#its tommy asking dream if he saw him do the cool thing and dream replying that yeah it was great

[evienyx]

DSMP Citizens POV- Part 1

I've seen a lot of the memes going around, but I'm not funny enough to write that, so here's my addition to the trend :p

This is part one, because I had a lot of fun with this and want to do it more.

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DSMP Citizen POV Masterlist

- - -

Sometimes, it was odd for the residents of the Dream SMP to be reminded of the fact that the constant state of chaos that their server was in was not, in fact, reflective of every server.

"Why did we move here?" One woman in Snowchester whispers to another as the sirens go off for yet another nuke test and they duck down into their bunker.

The other shrugs. She doesn't have an answer. No one does.

Things started out all right, the people supposed. There weren't any wars, at least. Some of those who lived on the server before the Revolution could remember back far enough to tell you about the first true conflict, between Dream, the creator of their home, and TommyInnit, a sixteen-year-old who could yell shockingly loud, even for a teenager. Dream fought against Tommy and Tubbo (yet another teenager), and it seemed to all be in good fun.

Some will tell you now, though, that the signs of tension were already there, and when Wilbur Soot joined, those tensions only escalated.

One moment, things on the server were normal, the next, there was a Revolution.

"Did anyone else hear Dream shouting about 'white flags' this morning?" One person would ask their friends, and receive nods in return. "Anyone know what it's about?"

"A Revolution," one would respond. "Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are starting a new country."

"Oh," the first would hum. "How long until they get completely crushed?"

"Eh, I give 'em a week."

It was only a week, but it did not end the way anyone thought it would. Instead, L'Manburg gained its independence after TommyInnit gave up his discs once he lost a duel with Dream.

"Is the L'Manburg cabinet missing someone?"

"No, I don't think so. Anyway, did you hear that Dream just declared that Eret is to be crowned king?"

"...Can he do that?"

"He's Dream. He can do whatever he wants."

After the Revolution, when the server finally had more than one ruling faction, more than one place to live, things seemed to pick up a bit. President Soot, with Vice President Innit (VP Tommy, the people called him), ruled over L'Manburg, and called it a place of freedom. When word spread to other servers, people came to see for themselves.

And often, they stayed.

It was peaceful, for a while.

"President Soot announced he's holding an election," one man said to his wife one day.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Said it was for democracy." The man snorted. "He and Innit are the only party running, though. Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me."

"Darling, I know you're still salty about losing the war, but there's no reason to talk bad about a child," his wife said.

The man wrinkled his nose. "Still."

It was peaceful during the campaign.

For a while.

Then, though, Quackity announced that he was running for president, with GeorgeNotFound, best friend of Dream himself, as his running mate.

"This feels like a sitcom," one girl says as she watches the debate reruns with her friends.

"At least it's entertaining," her friend replies, shoving popcorn into his mouth.

And, for the people of the Dream SMP, from both L'Manburg and the Greater SMP, it was entertaining.

Until the election results came in, Schlatt was declared the winner, and President Soot and VP Tommy were banished.

"Dude, dude!" One teen says to their friends, running up to meet them on the Prime Path.

"What is it?"

"I just saw Technoblade join the server!"

The arrival of the Blood God shifted something in the people of the Dream SMP. When he joined Pogtopia, the rebellion being led by the two ex-leaders of the country, the people felt something settle within themselves.

All of a sudden, choosing sides wasn't as simple as where you live.

It was what you care about.

As the son of the ex-president burned down the old flag, the people of the Dream SMP, of (L')Manburg and of the Greater SMP, realized suddenly that they had to make a choice.

Without even wanting to, without doing anything to deserve it, they would have to fight.

Some people went to Pogtopia, some stayed in Manburg, some in the Greater SMP. Those in the latter two stayed where they were because they wanted to stay out of it.

It didn't change anything, in the end.

In Manburg, they watched their president (Emperor) fall further and further into alcohol, yelling at his cabinet and talking of expanding into territory that they had no right to.

In the Greater SMP, murmurs of King Eret's attempts to assist the Pogtopia rebels filled the alleyways.

In Pogtopia, people sat and watched the decline of the man that they had all once believed in. As Wilbur Soot slowly devolved until he was no longer recognizable as the man who had once led people to freedom, the residents of Pogtopia ate potatoes farmed by a man famous for his bloodlust and pretended that they were sleeping somewhere warm.

The day of the Manburg Festival, though, things felt better. Other than ex-president Soot and ex-VP Tommy (Wilbur and Tommy, the two insisted. No one listened), everyone, even the rebels in Pogtopia, were invited to attend. The people wandered through the stalls playing games, watching as Soot's son attempted (in vain) to drown Technoblade, buying food, and chatting with people from other factions, friends and family that they hadn't spoken to in weeks.

When the time came for the speeches, before the true festivities were set to begin, everyone was feeling good about the day. People congratulated Secretary Tubbo for a successful event, and offered him small words of encouragement for his speech coming up. The teenager would grin at all who spoke to him, and looked (rightfully) proud of how well he organized and decorated the festival.

Secretary Tubbo gave his speech, and people clapped, and then fell silent as President (Emperor) Schlatt laughed, asked for his Vice-President's assistance, and encased the teenager in a cage of concrete.

And then he called Technoblade to the stage.

And then, in front of the people of the Dream SMP, a teenager was executed in a spray of color that shot toward the sky.

Fireworks rained down on the people in the stands, then, and, regardless of where they were from, the people of the Dream SMP ran.

The Pogtopia ranks grew that day, and a nineteen-year-old who claimed to be a doctor without showing any credentials forced four other people to help her heal VP Tommy after he fought Technoblade in a pit, egged on by a man who once might have called himself his brother.

"How is this kid not dead yet?" One of the helpers asked, looking at the unconscious teenager's face.

"Pure spite?"

The first hummed. "Sounds about right."

One day, a bit after the festival, the people of Pogtopia woke to find Vice President Quackity walking through the ravine as if he owned the place.

One resident was noted to rub his eyes, blink three times, and then say, "It's too early for this shit," before heading back to bed.

A surprising number of people followed his lead.

Finally, the day of November 16th came, when Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit vowed to take their country back.

"I heard President Soot is planning to blow up L'Manburg," one Pogtopian woman mentioned to her friend as they suited up and prepared to fight, as they had signed up to be part of the forces.

"That's stupid," her friend replied.

"Bet you ten diamonds he blows something up."

"Fine."

As the country of L'Manburg blew sky-high, one woman was seen following another, screaming that she wanted her diamonds.

When Pogtopia won the war, the forces from both sides sat outside of the remains of the van as President Soot, VP Tommy, Secretary Tubbo, Dream, Technoblade, and many more, all piled inside to confront Emperor Schlatt.

They emerged fifteen minutes later, and Dream announced to the crowd that Schlatt was dead.

There was no time for the news to sink in, as they played hot potato with the presidency, going from VP Tommy to Wilbur Soot to Secretary Tubbo.

"President Soot is leaving, do you see that?"

"Probably going to the river to celebrate the win, if you know what I mean."

"Literally shut up. Never speak again. I hate you."

As the newly-inaugurated President Tubbo finished his speech, the people felt a wave of relief wash over them. Maybe the server could finally be peaceful once more.

Then, there was the tell-tale hiss of explosives under their feet, and the people ran as the ground beneath them fell away.

Stories of what happened next are conflicting, to say the least.

Words of President Soot dying in the explosion, of him turning the blade on himself, of another man killing him.

"He had wings," people who saw the man said. "Blonde hair, a green hat and robes. He stabbed Soot with the guy's own sword."

Technoblade apparently gave an incredible speech, and anyone who was there to witness it lamented that they hadn't recorded it.

Then, two Withers flew through the sky, and blood ran down the newly-exposed stones, and people who had never experienced death on the server before finally knew what it was like to die.

Afterward, though, when the anarchist had fled and the ex-President lay dead, President Tubbo, with VP Tommy by his side, stood and addressed the people, and made promises of a brighter future, and the hope and determination in his eyes was enough for the people to hope that maybe he was right.

("Whoa, cool wings, dude," a resident of L'Manburg said to their newest neighbor, a man in green with wings, burned across all the feathers, sprouting from his back. "Wait, what happened to them?"

"Oh, I was protecting my son from the explosion," the new resident replied.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Is your son all right at least?"

"No, he died just a few minutes afterward. His last life, too." The man sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, he probably deserved it."

A beat. "What did he do?"

"Well, you may have heard of him. Wilbur Soot? He was the president here before Schlatt, I believe."

"...Holy shit, you're the bird man that killed President Soot!"

"Yeah, mate, that's me."

"...He was your son?"

"...Yeah."

"...What the fuck is wrong with your family?")

#dsmp citizen pov #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp citizen memes #these memes have been the funniest thing stg #theyre bringing some good laughs to me at the least #anyway this one was a little angsty and a little long-winded #i wanna do one soon that is more direct #like from the pov of one particular person #when i have time i will bc this was really fun #mcyt #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #dsmp citizens #tubbo #dream

[earthfire-75]

You Send Me Flying

Chapter Seven:

(Author’s notes: co-written with @nature-and-music, beta’d by @lady-jane-revisited. Based on The Dirt movie as I don’t yet own the book. Warnings: language and smut)

We headed down stairs and piled into her car, her driving and myself in the passenger seat with the other guys in the back. My fingers were itching to reach out for her, but I fought off the urge. No reason to give those idiots any more fuel. When we pulled into the place, I prepared myself for their antics, because where of all places does she take us? A sex shop.

They’re whooping and laughing in the back seat when they realize it and even she giggles a bit. “Alright, get it all out now. I expect you to act like adults when we get in there. Got it?” She was trying to be stern, but her unsuccessfully-stifled giggles weren’t helping. It was infectious and I cracked a smile as well.

“Good luck with that,” I commented as I got out of the car.

We went inside and she got the clerk to help us with the boots while she looked out for a few other things to pull the costumes together. It went surprisingly smoothly and we met her at the checkout where she pays for it all. I let the other guys go ahead of me, but I pulled her off to the side.

“Have you been paying for all this?”

“Yeah. I mean, Nikki put me in charge of costuming.”

I must have looked as furious as I felt, because she was suddenly standing up straighter and placed her hands on my cheeks with concern on her face. “Mick, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“You’ve been paying for everything out of your own pocket! I’m guessing without help?!”

“Wait…No. Mick, look at me. Nikki and I pooled some of our savings together. Tommy and Vince threw in some too and we opened a bank account for the band. We didn’t ask you, because you’re paying child support.”

My eyes shot to hers for a second before looking away again. I quietly replied, “They weren’t supposed to tell you about that.”

“Yeah, well they were supposed to tell you about the account. What are we going to do with our children, dad?”

Something stirred in me, hearing her call me that. It surprised me that I would react like that, but I pulled her flush against me, letting her feel how hard I was getting. “Screw the kids, say that again.”

“What? Dad?” She asks, sounding confused at first, but then her eyes lit up as the dots connected in her mind and she leaned her head a little to the side so her lips just grazed my ear. “Or would you prefer “Daddy?” She pulled back, looking up at me with innocent eyes and started to back away.

A low growl escaped me at the game she was playing and I managed to hook my fingers through her belt loops before she could turn around to escape. “Oh, no you don’t, Princess.” I tugged her back to me and she gasped when our hips met but there’s a loud honk from her car before I got the chance to kiss her. The trio of idiots were staring straight through the shop’s glass windows from outside at us.

“Get a room!” came their collective cheer.

“I’m gonna kill them.”

“No, you’re not.”

I grumbled under my breath and she shot me a look that told me it would be better for me if I didn’t. “Fine. I won’t.”

She put the bags in the trunk and we headed back to the apartment. The guys and I practiced some more while she locked herself in her unit again to tirelessly work on putting the costumes together. She came back up a little after lunch with her arms full of red and black pleather, one of the boot boxes and a small sewing kit. She handed the pleather material and boots to Nikki before shooing him off to go try it on.

***

Reader’s POV

Nikki took the pile from my arms so I could take the sewing kit. His face lit up, like a kid being given his first present on Christmas, and he ran off to his bedroom. I paced around the front room of the apartment waiting for the bassist to come out. I almost sighed in relief when he finally did with a serious look on his face.

“How does it fit?” I asked, sounding as nervous as I felt.

“Like a fuckin’ glove, man! This is awesome!” He enthused, now cracking a smile and turning for all to see the outfit, front and back before coming up to me and giving me a bear hug.

I laughed and returned the hug. “Are you sure it fits ok?

“Yes, stop worrying! I promise I love it!”

“Ok…if you’re sure. Do you want to keep it here, or do you want me to hold onto it?”

“It’s probably better if you hang on to the costumes. They might get ruined here.”

“Alright. Go change back.”

“Am I next, dude?” Tommy asked, practically bouncing on his feet.

“No. Yours is last because it’s the easiest.”

“Aww, man! Wait, shouldn’t Mick’s be the easiest? His is all black, dude!”

“It might be all black, but I had to sew a damn jacket! Sounds easy, right? It’s not.”

“Oh…damn, dude.”

I turned to the singer, “Vince you’re up.”

The man jumped up from his seat and happily grabbed the outfit, giving it a look-over before trying it on “Sweet!” He comes out looking just as excited as his fellow bassist, “This is so awesome! Check me out, man.”

“And it feels alright? It’s not too tight or too loose or anything?”

Vince was a little busy running his hands over the material at first, but then answered me nonetheless, “You kidding? It fits great. We’re gonna be so badass! The chicks are gonna love it!”

The rest of the gang could agree on that matter, giving each other high fives. I smiled and let him know that I could hold on to it all for them. I gulped as I gathered the next outfit for Mick, clearly seeing the rest of the guys lurking over him like a group of vultures. The guitarist kept his cool and said nothing, aside from a slight grunt as he got up from the couch. He gave me a quiet expression of thanks and headed over the bedroom once Vince returned with his clothing and placed it on the table. Some minutes passed while he was changing and though so far there were no complaints, l still wondered if he was alright, or if he needed any assistance. After seeing him in pain like that, I was getting a little worried.

“Hey I need a little help here,” Mick notified.

I made my way towards the room, ignoring Tommy’s repeated attempt to get under my skin by commenting not to take too long. I knocked on the door, “Mick, are you decent?”

“Yeah, come in, just shut the door.”

The man was nowhere to be found after I closed the door and looked around. However my heart started to slam against my ribcage when he stepped out of the bathroom wearing his full ensemble, a big smirk across his face. The black on black look was absolutely perfect on him. The pentagram headband, the studded boots with the intertwining chains, the belts across his chest, the pleather, and the collar. Jesus Christ. The pleather and collar were too much for me. Minus the make up, he was so close to looking the way he did in my dream, the sinister and demonic creature that put me over the makeup table and took me for a ride. I wanted him, no I wanted nothing more than to let him have me anywhere]: pressed against the wall, letting him roughly pull down my pants so that I could spread my legs and he could taste me. Then grab me by shoulders, hurl me onto the bed, and beg for him to fuck me until I couldn’t walk. Still, the costume would get ruined and of course we would never hear the end of it from the idiot patrol.

“This is really cool, you really outdid yourself with this,” he remarked, walking closer to me.

It finally hit me, “You didn’t really need any help did you?” I asked, closing in the gap by hooking my finger in the ring of his collar, biting my lip as I stared deeply into those sparkling blue eyes. That must have done something to him, his breathing becoming a little shaken, and his eyes widening when I whispered to him, “Daddy...”

His pupils were suddenly dilated, blackness engulfing the pale irises. The next thing I knew, Mick held me very close to his body, his hands grasping my back. I tried to keep my sighs quiet as he kissed my lips, however I couldn’t help but let a squeal slip out when he deliciously devoured my neck with his mouth. The heat from our bodies only increased when he pressed me against a wall, his kisses becoming hungrier by the second as my own hands tugged at his raven black locks.

“Mick, oh Mick...” I whispered.

However reality had reared its ugly head back into the frame when we heard banging from the other side, “Hey! Quit fucking around you two!” Tommy wailed. “Come on, that’s our room!”

Mick shouted back, “Fuck you, you fucking teenager! Open those legs, Princess. Daddy needs you-”

“No, no Mick. Please not now, it’s not a good time. Not with those three right outside the door.”

He was clearly frustrated but took his hands off of me, groaning ast he backed off. Still, I wanted him just as badly, so I thought of a different alternative as I clicked the door shut, lifted up my shirt, and pulled down my bra, “Mark me then, please Daddy.”

Without hesitation, Mick immediately held my breasts and pressed his lips to my skin. He was gentle at first, looking at me to see if I was enjoying the feeling of his mouth. I could feel the pulsations between my legs increasing as I whispered his name. I gasped when he took a nipple and suckled on it with ease, but I needed more from him. No sooner did I settle my hand onto the back of his head that he increased the speed of his sucking. His lips were wet, creating a very moistened sound that invaded my ears. He switched over to the other side and did the same, biting down a bit and moving his head back until my sensitive bud was released from his ivories. The sounds of Tommy’s knocking had completely drowned out as he pleasured me with his mouth and I moaned loudly. I couldn’t stop watching the way he pleased me, feeling my panties getting soaked, especially when I saw the fresh blemishes and crescent marks that were upon my chest. I was nearly there and so was he, yet he had to stop for both our sakes.

He gave each breast one gentle kiss and one little lick to my nipples, he leaned into my ear and growled, “You took that like a good girl, Princess. But Daddy doesn’t want to ruin all your hard work.”

I was in a trance as I responded back instinctively, “Thank you Daddy.”

@nature-and-music @lady-jane-revisited @mickmarstookmyheart @sophiazeppelinchick

#mick mars x reader #mick mars smut #mick mars fanfiction #mick mars fanfic #motely crue #motley crue fanfiction

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

(quicksandblock) yooo have you seen the lore Q&A Eret did on twitter?? https://twitter.com/Eret_Alt/status/1366276551461900290

there's a lot there but what stands out to me most is that they seem to have a lot in common with Ranboo - both ideologically, and in that they're both still kind of naive about the prospects of being accepted back by the population as a whole after their various betrayals and perceived betrayals. I doubt Eret is the one Ranboo has in mind to team with just because Eret hasn't been online much recently but can you imagine??

COOL NEW ERET LORE DROPPED HELL YEAH

and

*checks notes*

Looks like another character to throw into the steadily growing “let’s bring the server back to its glory days/how it used to be, unity, neutrality/not picking sides, called a traitor” pile

The meta writers are positively thriving.

But yeah, the Eret lore drop has got my Eret analysis brain going again.

I actually had like, a big post about their arc back when the Fundy stuff was happening that I never finished but I’ll dump some of the same thoughts here.

I think it’s interesting. A large majority of the fandom started watching during or after the Election, right? So Eret’s role was largely “that guy who betrayed L’manburg that one time but who is now seeking out Pogtopia for a redemption arc.”

And since most of Eret’s August VODs are long, long gone or very hard to find, including his POV of the L’manburg War and the first Doomsday, the fandom’s collective memory of Eret is that redemption arc but not what came before it.

Which is a bit of a shame, ‘cause Eret had a damn good villain laugh.

They pulled all these cartoonish villain schemes on L’manburg like, who else had the dramatic flair to BLOCK OUT THE FUCKING SUN ABOVE THEM?

King shit.

And those two giant towers that have become such symbols of the L’manburg area?

They were put there to intimidate, to spy on L’manburg from above and see exactly what was going on inside the walls. When Fundy removed one because it cast a shadow over their land and blocked their view of the sky, Eret built it up again reinforced with obsidian like it was no one’s business.

Their POV of the war? After the betrayal? 

No regret. No mercy.

Do you feel bad, Dream asked?

Their reply: “Not a bit.”

The switch to redemption did not happen quickly. Eret’s character arc has come miles from where they were in August.

I wanna point something out.

When Eret joined, the first thing he built was his castle, right? I remember watching them carve out the dirt foundations and flatten that piece of the forest long before the Camarvan was even a thing. Dream SMP didn’t have a king before L’manburg. It wasn’t a faction, it wasn’t a kingdom, it was just a universe.

Eret was king in a world that had no need of one. 

So when Eret betrayed L’manburg, and Dream gave them that title, it meant nothing. It was just a decoration, a neat little accessory to go with the castle they’d already built. The title was meaningless from the start, everyone knew that. What universe needs a king when everything the light touches belongs to everyone already?

The real reason Eret betrayed was because he didn’t want to be on the losing side, and he already knew which side that would be.

Eret: “You guys offered me land, you guys offered me resources, I mean we were against a force we could not fight. I truly just saw the brighter way.”

When Fundy argued with George about how it should have been George who betrayed Dream after Fundy’s negotiations with him, Eret just laughed and said “George would’ve betrayed you the same!”

