning of the Quirk Factor by causing damage to the Plus Alpha.

Let’s use Midoriya as an example. He is quirkless, but in order for him to be able to use a quirk (OfA) then it means that he must have a Plus Alpha. It stands to logic that, without the mechanism, he could not use the quirk even if he had the quirk to begin with. Basically, without the presence of a Quirk to activate Plus Alpha it becomes a useless/inactive mechanism in the body.

Working with this framework, we can perhaps safely assume that everyone in the BNHA universe most likely has a Plus Alpha, but not everyone has a Quirk. That is, they have the gene for the Plus Alpha expressed, but not everyone inherited the Quirk that would activate or link to Plus Alpha.

This is the logic I will be working with. Everyone has a Plus Alpha*, not everyone has a Quirk. Let’s move on.

> Quirk Inheritance

I believe that the pattern of inheritance for quirks is based on a dominant gene. Let’s just explain this quickly as I will be using some language as we go along: homozygous are genotypes of a pair of dominant/recessive chromosome alleles (AA, aa), heterozygous are pairs of mixed alleles (Aa). Dominant traits only need one allele to be observed phenotypically, whereas a recessive trait needs both alleles, according to Mendel.

Using that logic, for someone to inherit a quirk, they would have to receive at least one dominant allele for the quirk expression from their parents. This may explain why quirks became so quickly widespread in the overall population since they first appeared, as opposed of them being recessive. This can affect both if you are going to inherit a quirk, as well as which quirk you are going to inherit.

Let me explain using Midoriya as an example again. Both his parents have a quirk, but he was quirkless just the same - the odds are small but they are real. This can mean that both his parents are heterozygous (Aa), in which their dominant allele is their quirk and the recessive allele is “no quirk”. Something like this:

A(quirk)a(no quirk):

  • Both parents: Aa
  • Possible combinations: AA (25%), Aa (50%), aa (25%)
  • Izuku: aa

So Izuku ended up quirkless because he inherited two recessive genes that did not carry any quirk. This also means that if one of the parents has a dominant homozygous gene for their quirk (AA) it is impossible for the child to be born quirkless even if the other parent does have a recessive “no quirk” gene.

However, in my opinion, the recessive genes can also carry another quirk that is simply not expressed on the parents, but might have been expressed on the grandparents. So, a quirk may jump a generation and someone can carry a quirk gene without necessarily having that quirk expressed, and being a recessive homozygous doesn’t necessarily mean that you are quirkless.

Alternatively, it can also be that it is an interaction of different pairs. For example, a pair of chromosomes may decide if you have a quirk expression or a no-quirk expression. Another pair (or two pairs) may decide which quirk you get. Either way, it’s going to be looking very similar.

But what about quirk marriage?

This is where things begin to get more interesting. Now, we don’t have that many known examples of quirk marriages characters, and the main examples are Todoroki Shouto and Bakugou Katsuki (and I have reasons to believe Aizawa also has a married quirk, but that’s another story entirely).

Todoroki’s story tells us some neat things. One of them is that it is very hard indeed to get a child to be born with a married quirk. His parents had borne 3 children before finally Shouto came along. This tells us that the concept of quirks being passed by a dominant allele is rather credible – as well as the more probable way in which a married quirk will be expressed.

One way it could go is that if a child ends up being dominant homozygous (AA), then they should probably inherit “both” the quirks - and how those genes would express themselves is another point entirely. It could also happen (perhaps more rarely) with the child being heterozygous (Aa), in which one of the parent’s quirk is recessive homozygous (aa). So here are the options:

  • Mother: Aa
  • Father: Aa
  • Possibilities: AA (25%), Aa (50%), aa (25%)

Or:

  • Mother/father (vice versa): Aa, aa
  • Possibilities: Aa (50%), aa (50%)

The reason why I think that would be the case, is because an AA would mean automatically a married quirk, whereas Aa can mean a married quirk depending on the circumstances. Shouto could be any of these two, the result would probably be the same.

But it doesn’t end there. If there’s something that confuses people a lot when coming up with quirk marriages ideas or their own OC’s quirks, is how exactly does married quirks get expressed. I reckon there’s plenty of debate in that area, so let’s try to settle it.

I think there are types of married quirks.

Or maybe, that a quirk marriage happens when dominance behaves differently than expected (which would be the complete dominance we’ve been talking about).

Originally posted by the-last-95

Todoroki‘s quirk have a similar expression as that of codominance. Which is when both traits of the parents are somewhat equally present in their offspring (usually on heterozygous). I don’t want to say that genetically a married quirk would have to be heterozygous and would need to have codominance, I’m just using it as an example of how his quirk behaves. If you pay close attention to Todoroki, you will notice that his quirk, rather than being a mixture of his parent’s quirks (which then would give him a whole new quirk, something like A+B=C. Whereas his looks more like A+B=AB) behaves more like two quirks in one body, sharing the space. He can even manipulate those powers separately. So, he has both quirks of his parents somehow expressed, behaving a lot like the concept of codominance.

Bakugou quirk, however, looks more like Partial Dominance. Which is when the offspring phenotype seems to express a mixture (or middle ground) of both parent’s traits. His mother has glycerine on her sweat, and his father has an acidic sweat that can create explosions sometimes. Different from Todoroki, Bakugou cannot manipulate and separate these two abilities as if they are independent from each other, his quirk being instead a fusion of those quirks to create a brand new one (A+B=C). Like a flower offspring between a red and white flower being pink.

To summarize, quirks can either be inherited with:

  • Complete Dominance -> receiving the same quirk as one of the parents (Example: Jirou Kyouka)
  • Codominance -> receiving both quirks somewhat equally (Example: Todoroki Shouto)
  • Partial Dominance -> manifest a quirk that is a mixture/intermediate of both parent’s quirks (Example: Bakugou Katsuki)

This is outrageously long, but I hope it makes sense and it doesn’t have that many mistakes on it. If you have any questions or would like to debate this further, please do send in asks and whatnot i LOVE debating BNHA chars and worldbuilding.

I have some other ideas about Noumu’s, OfA, AfO and Eri’s quirk as well, but then it would be a bit much. I might do something about them at another point in time.


* Plus Alpha may be affected by Epigenetics.

P.s.: I want to reiterate this is very simplified and I am aware that genetic interactions are much more complex than this.

The Arrangement (pt 9)

“Is the child even mine, Y/N?”

You stare at him wide-eyed. Did he really just ask that? You felt like you couldn’t breathe in that moment. Jimin was actually being serious. He had actually thought that low of you. He had doubted your love and sincerity towards him. 
His faith in you had shattered and in turn, he had shattered your heart. 

You turned away from him, unable to look at him anymore. Jimin scoffed as you turned away, not noticing the single tear that fell from your eyes. You sat there in silence for another minute. Jimin was still fuming. He wanted answers from you and he wanted them now. 

Just as he was about to start yelling again, you cut him off. 

“You really want to know what’s going on between me and Tae?” you said with a straight face, wiping away the tears in your eyes. You take out your keys from your purse and push them into Jimin’s hands. “Go inside the house”

Jimin eyed the keys in his hands curiously. “Don’t avoid this conversation by telling me to go into the fucking house” he sneered at you. 

“Dammit Jimin just go into the house!” you almost yelled back. Jimin had finally noticed the pained expression on your face, but he didn’t care. He got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. You too had gotten out of the car, and walked lifelessly behind Jimin to the front door. 

Jimin managed to find the house keys amongst the many keychains you had and finally put the key in the door. As he tried to unlock the door, he noticed your hands in fists as you tried to control the shaking. You had wiped away your tears, but it was quite obvious that you were upset. 

Jimin finally unlocked the door and opened it to find a rather dark house. You both would usually leave at least a small lamp on so that you weren’t met with a dark house, but no such lights were on today. Jimin’s frustration only grew as he struggled to find the light switch near the entrance. Soon though, he found the switch and turned it on. 

“SURPRISE!!!” 

Jimin jumped back from the sudden burst of noise. Jimin looked around the house, only to find it full. Full of his family, friends, and various decorations. There in front of Jimin stood all of his favorite things. The most important people in his life and some of his friends he hadn’t seen in a very long time. There in front of him stood some family from out of the country that he had also missed seeing. There in front of him stood hundreds upon hundreds of decorations in all his favorite colors. Ballons were floating on the ceiling and banners and streamers filled the house. There was something childish yet classy about it and Jimin loved it. Jimin couldn’t even begin to take it all in. He just stood there and smiled at everyone like a fool, totally forgetting about the whole ordeal that happened in the car. 

Suddenly, a group of guys surrounded him and messed with his hair and gave him a few light hits and punches. “Happy Birthday, Jimin!” they said in turns. “Were you surprised??” asked Jungkook.

“How do you like it??” ask Namjoon. 

“We spent like hours with the decorations he better like it” said Hoseok.

“Hours? Well me and Y/N spent weeks, no months, planning this whole thing. We literally went shopping every week because she thought of something new to get. You must have known, right Jimin? Like weren’t you the least bit suspicious?” asked Taehyung as he threw his arm around Jimin’s shoulders. 

And that’s when it hit him. That’s when he remembered what he had just accused you of and Jimin’s heart sank. What had he just done. 

He turned around quickly, finally facing you with his eyes wide. You gave him the smallest of smiles and Jimin noticed your lips trembling as you tried your hardest to hold back tears and break down. “Happy Birthday, Jimin” you say in almost a whisper, but he could still hear it. 

He tries to reach out for you, but you walk away into the sea of guests. and before he can try again, he is greeted by more guests, blocking him entirely. 

You try your hardest to smile and greet guests, but you eventually excuse yourself to change into something a little comfortable. You all but run into your shared bedroom with Jimin and lock yourself into the bathroom. You finally let the tears fall freely and you cover your mouth to hold back the sobs. You don’t know how long you stood there in the bathroom, but by now you were numb. You can hear the party at full swing outside, with loud music and people talking. Surely no one would miss your presence. You realize you can’t stay in the bathroom forever though so you will yourself to get through just tonight. You wipe off all the tear-stained makeup and wash your face with warm water. But your eyes are still kind of red. You walk into your side of the closet and try to find something more suitable for the party. 

Jimin is finally free of most of the guests at this point and begins his search for you again. He had seen you talking to a few people, but that was at least half an hour ago. 

“Sweetheart, Happy Birthday” Jimin hears. His mom and dad walk up to him, arms open for a hug. Jimin gives them a warm smile, despite his mind being focused on finding you. 

“Thank you” he says as he returns the hug. 

“Jimin, this is your last birthday as just a married man! Come next birthday, you’ll be a father too” Jimins father said. He was probably more excited than Jimin for the baby to arrive. He couldn’t wait to spoil his grandchild. 

“That’s right Jimin! The baby will be here for your next birthday darling” his mother chimes. “Enjoy this while it lasts son. You and Y/N will have your hands full this time next year” she continues. 

“Uh.. speaking of Y/N, have you seen her?” Jimin asks nervously. 

