#also yeah i edited grace in green what about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

husbandhoshi · 2 years

Text

just a moment with you

pairing: hoshi x gn!reader

wc: 3.8k

summary: after a series of disasters, you find yourself on a long-winded detour from your senior trip with kwon soonyoung, local life of the party and the boy you may have just a little tiny crush on.

or the one where you fall in love with the boy you've fallen in love with every friday night.

notes: college!au, fluff, humor, friends to lovers, lots of alcohol mentions and romcom cliches

originally written for mads's @neonun-au birthday, and thank you to madison (@heartkyeom), vampy (@vampyrescript) , and eva (@bfwonu) for helping with edits!

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

You'd like to say you awoke to the smell of sandalwood, maybe room service or a foot massage.

Instead, you're roused by a hand cramp and the dull smack of your head against the window of Soonyoung's sedan as he speeds over what may be the deepest pothole you've seen in your entire adult life.

"Shit..." You blink, bleary-eyed, at the clock (4:39 PM, a full hour after you were supposed to get to the hotel), and then at Soonyoung, who's humming along to your music and driving with one hand as if absolutely nothing is wrong.

You've noticed he hasn't stolen the aux cord from you even though you were supposed to switch off ages ago. It's one of the many small graces you've noticed from him today—you almost forgive him for letting you sleep through the entirety of the playlist you curated specifically for this trip. He lifted your bag into the back of his car (fair, because it was embarrassingly heavy), bought you Starbucks (he probably needed the stars or something), and didn't lose his patience when you asked him the nth question about ballet (you have no explanation for this one. If you were him, you definitely would have lost it the fifth time you had to explain what a jeté was.).

Yet again, you feel like something more than just a casual friend in the leftovers car on your senior trip.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty," he chirps. "Sleep well?"

You gaze out the window, watching the ribbon of green trees unfurl over the sprawling asphalt road. Once you get past Soonyoung's obvious speeding, it's nice, perfect even.

Until you remember you're on a trip to the beach. Not the middle of the forest.

"Soonyoung?"

"Yeah?"

"Where exactly are we?"

Without thinking, Soonyoung replies blithely, "I don't know. When you were asleep, Jeonghan called me and told me to detour and make a pit stop somewhere down this highway." A near comedic pause. "Also my phone's dead."

Then the music stops, signaling the death of your phone and the last tether you have to civilization.

You remember you're in Soonyoung's shitty 1990-something car with manual window cranks instead of phone chargers. And so it's just you, Soonyoung, and the road until you find some hillbilly death town to get gas at and figure out how to contact the rest of your friends, who are likely already sunbathing on the beach.

"So we're lost."

Soonyoung laughs, and it's almost enough to ease the wave of anxiety currently climbing your bones.

"Fuck. Oh my god," you groan. "We're in a horror movie, aren't we?"

"Ok, maybe, but we would totally survive a horror movie. Right? Come on. You're smiling."

"We are literally gonna be the first people to die. Like in the first thirty minutes."

For a moment you catch yourself tracing Soonyoung's grinning silhouette against the glow of the window, almost in admiration.

"What? You can't see me heroically rescuing you? I could absolutely take a zombie down. Seriously. We'd definitely make the hour mark."

"Not when you can't even keep our phones charged," you lament. "Or take the right exit. There, there, god, please check your blind spot!"

The town that you drive into is ripped straight from a postcard, thankfully, and not from the cover of a slasher movie.

It's almost incredible how, instead of drinking out of a coconut and watching Seokmin trip over his feet in an unnecessarily competitive game of beach volleyball, you're looking for parking spots on a street where it looks like cars haven't been invented yet.

But you don't really mind. In fact, as Soonyoung almost swerves off the road to point at a cute dog tied to a lamppost, you find this whole debacle a little endearing.

"Maybe we can park in front of this café and charge our phones there?"

"Yes, ma'am," Soonyoung replies, and that's how you find yourself seated in the cutest little booth, at a table so small, your knees are almost touching his.

In true disaster movie fashion, his phone charger is too frayed to be of any use, and so he peruses one of the sticky plastic-cover menus while you watch the slow creep of your phone battery to a serviceable percent.

"You like blueberry?" he asks.

"Sure."

You notice he's a foot tapper—always moving to some imaginary beat, never able to stay still. It'd normally bug you a little, but instead you're wondering what song he's dancing to. Almost as if reading your mind, he promptly sits on his hands and apologizes—"Sorry, 'm shaking the table," he laughs. "Bad habit."

"No, it's ok." You see an unreadable expression cross his face. But it's not a bad one—instead, it makes you curious. "I like trying to figure out what song you're thinking of."

"One of the songs from your playlist. I like your taste in music."

It flatters you more than it should, and to break the post-compliment tension you've invented in your own mind, you decide to call Jeonghan and set things straight while Soonyoung orders—blueberry pancakes and two coffees, please.

"Jeonghan, what the fuck," is the first thing you say to him, and Soonyoung laughs from across the table.

"Where are you guys?" is his languid reply, and, just as you predicted, you hear the telltale wail of Mingyu's voice complaining that Seungcheol was hogging all the shade. "Still driving?"