Eret told Fundy to bow to him and when he didn’t, shot him in the back as he walked away.

They saw a lost battle and chose to win. They betrayed L’manburg, chuckled to themself and sat on their golden throne with their fresh new robes and said,

“This is what victory looks like.”

They were, as Tommy called them, “a lonely villain,” stood in their tower, watching all the people they’d betrayed recruit two new members in their place and sing the new anthem with their name added in as an insult, not an honor.

He had all the power in the world and he was alone, because he had chosen the pursuit of victory over something greater.

“This is what victory looks like...” 

Right? This is victory? This loneliness?

And there, right there, the seeds of regret were sown for the first time.

And over time, they changed. They sought redemption instead. The “greater good,” whatever that really means.

Come Doomsday II, they had new purpose.

“I’ve only ever been interested in protecting the server as a whole, never wanted to pick sides beyond my original mistake. I agree, I fucked up with that original mistake, that wasn’t…that wasn’t me. That wasn’t what I wanted. I was acting in self interest then, but I’ve learned. I’ve learned…we can go on. We can go forth. It is what it is. The path to redemption.”

What I find most interesting, though, is that while the pursuit of victory is gone from their motivations now, they still keep some of the Dream SMP faction’s purpose in the war in mind: returning the server to unity, with no countries. No sides. 

"With L’manburg gone, we can move on. Finally. We can finally move on. And it’s been a long time coming – a long time coming – the division which has started with the Camarvan back in the day. With L’manburg gone, we can bring it all back together.”

The glory days, before L’manburg? The good old days, in their eyes, being not during that peacetime after the war but before that country even existed?

Some truths still remain after all this time...

Down with the revolution, boys, it was never meant to be.

#asks #dream smp #dream smp analysis #meta #long posts #eret

[ruby-whistler]

Alright curious anon here. All this is /dsmp /rp from here on out unless otherwise specified and is refering to characters. If i make any mistakes or am misinformed please let me know! So by the cat was nothing compared to mushroom henry i was meaning more toward the fact that the cow was killed as a punishment for something not worth or ok for it to be killed for at all and the fact that it belonged to tommy, wheareas the cat was killed more to annoy dream and belonged to tommy. (1/?)

alright then another lengthy reply, here i come! /lh /dsmp /rp

Dream also did not seem to mourn the cat much, shrugging it off with a "just more motivation to break out".

it was killed to hurt dream, not to "annoy him". it doesn't matter who it belonged to, c!dream was attached to it and it died, which had an effect on him and also further proved his point about attachments being weakness and caring getting you hurt, and it's still very sad.

you say that it was not ok at all to kill mooshroom henry, but the cat's death wasn't ok either, so i really don't see your point.

again, i disagree it was "nothing compared to" either way. i never meant to compare them in the first place, i was simply talking about the cat and c!dream so i don't see why it is in any way necessary to drag c!tommy and other dead pets into this. /nm

also, it isn't true he didn't mourn it. he is a very reserved person who doesn't show his feelings much, that's true, but the cat death still changed the way he acted afterwards, as well as the attempts he made to prevent it. he didn't "shrug it off", he yelled about it because he was understandably upset.

You mentioned that propganda was used to make dream seem like a tyrant, could you specify a bjt? Cus im a little confused srry /gen. Because the most i can remember from the lmanburg era at least is him being called a b'tch or other similar insults. You also mentioned how trauma responses can be differet which is true! I agree! Do you have any ideas to what caused dream the trauma?

wilbur would continuously make him out to be some sort of oppressive, tyrannical force, in front of his troops - a prime example of this being the lyrics of the l'manberg anthem itself and the l'manberg declaration of independence.

actually! here's a nice thread about l'manberg's establishment complete with links, timestamps and evidence :]

i also said in my previous post what could've possibly caused it, but since the character intentionally hides his emotions from the public, it would be difficult to see how things really affected him - which is why the way his spiral went is the majority of the evidence that would imply it, however it does make sense within the story as well with what i mentioned last time.

I would like to note that for sapnap at least had reason to leave dream. Some examples off the top of my head are dream leading an angry fundy to sapnap's pets on purpose, resulting in some deaths, dream assisting tommy in burning down sapnap's effiel tower where he got engaged to karl, and dream giving tommy either mars or the other fish at the battle of the lake. Idk about george tho other then the whole mexican lmanburg/el rapids thing and decrowning him

c!sapnap was actually at fault for most of this, and it wasn't really ever betrayal on c!dream's part.

c!dream is a mediator and he wants to stop everyone's conflict - c!fundy was angry because of c!sapnap's actions, and hence it made more sense for c!dream to centre him on c!sapnap's animals instead of running around killing everyone's pets (at that time, all c!dream knew was c!sapnap did something really bad and c!fundy wanted beckerson / mars from him, which were also his and c!george's fish).

c!sapnap was an instigator, and in multiple conflicts during the time as well as before he'd align himself against c!dream. he isn't "loyal" per se, he causes chaos and the reason c!dream helped c!tommy was because, c!sapnap, again, killed his pet. the first l'manberg war and then the 16th are signs of the fact that c!dream and c!sapnap were willing to fight together in actual war, but these small conflicts where c!sapnap continuously picked fights weren't about personal loyalty, nor did they seem to affect their relationship at all.

c!george was never really hurt by c!dream either. the dethronement was him very obviously being a guilt-trippy drama queen, but, well, that's just the character. he had stolen the l'mantree while he was supposed to be the diplomatic figure of the greater smp, which is why c!dream was justified in - very politely, may i mention - taking the duties off of him (seeing as he was also trying to keep him safe and c!techno had already assassinated him once).

Im pretty sure i remember cc!sam stating that his character never canonically physically tortured dream during his subathon but take this with a grain of salt as i am looking for the clip currently. So to the best of my knowledge dream did not have a physical contact trigger during tommy's visit which! I rewatched the vod and dream actually was first to hit tommy and i can give you my full writing downs but 10/12 of the phy-

you never finished this point because you had to go do something, but i'll reply to what is here at the moment (i suggest writing these down before sending next time, or even writing them out wholly before sending a single one could help avoid stuff like this).

i am 95% sure that the reason cc!sam stated this was because people were suspicious he had already been doing what c!quackity was doing after - torture within the storyline itself is associated pretty much only with what c!quackity is doing, so that's what he meant, just to clear up confusion - the starvation or terrible conditions haven't been retconned, but it was direct torture (like c!quackity is doing) people were asking him about.

i never said c!dream had a physical contact trigger at all, i don't think he had that, though he probably will after the torture.

huh, ok, i'm gonna have to rewatch then, but i remember c!tommy punching c!dream a lot and him just telling him to stop and only punching back to get him to stop. trigger or not, getting hit isn't very pleasant, if you know what i mean.

You mentioned tommy stealing dream's armor unprovoked. Do you have the vod or a general idea of the time so i can find it? Like before lmanburg after another event so and so because if you do not have it i can find it but any help is appreciated.

i am pretty sure you can find the video on cc!tommy's channel! there are also recaps of the disc war on youtube :]

I wanna talk a little on why the Final Control Room was so messed up. For starters, with the way the room was designed. It was small, and had labeled, empty chests with each person's name on them as a mockery. The next reason is that its bascially a kill box.

It's fairly inescapble with the stairs being ones you have to jump up, slowing anyone who climbs them down. The final reason it is messed up is that it is shown to have caused every person who died in it trauma. With tommy there are several examples, the time he saw it with techno, the way he refuses to go near it, the exposure trauma, etc. Fundy also appears to have trauma, as when the Red Banquet executions began, it can be seen as him being afraid of dying last again.

It can Be thought as tubbo having trauma because he buries most of his issues and pretends to be ok. Moreover this event took at least one of each person's canon lives, making it the most canon lives lost EVER in a dream smp event. (This is not hate on any of the ccs btw i loved this scene and its one of my personal favorites). Plus the fact Eret's betrayal just literally happened, giving at least Tommy and Wilbur canonic trust issues.

i wouldn't call the chests mockery? it was a trap. people had traps on the smp before. it was a trap in the middle of war, supposed to end said war by killing them all at once rather than individually which would be a lot more bloody and difficult.

i agree c!tommy and other people might have post-war trauma, especially if they were young during the time, but i think that's because the final control room was "messed up", moreso because the war itself was. it all happened fairly instantly as well? i don't think c!fundy would be able to realize he was the last one standing within the two second before he wasn't.

it "can be thought" and it can be interpreted like that but besides c!tommy there isn't much evidence for them "all" being traumatized by the final control room. of course betrayal would spark trust issues, i understand that.

The probation was humiliating in my opinion because dream was Sending tommy anatgonizing messages through out the whole meeting, plus he had to write a review of his day every single day, which fundy mocked him for.

i mean, it was definitely a strike to his pride, but he was being extremely uncooperative so i don't really blame the other members of new l'manberg trying to teach him to listen for once? of course i know c!dream was riling him up, and that should definitely be considered. i don't think it would be as humiliating if c!tommy didn't make it, is what i'm saying.

for the tommy being toxic to fundy? At least for the examples you gave, to me personally they come acoross as either in a meta way being the cc's bantering or in canon being the characters having banter. If you can send the post with the clips so i can read the tone better that would be cool but if not i will try and find em.

no, these were all in canon. canon isn't only when c!tommy is being nice, it's also when he's being a jerk. /lh

the first one was him threatening c!fundy about kicking him out of l'manberg and undermining his self-worth, and the second one was him trying to get c!sapnap to vote for them via bullying c!fundy.

i found these from a transcript focusing on c!fundy's character, so i don't know exactly where the first one is from, but the second one i am pretty sure is from when the elections were starting with the whole cabinet battle deal and all of that.

there are other instances, and all of them are canon. his personality was never being nice or compassionate, so i'm not really surprised? he still cares about the people he cares about and is very brave, y'know. but this part of his personality is definitely a valid reason for people to dislike him.

I hope the exam went well :). Hope u have a great day! (Ps i think theres something called a submission box to send in pictures? Am not entirely sure sry)

it would've gone well but my work-speed is a tad too slow for the schooling system (considering i'm three years younger than my classmates,,, probably that's also a factor) so probably not despite the fact i knew everything and would've aced it if i only had more time. i did as well as i could so i'm not worried about it, but thanks!

i think you're thinking submissions. sadly, i tested it and it doesn't work on anons, so idk how you'd solve that, maybe make a burner account?

Curious anon here one point you may wanna include in the redemption essay is that c!tubbo or c!tommy do not necessarily have to forgive him. What's important is that he recognizes what he did was wrong (exile, beating tommy to death, manipulating them both, etc) and does his best to make amends. Hope this helps! Can't wait to see your essay

it's out, idk if you've seen it yet, and i think i included enough of that so hope it's all good! :)

the mcc update video is out if you are an mcc enjoyer. It's very neat, if you wanna check it out

yeah! i am a fellow mcc enjoyer, saw it already, thanks for telling me though, i'm really hype for today.

Allo curious anon here sorry if the lots of asks bother you. I was just curious if i could share an interesting post i saw today about c!dream :0 (not necessarily negative i think? More of a statement of an often-confused canon)

sure thing! i don't know what you mean by often-confused since, the entire fanbase is very confused always, and often selection bias plays into the perception from both sides, but sure :]

you also sent in a thing for the other anon who said they didn't know what c!dream did that bad; pretty sure they couldn't really be alerted since, not sure if they watch my blog that closely, but i'll summarize your points just in case and add some notes;

the repeated blowing up of l'manberg (in my mind that's largely a positive since i,, despise that country, but fair enough), revealed c!ranboo as a traitor (they seem to be friends so i also,, think that might've been planned between him and enderboo), sent ghostbur away (i don't think c!dream knew it was dangerous for him and wanted to actually hurt him, but idk), participated in fighting against c!sapnap when he killed people's pets (that's only negative against c!sapnap and didn't seem to hurt him much at all), and then the whole vault scene where he was allegedly planning to steal people's things (though saying he would & being stopped beforehand and doing it are two different things, frankly).

so i still agree with the other anon that a lot of the hurt he did "to the entire server" (he only negatively interacted with like,, a half of them) is exaggerated both by the characters and the fandom, but i guess that's a consequence of most people seeing him as a threat to everyone's happiness rather than a complex personality.

Also he was aware of the butcher army going to kill techno but only got involved because he saw an opportunity to get a favor. (As he knew in advance due to him telling techno to get a totem, watching from afar instead of interveing or manipulating tubbo out of it)

i don't understand this at all, i'm sorry. how do you know he only helped techno in order to get a favor? last i remember he was only doing it to protect and strengthen his alliance, and techno came up with the whole favor thing entirely on his own. you might've not watched techno's perspective or their prior interactions, idk, but this really is a misinterpretation in my eyes. /nm

sorry if that is overly dream negative i just wanted to let yall know cus you seemed unaware -curious anon

nah dw, i watch the smp and i watched all of these things happen so, wouldn't say unaware, but thanks.

#long post #my asks #curious anon #tw torture #tw animal death #c!dream negativity in asks #nothing aggressive though #so safe to read

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Read into Me Chapter 4: North and South

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 4,753

Warnings: Swearing, bullying, i reference the plot of Wuthering Heights and that has some icky stuff in it idk what to tag that though

Author’s Note: How’re you guys liking the series so far? I’m really enjoying it, I’d love to hear what you guys think, good or bad! Also, is over 4k too much for you guys? I used to strive to hit that mark when I first started but the fandom’s changed so much, I feel like an old fart lmao

Tag List: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap​ @wolfish-willow​ @scoopsohboi​ @herre-gud-nej​ @clockworkballerina​ @maddie1504​ @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary​ @buckysarge​ @wildcvltre​ @stanleyyelnatsiii​ @unusuallchild @alwaysstressedout @linkispink1995​ @asharpkniffe​ @a-big-ball-of-idk​ @mochminnie​ @used-avocado​ @sledgy14​ @the-creative-lie​

You didn’t hear from Steve after that, save for him returning your essay with minimal markings and a graded ‘A’ on the top. He’d gone back to his people as quickly as he’d left them, letting Vicki talk his ear off from across the aisle. You didn’t mind too much, her voice was grating on the ear, but her hair was pretty and she actually seemed to ask him questions. You didn’t know why it mattered to you that she seemed genuinely interested in Steve, but you decided that he deserved someone who cared enough to know him. Everyone deserved someone who cared enough to know them. Tina just talked about herself for the whole class when everyone was supposed to be discussing the book at hand, Wuthering Heights, and it got very annoying. You just filled out your discussion questions and did your best to be invisible. No one seemed to notice except for Mr. Lawrence, who’d scolded you twice now for not participating in group discussions.

“I know that you know this stuff, but I can’t give you participation points if you don’t participate with others.” He handed you back your discussion sheet for chapter four. You’d gotten everything right; Mr. Lawrence was lobbing low balls at the class to try to get them to read the book. You didn’t change your tune; you didn’t want to talk to your peers. It didn’t matter anyway, no matter what you said to them you’d still write down the same answers and get the same grade.

You didn’t hear much about your failings to participate after he handed back your first essays. You weren’t surprised that you’d gotten a low ‘A’ on the paper; you hadn’t tried that hard on it. You noted that he’d given you a good grade on your editing, which Mr. Lawrence noted on the page that he could count it for your participation for the class, since you did so well with it. You couldn’t complain because it was a decent way to pass.

When the bell rang, you made your usual break for it, excited to be on your free period and free to sit in the sun for the afternoon. Tracy Lords was in Samantha’s gym class and with the weather so lovely they’d do class outside, giving you a chance to work on front profiles with her flat, pretty features.

Steve was dreading getting his paper back. He didn’t trust himself to get a decent grade and even with your help he was certain he’d pull above a ‘D’. Mr. Lawrence always handed out pairs face down, so no one got their grades till they were ready to flip over the page. This was the moment that he always dreaded. He found that it was easiest to rip it off like a Band-Aid, just flip it and see so it can be over. He never read comments, he just needed to know if he failed, but the bright red writing on the top of the page caught his eye immediately-‘I’m impressed, Mr. Harrington’ with a 81 percent seeping through to the back of the page. He stared at the grade until the bell rang, unsure if it was even real, if he was even awake. Once he woke up from his beautiful dream, he knew he had one thing to do.

He burst in the hallway like a golden retriever out an open gate, searching for you without really knowing where to begin. He spotted you at your locker. “Y/N!” he called. You flinched, your shoulders hunching into your neck. You could feel people looking at you, which turned you beet red, almost purple, from embarrassment. You didn’t move from your space, hoping that the tile under you would pull back into a trap door and make you disappear from the scene. It didn’t, of course, and Steve found you quickly.

“Look at this!” he held up his paper to you, beaming like a child. You looked at the paper slowly, taking in the grade and the note at the top of the page, then his face.

“Oh…that’s great.” You said, unsure how to really respond. How was supposed to respond to someone else’s B?

Steve didn’t take in your uncertainty, continuing on “Thank you,” he said earnestly, lowering his voice to add “This is probably the best grade I’ve ever gotten in that class.”

“I’m glad I could help.” You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in how you’d helped him out. Usually, the only people around that you could help was your grandparents with chores or Samantha with getting out of her house for an afternoon and while you enjoyed helping them out, you didn’t get the same joy from it, having done it for so long. Helping Steve made you feel full in a way.

Tommy Hanson had been trying to call the new kid, Billy, over to him when he saw the whole scene go down. And he didn’t like it. Not one bit. There was a hierarchy to Hawkins, rules to follow until you graduated and either solidified your choices or moved the hell out. Steve was popular, the home town hero, the sports star. That kind of power was not something to throw away on a little nobody. Tommy wished he could be that popular, to have that sort of accessibility and he got close when he kept his friends in the right station. Steve had already fucked up once, that little Nancy Wheeler bitch had already demoted him from sex god to weepy heartbroken sad boy, but that was still working for him. And he needed his backup plan to still be cool.

Tommy stalked up to Steve, throwing an arm over his shoulders. “Hey, dude, come over here, Stefanie Tomlinson’s panties are showing, you’ve gotta see this shit.” He whispered at him, loud enough to make you cringe and look away, turning back to your books and the stickers on your locker door.

“Dude, don’t be gross.” Steve said, turning his attention back to you “Like I said, thanks for the help.” Tommy kept trying to pull him away, but Steve was taller than him and harder to move around.

“Yeah, like I said, no biggie.” You kept your gaze firmly locked on your locker door. You refused to be mocked by Tommy Hanson. He practically pulled Steve away from you, looking you over with a sneer as they walked off. Tommy didn’t like you, which you already knew. It wasn’t easy for him to hide his hatred in a small town. You didn’t know why, but he’d always been like this, ever since you were kids. He used to push you into the mud and chase you off the swings in elementary school. Since you’d grown up, his cruelty had mostly subsided, but the animosity remained, especially after your mother had threatened his family with albeit an unrelated law suit, which succeeded in getting the whole family away from yours. That was the last helpful thing your mother had done for you.

Tommy kept his arm locked around his friend’s shoulders, escorting him away from potential social suicide. Steve held up his arms in defeat, laughing all the way. “Come on dude, she’s not anything to waste your time on.” Tommy said in a voice loud enough for you to hear, but quiet enough to seem like a whisper.

You shrunk in place, unable to pull your eyes away from the scene, a silent plea echoing in your mind for him to look back if he wasn’t a dick head like Tommy, left unspoken but felt in the depths of your soul. You didn’t know why it hurt you as badly as it had; you knew in your head that he no better than his friends. But your heart had hoped that he was different, that he could be better than him. You turned away before it hurt too badly, collecting your books in your arms and rushing off towards your spare period, hoping to find a bit of quiet to recover from what you’d just experienced.

Steve turned back to see you walking away, his laughter dying in his throat, what Tommy said bouncing around his mind. As soon as Tommy released him, he smacked the freckle faced boy hard in the ribs. “Can you try to not be a dick for five minutes?” he asked, getting a laugh out of Carol, who’d been filing her nails without much interest in the whole thing.

“What? Who gives a shit about her?” Tommy asked, doubling back with his hand on his chest.

“She’s a nice girl, dude, don’t be an asshole.” Steve replied sternly. That piqued Carol’s attention. She turned up from her chipped red nails to look Steve over with a discerning eye.

“Oh god, don’t tell me that you’re trying to bring in another Wheeler type chick into this.” She groaned, brushing away a strand of red hair from her cheek.

“Jesus Christ…” Steve rubbed the bridge of his nose “I don’t know what Nance did to you, but you need to calm down on that crap.”

“But you’re not dating her, right?” Tommy asked.