“Oh, I believe I heard her saying that she was going to go change into something more comfortable. But she’s been missing for a while, Why don’t you go change and make sure she’s ok too sweetheart?” Jimins mom says as she practically pushes him in the direction of their shared room. 


Jimin walks nervously towards their room, not knowing how to approach you and beg for your forgiveness. Why did he ever doubt you? The look on your face when you had just wished him happy birthday haunted his mind. 

He opens the door to your shared room and to his surprise, it is also fully decorated. There are balloons dancing across the ceiling and twinkle lights around the room. Jimin walked further into the room sitting on the bed as he tried to take it all in. He noticed the light on inside the bathroom and realized you were inside. He looked around the room and realized just how much you had planned. You really had gone the extra mile. 

Jimin finally notices a wrapped present on his nightstand. It was beautifully wrapped with a bouncy bow on the top. He had no doubt in his mind that you wrapped it. 

He carefully ripped the wrapping paper off, only to be met with a white box. He slid the box open and Jimin was shocked. Inside laid the childhood book he had you about all those many nights ago, The Velveteen Rabbit. The book had been published many times, but Jimin had initially owned a very old copy, dating back to around the 50′s. When he tried to find the same book, he couldn’t find the same copy or anyone willing to sell. But the book that laid in front of him was something beyond his imagination. 

He opened up the front cover and looked at the first page. The publishing date of this book dated back to 1922, meaning this was the very first edition. This must have cost a fortune, let alone impossible to find. 

Inside the book also had a small card. Jimin took the card out and placed the book on the side of the bed. He carefully opened up the card to find your small and beautiful handwriting on a pretty birthday card.

Dearest Jimin,

Happy Birthday, sweets! I thank god for blessing me with you everyday. And I guess I’m also thanking your parents for what they did 22 years and 9 months ago. ;)

 I know that we didn’t get into this marriage by choice, but I can happily say now that I always, always will pick you. I love you so, so much. I know I’ve been busy these last couple of weeks, but I hope you finally understand why and hopefully this all makes up for it. Did you like your gift? You really weren’t kidding when you said it was hard to find! I hope one day in the future, we can read this book to our child and maybe they will love it as much as you do. You’re going to be a wonderful father, Jimin. I just know it. I can’t wait to meet our little baby in a few months! Ok, I’m rambling…in a letter. Anyways, love you baby. Hope you have a wonderful day <3

Love, 

Y/n

Jimins hands trembled as he read the letter. How could he have doubted your love for him? How could he have been so stupid? Just then, he heard the door of your bathroom and you emerge, seconds later. Jimin stands up and meets your eyes for the first time in a while. 

It’s obvious that you’ve been crying but you tried to cover it well. But he could still tell. The glow from your eyes were long gone. You look at Jimin with a blank expression, as if you had just seen right through him and it sends a shiver down his spine and it scared him. 

You break eye contact and start to make your way to your door but Jimin stops you as he grabs your wrists. “Baby I- I’m so sor-” he starts. But before he can finish, you yank your hand out of his and walk out the door, leaving Jimin alone in the room.

Jimin stood frozen in the room as the door slammed shut after you walked out. How was he going to make it up to you?


You had returned to the party and Jimin soon followed behind you but you had already started mingling with guests again. You refused to even look in Jimin’s direction. If you even felt him coming closer to you, you would make the effort to move away. 

Jimin noticed you avoiding him and it was hard to get to you. There were so many guests! But Jimin wasn’t the only one who noticed the change. Taehyung also noticed the second you tried to excuse yourself to go change. You seemed really upset and it was easy to see that it was because something had happened between you and Jimin. Though it wasn’t in his place to pry, he felt bad that you were so upset on the day you spent the last 2 months planning. 

Taehyung had found you amongst the crowd and the people you were talking to had excused themselves. You gave Taehyung a small smile, but even he could tell how forced it was. “hey…you okay?” he asks slowly, hoping not to get anyone else’s attention.

Your smile slowly fades only for you to give him a faker smile seconds later. “I’m fine, Tae. Why?” you say, hoping not to discuss anything at the moment. You knew that if you talked about it, you would end up crying again.

“H-have you been crying? I don’t mean to pry, but is everything ok between you and Jimin? I just don’t want you to be upset today after all you planning for it!” he says. 

But before you could answer, you felt arms snake around your waist. “Nothing is going on, Tae. Don’t worry about. And thanks again man for throwing me this party. You’ve planned it so well with Y/n” Jimin says, showing up out of the blue. You look up at Jimin, surprised that you didn’t see him coming. Both the anger and sadness filled you up again. Taehyung could practically see all the tension in the air. 

You pulled Jimin’s arms around your waist, rather forcefully. “Excuse me boys, but I’m going to set up the food” you say as you give Taehyung another fake smile and walk towards the kitchen, not even giving Jimin a glance.”

“Dude what the hell happened?” Taehyung asks Jimin, pulling him to a corner. 

“Nothing, just drop it” says Jimin, growing frustrated. 

“I usually would, but not today. Do you you have any idea how much time and effort your wife put into planning tonight? She’s been excited about this for months. She has poured her love into every step of planning, and yet here she looks like she’s going to breakdown at any second. Look, I get that it’s your birthday and you don’t want to be listening to this right now, but whatever it is that happened between you two, I hope you can make up. You’re my best friend, Jimin. But Y/N is a good friend now too” Taehyung explains.

Jimin looked at Taehyung with a pained expression. He knew he had hurt you badly. It was evident in your eyes. But Jimin didn’t want to tell his best friend that just moments before you of cheating with him. Come to think of it, it was stupid that he even doubted you. He should have known his best friend would never betray him like that. And more importantly, he should have known you would have never betrayed him like that. He should have never doubted you. But he couldn’t tell Taehyung, at least not now. “It’s none of your business Taehyung, so drop it. Whatever it is, it’s between me and Y/n, so stay out of it” Jimin says before walking away, not even seeing Taehyung’s hurt expression.


Jimin kept trying to get you alone after that multiple times, but you evaded him at all costs. It was hard to enjoy the party when he could only focus on you and making things right with you. Before he could attempt talking to you again though, he was called to cut a cake. Everyone starting singing happy birthday and people were pushing you to go stand next to Jimin. You stood there awkwardly as people were singing and Jimin kept looking at you. Finally the song was over and Jimin blew out the candles. People then started to chant “Kiss” in hopes of you to kiss the birthday boy. You kept trying to wave it off, but it seemed like no one was having it. Jimin looked at you hopefully. He didn’t care that everyone else was in the room. He just wanted to kiss you senseless and show you just how sorry he was and how much he had loved you. 

You turned to Jimin, and any smile you had one was quickly gone and Jimin’s heart sank. “Happy Birthday, Jimin” you said quietly as you kissed him on the cheek really quickly before turning to face everyone else. Jimin tried to keep his smile up, but people could kind of sense the tension at this point. 

You almost never called him Jimin anymore. It was always “sweets” or some other cute nickname you would come up with it. So when you use his real name, he knew it was serious. 


The rest of the party went rather slowly for both you and Jimin. People had started drinking and everyone was having their fun. Jimin tried to make the most of the party that you had worked for and decided that you needed your space for now. You on the other hand were just trying to make it through the rest of the night. Fortunately for you though, Taehyung and the rest of his friends had kept you company for the majority of the time.

 Pretty soon though, people filed out of the house. Though you had wanted the party to end, you were anxious now. You realized that after everyone would leave, you would be alone with Jimin and you really didn’t want that. You anxiously waited as one by one, the guests started to leave. Eventually your parents and Jimin’s parents were leaving too 

On their way out, Jimin’s mom pulled Jimin to the side. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but don’t keep a pregnant woman mad at you for too long, son. It’s not too good to keep the mother of your child angry at you. Trust me when I say your father can vouch for that” she says. Jimin gives her a small smile as she too leaves. Maybe you were just this mad because you were hormonal? He just needed to get you alone and he could work things out. 

Soon enough, there were just a few people left and they were all starting getting ready to leave too. One by one, they filed out, and you were getting more antsy by the second. One friend of Jimin’s though was quite drunk. His girlfriend struggled to even get him walking properly and since she was far smaller than him, she needed help getting him to the car. “Hey birthday boy, sorry to ask you of this, but could you help me get this drunk ass to our car? I don’t think I can support his weight” she asked. 

As much as Jimin wanted to just kick the remaining people out of his house, he knew he should help his friend. He turned to look back at you as you began to clean some things in the kitchen. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back in a second. I need to talk to you” he said before grabbing his friend by the shoulders and heading out the door. You said your goodbyes and then, it was just you in the house. You swallowed the lump in your throat and decided that you could clean everything else in the morning. You were both physically and emotionally drained. 

Before turning off the lights in the room, you took one more glance at all the decorations. “I hope he liked it..” you said out loud. 


Jimin practically threw his friend into the car before running back to the house. He yanked the door open, only to find the house somewhat dark again. He ran to his room, only to find the bathroom lights on. He was relieved that you were still here. For a moment, he thought you had left. 

How was he going to make this up to you? What words would make things right again? He called you a slut, he said he regretted marrying you. He asked if the child was even his, and he could practically see your heart break. He sat on the bed, running his hands through has hair nervously. 

Soon, you had finished your night time routine and you hadn’t even realized that you had started to cry again. You came out of the bathroom with your hand placed protectively over your stomach. The only comfort you had right now was the little one inside you. Oh how you just wanted to hold you baby soon. 

You jumped a little when you saw Jimin, not expecting him. You decided that you didn’t want to be in the same room as him for a while, so you walked to your side of the bed and grabbed your pillow while Jimin was trying to form the right words. Jimin noticed your tear stained face and he felt his heart drop at how sad you looked in that moment. You just look so drained, and he was the reason behind it all. 

“Y/N I’m so– wait what are you doing” he asked as you grabbed your pillow. You didn’t reply and instead you just made your way back to your old room, thankful that a bed was still there.

Jimin was surprised for a second and didn’t register what was happening. Recently, you had been saying that you found it hard to sleep without him there and he felt the same too. You always snuggled up to him at the end of the day and now, you didn’t even want to be in the same room? After a hot second, Jimin followed you.

“Wait, don’t just leave. Y/N I’m sorry, ok? Just look at me baby, please” he was pleading as he followed behind you like a lost dog. But you didnt reply and you were crying again. You practically ran the last few steps and before Jimin could reach you, you closed the door on his face and locked the door. You layed down on the bed and tried to calm your heart. You were so hurt, so tired. You just wanted to sleep. 

Jimin on the other hand was pounding on your door, not wanting you to sleep alone and in pain. He needed you as much as you needed him to sleep. And more than anything, he wanted your love for him again. 

“Baby, please” he said. “I’m sorry ok? I didn’t mean the things I said. Please, let me see you ok? Let me hold you tonight and we can talk through everything in the morning” he was begging. But you never opened the door, and Jimin knew to give up till the sun rose again. He was going to get you to forgive him, one way or another. No more mistakes, he thought to himself. No. More. Mistakes.