"What do you mean? Soonyoung told me that you told us to pull off at a rest stop."

"Hm?" He pulls the receiver away to holler at someone in the background (You can at least try to keep the ball in bounds, and someone, Seungkwan, maybe, yells something back). "Sorry, bad timing. I gotta go."

"What? Where? What the hell is going on?"

"You must have gotten lost." You can almost perfectly picture his nonchalant shrug, the dumb bucket hat he's got askew on his head. "Guess we shouldn't have put the two most directionally challenged people in the same car. Just stay the night wherever you are—we're not finishing all the alc today. Just most of it."

"Jeonghan—" And the receiver goes dead. "Jeonghan!"

It's over the welcome plate of pancakes Soonyoung ordered where you're able to fully contemplate your situation.

Of course it's the one time you're alone and sober with him where everything seems to go wrong.

You met Soonyoung at one of Jeonghan's parties. He was drinking from a wine bag, right from the spout, and it was then and there you knew you just had to be friends with him.

And it did happen—somehow, among college socialite Jeonghan's seemingly endless friend circles, you and the dance major fell into a steady rhythm of seeing each other on the weekends and vastly enjoying each other's presence.

Ever since, he was that friend for you. Your steadfast beer pong partner, the guy who texted you almost exclusively nonsensical memes and requests for philosophy notes (never without the pleading eyes emoji), and someone who was always down to split a milkshake with you at the midnight diner when the rest of your friends wanted real food (Isn't ice cream somewhere on the food pyramid? Soonyoung had always joked, to which Jihoon pointed out that Soonyoung ate like the pyramid was a circle labeled "junk". Says the guy who pisses straight Diet Coke, Soonyoung had replied, pouting, and it never failed to make you laugh.).

You had a comfortable friendship, one that was never less, never more, although you'd be lying if you said you never wished it was otherwise.

Now, looking at him, doused in the afternoon light and quietly listening to you ramble about your film minor, you never would have matched up this Soonyoung to the Soonyoung who did push-ups for an hour to attempt doing a keg stand by himself.

You push back the memory aching in your mind, that one night you walked him home after one too many margaritas.

"Shouldn't it be the other way around?" you had joked, and he turned to you, fully serious, and said you looked really pretty tonight. You remember the way his lips formed around the words, like it was the only thing he really knew in that moment.

And for once you felt relieved that he likely wouldn't remember a thing from that night, because you felt all the blood in your body, every single cell, rush to your head.

Maybe we both got a little too drunk, you had told yourself, but there was no way you could forget the way he had looked at you, and worse, that traitorous little flutter in the hollow of your chest.

He's saved you the last pancake.

"Whatcha thinking about?" he asks, more softly than you expect. "I know you're probably worried—" (Spoiler alert. You are.) "But...we're here now. Might as well have fun."

"I guess I can tolerate you for another 24 hours." You playfully roll your eyes, but not before catching the way he smiles at you. Yeah, he might smile at everyone like that, but this one, carved by maple syrup and sunlight, feels special.

"It'll be fun! Promise."

You make him pinky promise, even though you already believe him. You notice his hands are soft; you make him swear again just to hold them again, one more time.

As expected from a series of increasingly more unfortunate events, Soonyoung has dragged you into a souvenir shop for some tacky memorabilia to remember your trip by.

"Should we get them a postcard? We can write fuck you on the back," he says, scrunching his face up at the spinning rack of watercolor prints.

"Brilliant."

You join him by the display, and he promptly shows you the seven different postcards he was considering.

Too bright, too Hallmark, too Thomas Kincaid, you tell him as he shuffles through his stack,and even though he doesn't know who the fuck you're talking about, he takes your opinion like it's gospel and narrows it down to a painting of the sun over the lake, a big fat orange hovering above the little town you've found yourself in.

"If we're here, we might as well see the sunset. I think I saw a picnic area by the water," you say, watching him traipse over to a shelf of tourist trap hats. He tries one on, and you can't find it within yourself to tell him that, as cute as he is posing for you, it's not worth thirty dollars.

"Let's do it. I can show off my new hat."

Soonyoung grins at you, and it's like meeting him in reverse.

For some godforsaken reason, he knows what you look like mid-breakdown over a boy, and you know what his favorite hangover cure is (jasmine tea and a bowl of plain rice). And yet, you're both still figuring out the little things. When he pays for his goofy hat and the postcard, you catch that he has a little birthmark on his wrist.

"I still can't believe you cried watching Cars," you tell Soonyoung as you exit the gift shop.

"No amount of higher education could make me deny Mater's impact," he replies, hand over his heart, and you can't do anything but laugh. "Please tell me you'll write your thesis on him."

"Maybe if you look a little more pathetic, I'll think about it."

He doesn't hesitate to give you his best puppy eyes, and you actually feel your heart lurch a little.

"Hm. I'm listening."

And so you let Soonyoung lay out his master plan for your unwritten dissertation on Mater and Lightning McQueen's brotherhood, and it doesn't bypass you that he was actually listening to you talk about all that complicated movie lingo earlier.