“Dude, all she did was help me with an assignment, that’s all.” Steve groaned. He felt like a dick, being so dismissive of you, he did like you, but he didn’t really even know you and neither did his friends. He didn’t like anyone assuming who he was or wasn’t with, and yet he still felt like a shithead. He didn’t know why but he did.

When you came home from school, your grandmother was waiting for you by the front door, red plaid kitchen rag draped on her shoulder, apron hanging low on her hips. “Your mother called when you were at school, wanted to see how you were.” She said, wiping her hands on the apron. She shook her head, obviously annoyed at the thought of her absent daughter.

“What’d you tell her?” you asked, kicking off your sneakers and putting them back onto the rack. You didn’t hide your distaste in your mother’s asking about you.

“That you were at school and to call back for you later. She told me to tell you that she’d be back in June and that she was bringing back someone special.” Your grandmother replied, turning back into the kitchen to return to whatever she was making. Your grandfather was passed out on the couch, his snores emanating from the living room almost comforting to you as you trekked up the stairs. You knew that your mother wouldn’t call again for you. She could never remember to call you at a time when you might be at home. She certainly wouldn’t be able to remember to call back.

Before you could even set your bag down, the phone on your desk blared from your desk. Samantha was at soccer practise, so you didn’t believe it was for you, but with your grandmother busy in the kitchen and your grandfather passed out, you grabbed the phone, asking “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Steve,” from his own room, Steve had thought about talking to you again for most of the day, but he’d only found the confidence what the day was over and he was home, where he didn’t have to look at you to speak to you. “I’m sorry if Tommy was weird to you today, he’s an idiot.”

You frowned, brow furrowing “It’s cool, no worries…” you replied. You didn’t feel like explaining how you already knew how much of an idiot he was.

“Yeah, so I was kind of wondering…if you’re not busy…would you mind maybe helping me with the readings? I don’t get this shit at all.” He chuckled awkwardly. In truth he’d had no plan to actually read the novel they’d been assigned, that’s what Cliff’s Notes was for, but he wanted to be around you more, so if homework was a reason to get to be around, then he’d actually read.

“Um…sure, I guess I could.” You didn’t really know what the right answer was for you. You weren’t sure that you trusted him, especially after what had happened that afternoon with Tommy, but your gut told you to say yes.

“Great! What’re you doing right now? Could you meet me somewhere, the reading for the tenth chapter is due tomorrow and I don’t even know what’s happening.” He felt a tad desperate, which was not a feeling he was used to around girls.

“I mean…where would you wanna meet?” anxiety was creeping up the back of your neck. You tried to wipe it away like sweat, but it was stuck to your brainstem.

“You could come over to my place or like I could meet you at the library or something.” Steve didn’t exactly have an answer to that one, he wasn’t even sure he’d get this far. He looked around his messy room, wondering if he’d made the right choice.

You didn’t exactly want to be in his house, but you didn’t have a car and it would take you forever to walk back into town to get to the public library. With a heavy heart, you accepted your unfortunate fate. “I could come over to your place.” You said, squeezing your eyes shut. You hoped that he wasn’t going to take that the wrong way.

“Yeah?” Steve hoped the panic wasn’t evident in his voice. His mother was still out of town and his father spent more time at his office in Carmel then he spent at home as it was. He’d let the mess pile up a bit and he didn’t want to look disgusting.

“Yeah, sure.” You tried to sound casual, but your blood had run cold and your hands had gone clammy. You gripped the receiver far too tightly, your eyes shifting around your room.

“Alright, cool, yeah cool…” Steve said, trying to sound casual “How long do you think it would take to get here?”

“I mean…you still drive the rust coloured BMW, right?” you asked, pulling your curtains back to peer out your window.

“Yeah?” Steve asked.

“I can see your house from my window, I’ll be there in like a minute.” You said.

Steve’s head turned upward, looking around worriedly. He bid his goodbyes quickly, turning his full attention to his messy bed and dirty floor, trying to get every pair of boxers laying on the floor into a basket. He hadn’t expected you to agree to come to his house, and his stomach churned at the idea of freaking you out. He didn’t want to scare you away because he was messy and gross.

You felt as if you’d swallowed your tongue. You rushed for the door, uttering a quick goodbye to your grandparents and pulling your backpack straps tight on your back. It was only five feet away. Five feet. Cross the street and up the driveway and you’re there. You took in a deep breath through your nose and took the first tripping step down your driveway, your body not co-operating with your mind and trying to escape where you were trying to bring it. You needed to calm down, your palms were starting to sweat and your knees had turned to Jell-O. You stopped in the middle of the empty street, huffing out another breath, trying to remind yourself that nothing could hurt you over there. That you could handle anything thrown at you.

Somehow, you made it to the front door without blacking out. You went to knock on the door, but it opened before you made contact. Steve looked frazzled, his hair flopping into his eyes, his expression panicked. “You’re here!” he said, his body blocking the doorframe.

“Am I not supposed to be?” you asked, your hand coming to clutch the top of your opposite arm.

“Nah, nah you are I just-never mind. I’m going crazy I think, come on in.” Steve stuttered, moving his arm out of the way, letting you inside. He didn’t know why he was nervous, he was never nervous to have a girl over. But you weren’t like the usual girls he would invite to hang out by his pool.

You stepped into his house cautiously, entering the dark space like it was a well-preserved colonial mansion. The Harrington household was cold. Everything was navy blue, steely grey, and white. He’d left the lights off in the entryway and the kitchen, although the lights above the grey brick fireplace were on, three white pot lights lighting the whole space. It made his house look ominous. Nobody was around either, you knew that Steve was an only child, but in your house your grandparents were always milling around; sound and voices were everywhere. Steve’s house was silent. The white vertical blinds were left open, and you could see the pool outside, which hadn’t been cleaned yet that day. The carpeting throughout the downstairs muffled your footsteps, adding to the eerie silence.  Overall, the house looked expensive. They had all the latest technology and aesthetically the house was very stylish, it made you want to not touch anything in fear of breaking something. You shivered involuntarily, letting your eyes wander around the house, taking in the massive TV and the matching stereo. All his money didn’t make the space feel like home.

“My stuff’s just upstairs.” Steve pointed a thumb up the stairwell by the front door. You hadn’t realized that you’d wandered out of the foyer and into his house. You swallowed, nodding hard and bounding up the steps ahead of him. You noticed that there weren’t any photographs around the house. That felt a bit homier to you; your grandmother kept most of the photos in intricate albums, only keeping a singular family photograph on the mantle of the white tiled fireplace. That felt a bit right to you, that it really was a home and not a showcase home.

Steve’s bedroom was also blue and dark. His walls were dark blue plaid, with matching curtains. The colour was only broken up by a few posters and a floating bookshelf, which held a couple small trophies and a couple books held between black metal bookstands. His bedspread was a navy quilt,  and his desk was dark wood and heavy looking. The signs of childhood were clear in the plaid wallpaper and curtains, clearly still remaining from a younger life. But beyond it, the room lacked a bit of personality. The only signs of life were the full laundry hamper and the papers on his desk. Everything else in the room could be in anyone’s room. It looked like a guest room or a hotel room. You dropped your bag on the grey carpeting, unsure where to put yourself in the space. Steve was much more casual, pulling out his desk chair and taking a seat, gesturing for you to sit across from him on the bed. You did so, sitting gingerly on the wrinkled bedspread. It was strange to sit on a boy’s bed, much less it be Steve Harrington’s bed.  

“Alright, um…where to begin?” you asked, more to yourself than him. “I guess we should go over what happened in the chapter, yeah?”

“Yeah sure…” Steve replied, picking up his copy of the novel, flipping it open to the chapter. “Uh…so the main chick is in love with Heath and she loves him and they all live happily ever after?”

“That’s…not the plot of either this chapter or the novel.” You said slowly, not looking down to flip your own copy of the book to the marked chapter.

“I mean…that’s what I got from the Kate Bush song.” Steve muttered awkwardly.

“So, you haven’t read the book? Like nothing at all?” you asked. Steve shook his head. “Cliff’s Notes then?” you guessed, looking back to the shelf to see a few of the black and yellow striped covers of the versions of Little Women, Robinson Crusoe, and King Lear. You’d used the reference guides yourself, albeit not as a replacement for the novels themselves.

“You got me…” Steve muttered. He felt like an idiot. It had only taken a minute for him to get caught in his fib.

“Then what’d you need me for?” you replied, setting your book down on the bed next to you, looking him over carefully. Cliff’s Notes would cover everything he needed, they’d answer the questions for him.

“Look…I’m shit at this stuff. I don’t get it. I don’t get why we’re reading this, the book is so boring, even the notes are boring!” he groaned.

“The book is shit.” You replied, deadpan. “Mr. Lawrence is having us read it because it’s one of like three books the county mandates that we read and they gave us Robinson Crusoe last year.”

“What am I supposed to get from it then if he doesn’t even like it?” Steve chuckled, turning to address you fully.

“Well…it’s a tortured love story.” Steve raised an eyebrow at you. You pressed on “Catherine and Heathcliff are in love, but because Heathcliff’s of a lower station than her, they can never be together. And even though Catherine marries someone else she can’t bear life without him.”

“Aren’t they like siblings or something?” Steve’s lip curled upwards in a disgusted expression.

“Adopted siblings and if Emily Bronte doesn’t think it’s weird then we have to ignore it.” You explained with a shrug. You leaned back on your palms, kicking your feet casually. With the windows open, his room was warm and sunny. It faced the woods behind his side of the road, and they looked beautiful from up near the treetops. You’d heard the rumours of Jonathan Byers taking photos of little Nancy Wheeler on the same bed you sat on from the woods. It made you feel icky at the time and uncomfortable now. You didn’t like the idea that anyone could be watching you.

“Then what is Kate Bush singing about? She makes it sound like they get together.” Steve asked. He watched you with a careful eye, his nerves making it hard to even try to catch your eye. You seemed happy, calmer too, and your hair was catching the sunlight from his window, making a pretty crown of light around your head.

“I mean…Catherine dies trying to return to Heathcliff across the moors, Kate Bush is like being her ghost, trying to come back to her love from beyond the grave.” You said simply. Steve pulled out his notebook, the questions written out in wide, square letters. He quickly began scribbling down what you’d said. He pulled out his copy of the Cliff’s Notes and flipped to chapter ten, filling out the questions. You wondered if you should stay or go, but Steve’s profile was partially shaded by the angle he sat at, and the way his jaw jutted out made him look like the statue of David. You slowly pulled out your sketchbook and flipped to a new page. Graphite in hand, you slowly began drawing out his sharp, angular jaw and strong neck.

“So, when did you find the time to read the whole book?” he asked; only briefly looking up from his notes to look at you. Your hair was still pulled up in the bun you’d put it in that morning and your gaze was focused on whatever was behind that heavy looking spiral bound pad.

“It was on, like, the seventh grade summer reading list.” You replied, not looking up. You could feel his eyes on you and the copy of lips weren’t matching the real life counterpart. You pulled your lip between your teeth, using your thumb to blend out a thin line.

“You remembered all that from middle school?” Steve asked.

“Well…I mean the book is kind of weird. Like, it doesn’t make sense, the narrator keeps changing and the speaker isn’t always made known. It was really hard to read, but the story itself was pretty run of the mill. I don’t really get why we have to read it at all…” You explained quietly, switching to a piece of charcoal to add thin, textured lines to the lower lip.

“It’s really shit, eh?” Steve chuckled, turning his attention back to the thin book. “Who’s Isabella again?”

“It is crap. And Isabella’s Catherine’s sister-in-law. She has a crush on Heathcliff, you can write on that, that’s revealed in this chapter.” You explained. You didn’t blame Steve for not understanding the book, you absolutely hated the book when you read it the first time and it was by no means an easy read.

“She’s in love with him, but he’s in love with Catherine?” Steve was scribbling fast, writing down whatever you said.

“Yes and Catherine’s in love with Heathcliff but married Mr. Linton for status.” You replied. Steve and you worked in silence for awhile. Mr. Lawrence expected answers in full sentences and provide reasoning for everything you sourced. Meanwhile, you set a high standard for your art. While you didn’t expect perfection from yourself, you wanted to try to do good work, even just for yourself.

You’d never drawn Steve Harrington before. You’d done pictures of tons of your classmates, Steve just never seemed like someone who needed to be drawn. He had tons of people looking at him and praising him all the time, to his face and behind his back. He seemed like a little celebrity in Hawkins, but sitting on his head, with the sun hitting half of his face and making pretty shadows in the hollows of his face, you saw the small beauty in his features. You knew that he was attractive, that was a universal truth, but now sat on his bed alone in his room, you understood that he really was beautiful. Maybe not on the inside, you didn’t know if he was a truly good person, but on the outside he was golden. Your hands demanded to recreate his features. You felt as though you were carving one of Greek gods of Hawkins high, the best of the town’s beauty.

Steve finished his work soon after and looked to you with a lopsided grin. “I say, and you can totally disagree, that we work better together than apart.” He said triumphantly, jabbing the cap onto his pen.

You looked up with a smirk from your drawing. It was nearly done and you weren’t mad at the work either. It certainly looked like Steve and the shadows were intriguing.  It would’ve made a better painting, but the little sketch was nothing to sneeze at. “I mean, you certainly do.” You replied easily. Steve chuckled, you weren’t wrong; he knew that you were much smarter than him.

“But sure, if you need the help then I’ll help. No big deal.” The words left your mouth before you’d thought them through. But they were true. Despite not knowing him, despite being freaked out by every phone call and conversation, you found yourself still coming back. Your mind was pulled in two very different directions, between adrenaline laced panic that made your hands go clammy and shake and genuine curiosity and intrigue.

Steve couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. He was certain that you’d already on the porch steps, running towards your house as fast as you could. Something in his gut told him not to expect anything. But you agreed. He broke into a lopsided grin, brushing a piece of long brown hair out of his eyes. “Cool, yeah, that’d be great! So, I’ll call you?” he asked tentatively, trying to still give you an out to his own request.

“You already know the number.” You smirked, a yellow sticky note catching your eye. You could see your name and number written in Steve’s wide handwriting stuck to the wall in front of his desk. It made you smile, the small detail of him even looking you up made you laugh. You’d been across the street from him your whole life, but him trying to find you made you strangely happy. You gathered up your things quickly, heading back across the street as another car came into his driveway, an immaculately made up woman in the front seat. She didn’t look you in the face as you passed, focusing on the opening garage door in front of her. You made a mad dash for your house. Everything felt…calm. Strangely calm. You didn’t know if you liked it.

#stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve x reader #steve x y/n #steve x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington aus #steve harrington au #steve harrington headcanons #steve harrington hc #stranger things imagine #stranger things au #stranger things headcanon #joe keery #reader fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic

[kathyrealmstales]

NEW SMP THEORY! (I cracked the plot!)

Hello! I came up with a new theory, but this time I did some real work and I didn't just throw out random ideas. Crazy, right?

But seriously, I think I have a good theory for today.

Disclaimers: to begin with, spoilers for Dream SMP and Kingdom Heart. (Strange to see that game in a warning for the SMP, huh? Well, we will get to that soon.)

Also, just remember this is roleplay, all the actors are friends. If I see you trash-talking the actors you're being blocked. I don’t like hate.

I also wish to thank my sister for her assistance. I don't know much about the Kingdom Heart fandom except with what the Wiki tells me by watching my sister play it, so my sister had to suffer while I tried to find connections in a block game roleplay. Thank you so much, my loving sister.

Under this line is the theory! Hope you enjoy it!

------------------------------------THE START--------------------------

If you are familiar with the tales of the SMP, then you might already know a common theory.

The theory is that the TOTSMP area, "The In-between," is based on Castle Oblivion from Kingdom Heart. It looks exactly like the interior of the castle in the game, as well as the idea of losing memories. It's a cool easter egg.

However, my theory doesn't stop there, because I began to see more connections, making me believe that maybe the latest plot of the SMP is following a bit of Kingdom Heart plot.

Let me try to break it down into evidence and explanations.

In the latest episode of TOTSMP, Karl travels to this new world, escaping the "In-between" and going to this place called “The Other Side.” A strange name, but what is even stranger is that I felt I had already seen the castle before, so of course I did some research.

For starters, I noticed the In-between warned Karl that if he left, he would lose all of his memories, kind of like in Kingdom Heart when Sora went to that sleep state, he lost his memories. I thought there had to be a connection to the Kingdom Heart and this new world Karl was in now since it seemed to be following a pattern.

I tried to do more research by using Wiki and looking up other castles in the game that it could be. I came up with a few ideas, but none of them stuck. It just made no sense, so I went to the only person I know who knows Kingdom Heart more than me, my sister.

My sister and I love playing these games together, but while I'm just trying to figure how the game works (because of my love for coding), my sister listens to the plot and knows way more than I. Sure, we haven't finished all the games, but she knows enough to help me. So we got on the phone to figure out how this new world was connected, and when I left that call, I saw the Dream SMP in a whole new light.

- The Other Side evidence

We have an idea of what the Other Side looks like but that’s it. My sister believes it resembles the Hollow Bastion, which is intriguing. She claims it is linked to Castle Oblivion, but what makes it more interesting is that she said this place is also usually where the Kingdom Heart stories end. This got my attention since Dream hinted that the story’s end might be approaching soon. (I hope it's not-)

I then thought we had a good idea for the theory, a rather small one about the TOTSMP but a good one. So still wanting to talk to her, I told her why I was asking for her ideas, and then I explained the Dream SMP plot to her. The more we talked about the plot, though, the more my sister and I noticed parallels between the stories.

-

Eggpire evidence

To begin, we discussed the Egg People. I jokingly said, "Oh, does Kingdom Heart have mind-controlled people?" She replied, "if you count the heartless." Which shocked me because it makes the Egg People’s ability to pick who is controlled or not make so much sense!

You see, the Heartless are people without a heart (Hearts are similar to people's souls in the game, which is strange. But oh well). The heartless follow the rules of the Darkness. I'm not sure whom or what controls the Darkness, but I do know they are subjected to some sort of mind control or animal instinct. The most important aspect to consider is how they multiply. They seek out characters from whom they can steal hearts of so they can turn back into normal people. However, they need their own heart, not just a random one, so this method is ineffective and just makes more heartless.

Because of this information, I came up with a theory that may be the reason why the egg only works on certain people. I think it is the same reason why only some turn heartless. People with weak souls are usually turned, while people with more light in their souls are typically more difficult to turn to a heartless, implying that while Puffy and Sam had weak souls at the time, they are becoming stronger, making it more difficult for "darkness" or the egg to mind control them.

Also, this would explain why Tommy can't be mind-controlled at all; he is mostly made of light, and everyone sees him as the hero. It would just make sense; it’s really hard to control him.

-

Pandora’s box evidence

There seems to be a correlation with the prison. This one is probably my favorite because it makes the most sense to me.

Most theories believe the prison is similar to Pandora's Box, owing to the prison's name. However, Kingdom Heart had its own Pandora's Box, and no, I'm not referring to the one in Hercules' world. I'm talking about the box that was told to never be opened.

I don't know everything about Kingdom Heart, therefore, I can't go into great detail about this box like I did with the Heartless theory, but basically, the main dude who started the plot of Kingdom Heart had a bunch of apprentices, and he left them with a box that they were never supposed to open. Of course, the bad guys got the box and opened it, only to discover that it contained some time-traveling stuff, which caused some of the apprentices and The Keyblade of all Keybladeds to appear.

If we take that information and put it in place with Dream SMP characters, it looks like where the plot might be going. Dream is the main bad guy who opens the box with whatever he has. What emerges is Wilbur Soot, a man from the past, he takes the place of the apprentices and Tommy is the Keyblade of Keyblades.

What makes me believe Tommy is the Keyblade? I mean, It could be someone else, but the thing is, Dream keeps referring to Tommy as "the Key," and in Kingdom Heart, Sora is also referred to as "the Key." It's also possible that it could be Ranboo, since the key is made of both darkness and light, and Ranboo appears to look as if he is both, but this is all just speculation at this point.

Either way, I think we as a fandom were on the right track, thinking evil black boxes, just not Pandora’s box.

-

Organizations evidence

This is only tangentially related, but Kingdom Heart did have their group of evil bad guys whom, based on what I saw in the cut scenes, didn’t care if you show up to meetings or not. (basing this off of all those empty chairs. Then again, those chairs were really high up, I would miss meetings too if I had to sit in those things.)

Another thing to note about this organization is that they disliked higher authority, but this one opposed them because they were all about good and needed the princess's light, whereas the anarchist syndicate in the SMP were more anti-government. Nonetheless, both are going after government officials.

(The organization also had code names that were their real names, but with an X in them and scrambled around. They weren't as cool as the Anarchists Syndicate’s nicknames, but there was a connection.)