A/N: SORRY FOR THE WAIT. HERE IT IS. IDK IF I LIKE IT BUT I HOPE YOU DO. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GIVE ME SOME FEEDBACK. also lowkey need more angst so be prepared for that. 

Previous Parts: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

“You Love Me?”

Title: “You Love Me?”

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader

Type: Platonic | Romantic | Familial | Other

Warnings: angst, profanity, mentions of aids, mentions of neglectful parents.

Prompt: F13: “you love me?” “You have no idea.”

Never in your life did you dream you’d fall in love with Richie Tozier.

You’d known him since your diaper days - toddling about together, plump thighs and sticky mouths, with both of your parents watching - your’s attentively, Richie’s listlessly, bored, looking as though they wanted to be anywhere other than watching their only child take his first steps.

Growing up, shared rattle toys became shared peanut-butter sandwiches or bright-coloured hairclips pilfered from your mother’s china dish. Richie loved to wear those hairclips, more than even you. He’d stick an assortment of them into his unruly web of dark curls, specks of pink and lime and chrome swathed in a brunette tide.

Richie had always been… spacey, almost. From the first time, in third grade, you could cross the road on your own (“be very careful, Y/n. Remember to look both ways, and stop and listen for any cars, and never, ever cross on a bend.”) Richie’s parents gave no such forewarning, and it was with cheery ignorance he sauntered right into the - albeit, quiet - road on Monday morning.

Your hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar in childish alarm. “What are you doing? We have to look both ways first!”

“Oh yeah,” he returned cheerfully. “I forgot.”

Brushing off your scandalised look, he pointedly craned his neck left, then right, and then took your hand in his and pulled you from the curb with no warning. You shrieked at him all the way over the asphalt, sure a car would come from nowhere and career into you. When you scrambled onto the sidewalk on the opposite side, you ripped your hand from a giggling Richie’s grasp.

“That wasn’t funny!” you said shrilly. “I told you, we have to be careful when we cross a road, else we’ll both be hit by cars!”

“What happens when you get hit by a car?” Richie countered thoughtfully, as the two of you began walking. You paused to think, chewing your lip.

“We end up flat as pancakes, and the police have to peel us off the road,” you eventually returned triumphantly, but if your aim was to deter Richie, it backfired.

“Cool! I want to be a pancake!” declared the boy enthusiastically, but you merely shot him a frosty look and dragged him through the school gates.

You were there when Richie got his glasses, and the teasing started. Sneering jibes of “four-eyes” were brushed off, kids asking how many fingers they were holding up deflected with ease. You worried for Richie, the sensitive soul that you were, but he only ever laughed about it.

You were there when his parents stopped calling when they weren’t going to come home that night. Before, it was apologetic phone calls (“Richard, sweetie, we’re so sorry, the most silly thing - your father enjoyed himself a little too much at the gathering, you know how he likes his currant wine, only we thought it best to stay at the hotel tonight.”)

You found him hunched up by the side-table where the phone stood. The house was dark and cold - the heating wasn’t on. Richie looked like he hadn’t moved in years, a statue gathering dust, huddled against the wood of the table. You flurried around, snapping the lights on, straining to reach the boiler on tiptoe and turning the dial all the way up before scooting over to Richie and crossing your legs anxiously.

“What’s wrong, Richie?” you inquired. “Where are your parents?”

A pure stab of shock flashed through you at his sudden sob. Tears dripped down his screwed-up face, and when he spoke, his voice trembled. “I don’t know.”

Eventually, after a few phone calls, it was discovered that they were in New Jersey for an open evening of his father’s business. Richie stared at you, stricken, as you solemnly recited what the lady on the phone had told you. “But why didn’t they tell me?” he whispered. You didn’t know the answer to that, so you hugged him instead. He smelled of apple suckers and loneliness.

You were there in fourth grade when Richie discarded his mismatched sweaters and jeans for bright eyesores of Hawaiin shirts and jean-shorts and colourful sneakers. He traded his thin, wiry black glasses for thick red ones that made his eyes looked three times their normal size (you noticed what a pretty brown those irises were, then). He was there when your love for rainbow ponchos and ballet skirts and bracelets with bells on them faded in favour of garish maroons and olives and navies, overalls and sandals and short-shorts. He still wore the hairclips, sometimes - the dark red one that was always his favourite. The rest he kept in a small pot under his bed, along with a photo of you and him grinning toothily in first grade, tucked safe under the velvet lid.

You were there when Henry Bowers, held back for the third year running, decked him for the first time. He called Bowers a “son of a motherless whore” - something impressive-sounding he’d overheard on TV - when he saw him laying into the tiny asthmatic kid from world history. It hadn’t ended well, and you ended up wiping the blood from his nose and lips and teeth. He smiled sheepishly as you scolded him, but his apology was real as the blood staining the tissues. And another plus - from that day, you had three new friends. Stuttering Bill and Eddie Spaghetti and Stan the Man. You five were united as outcasts, not exactly a force to be reckoned with but certainly one that required brief consideration before attempting said reckoning - or whatever.

And in fifth grade, Richie hit some sort of tipping point.

He grew louder and more foul-mouthed, more enthusiastic in his spastic movements, and far more inclined to disrupt a class or smoke in the toilets or flunk school entirely. Then the remarks filtered in - intrusive and suggestive, comments on your legs or your chest or your mom. It annoyed you to no end, but you could think of no way to make him stop. Every time you snarked him or socked him on the shoulder, it made him slightly wilder, a shit-eating grin cracking his face in two - until you remembered something you’d seen once on telly. A man and a woman, and the man talked a lot. Whenever he talked too much, the woman would press a big red button that made a loud “BEEP BEEP” sound.

So, when the next remark came - “Hey Y/n - you have any other hobbies, ‘cept for being my own personal bicycle?” - you stared him dead in the eye and countered solemnly, “beep beep, Richie.”

He gaped at you like a fish out of water, speechless for the first time in years. “Did - did you just - beep me?”

From then on, it seemed to work to shut him down.

But it wasn’t until four months ago - when Georgie went missing, and you met Bev and Mike and Ben, and IT chased normalcy from your life did things between you and Richie start to shift.

You wanted to be with him every second - he was the longest-standing memory you had, the boy with hairclips in his curls who watered your head like a flower the first day of second grade. He was the one who poked your cheeks and called you “bubs” and yanked your ponytail and drew obscene images on your hand in permanent marker. He was the one who spent 70% of his time sleeping round your house when the silence of his was unbearable, who held you sombrely when you cried and cursed at the toughest of bullies in your honour. Richie was, to say with a flair for the dramatic, your life - mapped out in dark hair and freckles and lime sneakers, your other half.

The first time you wanted to kiss him was after the blood oath.

You hissed in pain as you wiped your hands absently on your black shorts. Richie walked beside you, gazing at the jagged cut on his palm with avid interest.

“I swear you can get AIDS from doing shit like this,” Richie commented as the both of you reached your bikes discarded in the grass.

You huffed a laugh. “Probably - but don’t go telling Eddie that.”

“Please. He’d convulse and die on the spot,” Richie scoffed, swinging a leg over the leather saddle. “So, where’ll it be, sweetcheeks?”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. “I’m kind of in the mood to not think about anything. You wanna head to the arcade?”

Two hours later, pumped up on blue-raspberry Slushies with fingers cramping from the buttons and levers you’d been busy stabbing and yanking, you and Richie sat in a greasy-spoon café, snacking out of a shared basket of cheesy fries as the sky darkened outside the window.

“What d’you think’ll happen now?” Richie asked suddenly.

“What do you mean?” You swallowed your fries, reaching for your Pepsi to wash it down.

“Now IT’s dead. Kaput, bitch. No more missing kids, no more hallucinations, no more freaky fuckin’ clowns.” Richie heaved a sigh. “Cause I don’t think everything will just magically go back to the way it was.”

“No,” you mused in agreement. “No, you’re probably right.”

“‘Cept for us,” Richie beamed suddenly. “We’re inseparable, right?”

You grinned. “You bet, Tozier. For better or for worse.”

You looked at him - skin illuminated by the softly-glowing neon lights from the sign outside, the contours of his face sharply shadowed, hair a black, untameable mess as ever - and the urge to kiss him took you so fiercely, it almost knocked you off your chair. You swallowed your mouthful of fries too quickly in your shock, and one ended up dislodged in your throat. You choked and wheezed, and Richie unhelpfully thumped you on the back until you’d swallowed the damn thing.

“Jesus Christ,” he commented. “Y/n, if you wanted something to choke on, you could’ve just asked.”

A week ago, the comment would be met with an eye-roll; now it only made a flush climb your face, and you took a long swig of your iced Pepsi to ward off the redness.

The first time you actually kissed Richie Tozier was two months later.

It was midnight, but sleep troubled you not. You sat wide-awake, flat on your back and staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, when a sudden tap like long nails on wood made you start violently. Clambering to your feet, you glanced at your window; sure enough, a second later, a pebble hit the glass pane and bounced off again, and you sighed, picking your way over and opening it wide.

“Throwing pebbles, Romeo?” you called down teasingly. Richie glared up at you.

“Can I come up?”

You jerked your head in affirmation. At this point, your parents were so used to you going to bed alone and coming down in the morning with Richie, you didn’t even have to worry.

You slid the ladder out the window until it touched solid ground, then went back to your bed. A minute later, Richie’s face appeared at your open window, and he hauled himself in with all the grace of a sack of wet concrete.

You frowned as the scents of - was that wine? Wine and perfume - wafted in after him. He was also wearing a suit - a suit - but the illusion of whatever formality he’d been going for ended at his hair; looping black curls in total disarray, a soft tide of dark hair held back by a lone red hairclip.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” you eventually managed to choke out.

“My parents are home,” he answered non-communally. “And they decided to host a fucking mixer at our house tonight. So I was forced to wear this bullshit thing -“ he plucked at the suit in disgust “-and I only just managed to get away.”

“Wow.” Your eyes caught the red hairclip glinting amongst the soft web of dark curls. “I haven’t seen that thing in years.”

His hand skittered up to trace the clip absently. “My final act of defiance,” he chuckled weakly, before sinking down to sit on the carpet with heavy shoulders and clasped hands.

“Why are they such assholes, Y/n?” he asked suddenly. “I don’t know if I mortally offended them as in infant, or some shit like that - but even if I did, I still wouldn’t know, because they don’t talk to me. I don’t get it. Why have a kid if - if you’re not gonna-“ He waved his hands around in frustration, as if he could wring some meaning from the sentence if he hit at it enough.

“I don’t know, Richie,” you sighed, sliding off the bed and scooting closer until you sat toe-to-toe with the despairing boy. “I wish - I wish I could help you.”

Finally, he looked up; the tear tracks on his face glistened faintly as he smiled - not a smirk, or a shit-eating grin - a real smile that tore a hole in his chest and let all the dully-glowing fragments of the real Richie spill out for you to see. “You already have,” he answered softly.