He's a good listener even when he's not drunk. Actually, he's a better one sober, and it makes you feel kinda funny.

When he looks at you, stars in his eyes, you see the same Soonyoung that you've spent all those midnights with, except he still acts like he's known you for years you haven't had together.

You find yourself wishing that you knew him on nights other than Friday ones, that you knew his ups and downs, that you knew him as not just a drinking game partner, or a seatmate or another one of Jeonghan's friends or the guy you subject to mimosa therapy on bottomless Sundays.

You find yourself wishing you knew all of Soonyoung, and it's the moment you settle on that thought that you know you're doomed.

"So that's first position."

"Yup."

You watch Soonyoung's lithe fingers dance across the canvas of the tote bag you've laid out across both your laps, as you sit side by side on a bench by the lakeside. The air is warm and muggy with summertime, and there's no one out but the two of you.

"Arabesque into pas de ciseaux." A dash to stage right (the corner where your leg and the tote bag meet), and he pirouettes onto the bare skin of your thigh. His touch is featherlight, but it gives you goosebumps, something you desperately try to swallow down as his hand spins back for a final jump and bow.

"That's the jeté," you manage to say, and you can swear he's never looked happier to hear something.

"Yeah, you got it," he says, slow and soft. "See, you could do ballet too."

"Nowhere as good as you, not even close. I don't know if you saw me, but I've been to your shows before. You're incredible."

"No, I remember. I always look for you in the audience," he replies. "Because of that one time you asked me about my show, during that Chi Omega party." He lowers his eyes to his hands, now fidgeting in his lap. "You were the only one who did."

"I can't imagine not wanting to see your performances," is the only thing you can think to say (you're too busy fighting the butterflies in your stomach), but it seems okay, because Soonyoung leans on your shoulder. That mop of blonde hair smells like oranges and the sun, and you lean right back into him.

Some unexplainable feeling threatens to claw its way out of your chest.

It's familiar, intimate, too intimate. Yeah, maybe he wiped your tears with an McDonalds napkin when you cried in the drive-thru the day after you broke up with Minghao, but this is different. It didn't feel like a facehugger from Alien was going to fuck your shit up, not even close. (Although, Soonyoung's shitty jokes and the piss-poor absorbency of the napkin were more reasons to laugh than to catch feelings.)

"I like that about you," Soonyoung says. "You care."

"What do you mean? Of course I care."

"I don't know." He slips into that mumble talk again. "Sometimes it seems like all I am to people is the life of the party, that's all. Just the guy who's really good at beer pong. You're different." A pause. "Although, you've gotta admit, I have saved your ass more times I can count."

"Ok, fair. Never said I was the better half of our team." And when you manage to make him laugh, you add, "And I like that about you too. I don't think anyone else in the world would have let me go on that long about 70 millimeter film."

He laughs again, a pretty one that blossoms from his chest and shakes the two of you, bodies still connected.

The sound lingers in the air, and you let the dusk and the crickets and the smell of his cologne wash over you. You like how your knees are touching, how he rests on your shoulder like it's the most natural thing he's ever done—it's different than the Soonyoung that clings to you, crying about the power of friendship, because he can't walk straight after two beers, but you like it. You're coming to realize that they're two halves of the same picture, the same Soonyoung with a heart he wears on his sleeve.

It feels like an eternity before he breaks the silence. He sits up straight, and your stomach folds into itself a little.

"Do you remember that kickback we went to? Right after my Swan Lake performance?" Soonyoung's voice is low, casual, like he's sharing a secret between you and the universe. "We played truth or dare and you said you wouldn't mind kissing me?"

"Thought you were too drunk to remember. Everyone else was," you laugh, suddenly feeling too shy to meet the gaze you know is falling on you. You're falling, falling, careening down a mile-long cliff, with no intention to stop—somehow it's that part that scares you the most.

The memory's another one of those in-betweens, forgotten glimpses of a boy you felt only you knew. The sweaty, euphoric, post-practice Soonyoung you bumped into when your political theory class ran late, the whispered jokes in between tequila shots, the stumbling, drunken conversations about the universe and everything in it on the long walks home.

The fact that all of these little precious seconds also lived in Soonyoung's mind, that they're as real to him as they are to you, makes your heart feel raw, seen.

"How could I forget something like that?" is his simple response. The gravity of the moment settles into your bones; you're breathless, giddy. "I'm asking because—," he pauses, taking your expression into his eyes, writing you into memory. The sudden intimacy of it all makes you want to cry. "Because I want to kiss you. Will you let me?"

The words hang in between you, just one more secret between you and the universe.

Maybe it's hopeless, maybe it's just another one of those passing moments, but you don't think you would ever forgive yourself if you let it go by. And so you close the distance between the two of you, feel those heart shaped lips on yours.

At first he's so gentle, as if he's buffering a little. And then he clicks into motion, heart possessing his body, and kisses you back like it's a fairytale.

"You make me so shy," he murmurs. You're so close, you think he can feel your heart beating out of your chest. "I almost chickened out of it."

