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sweetestspence · 1 year

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" and then there were two "

summary: the bau recruits a new agent whose credentials arguably match their very own boy wonder’s pairing: s1!spencer reid x f!reader genre: fluff wc : 2.5k

part of the holy ground series.

“Did you hear? About the new agent?” Elle enters the bullpen with Derek, slinging an arm around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him closer. She keeps her voice just loud enough for him to hear, but it catches the attention of the agents that walk past them. Whispers of a new BAU team member had been lingering around the office for the past few days, especially one of this particular agent’s caliber.

“You heard too- What do you have over there Reid?” Derek’s train of thought had been cut of thought had been cut off the second the pair reached Spencer’s desk, the young man’s attention transfixed on a smooth stone between his fingers.

Spencer looks up, but keeps the pebble in his palm. “I picked it up from the beach a couple of days ago, I thought it looked nice so-”

“That pebble has been within a few feet of a dead body and you still picked it up?” Elle teases, cutting him off and taking the stone for him palm, bringing it up to her eye-level to ‘examine’. “It’s a strange shape though, I’ll give you that.”

Elle returns the rock back to Spencer which he places atop his desk. “You two were talking about the new agent… What- what do you think they’re like?”

Derek shrugs his shoulders. “I didn’t hear anything from Hotch or JJ, other than she’s coming in today.”

“Thank god another woman around, I was worried that we’d always be outnumbered by you four.” Elle breathes an exaggerated sigh of relief before continuing, “All I heard was the agent graduated early and worked in law for a bit.”

“You two definitely heard a lot more than I did.” Spencer’s brows furrow, his mind filled with questions of the new addition to their team. He didn’t even know they were looking for recruits, his eyes scan around the bullpen, drifting from Elle and Derek as he searched for an unfamiliar face.

And he finds one. Standing by the doorway. You looked nervous. You’re biting the inside of cheek, your eyes scanning around the bullpen in search of a familiar figure. Possibly Hotch. You keep to yourself, as if you’re afraid of taking too much space. But it feels like a front, you’re just in an unfamiliar environment. It isn’t until Derek snaps his fingers in front of his face that he drops his train of thought. If you were the newest addition to the team, he probably shouldn’t be profiling you.

“Did pretty boy find himself a pretty girl?” Derek laughs, following Spencer’s gaze.

“She just looks new that’s all.” Spencer quickly averts his eyes to the rock on his desk, but it’s too late. Elle had caught on and managed to see you waiting by the door as well.

She crosses her arms and quickly looks at you before looking back at Spencer. “Looks like you found our new agent.”

You take a couple of deep breaths before fully committing to entering the bullpen. Three people had just looked at you before returning to their conversation. You know you should probably find your unit chief first, and he’d be the one to make introductions for you. But it wouldn’t hurt to introduce yourself… right? You couldn’t ponder on the question for too long as your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, moving in the direction of Spencer’s desk where he, Derek, and Elle are.

“Hi!” You smiled, reaching a hand out for them to shake. “I’m Y/n, I’m supposed to be starting in the BAU today.”

Spencer raises a brow. You didn’t introduce yourself as an agent, only your first name. He shares a look with Elle who only shakes her head at him, as if telling him not to read into it too much.

Derek shakes your hand. “Derek Morgan.”

“Elle Greenaway. Really nice to meet you, Y/n. I apologize we were not being subtle at all.” Elle laughs.

“Don’t worry-” You wave off her apology with a small smile, but before you could continue speaking, Derek cuts you off.

“Used to being stared at from across a room? You don’t seem like the type who buys her own drinks at the bar.” He smirks, exaggeratedly checking you out to prove his point.

Elle rolls her eyes and gently shoves his side. “Cool it, Morgan. She’s new.”

“It’s fine.” You nod your head towards the person directly in front of you, turning your attention turns towards the only one who hasn’t introduced himself.

Instead of offering his hand to shake, Spencer simply offers you a sheepish smile. “Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Doctor. Cool.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise and Spencer searches for any sign of derision or contempt in your tone and expression. He’s used to getting such anytime he’s introduced himself to anyone older, even more so around people his age; which you seemed to be.

But you seemed to be genuinely impressed. Instead of asking a follow up question on how someone as young as him could possibly have the title of doctor attached to his name, you nod towards the small rock on his desk.

“Most people decorate their desks with pictures, or maybe even little figurines. May I?”

Spencer gestures that you go ahead and you take the rock from his desk, examining it in a similar way that Elle had a few minutes prior.

“Anyone who would willingly want to work at the BAU isn’t going to be like most people.” Derek quips. “If it’s colorful things you’re after I’m more than willing to take you on a little field trip to our technical analyst’s office.”

“I think it’s neat though.” You move to return the pebble back, but Spencer holds a hand up, effectively stopping you in your tracks.

“You can have it if you want. You can, um,” he pauses before pushing your hand back towards you, his skin not actually touching yours, “consider it a welcome gift. Besides I think I picked up a couple more.”

“You know, male penguins offer rocks as a gift to woo female penguins… So if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.” You attempt to sound nonchalant, but there’s a hint of a teasing tone that laced your words. “On my very first day too.”

Spencer’s lips part, at a loss for words. He scratches the back of his head, trying to look at everything but you. “I, um- no, I wasn’t- I just thought-”

You chuckle at his cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink, but decide to quell his embarrassment. “Relax, Dr. Reid. I was kidding.”

“So male penguins don’t do that?” Elle asks, turning to you.

“Well they do, actually.” Spencer answers the question for you, chiming in without a second thought. “The female penguins often use the rocks to build a kind of nest.”

Derek’s gaze quickly travels between you and Spencer. “How do either of you even know about that?”

“I read about it.” Spencer shrugs.

“Yeah, that checks out.” Derek mumbles, but his words are clear enough that it makes Elle chuckle and shake her head. He turns to you, “And Y/n?”

“I couldn’t sleep one night and a nature documentary was the only thing remotely interesting on.”

Elle leans closer towards Derek and turns away from you and Spencer, speaking in a low enough voice that only he could hear. “Oh god, looks like we have two of them now.”

Before you could even ask about it, Hotchner has already managed to walk towards your little group. “Briefing room. You can continue your introductions there. JJ’s got a case for us.”

All four of you know better than to do anything that isn’t following Hotch to the briefing room. JJ had already set up an extra chair for you, and you wait for everyone to take their seats before you take the available space between Morgan and Elle.

“Agent L/n.” Hotch bring’s everyone’s attention towards you as soon as he’s noticed you settle in your seat. “I believe you’ve met agents Morgan, Greenaway and doctor Reid. This is SSA Jason Gideon. JJ, our liaison. And Penelope Garcia, our technical analyst.”

“I’m excited to work with everyone. Thank you for having me.” You greet, sitting-up a little straighter, a tight-lipped smile spreading across your face.

“Oh don’t be so nervous, sweetheart. Your work’s impressive-”

“Garcia, you already looked her up?” Derek asks, but there isn’t a single ounce of shock in his voice or expression.

“Honey, whispers of a new agent? Of course, I looked her up.” Penelope responds, twirling her sparkly pen around. “Not only did cutie over here graduate early every single time, she did a double degree for her undergrad. Also got a near perfect score on the LSAT, passed the bar in the top ten, and currently trying to get a doctorate in sociology.”

You blink back at her, you weren’t even planning to go into detail about your background to the team. Before you could even ask her how she was able to find out, Gideon speaks up from across the table.

“A lawyer? Prosecutor?”

You nod. “Didn’t even last a full year. I always felt like I could be doing more, you know? Applied to join the FBI, worked in the field for a bit, and now here I am.”

Nobody misses the flash of recognition in Hotch’s eyes. After all, it’s a familiar story. But no one presses further.

“Garcia, when you said near-perfect score…” JJ trails off, her eyes trained on Penelope.

“Very near.” Penelope turns to you with a smile, seemingly proud despite just having met you. “179.”

“It’s not really something I go around telling people.” You avoid eye contact with the rest of the team and look down at your lap, fiddling with your thumbs from underneath the table. Despite this, you could still feel everyone’s gaze on you.

“You should. Hell, I would.” Derek jokes before looking between you and Spencer. “Trying to get a doctorate too. We’ve got a matching set of boy wonder and girl wonder over here.”

“We’ll be introducing you as Dr. L/n pretty soon, huh?” Elle leans closer towards you, gently hitting your shoulder and causing you to look up at her.

You smile sheepishly at the rest of the team. “I wouldn’t know about soon. I’ve actually been struggling to finish my dissertation.”

Spencer’s lips part. He feels the need to say something, perhaps some words of encouragement. Maybe he could even offer to help you with your work. Especially considering he had also gone through the process of getting a doctorate. Thrice, in fact. But before he could get a single word out, Hotch’s voice is already filling the briefing room.

“I’m sure we’ll get to know more about agent L/n in the coming days. For now, we have a case to get to.”

___

“This one is yours.” JJ leads you to your desk in the bullpen. Despite it being apparently unoccupied, there's a few piles of folders and loose pieces of paper strewn around. “If you need anything, just let me or Hotch- or the rest of the team really- know. I’ll let you settle in, but remember wheels up in thirty.”

“Got it. Thanks JJ.”

“No problem.”

You take out a couple of things you know you’d want on your desk from your bag; a couple of cute pen holders, some post-its, a couple of pictures. You feel around your bag and take out a book you were reading. You were wondering why you felt like your bag was unusually heavy. Then again, you were zooming around your apartment earlier in the day as you had slept through your alarm. As a result, you pretty much grabbed the first bag you saw and haphazardly stuffed your things inside.

“Neil Gaiman?”

You hear someone ask from beside you.

“Huh?”

Spencer is standing by your desk, eyes trained on the book in your hand. He tilts his head over across the small aisle that separated yours and his desks and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his pants. “Mine is just over there. It’s hard to miss, people don’t usually bring non case related things to read.”

“Oh, right I actually forgot this was here… I was going to join this book club and I was really excited about it too. But I just found out their meetings coincide with work hours, so now I’ve read this nearly 500 page fantasy novel and no one to talk to about it.”

A beat passes. Then another. A small surge of nervousness goes through your veins. It almost feels like you were oversharing. You were just introduced to the team, they probably didn’t need to know much about what you do outside of work.

“You can discuss it with me, if you’d like.” He briefly looks down at his feet, almost as if he’s carefully picking his next words. And he was. You were new, but you seemed nice enough. And he didn't mind the idea of taking a breather from discussing cases to discussing books, without said books having to do with a case. He didn't exactly want to come off too strong. “I like to read too. Have you finished?”

“Almost.” You click your tongue, considering his offer. Spencer shifts his weight from side to side, anticipating a response. The corners of your mouth twitches upwards at his earnestness. “That would be nice actually… how much time do you need to finish it? A couple of days or…?”

Spencer takes the book from your desk, flipping through the pages, considering the font size, the writing style. He even raises a brow when he notices the highlights and notes you’ve made across the margins. He hands it back to you with a small smile. “Give or take fifteen minutes.”

“You’re kidding.” You don’t even bother to hide the shock that’s plastered on your face. He’s a profiler, he would have noticed anyway. You flip through the pages yourself, trying to figure out if he was referring to a different book.

“I’m not.” Spencer shrugs his shoulders. “I mean I would have to buy a copy of my own first, which would have to wait until after the case.”

“Wow.” You let out a low whistle, more impressed than you had been earlier. “I guess it’s settled then. Let me know when you’ve eventually used up those fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, I will.”

“I look forward to it, Dr. Reid.”

“I do too, Agent L/n.”

Penelope Garcia and Derek Morgan watch the interaction from across the bullpen. Derek’s gaze follows Reid as he makes the short walk back to his desk. Spencer scratches the back of his head before quickly looking back across the aisle to where you were sitting. But of course, you were too busy getting your things in order to notice.

Derek keeps his voice low as he leans closer towards Penelope, crossing his arms across his chest. “Fifty bucks says pretty boy and girl wonder are going to get it on. He confesses first.”

Penelope notices you taking what looks to be a pebble from your pocket and place it by your pen holder, a soft smile spreading across your face as you looked towards Spencer. “Alright. I’ll take that action.”

taglist. @vader-is-hot @akimoons @taygrls <3

a/n. s1 spencer holds a soft spot in my heart goshh anyways- hii! i hope you enjoyed reading this- you know, despite it being mostly introductions >_< thank you for checking it out, and i hope u all have a good day :)

#filed : holy ground.#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds series

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songoftrillium · 9 months

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Werewolf: the Apocalypse 5th Edition and the Anti-Indigeneity in the Gaming Industry

reosted with permission from J.F. Sambrano

Dagot’ee!

Shii J.F. Sambrano gonsēē. My nations are Chiricahua Apache (Ndeh) through my maternal grandmother and Cora Indian (Náayarite) through my maternal grandfather. I am a mixed race Indigenous person, and through my father my heritage is English and Scottish. I am currently residing and doing work in my community on the lands of Lummi Nation. I use both gender non-binary and masculine pronouns, but prefer the former. I have several published works in the TTRPG industry, and am probably most known for my contributions to Mage: the Ascension 20th Edition, Werewolf: the Apocalypse 20th Edition, and the Transformers Roleplaying Game, as well as being part of the Essence 20 development team. Further, I also work in higher education at an Indian college, both advising and teaching Indigenous students across the United States. My passion is education, and I believe that we all learn through play, and that TTRPGs are a valuable source of learning, especially on personal, cultural, and social levels. This has always been what has drawn me to TTRPGs since I started playing M.E.R.P. with my brother in 1996 (and before that HeroQuest), through to my “graduation” into more story-driven games such as those presented in the Storyteller System, until now, where I author and produce my own roleplaying games.

I was also part of the First Team (in-joke intentional) hired by White Wolf Studios/Paradox Interactive via Hunters Entertainment to develop and author Werewolf: the Apocalypse 5th Edition. After several months of work, Paradox Interactive chose to go in another direction in early 2021 (I believe it was either March or April) and in fall of that year, it was announced that Werewolf would instead be taken in house, with Justin Achilli as the Brand Creative Lead and primary author of the book. Going forward I will be describing my experience while I worked with Paradox Interactive, primarily through Karim Muammar, White Wolf’s Brand Editor, as well as the developmental editor for Werewolf. Although I worked in a team, both with hired authors and in-house representatives at Hunters Entertainment, I will not be speaking for the experience of others, except when specifically noting unanimous consensuses, and specific interactions (which will go unnamed) that are particularly relevant. My hope is that by highlighting some of the anti-Indigenous attitudes that are central to the foundational members and leaders of the White Wolf brand, that I can provide opportunities for growth and healing within the World of Darkness TTRPG community, but also in the broader gaming community, where these behaviors and attitudes are rampant. I also want the community to have a better understanding of what this experience is like internally, and the challenges that Indigenous creators, as well as other marginalized creators, are met with when they try to make positive change within nerd and geek communities clinging to inherited white supremacist values, even if they don’t realize they are doing so.

What I do not want to be doing in this article is creating fuel for edition wars. I believe that both legacy and Werewolf 5th are rife with anti-Indigenous attitudes, and appalling amounts of appropriation. Both versions deserve criticism, I am not defending one over the other, I am only sharing what my experience was like working on the 5th edition of the book. Further, please understand that I was originally going to wait until I had read the final copy of the book, because I wanted to know how much of my work was used (based on previews I already know some was, just not the extent) and whether or not they decided to credit me for that work, and how I was going to be credited. My belief is that I likely will not be, but I am genuinely uncertain. Knowing how they handled that would have reframed how I addressed this. But more importantly, I want it to be very clear that even before Paradox ultimately pulled the plug on the Hunters team, I was preparing to exit working on the project based on the experience I will describe below. Not only did I find it frustrating, and personally disparaging, but I ultimately decided I was uncomfortable with my name being attached to the product based on the direction they wanted to go. So while I wanted to know whether or not I would be credited, because it would teach me something about their internal practices, I do not want or need the credit.

Finally, the reason that I decided to speak about this now instead of after having a chance to inspect the final product, was because my personal experience dealing with anti-Indigeneity coming from Paradox was just that: personal. But since then I have witnessed a throughline of hateful and xenophobic attitudes wielded against Indigenous people across the globe, and we do not deserve this treatment. I was outraged over the events that led to the segregation of the Latin American fanbase, which culminated from bottom-up criticism about how poorly their people and countries were being defined through World of Darkness products, and ended up with the firing of their Latin American Brand Ambassador, Alessa Torres, because she chose to stand with her community in those criticisms. I was further appalled when the likeness of Tāme Wairere Iti was shoehorned into the Werewolf book, a blatant example of cultural theft: not only in stealing the literal physical identity of an Indigenous person, but also his sacred tā moko. When Paradox Interactive issued an apology for this, it felt incredibly hollow to me in the wake of these events, the hateful attitudes I had personally witnessed coming from the top.

Whether from North America, Mexico, Brazil, Argentina, or Peru, or across the globe in New Zealand, not only do Indigenous people deserve better treatment from such a major company, but their Indigenous and Latino fanbases, who have twisted and worked themselves through difficult representation for decades at this point, deserve better. Apologies are not enough, especially when they come with next to no real change.