Your breath seemed to catch in your throat. “But there’s gotta be more I can do. Damnit, Richie, I love you, so much and it fucking kills me to see you just - just take this shit.”

Richie stared at you, stricken. “You love me?”

You scoffed lightly, your face softening. “You have no idea.”

“But…” Richie was struggling to finish a coherent sentence. “Do you love me like - like the kid the split your granola bars with in second grade or do you love me like a…” Again with the wild hand gestures. “Y’know?”

A laugh bubbled through your lips. “Who says it can’t be both?”

As he opened his mouth to retort, you covered it with yours.

It was chaste and clumsy, but the chaps on his lips felt just right against the smoothness of yours, and the squeak of surprise he made at the embrace was swallowed. You could feel the heat of his cheeks and the flutter of his eyelashes and the firm beat of his heart all in that one, fleeting moment your lips touched.

And even as you pulled back, you felt him still. He was stammering in a way that’d give Bill a run for his money, but you could only smile.

Never in your life did you dream you’d fall in love with Richie Tozier - but right now was one of the rare, blissful seconds reality was better than dreams.

Bruises On Another (part four)

Originally posted by maxmayfield

Prompt: Steve doesn’t know where they come from, and he isn’t exactly sure why they’re there. All he knows is that his body is littered in bruises, and there’s something different about them. They aren’t just bruises, and they certainly didn’t come from a trip in a step or clumsiness. No, Steve knows there’s more behind the marks that litter his body.

THIS IS A SERIES: one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - finale

Pairing: Slow!Burn Steve x Reader, Billy x Reader (it’ll make sense)

Warnings: marks, bruises, pain, physical abuse, force, sexual inclinations, etc. I mean no disrespect to anyone or to upset anyone, this story starts off rough but I can say that things will get better.

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. It doesn’t have to be long, I appreciate every single comment I receive and telling me just helps inspire me to write it more frequently. 

P.S. This a soulmate AU.

I will NO LONGER be adding anyone to the Tag’s List!


Billy fed you drink after drink, shoving them into your face that you forgot how to think straight at some point. You lost yourself after drink five, forgetting who you were and what would happen the moment your father found out about any of this. Instead you drank whatever concoction Billy handed your way and tilted your head back so the drink burned right down your throat.

You’d never gotten drunk before, since you’d never really been allowed out. But the feeling was all that you’d heard it was and you didn’t, at the moment, regret your decisions. After a painfully awkward long car ride, Billy and you had arrived at Tina’s house where all you could see was teenagers everywhere. You’d hesitated stepping out of the car, not knowing what would happen the second you did. But then Billy had appeared on your side of the car, opened the door and led you through the front doors.

You were bombarded by sweaty teenagers dancing, drinking or making out with others. Some people acknowledged Billy’s presence the moment he’d walked in, and you’d been forced to socialize with others during the occasion. But soon enough Billy had brought you to the ‘punch’ table and started pouring you drink after drink, which is where it all began.

You accepted the now refilled cup of ‘pure fuel’ and brought it to your lips almost immediately, downing more than half of it in the first gulp. You were brought back to the real world then by the sound of Billy’s laughter and gazing up at him over the tip of your cup, you fought the blush that threatened to grow. “Didn’t peg you as a drinker, darlin’.”

You shrugged your shoulders; “never drank before.”

You missed the way he’s eyes widened in surprise and before you knew it, Billy was by your side. “Really?” He asked, looking down at you as he slyly slid his arm around your waist. You let him, leaning into the boy slightly to regain your balance. The whole world seemed fuzzy around you and honestly you didn’t even know if you were seeing straight. “Now that’s exciting.”

You mumbled something but over the slur of your words you’re sure Billy didn’t understand. For a moment it was silent as the two of you just stood there and suddenly a loud echoing noise gained your attention and leaning up slightly from the table, you noticed everyones eyes on a pair of people. You squinted slightly, the room spinning before you were able to focus in and found the same pair of brown eyes that haunted your mind. 

There in the middle of the crowd stood Steve and Nancy, who’s white shirt was dyed red from the ‘pure fuel’. Your eyes narrowed at the sight of them together and before you knew it, they were walking off in the direction of the bathroom. You chose to ignore your bitterness and the feeling of Billy laughing loudly beside you as you turned back to your cup and took a large slip. Suddenly drinking felt more like a habit and you felt your shoulders grow heavy with weight.

The sight of Steve with Nancy, for whatever reason that you couldn’t even explain yourself, sobered you up real quick. And with your sober thoughts now coming through, you realized the severity of your actions-

What was wrong with you?

What were you doing here-

with Billy?

Placing your hands against the table, you steadied yourself as your mind became fuzzy. Thoughts burned through your mind rapidly and you found yourself unable to think straight. The distant sound of Billy’s voice echoed in your mind but you couldn’t exactly make out what he was saying. You didn’t understand what you were doing or who you were trying to be.

Since when did you sneak out and get drunk?

The reality of everything was starting to set in and you realized there was no way you were going to get back home and into your bedroom without your father noticing. You felt yourself grow sick knowing what would happen the minute you came home, and knew that if worse came to worse your father would knock you out cold and you’d have a whole new selection of bruises to hide. 

That’s when you felt Billy nestle up beside you and his hands fall dangerously close to your butt. You flinched in surprise from the contact but it seemed Billy didn’t care this time and soon you found yourself flipped from the table and your back smacking against the wall behind you. You blinked, the sight of Billy before you spinning in your minds eye as his hands fell above your hips. You weren’t even sure what was happening before you felt his lips on your neck and his body pressed against yours.

“Billy,” you slurred, but he didn’t hear- or choose to hear.

Your hands flew to his shoulders where you tried to push him off but it made no difference. You were too drunk to even walk on your own, let alone push a boy two times your size off of you. You looked desperately around you for someones help but knew that none of it would matter considering they were all drunk beyond reason and probably thought you wanted this.

What was happening?

The world was spinning again- 

“Billy,” you called, your words coming out in a moan as he bit your neck. Panic filled within you as you felt yourself grow hot. And then before you knew it, Billy was slipping off the leather jacker he’d given you, leaving you bare in your white t-shirt. The fact that your bruises were clear as day didn’t register within in you and all you could think about was getting away from Billy.

It wasn’t until Billy gripped a bruise on your waist did life seem to snap back to you. You let out a loud yelp of pain as he pinched the sensitive skin, and the moment you felt Billy stop in surprise you pushed against his shoulders. He luckily, this time, stepped away and panting you held yourself. You didn’t meet his eyes knowing what you’d find and wanting to avoid them as much as possible. The moment you’d meet his eyes would be the moment you’d submit to him again. Billy scared you, just like your dad, but you didn’t- didn’t want to lose your virginity like this.

“What the hell?!” Billy spat.

Shaking your head, you stared at the ground before you. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, your voice shaking. “I have to- I have to go.” You moved to step past him but Billy stepped before you abruptly. You closed your eyes in fear, tensing your body as you waited for the pain to start. But nothing ever happened, and finally you looked up at Billy; “bitch.” He spat, before stepping out of your way.

You paused for your moment, the pleasure of being drunk leaving you and you felt your heart rapidly beat against your chest. Biting your tongue, you sped through Tina’s house, moving through people narrowly before making your way outside. The cool air hit your bare arms and you were reminded of the vulnerability you found yourself in.

Staring at the street before you and the cars lined up, you sighed. You’d have to walk home-

“Fancy seeing you here.” You turned around at the voice, finding none other then Steve just before you. You paused in surprise, gazing up at him in wonder as he took another step forward. Snapping out of your stupor, you nodded shortly and let your eyes wander around the front yard again.

“Need a lift home?” Steve offered and again you found yourself surprised by him.

“Um- what?”

“A drive.” Steve clarified, warily stepping closer to you. His eyes almost seemed bloodshot and it looked as if he’d been crying or near tears. You felt your heart fall at the thought of him being upset, but shook your head- you barely knew the guy. “Do you need one home?”

You teetered over the options, unsure if you should take it. But considering your other option was walking home, alone, in the middle of the night and risk coming home later or accepting the drive, the option seemed clear. So, taking a deep breath you nodded and felt yourself grow warm when Steve smiled lightly. The smile didn’t meet his eyes and it almost looked forced, but nonetheless he smiled.

“Here.” He said, slipping off his jacket and extending it towards you. You hesitated for a moment, holding your arms close to yourself before accepting his generous offer and extending your own arm towards him. You seemed to have forgotten about the bruises littering your arm for a moment when Steve reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Hey,” he said, his eyes falling with concern. “Who- did Billy do this to you?”

“What?” You questioned, your eyes falling on your arm. Pulling it back from his grip, you hugged your arm to yourself and quickly slipped on his jacket, so Steve could no longer stare at them. “No- no, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Y/N-”

“It’s fine, okay?” You said, a bit harshly. You felt guilty about interrupting him, especially when he’d offered you a drive, but you couldn’t risk him finding out. If your father… you didn’t want to think about that. “I’m fine.”

Steve seemed hesitant but eventually he nodded and stepping forward, you followed him. ”This way.”


Part 5? 

Let me know below!

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

you „stan“ a manipulative, white supremacist, barely talented, unbelievably rich cow with terrible hair and godawful dance moves. there are so many other great artists, that make music with actual value and finesse, maybe consider „stanning“ someone like that for a change instead of some odd persona a record label is spoonfeeding you : )

*clears throat*

Dear anon, before starting throwing shade at us and Taylor herself, I think that you should check your sources and “facts” first, sit down and read this.

If this person is, I quote, “manipulative” and “a white supremacist”, then I would very much like to take a look at your sources and proof so that we can discuss about it although I have a feeling that most of your “proof” comes from teen magazines or from unreliable sources. I don’t know if you have looked up the definition of white supremacy before, but I will give it to you now: “White supremacy is a racist ideology based upon the belief that white people are superior in many ways to people of other races and that therefore white people should be dominant over other races.” Now, I don’t know how you can qualify Taylor as a white supremacist when she has many friends such as Uzo Aduba (with whom she performed at the 1989 World Tour) and Todrick Hall (who is also starring in her Look What You Made Me Do music video). Moving on, you may call her what you want and you may use terms such as “manipulative” or “unbelievably rich”, but here are some facts about her that you might have skipped:

• she might be rich, but she doesn’t keep the money to herself. In 2015, during Christmas, or as we like to call it, Swiftmas, she sent packages full of gifts to fans around the world. One of these fans was missing a certain amount of money for college, and since Taylor was aware of that, she sent her $1,989 including a lot of other gifts (I used this as a source because I couldn’t find the Tumblr post but y’all can help me later when I post this) (x)

• she has donated an endless amount of money to fans with illnesses, to organizations, visited them at hospitals, and even wrote an eponymous song called “Ronan” for a 4-year old that passed away because of cancer (just google the name of the song and “taylor swift hospital” and you’ll see)

• she gave a certain amount of money and dropped at a hotel a fan who had missed her bus after her concert

• she invites fans TO HER HOME and tells us secrets, bakes for us, stalks us on social media, knows more things about us than ourselves, and is genuinely happy to see us, AND SHE GIVES US THE BIGGEST AND BEST HUG OF OUR LIVES AND SHE DOESN’T LET YOU GO UNTIL YOU LET GO and the conversation between you two flows perfectly because it feels like you’re talking to your long-lost sister and you have so much to talk about (and I and other secret sessioners are the source for this and if you have any questions or you’re don’t believe us you are free to ask politely)

• if you take a look closer, all Taylor never even once ever started the drama. Don’t you think that it’s odd that people keep throwing shade at her for no valid reason when they could actually throw shade at Donald Trump because all he can say is “tremendous”?