-

Now we'll look at the improbable evidence, as well as thoughts that might not make much sense.

-

Bad guys with correlations

The antagonist in Kingdom Heart had a bunch of copies of himself, procured with the help of time travel. I find this amusing, especially given that we know there are multiple Dreams in canon, including Dream, DreamXD, Mexican Dream, Girl Dream, and (possibly) Drista. It's almost as if he's the main antagonist, especially when considering the-- Norted thing, (that's what my sister called it. I'm not sure about the name, so we'll go with Norted Thing for now) The point is, he can control some people if they are willing, but they can rebel if they have strong hearts (again, I believe this is the case). This reminds me of Ranboo and his enderwalking state in which he hears Dream’s voice in his head. Again, just a hunch.

-

The plot is the same

This is the last piece of evidence I have, and it is the main fact from which I derived all of the connections. After my sister and I discussed the possibility of it being linked, I jokingly said during our call, "There are so many connections between the latest plot of the SMP and Kingdom Heart, The only difference I feel like they have is that the Dream SMP is all about how there is no bad or good, just greyscale, while Kingdom Heart is about dark vs light."

My sister responded, "It's the same thing. Most people believe it is dark vs. light, but the more you play the games, the more you realize it isn't. The majority of the characters begin as good or bad and gradually reveal their true selves. Nobody in the story is completely light or dark."

This shocked me because I always thought Kingdom Heart was about bad versus good. So now we've matched the main ideas as well!

Ohhh boy!

-

This is all I have for now. If you have anything to add, please send it to me as a comment or a submission, or simply make your own post and let me know so I can see it! (I know as I wrote this I found more connections, but I’m saving them for later.)

But, in any case, I believe you can see the idea--Dream SMP has some connections to the Kingdom Heart plot, assuming my theory is correct. It wouldn't be the first time. Dream SMP has loosely copied the Broadway show, Hamilton during the L'manburg war, and I know the writers like Disney at least for right now, so it makes sense.

I'm also going to leave you with this: Our Fandoms are the same, We get information that makes no sense and we have no idea where it fits in the puzzles, and we know (sometimes) the writers don't know either, so we just have to accept and enjoy it.

THAT IS ALL! GOOD DAY!

#smp theory #dsmp #dream smp #mcyt #theory #kingdom hearts #tales of the smp #just an idea

[byorder-fanfic]

A Good Man

Summary: After all that she’s been through and all she’s done, Lizzie deserves a good man. She thought John could save her from prostitution, she hoped Tommy could see her as more than a whore. Soon she realises, she deserves better than a good man- she deserves a good man who loves her.

Word count: 1994

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sexual abuse and harassment

Authors Note: Hi, this is my first ever fanfiction I’ve posted, so feedback would really be appreciated! Hope you enjoy it xx

Lizzie was tired. Tommy told her no more customers, no more lying down for faceless men and imagining she was anywhere else, with anyone else. She used to dream of finding a good man, one that would take her to bed with the only payment of love. So, when John proposed, she said yes. He was good. As simple as that. In truth, he didn't love her and she didn't love him. But he made her smile, and she would be a good mother. Mother. Kids in her arms and a husband at her side- it didn't seem real. But money wasn't easy to come by; her visible bones were enough to prove that. Her promise to John wouldn't pay for her meals or the rent on her leaking apartment and, as long as her last name was Stark, she would not take John's money. The only part of her flat that was safe from dishevelment was her bed, a bed she couldn't sleep on for the pain that still lingered in her memory. Bruises were easy enough to cover up (she'd learnt that young) but memories couldn't be so easily concealed with a splash of cheap powder and a cool spoon. She was a good woman, she repeated under her breath, Tommy's money still heavy in her coat, she just didn't do good things. It sounded fake, even in her thoughts. John had been calm when he broke off the engagement. She tried to leave with as much grace as she could. In different clothes, in a different life, she could've been a dancer, she thought. Her limbs were long and strong, even if she could count all her ribs when she took off her dress. But she walked with poise, a sense of dignity that had left her heart a long time ago.

Things seemed to be getting better. When Grace had left Tommy in pieces, Lizzie gave him company on lonely nights. He wasn't ever fucking her, she knew. Why else would she always be face down? She was just a thing for him to forget, but for her, she dared to dream he could save her. He was a good man, a good brother to John. Yet every night, after a smoke and a smile, he'd leave the money in her hands. She was still a whore to him. Then things seemed to get better: she traded in getting bent over the desk to being the one who types on it. It was finally her chance to make honest money, be a good woman. It was good, even if her reputation still buried its way deep into their hungry eyes. Only, this time, she could afford to say no. Then Tommy invited her to the Derby. Jeremiah had told her she looked like a proper rich lady, the type that belonged in these sorts of places. It made her smile the whole way there, as she constantly smoothed down her dress. It was nice, nicer than any she'd ever worn before, and virginial white. Maybe Tommy wasn't seeing her as a whore any more, she dared to think. Maybe he saw her as Lizzie Stark, the graceful lady in a pretty dress, who belonged at the races. Hope fell into betrayal as he pointed to the soldier behind her. No more customers, he had said. Unless it suited him, he'd forgotten that part- a fine print she skimmed over. Just as he had broken every other promise, he didn't save her. Her dress was torn, a purple bruise prominent on her thin cheek. When she waved that gun in her hand, she would've killed him. Tommy wasn't a good man, but she was a good woman. She was. Even when John cradled her face and looked at her with those sad eyes, she didn't tell him that his brother was the one who did this. He didn't have Tommy's cold eyes. John was a good man, and he had to stay around for Esme and those beautiful kids of his. She didn’t.

She didn't hand in her notice. She should've, but she didn't. Tommy finally had Grace for real now, so he wouldn't bother her. John and her were on friendly terms, and she'd even gotten close to his wife, Esme. The two dark-haired women were so similar in certain areas (i.e. hating the blue-eyed crook that they worked for), their friendship was hardly a surprise for the Shelby family. Polly still saw her as a whore, she knew, but that wasn't something she could fight. They all saw her as a whore before a secretary. Except Jeremiah, of course. Now, that was a friendship that shocked everyone. Lizzie knew she wasn't a Madonna, but the preacher seemed to be the only one that made her think she had more worth than how far she could spread her legs. Or, how well she could type. It was her pride and joy, watching her skeleton fingers hurry over the buttons with precision and speed. It was good work, work she was good at, work that she could proudly take the money from Tommy's hands. She'd moved into a new, clean flat, and got a new bed she could sleep peacefully in. It was becoming easier to look at herself in the mirror, easier to look at the blooming curves that were beginning to hide the taut skin stretched over bones. She was a good woman, she said with a smile, and she had saved herself.

She was focused on the typewriter most days, and that was exactly what she was doing when Tommy was having a meeting with the Italians. Bloody wops, Arthur had grumbled all day when he heard they were coming. John was no better. They still remembered the green, white and red from the wrong side of Flanders field. But Tommy had insisted. Business was business, he'd said. And business was all he cared about, Lizzie silently finished for him. The white haired Changretta sat with the three brothers, leaving a gaggle of hulking Italians in their fine clothes to wander around the betting shop under Polly's watchful eyes. But Lizzie was focused on her work. That was until a slam on her desk sounded over her rapid typing. With a sigh, she looked up. He was tall with the typical olive skin, dressed in a refined way that did not reach his eyes: wild, hungry eyes that she recognised with a racing of her heart.

"You're Lizzie Stark, aren't you?" He asked. She forced herself to look down from his lustful look, down to his broad hand on her desk, which covered up some paper notes. This was not the Derby, she chanted, she would not let him.

"Yeah, and?" Her rough, Brummie accent was so in contrast with her newfound elegance.

"I think this is your usual rate," his snarl was enough to get her to cringe. Nevertheless, she looked up at him with a determined fire in her brown eyes. He looked like the nasty kind. Before, she would just lie back and think of England for those sorts, but now? She was going to be nasty back. A gun was tucked away in her drawer, her fingers wrapped over the cold metal. Tommy was still conversing with Vincente Changretta just next door, and he would not be happy if Lizzie decided to put a hole in his office, or in an Italian lackey. But Lizzie would not let the Derby repeat itself. No more customers. If Tommy wouldn't save her, she would save herself.

"Unless you want a secretary, I'm afraid I can't help you."

"A secretary, huh?" He gave an amused laugh as he slumped back in the chair opposite hers, heedless of her violent glare. The paper money stood out amongst the brown wood of the desk. "See, I thought you were a whore."

Before she could snap back, a hand gripped onto the Italian opposite her. The sudden motion caused him to jump up, cocky snarl replaced with pale fear. The man behind him was taller, a long coat covering his broad figure. He was handsome, with a round face, and the same hooked nose as the older man, still in Tommy's office.

"Now then, Alberti," he began with a soft voice, thinly veiling his menace. "I'd hate to tell my father that you've been harassing the Shelby's loveliest secretary." He gave a flirtatious grin to Lizzie, who was watching him with furrowed brows, hands not leaving the gun.

"Sorry, Mr Changretta." The quiet stutter in his voice was enough to satisfy the Changretta, who let his grip on him go as he motioned for him to leave. The newly identified Alberti reached over to grab the money from in front of Lizzie, only for it to be taken away by the other man. "Call it compensation for the distress you've caused Miss Stark."

Miss Stark. She hadn't been called that before. He smiled as he watched Alberti trudge away, hands in his pocket.

"Miss Stark," he turned to extend his hand. It was polite, not the kind of introduction she was used to. Hesitantly, she let go of the gun and shook his hand. "My name is Angel Changretta."

"It's just Lizzie," she replied. Angel tried to pass the paper notes to Lizzie, but she shoved her palms against her desk as she shook her head.

"I'm not a whore."

"I know." He looked like he was being honest, although Lizzie wasn't too sure what that looked like any more.

"I can't take that. I won't."

"Fine." With a sigh, he placed it in the pocket on the breast of his coat. Angel looked up to her with another smile. "At least let me spend it on a meal for us."

"Us?" Lizzie froze. The drawer was still open, gun glinting in her peripheral. She didn't know if Angel could see it, he was just staring at her with his dark eyes. 

"Yes, I'd like to take you to my restaurant." She looked him up and down for any hint of a joke, the slightest tinge of evil intentions. "If that would be alright with you?"

She bit her lip. Men never bought her food, especially not without expecting some sort of invitation home. Despite that fact that weighed down in her mind, she managed to force back a smile.

"As a date?"

Angel blushed a little, scratching the back of his dark hair. It was shiny under the lights, indicating he'd applied a fair bit of gel in there. She wondered, quite bashfully, how it would feel to run her fingers through it.

"Well...um...yes." With a shrug, he managed to regain the confidence he had been oozing only seconds before. "Lizzie Stark, will you go on a date with me?"

It sent a schoolgirl-like thrill through her chest to hear that. He sounded so polite, like she was one of those proper ladies he could be courting, or whatever the hell those posh fucks called it. 

"Just dinner," she wagged her finger in warning, more teasingly than not.

"My lady," he bowed a little, hand on his chest in theatrical earnestness. "I am a man of my word." The grin gracing his handsome face was infectious, causing Lizzie to beam back up at him. "Is that a yes?"

"My shift finishes at five," she told him. A date, she was going on a date, just like normal people do. "Don't be late."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

His grin didn't leave his face as his father walked out of the office with the three Shelby brothers in tow, his dark eyes totally fixated on her as they all left. She found herself watching him leave too, not quite believing it herself. The boys were looking at her funny, as if they couldn't quite understand what was going on. To Lizzie, it was simple: she was a good woman, she deserved a good man.

Read Part Two here

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #lizzie stark #lizzie stark fanfiction #angel changretta #lizzie stark x angel changretta #lizzie x angel #tommy shelby #tommy x lizzie #john shelby #john x lizzie #esme shelby #polly grey #jeremiah jesus #vincente changretta #fluff #peaky blinders fluff #fanfiction

[nostalgic-pancakes]

Watching the starlings as autumn draws in

Summary: Tommy and his friends try on some skirts, and he reflects a bit on how they all got here. (It's a happy story) Title from September by Sparky Deathcap

Pairings: None! Platonic everyone (esp in irl fics_)

Read on AO3 (preferred place to read)

Word count: 2570

Warnings: None, except for surface-level references to the exile/prison arcs, but not much.

Other notes: I wrote this in a fit of madness last night in like three hours at 2 am, so i’ll probably edit it honestly but for now, enjoy! (If the CC’s ever display discomfort with this type of fic I will take it down)

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

"WELCOME BACK TO THE STREAM, BOYS!" Tommy exclaims, rubbing his hands together as he starts rapid-fire answering questions about the stream, and the stream title from chat. It's funny, how over time, Tommy's come to see Chat as this one entity- an old friend. The nervousness of answering questions as a fifteen year old with nothing but a big personality, a twitch account and a copy of Minecraft is all but gone now, nineteen years old and happier than he's ever been.

Dreadfulzombie19: what are u doin this stream

"THANK YOU FOR ASKING, Dreadfulzombie19, today is gonna be a bit different, innit Tubbo?" Tommy raises his voice a bit at the end of his sentence, just loud enough for one of his flatmates to hear him. When Tubbo yells back an affirmative, Tommy turns back to his setup. Chat's gone a bit wild again, even though he, Tubbo and Ranboo have been living together for over a year now.

"Okay, okay, calm down chat- so recently I was at university, as usual right? And I had an eight AM class again, and… yeah I can see you all can relate."

"BUT! BUT! On my way back to the flat, I saw something really cool." Tommy hesitates in his speech to take a sip of coke again- his blood pressure's been acting up lately and watches Chat to wild again, asking him what he saw.

"Okay, so there was a shop- new place, which doesn't happen often this is fucking Brighton- and they sold skirts and dresses and stuff with adjustments for AMAB sizes!" Chat goes a bit bonkers, but Tommy's mod team- a little smaller than it used to be, now that he isn't the centre of YouTube or Twitch attention anymore, none of them are- are handling it, and pretty well.

"So I had to go, right? As many of you probably know, last year, I made the astounding discovery that gender-based stereotypes and expectations are, in fact, fake and I should not give a SHIT. And so I go in and look through the stuff- it's a really poggers shop by the way, and I find the perfect thing- it was the most poggers skirts and shit, okay? So, today's stream is going to have me wearing this pogchamp shit and wearing it right, with the help of…" Tommy ends his monologue by picking up the joke shaker-things that Phil had gotten him as a housewarming gift last year and indicates for his first two helpers to enter the office.

In walks his mother, face obscured from view as always, waving to the camera, and Wilbur, also wearing one of his only skirts for this occasion. Eret had taught him, on a phonecall in the skirt shop that week about the different types of skirts with a handy diagram. Wilbur's was a pleated circle skirt, brown to offset the bright yellow of his sweater and beanie, the same colour as his hair. It's very swoosh-y, so he's wearing black leggings with his regular shoes too. Motherinnit's also wearing her favourite skirt, a baby blue prairie skirt, Tommy thinks, and it's one he's seen fairly often.

Wilbur ducks down in order to show his face to Chat, and ruffles Tommy's hair while he's at it. Tommy's taller, but not by much, so Wilbur still fucking makes short jokes, That fucker.

Chat is now going so fast that he simply cannot read anything but some of the all caps messages and can barely make out some of the emotes.

"Okay, OKAY, CALM DOWN CHAT! WE HAVE TO GET TO FUCKING BUSINESS!" Tommy yells into the mix, like he did when he was sixteen and used the 'many people find me annoying at first' intro. Nowadays he just lets the content speak for itself. Anyone who wants to be here already is, by now.

Wilbur laughs a bit, and that hasn't changed at all. "Tommy, how is chat supposed to calm down if you're not calm?"

"I am their god!! They will obey via sheer digital willpower!" Tommy replies back, pretty zealously (What? An English Literature class is mandatory for his film degree, and The Great Gatsby by Zelda Fitzgerald is a good book, as are most of the other assigned ones. He's had entire conversations with Techno with just lit quotes and it drives everyone insane. Tommy loves it.) Chat seemingly has listened to his godlike abilities, with a few OG's spotting his half-quotation of one of Dream's last lines in the Dream SMP. The rest are spamming 'MOTHERINNIT'.

"If having a shitty magic trick book from a washed-up politician makes you a god, then what does that make me?" Wilbur replies, with one of Foolish's lines and swatting his hand at Tommy. Tommy swats back.

"Bitch" "Arsehole" "Shithead" "Fuckface" Wilbur finishes cheerily, as if this happens all the time. It does. Chat's used their antics now, four years of consistently making content together will do that for you.

Eventually Motherinnit reminds them both to get back on Topic, and Tommy goes back to facing the camera, addressing Chat directly.

"Today, my beloved mother, and my idiot brother-" "hey!" "And maybe my flatmates will be joining me to show off some cool as SHIT skirts! And a dress or two. We all have our selections, right?" Everyone nods in affirmative, even Tubbo and Ranboo. Though the camera can't see them. Ranboo's just come home from his final class, then. He should probably take the first hour back off, and judging by how Tubbo is forcefully judging Ranboo to the shower, he probably gets it. Tommy signs an affirmative to both of them, and gets back to the camera, where Wilbur's showing off all of his (very poggers) very stupid brown or yellow skirts. Tommy's are in cool colours, for fuck's sake.

"Oh yeah, Puffy just confirmed she'll be on stream! She'll be here in about twenty minutes, accounting for fucking traffic, and Niki' going to get onto VC after her own stream, what game is it this time?"

"GRIS." Wilbur answers.

"Poggers- she is the SHIT and will join us soon! So expect some QUALITY QUALITY content this stream!! Remember to not spam her chat to finish faster." Exclaims Tommy, even if it ends up as a light warning, as he picks up his own very poggers skirts from the extra armchair in his office to show the camera.

One is the classic red and white, mostly white but with bright red on the waist (elastic) and the bottom, and it reached to about Tommy's knee, if worn at the hip. It had no pleats, but the red bits were a very nice velvet texture, and while the skirt was heavy, it still had very much swoosh value, and pockets!! Big ones!! He slips the skirt on top of his jeans before entering camera view, the skirt visible in all its classic Tommyinnit glory, as he takes his place right next to Wilbur, who just took. a quick spin at the behest of several dono's., Skirt spying out from his lower shins all the way to his knee, making visible one of his (many) petticoats. ("What? It's cold all the fucking time here, Toms.") Tommy also makes a quick little spin, skirt flying outward, not upward, so it looks like he's hula hooping for a moment there. Lastly, Motherinnit spins around too, and while her skirts do not swoosh, she looks opulent, like she was about to go to waltz with the enemy, for whom she has a dagger in the back of her dress for. (He finished Anna Karenina and the Six of Crows duology within the same week and has not yet recovered. Jack Edwards is laughing at him as he thinks in his English Lit Graduate glory.)

It's fun, trying on different skirts- he and Wilbur accidentally bought the same dress at one point, which they paired up to wear, darting off into their respective changing rooms while giggling like idiots with their checkered blouses and the grindl skirts that Niki had sent over when she heard of this stream idea, laughing the whole time. Tubbo enters as dramatically as possible with Puffy, and while Tubbo looks really fucking good in his handkerchief skirt with embroidered bees and plain white shirt, it's Puffy who steals the show with an exact, real life version of her red banquet dress.

Fans from way back in the SMP, before Tommy had started branching out start going insane and are bringing back emotes Tommy wasn't sure were still available, but she is fucking stunning- deep shades of red and crimson, with slits on either side of her waist and all the detailing. She'd gotten the contact for her dressmaker through Bernadette Banner, Tommy recalls- she was so fucking cool when she streamed with him once, and gotten him to swear less and supplant those world's with bigger ones to intimidate instead. While he still curses like a sailor as part of his persona, it's less so and he does way less in real life these days, unless the situation calls for it. It's also just rude, especially in uni libraries, where he spends too much time these days wondering why he didn't read more as a kid.

Puffy's stolen his audience for a WHILE, and Niki coming on hasn't helped any, so Tommy exits camera view for a while to hug Ranboo really quickly- he's had midterms and has basically been dying all month.

Everyone on this stream- Tommy, Wilbur, Motherinnit, Tubbo, Puffy, Niki and Ranboo enter the camera frame after entering their dressing rooms for the last time on this particular stream, Puffy with full in-character wigs and makeup, Tommy in an Edwardian-Gothic reminiscent black and red dress, Ranboo in something he bought when he gap-yeared in Japan, punk lolita or something, Niki flaunting her pink in a Marie Antoinette style show of finery, Tubbo dressing in all green this time, something like a very deranged biology teacher who hasn't slept in days (Tubbo hasn't-Tommy has to get into that), Wilbur like a forest-nymph, all earthy tones and swishy fabrics and nature highlights, and finally Motherinnit, who hasn't changed but is here to take pictures as they all lean in together to fit into frame, as drastic as their height difference is. Niki is going to be edited in later, and everyone on the 'Dream SMP but nobody does Dream SMP and we're all fucking nerds' discord server is going to get a copy.