Werewolf: the Apocalypse in Context

At the time that White Wolf Publishing began to produce its World of Darkness line, the TTRPG industry was dominated by white men, both as producers, developers, and authors, as well as the main characters in their settings. White Wolf's World of Darkness made an impact at the time, by defying these Eurocentric, patriarchal presentations, first by defaulting to feminine pronouns throughout Vampire: the Masquerade, and then by focusing on Indigenous representation and values in Werewolf: the Apocalypse, and as a young Indigenous nerd, it had a positive impact on me, as I know it has on some other Indigenous people who became fans of the World of Darkness at the time. This was because before opening the pages of Werewolf: the Apocalypse, I had never seen heroes that I could play who looked like me and my culture. It was off, and often offensive, but it was my first experience in which I could directly play a hero who shared my heritage--and I also had more than one option through two different Tribes to do so. This might sound a little like I was cheering for table scraps, but again, at the time, table scraps was more than I had ever seen before.

Werewolf: the Apocalypse 1st Edition was originally published in 1992 via then White Wolf Publishing (not to be confused with Paradox Interactive's White Wolf). From its inception, the premise was interwoven with what its then-authors believed to be Indigenous praxis and representation. Like many pop-culture presentations of Indigeneity from this time period (see Fern Gully, Dances With Wolves, Disney’s Pocahontas, or in TTRPGs, the NAN from Shadowrun) it was rife with problematic and even offensive stereotyping. The most obvious examples thereof are within the two "Pure Tribes" Uktena, and W****** who I will henceforth refer to as Older and Younger Brother. However, Indigenous inspiration was at the core of the game's spiritual premise as well, where animism and "Totems" are central to the setting and gameplay. The way these concepts are presented is trivializing and dehumanizing, but it is important to acknowledge that the appropriation present in Werewolf: the Apocalypse goes a lot deeper than the two Brother Tribes (even the term "Tribe" was meant to invoke a vision of Indigeneity compared to the previous setting in the line's use of "Clan"). Additionally, there is art throughout every generation of these gaming books that represents humans, wolves, and human-wolf hybrid forms wearing Indigenous regalia, including sacred items such as headdresses, or engaged in sacred rituals such as the Sun Dance. The list of problematic representations goes deep, and my examples only scratch the surface, but it is also important for me to note the positive impact that this had, particularly in the 90's.

Even though the primary contributors to these narratives were non-Indigenous authors, or in one case, a Pretendian, and another, a culturally disconnected author, by the time the Revised (or Third Edition) era of the books came around, White Wolf Publishing was actively engaged in cultural consultation. While I do not believe cultural consultation makes a big difference on its own, it matters that the attempt was made, to a degree: while these efforts fall short of what needs to be seen in cultural representation, this was still ahead of most other gaming companies at this time.

Hired by Hunters Entertainment

In February of 2020 I was approached by one of the co-owners of Hunters Entertainment to be one of the primary authors for Werewolf: 5th Edition due to my work on other World of Darkness projects, and let's be honest, because I was capable of bringing a much needed Indigenous perspective to a gameline that was rooted in Indigeneity and rotting with appropriation and racist stereotypes. I was overall receptive to the invitation, largely because I was very passionate about the World of Darkness setting overall, and Werewolf in particular, due to the impact that 90's representation had on me when I was a younger gamer. I also felt hopeful that with a really hard rewrite of Indigenous aspects of the game that I could shift a lot of really painful aspects of the game into something that was a net positive for Indigenous representation. I will tell you now, more than anything, I was excited to rewrite the Younger Brother Tribe, because when separated from racist authors, their message is very empowering and real to my lived experience.

That said, I did not agree to join the project without first asking for reassurances. I said that I was not willing to write negative Native stereotypes. I would not use appropriative language, or generally engage in appropriative writing (which meant at minimum that the names of the Pure Tribes would need to change), and most importantly, that I would not not engage in writing that contributed to erasure. While the person who recruited me to work on the project was eager to work with me, he acknowledged that he was not sure he could get everything I wanted to see approved, but also promised to fight for everything I suggested as hard as he could. Additionally, he shared with me that the original setting pitch for W5 involved all of Younger Brother being slaughtered en masse in a massacre. I made it clear that this was exactly the kind of thing that I would not write. I cannot remember if this was something he suggested to be changed before or after I was invited onto the project, but with some pushback it was changed. However, I point this out because I want you, the reader, to understand how eager Paradox Interactive was to start with mass genocide and erasure as a foundation to the setting. All that said, I cannot stress enough that I have had nothing but positive experiences with Hunters Entertainment, and none of the following concerns fall upon them.

The Sword of Heimdall

The first encounter the Hunters Entertainment team as a whole had with problematic guidelines for the W5 draft was the direction that Paradox Interactive wanted to go with the Sword of Heimdall. At the time, the suggestions from Paradox and Karim Muammar were that the Sword of Heimdall was going to represent the new major villain of the Werewolf setting, and that they were to also represent the far-right, fascist direction that Werewolf society so often turned toward. They were meant to be representative of how far the new concept of Hauglosk could take entire communities. However, the Sword of Heimdall was discussed interchangeably with the Get of Fenris as a whole, and more than once Muammar seemed to suggest that every member of this Tribe was guilty of the same attitudes espoused in previous editions from the Sword of Heimdall. Now let's not beat around the bush: the Sword of Heimdall are literal Nazis. They believe directly in white supremacy and don't shy from it. They wanted to cleanse impure elements from the Get of Fenris, including BIPOC people, other non-white ethnicities, women, neurodivergent Garou, and other disabled Garou.

The writing team found this approach problematic for several reasons. The first, and most obvious, was that the direction seemed to want to turn one of the most popular Tribes into a horrific stereotype of its most abhorrent faction. Whether or not Muammar’s goal was to turn them into villains, we could not imagine a world where fans of previous editions would get their hands on this book, and not look for a way to play one of their previous favorite groups, thus creating the issue of making a guide to playing Nazi. Even beyond that, it’s not as if historically there were not players who used the tools of the setting to play Black Spiral Dancers, why wouldn’t this draw people who actually wanted to role-play through these toxic, harmful politics? Further, and while this is less important, it left a bad taste in my mouth, the justification for this major shift in Werewolf lore seemed to change over each pass. At first, Muammar suggested that all Fenrir were Nazis/SoH. Then, when he was provided with evidence that it was a small faction that was eliminated in the early 2000’s, he started to shift toward the idea that we should not follow the lore. Finally, when every single member of the writer’s team flatly refused to provide what would essentially be “a player’s guide to being a Nazi werewolf” the writing was on the wall about the end of our involvement with this product. More than once, he suggested that we were cowardly social justice warriors for being unwilling to work with this concept, even though there were several attempts to write a heroic version of the Fenrir that were focused on undoing these ills of the past.

Indigenous Erasure in Werewolf: 5th Edition

While the entire Hunters Entertainment writing team was handling the major, glaring issue of Paradox’s fervor to include a major Nazi element in Werewolf, I was personally dealing with the problematic approach to the Indigenous issues in the setting. The largest problem, for me, was in addressing Younger Brother’s issues, the history of non-Indigenous writers creating horrifically racist stereotypes, and what was valuable in the Tribal identity that should be saved and recentered. However, my attempts to do so were thwarted with every approach. I rewrote this Tribe four times, and offered three different versions of it to try to earn approval for a final write-up, but each time there was a lot of negativity directed towards my attempts and all them boiled down to this: Muammar felt that having two Tribes (both Younger and Older Brother) representing the “Indigenous population” was too many, and wanted them to only be focused on Older Brother, and that Younger Brother’s connection to a central, Indigenous identity, was undesirable because “other sources wrote them as having Siberian and European connections” and that future writing on this Tribe would require a lot of sensitivity…suggesting that one, Muammar wasn’t interested in doing the work to handle that level of sensitivity, and further, that he wasn’t interested in including me in future work, since I was involved with doing that at the time.

I want to take a moment to remind you that the work that was put into recovering Younger Brother started with “Let’s Kill Them Off” and at this point, through a combination of convincing and pleading, had been walked back to “They can live, but now they’re not connected to being Indigenous anymore” which is just representative genocide of a different variety. “Kill the Indian in him, and save the man.” It was also explicitly something I said I would not write about going into this project. Ultimately, my efforts did not get much further than this, with some specific exceptions I will cite below.

Karim Muammar’s Anti-Indigenous Positions

Muammar consistently and repeatedly communicated to the team in ways that were condescending and dismissive of our collective accomplishments and capabilities, but from my perspective, no one suffered as much significant derision as I did while discussing the changes I wanted to make to Younger and Older Brother in order to make their representation empowering and exciting.

In the pulled quote from the previous paragraph, I want to point out to you that Muammar, who had the title of Lead Editor on this project, refused to capitalize Native American. Further, he would often redline my work with edits to decapitalize my own uses of Native American, as well as the word Indigenous when referring to Indigenous peoples. While there are plenty of people who might want to argue about this, I will point out that both the AP style guide as well as the Chicago style guide (the one which I am most familiar with in my academic historical work) both call for Indigenous to be capitalized when referring to a people. Further, I challenge anyone to defend the consistent decapitalization of Native American. More importantly, the reason that these are standards in respected style guides, is because the English language has been used historically to oppress and erase ethnic identities, including Indigenous identities. By transforming adjectives into proper nouns, we are declaring that Indigenous and Native aren’t descriptors that can be applied to animals, plants, and soil, but real lived identities and culture groups.

When I was explaining to the Paradox team (which was mostly just Muammar) why it was important to change the names of these two Tribes from the appropriative (and offensive) ones used in the past, Muammar pushed back by defending the previously used Younger Brother name, even after reading my extensive research and explanation about how this would harm Indigenous communities and fans.

While doing so, he also decided that it was appropriate to refer to this entirely Native American tribe by the word “savages” a slur that has been specifically used to dehumanize Native Americans, and then mocked my rewrite that focused on presenting them as stewards of the land using Indigenous methodologies and praxes, instead of the “savage” racist stereotypes they were presented as in previous editions. Further, as in the above quote, even after it was communicated that the use of this term was problematic, he kept doubling-down to use it to refer to the Tribe.

Even though I worked hard to redefine Younger Brother through Indigenous theory, such as place-based theory, relational theory, and communal theory, Muammar either refused to recognize this work, dismissing it as simple, or else simply could not understand the importance of these changes. Either way, the choice is that he didn’t want them to change, or couldn’t comprehend why the change was important because of how entrenched in white supremacist thinking he is. Further, after the massive effort that I put forward to attempt to educate him and the rest of the Paradox team on these issues, the insistence on using offensive terms and belittling my work felt intentional. So let’s talk about the work I did that was above and beyond my job description: free cultural consulting work.

“Sensitivity” and Consultation

I have seen several misunderstandings of my role working on this project going around, so I want to make something very clear. I was hired to work on this project as an author, and nothing else. I was not ever hired to be a cultural consultant. I do not do cultural consulting work. While I feel that there are many creators and companies who hire cultural consultants with the best intentions in mind, their responses often fall short of what is needed, as no one is ever obligated to actually follow the advice of cultural consultants. Further, I think there are also many companies who choose to hire cultural consultants only to say “we did this minimal step, and that is enough” in order to ward off naysayers.

However, anyone who hires me gets some level of cultural consulting for free, because it comes out in my writing–in both what I won’t write and what I choose to center my writing around. In the case of Werewolf 5th Edition, however, it was far more involved than this. I came with a plethora of “I will not write X” because I knew the setting was so problematic. A short list of my demands besides not being willing to write Indigenous erasure, was that we needed to change the names of the Pure Tribes (and the term Pure Tribe itself), we needed to change the word Totem to Patron, and also the Patrons of the Pure Tribes. We needed to move away from the term Metis for obvious reasons, and we needed to move away from the term Skin Dancers. I also specifically noted that there was a lot of cultural theft happening from the beginning of Werewolf until now that I wanted to address. The only way these issues were going to be addressed was to convince Paradox they were actual issues on the level of PR concerns, because nothing else was likely going to be considered. So in order to achieve this, I put in weeks worth of research, writing, and meetings with top level administrators with Hunters Entertainment so that they could bring this information to Paradox. I never documented my hours, but I would guess that I did approximately 80-100 hours of what I could only describe as cultural consultation work for free that was outside the contract work I was hired for. Let’s be clear: I did this willingly because I was passionate about the positive changes I wanted to see in this product, because I believed that Werewolf’s historic ills could be turned toward non-toxic representation.

Besides my actual words, such as naming the Ghost Council, and arguably the name Gale Stalkers came from a combination of names I pitched to Paradox after Winter’s Teeth was denied, and several sentences and paragraphs that I have seen so far that appear so close to what I originally wrote that you could imagine they were just edited versions, my largest contribution toward the final version of Werewolf: 5th Edition was this work. The only reason the offensive, appropriated names were changed were because of hours of my work to convince them it needed to happen. The reason that the Gale Stalkers aren’t just dead and gone: again, I pushed against this. The reason that Skin Dancers, Totem, and Metis will not appear as canonical titles? I pushed against their unwillingness to alter these things (see Karim’s defense of Wen**** Tribe name above).

Further, and this is the biggest reason I decided to write this article before seeing the final version of the book, I want to mention that I was also included in discussions with Hunters Entertainment to potentially be part of the art direction team, especially to oversee depictions of Indigenous characters, regalia, and art, to ensure that it would be represented either respectfully or not at all. I decided I needed to speak as soon as possible after the artistic portrayal of Tāme Iti appeared in the Glass Walkers preview without his permission. There are many arguments surrounding this issue and I am not going to address everything, but ultimately, I can tell you that had I remained as part of the art direction team, and saw that, I would have questioned it immediately. Even if I didn’t recognize Tāme Iti immediately, I would have asked what the source was on the depiction of moko in that piece, because I am aware that this is a sacred form of art–and I had already discussed wanting to make sure things like Crinos in headdresses didn’t appear in the book (as had often happened in previous editions, particularly on a certain white-skinned character whose name rhymes with Steals-the-Past).

As time working on this project went on, and I went through rounds and rounds of trying to convince Muammar and Paradox that it was important to not steal Indigenous identities, art, and stories, and that a greater effort needed to be put in powerful and empowering Indigenous representation, and I constantly ran into refusals and criticisms that were clearly hateful toward Indigenous identities and peoples, not to mention the push to represent Nazism as a major part of the game setting, I grew increasingly frustrated and restless with feeling like I was trying to work on a challenging project while also defending my right to exist as the person I am at every turn. Eventually I turned to another Indigenous TTRPG and game creator to ask for advice, and after a long and difficult discussion, I came to the conclusion that I was going to talk to the Hunters administration team and tell them that if Muammar kept using slurs and other anti-Indigenous language and attitudes, I was going to need to step off of this project, because it was harmful to me on a personal level. In furtherance of this point, I have been avoiding doing any contract work at all where I can tell that I am wanted for my specific cultural perspective ever since, because this situation was so harrowing for me.

Unfortunately, before I could have this conversation, after one final draft of Younger Brother and Bone Gnawers (which had its own issues, but that is not the point of this discussion), before we received any other specific feedback, the Hunters Entertainment administrators announced to the writing team that Paradox had decided to take the book in-house, and would no longer need our services.

The main point I would like to leave you with, besides these few specific quotes (out of dozens and dozens) that Muammar made that were anti-Indigenous, is that there is often a big call to have more BIPOC voices in various entertainment industries, so that both our stories, perspectives, and unique views on how the universe and life works, can be included; so that an industry that is historically, harmfully Eurocentric, might turn toward new, healthier, and inclusive directions. And I agree with this call for change, but I implore you to consider the conditions that BIPOC creators often have to work under: doing cultural/identity work and consultation for free as part of being present, being subject to vicious refusals of our experiences and perspectives, and straight-up having slurs lodged against our work. I want to see these changes in the industries we love, including the gaming industry, but currently the people who are in charge, who have the most power, are severely hostile to our work and our perspectives. This is why, for example, works like Coyote & Crow were done with an almost entirely Indigenous group of creators, and led by Indigenous creators, because trying to work for and with this ugly, hateful, and xenophobic group of people is so often exhausting, both mentally and spiritually, and because no good changes end up being made.

I am glad the harmful, appropriative terms were removed from the setting. I am glad I was part of the fight to make that real. I am not so glad that I was treated with hostility and racism by Muammar for the effort and love I put into this work, and I am not so glad that I will certainly be reviled by one of the two communities I did this work for–the gaming community, and certainly the people in power in this industry–and I am also not so glad that I didn’t have the opportunity to properly acknowledge how much of Werewolf’s base themes and setting are twisted and tied-up in Indigenous appropriation without giving the proper acknowledgments.

More than anything, I hope that this story will help you, the fans, realize that there is a lot of darkness in these communities, and they won’t change unless you hold their feet to the fire.