• she knows so many things about us it’s insane. She likes our posts daily and interacts with us, even with some emojis, because she knows that it could make a person’s day, week, month, year, or maybe even your entire life. At award shows or any other public event, she doesn’t miss on the opportunity and surprises fans. Do you know any other celebrity who loves their fans so much that they travel to the other side of the world for them, help them financially, send them gifts, spends HOURS with them on social media and tries to meet as many of us as possible?

• she recently met a girl at a secret session who had possibly a miscarriage, and not only did Taylor make her laugh and made her feel better, but the next day, she received an e-mail from Taylor’s team with a specialized doctor’s address. When she asked how much she had to pay them, they replied that everything had already been covered (x)

I would have written more about this but unfortunately I’m running out of time, so I will let our TS defense squad to keep giving you reliable information.

I would like to formally announce you that whatever you may have heard about her is absolutely absurd, no matter where you found the information, or whether you think it’s true.

Also, her hair is so beautiful and I will defeat you if you dare to fight me on this, and who cares about her dance moves?????? Because if your definition of a good artist includes having nice hair and good dance moves then I think that we have a very different illustration of what talent is. I really think that you should listen to her album “Red” and then I’d like to see if you can write such lyrics and if you can represent feelings through instrumentals. You probably have no idea that she has been rewarded so many times throughout her career because of her talent, and she is one of the most awarded celebrities nowadays, yet she is only 27.

I would like to finish this before I go in class with a clarification. You see, I chose Taylor not only for her music, but also for who she is. She has been there for me when I most needed her, and she never failed to bring a smile to my lips in my darkest times. You have here an entire fandom that would agree with me and would gladly tell you specific reasons why everything she does is important to us and why she is so special. Because Taylor isn’t only a celebrity. She’s the person we’ve looked up to in the past few years. She’s our Aunt Becky. She’s our life savior, for many. She’s our ray of sunshine. But most importantly, she’s our best friend. And we have a relationship based on trust, love, and respect, and in all honesty, I think that it’s beautiful.

Him & I (Ethan Dolan)

NEW ETHAN DOLAN SERIES! 

Series based on Him and I by G-Eazy and Halsey

Originally posted by punishmedolans

Having a guy for a bestfriend is great! You can be your true self with them without having to worry about them judging you. You can spend the night playing video games and eating junk food and they’d be perfectly happy. You don’t have to spend hours on your appearance because they don’t care what you look like. I still remember the day I met my best friend Ethan Grant Dolan. 

I was sitting in my first grade classroom, coloring my picture and minding my own business. Suddenly the blue crayon I was using was ripped straight from my hand. 

“hey give that back!” I yelled turning to the culprit. 

He was tiny boy with brown hair and brown eyes. 

“but I need this crayon!” the boy yelled stomping his foot. 

“but I was using it.” I yelled back at him. 

“too bad it’s mine now.” He said sticking his tongue out at me. 

I don’t know why I did it, but I was so angry that I punched him in the nose. He dropped the crayon and started crying. I picked up my crayon and went back to my picture. It wasn’t long until our teacher sent us both to the office. I got yelled at by the principle and was told that I needed to go and apologize to the boy. I rolled my eyes walking out of the office. I saw the boy standing with his mom. I walked over standing in front of him.

“I’m sorry for punching you.” I mumbled not really meaning my apology. 

“you didn’t punch me?” The boy said confused.

“no you punched me!” 

I did a double take, there were two of them. 

“who did I punch?” I asked shaking my head. 

“me, Grayson.” the boy said holding a tissue to his bleeding nose. 

“well, Grayson I’m sorry for punching you.” I said rolling my eyes. 

I had to sit in the office until my mom could pick me up. I was sitting in the chair swinging my legs back and forth when the other boy approached me. 

“did you really punch my brother?” He asked smiling at me.

“he took my crayon!” I exclaimed. 

“He’s mean, I’m glad you punched him. Want to be best friends?” the boy asked sitting beside me. 

“sure! I’m Y/N.” I said turning to him. 

“I’m Ethan!” He said. 

And we’ve been best friends ever since. Grayson eventually grew on me too, when he wasn’t stealing my crayons. Ethan and I would always have a special bond though. I’ll be honest, it hasn’t always been easy being his bestfriend. When they started posting videos on vine the whole school made fun of them, and me too. I didn’t care though, I stuck by Ethan and eventually people started to love them and they got super popular. Ethan and Grayson even have a place in LA now which is really cool, cause I can now say I’ve been to LA. Now they were famous, going on tours, even on a TV show. At the end of the day though, Ethan would always be the same kid who applauded me for punching his brother. 

“ETHAN!” I screamed running towards him. 

He dropped his luggage and picked me up in a big hug. It’s been a week since I’d last seen Ethan.

“I missed you so much Y/N!” Ethan said hugging me tighter.

“I missed you too, but I can’t breath with you hugging me so tight.” I choked out.

Ethan laughed letting me go. 

“I mean I know we aren’t bestfriends but not even a hug for me?” Grayson said beside me.

I turned around giving Grayson a big hug as well. I could see some fans snapping pictures but the twins and I had made it clear that I was just a friend. 

“let’s go home, I’m starving!” Ethan said grabbing my hand and walking out of the airport with Grayson and myself.  

“did you watch TRL?” Ethan asked as he played with my fingers in the backseat. 

Grayson sat up front talking to Lisa, their mom.

“of course, you were on it.” I said giving him a smile. 

“you’re great, you know that?” Ethan said slinging an arm around my shoulders. 

“I know, that’s why I’m your bestfriend!” I said smirking at him. 

We pulled up to the Dolan household and I helped Ethan bring his stuff in. I went up to his room to help him unpack his stuff and so we could catch up. He started to unpack and was telling me all about their recent trip to New York where they film TRL. 

“a bunch of fans asked about you today.” Ethan said throwing the clothes out of his suitcase. 

“oh yeah, what did they say?” I asked leaning back on his bed. 

“they just wanted to know if we were dating, and to tell you that they loved you.” He said laughing. 

“they always ask if were dating.” I said putting a hand to my forehead. 

“so how about you, how was your date with what’s his face?” Ethan asked sitting down beside me. 

“his name was Matt, and it was awful, he tried to kiss me and well it made me feel weird.” I said sitting up to look at Ethan. 

“why would it make you feel weird?” Ethan asked. 

“well, it’s a funny story, I’ve never actually kissed anyone.” I said scratching the back of my neck.

“but you told me that..” Ethan started.

“well I lied.” I said looking down embarrassed. 

“why would you lie?” Ethan asked making me look at him. 

“because I’m 17 Ethan and everyone around us is doing it and I feel like a loser, but it’s my first kiss, I don’t want it to be with just anyone, I want it to be with someone special, someone I trust.” I said bringing my knees to my chest.

Ethan was silent for a moment, probably trying not to laugh at how lame I sounded right now. 

“someone like me?” Ethan finally said.

I could feel my face instantly get hot. Ethan was special to me, and I trusted him with everything I had in me. 

“you trust me don’t you?” Ethan asked getting closer to me. 

“but why would you want to do that?” I asked looking at him.

“because I’m your bestfriend, and your first kiss should be special, and I don’t want you to waste it on some jerk who is going to break your heart.” Ethan said shrugging his shoulders like it was no big deal. 

“but won’t things be weird afterwards?” I asked looking at the boy I had know since we were five years old.

“I mean not if we don’t make it weird.” He said laughing a little

“but I don’t know what I’m doing.” I said feeling very nervous. 

“It’s okay, I’ll show you.” Ethan said sitting in front of me. 

I shuffled closer to Ethan still unsure of what was about to happen. Was I really about to kiss him?

“okay, now I’m going to put my hand on your cheek and lean in, you lean it too.” Ethan said putting his hand on my cheek. 

Ethan’s touched me many times before but for some reason now his touch sent shivers down my spine. Ethan slowly leaned in causing me to lean in now too. Our lips were almost touching. I could feel his breath hitting my face making me even more nervous than I already was. 

“I’m going to kiss you now.” Ethan whispered in a low breathy voice. 

I shook my head shyly as the beating of my heart escalated in my ears. Ethan pressed his lips on mine softly. His lips were warm, and surprisingly soft. He pulled away after a brief second. 

“you have to kiss back, you know that’s the whole point of a kiss.” Ethan said laughing.

I could feel the redness spread on my tanned cheeks. 

“It’s okay, just let it happen and you’ll find you already know what to do.” Ethan said smiling at me. 

Ethan leaned in again connecting our lips. This time I kissed him back. He was right, I already knew what to do. I found myself tangling my fingers in the ends of his hair as our lips moved in sync with one another. I could feel butterflies erupt from my stomach every time his lips pressed down harder on mine. I didn’t know what this feeling was, it was something I’ve never felt before. It was like I was floating, like suddenly his kiss was the only thing that kept me grounded. I can’t say that I didn’t like it either. 

“hey Ethan dinner is, woah sorry.” 

Ethan and I quickly pulled away to see Grayson standing in the doorway in shock. I immediately felt the redness spread back to my cheeks. 

“we’ll be right down.” Ethan said shrugging.

“uh, ah um.” Grayson stuttered obviously confused and in shock of what he just walked in on. 

“she’s never had her first kiss, so I was showing her.” He said shrugging his shoulders again. 

I put a hand to my forehead. I don’t know what I was more embarrassed by, the fact that Grayson caught us kissing, or that Ethan just blabbed the secret that I’m 17 and this was my first kiss. 

“maybe I can be your second.” Grayson joked. 

I got up throwing Ethan’s pillow at him. 

“you hungry, pizza is downstairs.” Ethan asked standing up. 

“wait aren’t we going to talk about what just happened?” I asked standing up. 

“Grayson will tease for a little but he wouldn’t actually tell anyone.” Ethan said.

“that isn’t what I’m talking about.” I said shyly. 

“then what, are you okay?” Ethan asked. 

How was I supposed to tell the boy I’d been friends with for 12 years that I liked it when he kissed me? The answer to that question is simple, you don’t. 

“never mind let’s go get food, I’m starving.” I said walking ahead of Ethan and down the stairs. 

I couldn’t make eye contact with Grayson as I sat down beside Cameron. Ethan came down taking the seat beside me. 

“did you finish unpacking yet Ethan?” Lisa asked him as she passed out pizza to each of us.

“nope, but he wasn’t unpacking.” Grayson smirked as he took a sip of his water.