The stream wraps up there, after about two hours, and it's only about six in the evening- a far cry from the late nights and long hours from the beginning of Tommy's career, so everyone runs to their changing areas for the last time, into pajamas now, and packs away all of the clothes they wore, properly, as to not incense Karolina Zebrowska, and Jemma, Dan's wife, who would look at them disappointedly and nobody wants a sad Jemma because that means no cooing at their son. Also it just feels shitty.

Everyone huddles in Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo's living room, and they out on UP for like, the millionth fucking time (they still cry when Ellie dies), and Tommy is leaning into Wilbur's side and feeling his mum play with the hair in his very small, stubby ponytail he's developed by being in Uni as he and Tubbo intertwine their legs together and Ranboo rests his head in the tangle of limbs, playing with his fidget cube. Puffy stays on Wilbur's side, intently texting someone and smiling the whole while, and Tommy takes a moment to reflect (something he's been getting better at doing) on how the actual hell they all got here.

The Dream SMP was always going to end- everyone knew it, if course, they were the fucking writers. But by the time they did, not only were their respective brands too closely intertwined to just… sever that quickly, but they'd become too close to even want to. So the SMP discord never shut, even though Dream and George had planned it months ago, and they continued supporting each other with their interests. Wilbur made a lot more music solo, with his band and even just random ass streams where he practiced guitar for an hour. He kept playing Minecraft, but it wasn't his main focus. A bunch of people left. More stayed. YouTube left him alone.

Dream, George and Sapnap are still Minecraft streamers, but their YouTube channels are mostly blogs of them being poor excuses of adults with other former SMP members joining in sometimes. Tommy and the Dream Team were closer than ever, even though the seeds of their friendship had been sowed when they used to linger after heavy streams together, reassuring each other that none of that was true and that nothing like… that would happen in real life, because Dream had used real abuse tactics, and those still hurt unless immediately taken care of. So they were. It was a running joke that Dream was stuck at 99 million subscribers since nobody really wanted the face reveal anymore. The other Dream team members were doing peachy.

Phil and Techno were also still primarily Minecraft streamers, but they also released things like advice videos and mental health stuff, especially for relationships. They had a new scripted series where Tommy was a minor character. The dadza jokes were still as real, and yes, outside of streaming, both of them were lovely people and responsible adults (mostly). They collaborated with DanTDM and co a lot more now.

Puffy and Niki kept doing games, but did lots of different ones, testing point and clickers to triple A titles, and making it all fucking hilarious while they were at it.

So where had that left Tommy?

After the Dream SMP, he'd kind of had no idea what to do, and he was going to University for the first time, so he just… did whatever he thought would be fun. He learned about vintage fashion from the queens themselves- Mina Le, Bernadette Banner and Karolina Zebrowska and had fun learning how to sew for the first time, fixing and making his own clothes for the first time, clunky as they were, Wilbur had cried, genuinely, when he saw the Lovejoy shirts that Tommy had made for the band. He'd found a genuine love for literature in university, so Tommy started talking to booktubers and studytubers like Jack Edwards and Noelle Stevenson. Tubbo and Ranboo had joined him, fucking around in any YouTube niche they found even remotely interesting. Eventually, they all found a happy medium- a bit of everything.

Some people obviously weren't happy with that but Tommy was happy as he was, making what he liked with his best friend's, living together close enough to most of their friends (family) to have fun and drop in on one another at ass-o-clock in the morning to comfort, to laugh. His sub count hasn't gone up in a while- most of his audience is static, with about 80-90k online on a stream at any time.p

It was a nice feeling, to have carved out a space for himself and the people he loves, and be is so, so glad that he got this chance.

Looking at his mostly asleep family, Tommy thinks 'yeah. Life is good.' as the last thought before he sleeps.

#dream smp #mcyt #irl fic #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #tubbo #nihachu #ranboo #vee's writing #2021

[kyotakumrau]

2019.09.13

VERY rough notes from TRill MUsic radio program with Toshiya as a SUPER SUDDEN guest.

DJs are Joe Yokomizo and Yumenoyua

.

In the beginning they actually commented on how sudden this visit is and that Toshiya doesn't appear often on a radio.

They talked about the new artist photo:

Toshiya : Everyone decides their outfits etc by themselves, Kyo didn't want to show his face.

♪人間を被る

They talk again about the artist photo - it's so dark it's hard to understand who is who

T: すみません・sorry! (they all laugh)

Tweets from fans commenting how handsome he is, his fitness, diet. Toshiya replies that he eats properly.

Joe asks him about going grocery shopping and Toshiya talks about buying side dishes at the supermarket, he also buys discounted food (like any other normal person XP)

Other DJ summarizes band's history and they talk about the start of the band in 1997. All other members are from Kansai besides Toshiya who's from Nagano.

Toshiya explains they met in Tokyo. He was friends with a different band person and was invited to do a joint concert (2man) with Kyo's band. He thought that Kyo will definitely succeed. When he heard that Kyo's band disbanded and his band was planning to do that as well he decided to talk to Kyo.

Kyo apparently said :おれもしゃべりたかったねん・I wanted to talk to you too (Toshiya's imitation of Kyo was so sweet😂).

He says that indie times were a long time ago, now it's just a story, fun talk, even if then it was hard.

Next topic is free time - toshiya on his days off does what he likes, namely designing clothes. He draws his ideas, chooses materials; it takes time to make sample, fix problems, but he enjoys it.

It's a single but it's 10min long.

Toshiya comments that for a single it's their longest one; releasing singles is becoming more and more difficult and confusing, what's the point? (from a music market industry view point). When releasing a single there's more tough parts to think about compared to albums (including catchy parts etc).

Each time they struggle making decisions about singles.

He was sorry again for the length of the single😂

When asked if it's hard to play such long songs live? He said its fun.

Recording also took long this time.

Kyo wanted to do long song but it didn't go smoothly??

Is it connected to the last album?

Toshiya: it's different for every member, but for me it's connected to as the last song from the album.

♪the world of mercy radio edit

Which part is important according to you?

Toshiya says thinking about the flow of the song, how it will progress. They have quite few longer songs, but they always have to think about the flow, consider performing it live etc.

They always want to make something that doesn't exist yet, something better.

They talk about Toshiya's roots:

Toshiya got interested in music thanks to his mother liking music and listening to music on TV, her favorite was Julie (Sawada Kenji).

(Toshiya sings his songs in karaoke??😂)

Next they talk about performing live. Toshiya gets very nervous before every performance.

Among their 30 singles what does he remember best?

Toshiya: at the start being produced by Yoshiki.

He won't share his impression of Yoshiki so he doesn't need to quit music😂

(as in godfather Yoshiki could finish him if he overstepped😂)

His reason to start a band was BOOWY, Buck-Tick, LUNA SEA (there was one more band listed I didn't catch).

The bassists he respects the most are Taiji from X and J from LUNA SEA.

Back to the indie times topic. Toshiya first did a band in Nagano, then came to Tokyo. He was basically so poor he didn't have money for food or a proper place to live. He survived thanks to 天使ちゃん・an angel. His dream at that point was to be able to feed himself・食えるようなりたい

Then they talk about their first budokan, how they made it there. Tommy-san did impossible come true, they talk about Tommy and Joe laughs: it was Toshiya who laughed (not me)!'😂

They talk that at that time ppl with make up in bands where scary (in a cool sense). When Toshiya met Tommy and checked his past band, he had to double check it's the same person😂

This radio program is the first time Toshiya talked about being so poor during indie times. He had no time to work part time because of band activities, but there was no money from music.

♪Toshiya announces the next song by Julie, 'a song that my mother liked very much!'

"I never thought I will be listening to Julie during a program with dir" - fan comment😂

Joe asks about the upcoming tour, everything is ready, rehearsal finished, setlists ready (one of the reasons Toshiya was staying only first 30 minutes was that he wants to rests before the start of the tour).

Toshiya is looking forward to the food he can try during the tour in Japan. But he's not good with spicy food and can't really drink now, in the past he used to drink after shows but gradually stopped.

Joe gives a long speech about how great are DIR's shows❤

Next he comments: And you have tour abroad in winter... do you not rest???!

Toshiya: I'm grateful we have a chance to play abroad.

Can you share some memories from touring abroad?

Toshiya explains that when they played in Germany, at Rock am Ring for the first time, after their performance he was walking up by the stage and he saw Metallica was watching them, they complimented their show. And asked about Kyo bleeding from his mouth 'is your vocalist okay????'

😶

How about foreign food?

Toshiya: it's not good, I don't like pizza, in the US pizza is huge but not tasty at all.

When touring abroad they want cup ramen and yakisoba and will fight over any they get (from fans etc) among themselves🔥😂 it will turn into violent bloody fights😂

CUPMEN

Any plans after you finish the tour in Europe?

Toshiya: there're already things decided, so please look forward to the announcements.

They 'fight/do their best on stage' (fan tweet) Toshiya's joke: We only don't fight on stage, after the show we fight over ramen xD

Yakisoba/smell stays on the bus, you know what was eaten immediately.

They talk about the playing at concerts, 3~4 kg lost during the show, sweat it out

Joe: Are you masochists?!・君たちはドM？！

Which place he's looking forward to visit?

Toshiya: each place, but I don't think I've been to Morioka, so I'm looking forward to going there (and food there!).

What about playing in Nagano again?

Toshiya replies that playing in his hometown is too embarrassing so he always refuses, he doesn't want any special treatment like 'welcome home Toshiya!' 😂

They talk about taking care of himself after shows: going back straight to hotel and having water, taking care of his throat.

When the other DJ comments they are busy with so many shows Toahiya replies that comparing to their schedule in the past now it's not so tough.

Joe reads fan's comment on twitter about the white stuff kyo used to make to spit - when Toahiya saw him mixing the stuff in the backstage he thought he looked very happy 😂

And then came more praises from Joe about DIR shows: 人生変わります・ they will change your life.

♪Ranunculus

Toshiya left, but DJs talked a bit more about Dir, but my hand refused to cooperate anymore😅

#dir en grey #toshiya #joe yokomizo #trill music #translation #kind of #i tried XD #tour19 this way to self destruction #the world of mercy

[catharrington]

only the 3rd weirdest thing 

Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington don’t talk, they don’t longingly glance, and they sure as hell don’t go to the same parties and play spin the bottle.

(2.9 k words. This is my first fanfic in this community~ I love silly tropes and this is literally just spin the bottle trope. But I also love a sad, ptsd struggling Steve. Enjoy, thanks!)

***

Steve was tired of parties. It’s all bullshit rang in his ears like a mantra, but yet here he stood. Outside Carol’s door knocking so softly he wished she wouldn’t hear it. But of course they were eagerly awaiting the arrival of King Steve.

Tommy and Carol opened the door and smiled in unison. It made Steve think briefly of twiddle dee and twiddle dum from Alice in Wonderland. He scolded himself for insulting his friends and forced a smile back. That’s why he had come to this party after all: Tommy and Carol are his friends! And it’s his senior year so the parties are louder and larger and he just has to be there or be square! Steve could hear the voice of Carol and her pink lipgloss saying those words to him last week. A hard clap landed on his shoulder and he was lead inside.

“Steve you actually showed!” She announced, her pink lip gloss toned up with a bright red one instead. It did nothing to hide her cruel smirk. There was a respectable amount of people already gathered in the house who were all equally interested in his arrival.

“Yeah, well,” Steve stood up tall and smiled, “couldn’t pass up taking some of your free beer?” He said so very cool. Like none of this bothered him, and there were not demon creatures living in the woods he fought off with a bat covered in nails the other month. Steve was interested in the free beer.

Tommy laughed his familiar laugh and said, “Let’s get this guy a beer then!” And just like that a beer was pushed into Steve’s hand. He didn’t need the peer pressure to want to open the can as quick as it was passed to him and start chugging it down. If being in this light has taught him one thing it’s the more you drink the better you feel. And right now Steve didn’t feel peachy. So he drank it all in one breath and reveled in the applause. Just like nothing had changed.

He crushed the can and passed it to carol who was graceful enough to take it and lead him to the kitchen to find more. He just hoped he wasn’t coming off as desperate to get drunk, but in honesty he was desperate to get drunk.

Three beers down and he was feeling warm already but not much happier when the door opened again. This time it wasn’t a silence waiting to be impressed, the crowd didn’t need pleasing. They erupted into another fit as soon as the new guest entered. Hot and heavy, Billy Hargrove strutted inside and shrugged off his jacket- giving the audience a good show of his open shirt. Tommy lunged to catch the leather before it fell, and gingerly placed it on the rack.

Steve grabbed another beer and drank it down. He hasn’t talked to Billy since he got his face beat in by the other boy. They had passed in hallways and played basket ball once in the short time, but they haven’t spoken a word to the other. Steve has noticed that Billy’s insistent glaring and snarling hasn’t let up. Usually when there is beef it ends with a fight, but something in Billy has yet to be quenched.

Billy basked in his greatness a minute longer before he too was ushered into the kitchen to get a drink and maybe put on a show of seeing Steve like he had at the last Halloween party. The audience was red hot for their meeting, and charged electricity was in the air. But Steve didn’t give them a show. He just kept leaned over on the island counter, in a very cool way, and buried his face in his can. Billy surprisingly did nothing but smirk.

There was a moment of silence in the crowded kitchen as the two boys stood on either end of the island counter. They watched the other: Billy like a hound dog, and Steve like a fox.

But the moment didn’t last forever as teenagers attention spans are short. Chatter about movies and sport games turned up like a dial on the radio. Begrudgingly, Tommy, Carol, and Billy chit chatted about the latest basket ball game instead of noticing Steve.

The party went on like a normal party would. No demons in the forest or bats with nails to wield. One six pack in and Steve had actually begun to feel happier. He actually lifted himself from the island counter and was holding a conversation with a pretty girl from his language arts class. Her name was something that started with an A, and she had short brown hair that bounced everywhere. Steve spent a good portion of his attention span trying to not think of how it looked like Nancy’s hair. He has always had a preferences for blondes with curls, he argued with himself, Nancy ruined brown hair forever thanks a lot.

Amy- Annie- Amanda? She asked Steve if he wanted to join them in a game and he was just drunk enough to say yes. He followed her to a quaint circle of equally drunk teens that were holding an empty bottle of tequila. Steve might be drunk, but he knew spin the bottle when he saw it. Maybe this would be a good distraction, he considered. Maybe this would distract him from the shame of how he was to scared to go anywhere without remembering to put a bloodied bat full of nails in his trunk. Steve agreed it was worth a try as he let himself be guided and pushed down to a place in the circle.

They were in game and happy to see more people join, especially the girls were happy to see Steve join. It was a while before Steve’s turn and he just smirked like he had everything under control. Two turns went by, two boys who were friends got the same girl in a row and she blushed but leaned forward for a short kiss both times. The boys high fived, then passed the turn to a girl on their left- but the bottle was snatched up.

Billy Hargrove loomed over the circle like a lion on a rock, smiling. “Would you guys mind if I joined?” He purred, then made room for himself to sit down without waiting for a reply. “Used to play this game back in California, I can show you how to really get your rocks off, Hawkins!” He placed the bottle expertly down in the middle and flicked his wrist to let it spin.

The smile had mostly faded from Steve’s face when Billy sat down all except what he could force to stay, but when the tequila bottle slowed and stopped to point its rim right between his big brown eyes, Steve’s smile completely slipped. A melodious ringing of giggles from the girls drowned out the gasping from the boys. It was fun to have a same sex kiss, they wanted it from the girls, but when it came to the boy’s it was a test of true strength. A double dog dare to see how far someone could be pushed. Steve had done it before of course he knew he was strong enough but it’s different now.

Now he was back at the Byers drive way watching Billy blow smoke and puff out his chest through tears. Steve might need help with his algebra but he's not dumb enough to miss someone on the brink of a breakdown when he’s seeing it, he’s looked in a mirror enough. It wasn’t the horrible dreams and nightmares, even before that it was his father being so disappointed he wouldn’t spare Steve a single word. It was his mother looking on sadly then plastering a candy smile on her face when she noticed that Steve was looking at her. “We can pay for you to have a tutor!” She chirped. Because that’s what Steve needed. He needed his parents to spend more money like he needed another black eye.

And Steve could see it in Billy’s eyes that night that someone let him down. Someone who Billy cared about didn’t know what he needed. Someone didn’t care about Billy back. Steve knows that flavor of longing so well it made him dissociate when he fought with Billy that night. Really he would loved to have shared with him that he knows, he can see, and he doesn’t deserve that. No one does, not even the big school bully Billy Hargrove. But in Hawkins boys can’t talk about that. Steve wouldn’t want his dad to say that specific word to him in that specific tone of voice that made Steve’s heart shrivel up and blacken.

Now he was back in the living room at the party with Billy leaning into the circle, his tongue dancing as he laughed along with the girls. “Harrington,” he leered and it was soft like a silk kimono robe, “I gotta say, I thought I’d be bashing your face in again tonight, not some girly shit like this?” He turned it up at the end like a question.

“For real, Hargrove,” Steve willed the words out and thankfully they didn’t break. “I didn’t think you’d do anything to me tonight, except give me a headache with all your prissy shit talking.” That earned a chorus of laughter.

Billy rose to his knees. He lifted one leg to a kneeling stance and leaned over to even his eyes with Steve. “Are you going to play the game? Or pussy out?” Billy dragged out the words with more lip licking. Steve felt his stomach tighten up at the thought of how he had tempted him so long with that from a distance and now he’s got those wet lips face to face.

Steve lifted himself to his knees and mirrored Billy’s knelt over stance. They have to lean awkwardly into the middle of the circle and kiss for everyone to see. That’s the rules of the game. Billy was already there with his top half in the middle, waiting for his chance to pounce. Steve kept his back straight and taller than Billy, letting himself look down at the other boy. If he ever wanted to know what it was like to put his hand into an open flame, this would be the closest thing. Billy was on fire and Steve could read it all over his face, and his warmth was making heat rise in Steve. The heat started at his hips, just where his sweater brushed over the hem of his jeans, and he just hoped it wasn’t showing as a blush on his cheeks. Boys are not supposed to blush when they kiss other boys. Steve could hear his fathers voice again and he finally leaned down to touch the flame.

Billy took the reigns, always hot and heavy, he reached forward to grasp the back of Steve’s arm and lead him the rest of the way forward so their lips ghosted over each other. Steve’s eyebrows where furrowed together but he rolled his eyes at the eagerness. Billy pulled him in and kissed Steve with everything he had. Both their eyes fluttered closed but Steve almost snapped his back open when he felt the teeth scraping against his bottom lip.

Instantly, it clicked for Steve that Billy wanted more than a peck. It happened in that instant that Billy licked open Steve’s lips and let himself inside, wetting and tasting all the crevices he could reach with that skilled tongue. Steve had to will back a thirsty moan. It had been a long time sense he kissed someone who really wanted to be kissed. But the context was different, Billy was a showman and he wanted a fight with fists or with tongues. The demons in the woods gurgled up a scream and the sharpness of the nails glittered in the moonlight, and Steve decided that he was done fighting with Billy Hargrove.

So his lips turned up in the corners showing a small smile, and his hand delicately lifted to cup Billy’s cheek, and Steve let him pour as much as he could into this kiss. Billy lashed out his tongue and thrashed with his teeth but Steve only replied with softly moving his jaw in time and allowing the boy to taste every inch of his month he claimed. He wasn’t going to fight back, especially against the voice in his head thinking of how much he loved the feeling of fire. Even Billy’s chin that looked so strong was soft under his fingers, even the muscles seemed to give with a gentle touch.

Steve didn't have much time to feel more before Billy was backing away. The lion leaned back on his heels and watched Steve from down the bridge of his nose. It was evidenced on his face that Steve did not give him the reaction he was looking for. Only a second ticked by, just as Steve let out a breath he was holding, before the audience erupted into cheering. Billy did it: he gave the gaggle the show they were looking for. Steve smirked at them and knew that he was a contender in his own sense, less like a lion and more like a ninja. Billy made a large production of wiping the back of his hand over his lips and bumping elbows with his friend sitting beside him.

Steve sat back cross legged on the floor and felt like he could see two large red velvet curtains drawing to a close. There were many things he wanted to say, and there was almost an awkwardness in the silence of the two. But nothing was spoken. The bottle was simply picked up and passed to the next player.