Ánaagodzįįhł

J.F. Sambrano

#decolonization #ttrpg #werewolves #writing #world of darkness #werewolf: the apocalypse #werewolf the apocalypse #mage: the ascension #vampire: the masquerade #changeling: the dreaming

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meowpupp · 1 month

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as a thank you for hitting 1k followers, and an apology for my absence, I would like to share my take on poly!141.

poly141! x recruit!reader. 1.5k words. mentions of sex, although no smut. yet.

you're a sweet little thing. smart as a whip, nerdy, and confident. having spent most of your post highschool graduate years studying, youve acquired numerous impressive qualifications. while most people your age in university were out partying, getting blind drunk, hooking up, you were studying.

a tech genius. that's what laswell had sold you as to price. he had been hesitant to allow any new members at all, especially ones so young. and yet, taskforce 141 sees two new additions. the newest little tech genius who's climbing quickly through the ranks, and another soldier. someone by the name of roach.

at first, you weren't amused. as a woman in the military, your life was already difficult enough. being assigned to an all male taskforce felt like your worst nightmare. but after some convincing from laswell, and realizing this would be the fastest way to make a name for yourself, you sign the papers.

your first week is smooth, albeit awkward. you and the other new recruit, roach, get along fairly well. he's funny, a little dorky, but obviously skilled. he isn't as intimidating as the others, being almost as young as you. you find yourself gravitating to him often, often staying up late together, eating meals together, and even training together. you make quick friends.

and so, it's only natural that you both end up becoming… closer. late night talks turn into makeouts, and makeouts turn into grinding. it's somewhat clumsy however… as if the two of you can quite place the power dynamics.

the others, however, are much more of a challenge to get along with. you're cautious, aware these men have been in this business much longer than you. the four of them- price, ghost, gaz, and soap- are a power unit. it takes weeks for you to find your place within the team.

price tries to be welcoming, although it doesn't quite work. there's this sense of authority and power around him that makes you feel small, almost submissive. his gruff voice sends shivers down your spine each time he speaks over comms, panties growing wet each time he gives you a direct order.

it's almost as if he knows, whispering your name rather than your military nickname. his voice sounds almost seductive. it makes you feel like a pervert, imagining him growling in your ear each time you get off.

price has a way of always remaining in control and not just with you. the power dynamics within the task force are subtle yet well established. there seems to be a chain of command that follows their ranks. price on top, then ghost, then gaz and soap. you notice how they all drop casual innuendos, their affection for each other, corssing over the boundary of just friendliness.

ghost barely looks, let alone, speaks to you for the first month. you're unsure if he even likes you. on the field, he's sharp and alert. you occasionally hear him share banter with the others, but never feel brave enough to join in. the man is intimidating, almost three times your size, a quiet sort of confidence and dominance that follows him around. he's the one you train with most often.

ghost is ruthless. he slams you into the matt, somehow always ending up between your thighs, his big hands holding them apart and pinning you down. you can't help but memorise the sight. your Lieutenant, panting, slightly sweat as he holding you in such a lewd position, glaring down at you.

it's your favourite fantasy to think about late at night as you touch yourself, unaware that the walls are so thin that ghost himself hears you whimper his name. he strokes himself in time with the slick noises of your cunt, imagining how desperate you must look.

gaz isn't intimidating, per say. he isn't distant like ghost or unapproachable like price. the man has such a casual confidence and arrogance around him. he's the first to speak to you, ask you about yourself. throughout your career, you've met many military soldiers. most the men fit into two categories, misogynistic dicks who don't believe you have a place within the ranks, or disgusting perverts who want a quick fuck (most of them have wives, even kids.) but gaz is refreshing. he fits into neither.

he often starts conversations with you. asking questions and truly listening as you speak. little do you know he records each one, saving them for when he's alone late at night. something about the way you speak, your tone, the quiet rasp or accent, it makes him stupidly hard. he's not above recording you while you workout, standing just close enough to capture each huff and grunt as you lift. it's those recordings that get him off the quickest, wondering how whiny youd sound if he held a vibrator to your clit, didnt let up until you were crying and covered in slick.

and soap. the man is difficult for you to read. your first impression is that he's one of those men who fit into the ‘misogynistic asshole’ category. apart from your initial meeting, he practically ignores you.

you can tell its not deliberate. he just seems more immersed in the natural, pre-established dynamic of the taskforce. the one that doesn't include you. it takes a while, but after a month or two, your interactions become more common.

he turns out to be very respectful- even helpful. due to your background in tech, you skipped a few ranks when you joined. soap helps you in the shooting range. standing behind you, body pressing into yours from behind, correcting your posture before you fire.

you even create games with each other. he gives you little quizzes. theyre normally about gun components, military jargon, or even field upgrades. with each quiz he promises a ‘reward.’

its embarrassing whenever you blush and grow wet when he says it. the rough growl of his voice, combined with the accent he has, all makes you dizzy. you don't even notice how he plays it up, practically purring out the word, smirking as you squirm, making sure to graze his fingertips over your hot skin.

it's obvious that after a month or two, that roach is significantly more acclimated than you. it feels unfair. your relationship with each member is steadily growing, yet something about how roach interacts with them is so different. it's like you're missing a puzzle piece.

it isn't until one night when you're venting your frustration that roach reveals the reason he's clicked with them so quickly.

“It's like an initiation,” he smirks, eyes flicking away from you, “think of it kind of like…. hazing.” his eyes are almost predatory as he meets yours again, so unlike the goofy persona he usually has, “if you like, I could speak to price. they have started to discuss inviting you in.”

it's as if everything made sense now. it wasn't your fault. it was another case of discrimination, you being left out because you didn't fit into their stupid boys club.

ever since that conversation with roach, you have become frustrated, irritable, and short with them all. you fulfilled all your required tasks but refused to engage with them any further. denying invites to the pub, ignoring gaz when he tried to speak, training alone, no longer asking soap for help.

after about a week of this, price calls you to his office.

a sick sense of unease and anxiety settles in your gut. the man is so intimidating, and this surely wasn't a positive meeting. you've never been in a position like this. all throughout school, you were a grade A student, and within your years in the military, you've always maintained basic respect and politeness. you've never been in trouble with a CO.

when you step into his office, however, all your expectations are subverted. price sits at his desk, smoking a cigar. roach leans against it next to him. the two of them are speaking lowly.

price notices you first. his eyes carry an emotion you haven't seen before. lust. he's staring at you as if you're some sort of prey. with a smirk, he blows out a large puff of smoke. it curls around him, only making him more intimidating.

“if you were feeling excluded, sweetheart, you should've made me aware.” he leans back in his chair. suddenly, the room feels so small, your body getting hot, “id be more than happy to include you.”

roach walks towards you, guiding you further into the office. he doesn't let you sit, however, instead standing behind you, hands groping your hips. his fingertips slip under your shirt, brushing the sensitive skin of your stomach.

he kisses your neck, “price wants to see how pretty you are,” his hands slide further up, taking your shirt off, “let's give him a show, yeah?”

cont.

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sy-on-boy · 2 months

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My 2 cents on the plot / thematic relevance of Ch 95

This is not about advancing Plot B or showing Anya's school life (which is still true but has been discussed), but rather the overall theme of education and war. There was an excellent post about how Eden is at the frontline of the cold war and it is subtly shown through the innocent lens of the first graders (I can't find it now, would link it if I could). And I think that perfectly applies to Ch 95.

Quick recap on some references about education/students/war throughout the series (that I remember at the moment):

Sylvia gravely condemning the Berlint University Student Terrorists during the Doggy Crisis arc (Ch 20) and saying "did you learn nothing about war at your university?"

Henderson talking about his experience as a history teacher (Ch 27.5, Short Mission 4) and quote: "Yes, well, I have always maintained that there is nothing to be learned from the memorization of time lines. From the grand efforts with which our forefathers crafted society to the foolish notions that sent them racing to war, to not study the human element at history's root is to not understand history at all"

Note that Damian's best subject has been established to be history, and his family (father) has been involved in war, at least Donovan was PM during most of the war (established by Melinda in Ch 91). Donovan is also a graduated Imperial Scholar (Ch 64).

The Red Circus group started out as a peaceful student demonstration "advocating for peace and quality" (Ch 72) and "speaking out to protect the weakest members of our society". And Billy Squire said, "We were a respectable movement that fought for our cause with respectable means. It was the state that turned violent against us. So I'm not taking criticism from a member of the establishment (referring to Henderson, an educator). I'm gonna see to it that they reap what they've sown." Billy's daughter Biddy was killed by the state at a protest.

Less of a point, but Becky is the daughter of the CEO of a major military manufacturer. Despite their very likely involvement in military conflicts because they sell arms, the Blackbell cohort has been depicted positively so far: Becky being a kind, wonderful friend to Anya, Becky's father doting on her, and Martha again being kind and dignified (and also being an ex-soldier and acquainted with Henderson).

Eden Academy is a major setting for SxF and the themes of politics, education, and war are embedded in it. The students involved in protests/groups are older (the university students, Billy's daughter), but the political implications remain even among the youngest of the students— the first graders.

Hence, Ch 95. When mere first graders are shown to fight to gain connections, which can be political as pointed out by Henderson: "In the world of politics, dances serve as major social events". But of course, they are kids, so they see it more playfully and innocently, especially Becky with her shipper lens on.

Of course, there is also the aspect of getting to know other people better out of interest (the boys asking Anya and Becky to dance because they were impressed after the bus hijacking). But as people have mentioned, nobody mentions this to Damian despite him being equally involved in saving the class (all three of them got a star). The girls aren't interested in Damian as a person, they're interested in him as an asset because of his family and their power.

And I can see the teachers trying to diffuse the tension and create camaraderie with their friendly competition. To me, this reads as the teachers fully realizing "the battlefield of political maneuvering", and they want to remind the kids to have fun, to show good sportsmanship, to unite the kids, to operate as a class and be friendly with one another, and overall make it more lighthearted. It's nice to see the classes work together and get excited / win as a unit, especially compared to the more "individual" bits of fighting for a dance partner later.

We get a bit of comparison between Bill and Damian, with Bill showing good sportsmanship while Damian scoffs at him. But Damian ends up becoming ultra competitive and telling his classmates to not screw it up.

Like the Dodgeball chapter, Damian is clumsily attempting to lead the class by doing good in his quiz, while getting stressed and yelling at his peers when they don't succeed like he did. So he's not really a good leader. Like how him being good at history does not necessarily mean he is good at being peaceful (Short Mission 4 ends with Henderson staring in exasperation at Damian + Anya bickering with each other). But obviously, he is merely a child, and he is naturally immature.

At first Loid is all for advancing Plan B and analysed Anya's suitors in a rational (reductionist?) way by ranking them in terms of gaining intelligence, but he remembers this is just a dance, Anya is a kid, and she should do whatever she wants. Loid (and the adults) are very aware of the political side of the gala, but ultimately they want the kids to have fun and not worry / worry less about politics.

Because they're kids! They'll grow up and learn more and be politically active later, but right now, they're just kids. Kids who don't know much about the world but are eager to make the world a better place.

In the end, we get a panel of Anya and Loid "teaming up" to win Damian's hand for Plan B / world peace. The Damian-Anya dynamic is cushioned with the silly crushy feelings, but underneath it, Operation Strix continues to be a core motivation.

I find it interesting that Endo chooses to focus on the first graders and their innocent view of the world / politics. It's embedded everywhere and especially in a prominent school like Eden, but the kids don't really realise it / realise the severity of it. Heirs and heiresses are educated at Eden and grow up to have incredible influence and the power to shape the world. Our protagonist's best friend comes from a family that manufactures arms. Henderson mentions the importance of learning history to avoid making the same mistakes (ie. war).

So Ch 95 is a cute prom chapter. But I think it also helps to show the themes underneath the fun, bubbly interactions.

#spy x family spoilers #spy x family #spy x family manga #sxf analysis #meta #idk #what do i tag #long post

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vakarians-babe · 1 year

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After a historic 6 week strike, the Temple University Graduate Students Association - the first graduate worker union in Pennsylvania - has WON.

When we went out on January 31st, I don’t think any of us thought that we would end up here. This was a long and arduous process that could never have been accomplished without everyone involved—and I do mean everyone.

Numerous news outlets have been reporting throughout the whole strike, but I’d like to run through what, exactly, it is we’ve done.

After well over a year of negotiations (we went to the table in January of 2022 after the administration delayed responding to our RFIs for months) and more than a year without a contract (it expired on February 15, 2022), we were stuck with an administrative team whose position was, resolutely, “we are happy with the contract as it is.” Their belief was that teaching and research assistants, who facilitate—at a conservative estimate—approximately one-third of all instructional work here on campus were “not a core function of the university.” Pay was structured around a tier-based system that generated inequity as part of its structure which ultimately manifested as race and gender based wage gaps, and that pay averaged out between 19k and 20k for the majority of our bargaining unit. We had only five days of parental leave in the event of childbirth. To cover a single dependent on the dependent healthcare plan required an individual to spend approximately 30% of their paycheck. There had been no substantive raises or adjustments for the cost of living since our first contract as a union.

During the strike, Temple university cut our healthcare and revoked tuition remission, attempting to break us through punitive bills and threats. They quite literally threatened peoples’ lives in addition to their livelihoods. International students were threatened for daring to exercise the rights they have as visa holders to engage in protected concerted activity. They attempted to break our will and our organization.

They failed. We didn’t.

On Monday, voting on a second tentative agreement closed. The contract negotiations team and the executive board unanimously endorsed that TA. It passed at an overwhelming 98% vote among our members. That TA, which will now become our contract, did the following:

Eliminated the tier system completely

Brought our pay up to 24k at the beginning of our contract, reaching pay of 27k by its end in 2026

Introduced 25% dependent healthcare coverage which, in addition to the pay raises, lowers the burden of single dependent care to just about 18% of one’s paycheck instead of 30%

Increased parental leave to 21 days

While this contract is not the most perfect contract, it is one of the largest single contract wins in recent history. It signifies an incredible amount of organizing power and it opens the door for future negotiations that will make TUGSA even stronger.

But more importantly, this strike and this contract are incontrovertible proof that graduate worker unions can win. They are proof that we can do it, and that administrations cannot expect to silence us through retaliation. We are stronger than them.

The fight doesn’t end here. The union of graduate workers, faculty, postdocs and more at Rutgers University has passed their strike authorization vote. The graduate workers at Duke University are fighting for their right to be recognized as employees, and that fight will soon be passed up through the nation to challenge rulings made at the National Labor Relations Board. Graduate workers at other universities in Pennsylvania and the Philadelphia area are moving to unionize. TUGSA continues to organize—our next contract negotiations will begin in less than two and a half years. Now is the time to support graduate workers. We cannot backslide. We have to fight for each other, because when we fight, we win.

#tugsa #templeunionmade #temple university #grad worker strike #strike #labor rights

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capybaracorn · 1 day

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Columbia suspends students after deadline to end Gaza camp passes

The number of arrests has crossed 1,100 since New York police detained first demonstrators at Columbia on April 18.

(April 30th 2024)

Pro-Palestinian demonstrators hold a protest outside Columbia University in New York City. [Michael M Santiago/Getty Images via AFP]

Columbia University has begun suspending student demonstrators after they defied an ultimatum to disperse.

The New York University, the epicentre of pro-Palestinian protests that have upended college campuses across the United States, made the call on Monday.

The move follows almost two weeks of protests against Israel’s war in Gaza, which have swept through higher education institutions from coast to coast, and spread into Europe. The demonstrators have demanded that the universities cease all investment in Israel or companies that are seen as supporting its war effort.

The response of the authorities has been tough, with critics of the protests referring to sporadic instances of anti-Semitism. About 100 protesters were arrested at Columbia on April 18.

In the latest crackdown, authorities at the prestigious university in New York had demanded that the protest encampment be cleared by 2pm (18:00 GMT) or students would face disciplinary action.

“These repulsive scare tactics mean nothing compared to the deaths of over 34,000 Palestinians,” said a statement, read out by a student at a news conference after the deadline passed, referring to the death toll in Gaza.

“We will not move until Columbia meets our demands or … [we] are moved by force,” said the student.

A few hours later, Columbia vice president of communications, Ben Chang, said the university had “begun suspending students as part of this next phase of our efforts to ensure safety on our campus”.

He said students had been warned they would be “placed on suspension, ineligible to complete the semester or graduate, and will be restricted from all academic, residential, and recreational spaces”.

Meanwhile, at the University of Texas in Austin, police used pepper spray as they clashed with protesters on Monday. Arrests were made as they dismantled an encampment, adding to the more than 350 people detained nationwide over the weekend.

“No encampments will be allowed,” Texas Governor Greg Abbott said on social media. “Instead, arrests are being made.”

Protests against the Gaza war, with its high Palestinian civilian death toll, have posed a challenge to university administrators trying to balance free speech rights with complaints that the rallies have veered into anti-Semitism and hate.

Footage of police in riot gear summoned at various colleges to break up rallies has been viewed around the world, recalling the protest movement that erupted during the Vietnam War.

Columbia University president, Minouche Shafik, in a statement on Monday announcing talks had broken down, said, “Many of our Jewish students, and other students as well, have found the atmosphere intolerable in recent weeks.

“Many have left campus, and that is a tragedy,” she continued. “Anti-Semitic language and actions are unacceptable and calls for violence are simply abhorrent.”

Protest organisers deny accusations of anti-Semitism, arguing their actions are aimed at Israel’s government and its prosecution of the conflict in Gaza.

They also insist there have been incidents engineered by non-student agitators.