I grabbed one of the pieces of pineapple off my pizza throwing it at him. Grayson just laughed making Lisa and Cameron look at each other with confusion. 

“not yet, but I’ll finish as soon as we’re done eating.” Ethan said taking a bite of his pizza.

I ate in silence feeling the awkward tension in the air. If one of the Dolan’s talked to me I would answer their question and then go back to eating in silence. I could tell that Ethan noticed because he kept glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. Once we were finished eating, I offered to help clean up before following Ethan back to his room. 

“now you finish unpacking now, no distractions!” Grayson yelled down the hall with a laugh.

“ignore him.” Ethan said hopping on his bed, definitely not unpacking. 

I don’t know why I felt so awkward all of the sudden. Ethan and I had never been shy in front of each other, but suddenly I felt like it was the first time I was meeting him. 

“what are you doing? come over here!” Ethan said patting the spot beside him.

I crossed the room sitting on the spot he indicated. 

“okay what’s up with you? You’re never quiet around us? Is it Grayson’s teasing? Should I go talk to him?” Ethan asked turning towards me. 

That was the problem, I didn’t know what was up with me. 

“uh no, I’m just not feeling very well.” I lied shrugging my shoulders.

“well lay down and let’s watch a movie and hopefully you’ll feel better in a little bit.” Ethan said crawling under the covers. 

He had his arms open for me to crawl in to them. I was never hesitant about cuddling with him, but now it felt as if I was crossing a line. What line that was, I had no idea. I knew I needed to snap out of this. I crawled under the covers leaning on him. 

“what do you want to watch?” Ethan asked handing me the remote.

I grabbed the remote and started scrolling through Netflix. Of course all the suggested movies were romantic ones. I picked a random comedy, giving Ethan his remote back. He wrapped his arms around me before focusing on the movie, but my mind was far from focusing on the movie. Halfway through the movie Ethan fell asleep much like he always did when we watched movies. He was a terrible movie buddy. I got out of his arms before sneaking out of his room. It was pretty late anyways so I was just going to head home. Normally I’d just fall asleep in Ethan’s room with him but it didn’t feel right this time. I walked out of his door running right in to Grayson.

“leaving so soon?” He asked with a smirk. 

I shrugged my shoulders not in the mood for his teasing. His demeanor immediately changed when I looked to the floor.

“did I hurt your feelings? I’m sorry if I did Y/N, I was totally just kidding.” He said giving me an apologetic look. 

“no Grayson it’s okay, I just don’t feel to well.” I again lied all too smoothly. 

“did something happen between you and Ethan besides well uh yeah?” Grayson questioned rubbing his neck nervously. 

well yeah, something did happen. I liked it. 

“no, we’re fine. I’ll uh see you guys tomorrow. If Ethan wakes up tell him I went home and I’ll text him tomorrow.” I said giving Grayson a hug before walking out of the Dolan household. 

that night was anything but peaceful. I couldn’t figure out why I was acting differently. So I did what every teenager does when they can’t figure something out. I went to the internet. I found many stories from teenage girls like myself telling a similar story. One caught my eye in particular. 

One day my best guy friend and I accidently drunk kissed at a party. I didn’t think anything of it in the moment but everything changed after we accidently kissed. It was like I was seeing things from someone else’s point of view. I was suddenly very nervous around him. I was hesitant to do the things we would normally do. I started to see him in a different light and he was suddenly everything I had ever wanted. That is how I realized that I was in love with my bestfriend.

In love? With Ethan? Could I be? He was incredibly attractive, there was no denying that. He knew me better than I knew myself. He always had my best interest in mind. But could I really be in love with my bestfriend? I tossed and turned trying to think of something else that could explain what I was feeling. It would ruin our whole friendship. I couldn’t be in love with him. I didn’t realize how long I was contemplating until my phone lit up with a text from Ethan.

Ethan: I hope you’re feeling better! Guess what I have a date today!

A date? I read the words and was immediately filled with sadness. Ethan’s had dates before and I thought nothing of it, he even had a girlfriend for a couple months and I was happy for him. I don’t understand why the simple word filled me with so much dread now. 

: a date? with who? 

Ethan: just a girl I’ve been texting, it’s nothing serious just want to hang out with her.

: oh cool.

Ethan: I was kind of hoping you’d come help me get ready so I can make an impression? You’re better at this stuff than I am. 

The last thing I wanted to do was to help Ethan impress another girl. 

: sure I’ll be over soon.

Ethan: you’re the best love you!

I sighed setting down my phone. I ran a frustrated hand through my hair before heading over to the Dolan household. I walked in to a nearly empty house. 

“where is everybody?” I asked to no one in particular. 

“oh hey!” Ethan said running down the stairs. 

He pulled me in to a big hug. 

“Mom and Dad are away today and Cameron is with her friends. Grayson just went to meet his girl.” Ethan explained grabbing my hand and dragging me up to his room. 

He had clothes all over his bed.

“I can’t find an outfit to wear.” He said looking at me before laughing. 

wow he was putting in a lot of effort in to this. 

“don’t worry, I’ll help you.” I said pushing my feelings aside. 

I grabbed an outfit matching it for him. 

“Here, put this on.” I said handing him some nice jeans and a dress shirt. 

He ran to the bathroom putting on the outfit. He came out and he looked incredibly handsome, just like I knew he would. 

“wow, I look good, thanks Y/N you’re a life saver!” He said giving me a hug. 

“you’re welcome. you know you have to tell me all about this girl now.” I said giving him a look. 

“I will when I get home, I promise, you can chill out here and as soon as I get back we’ll hang out!” He said grabbing a jacket and putting it around his shoulders. 

I gave him a wave and watched him walk out the door. It was quiet in the house. I couldn’t fight this feeling of overwhelming sadness. I walked to the kitchen opening the cabinet. I found a full bottle of liquor calling my name. I grabbed the bottle before slumping on the couch. I unscrewed the top feeling the alcohol slide down my throat. I coughed not used to the taste. I took a couple more long swigs until I started to feel the effects. Suddenly the door slammed open and in walked an angry Grayson. 

“what happened to you?” I asked giving him a look.

“my date stood me up.” He said slouching on the couch beside me. 

“here this will help.” I said handing him the bottle of liquor. 

Grayson took the bottle taking a long drink of it. 

“you’re right this does help.” He said before taking another long drink. 

Grayson and I passed the bottle back and fourth until it was completely empty. 

“you’re date doesn’t know what she’s missing out on.” I said offering Grayson a smile. 

“what about you, why are you so upset?” He asked turning his body towards me. 

I leaned back on the couch looking at the ceiling. 

“I think I’m in love with someone, and he doesn’t feel the same.” I said not taking my gaze off the ceiling. 

“who?” Grayson asked making me look at him. 

At this point it was the alcohol talking. Sober, I would’ve never admitted this to Grayson. You know what they say though, drunk words are sober thoughts. 

“Ethan.” I admitted.

“wait you love Ethan?” Grayson asked springing up off the couch. 

“yeah I love Ethan.” I said out loud. 

As soon as the words left my lips I felt this sense of relief wash over me. 

“you have to tell him!” Grayson exclaimed. 

“What! I can’t tell him! It would ruin our friendship! Besides Ethan does not like me like that Grayson! I can’t tell him and you can’t either!” I snapped.

I sank back in to the couch, Grayson falling beside me. 

“Look, you’ll never know if you don’t try. Besides the way he was kissing you yesterday didn’t look just friendly to me.” He said 

“It didn’t?” I asked looking at Grayson. 

“nope.” Grayson said popping the p. 

“then how did it look?” I asked. 

“like this.” Grayson said grabbing my face and crashing his lips on to mine. 

It was weird, not like when I kissed Ethan but the alcohol fogging my brain told me to kiss him back, so I did. Grayson deepened the kiss, laying be back on the couch. He hovered above me still not breaking the kiss. He slowly put his hands under my shirt pushing it up a little bit. I felt a shiver as his bare hand gripped my hip roughly. I slid my hands under his shirt feeling his toned abs and chest. Grayson pulled away before yanking his shirt off. He attached his lips to my neck, kissing up to my jawline and then putting his lips back on mine. 

“hey Y/N I’m..” 

ETHAN’S POINT OF VIEW

I pulled up to Jessica’s house ready for our date. I had been texting her for a little bit and was excited to hang out with her. She seemed like a pretty nice girl and I wanted to get to know her more. She came out wearing a nice dress and giving me a big smile. 

“are you ready to go?” I asked offering her my hand. 

“sure, let’s go.” She said offering me another smile.

She was silent as I drove to the restaurant I was taking her too. I glanced at her but it wasn’t her sitting there suddenly, it was Y/N. I shook my head quickly taking my eyes off the road.

“Ethan are you okay?” She asked putting a hand on my arm. 

“yeah uh, I’m fine.” I said shrugging my shoulders. 

okay that was odd? Why did I just imagine my bestfriend? I pulled in to the restaurant offering my arm to Jessica. We walked in the restaurant, taking a seat and making small talk. I was being my goofy self and trying to make her laugh. I said something funny making her burst out laughing. Instead of her laugh I heard Y/N’s laugh. I quickly put my hands over my ears. I saw Jessica look a little hurt as she stopped laughing. 

“Ethan what’s wrong?” Jessica asked.

I was going crazy. 

“I uh am not feeling to well, I’m sorry Jessica I have to leave.” I said getting up quickly from the table.

“wait who’s going to take me home?” She called after me. 

I ran jumping in my car. I could feel my heart beating quickly. What was wrong with me? Why am I imagining Y/N? Did that mean I wanted to take her on a date? I thought of yesterday, my lips on hers. Her lips were softer then I’d imagine they’d be. I ran a frustrated hand through my hair before starting up the car and driving home. What was I going to tell her? She’d ask how the date went, I couldn’t tell her that I imagined her and freaked out and left. I pulled up to the house seeing as she was still here. 

“hey Y/N I’m..” I started but immediately stopped at the sight in front of me. 

Grayson was on top of her, shirtless, and kissing her lips. She quickly threw Grayson off of her. 

“Ethan.” She gasped.

ending part one here because I’m a evil child, share this post if you want a part two! love you guys so much!

part two

The One (Part I)

Part I –> Part 2

Genre: Hybrid!Taehyung, Fluff, Angst, smut in the future

Paring: TaehyungXreader

Word-count: 2,9K

Warnings: Abuse, unjust, anxiety, forcing, animalistic feelings

Summary: You’ve never liked the idea of hybrids, since it’s straight up abuse from a owner to a hybrid, they aren’t treated like humans. But what happens when your boss gave you a hybrid as a gift?

A/N: HAHA, I might look a bit like a copy cat since others have been writing about hybrid!au related stories, but I’ve actually liked the idea of the genre a lot, so sorry not sorry <3

Masterlist

‘I get what?’

You stare wide-eyed at the man in front of you, somewhat irritation running through your system. You’re genuinely confused to this request of your boss. It’s not something you’d normally get for the christmas days at work. Regularly, it’s just a box full of food and extra nobody-needs-that things. You’ve never wanted a christmas box anyways, you never use all the tools and mostly you even give it to the homeless.