He punctuates his sentence with another kiss, which you gladly lean into. This one is more giggly, impulsive (Sorry, I couldn't help it, he says against your lips, and you're so happy you could die right here, right in front of the lake in the middle of nowhere, in the arms of the stupidest, hottest ballerino you know).

"Shy? Me?"

"Yeah. You're cool, and you're smart and funny—" You watch him stumble over the words as you meet his eyes, which is so cute, it physically pains you. "And you're good at karaoke, which is really fucking hot."

"Oh, so that's what got you, huh?"

You remember the night he was talking about, the one right after you were positively sure you flunked your stats final, where you rolled into Jeonghan's frat house two hours late looking no better than a wet rat. You grabbed the mic and lost your goddamn mind, which in no way was attractive or sexy, but you guess Soonyoung's of a different breed.

"What can I say, I'm a simple man," he replies, nose pressed to yours.

You're soaking into the moment, the hazy warmth of the lakeside and the way your heart seems to leap right into Soonyoung's lap every time his eyelashes skirt over your cheek. And then you remember everything else, like the fact that this is not some Lifetime movie and that you still have to find a place to stay and a way to get to the beach tomorrow.

"We need to get a room."

"Already?" Soonyoung almost jumps out of his skin. "I, uh—"

"Not for that, idiot," you scoff affectionately. "We're stuck here for a night, remember? Before we get to, you know, the trip we're supposed to be on?"

"Ohh, fuck." He looks at you with those big, vacant eyes, and you know he's totally lost the plot. "How the fuck are we gonna tell everyone we're, like, a thing now? We're a thing now, right?"

"I hope so," you laugh, reveling in the relief that floods through Soonyoung's features. "As for telling everyone, I’m starting to think they set us up, actually. It all kinda makes sense now."

You're not exactly anticipating Jeonghan's shit-eating grin when you tell him it actually worked, but you know this whole plot was him looking out for you in his own special way. (You're not keen on finding out just how obvious your crush was to everyone except the two of you, though).

Although, it does kind of feel like a Lifetime movie—when you walk to the local motel, your hands brush against each other with all of the pent-up tension of a first love, until you finally just grab his hand and feel it melt into yours.

"I've always wondered what this would feel like," he says, thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

"What, holding hands? That's supposed to come before the first kiss, you know."

"I mean we can kiss again. And just forget about the first one if you want to do it in order."

Who are you to deny him, you think, and gladly, gladly indulge him.

"Were you in on this whole thing?" you ask when you're finally able to pull him off you.

"No, but I get why, 'cos I can't really keep a secret," he replies, sheepish grin on his face. "Oh, wait, so you're saying Jeonghan got us lost on purpose. Ohhh."

His eyes get all big and shiny, and you know you're down bad when you find the fact that he just got it more than a little cute.

If he weren't so convincing, though, you would have thought this was a group effort, because when you open the door to the only vacant room in the entire motel, there is exactly one tiny little bed.

"You've gotta be kidding me," you laugh, but the second you see Soonyoung drop all the bags to immediately begin building a pillow barrier, you fall for him all over again.

And as if on cue, your phone dings with a text from Jeonghan.

You owe me a drink, it reads. Classic.

#emerging from my dungeon w a nice fun fluff piece :)#everyone say happy (belated) bday mads!#mine #hosh #hoshi #hoshi fluff #seventeen #hoshi x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #hoshi scenarios #hoshi imagines #soonyoung #soonyoung imagines #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung fluff #lily destroys the tags <3

1K notes · View notes

withlovemark · 2 years

Text

i'll follow you everywhere.

warning: idk? some parts are sad

pairing: steve x female reader, slight eddie x reader (again, not really)

words: 11k+ ; this is, by far, the longest thing i've written. that being said, im sorry if there might be small mistakes, i was way too lazy to edit it, im also sorry if some parts feel rushed (i was writing this under a time constraint)

settings: s4 ; so this contains s4 spoilers! (for those who haven't watched it yet)

an: i switched up some of the events that happened in s4 to better fit the reader's plot line. plus, thank you, in advance, to those who take the time to read this! sorry its ridiculously wrong ;-;

one. - everywhere, we were there

(an introduction to who the reader is and how she fits into the story, i suggest reading it first if you haven't already).

two.

steve walks into the gym, right behind heidi. immediately his eyes spot you in the crowd. you looked absolutely beautiful, your green uniform bouncing with every step you took, a wide smile etched upon your pretty face. heidi makes a comment about how it would suck for him if they finally won a championship game the year he was no longer a part of the team. he curses her in his head, thanking her for that reminder. she was right.

jason makes his speech, he has the urge to punch his stupid little face in. he’s sure anyone can see the look of disgust he’s currently wearing. ’he doesn’t even have great hair.’

tammy thompson starts singing and he takes a peek at robin, who was standing with the band kids, instrument in her hand. the pair laughing in their heads. heidi makes another comment, about how good she sounds, and this time he can’t help but roll his eyes. she was wrong.

he can’t wait for this to be over. all he wanted to do was grab your hand, get out of there and just drive. to where? who cares? his eyes search around for your figure once again. this time, unsuccessful.

the game starts.

you made a beeline for the restroom as soon as jason started his speech, nose dripping red. in there, you run into max. you haven’t seen her in a while. you shoot her a friendly smile. “you okay?” she asks, grabbing a tissue from her bag and handing it to you. “yeah, i’ve just been overworking my body lately so,” you pinch your nose, “this happens,” you shrug, the only reason you could think of.