A protester wears the university's disciplinary warning covered over by support for Palestinians in Gaza at Columbia University in New York City. [Alex Kent/Getty Images via AFP]

The protests have upended university campuses across the US, with the number of arrests crossing 1,100. [Caitlin Ochs/Reuters]

A faculty member holds up a sign as faculty members seek to protect students in the Pro-Palestinian "Gaza Solidarity Encampment" at Columbia University. [Michael M Santiago/Getty Images via AFP]

Protesters at Columbia defied a deadline to disband the event with chants, clapping and drumming. [Stefan Jeremiah/AP Photo]

Columbia University issued a notice to the protesters asking them to disband their encampment after negotiations failed to come to a resolution. [Spencer Platt/Getty Images via AFP]

Demonstrators gathered outside an entrance to Columbia University as the 2pm deadline to disband or face suspension approached. [David Dee Delgado/Reuters]

Students condemned the university’s attempts to silence the protesters and said they were determined to continue. “What trumps our fear is our love for Palestine, and our love for liberation, and our refusal to accept subjugation and censorship from an oppressive institution,” one said. [Nuri Vallbona/Reuters]

Pro-Palestinian supporters continue to demonstrate on the campus of Columbia University. [Spencer Platt/Getty Images via AFP]

One graduate student protester said: "It's finals week. But at the end of the day, school is temporary." [Alex Kent/Getty Images via AFP]

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cas-kingdom · 11 months

Note

Would you write for criminal minds, Spencer and his sister? Something fluffy, brother & sister, I really suck at prompts so hopefully this is enough 🥲

“Did you know there’s actually a phobia of your glass being empty?"

The bustling and noise of the Las Vegas club was no match for Spencer Reid. Sat at a bar stool while he waited for his glass of water, the genius grinned openly as he struck up in a one-sided conversation with the barman.

"It’s called cenosillicaphobia," he continued obliviously, "a mouthful, I know. Breaking it down to the origin; Ceno comes from a Greek word 'kenos', meaning empty, whereas 'sillica' refers to quartz, or glass in this context. Lastly, 'phobia', as you may know, means fear. Putting it all together, you’ll have 'the fear of an empty glass'. Neat, huh?"

As unit chief, Aaron Hotchner was privy to many aspects of his team members that the others weren't. He could usually tell before anyone else when someone would react a certain way, or when a particular case would hit someone the hardest. As he sat at his own stool, partly engaged in conversation with Derek, Rossi, and some girls he couldn't quite remember the names of, and partly with an ear and eye geared towards Spencer's direction, he found himself focusing specifically on you.

As your twenty-first birthday and graduation gift rolled into one, the team had banded together to afford a weekend trip to Vegas. You'd arrived earlier that evening, and after an expensive meal you'd dragged them all to a club. It had gone down well of course, with J.J., Penelope and Emily immediately dancing off the copious amounts of alcohol they'd already drunk, and Hotch, Spencer, Derek and Rossi entertaining their conversations with whichever women decided to walk up to them.

You had flit between both groups, at one point hauling them together in the middle of the dance floor when you insisted the BAU's song—'Ghostbusters', of course—was playing. For the past twenty minutes however, as the clock steadily approached four am and the girls resorted to sitting cross-legged in a corner somewhere, giggling about anything and everything, you had been hovering by your brother and sucking melted ice through a straw. The moment Spencer had started talking, however, you'd edged closer to him, and Hotch had seen it.

His suspicions elevated when the barman handed Spencer his drink with a less than impressed look on his face. "Thanks for that," he deadpanned.

Spencer hopped off his seat with a grin. "You're welcome!" he said before making his way back over to the guys.

Hotch took a sip from his drink as he watched. He ignored Spencer as he rejoined the conversation, instead sidling discreetly closer to you. Like he'd said, he knew his team, and he knew you. He knew how you could be. And he knew—

“Fucking freak," said the barman.

There.

Hotch paused, brows furrowed. The man hadn't said it particularly quietly, causing the people around him to laugh, but Spencer was too engaged in conversation now to have heard it. You, on the other hand...

Hotch watched, unsure whether he should be amused or concerned, as the muscles in your face tensed and you lay your forearms on the countertop. Leaning over, you grasped the man's shirt sleeve none too gently, tugging him backwards before he could turn away.

“Hey, Tim," you said, noting his name badge, "you know...I absolutely love what you’ve done with your hair. Tell me, how’d you get it to stick out your nostrils like that?”

Despite the drunkenness of your, quite frankly awful, insult, the barman bristled. Hotch stepped quickly forward and sent him a look that clearly told him to keep his mouth shut. The barman couldn't resist muttering under his breath, but he turned away all the same. Hotch put an arm around you and steered you back towards your brother before you could cause anymore trouble.

"How many drinks did you have tonight?" he asked. He'd indulged himself, of course, but, as always, had been the one to drink the least, if solely for the reason to keep an eye on everyone else.

You rolled your eyes. "Did you hear that jackass? Why do people insult him all the time, huh? Just because they're not as smart as him." With that, you pushed Hotch's arm away.

"Hehey, there's our birthday and graduation queen!" Derek cheered.

You ignored him, making a beeline for Spencer. "Hey, Spence," you said when you reached him, "what was that you were saying about cenosilliacaphobia?”

Spencer lit up. “You pronounced it right! What do you wanna know? Because personally I think it’s pretty interesting how you can go on to add the Latin word for beer—'cervisia'. In that case, you’ll have cenocervasiasillicaphobia, which is the fear of having an empty glass of beer!”

"That is so cool."

Hotch rejoined the group with a smile. One thing was for certain. A big brother would forever be protective of his little sister in the open, but behind closed doors, it was most certainly the opposite.

Criminal Minds Masterpost

#criminal minds #Spencer Reid #Aaron hotchner #hotch #hotch x reader #Spencer x reader #Spencer Reid x reader #reader #reader fic #sister!reader #sister reader #Reid #Reid x reader #mine

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atinystraynstay · 5 months

Text

When Are You Coming Home - Choi Seungcheol

Inspired by: Home - Catie Turner

Synopsis: You met Seungcheol while you were studying abroad in Seoul. It was a meeting by fate. Now, he was watching you live your life on the other side of the world. Would he ever get to see you again? Would he ever get to confess how he feels?

Pairing: Idol! Choi Seungcheol x reader

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

Word Count: 2.6k

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It was 8:44pm Seungcheol sighed as he watched his members Weverse posts. It's been killing him that he hasn't been able to join the group, as he was still recovering from ACL surgery a few months ago. He was starting to regain his strength which was making him feel more like himself. The problem was that the company wasn't fully confident he was ready to give it his all, so they were proceeding on the side of caution.

The boys had just wrapped up their dome concerts in Japan. Truly, those concerts were some of Cheol's favorites. He loved them not just for the carats that always showed up in massive numbers for them. Those concerts were more a testament to how far they've come as a group. He was proud of not only himself but his 12 members, his brothers, who have overcome doubt from the industry. They truly were the biggest name in K-pop at the moment.

That's why it pained him not to be there with him, not being a part of the schedules and activities. He was able to attend some events in person, like Inkigayo or Music Bank. He was able to attend backstage, but his true place was right on that stage beside everyone.

He pushed himself hard through his recovery, hoping to bounce back sooner rather than later. His doctors urged him to take it easy and to consider his long-term health rather than getting immediate results.

Truly, the toughest part of this whole recovery period was not having you beside him. You were attending graduate school in the United States, working towards your masters degree in education. He thought that maybe if he got healthier and stronger sooner, not only could he rejoin his group but he could actually come out to visit you in the States.

You were his best friend. You met at the same bar in Seoul when you were visiting during your study abroad trip. He was out with friends, celebrating the end of a hectic schedule. You were with friends from the program, eager to experience what nightlife was like in Korea after seeing one too many TikToks. Seungcheol never knew that someone could mean that much to him in such a short amount of time.

You were only going to be in Seoul from January until early May. He made it his mission to see you as much as possible. You two used to spend every day together, at least until comeback season came around for FML. Leading up to the anticipated album release, you would wait for him, excited, with a bottle of water to keep him hydrated. His favorite memory was when you got to watch him during Caratland, when he got to have the time of his life with his fans and his members. The reason why he kept grinning as hard as he did was because he knew you were waiting for him backstage.

Unfortunately, time seemed to slip away too quickly for Seungcheol's liking. During your last week in Seoul, he was asked to be at every meeting, every promotion, and everywhere but with you. He was lucky he got to see you the night before your flight, but it still tore him up inside that he couldn't even take you to the airport because he had to be at a dress rehearsal.

In that short amount of time, Seungcheol fell hard for you. You intrigued him in ways he never thought someone could. You brought a level of normalcy into his life that he didn't know he was missing. You were there to help him calm down after a tough dance practice. You often would cook dishes from your hometown, to give him an insight into where you come from. He wanted to know more about your world.

Why did he wait so long to confess to you? Now, seeing as you are more than 6,600 miles away from him, he regretted it every day. Sure, he could easily tell you over the phone or slide in your DMs, but you deserved better than that in his eyes.

Before his injury, he had hoped to come visit you right before the school year started. He got to experience the United States last summer with his members when they were on the Be The Sun tour. This time though, he wanted to experience what America was like with you. He wanted to do all the cliche romantic things like drive-ins, going to diners, and baseball games. He wanted to create memories with you, to be with you. He wanted you to be his.

The two of you still maintained contact. You would have FaceTime calls when you got the chance, would send postcards and little gifts to one another, and would cheer each other one from afar. Whether it was you waking up at 4:30am to catch a live concert or if he was reading one of your research papers - you were a united force.

He was hoping he would have been able to called you tonight, but you had told him that you had gotten busy with final assignments. While he hasn't been in school for a while, he knows how important school is for you. He didn't want to come across as overbearing, so he just waited patiently. He would watch your stories on Instagram and Snapchat, seeing you at a coffee shop or out with friends. He wanted so badly to be there with you.

He was scrolling through social media. It brought a smile to his face to see you had gone home for Thanksgiving, a holiday he was able to recognize easily as it was similar to Chuseok. There was a photo of you in a white turtle neck. Your hair was down in natural curls with light makeup on. He could see the mole that is planted on the right side of your face, close to your jawline. You were breathtaking. You were sitting beside your mom, someone who almost was an exact copy of you. There is no denying you two are related.

He knew family was important to you, so getting to spend time with your parents meant the world to you. He wondered if he was of the same importance to you, or if he could eventually get to that spot.

He looked through the other photos you posted. Some were with friends who still lived in your hometown. He tried his best to remember their names without looking at their Instagram handles. He remembers you mentioned them quite a few times. You were an only child, so you had a tendency to consider your friends part of your family too. He saw other photos of your hometown, wondering if he would ever get the opportunity to visit it up close.

What he took away the most from your post was how happy you looked. In all the photos, you were smiling wide to the point your eyes were hidden. Seungcheol remembers the few times you guys took photos together. You hated the way you looked, but he was obsessed with you. He never met someone who just naturally glowed. You were his own little disco ball, full of energy and wonder. He couldn't help but claim responsibility for making you that happy in those moments.

Seungcheol often wondered if you were happy back home. When he wasn't able to be there physically, he often wondered if you were happy. At least when you were here in Seoul, living in the same city, he could better fix whatever may be troubling you. He hated feeling helpless when you were upset. Especially now, it was more difficult than ever for him to just jump on a plane to you.

A knock at the door interrupted his deep thought. He raised an eyebrow, trying to go through who it could possibly be. All the boys were just now flying back from Tokyo. Could it be someone from the company? Why didn't they just call?

Thankfully, Seungcheol had reached the point of his recovery where he wasn't dependent on crutches. He could move freely. It might've been slow movements at times, but it was still moving at his own regard without the dependency of other people.

He made his way over carefully, not wanting to accidentally trip or bump into something. He was not about to jeopardize a setback when he was so close to getting back to where he was a few months ago.

Once he got to the door, he twisted the silver lock and undid the bolt. Making sure he had enough room, he stepped back to allow the door to swing open without it hitting his knee. He was just a more cautious guy until he got the green light to get back on stage. Seungcheol had his gaze to the door, watching it open so if he had to move, he could do so without straining himself.

"Are you crazy?" A voice shouted at him.

His eyes widened at the abrupt voice before looking up. There was no way.

There you stood. You had a pink backpack on your shoulders. Your hair was pulled into a loose ponytail held back by a silk white scrunchie. You had on a red hoodie with black leggings, and tennis shoes hugging your feet. "Y/n? What are you doing here?" "Would you like to tell me why Jeonghan called me saying you were overworking yourself? Do I need to remind you that you just had knee surgery about two months ago?"

You slipped the straps of your backpack off your shoulders. Seungcheol watched as you stepped towards his apartment, setting your backpack down by the threshold of the door. Your arms soon wrapped around Seungcheol, gently hugging him. His arms wrapped around you slowly, being in a bit of a shock of you actually being here in front of him.

"You have to take care of yourself, Cheol. Especially when I'm not here to help you," you whispered. You had tucked your head into his neck. He was able to get a smell of your shampoo, instantly settling his racing heart. God, he missed your scent. He squeezed you gently, almost as if he needed confirmation that this was reality and not some false, cruel illusion.

"I didn't mean to scare you, sweetheart. There was no need for you to fly all the way out here. What about your family? Your final assignments?" "You are a part of my life, Cheol. I had to be here. And my assignments can wait. Now, come on, old man. Let's get you back to the couch."

Coming from the guys, if they teased about his age, he would have been annoyed. Coming from you though was a sense of endearment.

Seungcheol followed your lead back to his couch. He got himself situated where he could rest with his leg up on the couch, alleviating some of the discomfort he felt from walking. He had his moments of weakness, but he wasn't sure if it was weakness from still recovering or from being in front of you for the first time in over 6 months.

Once he was situated on the couch, he saw you sitting on the opposite side of the couch. Your eyes were on him though. It was a sight that brought a smile to his face, a genuine smile for the first time probably since the surgery.

"So are you really just here because Jeonghan called?" "Well yes and no. Yes because I wanted to make sure you were ok. I know we FaceTime and you keep me updated as much as possible, but I just had to see for myself that you were ok."

He took note of the light blush on her cheeks. So she has been thinking of me? She's been worried about me? Cute. His ego was rising just at the sheer idea of you being into him, even in the slightest.

"No because I was planing to come visit you for the holidays. I get a month off of my studies, and realized that if I was spending Thanksgiving with my family, I want to spend it with you."

Well damn. He never would have predicted this.

"So you like me or something?" Seungcheol teased you.

This time, your cheeks turned a deeper red. It was then his eyes widened again. "Oh," he said silently. There was no need to further interrogate you on the matter.

Seungcheol eaned forward to gently grasp your wrist. You looked at him, an eyebrow raised. He gently tugged you towards him. You looked hesitant as if you were going to be hurting him. He offered you a reassuring smile. You began guiding herself closer to him until he situated you in between his left side and the back of the couch. He wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you close to him.

"Something tells me Jeonghan just didn't call because of my recovery," Cheol chuckled lightly under his breath.

Man, was Seungcheol lucky to have a best friend like Jeonghan. He owed him. Big time. You looked up at Seungcheol, a gentle smile on your lips but your eyebrow raised. Do she even know how cute she is?

"Since you left, y/n, I've been miserable. The few months you were here were just magical. It was like I was getting a chance to star in my own romance movie. Life hasn't been the same without you here." "And it doesn't help that we haven't really been able to visit each other, right?"

His smile grew slightly. He lowered his head so his face was hovering just above yours. If only he had gotten the courage to do this a few months ago then the last couple of months wouldn't have been full of torment.

"Because I didn't tell you how I felt about you before you left. Y/n, I really like you. I wanted to tell you so badly, but I held back. I need you in my life not just as a friend."

Hearing him, you could have thought you weren't actually in his apartment or in Seoul, for that matter. You were convinced you were asleep in your own apartment, having the best dream but about to wake up to a cruel reality. You moved your left arm over his torso, left hand extended to cup his face. Touching his skin, feeling the light stubble underneath your fingertips confirmed that this was reality.

"Jeonghan called because you liked me? And that you've been struggling since I've been gone?" You whispered. "Seems like Jeonghan took it upon himself to play cupid," Seungcheol laughed lightly, biting his lip though to try not to speak too loudly.

It was as if he spoke too loudly, he himself would wake up. But much like you had to, he needed a confirmation that this wasn't just a dream.

He guided his lips down towards yours but hovered over them. He was afraid of moving too quickly. It was a common thee in his life at the present moment. "Say the word, y/n, and I'll make both of our dreams come true."

All you could bring yourself to do was nod. However, Seungcheol needed more. He needed to know that you fully wanted this to happen as much as you did. The words were just trapped in your throat because you couldn't believe that you had flown all the way to Korea for the man of your dreams for him not just to be in your dreams. He was real. He was laying beside you, staring and waiting for your own greenlight.

"Yes, Cheol. Please. It's all I've been waiting for."

There it is. The green light. "Me too, princess," he whispered. He soon leaned I all the way, allowing his lips to press against yours without hesitation or worry. It was a kiss that sealed our destiny, your fate to be together without further interruptions or obstacles.

You were all his, and he was all yours. Officially.

#atinystraynstay #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol fanfic #choi seungcheol #scoups #seventeen right here #seventeen #svt #god of music

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mafiadad5 · 3 months

Text

Masterlist and rules

Hiii! I’m 18 and I write for nct🩷

18+ blog, I only write for nct but I do write for all units (except new team) feel free to request, but I may get to them a bit late 🎀. sometimes I feel uncomfortable about writing for certain members or topics… please understand and don’t be rude.

Please dont plagiarize my work, if you really need help literally dm me, but it’s not cool to steal😭… ©mafiadad5

Thank you so much and feel free to leave comments and my dms are open!

Mark

• Friends with benefits

(Second person pov)

(First person pov)

you walk in on your roommate and long time friend doing something… a small argument about it turns into something else

Imagine

“I saw this tweet that was like mark would be the type to say dude romantically and i can’t stop thinking about it 😣😩!”