‘Come on ___, everyone these days wants one.’ He chuckle, nudging your side as he smirked down at you. You hate that smirk of his, he always want to tease without a good reason. It’s as if he always needed to hamper you, though you let him notice you’re not into his bullshit that day. But at the end, he’s still your boss. You can’t do anything about his tremendous deportment.

‘I don’t need a hybrid in my house, so no thanks.’ You sigh, deciding on turning around, but your boss only called for you to hold there. ‘You don’t have a choice, have a nice christmas ___!’

You scoff, now not hesitant on rushing out of that room. Sometimes you don’t even know why you became a part of this pesky enterprise. It pays well, yeah, but this has a thousand too much problems within. Their problems are mostly on the social-part. It’s the way they treat employees, particularly women, who they like to impede. With ‘they’ , is meant the fewer higher-standing employers. But whatever you might disagree about, it still pays well, over average. And in your position, you could use some money to keep up your own living.

Suddenly your phone began to vibrate in your pocket. When you see the message of a shipping oganisation, knowing it wasn’t your doing, you began to internally scream. You can’t believe this fucktard of a boss litterally sends you this so-called hybrid to your house, no announcing or anything. You’ve never wanted a hybrid to even begin with.

It’s not that you hate hybrids individually, it’s just the matter on ’why’ they were made. You know that these hybrids are also human beings, converted to this inhuman rase. Not only do they break nature’s law, they also treat hybrids like complete garbage. Most people want them to help with their own lacking desire of affection. It’s sad, truly, but the most sad of them all is that the hybrids have no idea. They think it’s just the way life goes. Getting raped every single day? No problem, if that’s what you have to do to please your owner. It’s sickening, knowing this sort of extraordinarily abuse exists. Unbelievable.

You race over the highway in your car, making fast work on getting yourself home. You want to send the hybrid back as fast as possible, you don’t want to support this kind of mutated human, not when there is too much wrong about it. It’s a form of rebelling, indirectly showing your opinion on this. You want them to feel free, to feel loved like other humans. It’s almost as if they have less right than a cat or a dog, though they are human like the rest. If they only would realize that it wasn’t the right way to live your life, they would revolt and you would be a 100% supporter of that

You arrive at your house, immediately noticing a man standing in front of your house, hands folded over one another. He wears a kind smile, like he just delivered a small package, but in reality he just delivered you a whole human being. You can see the well-known uniform of the hybrid-company, called Hy-Tech, disgusting.

’The hybrid is in the back of the truck, should I get hi-.’

‘No, I don’t want ‘him’. It was a present of my workplace, but really I don’t need one. Still thanks though.’ You’d cut him off, walking straight past the shocked-looking guy. You struggle on getting your keys out, wanting to avoid the awkward silence between the unknown person and you.

‘Sorry miss, but we can’t take him back, at least not the same day.’ You can hear his wavering tone, somewhat scared for your reaction. From what he has noticed, you’re rather a spicy girl. And he is right, because you almost want to smack your keys to his head when those words left his mouth. Still, you try to keep yourself calm and steady, turning around with all the continence you have left in your bones.

When can I return him?’

‘Two weeks is the minimum. Mostly it’s used to see if the owner likes the hybrid, if not, it will be exchanged for a better one-.’ He almost drifts off ‘But, you can also just wait and then return him.’

You let out a deep sigh, lifting up you hand to massage your head for a small second to think. It’s not like there’s a lot to think about, you don’t have any choice. Two weeks isn’t long, so it’s somewhat doable. It’s just, you’re furious about the cause, your boss. Couldn’t he at least tell you? Ask you?

‘Okay… I guess I don’t have a choice.’ You sigh, nodded for the guy to get the hybrid, the poor thing. The guy smiles genuinely, probably just happy he didn’t had to disappoint his boss with an unhappy customer. He walks up to the back of his truck, opening it and smiling at the hybrid inside. He nudges his to get out, encouraging. You let out another sigh, again feeling a drill of irritation flowing through your body. Now you think about it, your boss must think that you’re some lonely loser who needs a fucking hybrid to fulfill your needs or something. What kind of creepy thoughts does this guy even have about you?

Then the hybrid finally steps out of the truck, looking around to take in his surroundings. You cock your head to the side as the hybrid and the man approaches you. He is… beautiful. It’s no doubt, his eyes, hair, body, lips, nose, you could go on and on. But then again, they must be made to be beautiful. thereby, they are here to please you, also your eyes.

‘Hi…’ He says shyly, looking away from you. You have to admit, he is really cute and you nod your head in return at him to greet him. You analyze his hybrid features, vastly noticing it’s some kind of cat, probably a lion or something, since his ears are yellow and so is his tail. His tail also has a little fluffy hair bundle at the tip. He wears a big sweater with black tight jeans, casually clothed, making him more adorable for his owner. Pathetic.

’So, there isn’t much you need to know about hybrids since you will be returning him again.’ The ears of the hybrid sprang up as he wears a really sad expression by hearing the words of the man, your heart sinking immediately. He must be very sad that you don’t want him, as if he is just a object, as if he’s lacking. How could this bastard say that in front of the hybrid himself? Like he isn’t part of the conversation. Fucking hell, this gets you so damn mad. You clench your jaw as you kept your eyes on the guy, having a stern glare.

‘He needs to eat and drink like any other human. He also needs some medicine for his heat, which he gets next week. Unless you’s want him to-.’

No.’ You cut him off again, not at all feeling the need to want any sexual things from this hybrid. You can take care of your sexual frustrations yourself, which is clubbing.

‘Well, then you need these pills.’ He gave you a small bag, white pills piled on one another. ‘He needs it once a day.’ You nod  as you put the bag in your jacket pocket. ‘That was it I guess, you can call me any time you need me.’ ‘There will be no need.’ You answer, now turning around and signaling for the hybrid to go with you, sighing a soft ‘for fucks sake’ under your breath.

Once the both of you were inside, warmth embracing your bodies, you pull off your jacket and shoes and the hybrid did the same as he just copied your doings. Then a question suddenly shot through your head.

‘Fuck, what’s your name?’

His eyes shot up at you with confusion written all over his face. He shrugs, literally not knowing his name. ‘I don’t have a name yet, you need to give me one.’ He says. Anger again began to boil within you. How can’t he even have his own name? Everyone has a name, it’s not possible for him not to know his own name at this point.

‘Didn’t they give you a name, ever?’ You say, now slightly interested in his background story. You’d like to know how his past life went, if he got treated well. You can’t imagine him, this sweet angel with a boxy smile, being abused, tossed around like a no one.

’They called me kitty, you can call me that too if you want.’ He says, giving you a small smile before focussing his gaze on the ground again. Then you noticed, as he looks at the ground, he is just having a straight face. As if he isn’t allowed to look at you? You run your hand through your hand, calming yourself.

No.’

He frowns, now giving you little glances up at you, but quickly looked back down at the floor. He is confused, why are you reacting like this? His past owners always were overjoyed and immediately wanted to use him for many different things. But he could sense you didn’t want any of it, you were different. You also gave him some kind of dominant vibes, so maybe you were just immense strict towards him, maybe wanting him on his knees to beg you? What do you want?

‘Look up at me, never look down ever again.’

He obeys, looking up at your eyes, still confused. You take his hand, carefully taking him to the couch and sitting him down. You’re mad, but still, you can’t blame him. You need to be careful with him, show him what real love is so he might want to escape and never return from this world. Maybe you can change his few on this world.

’Do you have a particular name you like a lot?’

Taehyung… I like that name… a lot.’ He almost looks scared to speak his own mind. He hesitates in his sentences a lot. He can’t even have his own opinion, fucking bullshit. It’s all bullshit, if you’d ask. How much you’d like to go back in time to where the hybrids got invented and just ruin it all, destroying all their new-found inventions.

‘Okay Taehyung, I’m ___, we’re going to make a few things straight in this house.’

He nods, a bit confused to why you would name him his preferred name, are you just being nice so he would have to pay it back later in bed? Is this some test? To show you that he is a great pet? Because you already wanted to throw him out the moment he walked up to you and you hadn’t even looked at him yet. But the way you’re treating him made him confused. you disliked him so much in the first place, what got your mind to change like that?

‘First, you can go out whenever you want, I don’t mind, just don’t go too far because you will lose track on your path. Secondly, you may eat whatever you’d like, just look in the kitchen if you want anything and you can grab it, just don’t eat my whole fridge away. Thirdly, you can be casually with me. Fourthly, I don’t want anything from you, with that I mean your body. You can be free here.’

Your four simple ways around your house got his head dizzy. He never has been treated this way and he couldn’t really find a reason to why you would be different. Of course, he isn’t complaining, he just can’t stop thinking that’s it’s a trick and you will be throwing him out any minute now. It’s his biggest fear as a hybrid, being left alone and back in his own cell again, waiting for the next owner. To him, a home is way better than the cells the hybrids have to live in while they are in the between-owners period. It gets him chills, thinking back to those cells.

‘O-Okay…’

You smile at him, hand reaching up to pet his ears, which hadn’t stopped twitching with confusion, but now eased down as you kept petting him. The feeling isn’t foreign to him, but it still has been a long time since he has been petted, and to your information, he loves it. So it wasn’t a surprise that he purr immediately formed, head leaning into your hand, eyes still wide open as he didn’t yet dare to relax with you. What is he makes the wrong move? Will you punish him?

‘Relax, I won’t hurt you.’ You try to assure him and he eventually does, closing his eyes and head laying down on your lap, loud purr heard. This place suddenly felt like heaven to him, as if he has finally find his destination, a good owner. He can’t stop admiring you all of a sudden, loving your smell, the way your hands slide over his ears as you turn on the television. You don’t mind him having on your lap, it’s adorable and you see how much he needs this. He obviously never really had the chance to relax, so you wouldn’t mind showing him how life also could be. Thereby, you’re extremely tired and you just want to relax, you will deal with your new accompany the next day.

He turns around to face you on your lap, arms making their way around your waist as he couldn’t help himself anymore, affection drilling through his body by your touch. It’s so overwhelming, feeling so satisfied after many years of being a ‘slave’. He just wants to keep being in your arms, resting his head on your lap.

‘Aren’t you cold?’ You say as you feel a slight breeze in your apartment, thinking that he might be cold from it. You know that cats like warmth, since you had a cat when you were younger and still lived at home, so maybe lions do too. He shakes his head no, but you didn’t take his response as an answer, still standing up and getting a thick blanket for the both of you to lay under. When you came back and laid the blanket over his body, you notice his big boxy smile, purr as loud as always. You sit down next from him as you took the blanket over your body too, nudging him to come closer to you and so he does. He lays his body close against you, arms again around your waist as he watches along with the series you had zapped to.