Amy- Ashley- Amber? was still stilling next to Steve and courageously ran her fingers over his hand and up his arm, pushing the sleeve of his sweater up as she went. Steve became aware how tight his muscles were drawn, he couldn’t even feel the way his veins were standing out. Breathing was hard when all he wanted to do was reach over and pull Billy back for another kiss.

“Let’s go someplace else?” She asked, “You want another beer from the kitchen?” Steve let himself be manhandled again and smiled so very cool as he agreed to another beer. They rose and walked away arms locked, Billy only glanced once as they walked away.

Steve drank another and made out with his classmate, her name did start with an A he remembered, only for a short time before he could feel exhaustion take its toll. She was upset so he let her write down her number before he left. Just her number and not her name so that’s very helpful.

When Steve finally made it outside into the cold air he let it get taken by a gust of wind. And almost like the paper he stumbled over to his burgundy car and fumbled around with his keys. Driving drunk was low on the list of dangerous super stupid decisions he had made that year. He was still trying with the keys when a heavy hand clapped over the roof of his car. With hazy eyes, Steve looked up to see Billy watching with amusement.

“How many have you drank tonight, King Steve?” He kept his voice low.

Steve sighed and returned to his keys. “7? Maybe 10? Don’t think it matters to you much, Hargrove. Thought you wanted me dead?”

Billy smiled as softly as his voice. “Dead,” he repeated, “nope. How am I supposed to kick your ass again on the court if you wrap this preppy shit around a tree?”

Steve sighed and threw his hands up. “Don’t insult the ride!” He slurred. “What are you even doing here, haven’t you had enough? Are you going to lecture me on safe driving or some shit? Give me a ride home? Turn me into Hopper and let me sit in the drunk tank?”

Steve was rambling so he stopped to take a breath, “Whatever you do I just don’t care anymore. It’s all bullshit!” He knew he was looking messy, but he couldn’t help it. Keeping up appearances was mentally exhausting and he couldn’t stand it a second longer.

Billy looked up at Steve, the smile gone from his kiss swollen lips and the fire almost gone from his brilliant blue eyes. Steve felt like he was looking into the ocean, dangerous and beautiful all at the same time, and it made him blush.

“Am I gonna lecture you? No. Turn you into Hopper? Tempting... but nah.” Billy sighed softly as he lifted himself from the side of the car. “But I am offering you a ride home, Harrington.”

Steve had a lot of weird things happen to him lately, but this is neck and neck with the weirdest. He took a long moment to just blink, his brown eyes sagged and glossy with beer. And he knew he was allowing his mouth hang open as he considered, and that was also something he wasn’t fully aware of, but he did notice how Billy’s eyes trailed down to them. Another second of consideration and Steve made his own show of shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah, okay, alright,” he let the words roll off his tongue almost all at the same time. “But can we stop and get like a burger or some shit?”

Billy smiled all the way up to his eyes. “Yeah, a burger or some shit sounds good.”

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve/billy #stranger things #harringrove fic #my fic

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 81

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Title & Song: Mardy Bum

Summary: Alfie is dealing with Gen's condition in his own way, by being an overbearing arse. Being blind to his behavior and the problems it's causing for everyone, the women of the house decide to do something to make him improve his coping techniques. Song is Mardy Bum by The Arctic Monkeys.

Warnings/Tags: Language. References to assault and violence. PTSD. Suffering/Physical Pain. Fluff. Mad Alfie. Grumpy Alfie. Tommy Shelby. Soft Gen. Aggie getting angry. (Like a teddy bear with a knife she is.)

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

Aggie stands in the doorway and sees Alfie nodding off again while sitting up in bed. He had done this constantly the past few days, his body and mind begging for sleep, but his heart not allowing it. He wouldn’t let Genevieve out of his sight. He wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t eat or do anything but hold watch over her like a dragon guarding his treasure. He was scaly and red just like the comparison, his words equal to fire as his mood was poorly to understate its severity.

He kept her company through her fits in her sleep, the same cycles of active dreams, both good and bad and the latter only increasing in frequency. Every time she would become restful, he became fearful. He worried her lack of upset was a sign she was slipping away again and he’d move to hold her if he wasn’t already, waking her and causing her pain. But despite the unhealthy paranoia he was revealing in this situation, every time Gen would be awake for a few moments, she would meet his gaze and gently touch his face before resting her head back against him with a smothered sigh. Never had so little of an acknowledgment given him so much feeling.

Aggie could see the signs of him breaking, knowing he would only get worse if he kept up this grueling schedule. It wasn’t only him she was worried about. Once Gen was well enough to get up and move around, and she was hoping that today could be the day for it, she knew he wouldn’t be in any state to help her much. The lack of rest had taken its toll on his body, looking and moving like a much older man. He needed to be strong for her in all aspects. Two people falling apart simultaneously would do no good to anyone. Especially with how Gen had responded to similar trauma in the past. Aggie was worried she’d act out. Alfie would have to serve as a hand of the law and hold fast rules of the house as a man if she did. If he was weak and desperate it would only lead to trouble.

With the appearance of Tommy, Arthur, and the children in tow that morning Aggie saw her chance to get Alfie back into working order.

“Morning Agatha.” Tommy’s cool voice coasted out with a nod of his head. Claire was already distracting the children with the maids and Arthur as they led them to the nursery.

“Forgive me for not exchanging pleasantries Mr. Shelby but as you can imagine things have been terribly tense around here as of late.” Aggie's tense face tells him all he needs to know.

“I do not have to imagine it Agatha, I’ve been through it myself.” He gives her an empathetic hand to her hunched shoulder.

“Might I ask you for a favor sir? One that might make Mr. Solomons angry but I’m at the end of my rope with him truth be told.” she lets out an exhalation, a bit of pleading in her eyes.

“You would not be the first and you will not be the last.” He muses. “What do you need?”

“Mr. Solomons is being most difficult. He won’t sleep or eat or leave. We’re more than capable of caring for Genevieve here but he refuses to let anyone near her, save Claire and me. Even to us, he won’t meet our eyes. Just watches over her like some gargoyle.” She answers with clear exasperation. “I was wondering if you thought you could talk him into letting us handle her and get her out and have him get some much-needed rest? He needs to be able to function as he had been. This seclusion is doing neither of them any good. I am relieved that you showed up as I was going to try to get her to the garden today.”

“I will make no promises Agatha but I will try. He’s a most stubborn man.”

“Thank you Mr. Shelby.” She responds with a bow. “Now I’m going to go check on the children.” She dismisses herself.

As Tommy makes his way down the hall toward Gen's room, he hopes she will be in good enough shape to argue with Alfie on the point of leaving her. He knew deep down that he also wouldn’t be leaving if he were in his position. He’d be drunk off his arse and just as mad as Alfie. But he didn’t have to know that.

He opens the door slowly, finding Alfie glaring directly into his eyes from across the large, gilded room. Tommy keeps his characteristic cool and walks towards him, not breaking his attempts at defended the sleeping woman next to him. Tommy blinks once, a polite bowing out and looks to Genevieve. She did look better. Under two weeks past since the incident and her color was coming back slightly in her cheeks, the bruises not as deep but now a vast array of colors and shapes all over her body.

“She looks better.” Tommy states with a flat delivery.

Alfie says nothing, only turns to look at her himself. Did she look better? All he saw was the hand shaped bruises on her body, the marsh and sea colors growing across her skin as they healed. But only superficially. It was hard to call her better when he’s spent the last few hours holding her hands to the bed to keep her from hurting herself.

“But you look like shit, Solomons.” He says with no smirk, eyebrow set in a nonaggressive stance.

“Oi you can fuckin’... piss off mate.” His low and ragged voice growls as he points a red, splotchy hand to the door.

“Might I suggest something? From a man that’s been through this... from both sides?” He tries a gentler approach, seeing the anger in his business partners eyes that he knew was only hurt disguised.

“Fuck no. Get out with ya so called fuckin' help. I’ve got her, yeah? Don’t need your fuckin advice. Ya couldn’t keep your wife alive why would I wanna listen to you?” He spits venom and Tommy sees now what Agatha was talking about. If he was in his right mind he wouldn’t have said that, but it didn’t help the upset it made bloom in Tommy’s chest.

“Look Alfie. You acting out isn’t going to help anyone. Certainly not you yeah? And not her.” He points to Genevieve laying with a flinching face in her sleep. “You think you’re taking care of her but you’re not. You’ll break soon. Mark my words. If you keep this up. Men, those like us weren’t meant to live this way. We can’t become obsessed with the things we swear we’ll protect. There has to be a line of self-preservation.”

“‘At’s fuckin rich comin' from you, Tommy.” He scoffs.

“When she needs you, truly. Her mind and body feeling not her own, you will need to know yourself with no room for question to help her. I’ve been where she is... where she’s goin’. It’s going to be a different sort of difficult now. And you need to be on your fucking toes for it. She was a hellcat before and it will only be worse with this medicine and her head.” He keeps his words stern but even. Wanting to show his seriousness but not have Alfie pull a gun he was sure was waiting just out of sight.

“I am bloody here. Ya got eyes innit ya?”

“Agatha has told me the truth whether you will or not.” He quirks an eyebrow at the man with a brow so low and hard his eyes were almost out of sight.

“None of them know anyfing. They let this happen, why the fuck would I trust them now?”

“No one LET it happen Alfie. It just happened. You were the one who pointed out the hypocrisy to me for us to be upset over things we deserve, things that happen to men like us. This is one of those things.”

Alfie is quiet and is eerily still, staring into Tommy.

“I believe you should let her out of your sight and get some air today. I’m here, Arthur and the children. Do her a world of good to see them.”

“Why does she have to be out of my sight?”

“Because you need to fucking sleep, Alfie. You look like hell and at least one of you need to have it together. And you’re fuckin’ fallin’ apart. I say that as a friend, as someone who cares about Genny. I don’t want her being looked after by a mad man who can’t even take care of himself. You need to get your life back in order Alfie. Falling apart helps no one. I’ve fuckin' done it. Didn’t help a fucking thing.” he says with an aggravated shake of his head.

Alfie huffs and then lets out a long sigh.

“I know she’s got her little potions and that, yeah? Take one. It’ll give you a few hours. She’ll be with us. She won’t be out of anyone’s sight.”

“Why are you tryin' to put me under? How do I know you aren’t trying something ya bloody gypsies.” He mutters with narrowed eyes, showing his growing paranoia.

“Because I went after her that day too. Because I was here to support your fucking proposal. Because I helped your men burn down half the bloody city.” He replies with an expression now showing his thinning patience.

“You weren’t there. I dinnit see you do nuffin'.” He retorts purely to only be difficult.

“Take it or fucking not Alfie, I don’t care. You’re being a right pain in the arse to everyone around you and will have everyone hating you again soon if you don’t recover. So get some fucking sleep yeah?” Tommy tells with a tight jaw and clear exasperation.

“I won’t be able to fuckin' sleep without it.” He grumbles and admits. Alfie blinks slowly, still glaring. “But you betta fuckin' swear it. If ANYFING happens to her you wake me!” he says angrily. Deep down, in his not sleep deprived functioning of his brain he knew Tommy was right. He didn’t have to admit it aloud though.

Gen stirs at the raising of his voice. “Mmmph.” she lets out, brow furrowing.

“Go on and get the old birds then.” Alfie pushes towards the door to send Tommy on his way. “Mornin’, love.” he says with a tone so distinctly opposite of his words with Tommy that the other man knew at least it was love that was causing him to act so out of character.

------

He had helped her get up and bathe, her sleepy face showing an acute lack of reaction to her environment that left him uneasy. But he knew the medicine was still in her system, her not having grown a resistance to the dose. He sends her off with her freshly washed hair and in a new gown before doing as he did her, and try to take care of himself. He takes a short bath, a quick scrub in all the ripe places before pulling on a loose shirt and trousers to lie down in, just in case he was needed he’d already be dressed.

Alfie begrudgingly takes the tonic. Not even a full dose, just enough to let his mind shut up long enough for him to get to sleep. Tommy had only convinced him because, despite his onerous behavior, he knew he was right. Alfie wasn’t above taking advice when it came from someone who knew what they were talking about. He knew Tommy most certainly knew the situation he and Genevieve found themselves in. As he lay alone in the dim light and quiet hush of the room, behind the closed ornate door to the bedroom, he finally allowed himself to exhale. With a face that still said, piss off despite being alone, his deep crows feet, the rolling hills of his forehead and brow settle as he shuts his eyes. He should’ve expected the dreams to find him as they did. All bad, all bloody and bitter. There are the fields of bodies, the trenches in sight as the explosions and gunfire whip by him as he dives among the duckboards for cover. The muddy mazes and the makeshift wooden slats turn into a hallway as he scrambles. The screams and explosions change to the sounds Genevieve made the day they rescued her and he searches desperately for her in the dark. He hears her and cannot find her, he screams for her and fights against the nothingness that surrounds him. Suddenly the cries stop, he’s in his home int he city, charging up the newly varnished stairs to his room to find their mutual friends standing over an empty bed.

“I’m sorry.” They all murmur and look at him with pity.

He tastes blood in his mouth, still covered in the filth of the trenches from earlier, hands on the bed and hitting it as if it would make something happen.

“She fought so hard.” Aggie says, sobbing into Claire’s shoulder.

“It was so sudden.” Claire whispers, shaking her head.

“If only you’d been there.” Tommy says, glaring into him.

“We’ll never forgive you for this.” Arthur growls.

“I told you to treat her better.” Polly sneers.

Alfie pants and growls, looking at them with wild eyes and sweat soaked skin.

“She’s gone Alfie. She’s dead. Because of you. It’s all your fault. You miserable old cunt.” Claire spits at him. “You were supposed to protect her.”

“Why didn’t you save me Alfie?” he hears her voice from behind him as he pivots and stares, sprawled on the bed as she’s in the doorway. One of her indulgent long sheer gowns in white, flowing and light around her body, lit up like the sun. Her face is solemn and hurt, her voice so timid it burns his chest to hear it.

“I did. I tried, love. Fuck Genevieve, I tried. I’m sorry.” he rushes out as he scrambles to her and his hands go through her.

“I’m gone, Alfie.” she shakes her head.

“No, no, you can’t be.” his hands reach out to nothing as she starts to fade.

The accusations and reminders of Gen’s demise are all shouted at him as he keeps desperately grabbing and calling out for her. His body pushed so hard against the hurt that he wakes himself, half in and out of sleep, still heavy underneath the effects of the tonic. He finds himself thrashing and yelling in her bed, through instinct he looks for her near him, and when she is not there his half woke mind panics.

“No.” he chokes out, her absence telling him just like earlier that she was certainly dead. -------

The edges of her world were fuzzy. The pain in her body could be felt, but it was as if it were far away. She moves slowly, Arthur's arms on her gently as they make their way to a stone bench in the garden. He’s personally thrilled with her progress, recalling the state Tommy was in and how couldn’t even move in the beginning. Granted, she hadn’t had so many obvious injuries, but Polly had explained to him that the injuries inside someone can be far greater than the ones on the outside when it comes to the mind. That he knew what it was like to have your mind out to get you, and he had always looked at those suffering with pity and empathy ever since. His eyes for Gen were no different in the afternoon sun. He says sweet praise as she moves with a limp, her ankle on the verge of healing now.

“There she is now.” he declares with outstretched hands her hands rest over her thin white robe on her thighs as she sits up on her own. She was a bit wobbly, granted, but she was managing. Aggie stood behind her and kept watch that she would stay upright. Once they saw she was stable enough, Tommy brings out Charlie by the hand as he oh’s and ah’s at the seemingly giant pieces of the garden.

“There’s Auntie Genny now, eh?” Tommy says with a soft tone, holding the boy back from charging at her as he normally would. With a happy squeal, Gen raises her head towards the boy's noises and as he approaches she slowly recognizes her favorite small human. Arthur beams as a smile slowly comes across her face, albeit a sleepy one, but it was a good sign to be getting anything out of her at this point. After a brief kiss of cheeks, Tommy suggests Charlie pick his Auntie some flowers, eager to please and get his hands on the overwhelming amount of color surrounding him he happily bounds away. Gen watches him shrink and disappear behind a hedge, her smile faltering as she recalls her dream, a wrinkle of her nose and a mood swing takes her as she rests on her hand with a pained sigh, her eyes once again vacant.

“What is it Genny?” Arthur gruffs out, taking her hand and gently rubbing her back, stimulating her enough to meet his eyes.

“She can’t talk yet, dear.” Aggie says, pulling the pen and paper out of her apron pocket. “Here you go darling, would you like to try to talk to us a bit?” she asks with kind eyes, putting the pen in her hand for her. Her grip is shaky at first, but it does respond and Arthur doesn’t hide his relief that she’s able to do such a thing. At least her brain was sending out the orders, even if her body was slow to follow them.

“The children.” she writes, looking into the distance.

“They were excited to see you, eh?” Arthur happily chirps in his deep comforting voice. “Little Ruby is down for a nap, long drive ‘n that. Linda has Billy up at the farm, he wasn’t feelin’ up to it poor lad.” he explains.

Gen shakes her head, her eyes not meeting his.

“Oh don’t feel bad about it, love, he’s just got a bit of stomach upset. Probably got into the sweets behind our back again!” he says happily with a laugh.

Gen slowly reaches out and puts a weak grip on Aggie’s forearm, the other hand lifting the paper and pushing it towards her again.

“She’s been asking about children after waking up.” Aggie says quietly, her hand tender on Gen’s face as she sees an unexplained pain behind her unfocused eyes.

“What’s she on about?” Arthur faces Aggie, but keeps his eyes on the disheartened Gen.

“We don’t know.” Aggie let’s out a sigh.

“Look here’s little Charlie. Here’s the boy now.” Arthur says trying to distract her.

Charlie had been blessed with his mother’s patience, as he surely hadn’t gotten it from his father. They sit in the garden, Charlie babbling to a reluctantly willing participant in Gen about flowers. She takes them one by one into her hands, forming a bouquet slowly, Arthur watching her receive and follow commands from the enthusiastic boy and rubbing her back as she was able to grip and respond with nods as the child spoke.

“She’s doing better.” Claire says, standing at the foot of the stairs with Aggie, watching the picturesque scene go down, Gen with a peaceful look on her face, Charlie happily babbling and tottering around in the high grass and jumping after butterflies.

“She’s asking about children again.” Aggie frowns. “But other than that yes.”

“The doctor told us there would be confusion and even hallucinations. For what she’s been through the subject doesn’t surprise me. Tommy mentioned it to me in confidence as well. Says he saw all sorts of things.”

“Well, that’s just wonderful.” Aggie says with heavy sarcasm that she doesn’t usually explore. “How are we to know if she’s doing any better in her mind if she’s bloody hallucinating.” she groans.

“It’s still too soon to tell. Once she’s off the medicine we’ll be able to know for sure.”

“But when will that be? Maybe never!” Aggie huffs.

“Don’t let Alfie’s poor mood rub off on you Ags.” Claire chuckles and pats her back.

“My apologies dear this whole situation is just a bit... overwhelming.” she admits her hands wringing together with worry despite the clear progress being made in front of her.

“I know. But we can do this.” Claire nods confidently. “Let’s try to enjoy it moment by moment shall we? Look at her, not pained in appearance or sound, following commands, responding, sitting like a little flower in her lovely white robes among her favorite things.” Claire’s hand sweeps out. “Our friends are here, she’s here, Alfie has finally shut the fuck up and went to sleep.” she laughs and Aggie grins.

“Thank Christ for that.” she rolls her eyes. “Bloody menace that man is. I thought he’d be the one to be the most helpful but I feel as if we’re babysitting him as well.”

“I believe he’s unaccustomed to such emotions. Despite his insistence that this is something that happens to people like them, I believe he’s racked with guilt. With rest, I believe he’ll get better. He loves her. Let’s try to remember that. It’s out of love and even if he is a clever one, he’s still just a man.” Claire says with a sigh.

“Not to us. He’ll be her husband, father of her children, man of the house. His name will be on everything. I just want him to be strong enough for her is all.” She rubs the bridge of her nose. “I pray he is but-“

Just then a roar erupts from inside the house. The unmistakable boom of Alfie echoing off the halls and out of the wall of open windows and patio doors to everyone in the garden.

“Fucks sake.” Claire groans, already having to eat her words.

“MR. SOLOMONS!” The girls inside call out over and over. “SHE’S ONLY IN THE GARDEN SIR!”

“WHAT DID YOU DO WITH HER? WHERE DID YOU TAKE MY GENNY?!” his voice shouts with malice spat at the innocent and fearful faces of the maids.

“SHE'S NOT DEAD SHES IN THE GARDEN!” One squeals, being shoved out of the way as he barges through every door in the house.

“Fucking hell.” Claire moans, moving fast up the stairs. “What the fuck is going on?” Claire demands from a scurrying maid.