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Haechan

• Drunken thoughts

(Second person pov)

“You and your friend group decides to play a new and risky drinking game, but it only becomes risky for you and Haechan. “

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Renjun

• self control

(Second person pov)

your roommate is fed up with how you dress around the apartment and asks you to stop, but you’re fed up with him acting like he doesn’t like it so you finally confront him.

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Chenle

• Try, try not to think about us in that way.

(Second person pov)

(First person pov)

You and Chenle has been friends for years now, since freshman year of Highschool, you finally graduate and go on a summer trip that you guys have been fantasizing to go on since sophomore year. You've always had a crush on him, but stopped trying after he rejected you freshman year. Not wanting to ruin the friendship, you ignore your feelings. That's until you're standing at the beach…

• part 2

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Jisung

• imagine

(Second person pov)

“Omg can you maybe do like visiting jisung in the practice room for a quickie while the others are out #dontgetcaught!!”

• part 2

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Jeno

Nothing yet :(

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Jaemin

• White tee

(Second person pov)

(First person pov)

no summary, just read :)

• arguments

(Second person pov)

you and your bf got into an argument the night before, but you still have an attitude that he wants to knock out of you.

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Ten

• Can I be the one for you? (Part 1)

(Second person pov)

(First person pov)

Your boss seems to have a problem with you, and loves to tease you and make you work harder than the rest, that’s when you both get invited on a business trip that could change everything, literally. Are you gonna go on this business trip with him or not?

• one more night with you (part 2)

(First person)

it’s been years since everyone has split up from high school, but a knock on the door graduation day changes everything.

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Hendery

Nothing yet :(

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Yang Yang

blame it on the high.

(Second person pov)

you finally give into your stoner roommates habit and decide to smoke with him, the high makes you different you…

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Xiaojun

Nothing yet :(

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Win win

Nothing yet :(

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Kun

Nothing yet :(

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Johnny

Nothing yet :(

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Taeil

Nothing yet :(

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Yuta

Nothing yet :(

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Taeyong

Imagine

“Omg imagine sucking off taeyong backstage right before a show 😭😫”

• Just for the night.

(Second person pov)

(First person pov)

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Jungwoo

Nothing yet :(

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Jaehyun

• Kalopsia

I went back to my college town, my dad worried about me and my safety makes sure to load me with a bodyguard to be safe, little do I know it turns into a whole web of secrets, lies, and history that shouldn’t have been dug up.

(First person pov)

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Doyoung

• Kalopsia

(First person pov)

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Nct dream ot7

• Imagine

(Second person pov)

(First person pov)

“hii i don't know if you're accepting requests, but could you do nct dream reaction to you still being horny and wanting more rounds, even tho you just had sex and they're exhausted 🫠”

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Wayv ot6

Nothing yet :( (please request omg)

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Nct 127 ot9

Nothing yet :(

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the-au-thor · 2 months

Text

A la Velocidad de la Luz (at the Speed of light) | Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Hello! I just wrote something for my Steve Harrington people out there. I hope you like it

TW: read this!

word count: 9.1k

Synopsis: They're friends, they're not idiots, and yes, they're falling in love. Let's dive a little bit into the friendship between this two and get to know Steve's love language

It's not like I got inspiration in this song by Los Bunkers and you should totally listen to it

Part 2

Steve had totally recognized the symptoms the minute he saw you that Friday Movie night.

After the gnarly events you've all been through, it was obvious you have formed a bond, a bond that would bring together the fancy house on the fancy side of town with the humble trailer in the trailer park on the wrong side of the tracks. A bond that would unite ages, circumstances, and tastes without discrimination, gathering a group of people religiously every Friday to eat popcorn and watch some horror movie. Then you'd all crash for the night because for some reason, nobody wanted to split up or be apart from each other. You needed each other to keep on living, and it wasn't something you would readily admit to in unison. It was more like a tacit agreement, and everyone was perfectly okay with it. The ongoing practice of cohabitation had made Steve more perceptive, somehow discovering that he enjoyed taking care of others, and griping about it was just part of a ritual where Dustin would have to go somewhere while pretending that Steve and only Steve could take him, and then, after grumbling, repeating that he wasn't his babysitter and whining, he'd grab his keys and take him wherever the kid desperately wanted to be. He could predict stomachaches when the kids stuffed themselves with sweets and be there with antispasmodic drops and chicken soup. He could also intervene in a bar fight at The Hideout just in time to prevent them from ruining the night when Corroded Coffin was playing and to keep them from calling Hopper for no reason. He had been there for Robin, Nancy, Argyle, and even Jonathan and each of the kids. Maybe that's why Hopper had suggested the Police Academy. Maybe that's why he felt like all of you were largely the reason he wasn't that lost kid with a terrible social life anymore and didn't know what to do with his life. You glanced at him with a half-smile right in the middle of the break to hit the bathroom that Nancy had instituted after Dustin suffered a urinary tract infection because he preferred to hold it in rather than miss out on Freddie's massacres.

"What's up?" you asked, popping a handful of popcorn into your mouth as you looked at him straight on.

Steve didn't know you much before the catastrophic events in Hawkins brought you together. You were buds with Robin at school, worked alongside Nancy on the school paper, but you said you never had the same reporter spirit as Nance; you just liked to write, and you thought being a member of the school paper would look dope on your resume once you applied to college. There was a time when you and he bumped into each other at some parties because Vicki's twin brother, Justin Carmichael, was trying to convince you to go out with him. He remembered that afterward, Justin had been complaining for a week because you hadn't even had the decency to let him get to first base at the best party in school. Inside, Steven was relieved it turned out that way; Justin Carmichael was a big asshole. Just as much of an asshole as he used to be back then. After you graduated, you both ran into each other when he was at Scoops Ahoy and you visited Robin at the ice cream shop, that time Hawkins was in danger -AGAIN-, and they barely even counted it -AGAIN-. You were going to Indiana University during the week, and you'd come back on weekends because unlike Steve, your parents were loving people who loved having you around and were genuinely interested in what you liked, explaining your concerned and always open personality. Steve didn't find it odd, anyway, not to have noticed you before you just abruptly entered his life as you did. The Steve from the past wouldn't have noticed someone like you because he was a selfish jerk; he'd proven it with Nancy, and he had to suffer a lot before he could prove to himself that he was much more than what his parents and old friends expected of him.

"Are you okay?" he asked then, listening to Lucas and Max's whispering kisses on one of the back couches.

Robin was making more popcorn in the microwave while Nancy filled her in on her long-distance relationship with Jonathan back when he was still living in California and how Robin could make it work as well with Vickie. Steve always knew they could handle the distance; it was just something Nancy and Jonathan would be able to make work. Dustin had gone to the bathroom, obviously, while Will mocked the silly argument Mike and Eleven were having, which was occasionally interrupted by Eddie to make a comment that would serve as an argumentative catapult to fuel the little dispute.

Your eyes stopped at Steve's in silence, and finally, you nodded.

"Sure," you replied. "Finally, vacation; I missed not having to pack my bags every weekend," you murmured with a smile, "and I'll be able to take a break from Professor Lewis's lectures."

Steve grimaced. "Is he still making it tough on you?"

You nodded. "Until the very last second of class, I really don't know how I'm going to survive this year if he keeps up with his hate campaign, I don't know what I did to him."

Steve frowned.

"There are people like that, you know? Bitter. Maybe he's jealous because you're so talented," Steve saw you scrunch your nose and let out a snort of laughter.

"He's a writer for The Times, jealous?" Steve shrugged.

"Maybe he sees in you something he can never be," he explained easily, "it's not uncommon for adults to project onto younger ones and make them pay for it."

Again, you studied him in silence. You took another popcorn into your mouth just before speaking. "And how's your dad taking you being the first one in the academy?" you asked.

Steve let out a small snort.

"Oh, he's thrilled. Especially because Hopper seemed to be his nemesis in school when they both belonged to the same basketball team," Steve drank from his Coca-Cola can, taking two big swigs big enough to make his mouth no longer feel dry.

You smirked ironically. "Ah, well, speaking of adults projecting…"

Steve nodded, watching you rummage in your purse for your pills. He remembers the first time he saw you show them to everyone, explaining what they were; it was right after closing the portal once and for all. The government had put them up in fancy hotel rooms while you all took care of cleaning up Hawkins and the reputation Eddie had gained because of the serial killer they hadn't managed to subdue in the first place. You were safe; everything was finally okay. There wouldn't be any more interdimensional creatures flying, running, crawling, or floating around there thinking they could eat, scratch, possess, or kill whoever they encountered, but even when you knew it, you couldn't sleep.You have been there, ordering the most expensive food from the hotel and playing video games nonstop for twenty-four hours. For you, it really hit the limit when you saw Eddie spend three straight hours curled up in the fetal position on his bed without really sleeping. Steve saw you get up, turn off the kids' TV, and take the pasta tray away from Argyle. The kids didn't even have the energy to protest. You stood in the middle of the room in your hotel robe with weariness in your eyes.

"So,” you finally said, taking a bottle of medicine out of your purse. "I'm going to do something I shouldn't do, and you must promise not to tell your parents. And yes," you looked at Erica threateningly, "I'm specifically talking to you," you said and then began handing out a small white capsule to each of the kids except Erica, to whom you gave a bigger one, explaining that you wouldn't give her anything other than melatonin.

Dustin sniffed the pill and then looked at you curiously.

"And what's this?"

You glanced at Robin out of the corner of your eye and then at the rest.

"My sleeping pills. They're gentle, but I need them to sleep, which you haven't done for a long time, and you can't just keep ignoring that you can't fall asleep. So this is the deal; we're going to ignore the fact that I'm breaking the law with this, and everyone will take a dose, it's small. I won't tell you what it is, but definitely don't be alarmed if you taste a bitter flavor in your mouth," you explained gently. "And you must commit; everyone will go to the therapist as soon as we leave here because what happened isn't normal, and you need help."

Eddie accepted the deal without thinking, sat on the bed, and swallowed the capsule without a second thought. After that, he opened his bedclothes and wished everyone good night. You watched the kids take the pills after promising to go to therapy. Steve remembers helping you and Robin turn off the lights and dim the night lamps as you watched everyone settle into whatever corner of the room they could claim and cover themselves with blankets to try to sleep.

"I didn't know you needed those sleeping pills," Steve piped up in the dark when the snores kicked in. Robin was out cold smack dab in the middle of us, snoring up a storm, her face finally looking peaceful and carefree.

Steve had seen the danger lurking in your eyes before, the fear, the terror, the concern, but that night was the first time he caught a glimpse of this new emotion; it was like an internal retreat to pain being reflected in your irises. For a moment, you diverted your gaze, avoiding Steve's, before nodding.

"I started having panic attacks at fifteen. Got diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder," you confessed. "Had too many sleepless nights, screwed up my school game, messed with my emotions and reactions," you whispered matter-of-factly, but Steve could sense there was a lot of pain behind those words. "It was rough at first, but trust me, with supportive peeps and solid therapy, it's worth it. And these pills? They're tame compared to what I had to down initially. Missed two weeks of school and just slept” you nodded, letting out a stifled yawn, and Steve couldn't resist but follow suit as fatigue weighed heavily on his eyelids.

"Thanks for letting me in on that. You're tough, you know?" he responded, his words already starting to slur with sleepiness.

Your arm slinked over Robin, and your hand found its way to Steve's arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Night, Steve," you murmured softly before drifting off into slumber.

You only needed one pill back then.

"Two?" Steve asked, furrowing his brow as he watched you down both capsules quickly, chasing them with a gulp of water as he nodded.

"Yeah, been having some trouble with the meds," you explained with a shrug. "Now that I'm free,I'm gonna see the doc and see how it goes."

Steve's expression clouded with worry. "Want some company?"

You took another sip of water, already formulating a quick response in your mind. "And have you wait around for an hour while my psychiatrist has me spillin' my guts in his office? Thanks, but I won't do that to ya."

"It wouldn't be a bother," Steve settled back on the couch, eyeing you. "But the offer's there."

You smiled, genuine gratitude shining through. "Thanks."

You and Steve watched Eddie make his way towards the TV as Dustin settled in next to Steve. Will nestled back on the floor, leaning against your legs as he always did. Steve had noticed, subtly since you and he met, that you two had formed a bond. Sometimes he caught glimpses of you two in your car, sharing ice cream and jamming out to tunes. When no one was looking, or so you thought, Will would lean towards you, and you'd start braiding his hair with a smile. Steve wondered if Will might have a bit of a crush on you, and you just didn't realize what was brewing there. Maybe he should chat with you about it; he wasn't sure if letting the kid catch feelings was good for him. The lights dimmed once more, the movie rolling on, and Eddie plopped down between you and Steve. Eddie shot his friend a sly look, knowing Steve was perfectly comfy where he was before. Steve rolled his eyes at Eddie and decided it was best to focus on the movie, but even in the tensest moments, he couldn't help but cast concerned glances at you; you'd taken your sleeping pills, yet you didn't seem to be yawning or preparing to nod off on Eddie's shoulder or curl up in the corner of the couch.

The next morning, you were the first one up, showered and clad in your athletic shorts, oversized Clash T-shirt as you whipped up breakfast for the sleepyheads still sprawled and tangled on the couch and rug, snoring away. Nancy was the second to join you, followed by Robin and Argyle. Steve then roused himself, greeting the ones awake, and headed to his room to grab a quick shower before joining them. While Nancy whipped up waffles, you manned the eggs, so Steve filled the coffee maker with his old man's favorite brew, which he never touched because he was hardly ever home.

"Wouldn't it be better if they woke up?" Nancy queried. "I mean, they were the ones hellbent on going to the lake for a swim."

Argyle snagged a piece of crispy bacon and started munching on it. "Sis, it's vacay, you can't go all dictator on 'em. When they're ready, they'll wake up."

Nancy snorted but didn't argue with his logic; instead, she piled the waffles onto a plate and leaned against Steve's kitchen island, eyeing you.

"You doin' alright?" she inquired.

You had been quiet, focused on the eggs as you stared into the pan with a distant gaze. You nodded, flipping the eggs before cutting the heat. You turned to Nancy with a smile.

"I'm good," you replied. "You been dealing with school drama?" you asked, catching Nancy's eye roll.

"I swear, if I get stuck with one more group of knuckleheads for a project, I'm gonna lose it," Nancy grumbled under her breath, eliciting a chuckle from Eddie, lounging between the cushions.

"Come on, Wheeler," he laughed. "We've worked together, and it's been smooth sailing, what could be worse?"

Robin sauntered over, tossing her threadbare cardigan—ridden with holes courtesy of Eddie's antics, claiming it looked "metal." It landed over Eddie's face and Robin shot him a look with arched eyebrows.

"You got no modesty, Munson?"

Steve chuckled as he poured coffee into a couple of mugs.

"Yeah, man, what's with the strip show in the dead of night?"

Eddie struggled to dress until he finally managed to awkwardly clamber up from the couch.

"Well, next time, you get to share a couch on a sweltering summer night with Henderson, what’ya think, pretty boy?" he griped before shooting Dustin a glare, who was still sound asleep with his mouth agape. Eddie tossed a blanket at him with force. "Wake up!"

Dustin startled awake, only easing when he saw everyone was fine and the worst thing that happened was a slobber stain on one of the sofa cushions in Steve's parents’ living room. He shuffled over to the couch, snagging the marked cushion and grimacing at it. Steve’s brows furrowed, mouth twisted in a disgusted grimace.

"Dude, this couch is worth a fortune. My mom's gonna flip when she sees this," he protested, lobbing the pillow back at Dustin, who was unapologetic about the incident, even wearing a smug smile, if anything.

Steve's house was a flurry of activity for the next few minutes; utensils clinked against dishes, and Steve’s parent will definitely notice those scratches Eddie left behind from trying to cut the bacon on his plate. You washed up everything each one of you used because, according to Nancy, it was better to leave everything clean, or else no one would have the energy to do it later. Robin, Steve, and you followed her orders because they weren't about to argue with someone like Nancy Wheeler. Argyle, Eddie, and Jonathan dried everything off and stowed it away while the kids geared up for an afternoon at the lake. When you arrived, you settled into lounge chairs and giant towels while most of the kids bolted for the water. Steve watched as you made the rounds, armed with a bottle of sunscreen, making sure everyone got slathered up on their backs, arms, faces, and shoulders, even though Mike protested about his fair, skinny skin. The rest splashed around for a while, indulged in ice creams, and even had a few impromptu swimming races where Steve had to fake a cramp so Dustin could finally win. Steve didn't realize, but you noticed, and you observed the little event with an amused grin. Steve wasn't the type to talk about feelings in front of a crowd out of the blue; that was more Eddie's style. He wouldn't stand in the middle of a bonfire and pour his heart out, declaring his undying love for everyone, but he had to admit moments like these made him feel damn happy. He'd always been a lone wolf trying desperately not to fit in but he never realized it was an issue until he met all of you, and it was something he could dig while the sun was still shining big and warm near the horizon. The kids were splashing around in the water with Robin, Eddie, and Argyle. Jonathan and Nancy were chilling a bit further away, exchanging kisses and small talk. You gave Will a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then playfully messed up his hair, making him laugh and shove you back. After that, you splashed water in his face before swimming off towards the lake shore. When your feet hit the stones, you strolled over to the stretched-out towel next to Steve with a smile and threw yourself onto it to soak up the sun. Steve looked as you adjusted your hair to the side, watching the little drops dance across your skin before disappearing or evaporating. Quietly, you quickly cracked open one of the books you always have with you, diving into its pages. He saw your fingers flick across the pages and your tongue peek out between your lips in concentration. He half-smiled and settled onto his towel, soaking in the warmth of the sun with a relaxed sigh.