‘___, are you testing me?’ He suddenly asks and you just shake your head, hand coming up to pet his hair slightly, reassuring that everything is okay and that he can relax for the upcoming 2 weeks, because you’re still not planning on keeping him. But maybe, just maybe, you will let him stay? He thought. If he’s just really good to you, you might reconsider your choice?

‘Just relax tonight, Taehyung. Nothing will happen, I won’t ever play with you like that, I’m not like that.’ You sigh, hand returning to your own lap. He feels relieved. You’re so different from most people and he just can’t wait for you to open up more to him, showing your real nature to him. Because, as he feels your skin on his, he feels something strange. Something he never felt before and he didn’t know it was just affection or something stronger than that, talking about his mate. Mating is still something very big in this system of hybrids, since it’s a big turn on for the humans, wanting to be mated with a hybrid. It’s fucked up, yeah, but humans like it, getting owned by something with a big animalistic drive. Like with heaths, humans enjoy those the most out of everything.

Never leave me.’ He mutters, genuinely meaning the words and making your heart break. You can’t, you don’t want to. You’ve always been against it. Always. You can’t just take a turn on your opinion because of him… But still, he seems to have this effect on you when he lays close to you, it somewhat gets you dizzy. Maybe it’s just the effect a hybrid has on its owners. Whatever it is, it makes you want to be closer to him, cuddle up to him and hold him. You try to fight back as much as possible and that eventually works. You’re not that weak, you know how to stop. But others don’t. What if he goes back, to that centre and then eventually to another horrible owner? You can’t let him go back there, not knowing that he will go somewhere terrible. 

It has only been the first hour and you feel as if you’ve fallen into a deep ravine. Boy oh boy, this is going to be a whole new adventure.

A/N: I hope y'all liked it!

Masterlist

Lowest of Lows | Steve Harrington

Summary; Steve Harrington is a sweetheart (as per usual) after the events in Season 2. Minor spoilers.

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

A/N; Yes, another Henderson!Reader Steve fic…I love the idea what can I say 🤷‍♀️… I’ll mix it up soon but for this idea it had to be done.

The fact that your cat, Mews died, didn’t really set in until a week following the events in the Upsidedown. You were still on edge, constantly in fear that things weren’t actually over. That Will wasn’t actually okay, and that he, or any of you really, could be taken at any second.

In your head there were much more important things to worry about.

When your mom got the cat a few years back you were sceptical to say the least. She got him as a coping mechanism for your dad leaving, at least that’s what you thought.

You weren’t big on animals, cats especially. You contemplated pretending that you were allergic, but your mom needed it.

Eventually the little fur ball wormed his way into your heart. You did have one, afterall, and he was freaking adorable. Your only complaint was the ample amounts of orange fur that you would always find all over your black clothes.

The loss of your feline friend didn’t even really take its toll on you, until all of a sudden on Friday night you were struggling to breathe from sobbing so hard.

Your nose was raw from rubbing it, and your eyes were practically swollen shut. To conclude; you were an utter mess.

Luckily for you, you were home alone. Dustin was sleeping over at Mike’s with the boys, and your mother was off doing who knows what. The fact that you didn’t have Mews to cuddle up to when you got lonely really took its tole.

Steve knew you were home alone, and from experience he knew how lonely it got. He wanted to provide company for you, even if it was just in the form of a phone call.

You, however, were too busy sobbing to pick up the phone. And that worried Steve. His mind couldn’t help but go back to the previous weeks and the danger that everyone was in. You especially.

So he did what any concerned friend would do, at least that’s what Steve told his self, and drove over to your house.

By the time he got there it was past 10 and pitch black out side. You were probably just asleep. He tried to reassure himself. Yet he hopped out of his BMW anyways and knocked on your door.

When you didn’t respond after a few seconds Steve decided to knock again, putting his ear against the door to listen in. He could hear your sobs and hiccups. Relief filled the man. At least he knew you were alive now, granted you were crying which still wasn’t the ideal circumstance.

“Y/N/N? Is everything okay in there?” He questioned from the other side of the door, his hand gripping the brass doornob tightly.

“Steve?” You questioned softly, not believing your ears. You were probably dehydrated from all of the crying. There was no way in hell Steve would drive all the way to your house just ‘cause you didn’t pick up the phone.

“Yeah, it’s me. Could you let me in?”

“Just go home, Steve. I’m okay. I’ll be okay.” You responded, pulling the fluffy blanket tighter under your chin.

“Now that doesn’t sound like a very good idea at all. I can’t leave when my best girl is down.” Steve grinned.

Even though you couldn’t see Steve’s face, you could imagine his expression. His eyes were probably soft as he watched the door for movement, a sympathetic smile painted on his lips.

“If you don’t answer the door I’ll find another way in. I’m a ninja, remember? I could do it.” He warned, taking a few steps back from the door.

“Have it your way.” He mumbled softly to himself, ready to kick the door down if necessary.

You stood up slowly, a small smile finding its way onto your lips at the theatric boy’s antics. Leave it to Steve Harrington to cheer you up in less then 200 words. Even in your lowest state.

You wiped your raw nose with a discarded tissue and threw it into the trash can, dragging the blanket behind you like a cape. Hesitantly you placed your hand on the door nob, unlocking the door slowly.

You pulled the door wide open to reveal Steve Harrington, looking a bit disheveled but of course still handsome. Even after his face was bashed in by Billy Hargrove he managed to look handsome.

“Were you about to try and kick down the door?” You questioned in disbelief, staring at the sheepish boy with wide eyes.

“I-I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He replied with a light blush. “And obviously you aren’t. What the hell happened to you?”

You scoffed. “Way to kick a girl when she’s down.” You walked back into the livingroom, plopping yourself back down onto the brown loveseat.

Steve followed closely behind, taking the seat by your side. “You know that’s not what I meant. You could have two black eyes and be missing your front teeth and I’d still find you fucking gorgeous.” Steve reassured, linking your hand with his.

“You’re gonna think it’s stupid.” You pouted, disconnecting your hands.

“Nothing that has you this worked up is stupid.” He reassured, placing a gentle hand on your cheek.

“Mews is dead.” Your eyes watered just thinking about it so you closed them, hoping to stop anymore tears from falling.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Steve whispered, pulling you into his chest.

You gripped his blue shirt tightly between your fists, trying to hold your sobs in. “I miss him so much.” You cried shakily.

“I know you do.” Steve ran his fingers through your messy hair. “It’ll get better. I promise.”


The next morning you were even more exhausted. Steve had left a few hours after your miniature breakdown. Your eyes were practically swollen shut, and your voice was almost gone.

When you left your bedroom you were greeted by the smell of pancakes, which admittedly made your stomach turn a bit. Your mother was an awful chef.

“Woah, you look like shit.” Dustin yelled, scaring you slightly. You hadn’t even known he was home yet. How late was it?

“Gee thanks.” You smiled sarcastically, flipping the boy off and walking in the other direction.

“I’m just being honest.” He shrugged as if he didn’t do anything wrong.

“Screw you, asshat.” You yelled back in response, slamming the bathroom door shut. You could use a hot shower for sure.

You were snapped out of your hot-water induced haze by your mom screaming your name. “Y/N/N! You have a visitor!”

“I’ll be right out mom!”

When you imerged from your bedroom, fully dressed in the most comfy pajamas you owned, you were met with your mother and brother crowded around Steve Harrington on the couch.

“I thought you said I had a visitor.” You questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t be jealous sweet cheeks, Dustin and your mom were just keeping me company while I waited.

You grinned at the brunette boy, ignoring your brothers groan in disgust. “Gross.”

“Oh, this one is a keeper, Y/N/N.” Your mom declared dreamily. You know that she knew you weren’t dating.

“I keep trying the tell her that.” Steve winked at your mom.

“For Christs sake, I’m sitting right here!” Dusting gagged, “Screw this.” He sighed, hoping up from his spot on the couch and running off to his bedroom.

You rolled your eyes at the boys antics. Your mother followed behind him except she went off back into the kitchen. Something about meatloaf (which you hated).

“Why don’t you come take a seat.” Steve grinned, patting the seat next to him softly.

You didn’t trust it at all. “What the hell is going on?”

You noticed that Steve was blocking something from your view as you sat down. He looked up at you with soft eyes and an even softer smile. One thing was for sure. He looked proud as hell of himself (though what was new).

“Close your eyes.”

You hesitantly agreed, tensing when you felt something light being placed into your lap.

“Okay, open them.”

Your gaze was met with that of the cutest kitten you had ever seen in your entire life. He was small enough to hold in one hand and had a soft black coat.

Yours began to water as you looked up at Steve. He had a pink blush on his cheeks and was watching you wide wide eyes.

“You-you did this for me?” You questioned shakily, a tear falling from your eye onto your cheek.

Steve nodded, reaching over to pet the kitten on his little head. “His name is Dart.” Steve winked.

“Dark.” You laughed, petting the tiny animal’s cheek.

“Do you-do you like him?” Steve asked you in a small voice.

“I love him Steve. Seriously. This is the sweetest thing anybody has ever done for me. Thank you.” You smiled, leaning over to embrace the man. He held you tight against his chest, neither of you wanting to let go.

You placed a soft peck of thanks on his cheek once you pulled away. You smiled at how warm the skin was from all of his blushing.

“I think you missed.” Was all Steve said as he leaned in again, this time tilting his head so he could properly lay his lips over yours.

Not This Time Pt. 2

Summary: After a blowout fight, Billy has to find a way to make things right with his girl.

Authors Note: This is long. Very long… Like… five pages long. I was listening to The Last Time by Taylor Swift when I wrote this… Now that I’m reading it back, I don’t really see how much the song actually influenced the way I wrote it, but it’s a good song period. So listen to it. Even if you don’t like Taylor Swift, you’ll like this song. 

I have decided that I’m going to take requests! I really have a hard time writing them, though! Maybe I’ll reblog some prompts and you can send them in. 

Thanks for the love on the first part of this! I love you guys! All feedback is appreciated (even if you hated it)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

(Part 1 HERE)

    “Hey, are you guys okay!?” I gasped, sprinting to the front door and embracing the kids as they filed in. 

Dustin, Lucas, and Max instantly wrapped their arms around my torso, nearly bowling me over.
 

     “Are you okay?” They questioned, their eyes flitting up to meet mine.

     “Fine, why?” 

     “We saw Billy walking home… He was a wreck.” Lucas explained. 

I let out a sigh, a twinge of pain striking me in the heart. Of course, he looked a mess. Not only had I gone off on him, he was presumably going home to a drunk father who would beat the shit out of him if he didn’t bring his little sister home.
    

 “Yeah. That was nothing.” I fibbed, glancing up to meet Steve standing in the doorway, his face looking worse than it had when the kids kidnapped him and threw him in Billy’s car.  
  

  “Jesus!” I exclaimed. He had a split above his eyebrow and another on his lower lip as well as a blackened eye that was turning an eerie green color. I couldn’t help but smirk at the multicolored bandaids the kids had slapped on his scrapes, though.
   

 “Yeah. This is nothing.” He mocked my tone from earlier, seeing right through my lie.

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