“I don’t know!” She says with watery eyes from what were surely hurtful words from Alfie. “He took the lady’s tonic and laid down, then he started screaming and fighting in his sleep when he woke up and kept doing it! I don’t know! It’s like he’s on drugs!” One answers with shaking hands.

“The vial.” Aggie replies and hitches up her skirt to chase after the sounds in Genevieve’s wing of the house. “The man only drinks ceremonial wine and he’s gone and taken belladonna.”

With understanding clear on her face Claire laments and posts up on the back patio, ready for him to come her way. He’s either taken too much or doesn’t know he’s awake she assumes. Of course, he’d freak out when he woke and she wasn’t there.

“Alfie! She’s in the garden. GARDEN, ALFIE! GEN IS IN THE GARDEN!” Aggie shouts as he turns to see her in the doorway of Gen’s studio.

“SHE’S DEAD, WHAT DID YOU FUCKERS DO WITH HER BODY?!” he charges towards her.

She moves out of the way wisely. “GARDEN!” Aggie says and shoves him down the hall. “I see why he doesn’t bloody drink now.” she murmurs to herself, chasing after the stumbling lion as he slides down the hallway in his socks.

“C’MERE ALFIE!” Claire shouts, getting his attention, seeing in his face that he wasn’t all there. She herds him down the hall to the back patio where he sees her. Same as in his dream. All white and fluffy and soft, a face of confusion as their eyes lock across the path.

“Genny.” a whine escapes him as Arthur moves to protect her, he didn’t know what was going on, just that Alfie was acting like a rabid animal.

“Ah-?” she whispers, slowly moving towards him, holding her robe up and her face full of concern, the most alert anyone had seen her all day.

“Gen...Gen..” he says, powering down, his feet hitting heavy against the light stone landing, the vison of her, what he thought was a ghost making his head spin. The race of his blood, the haze his mind was in, the lack of sleep and the culmination of stress, thinking his love dead all hit him as he takes one more step and collapses against the ground like a tranquilized beast. Everyone stops and stares.

Claire is the first to get over the shock and rush his way, motioning her arm to Aggie as she comes through the doors. “He’s passed out the absolute ninny.” she rolls her eyes.

“What the fuck is this?” Tommy says rounding the corner and Arthur is still by the hobbling Gen’s side.

“Bad reaction to the sleep tonic I imagine.” Claire sighs, rolling him and propping him up, one of the male staff members coming to help her hoist him up.

“I’d say.” the maid's murmurs amongst themselves.

“Get her back into bed with him. I’ll not have this circus erupting again.” Claire orders.

“I only wanted him to get some rest.” Aggie pouts.

“You didn’t know he’d react this way, Agatha. It’s fine. As this beast likes to say, these things happen.” Claire grunts as she helps carry him back to their bed. “If he can’t handle a little of bubbies potion I see why he doesn’t drink now.” She snarks.

-----

Genevieve sits up in bed of her own accord for the first time since coming home. She sits with timid body language, hands in her lap as she keeps her eyes on the snoring man next to her.

“Perhaps opium would’ve been a better choice.” Tommy smirks as he stands with his hands in his pockets, Claire and Aggie rolling their eyes his way.

“At least he wouldn’t have broken the vase if he was on opium.” Aggie protests.

Claire grins at Aggie who was entirely over Alfie’s wild antics the past few days. “Best he stays away from anything now. Except her I suppose.” Claire pats Genevieve’s leg covered by her plush duvet as she ignores the conversation around her and watches the nuance of Alfie’s lip blubbing in his sleep. She reaches out, having grown impatient to touch him even though they had all been keeping watch only a matter of minutes. Everyone watches her with bated breath as her hand reached out, body turned just slightly which was a feat in itself, as she touched his face.

“Ah.” she whispers, leaning closer to him, fingers carding through his now fluffy and unkempt hair, long pieces across his forehead that reminded her of the feelings he used to bring out in her with his moments of unintentional boyish charm.

His strong sloped nose twitches, hearing his back crack and pop as he arches it and grunts. “Pet?” he murmurs, hand reaching up to touch hers, wondering if everything had been a bad dream for a blissful moment in time before opening his eyes. But when he accepts that he is in indeed in the less than perfect reality when Gen’s watercolor splotched soft face comes into focus. Neck still wearing a necklace of bruises, braces on fingers that he now felt under his hand as he gently kisses her palm and sighs. “What are you doin’ up, love? What ya need?” he begins before slowly sitting up himself.

Her face smiles and he gives her a sleepy one back, finding brief solace in her happiness to look at him still despite being a man, and men had done those terrible things to her. Once he sits up his eyes move away from her, and his eyes go wide, chin pushed into his neck as his face moves into a sharp scowl. “What in the fuckin' hell is this?” he asks looking at the people surrounding the bed. “Some fuckin' rest I’ll be gettin' with the lot of you fuckin hoverin’ like fuckin’ fly’s.” he complains loudly, lips pursed as he meets their eyes.

“He doesn’t remember.” Claire smirks.

“Remember what?” he barks.

Gen lets out a small huff of a laugh that takes all his attention.

“Was that a laugh? Ya havin’ a laugh are ya?” a falsely threatening brow but a smile on his face for the happy sound from her makes him put his arm around her and let her lie against him. “What’s your old man done so I can do it again if it makes you laugh, love.” he chuckles into her hair as she resumes her kitten-like behavior and nuzzles into his side.

“You had a bad reaction to the sleep tonic you took,” Claire explains. “You didn’t know what was a dream and what was reality and you stormed through the house shouting about her being dead and then passed out when you saw her in the garden.” The superior feeling Claire had to finally have one over on Alfie was clear in her taunting face.

“I fuckin’ wot? No I dinnit.” he denies, shaking his head, voice gruff and defensive.

“We all saw it.” Tommy adds.

“Well it’s your fault innit!” he says with a broad swipe of his big paw of a hand towards the smug looking man.

“How was I to know you couldn’t hold your drugs?” he gives a subtle grin.

“I don’t do that shite for a reason, yeah? It’s fuckin’ awful that stuff.”

“Well don't take belladonna again.” Aggie scolds with a shake of her head. “You scared the wits out of the maids.”

“Eh.” he shrugs. “Best they get a backbone yeah?” his tone was still defensive and everyone could see it on his face. He was a bit embarrassed. Gen puts her hand on his stomach and rubs the softness that lies beneath the linen of his shirt as she listened to his voice, that boom, and power that made her shut her eyes and know things were okay.

“You best get a backbone.” Aggie retorts, crossing her arms.

“Excuse you?” Alfie laughs.

“I’m serious! You’ve scared Genevieve, screaming and then passing out and calling her name. Then the maids, and us with your loud arse stumbling around the house like a bloody bull.” her voice has bite and Alfie’s tilted head shows his surprise.

“Agatha, love, I didn’t know you were so bitter.”

“Not bitter just tired, Alfie.” she murmurs. “I don’t want to have to worry about you. You’ve been a fucking mess since she’s been home and I don’t want you acting like a boy. She needs a man. We all need a strong man to be there for her. And you’ve been nothing but another burden in your behavior. Acting like everyone is out to get you in this house. Acting like you’re the only one that cares about her or can care for her. You aren’t the only one affected by this and it’s time you realized that.”

Alfie blinks slowly, Claire wearing a proud look on her face. “Language Aggie.” he chuckles.

“Well I’m very fucking serious!” she says with straight posture and furrowed brow.

“Thank you for sharing your feelings then Agatha.” Alfie gives her a nod, trying not to grin at the entirely nonthreatening angry face the older woman was wearing.

“I also agree with that. You can’t stay here holed up as you have been. There’s proof it’s making you mad now.” Claire snarks.

“What do you think, love?” he softly asks Gen, a scapegoat for his behavior he thinks. But she’s already asleep on his chest. “Oh fuckin’ ‘ell look at her.” he sighs, fingers stroking her hair softly. “How can I want to leave this?” he mutters before kissing her hair.

“You don’t have to want to. You have to. You have a business. People are going to talk if you just fuck off to stay at home. They’ll think you’re weak, Alfie.” Tommy says.

He knew he wasn’t wrong. “Fuckin’ up me arse the lot of ya.” he grumbles.

“We’re going to be if you don’t start getting out of this bed and work on being yourself again. She needs you to be you so she can remember how to be herself.” Claire says, leaning forward and speaking intensely with eye contact to Alfie’s still hesitant eyes. “Your fucking legs are going to stop working if you stay in here with her much longer like this.” she says with more humor, pinching his shin.

Alfie sighs, kissing Gen's forehead. “I’m not doin’ it because ya tellin’ me to. Let me make that fuckin’ clear.” he points at each with a low brow. “But for her. She needs someone out there to control things. People are gonna talk 'bout her. She’s got more to lose than me right now. And I will admit though, right, that I don’t wanna be shoutin’ and actin’ like some fuckin’ drunk in me own house in front of people.” he grunts.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, Alfie.” Claire groans. “We just need you to trust us and let her have her space. She can’t become dependent on you either. It’s not good for either of you.”

“Yeah.” he mumbles. “Not no little pups no more are we love?” he sighs and kisses her head. “Can’t stay in the love bubble forever as you say.” he continues speaking to her despite her state of consciousness. “She’d want me back out there.” he admits.

“Yes. Yes she would.” Claire nods enthusiastically. “She would want you healthy, handling your business. She wouldn’t want you to decline because of her.”

“‘N today was fuckin’ decline, innit?” he groans and rubs his head.

“Most certainly. You really showed your arse today Alfie.” Aggie says still pouting and peeved.

“Alright Ags. Christ.” he chortles. “We’ll take it slow today, yeah? Call up Ollie and have ‘im over for tea. We’ll figure this out.” he answers quietly with authority as he looks down at Genevieve. “We’ll get back on track tomorrow. ‘Cause I feel right pissed wif ‘is in me system still. Fuckin’ embarrassin’.” he admits and shakes his head. “One day at time, yeah?” he speaks softly, kissing her hair again and taking a deep breath of her lavender scent. “Same as you little flower. Not gonna block the sun for ya to bloom with my big loud arse around all the time.” he beams and shuts his eyes and she mewls under the contact, nose mushed into his side. “One day at a time, love.”

Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

@jaegeeeeer @cosettewinchester @lookuptheskyisfalling-blog@brianaisasongbird @cry5t4l-w4rri0r @jess2464 @hardygal69 @thegarrisonpublichouse @a-flock-of-angry-pigeons @pootle @negansdirtygirl22 @musingsby-night @shine-dont-shadow @inkinterrupted @vale0413 @emerald-bijou @elaenom @give-jack-a-lightsaber @ultrablackwidower @tinastarkandco @arrowswithwifi @marvelgirl7 @they-are-not-just-stories   @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes @alitheamateur @gold-trashbag

#Alfie Solomons #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fic #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons x ofc #alfie solomons imagines #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons fan fiction #alfie solomons angst #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons fluff #young alfie solomons au #peaky blinders au #peaky blinders fan fic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #tom hardy #tommy shelby #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x oc

[ruby-whistler]

(quicksandblock) hi! I just left you a giant wall-of-text response on your Dream post, and though I think it came across well enough, I just want to state my lack of hostile intent over here as well lol. I know stuff like this that people feel strongly about can get very tense so I just wanted to make doubly certain you know I'm not trying to pick a fight or anything. it kind of sucks that I feel like I need to clarify that but that's fandom culture for you sometimes :P

also, I would love to talk to you about Dream characterization. I think I disagree with you on a lot of different points and I love his character, so I'm very interested in understanding your perspective!

hey, hello! found a c!dream enthusiast/enjoyer, that’s cool, hi! :]

[copied part i put in front of each reply, hence different capitalization]

Alright, so first as a quick disclaimer, I’m going to put a summary of the original post’s points, just to ensure that we’re on the same page;

The post does say:

- don’t dehumanize c!Dream because it continuously hurts people who relate to and/or sympathize with him, also dehumanization in general is an inherently wrong mindset

- don’t attack people who sympathize with him because he’s a victim of abuse besides other things

The post never says:

- you cannot hate c!Dream and not sympathizing with him is wrong

- the things c!Dream has done are to any degree excused

- don’t dehumanize c!Dream because he’s a good person

- people who dehumanize c!Dream are real life abuse apologists

If you read the post and didn’t get these points from it, i advise you to reread it as I made pretty much all of these abundantly clear.

[end of disclaimer]

i never said anyone could infringe on his human rights! i… literally never said that! i said “they ignore” when characters do it, but that was a run-on sentence, i get how that might’ve been easily misunderstood. but yes, he’s a fictional character, i’d never said people could actually hurt him or anything in that sense.

the thing is, i still find them saying they enjoy it… wrong? the people yelling in tommy’s chat for c!dream to hurt him more were freaking victim blaming pricks, and if what they did was the widespread fandom opinion it would be hurting actual people with trauma. i ask people to look at the c!dream situation with the same severity, because it’s actually happening and it’s highly disturbing, not just from principle, but because of what it leads to within the community.

sorry for comparing his situation to c!tommy, but narratively i believe the prison arc is a deliberate parallel to exile, and comparing his situation to someone they’ve not dehumanized seems to be the only way to knock sense into some people.

i am happy you don’t seem to be one of the people who dehumanize him. you’re not the target audience of this post - neither are abuse victims who project onto him. i know people who c!tommy reminds of their abuser (because of personality traits), or even c!quackity, that’s fine. they’re totally free to hate their respective character, of course, without being,, actually right about them. that being said, majority of this fandom is dehumanizing c!dream and being mad at people sympathizing with him “on behalf of the abuse victims”, not actual victims themselves, and by doing this they are unknowingly hurting other people rather than helping anything, and spreading misinformation as well as making a lot of fans in general uncomfortable. i believe this is something that needs to change in the community.

hating him is fine, but group-based dehumanization in my mind is not. if you go on twitter and search “c!dream” and see 100 people saying they wish the abuse victim you project onto is hurt more (this is not a twitter thing, c!dream tag is the same thing, a majority of the crit is untagged but it,, doesn’t really matter because even tagged hate riles up more people) that freaking sucks and is something that the community needs to work on, not shoved under the rug and pretend it wasn’t there because some people tag it.

“the abuse victims who are hurt by people saying they should be sympathetic towards Dream are in fact just as hurt as the abuse victims who relate to Dream and are hurt by people saying his evil.”

this is not wrong. it’s right actually, but i’m not talking about this fandom calling him evil/unable to be sympathized with/irredeemable. i mean, that’s hurtful dehumanization as well, but this community doesn’t “say he’s evil” it “says he deserves to keep being horribly abused and/or die”.

and… i wasn’t talking about/saying abuse victims should sympathize with him either? i’ve said like five times that people can hate him as much as they want, but dehumanization is another thing. it’s the majority of this community (this post wasn’t targeting abuse victims in the slightest) taking away his positive human qualities, hence believing he doesn’t deserve human rights, and turning him into some sort of punching bag or personification of evil, which i find deeply disturbing since he’s being related to by abuse victims, and also blatantly incorrect to the character.

so, you’d be right, if the situation was what you described. it… really isn’t. the dream smp fanbase isn’t populated by abuse victims in any corner. it’s two small groups, one of them hurt (undeservingly) by a few and the other one hurt (no more or less undeservingly) by a majority of the fandom without anyone batting an eye.

and this post isn’t even about abuse victims in the first place; it’s about dehumanization. while its impact plays a big role in why i wrote this, things like these being widespread in the fandom makes so many people uncomfortable or pressured not to sympathize with a recently made sympathetic character that they might (but could not) relate to. relating to him myself, i might not have a say in this, but my compassion in general made me switch over to the c!dream sympathetic people, not anyone in the community or projection.

the results i relayed here weren’t the only results of the survery. people mentioned pandora’s vault as their reasons for being dream apologists,, over and over and over again. a lot of them mentioned the fandom response specifically.

it’s making the fandom not only unsafe to a small group of traumatized people, but also fans in general, who are equally as important to feel comfortable. hell, the reason dream apologists are such a tight-knit community that accepts little to no outside feedback is because of the hatred that is endlessly nurtured outside, that makes people feel anxious or not safe just for sympathizing with a victim of abuse.

i myself find this a problem that people should attempt to change beyond using crit tags more. feel free to not agree with that, but a lot of affected people do.

i agree the disc finale was actually cathartic! well, that’s a lie, i used to hate c!dream’s guts before that but that was the very instance where i saw a person behind the mask and went “oh, this is a whole mess isn’t it”, but it was,, cathartic to a lot of other people that didn’t use to have intense empathy to inanimate objects as children djskdjsk (i was a weird kid and still am, don’t mind that)

do you know what is cathartic? when a dog terribly bites a child, gets kicked away and gets put in a cage. do you know what isn’t cathartic? …that dog getting repeatedly beaten, starved and abused while trapped in said cage. even in fiction, and i say that as someone who was terribly bitten by a dog.

i don’t mind fictional characters suffering - frick, angst is my jam, i’ll write a character dying over and over again and have fun, but people justify that or make fun of people who don’t by saying openly that they enjoy it,, because he’s done bad things.

here comes the double standard. the exile arc wasn’t cathartic just because tommy burnt down a house, because hell, that wasn’t fair retribution. same goes for dream.

there is a difference between enjoying dark media (something i do frequently and is something i like doing) and open dehumanization and often normalized harassment of people who don’t do the same or condemn that. that is something that in my mind shouldn’t be a mainstream thing in the community.

to be fair, people saying an abuse victim no longer being hurt is “bad writing” or “insensitive” as i’ve seen people say would probably piss me off, but i’m,, not going to harass them. maybe a passive-aggressive vague-post if enough big accounts do it, but i think that’s justified. feel free to disagree - i still respect abuse victims who wouldn’t like that, but people who just don’t want the writers to humanize a character they’ve dehumanized will probably grind my gears.

this community,, isn’t working like this. i wrote this because people are repeatedly being hurt by the community or feel bad in it because of widespread opinions and dehumanization of a character that is as of late written to be sympathetic to the audience. that’s not a disagreement, the people who are actually sympathetic are a minority in the fandom, which would be fine with me, if they weren’t constantly invalidated, triggered and harassed as a direct result of the dehumanization discussed in this post.

besides the fact that the principle of dehumanization applied to c!dream is wrong - and if people find themselves doing that, it’s good for them to find a way to realize that, such as this post, because projection =/= dehumanization, and this post is targeting one, not the other - this is why i wrote this post. i still believe my points are valid and important for this fandom to consider.

you know, we could talk about the characterization right now - but after this i’m going onto a two month long hiatus for the sole purpose of studying the character. i’m not joking, this is what i’m dedicating my summer to. since i’m also closing my asks because of this, i can write this down and @ you when i’m done? :D i’d love to talk about him but i’m going to have so much more evidence after this, so maybe we can put this off for a while if you don’t mind! of course feel free to continue the dehumanization debate in a string of reblogs since it’s pretty much a different debate entirely.

( @zrenia @caketexturepack just tagging some people who responded to your response and might be interested in the continuation of the debate - also curious anon i saw your two asks i was just busy djsjdks please don’t spam about people who replied to me, i have a bad memory but i write this stuff down, actually )

#my asks #discourse #tw dehumanization #tw abuse #tw torture #tw animal abuse #long post

[kingkeerys]

the art of chasing ♔ billy hargrove [four]

concept: steve has a female best friend and billy has taken it upon himself to flirt with her just to piss steve off. that’s it. that’s the plot. [vol. 4]

a/n: so this part ended up being longer than i expected so i’m splitting it in half. the second part should be out sometime tonight! enjoy xoxo

if you really wanna know what i want in a guy,

well i’m lookin’ for a dream on a mean machine

with hell in his eyes.

#5

Apparently Steve’s confrontation with Nancy didn’t go anywhere.

Annie got through all of her homework and even her chores before he called her. By that point it was too late to go to the movies anyway, but Annie hadn’t even been concerned about that. When Steve finally got around to calling her he sounded preoccupied and distracted. Not unlike him as of late, but it didn’t make much sense considering he hadn’t even talked with Nancy in the first place.

“How’d it go?” she had asked, clutching the landline between her ear and shoulder as she helped clear the table from dinner.

“What?” Steve had replied, like he’d been spacing out.

“With Nancy,” she’d clarified.

“Oh,” he’d laughed and even that had sounded off. “It didn’t, actually. She wasn’t home.”

“Oh,” Annie had frowned. So one of her theories had played out after all – Nancy wasn’t home, which probably meant she was spending time with someone else. Three guesses who. “Have you been home all day?”

“Uh…” there was some shuffling on the other line. “Yeah, just trying to catch up on… homework.”