"Can you imagine a dude with a freaky sense of smell going all psycho and killing a bunch of virgin girls to get their essence?" you broke the silence without taking your eyes off your book.

Steve arched a brow, somewhat amused. "Nah, I mean, we've seen worse stuff to not picture a human killing others," he replied sarcastically, earning a small, amused chuckle from you.

"Fair point," you replied, licking your finger to turn the page.

Steve cleared his throat, shifting on his towel, and turned to you, feeling a bit uneasy. "Hey, I think you should watch out for Will."

That made you glance up from your book, peering at him over your shades. Steve could sense the intensity of your gaze even though he couldn't see your eyes directly.

"Why? Has he been sniffing around and plotting murders?" Steve furrowed his brow.

"What? No! What are you talking about?" he asked, bewildered.

You left the book resting on your stomach to give him your full attention.

"Oh, it's just that we were chatting about the book, and then you brought up Will… but never mind, explaining a joke is lame, right?" you laughed, then sighed, suddenly feeling awkward. "What's up with Will?"

Steve scratched the back of his neck, trying to respond tactfully. Internally, he regretted starting that conversation without thinking it through first.

"I dunno. I just think maybe he's catching feelings for you… and it's not your fault, you're just nice to him," he cut himself off, trying to clarify his point, "…it's just that he might be getting the wrong idea…"

You lowered your shades a tad to meet his gaze directly.

"So, you're saying Will Byers might have a little crush on me?" you asked with a measured tone, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

Steve squirmed, shoulders shifting as he scratched his nose, eyes darting away from yours.

"It's possible," was his only response. "I mean, it's not the first kid who has a crush on an older girl, y'know?" Older girl. You gave him a calm smile, picking your book back up to resume reading.

"Will doesn't have a crush, Steve. At least, not on me; trust me, I'd know," you reassured him gently, giving Steve one last look. "Seriously."

Steve didn't know, but you understood his concern all too well. There was a reason why you and Will were so close, and why your bond had grown stronger lately, and it had as much to do with Will's feelings as it didn't. It wasn't something you could explain too much; it was something that belonged to Will, not to you. You'd noticed a change in Will for a few months now, even before they moved to California, but you weren't close friends; you'd only tutored the kid a couple of times, and that wasn't enough to butt into his life. When the Byers returned to town, Will was even quieter, more withdrawn, even when he was with the whole crew. You couldn't help but worry, especially on the day Joyce came to you, asking for an hour of your weekends to help Will with his English essays; he was starting to get more and more distracted, Joyce's super-mom side wanted to step in, but her more rational side said to give him time to readjust. That talk had you worried all week until Saturday came and you saw for yourself the kind of distraction in Will's gaze. He wasn't just somewhere else, far from the room where you both tried to finish the essay the teacher had assigned to help him get his English back on track; no, he was deep inside himself, locked in some cell with the door wide open, but he was too comfortable and scared of the world outside to step out. You remember spotting an old school project he made in California, hidden away and dusty under a pile of canvases with sketches of massive dragons and knights in armor. The project was about Alan Turing; the dedication in that work caught your eye, and you dusted it off to showcase its potential. When you slid it in front of him, you told him that's the Will you wanted to see at school; you saw his eyes well up with tears, and you knew something else was weighing on him. Then you set aside the task, sat beside him, and took his hands. You promised to keep anything he told you discreet, then he started speaking. You'd never heard Will talk so much, and you were shocked as you listened to every word, how well he'd hidden his turmoil, and the loneliness creeping in. He was just a kid and he was facing his first heartbreak, and worse; you couldn't promise it'd be his last, he had it rough, and his road ahead would be bumpy. Since that day, you'd made sure to be there for whatever he needed, even planning a trip to the MET together to get him hyped about art. You were the baby sister in your family, you had three older brothers and you never knew what it was like to look out for someone else until you met the boys, and it brought you joy to make sure everyone was alright, especially making sure Will had a good summer with his friends and that his heart would heal, with hopes that a good boy would come along someday to help him pick up the pieces and mend all the crap he might face.

It was pretty late when they decided to head home. They dropped the kids off at the Wheelers', where they'd be crashing for a sleepover. Eddie invited you all to catch one of his Corroded Coffin rehearsals at the Hideout, and you were about to accept along with Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle, and Robin, but Steve put his hand on your shoulder with a grin and said you had plans. For a sec, you looked at him confused, but a gentle squeeze on your side from him convinced you to play along. They bid the kids farewell outside the joint, and you climbed into Steve's car, curious. You saw him wait for both of you to buckle up before asking what he had planned.

"I thought we could do something, just you and me."

A date? You wondered innocently, Steve Harrington and you hanging out without the rest? You could only think of one time you'd decided to do something together. Once, you brought cookies to the Academy; he'd aced all his workouts, but his parents didn't even bother to pat him on the back. You and the rest planned a party for him to celebrate, but you wanted to do something special because you were hella proud. You baked his fave cookies (crunchy with cinnamon, caramel, and peanuts) and met him at lunchtime; apparently, they were just showering because his hair was still a bit wet at the ends. He was rocking shorts and a tank top, sweat glistening on his skin, cheeks flushed from exertion. He had a lil' towel draped 'round his neck as he dabbed his forehead. You were waiting for him in the lobby, standing up with a grin plastered on your face. You remember your cheeks hurting like hell, the slight ache nagging at you that night when intrusive thoughts came knocking uninvited, making you wonder if you looked like a loon.

"What's this?" Steve asked with a half-smile and a curious look as you held out a box.

"Congrats for passing your test," you replied, watching as Steve's expression shifted, a mix of sadness and gratitude, then he hugged you out of nowhere. You and him hugged before, especially after some close call that put their lives at risk, but this hug was different, more intimate. He rested his chin on your shoulder, rubbing your back tenderly. You heard him sigh softly, murmuring his thanks. After you and Steve pulled apart, you still on your toes and he with his hands on your shoulders, your eyes locked for a moment, and you felt like something was left unsaid, but it happened so fast you didn't have time to question it. You never talked about it again. You hadn't swung by the academy again, even though you had more than one reason to. For some reason, you felt like you needed to guard yourself, so you'd avoided being alone with Steve or making excuses to see him without the kids around. When you arrived at his house , you felt something strange stirring inside you. Maybe Steve caught your furrowed brow or your hesitation to step out of his ride and cautiously scoped out the entrance, because he walked over to your door and popped it open with a smile that somehow put you at ease.

"I gotta show you something inside," he announced, extending his hand toward you, offering it up for your trust.

You half-smiled, unsure how to react. You didn't know whether to feel pure curiosity or straight-up unease. You took his hand and follow him to the entrance. He didn't let go; he held onto your hand and occasionally traced circles on your palm, as if he knew exactly how to calm your jitters.

Inside the house, it looked just as you left it, except for some cushions outta place on Steve's parents fancy sofa. Steve kept his steps leading you upstairs. As you ascended, you checked out the family pics Steve's mom had hung on the wall. One was snapped in a studio with a basic blue backdrop adorned with clouds, featuring a smiling baby decked out in sailor threads. You smiled then; that baby was Steve. "Did you want siblings?"

As you hiked up the stairs in silence, Steve shot you a curious glance, and then nodded.

"Yeah, actually, but my folks shut down production very soon. My dad blames it on my mom, but we all know it's on him," he responded.

You made a face, recalling the one time you'd seen Steve's dad. He seemed distant, preferring it that way; he introduced himself as "Mr. Harrington," and you were pretty sure he'd adopted it as his first name. He seemed like the type to pin his own infertility on his wife.

"I always wanted little siblings" you murmured, lightly tracing your index finger over the wood. "Feels like I got them now."

"Yeah, some real pests," Steve grumbled, coming to a halt in front of a closed door, eyeing you.

You nervously smiled. I mean, with him looking at you like that, what were you supposed to do? You shrugged. "It ain't all bad," you murmured, eyes darting impatiently between the door and Steve's relaxed demeanor. You didn't see him like this often; he had that look that seemed to peer into your soul with those huge brown eyes. He slipped into the room, being all suspicious, and after a minute, he emerged, shutting the door behind him.

"I got somethin' for ya on the other side of this door," he said without giving you a chance to process how odd that might be because he knocked on the wooden surface and pushed it open, revealing the guest room of his enormous house. Inside, blackout curtains shielded the huge windows that overlooked the Harringtons' backyard.

You were struck by the scented candles and the distant sound of the sea emanating from some speakers by a massive, fluffy bed piled with cushions and pristine, crisply-stretched sheets. You looked at Steve with a mixture of confusion and fun.

"Could you at least invite me for a coffee first, Steve…?" you quipped, trying to dispel the slight unease creeping up your spine.

Steve half-smiled, giving a weak chuckle. "If I were goin' that route, I'd spring for somethin' a bit fancier than a brew; give me some credit," he played along, entering the room and picking up a neatly folded outfit from his hands. "No, babe; this is an intervention plan."

With your feet still lingering in the doorway, you arched an eyebrow, perplexed.

"Intervention for what?"

"Glad you asked," Steve said, handing you the folded clothes; the soft fabric of the pajama set brushed against your fingers as you wondered what all this was about. "I'll get the tub runnin'. My mon left this stash of bath salts that supposedly turn you into a new human; so, enjoy the bath, Slip into these PJs, then come down for dinner and after that, off to bed, and I don't wanna hear from you until at least tomorrow at noon ."

You frowned. "Steve; What…?" You shook your head quickly, trying to dispel the confusion as if by magic. "I don't get it."

Steve placed his hands on your shoulders, meeting your gaze squarely. "You haven't been getting proper sleep for months; you ain't fooling me. You said it's just sleep trouble, but I know it's deeper; you've been mega stressed, and when that happens, insomnia kicks in, panic attacks, negative vibes, and the urge to be completely alone. I've seen it; so let's try sidestepping that, and for that, I've whipped up a sleep bomb. I just need your cooperation, can I count on that?"

You studied him, trying to read him in return. You were surprised Steve had clocked your distress signals. You hadn't wanted to tip off anyone, not even your parents who'd been through it all before. You didn't want to put them through it; you didn't want to tell them that during your college days, when you weren't studying or dodging Mr. Lewis' attempts to fail you out of spite, all you could think about was returning to Hawkins; to be with them, your friends, your fam. You didn't want to confess that you'd revisited that dark place where you wondered, during those long, sleepless nights, how it would feel to just snooze forever and wake up when everything hurt less. Every so often, your mind dragged you there; you knew they were bouts triggered by high stress, and you knew they'd pass, but not knowing when or how long it'd last was another torture on your plate. You hadn't needed to voice your cries for help for Steve to come through was both surprising and scary. Surprising because you didn't think he'd notice; he was busy running the mansion his parents barely occupied, looking after the kids, and navigating the rigors of the academy while trying to fend off the hordes of newfound fans who were back to fawning over him. Would there even be room for you in his schedule? You knew you were friends, but honestly, you'd hung out more often with Nancy, Robin, and Eddie—shopping, hitting the movies, catching gigs—than with Steve on a single aimless stroll downtown. Among your friends, Steve was honestly the last person you'd figured would clock your silent pleas for help. And yet here he was, front and center; at some point, he'd carved out time to spruce up a whole room, light candles, have a bed that screamed comfort, and a silky PJ set just for you. It felt like your lungs swallowed all the air in the room, and oxygen only reached you for a fragile, feeble thank you that stumbled out haltingly. Steve seemed to appreciate that sliver of gratitude, and something in his eyes softened for a beat. He gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze before leaving you to run the taps, filling the tub with glorious hot water that soon had you melting into bliss and your muscles thanking the heat. You tilted your head back as your toes curled in delight. You were pretty sure the salts hadn't done much beyond a certain softness on your skin, but the pleasant aroma had managed to unwind you. When you decided it was time to get out, mainly because the water had cooled and your fingers were pruney, you dried off and slipped into the comfy satin Pijama, a lovely mahogany color that smelled of detergent and fabric softener.

It was pure bliss; that's what you thought as you descended the stairs and found the table set with iced tea, a salad, and two plates brimming with bolognese pasta.

Steve didn't know how to cook much else; his waffle game was weak, and his scrambled eggs were always overdone. But if there was one thing Steve Harrington could nail, it was a homemade pasta dish. You couldn't figure out why he'd never flexed that culinary muscle with his dates; you were sure by now Steve Harrington was off the market for a good long while. Part of you, a part you tried not to dwell on too much, wished that sliver of Steve that only you and the rest of the group knew would remain under wraps. Then you felt guilty for even wishing that; you knew Steve felt lonely and wanted to find someone, and as you twirled pasta onto your fork, you knew he deserved it, because the pasta was divine, and because he'd taken the time to make it himself.

You would've kept munching, but you knew it'd be greedy. Steve rose and led you to bed, rattling off a laundry list of reasons why you wouldn't be lifting a finger, starting with the fact that you were caught up in a smartly orchestrated intervention by him.

"What's up?" Steve asked as you settled under the covers of the bed and the reality hit you.

"Every night I give this a shot, Steve; trying to calm, close my eyes, and just sleep, and I really wanna now but I just can't…"

Steve rubbed his nose, nodding, plopping down beside you, all ears.

"Look at yourself," he murmured. "You're stressing about not being able to sleep, and that's why it ain't happening." You shook your head. "It's not that, really, Steve. It's just that I know myself; I know, and it's frustrating. You have no idea how many nights I've spent staring at the ceiling, feeling like my body just needs to move. It's practically physically impossible for me to lie in bed, no matter how comfy it is."

"Alright," Steve nodded thoughtfully. "I have an idea. Remember when we were keeping watch to make sure Vecna didn't snatch Max at the Wheeler's house?" You nodded. "Yeah, Dustin never shut up, and God knows I couldn't shut him up myself, so I just resigned myself to having to listen to his annoying voice for the rest of the night, and then boom! I woke up, and it was morning."

You raised your eyebrows, surprised. "You fell asleep on your watch to keep an eye on Max?"

"Hey, Henderson was still awake, and nothing went down, right?"

You opened your mouth, astonished. "Something could've gone down, Steve."

"But it didn't!" he retorted, letting out a sheepish laugh and trying to defend himself. "But that's not the point. The point is, I fell asleep," you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms while still sitting on the bed. Steve must've recognized that you looked adorable trying to scold him for his irresponsibility. "Listening to Dustin's voice, I slept like a baby all night."

You raised an eyebrow, finally getting it.

"Are you telling me that all this time, I've just needed Dustin's voice to sleep soundly?"

"No," he replied, pointing his finger at you with a victorious grin. "My voice, babe, my voice will make you sleep like a rock tonight." He then got up and gestured for you to lie down in bed. You looked at him, suppressing a laugh. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Look, now you find it funny, but when you wake up in the morning feeling rested, I'll have the decency not to tell you it was thanks to me."

You smiled, adjusting your hair to the sides.

"Oh, Steve, thank you so much, how considerate of you," you laughed, but the laughter was immediately stifled when you saw Steve start to settle down next to you in bed. He lay on his side and rested his head on his palm to look at you. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just gonna lie down next to you and talk to you. The only rule is that you can't speak; you'll close your eyes and listen to my voice."

Bossy.

You nodded silently and closed your eyes. You heard Steve sigh but didn't look at him again; after all, he had gone to all this trouble, so you would cooperate. You would do your part.

Then Steve began to talk. He spoke for at least an hour about his life, his folks, and what he wanted to do in the future when he graduated as a cop and started taking care of this town again, with Hopper as his boss. Damn it, it would be tough following the old man's orders, but he'd take it on. He didn't stop even when your intermittent breathing became a steady rhythm that could only mean you were finally catching some sleep. Steve didn't stop looking at you as he reached out to the speaker and lowered the volume of the ambient sound. He didn't stop even as the chirping of crickets seeped in from his backyard and formed a whispered melody along with the croaking of the frogs.

He couldn't stop looking at you.

Steve watched your eyelashes brush your cheeks. The air entering and exiting through your slightly parted lips as you breathed. He looked at your nose and traced imaginary lines on your face, following it with his gaze as if he were redrawing you. It wasn't fair that you couldn't rest, that it was so complicated for you. Steve had seen you sleep deeply in the most complicated places and under the most critical circumstances. You were perfect under pressure; something told him that you would prefer Vecna as an enemy than any internal demon that haunted your mind. He had seen more fear in your face when you thought that it would be another sleepless night than when one of the demodogs that attacked at Hopper's old cabin pinned you down with its weight and drooled over your face as if they were thinking about your taste even before taking a bite. Steve hit it right in the middle of its neck with his bat and didn't stop until Dustin told him it was more than dead, impaled against the wooden floor. He didn't know it then, but he would have killed any monster for you. Even the one that tormented you in your mind.

"Thank you," he finally spoke, stretching his other hand to caress your hair. "You've always taken care of us, and that's very little to say." He admitted, "I think you try to do it because you haven't managed to take care of yourself as you should." He whispered, removing a strand of hair that had floated over your face. "Relax; I'll do it."

You had made them all fulfill their promise in the hotel room that night with the sleeping pills. They had each been given a separate room, but trauma unifies, and they couldn't spend time apart; they all gathered in Eddie's room and spent hours together. After that, when things calmed down and they went through interviews with men dressed in black and serious looks, they went to a high-security clinic where Owen was waiting to give them a physical examination. None of the scars they had were completely healed; Eddie had to undergo skin grafts on his abdomen, and Max had to undergo rehabilitation to walk normally again.