“yeah, i get it,” she whispers, looking down at her shoes. you take the time to really look at her, she looks like she hasn’t slept for days. it was awful, what happened to her brother. even worse that she was there watching the whole thing go down. she’s too young. you should’ve shielded her eyes. you should’ve pulled her away from the scene. you didn’t do either of those things. a flash of guilt.

your thoughts are interrupted when you hear gut-wrenching noises from one of the stalls. eyeing it suspiciously, eyes darting from the stall and back at max, sharing a glance, an unspoken conversation. fear rising throughout your body. max makes the first move. she’s brave, that one.

“uhm, are you okay in there?” she yells out. whoever it was, started sobbing, incoherent noises spilling from their lips. that's when you walk over, banging on the door, “hey, open up, we can help,” your voice, gentler than your actions. you come face to face with none other than chrissy cunningham, your co-cheerleading captain.

“chrissy? what’s wrong?” you stare at her, shocked that she was the culprit.

“i-im just not feeling well,” she refuses to meet your eye. she looks so disconnected. it’s out of character.

chrissy cunningham was always composed, carrying herself with grace and elegance that you could only imagine.

you take one step closer and panic rises to her face, pushing you away, she marches out of there. dumbfounded, you watch her. sure, the two of you weren’t the best of friends but you were teammates. you work together. you help each other. and never, in your life, have you ever seen chrissy cunningham act so disoriented. “that was weird,” max breaks you out of your thoughts. “yeah…it was,” you agreed, staring at the door she walked out of.

much to steve’s dismay, the team won. he was still with heidi. he thinks you’re somewhere with jason. he tries to push those thoughts away, just wanting morning to come bring you in.

you don’t show up when the sun rises. the cops knocking at your front door, preventing you to do so “are you y/n l/n?”

“yes officer, is something wrong?” cops showing up at anyone’s house is never a good sign. you try to think of what you’ve done in the past 24 hours to have them standing in front of you.

“you’re chrissy cunningham's co-cheerleading captain, right?” you nod, a million thoughts racing in your head. your head was pounding.

“when was the last time you saw her?” you tell them you saw her in the bathroom just last night, leaving out the part where she looked absolutely terrified. you don’t exactly trust the cops. not when they haven’t been doing anything, choosing to turn a blind eye to the dangers that lie and continue to lie in town. he writes something down on his notepad and you can’t help but wonder why he’s here in the first place.

“im sorry… but why are you asking me about chrissy?” you question. his reply makes you go cold, body rigid. you may have been the last person to see her and you didn’t do anything. if only you questioned her more. if only you tried harder to lend a helping hand. if only you ran after her. then maybe the officer wouldn't have told you that “she was found dead this morning.” another flash of guilt.

meanwhile, steve doesn't even get the chance to wonder where you were and why you aren't at family video yet. dustin barging in, messing up his tapes in the process, and dragging him into yet another series of unfortunate events. something about eddie munson killing chrissy cunningham…or not killing chrissy cunningham? he’s not too sure. he doesn’t like eddie. but he will do anything for that cocky little shit, dustin. so he lets him drag him around town, robin and max in the backseat to eddie’s knife against his neck to nancy eventually joining them, trying to solve another mystery. at this point, he starts considering a field in law enforcement. why should he keep doing these things for free when the cops out there barely do their jobs and still make a higher salary than him. he’s so annoyed and all he wants is to go to you.

he wonders if you’ve heard the news. he hopes you haven’t. out of everyone here, you were the only one who had some type of bond with the blonde girl. he decides it's best you’re as far away from this as possible, especially since they have no idea what they're currently dealing with, just that it’s “some freaky, wizard monster” that goes by the name of “vecna.”

bickering. lots of bickering. to the point where he just finally gave in. the kids never listen to him anyways. here they were, in possession of a stolen key, breaking into the counselors office. “hurry up and get what you need,” he ushers the kids. max dashes towards the filing cabinet, trying to find something, anything, to explain what’s going on with her and how exactly it links to the story eddie told them about chrissy.

that’s when she found it. her name, chrissy’s name, freddie’s name and …

she glances at steve, worry in her eyes, sending goosebumps all over his skin. “what?” he asks, removing himself from the wall and walking towards her.