Annie’s eyebrows had arched. “Steve Harrington doing homework? Is the world ending?”

“Ha ha,” she could picture him rolling his eyes at her. “Actually, I’m – I’m beat, Ann. I think I’m gonna turn in, make it an early night.”

“Are you alright?” Annie had paused near the sink, skin wrinkled between her brows. “You sound... weird. Did something else happen while you were out?”

“What? No,” he’d laughed that weird, emotionless laugh again. “No, everything’s fine, Ann. Don’t worry about it.”

“Why do you keep saying my name like that?”

“Like what, Ann?”

“Like that,” she’d gripped the phone in her hand. “You’re acting strange. What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m just tired,” he’d sighed, seeming exasperated but trying not to come across that way. “I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

Annie was frowning deeply.

“Okay,” she’d said hesitantly. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

The line went dead before she even had the chance to pull the phone away.

So it’d been a really weird conversation.

And she wasn’t even the slightest bit convinced that something else hadn’t gone down. She just couldn’t understand why he wasn’t telling her. It was out of character for Steve to keep things from her, not that he wasn’t entitled to a private life. He’d never led her to believe that if it was something important he wouldn’t tell her, so she figured whatever it was, it was something he just wanted to handle on his own. Or something he would tell her about in his own time.

So for the time being she let it go. She went about her nightly routine as usual, read a little bit in her bed, and then went to sleep.

The following day she got up at around nine, showered, ate breakfast, and watched a little TV with her parents. She expected to get a call from Steve around noon, as was their usual routine, to plan something to do for the day. He’d probably apologize for the phone call last night, maybe tell her what was going on, and then they’d continue on with their day as normal. Except she never got a call. Annie was a natural worrier, an irritating habit she no doubt inherited from her mother, so almost immediately she was afraid that something was wrong.

She swallowed down her concerns, choosing to tag along with her mother to the grocery store to occupy herself and they ended up running a few errands in town which thankfully took her mind off it. But when she got home and asked her father if she had any missed calls, he told her no.

It was around three in the afternoon at this point and again, Steve was entitled to a private life, but ever since the falling out with Tommy and Carol they’d spent pretty much every waking moment together outside of school. A break in the routine was off-putting to say the least because it was so abrupt. She’d expect it if he’d gotten back together with Nancy because if he wasn’t spending time with Annie he was more often than not with his girlfriend. But he wasn’t with Nancy – at least, as far as she knew.

Maybe he went back to her house and they were able to talk this time, she reasoned. It would make sense.

So she didn’t worry. Until six rolled around and by that time the sun had already set considering the time of year, leaving the sky black and the weather cool. To give herself peace of mind, Annie dialed the Harrington’s house. No answer. She slammed the phone onto the receiver with a bit more force than necessary, worrying her bottom lip.

“There a problem?” her father asked in his recliner, peering at her over his newspaper with his steaming cup of evening coffee at his side.

“Steve hasn’t called today,” she announced. He raised an eyebrow.

“Was he supposed to?”

“Well no,” she huffed through her nose. “It’s kind of this unspoken rule that he calls every day and we do something. But I haven’t heard from him at all today.”

Her father shrugged. “Maybe he’s just busy. Richard probably had him trimming the hedges again or something.”

“All day?” she asked skeptically. He shrugged again.

“They got a lot of hedges.”

“His parents are out of town,” Annie stated, derailing that theory completely.

“Again?” at her nod her father frowned and shook his head disapprovingly. “Those people. Never around long enough to see their son’s hair grow.”

“Maybe I should go over there,” Annie suggested, mostly to herself. Her father still heard her.

“I wouldn’t worry,” he tried to reassure her. “I’m sure he’s fine. The two of you ain’t gotta be attached at the hip.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she replied sarcastically. He simply smiled at her before returning to his newspaper.

She made her way into the kitchen, grabbing a tan coat with fleece interior off the holder by the door as she went. She pulled it one as she stepped into the kitchen where her mother was scrubbing dishes at the sink, red apron still tied around her neck and waist. She always forgot to take it off.

“Hey Mom, can I borrow the car?”

“Not tonight,” her mother said, voice muffled by the running water. “It’s low on gas.”

“I’m not going far,” Annie pressed. Her mother glanced at her over her shoulder.

“Do you have gas money?”

Annie’s shoulders slumped.

“No,” her mother gave her a ‘then stop asking’ look and she sighed. “What about Dad’s car?”

“It’s at the shop.”

“What?” Annie ran a tired hand down her face. “Okay fine, I guess I’ll just walk there.”

She made for the front door but her mother stopped her short.

“Wait, wait, wait – where are you planning on going at this hour?”

Annie paused at the front door. “Steve’s house. I just want to check on him and see if he’s alright.” At her mother’s unconvinced look she added for good measure, “His parents are gone. He’s all alone in that gigantic house for the second time this month.”

Her mother sighed. “Alright, be back by nine.”

Annie smiled and nodded before throwing the door open, slipping her shoes on right before closing the door behind her. The cold air bit at her cheeks and she rubbed her hands together before trekking down their pathway to the sidewalk, turning left and heading in the direction of Steve’s house.

She glanced up at the night sky as she walked, admiring the sparkling stars that hid behind the canopy of the tall forest trees. She made her way down the side of the road, keeping off the pavement in case of incoming cars.

Steve didn’t live very far from her – it was only about a five-minute drive, and twenty minutes or so of walking, but it was enough to differentiate the quality of houses between them. Steve was raised in a much wealthier family than Annie was, which was noticeable by the clothes they wore.

It never made a difference to Annie if he wore name-brand clothing because at least he didn’t act like he was better than everyone else. Somehow through his Mom and Dad’s neglectful parenting, he came out pretty level-headed. Annie was grateful for that. Staying at his house, watching movies on their large TV and raiding their pantry that was the size of her kitchen? Well, that was just a bonus.

She stepped further into the grass when she heard the guttural roar of a car getting ready to pass her. She kept on walking even as the car slowed down, its headlights illuminating her from behind and casting a shadow of her figure in the grass. Hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she tensed, her stride quicker now that she realized someone was actually pulling up to her. Was she going to be kidnapped? Was she going to be Will Byers all over again, disappearing into the forest for days with no trace?

“Hey!” someone shouted from inside the car. Annie halted immediately. She recognized that voice. She turned slowly, blinking through the blinding headlights as the car finally stopped next to her. She bent down to squint through the open passenger window. “The hell are you doing out here?”

Billy Hargrove was leaning forward on his console and she saw her reflection in his sunglasses.

Instead of answering his question she found herself asking one in return. “Why are you wearing sunglasses if it’s nighttime?”

She couldn’t be sure but the way his lips thinned suggested he rolled his eyes at her.

“Have you seen Max?” he then asked. Apparently they were playing a game of twenty questions.

“Who?”

“Max. Red hair, skateboard, annoying as hell. Ring a bell?”

She did sound familiar. If Annie was correct, Max was Billy’s younger sister – though they didn’t look anything alike, whatever that was about – that she saw riding with him to school a few times. He never got along with her which Annie couldn’t understand. From what she saw the girl seemed very sweet. Then again, this was Billy she was talking about, who didn’t seem to get along with anyone respectable.

“No I haven’t,” Annie said, wrapping her arms around her chest. “Is she missing?”

“Snuck out,” Billy said, his jaw clenching.

“I hope you find her,” Annie offered a careful smile to which Billy ignored. “Have you seen Steve?”

“No,” Billy replied, as if insulted with the prospect. “Why, you forget to put a leash on him?”

Annie sighed in irritation. “It’s not like that, okay? I just haven’t heard from him at all today. I was thinking about heading over to his house, or maybe Nancy’s to see if he’s there,” she added as a last minute afterthought.

“Oh,” a slow smirk curved up his lips. “Think he and Wheeler are getting frisky?”

Annie rolled her eyes. “I don’t care, I just want to make sure he’s alright.”

“You know, Max hangs around those little shits he babysits,” Billy noted and Annie chose not to comment on the derogatory remark. “One of ‘em is Wheeler’s brother, right?”

It took Annie a second to connect the dots. “You think maybe she’s at the Wheelers’ place?”

Billy didn’t directly respond to that. “You know where they live?”

Annie’s brows wrinkled before she pointed down the road. “Yeah, on the cut-off down there at the right. First street on your left, they’re the two-story house at the bottom of the hill.”

Billy grinned and gave her a mock salute. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

He revved the engine but before he could take off Annie quickly stepped forward and gripped the base of the passenger window.

“Wait!” at Billy’s slow glance in her direction she quickly asked, “Can I tag along with you?”

Billy’s face remained impassive. “Um, no.”

“What, why?” Annie balked before waving her arms. “I don’t have a car and it’s freezing out here!”

“Sounds like a personal problem.”

“It’s only a couple blocks away,” Annie pressed. When Billy made no indication of replying, she bit the inside of her cheek. “Please?”

“What’s in it for me?”

Annie’s mouth opened and closed. “The warm reminder that you’ve done a good deed for someone?”

“Pass,” he denied. Annie groaned and tilted her head back, the grating sound of the idling engine threatening to give her a headache.

“What do you want?”

Billy shrugged with a casual grin. “Make me an offer.”

Annie mutely shook her head. She couldn’t believe she was in this situation. How was it that Billy Hargrove had suddenly materialized into her world, becoming an almost constant in her day-to-day life? What had she done to deserve that? Was it some sort of karma? Had she pissed off some higher power?

She heard a few click-clacks and then the heater inside his car whirred to life, almost immediately fogging up the windshield.

“Mmm,” he hummed, licking his teeth as he smirked over at her. “Sure is warm in here.”

Annie pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest again, mostly to retain the warmth in her coat. She stared at him for a few seconds in contemplation, almost immediately regretting the thought that passed through her mind.

“I’ll go to the party with you,” she finally said. Billy arched an unconvinced dark eyebrow from beneath his sunglasses. “If you take me to the Wheelers’ I’ll go to the party with you. It’s tonight, right?”

He pulled his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, his blue eyes flashing at her. “Seriously?”

She swallowed down the urge to laugh it off and pretend like she never said anything. She was too far in and she was beginning to lose feeling in her toes, even through her socks and shoes.

“Seriously.”

He grinned widely at her and pushed the sunglasses back up his nose before reaching across to unlock the passenger door.

“Get in.”

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things imagine #dacre montgomery

[the-mere-queer]

In My Dreams

Oliver didn’t believe in “love at first sight” but he might reconsider now. Olivarry Week Day 4. Read on AO3 also.

The club vibrated with the power of the bass. Flashing neon lights moved across the sea of bodies on the dance floor. It undulated with the hypnotic sound blasting from the speakers.

Oliver Queen watched the mass move from his seat at the long bar while sipping his whiskey. He had come with Tommy and Laurel who were in the middle of the mass, enjoying the Friday night and the sense of freedom the night brought. He had lost sight of them considering everybody and every decoration seemed to be dressed in blue. Considering the club was called The Blue Beetle, it wasn’t that surprising, but his friends seemed to blend into the blue waves and get lost in it.

Another sip, and his eyes moved on from the sea and looked out on the edges. Tables and Booths scattered the sides around the dance floor, small groups either sitting or standing, all dressed in some shade of blue.

Then his eyes caught a flash of red and he was drawn to it.

A tall lanky man walked toward a booth carrying two glasses in his hands. He wore a cherry red leather jacket that hugged his lean form perfectly. He stopped and handed one of the drinks to a girl sitting at the booth. The booth held five people total. Red jacket, the dark-skinned girl he had given the drink to, a blond guy who had an arm around the girl, a guy with long black hair, and a girl with wavy auburn hair.

Oliver didn’t know why he continued to stare. Maybe it was the jacket a bright contrast to its blue surroundings. Maybe it was the guy himself, long lean limbs, brown hair styled messily, a smile that lit his whole face. He could imagine those lips kiss-bruised, could imagine those legs wrapped around his waist, could imagine that hair so messy from sweat. He could imagine taking him in a bed and never thinking twice

Oliver continued to watch the group as they talked, laughed, even sang along to the music. He didn’t know what they were saying but they seemed content to just stay there and talk.

Then the guy looked out from his bubble of friends and scanned the club until Oliver caught his eye. His smile shrank a little and his head tilted in curiosity. Oliver hastily gulped the rest of his drink down and turned away back to the bartender, gesturing to refill his glass.

Damn it. He’s been caught staring at a stranger. An attractive stranger, sure, he’d just been staring. Where had his flirting skills gone? He should have sent over a drink, or walked over and asked to dance, or something. What was wrong with him?

Once the glass was refilled, he gulped it down quickly trying to shake off his nerves. So, he’d been caught staring, that doesn’t mean he couldn’t pull out the charm. He’d go over and ask the man to join him on the dance floor, flash a crooked smirk, and be his cool, confident self. Then they would find themselves in his apartment, rolling around in the sheets, then parting ways never to see each other again.

He finishes the glass and turns to stand up only to stop. The guy wasn’t at the booth anymore. His friends were still there but the cherry red jacket was gone leaving the table a little darker.

A throat cleared to his left, and he turned to look over. There it was. Hugging that long torso and highlighting everything about the man. Green eyes shining hopefully at him.

“I noticed you looking at me and I figured I could come over,” the guy said barely loud enough to be heard over the pulsing beats. Oliver just stared, not usually one to be caught off guard. He looked the guy up and down repeatedly, taking in as much as he can.

The guy waited for him to respond then looked over to the booth he was sitting in before. Olive glanced over and saw the guy’s friends standing as if to leave.

“Can I get a pen?” he heard the guy ask. Looking back, he saw the bartender hand over a pen. The guy wrote on a napkin, returned the pen, and turned back to Oliver holding the napkin.

“My friends and I are leaving, but I wanted to give you this.”

Oliver took the napkin and looked down to see a phone number written on it.

“Why?” he asked, looking back up. The guy looked down embarrassed.

“Would you believe ‘love at first sight’?”

Oliver stared at him. “There’s no such thing,” he responded. The guy just chuckled.

“Maybe, maybe not, but it doesn’t matter,” the guy said backing away with a smile shining brightly.

Oliver watched him back away until he turned and followed his friends out of the club.

Oliver looked down at the napkin in his hand. Ten numbers in an order that would give him access to the handsome man. But was it worth it? Did Oliver want to try to start an actual relationship? The last few hadn’t ended well.

“Ollie!” Tommy shouted in his ear as he and Laurel came back. “We’re headed out, you coming?”

“Yeah,” Oliver answered, folding the napkin and putting it in his pocket.

~

They meandered their way back their apartments, Oliver being last as he was the least intoxicated. During the block between Tommy’s and his apartment, his mind wandered back to the napkin.

“Would you believe ‘love at first sight’?”

Lust? Yes.

Like? Plausible.

But love? Could you really just let someone into your most vulnerable of places after just one look? Could you really want to just make someone happy, just so that they’re happy? Could you really want someone for more than just physical attraction after barely a conversation?

The ridiculousness of the idea put Oliver off the notion. If the guy wanted something more then what’s the point of calling him? There wasn’t going to be more, because Oliver didn’t want more.

He closed the door to his apartment and locked it behind him. Slightly stumbling, he made his way to his bedroom, stripping off his clothes as he went.

When he pulled his phone from his pocket, the napkin fell out and fluttered to the floor. Oliver stared at it as he tossed his pants somewhere. The effort it would take to throw it away wasn’t worth doing it tonight, so Oliver just left it where it was and crawled into his bed.

He fell asleep to the thought of long legs, green eyes, and a red leather jacket.

~

Oliver danced in the crowd not giving a flying fuck how he looked. It just felt so good to just let everything go and get washed up by the sound. There were bodies dancing around him, but only one was pressed against him. He looked and saw green eyes staring at him, shining hopefully. He wrapped his arms around Oliver’s neck and pulled him closer.

Oliver felt leather glide over his cheek and saw the jacket practically glowing in the sea of blue. Oliver found himself pressed up against the man wanting nothing more than to be closer. Oliver put his hands on the slim waist and held the beautiful man there. Their clothes were still on but Oliver never felt more naked in his life.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” the man whispered into his ear.

Oliver pressed closer and breathed into his ear, “I didn’t before I met you.”

~

Oliver drifted awake, still feeling the leather sliding across his cheek, still feeling the long body pressed against him. He could still hear that voice whispering into his ear.

Oliver had never woken up more content than that. As the sunlight filtered through he felt lighter. A small smile crept its way on his face, joy just dispersing the haze of waking up.

He pushed himself into a sitting position, looking out the window.

He remembered everything of his dream. He dreamed they had danced all night. The sea of people evaporating until they were the only two left, and they kept dancing, never letting go of each other, and never wanting to do more than just hold each other.

He looked down at the napkin, still where it had fallen the night before. He picked it up and grabbed his phone. 11:23 am. He punched in the number then typed a message.

Coffee? Jitters on Main Street?

He waited a minute before the reply came.

Who is this?

Oliver debated how he should respond to that. Should he say his name? No, they hadn’t told each other their names. Say it was the guy from last night? He’d probably met a bunch of guys last night. Then he realized there was one way to know.

Love at first sight?

The time between that and the reply felt like a lifetime.

12:30 work?

The smile that split across Oliver’s face felt wider than a mile.

~

12:35.

He’s not coming.

Oliver sat at a table a Jitters facing the door, constantly glancing at his phone. He reminded himself again that not everyone shows up ten minutes early to everything and traffic would be bad seeing as it’s lunch time.

That didn’t stop his leg from bouncing.

12:36.

He’s not…

There he was walking through the door. His hair slightly more combed and the jacket shining like a beacon. He scanned the restaurant until his gaze fell onto Oliver. The smile that appeared was life changing. He held up a finger then moved to the counter to order. Oliver watched him the whole time. Watched his long legs carry him through the space, watched his hands slip in the pockets of his jacket, watched his smile soften to a more content smile.

Oliver couldn’t believe himself. Last night, this man was nothing more than a conquest, a bedmate for a night. Now, all Oliver saw was a partner, sitting on the couch watching ridiculously bad movies, in the kitchen trying to make dinner and not burn down the whole place.

He saw possibility.

Then man sat across the table from him, placing his steaming mug down.

“Hi,” he greeted with a smile. “I’m Barry. Barry Allen.”

Oliver felt his own lips tug up into a smile. “Oliver Queen.”

Barry’s eyes widened but didn’t say anything, just taking a sip from his mug. Oliver picked his up and watched Barry over the rim.

“So,” Barry set his mug down and looked Oliver right in the eye, “‘love at first sight?’”

Oliver chuckled remembering the night before. “Maybe or maybe not.”

“Last night, you seemed pretty adamant that it was ‘not,’” Barry reminded, smirking over his mug. “What changed your mind?”

Oliver looked down at the mug in his hands. How would he explain?

“You did,” he finally said. He looked up and saw Barry’s confused look, coffee mug halfway down to the table.

Oliver continued, “For a while, I decided that it would be best not to really open myself up to anyone. I always messed things up somehow. So, for years I hook up with random people who I never saw again.”

Oliver looked right into Barry’s green eyes, making sure he understood what he was about to say.

“Then last night, I saw you and I felt connected to you. I thought it was just the usual ‘hot guy, let’s have sex’ thing, but you didn’t. You walked over, gave me your number, then walked out. You didn’t want sex, you wanted to connect.”

He looked back down to his coffee. He felt a flush rise to his cheeks at the thought of what he was about to see.

“I went home, sure that I was never going to call you. But my dreams had other plans.”

He heard Barry’s mug settle on the table, but he refused to look up yet.

“I dreamed we were dancing at the club, and that’s all we did was dance. It felt like we connected on a whole different level. Not sexual, not emotional, not even personal. It felt almost… metaphysical. I woke up from that feeling happier than I have in years and that was just after a couple sentences of conversation. I didn’t even know your name, but I wanted to know everything about you.”

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry, that was probably more than you wanted on a first date.”

He felt a hand nudge his chin up. He saw Barry looking at him intently. Searching his face for something. Then he smirked.

“I was the one who said, ‘love at first sight,’ remember?” Barry placed his hand on one of Oliver’s hand, and the smirk morphed into a genuine smile. “You still called – or well texted –  and after I said that. Without even introducing myself. I spent half the night, overthinking the fact I had said that. I second guessed myself after the fact. I was so sure you would never use my number after that. Yet, here we are. Maybe or maybe not, but does it matter now?”

Oliver took in everything; the way Barry talked so soft and kind, the way smiled like it was the best thing in the world, the way looked at Oliver.

Oliver flipped his hand to grab Barry’s and answered, “No. All that matters now is right now.”

Barry’s smile grew and his hold on Oliver tightened.

“That’s all that matters.”

#olivarryweek2017 #olivarry #barry allen #oliver queen #fandom weeks