"It's not enough," you had told Owen when he discharged them all with prescriptions for the best free medicine. The man raised his gaze from his folder to look at you through his glasses. "We need therapy."

"Kid…" Hopper spoke behind you with a tired voice, but you stopped him firmly.

"No," you turned to him and looked at Owen for a few seconds. "He smelled like a distillery even before the first attack of the first demogorgon," you reminded everyone. "How do you think he's going to be when all the adrenaline from this is gone? Hopper needs therapy. We all do. Max almost lost her sight; Eddie came back from the dead. You can't say everything is fine and send us back to a town where everyone will still judge us no matter what." Owen opened his mouth, but you weren't ready to stop talking. "You weren't there; you don't know what we had to go through. We don't even fully understand it ourselves; we literally avoided a dimensional catastrophe that wasn't our responsibility, Owen. They owe us."

The truth was, none of them except you thought therapy was a good idea. A monster had used their worst nightmares and traumas to get rid of them. They didn't want to have to open their hearts once a week to another stranger to take advantage of that. But you had been firm in making them all fulfill the commitment, and against all odds, they all agreed and completed their therapies as they should. Even Mike, who had shown extreme resistance to the heart-to-heart talk, had finally relented. You had won those kids over, Steve saw it. And he had to admit that was part of the reason why he sometimes felt jealous. It was pathetic to admit it; an adult jealous of children. But damn it; he would feel good if one day one of the hugs you gave to Will Byers was meant to be given to him.

"You are going to a lot of trouble for her," Dustin told him the next morning as he rudely chewed on a raspberry. "Hey! Little human vacuum: stop eating someone else's breakfast; this isn't for us." "You see? This is what I mean! I could be planning a new D&D campaign that would surprise Eddie and have him kissing my ass for the next decade, but here I am helping you surprise a girl." "It's not to surprise her; she finally slept more than eight hours and needs to eat," Steve began to respond as he poured some of Robin's pancake mix onto the hot skillet. "And I remind you that I'm the one driving thousands of miles so you and your sexier-than-Phoebe-Cates girlfriend, a fact I highly doubt, can see each other. So I would appreciate it if you stopped eating her food and helped me with this as I asked." Dustin frowned but continued to add raspberries to the mix anyway. "You know? I always thought you and Robin had something," Steve rolled his eyes and snorted. "Then for a moment, I thought you and Nancy would get back together by the dumb way you kept looking at her. But now this makes more sense." Steve squeezed a drop of the splashed pancake mix onto his finger and brought it to his mouth. "Yeah? Why is that?" Dustin, focused on his work, shrugged. "When you and Robin are together, you joke around like you and me, Steve, and I refuse to think you're into me." Steve made a disgusted gesture. "Gross, dude, enough." "That, and when you looked at Nancy, you suffered, Steve; you were the most miserable, pathetic…" "Don't be so kind, you'll make me cry." "…sad, and depressed," Dustin ignored his friend, handing him the bowl full of pancake mix. "but with her, you're happy; you smile. You don't have to pretend to be cool all the time, and you actually talk to her. Plus, you take care of her, and that's good because you've been breathing down my neck for so long and acting like my mom. I didn't want to tell you, but you were suffocating me, and you finding a girlfriend would be great for my individuality, Steve." Steve flipped the pancake to let the other side brown while making a face. "I get it, Henderson, you need space, and I'll give it to you as soon as you finish helping me with the coffee and get out of here." Dustin scratched his nose and coughed. "Ass-hole." Dustin was right; you brought out the best in him. Steve could talk to you and not feel like he had to impress you all the time. You made his stomach flutter, but you didn't make him act like an idiot. It was too difficult for him to figure out whether what he felt with you was a friendship that was too strong or something more. He missed you the weeks you were studying at the University, and when you came back to Hawkins, you were never close enough to him.

"I think it would be a big step to go on dates with lots of girls that would end when you drop them off at their houses the next morning," Robin had told him one day while they were rearranging the movie shelves at Family Video after Steve told her about his plan. They had stood up after the earthquake, and Keith hadn't wanted anything to do with the business again. Steve and Robin decided to take over; having a business and extra money in their pockets wasn't bad. Max, Will, and Dustin took turns after school, and they had officially entered the workforce, earning some bills that they could later spend on whatever those little gremlins spent their money on now. "Robin, it's already weird enough to have an ex in your friend circle, two would be too many, and it's a risk I'm not willing to take." His best friend let out a mocking laugh. "Ding, ding, ding, ding, Dingus! you just admitted you like her." Obviously, Steve liked you, he thought now as he plated the pancakes after getting rid of Dustin and dispatching him to Eddie's house where they would plan their new campaign or something like that. Steve liked many things and people; otherwise, he wouldn't surround himself with them. The issue was figuring out what kind of feeling he had for you. It didn't help that everyone seemed to have it figured out except him. Besides, even if he did figure it out. What about you? What did you feel about him?

Steve was your damn hero, you thought as you stretched between the soft sheets of the most comfortable bed you had ever tried and opened your eyes after a huge and shameless yawn. You looked at the ceiling of the room, trying to contain your joy. You looked at the clock on the bedside table on one side of the bed and laughed softly when you saw it was exactly noon. You had slept for over twelve hours; that was more than you usually rested in a week at College. You raised a victorious fist and got out of bed to brush your teeth and freshen up a bit before heading downstairs and looking for Steve on the first floor. You found him squeezing the juice from an orange in his kitchen when he looked at you somewhat dismayed. You walked towards him with a smile and gave him a tight hug, burying your face in his chest and feeling him slowly return the hug.

"Thank you, Steve. I really rested," you moved away from him and looked around; on a tray were syrup, raspberry pancakes, and freshly scrambled eggs. "Did you make all this?" Steve scratched his neck, somewhat embarrassed. "Dustin came over for a while to help," he admitted, and then saw your rested face without being able to help but smile. "How nice of him," you said with a smile. If you had heard his string of complaints, you wouldn't find him so nice. But he wouldn't tell you that. "Are you hungry?" "Famished!" Steve saw the sparkle in your eyes; even your smile was different when you rested. As you chewed your breakfast with gusto and asked him about his graduation from the police academy, Steve observed you again carefully so you wouldn't notice it, partly because he didn't want you to think it was strange, but also because the little adrenaline rush he got from it was addictive. He didn't know what was going on: he had known you for years, you were never a point on his radar. He knew that if he tried hard enough, he could count the times you both talked in high school and would only need the fingers of one hand. You were never attractive to him enough to be his friend, let alone something more. It's true that if he tried to remember, he could say that you always had that pleasant smile and those huge eyes that seemed to read whoever they saw. You were also nice; you never paid special attention to Tommy and Carol, nor did it seem to matter to you to be part of the school's social hierarchy, nor did it seem to matter to you to be his friend even after the Hawkins attack. Although it's true that you were always kind, he couldn't say that they became friends until a year or two ago. Steve had lived a life without you; the curious thing was that now he found it hard to imagine the rest of his life without you in it.

Your heart seemed to ache. It was strange because you were happy, very happy; you had had a bath with aromatic salts, a good dinner, most importantly: a good rest and a delicious breakfast. But your heart hurt. Today was a good day, and you didn't want to be ungrateful, but you wouldn't have this forever; and you didn't talk about the shower, the food, or the, oh, comfortable bed the size of a Cadillac. No, this; to Steve. You couldn't help feeling that your happiness had an expiration date, and it was too soon. Your stomach hurt, your chest hurt, and your mind hurt. Anyway, you tried not to show it, and in the afternoon when Steve dropped you off at your house after vegging out in his living room eating the leftovers from the night before and watching comfort movies like The Breakfast Club and The Princess Bride, which Eddie had gotten in some non-legal but not illegal way since it had come out only a few months ago in theaters, you tried not to look at him too much or try to count the moles on his neck because it was real torture. He had looked at you with those eyes and smiled as he said goodbye to you. You saw him watching you until you entered your house and said goodbye with a wave one last time. He drove away in his car, and you stayed by the window because it was almost physically impossible to move away from there. "And then?" your mother's voice sounded behind you, which was the only thing that made you move. You turned to her still holding the bag with the soft pajamas that Steve had refused to let you return. "Steve told me his plan. Did you manage to sleep?" You nodded, and your mother approached to hug you while making little cries of joy. You hid your head in her neck and started crying, it took a couple of seconds before your mother noticed. Damn Steve Harrington and his consideration for telling his plan to your mother. Damn, damn it. "What's wrong?" your mom asked, worried, cradling your face. "I need help, Mom," you hiccupped, and the phrase was barely understandable. You saw your mother raise her eyebrows and nod. "Of course, but what's wrong? What do you feel?" You tried to breathe and put your hand on your chest. "F-fear" Your mother's expression softened, making her look younger when she seemed to understand what you meant. "Oh, no, sweetheart. No," she kissed your forehead and wiped your tears with a small consoling smile. "You're in love."

Yes, at least Steve had recognized the symptoms.

#stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you

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not-goldy · 3 months

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It's time we lay this to rest. Might be a tough pill to swallow, but accepting Jikook are close enough to do this enlistment together every step of the way, should be the final straw. Went through an hard process, when they knew they could do other things, enlist separately, enlist with others, choose different units alone, but didn't. It should be everyone's cue to back off & stop spreading different narratives & lies to cope. Do you really want to do this for 17 more months, cause Jikook aren't gonna separate confirmed, for a fact, in writing.

Do you truly know your favs? Do understand how close you have to be to consistently drop all honorifics daily, the way Jikook do? Do you realize Jimin's been there for every graduation of JK's? At each other's side when the other is sick. Made a major life decision together & enlisted together. Even went to the doctor & had their covid vaccine together, cause why not. Their parents cook traditional soup for the other's bday & judging by Hobi & Tae's face, that alone should tell its not a normal occurance for her to do that for others or even at all. They spend bdays, holidays & couple days. Together alone when they made #1 as group together for the first time. Planned & gone on many private trips together over the years & before enlisting when they should've spent those last days with partners or family. Spent 8 years choosing the other, riding together, hang in the others room for hours doing nothing, go out & do things together and when they did do separate things & went out with other friends, the other was still on their minds & they let us know it publicly. Only saw each other over their breaks, while other members were living it up alone. Jimin allowed Jk on his personal album, when he said he wanted no members as features cause its about his personal life/his story & JK was allowed to be part of that. Always together behind the scenes. Knowing ones passcode to their studio & using it & the other knowing ones passcode to their home & letting himself in & making himself at home. No matter what kind of relationship you think they have, its special, its close, its mutual, its unbreakable. One day you'll get it & I hope for Jikook's sake its soon, because they deserve nothing but love, support & respected, like any other duo of BTS.

If you believe even a tiny bit Jikook are fanservice, you're saying Hybe, JK, Jimin, the Government, their parents & bts are all in this cover up together, playing along with fanservice & for what? To bring more hate on their children, their artists, their soldiers, their members? Does that make logical sense? Jikook have nothing to gain from fanservice. All they've gained from being close it hate, bullying, harassment & yes you are part of this problem, if you ever helped spread this narrative. They give you all their love, the least you can do is support & respect their decisions as adult men. Think for yourself, believe what you see, not what you're told by blogs who gaslit, manipulate, lie & you blindly follow, boosting their hate blogs & egos, while you hurt your favs you claim to love. Think for yourself & you'll finally gain some peace. I promise.

And the fact Jikook just don't care too😹😹😹

They living their best life whether they scream yell or wail nobody can tell them nothing 😹

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127luvr · 9 months

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Hey, could you do (if u feel up to it) a platonic NCT Dream x male reader where he feels he doesn't fit into the group (only added in 2019)

Thanks

Best Friend 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

Nct Dream x Male Reader

It was early 2019 when the company announced you were to be added to Nct Dream. The exact date slips your mind more than you would care to admit. Mostly due to the fact that everything seemed too rushed—from Mark’s graduation—to your sudden addition—to the release of the first album as Dream without Mark Lee.

You were never sure if the decision to add you to the group was something the company had planned beforehand or something they came up with on the spot—you were too scared to ask. Nevertheless, fans had the same questions. They were split—half saying that this scheme the company had planned to replace Mark wasn’t going to work—while the other half were defending you. Busy making sure your name wasn’t dragged through the mud just because of the shady planning behind the scenes. None of it was your fault—the graduation system was always something that was on the table for the unit.

Knowing this information and understanding it didn’t stop you from feeling guilty.

Your late addition was awkward at first—having never been in the group when Mark was in it shifted the dynamic. You didn’t have to get used to Jeno being the leader, you were introduced when he was the leader. And although they never consciously made the effort to make you feel excluded, the feeling was still there. It was clear that they were still grieving the loss of their friend in their group—and suddenly here you were. Preparing for their first album without Mark.

After the success of We Boom, you went from being Mark’s replacement to just (Y/s/n). Fans saw you as a proper member now—and while there were still some skeptics, they acknowledged you and your talents. There were no malicious intentions towards you but something still didn’t feel right.

Following Reload, you were tired. It had been over a year since you had been added to the group but the feeling of being a disposable member was still overwhelmingly present. You felt like you were watching the members from afar, as if you were still a trainee admiring them from a screen. So close but never quite close enough to reach out to. There was no point in bringing up your concerns with them—scared of how they’d react to it, considering they have been friends long before you were a part of the company. If one of the members disliked you—it was more than probable that the rest would follow.

When the news broke out that the company was abolishing the graduation system, the group was overjoyed. Of course, you were excited too. You got to experience Mark Lee in the same group that you were in. But as the time quickly came to pass, his addition back into the group made you feel worse. He was everything you envied. Perfect at dancing—at singing—at rapping—at communicating. There was nothing he couldn’t do.

Luckily this came at a time where a full album was being promoted—no one would be able to analyze your interactions with your unit if you were busy in others.

“You’ve been avoiding us.” Sooner or later—you would have had to face your members. You had hoped it would be later. Maybe never, as you would have rather spent your time watching videos on the internet on yourself—how you didn’t fit into the group as a whole—let alone your set unit. But it’s come now, in the form of leader Mark in all his glory. “I know I haven’t been back for long, (Y/n). I know that this has been our first comeback as an eight member group, but something’s off.”

It’s after a live video. The eight of you are sitting in the living room of the large dorms. Jeno, Jaemin, Mark and Jisung all share a couch while Chenle sits on the floor. You share the couch opposite to them with Haechan and Renjun, sitting as far as you could get with your ankles crossed. It’s an uncomfortable silence that follows Mark’s words, all eyes on you while you played with the frayed ends of your sweatshirt.

“(Y/n). We are all a part of this group. Regardless of how long everyone’s known each other, you are a part of this family too.”

“I’ve been waiting so long to hear that.” There are collective gasps that come from around the room. It catches you off guard when you make eye contact with an angry Jaemin. His hard eyes paired with his long eyelashes intimidate you.

“(Y/n), I know you’re entitled to how you feel and this has been such a drastic change for you, but we have been trying with you for over a year. We have gone out of our way to make sure you didn’t feel left out.” You hate how well he’s able to articulate himself even under stress, his words falling on your ears heavily as he continues. “I do want to apologize on behalf of everyone for not noticing how hard you were struggling, we should’ve pieced it together. You never came to us with problems but we also never established that you could. We’re sorry for never giving you verbal communication but you can’t say we didn’t try. We are not a group who has to really say things out loud so we understand each other but you didn’t know that.”

You let yourself inch closer to the members next to you. There was no point in trying to make yourself smaller when the attention was still centered on you. It’s an odd sensation—to think back on the interactions you’ve had with individual members.

They were always there for you—whether it was a simple affirmation from Jeno or an invite to hot pot from either Renjun and Haechan. To them it was small acts to try and ease you into the group—it was sharing water outside of the recording booth in between sessions. It was sharing jackets and pushing their leftovers towards you if they didn’t want anymore.

“Jaemin… Haechan, Renjun, Jeno, Jisung, Chenle,” you make eye contact with each member as you call out their names, trying to express how you felt through your eyes, “Mark. I was too in my own head—thinking about how you guys didn’t like me or want me here that all of the effort you put into making me feel wanted and welcome was ignored.” You couldn’t hold eye contact with Mark anymore, too embarrassed to acknowledge his nod of encouragement.

“We also should apologize.” Jeno’s voice startles you. Even if he was across the room, his voice carried so far it sounded as if he were sitting right next to you. “We should’ve done a better job of noticing that you were struggling.”

“I think if we keep going like this we’ll never stop passing the blame around.” You can’t help but smile at Jisung’s comment, mouthing a small thank you towards Jeno as he elbowedJisung’s side.

“Jisung’s right for once!”

The group erupts in laughter, the scene causing you to chuckle through teary eyes.

“Here’s to new beginnings, guys. We’re a family.” Mark’s eyes never stray from you and for the first time in over a year, you believe those words.