“y/n’s here too,” she says softly, afraid that if she said it any louder, it would be a truth they could never come back from. steve snatches the file from her, there, in capital letters, was your full name. a trick of the mind, he tells himself, reading it over and over again to make sure he wasn’t just envisioning it. you were seeing ms. kelly? you were having the same symptoms? and then it clicks. the headaches. the nightmares.

he’s terrified. color draining from his body, almost like he’s seen vecna himself.

a noise outside the halls snaps him back to defense mode. grabbing the nearest object he could find – a green lamp. good enough. he refuses to stay here any longer, just wanting to make sure you’re okay. he keeps the kids behind him as they slowly turn the corner. lucas sinclair. steve scolds him, “jesus sinclair! i could’ve taken you out with this thing!” as the boy muttered sincere apologies. their screaming stops to a halt when they hear yet another unwanted sound. crouching once again, turning off their flashlights, steve getting ready to hit whoever it was that was coming their way.

you heard him, you could spot who that voice belongs to a mile away. plus it wasn’t hard not to when no one else was supposed to be on school grounds. you followed the hushed voices and finally came face to face with four screaming faces. you scream back, hand clutched around your heart as soon as you notice the familiar individuals.

“what are you doing here?!” steve yells, hands slowly releasing the lamp that was once tightly gripped around his knuckles.

“what are you!?” it made more sense that you were here over a boy who’s already graduated. it is your school and you did have a key to the gym, being the cheerleading captain and all. don’t question it. strict authorities barely exist in hawkins anyway.

you look around, eyes darting from steve to the kids. there in max’s hands, you spot your name written on a brown envelope. an envelope you see every morning before your first period. eyebrows furrowing, “is that my file?” you question.

steve remembers where he’s at and the events that just transpired, his voice gaining your attention once again, “you’ve been seeing ms. kelly?” sympathy flashing in his eyes. you don’t want to see it, avoiding his gaze, looking at literally anything else but him. he takes that as a yes. “why didn’t you tell me?” desperation. he sounds heart-broken.

“that’s not exactly something to brag about,” you muttered, embarrassed.

“you don’t trust me?” he eggs on and you feel nothing but guilt. “you don’t want me to know who you really are?” you stare at him. his eyes are darker now and you wonder if your mind is playing tricks on you. “because you know i could never love you if you do.” you look behind him, the kids no longer there. and then you hear the chime of a clock from a distance, almost like it’s taunting you. “steve-”

“you know,” he clicks his tongue, cutting you off. “you’re the reason we’re here in the first place. why we're always running. always fighting for our lives. and now, chrissy cunningham is dead,” his voice morphing into something truly evil. chills spreading throughout your body. eyes, watering. “and it’s all. your. fault.” you can’t breathe. he was saying everything you were afraid to admit. the truth. it rings loudly in your ear. you run.

from the other side, steve stares at your unresponsive body. he thinks back to eddie’s words. taking two large steps until he was right in front of you, his hands going straight to your shoulders trying to shake you awake. “y/n, do you hear me!” he yells, the kids making their way towards you, calling out for you.

“wake up!!” his voice so loud, a hand on your cheek. his eyes trying to find some sort of life in your now, empty ones. that twinkle he was used to seeing, gone.

“y/n come on, come back!” he begs.

you finally do. letting out a gasp, eyes wide, catching your breath.

“what just happened?” you were back at the school, brown, worried, eyes boring into your very confused ones.

“fuck, you scared me,” steve whispers into your ear, wrapping you in his arms. holding you close to him. his heartbeat calms you down.

the sound of an engine coming averts everyone’s attention. “as much as i love seeing you guys all lovey dovey, we really need to go! that’s jason and he’s after me!” lucas panics. you quickly pull away from steve, feeling awkward at the kid’s comment, steve’s eyes remaining on you.

you have no idea what’s happening but the urgency in lucas’ voice snaps you into action. ever since lucas joined the basketball team, you’ve taken him under your wing, treating him like your little brother. you made sure to watch over him, keeping jason off his back. you’re not going to stop now.

“get out of here, i’ll buy you guys some time,” you declare, finding your voice.

“what?! no!” steve shakes his head “no way! i am not leaving you here! especially not with jason” he argues, rolling his eyes, hands on his hips. the kids look back and forth, wondering who they should listen to.

dustin makes the final verdict, whining, “steve, we have to gooo,” as he pulls on his arm.

“you guys just saw what happened right ?!” he’s frantic now “i’m not leaving without her. that’s final.” he looks down at the kids, standing his ground, arms crossed.

a car door shutting echoes throughout the night. “oh, for the love of god steve, go!,” you push him towards the exit. “i’ll meet up with you later,” you say, making your way to the entrance, heading straight to jason, not bothering to wait for a response. steve is furious, watching you walk the opposite direction, wanting to follow you but the three kids currently clinging unto him makes it hard to do so. he reluctantly follows, accepting defeat, but not before glancing at you one last time.

max looks back at you, only for a second, whisper-shouting a “meet us at the wheeler’s” before they’re dragging their favorite babysitter out of there.

“y/n?” jason‘s shocked expression greeted you. you were the last person he expected to find tonight. but the sight of you has his eyes softening. you feel bad for him. you’re not entirely sure why the kids are running from him. or why he’s suddenly the villain of whatever twisted situation you’re in. you don’t have time to question him, just wanting him as far away from the rest.

“hey jase, you ok?” it was a stupid question, you knew that. how could anyone who loved chrissy be okay in this situation. before he could answer, your eyes drift along to steve’s car that was getting further and further away. the blonde boy follows, a look of betrayal evident on his face as soon as he saw through your eyes.