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oosaoosaoosa · 9 months

Text

The Essential USWNT Friendship Series: Kelley and Sonnett

Who you are: a person who has stumbled across this post because you are gay, and/or someone who wants to get into the women's world cup and the USWNT but whose fandom experience requires knowledge of the Narratives And Friendships

What this isn’t: an endorsement of being weird to players in public spaces (in real life or comment sections, or on unlocked Twitter accounts)

What this is: a (hopefully) comprehensive collection and explanation of the (public!) friendship between two fan-favorite members of the 2023 WC squad

I know I’m missing stuff and it’s likely I’ll come back to add to this! Every time I try to add anything to this post the draft editor throws me an error message so consider this a part one. Please note this is a sideblog 🫶🏼

EMILY SONNETT

29 (as of the beginning of the 2023 Women’s World Cup)

Born in Virginia, but raised in the northern suburbs of Atlanta, Georgia

Attended the University of Virginia, graduated with a degree in Sociology

Was originally a midfielder, later converted to defense. Primarily plays centerback, but can play fullback on either side, and defensive mid

She is a Sagittarius (this is important)

KELLEY O’HARA

34 (as of the beginning of the 2023 Women’s World Cup)

Born and raised in the southern suburbs of Atlanta, Georgia

Attended Stanford University, graduated with a degree in science, technology and society with a focus in environmental engineering

Was originally a forward (and in fact won the Hermann Trophy as college soccer’s top player, as a forward) but converted to play fullback on either side

She is a Leo (I told you it was important. Twin fire signs 🔥)

THE BASICS

Sonnett’s first cap was against Brazil on October 25, 2015–she started and played all 90 minutes as a centerback (beside Becky). Kelley was on the bench.

On Feb 15, 2016 they played together for the first time! They both started against Puerto Rico and Kelley scored!

Kelley was a good mentor to Sonny immediately, her little Georgia peach padawan

They didn’t appear to really get close until winter 2016-2017, when they trained together in Atlanta during the offseason and started to hang out in a smaller group and one on one

Eventually they played on the same team (Washington Spirit in the 2021 and 2022 seasons) and won a championship together! (2021)

It was Kelley's first NWSL playoff run and her first championship, but Sonny's second championship (she won with the Thorns a few years before)

Kelley scored the game-winner in the championship final, in overtime, as a header. She does not typically score, much less with her head (she is like 5'4'' on a good day). It was insane.

------------

PRE-SPIRIT

Once they were friends they were BEST FRIENDS. Kelley loves to annoy Sonnett and has since day one. Couples massage!!, training together with Moe Brian

Typical rookie/vet prank but cuter because they're besties: BOO!

They drink coffee together: Sonnett Sunday, theee Kelley O'Hara,

Sonny is secretly an artist (seriously, she can draw): Lactose Tolerant Cow

They dance together so much. Seriously, so much (bonus Rose). In the car, anywhere.

They hype each other up: Snacks at the beach, blue on navy, flexin, cutest sports girl ever, Sonnett is an undercover singer,

Even their friends have pointed out their similarities. Are they the same or are they the same?

The 2019 World Cup parade was deeply chaotic: please beer and god they drank nonstop idk how they survived, they also napped on the plane back from france with pinoe and ashlyn

they help each other out: cold towel, guest coach kelley,

They threw out the first pitch for the Braves after the World Cup (with Mal, whose husband Dansby played for the Braves at the time)

They also made an appearance at an Atlanta United game together

They were chaotic in every team picture, X,

they took on the Tokyo olympics together (feat many teammates)

they were extremely annoying in the BFF quiz while Kelley and Alex tried to win (link to the BFF quiz episode below in required viewing section)

THE SPIRITS

Sonny's e-bike is their bike, not her bike, but sometimes they biked together too

More coffee adventures, in DC this time, X + X

Mentoring rookies, but this time together

When half the Spirit got COVID in 2021 and had to quarantine at a hotel in Portland, somehow they did not get tired of each other

Exploring restaurants together

Taking pictures of each other (they called each other Rick and Morty for a while which I try to forget), & with their bikes, & with matching orange beanies, more matching orange beanies

more dancing and celebrating, even celebrating carli as a duo, celebrating moving onto the nwsl final

getting jumpscared by their own rookies...together this time

being stinky and sweaty together and generally chaotic

cheering on the braves together on kelley's couch, being very loud and annoying

celebrating the spirit championship together, X + X + schwasted dancing with Kelley's girl together, doing a tiktok with Trinity and the trophy, making memes out of their championship cellies

showing off their championship rings together and celebrating the CBA signing at Audi together

they went to DC pride with the spirits

they developed this weird euopean cheek kissing thing

clowning in huddles together and doing tiktoks with the kids

Being annoying on the player's pod they recorded with Trinity and Andi (link to the pod below in the required watching section)

Still hyping each other up, of course: nice kick!, sonny's soft spirit fingers

POST-SPIRIT

Kelley took a pic of her abs when she got cleated at the CONCACAF tournament in 2022 and in solidarity, Sonny nearly took her shirt off

still taking lots of pictures and videos of each other, mostly Kelley. (I'm putting this in post-Spirit because although we didn't know it yet, Kelley already knew she was leaving DC)

Kelley literally left the Atlanta airport during her layover to hang out with Sonny on her birthday

loving on their Spirit rookies together, even after Kelley was off to NJ, +1 (Trinity's first goal in the 2023 WWC Send-off game)

celebrating Mal's wedding together with Andi and Rose

bringing each other up in every conversation

Being annoying about Taylor Swift

Sonnett almost killed Kelley within the first 30 seconds of them playing against each other for Gotham and the Reign and Kelley thought it was hilarious

OTHER PHOTO DUMPS / COLLECTIONS

Georgia girls

Glued together in Tokyo

More Spirits shenanigans

NT Camp besties

Kelley's visit to Portland in 2019

Hyping each other up in Instagram comments

General camp/NT shenanigans including the infamous "you're so wiggly" video

2019 WC Parade ridiciulousness

More coffee! Plus a cookie (and a "cookie")

MISC PHOTOGRAPHS THAT I JUST HAVE LYING AROUND

more of Kelley mentoring rookie Sonny on the NT

Kelley and Sonny in Atlanta in 2016 or 2017 (I don't remember exactly, I also cropped Moe Brian out of this but it was 800 years ago, sorry Moe)

A moment caught in the background of a post-2019-final celebration picture

Pre-2021 NWSL championship moments: not impressed with someone's pregame speech, Sonny wore 6 for the Spirit so they were neighbors, something Sonny was saying with her mouth full was very interesting to Kelley ,

Some more Spirit NWSL championship moments: they can't believe it, Kelley was beside herself, tongues out for the gals, I would pay to know what Kelley said here, another moment where I would love a transcript,

REQUIRED VIEWING

Kelley's episode of Laughter Permitted with Julie Foudy, where a few of her best friends surprise her with an appearance, including Sonny, Allie Long and Alex Morgan

The BFF Quiz Championship, moderated by Sonnett

The Player's Pod with Sonnett, Andi Sullivan, and Trinity Rodman

1v1 with Kelley O'Hara (pre-camp 2023 WWC)

Throwing the first pitch out with Sonnett, Kelley and Mal

#USWNT #Kelley O’Hara #Emily Sonnett #FIFA Women’s World Cup 2023

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unabashegirl · 3 months

Text

Lycan 11 || Harry Styles

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is forced to return to the town where she was born for extraordinary reasons. Her father is extremely sick and on the verge of passing away. Alsfield has changed and is far from what she remembers and even though she lived in town until her high school graduation she barely recognizes it. The town hides a big secret from a few individuals that live in it including Y/N. The man who maintains the town's secret and protects it is no other than Harry Styles. Things take a sudden twist when they meet. Numerous things will impede Y/N from returning to San Francisco to her somewhat ordinary life, will she be able to abandon the town that she had successfully escaped the first time? What is the big secret that the townspeople are hiding, and what is Y/N's role in it? Who is Harry? Where does he come from? Had she met him before? And what does he want from her?

author's note: hello everyone! I hope you are all doing wonderfully. Here is the most waited chapter. I just wanted to let everyone now that Lycan has just been updated to chapter 17 on my Patreon. Here is the following schedule for my patreon these upcoming days.

word count: 2.2K

masterlist

Y/N slowly regained consciousness, the sound of voices around her gradually becoming clearer. Among them, she could distinguish Niall's voice. Her head throbbed painfully.

Y/N blinked, her vision slowly adjusting to the bright hospital room. She was still trying to grasp the surreal events that had transpired. Niall's explanation about being a werewolf and her subsequent fainting had left her in a state of disbelief.

“What happened?” she asked again, her voice barely above a whisper.

Niall leaned closer, his gaze filled with a mix of concern and understanding. “You fainted when I showed you my true form,” he repeated gently. “You're in the hospital now, within the territory of our pack.”

Y/N's eyes widened at his words. “Pack? Territory?”

Niall nodded, his expression serious. “Yes, Y/N. Instead of towns, we wolves live in packs, each governed by a hierarchy. You're in the territory of the Shadow Pack, one of the largest packs on the west side of the United States.”

Y/N's head was spinning with the magnitude of what she was hearing. It was as if she had entered a completely different world, one she had never known existed. “Shadow Pack? But… what does that mean?”

Niall smiled softly, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “It means you're part of something much larger than you ever imagined.”

Y/N's mind raced with questions, but one thing was clear: her life had taken an unexpected and extraordinary turn. She was no longer just a resident of a quiet town; she was now part of a world where werewolves existed, and she belonged to the formidable Shadow Pack. The mysteries and secrets of her past and her town were deeply intertwined with this newfound reality, and she had only just begun to uncover the truth.

Y/N's confusion only deepened as she tried to make sense of the incredible revelation Niall had shared with her. Her head throbbed painfully, and she winced as her hand came into contact with a tender spot at the back of her head. She must have injured herself during her fall when she fainted.

Niall noticed her discomfort and reached out with concern. “Are you okay? You took quite a tumble.”

Y/N nodded weakly, her focus returning to the conversation at hand. “I think so. But... I don't even know where to begin with all of this. What do you mean by hierarchy? And who's in charge?”

Niall took a deep breath, preparing to explain the complex structure of their pack. “In a wolf pack, there's a hierarchy, similar to a social order. At the top, we have the Alpha, who's the leader and makes the most critical decisions for the pack. The Beta is second in command and assists the Alpha in various ways. Then there's the Omega, who is often the lowest-ranking member of the pack.”

Y/N nodded slowly, trying to absorb this new information. “So, where do you fit into all of this?"

Niall hesitated for a moment before answering, "I'm the Beta of the Shadow Pack, which means I'm the second in command. The Alpha is the one you need to meet."

Y/N's curiosity piqued as she considered what this meeting with the Alpha might entail. "What's next, then?"

Niall stood up, offering her a hand. "First, we need to get you patched up properly. After that, I'll take you to meet the Alpha. It's important for you to understand our world, especially now that you're sort of part of it."

“Sort of?”

“I’ll explain everything as it unfolds, alright?”

Y/N accepted his hand, feeling a mixture of emotions—confusion, fear, but also a growing sense of curiosity and intrigue. Her journey into the unknown had only just begun, and with Niall as her guide, she was about to delve deeper into a reality that was far more extraordinary and complex than anything she had ever imagined.

Just as Niall was about to help Y/N up and guide her towards her next steps within the pack, the hospital room's door swung open, and in walked a young woman with an air of excitement about her. Her bright smile was infectious, but her enthusiasm seemed almost excessive.

"Hello, hello!" the woman exclaimed, her energy radiating through the room. "You must be Y/N! I've heard so much about you, and I've been dying to meet you!"

Y/N blinked in surprise, taken aback by the stranger's exuberance. "Uh, yes, I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you."

The woman practically bounded over to Y/N's bedside, extending a hand. "I'm Michaela, one of the pack's doctors. It's just fantastic to finally have you here with us!"

Y/N shook Michaela's hand, a bit bewildered by the warm reception. "Thank you for taking care of me."

Michaela beamed. "Oh, it's my pleasure! We don't often have newcomers, especially ones like you!"

Niall watched the interaction between Y/N and Michaela with a knowing expression, his lips curved into a faint smile. He had expected this level of enthusiasm from Michaela, who tended to be excitable around newcomers.

Michaela continued to fuss over Y/N, checking her vital signs and ensuring that she was feeling as comfortable as possible. Y/N couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed by the doctor's enthusiasm and the whirlwind of events that had unfolded since her arrival in the pack territory.

After a thorough examination, Michaela turned to Niall and spoke with a warm smile. "Niall, make sure she gets plenty of rest in the upcoming days. She's been through quite an ordeal. I'm prescribing some pain relief medication for her." She handed a small slip of paper to Niall.

Niall nodded appreciatively, taking the prescription from her. "Thank you, Michaela. We'll make sure she rests."

Before they could make their exit, Michaela surprised Y/N by pulling her into a gentle hug. As they embraced, the doctor whispered softly into her ear, "I'm so glad you've finally been found."

Y/N pulled back, her confusion deepening. "Found? What do you mean?"

Michaela gave her a cryptic smile and patted her shoulder before turning her attention to Niall. "Take care of her, Niall. We'll talk more soon."

With that, Michaela left the room, leaving Y/N with a sense of intrigue and curiosity. The mysteries surrounding her presence in the pack territory and the unusual reactions of its members only seemed to deepen. As she and Niall departed the hospital room, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that there was something significant she had yet to uncover about her own past and the world she had entered.

As Y/N and Niall stepped outside the hospital, Y/N's eyes widened in amazement at the sight that greeted her. The pack territory was nothing short of breathtaking. It was a stark contrast to the town she had grown up in, which had always felt a bit ordinary and uninspiring.

The landscape before her was a vision of natural beauty. Towering trees reached for the sky, their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. Flowers of vibrant colors carpeted the ground, painting the meadows with a riot of hues. The air was fresh and invigorating, and the sound of birds singing in the distance filled the atmosphere.

Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the picturesque scenery. It was as if she had stepped into a hidden paradise within the vast forest, a place she never could have imagined in her wildest dreams.

"It's... it's incredible," she finally managed to say, her voice filled with awe.

Niall nodded, his eyes reflecting her wonder. "This is our home, Y/N. The pack territory. It's a place of beauty and serenity, where we live in harmony with nature."

As they began to walk through the territory, Y/N's initial apprehension about the forest faded away. It was no longer a place that filled her with fear; instead, it felt like a sanctuary. The pack had created a world that was not only harmonious but also vibrant and alive.

With each step, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging, a connection to this remarkable world that was now her own. The mysteries and secrets of the pack were slowly unfolding before her, and she couldn't wait to discover more about her place within it.

As Y/N and Niall strolled through the streets of the pack territory, Y/N couldn't help but be amazed by the level of civilization that existed in this seemingly secluded place. The town was complete with all the amenities one might find in a regular urban area—pharmacies, grocery stores, and even furniture shops. It was a well-organized and thriving community hidden within the depths of the forest.

Y/N couldn't contain her curiosity any longer. "Niall, how on earth did you all manage to build a town like this in such a remote location?"

Niall glanced at her, his expression cryptic. "The Alpha can provide more details on that. It's quite the story."

With her questions temporarily unanswered, they continued their journey through the town, eventually arriving at a rather grand-looking house at the heart of the territory. It was larger and more majestic than the other buildings, and Y/N couldn't help but be drawn to it.

"What's this place?" Y/N asked, her eyes fixed on the imposing structure.

Niall smiled, sensing her curiosity. "This is the pack house. It's where all the young wolves, the unmated ones, live. You could think of it as a sort of sorority or fraternity house. It's also where the Alpha's office is located."

As they approached the pack house, Y/N couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Her journey into this hidden world had taken another unexpected turn, and she was on the verge of meeting the enigmatic Alpha, the leader of the Shadow Pack, and unlocking more of the pack's secrets.

As Y/N and Niall entered the packhouse, Y/N couldn't help but be struck by its grandeur. It was far more than just a house; it resembled a castle. The architecture was imposing, with stone walls and a design that spoke of history and tradition. It was a stark contrast to the picturesque town they had just walked through, yet it held its own unique beauty.

The moment they stepped inside, the atmosphere changed. Laughter and the sounds of young adults running around filled the air. It was a lively and bustling place, full of energy and youthful exuberance. Y/N watched as the pack's young members went about their activities, their faces lit up with smiles.

However, as Niall led Y/N further into the packhouse, a hush fell over the crowd. The young adults, upon noticing Niall's presence, quieted down and cast curious glances in their direction. Some even offered polite nods and lowered their heads in a sign of respect.

Y/N couldn't help but feel like an outsider in this moment, an intruder into a world she was only beginning to understand. She followed Niall, her eyes taking in the surroundings, the faces, and the unspoken curiosity of those around her. It was clear that her presence here was an event of significance, and she couldn't help but wonder what awaited her in the Alpha's office and what role she would play in the pack's intricate hierarchy.

“Unfortunately for you and me, the alpha’s office is situated at the top floor” Niall frowned as they reached the stairs. “Trust me. I tried to advise him to bring the office to the ground floor, but he refused. He said the view inspired him”.

Niall and Y/N began their ascent to the top floor of the packhouse, where the Alpha's office was situated. The broken elevator meant they had no choice but to take the stairs, and it seemed like a never-ending climb.

The staircase spiraled upwards, each step bringing them closer to their destination. Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation building within her. With every step, she was edging closer to the answers she sought about her place in this mysterious world.

Niall remained quiet during the climb, his thoughts seemingly consumed by the upcoming meeting with the Alpha. Y/N, on the other hand, couldn't shake the feeling that the packhouse held countless secrets within its walls, and she was determined to uncover them.

As they finally reached the top floor, Y/N took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for the encounter with the Alpha. She had come a long way since her arrival in the pack territory, and there was still so much more to discover about her own identity and the world of the Shadow Pack.

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