“you were hiding sinclair?!” he yells at you. eyebrows furrowed. attacking. gaining your full attention.

“sinclair? i have no idea what you’re talking about,” you try to remain as calm as possible, making sure you don’t sound suspicious.

“where the fuck are they going?!” he’s so angry, his face turning a bright red, vein popping out, as he grabs your wrist, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“i don't fucking know what you’re talking about jason!” you lose your cool.

“he’s hiding chrissy’s killer!”

“what?” you ask, stunned, you’re sure you didn’t hear that right.

“eddie munson. their cult leader. that stupid club they have — hellfire? well turns out, it’s not just a stupid club… they’re - they’re demonic!, they’re sacrificing people to satan and i need to stop them.” he sounds like he’s giving another one of his motivational speeches and if it wasn’t for the gravity of the situation, you would’ve laughed in his face. so fucking hard.

also, eddie munson — a killer? it’s hard to imagine. he’s incredibly annoying, sure, but he couldn’t even hurt a fly.

“do you realize how insane you sound right now?,” you reply, finally pulling your now, very red, wrist away.

“i’ll prove it to you. i will.” he growls, jumping back into his car, his minions right with him. driving away. you try stopping him, knocking on his car window, all he does is press on the gas a little hard, leaving you there, alone.

steve cannot believe he’s sitting on his ex-girlfriends couch, in her basement, instead of being by your side. robin and nancy are still out. he refuses to leave this house without seeing you. he’s anxious, every tick of the clock felt like a gunshot to his mind. his legs, bouncing. it’s been exactly thirty-three minutes and you still haven’t walked in. he really shouldn’t have left you.

damn, these kids.

“she’s going to be okay, steve, we’ll find a way,” dustin assured him, already feeling liable if anything were to happen to you.

“yeah but how about the whole vecna curse, we still don’t know anything” steve answers quietly, making sure the boy knows he’s not upset at him.

“you should tell her” lucas chimes in, “tell her what?” he looks at him, wondering what the boy knew that he somehow didn't.

“that you’re in love with her,” dustin says like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“i-im not in love with her!” he stutters.

“uh huh, sureee, ok,” max says from the desk she’s sitting on. she doesn't even look up at him yet he knows she’s rolling her eyes, her sarcasm apparent. she goes back to writing, or something, god knows what she’s doing.

“i’m not! okay!” he turns to dustin, his eyes bulging out, “you literally just confronted me earlier about being in love with nancy,” he points out, “newsflash guys, take it from an adult, you don’t have to have romantic feelings for every person of the opposite sex!” he explains, hands waving around in large motions.

“ohh kayy, we get it! you don’t have to be so defensive,” dustin comments and steve swears he wants to punch him as bad as he wants to punch jason. dustin’s fate is saved by the bell when you finally enter the room, capturing everyone’s attention.

steve was up in no time, walking straight towards you, arms embracing you. “are you okay? are you hurt?” he inspects your face. you pull your sweater a little lower, not wanting him to see your wrist.

“i’m fine, sorry i took so long i went home to change and grab some of my things, i don’t exactly want to be fighting another monster in my uniform,” you explain. he nods, noticing the duffle bag hanging from your shoulder, “you should’ve called me, i could’ve just picked you up,” you shake your head, “it’s okay, i’m here now.”

max walks up to you, immediately asking “back there, was that your first vision?”

“vision? uhm - i guess? yeah?,” at this point, you’re past confusion. you’re lost.

“ok. good. good. that means you have more time than i do,” they all nod. sadness enveloping the air.

“more time?” your eyebrows raising, sitting on the couch, steve right behind you.

“yeah,” max nods, “by the way, here,” she hands each one of you a letter, steve asking her what it's for. a “fail-safe” she said. you shake your head, closing your eyes for a second before taking a huge breath, “can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” you say it so calmly, it’s almost scary. you were drained. not having the energy to raise your voice.

they explain to you what they do know. starting with where eddie munson comes into play – how he was there the night chrissy died. the mention of chrissy’s name makes you wince, steve notices, his hand going straight to your knee, providing you some comfort. they continue, telling you that everyone vecna has cursed has had the same symptoms (headaches, bloody noses, nightmares) and every single one has died.

“well, isn’t that great,” you butt in. “just, peachy,” max adds and you try to force a smile though it probably just looked like you were hurt. you were the only two people in this room who really has a grasp on how scary this vecna wizard is. max goes on, telling you that she saw a tall grandfather clock in her vision. you confess, telling her you heard it.

“everyone died except for an old dude named victor creel that nancy stumbled upon, being the only known survivor,” dustin finishes summarizing. you try to take it all in, sitting there, staring at the objects on the table in front of you, processing every information.

“so what do we do?” you ask, looking around.

“we wait for nancy and robin,” steve replies, his grip on your knee tightening for a second. right at that moment, almost like everything was an act, the two girls are rushing down to the basement.

“okay, so,” nancy starts, “we have a plan.” determined.

robin spots you, “nice for you to finally join us,” she smiles, the first genuine smile you’ve seen tonight.

“yeah, well, i’m one of the cursed ones,” regretting your words as soon as you saw her face fall.

“oh shit.” no one knows what to say.

“what’s the plan?” an attempt to break the awkward, sad tension that hung in the air.

nancy coughs, “well..” she explains their plan of going to pennhurst asylum and paying a visit to victor creel by talking to the director about a made up thesis on paranoid schizophrenics. they would be going in as ruth and rose.

“ruth?” steve questions, eyebrows raised at nancy. she raises both her eyebrows at him, a proud smile on her lips. you don’t like the interaction. not one bit. but now’s not really the time to focus on that.

“wait..wait.. wait a second,” steve’s voice beside you raises, realization striking him, “where’s mine?” nancy gives him a knowing look before walking away. he runs after her and into her room. from a distance you hear, “you’re out of your goddamn mind if you think im letting you two go in there without me!”

“uhm, excuse you, robin and i actually make a really good team,” nancy scoffs. robin grabs your hand, following the duo into nancy’s room.

“oh my god, you have a tom cruise poster,” robin points out, going straight to the poster next to her bed. you think back to halloween night when the couple was dressed as lana and joel goodsen and you’re very aware what that poster symbolizes. you glance at nancy, she notices, “th-thats old,” she defended as she pulled several clothing items out of her closet. you felt so out of place. you’ve never really had a friendly relationship with the girl, pretending like you don’t know each other in the halls. you’re not even sure you’ve spoken a sentence to her before. there was just never a need to, ironic, since you’ve been on the same boat for so long.

steve continues insisting that he should go, “c’mon nance, i could, i don't know, i could turn on my…my charm,” he snaps his fingers. the use of nancy’s nickname slipping from his lips leaves a sour taste in your mouth. nancy shakes her head, “not the charm we need,”

“ouch,” he gets a quiet chuckle out of you, leaning against nancy’s drawers, eyes falling to your feet. steve looks back at you, nancy still going on and on about how they need to be as convincing as they possibly could, acting as academic scholars, the director they're going to interview being someone who is highly respected and not easily fooled.

“holy shit, there’s a ballerina in here,” robin whispers, gaining another eye roll from steve.

“academic scholar, she’s giving you academic scholar?” robin’s offended.

you come to her defense as quick as you possibly can, finally speaking up, “no, but…” you walk towards nancy, who was still looking at her closet, having a hard time to decide. “may i?” you ask, she steps to the side giving you a full view. you spot a pink dress, perfect for an academic scholar. pulling it out, you show it to the rest, a smile on your lips, “she will,” you finish, sending robin a wink. robin wishes she backed up steve. maybe then he would’ve taken her place and she didn’t have to be wearing nancy’s dress.

“how about you? you can go instead!” robin suggests in which steve aggressively refuses to, “no, what if she has a vision while you guys are there, how are you gonna explain that huh einstein?” he scoffs.

“it’s settled then, it’ll be me and robin,” nancy ends the debate, steve still looks unsure, but then he looks back at you and he knows he can’t, and won’t, leave your side.

“fine, but you call me as soon as you need me nance,” he ordered. his voice stern. a genuine look of concern so visibly seen. you wonder if he still loves her.

you wish the girls good luck. finding yourself back in the basement, on the couch. the boy’s watching over you and max. steve pulls you to the other side of the room, both of you getting comfortable on the floor, sitting side by side.

“do you want to talk about it?” he murmured, hands wrapping around yours. how do you even begin to tell him that he was the person in your vision? you simply can’t. so you shook your head no. he doesn’t press any further, “when you do… want to talk about it, im here, yeah?” he whispers by your ear, only for you to hear. you lay your head against his shoulder, eyes going straight to your interlocked hands. you wonder how long you’ll have this.

max makes her way to the both of you, cutting the moment short, walkie talkie in hand, “if we go to east hawkins, would this still reach pennhurst?” you know exactly what she wants to do. hell, you should probably follow in her footsteps and start saying goodbye to all the people you love. you’re not as strong as her though. you haven’t accepted it.

steve refuses, his eyes begs you to agree with him. you don't. it was four against one. and max makes a rather compelling argument about not wanting to spend her last possible day in the wheelers’ basement. you couldn’t agree more.

“henderson, that super walkie of yours better reach pennhurst,” he sighs, finally unlocking the car doors. it feels normal at first, you sitting in the passenger seat, steve behind the wheel. the kids in the back. the only thing reminding you of the situation you're in was the loudest silence that hung above everyone's head. steve steals glances at everyone through his mirror, making sure that no one has drifted far away. you all make it to max’s house, vecna-free and you thank whoever is up there for the few moments of normalcy. she enters her home, steve warning her not to take too long. max promises she’ll be back in twenty seconds.

the boys go out, making sure they keep an earshot away from max, the drivers seat window remains open, doing the same for you. you stay in the car, feeling like absolute shit. head leaning against the window, eyes closed, trying to relieve yourself from the current discomfort you were feeling.

“hey, hey, you okay?” steve’s voice hushly calls out for you. you open your eyes, ready to tell steve that you’re fine and he shouldn’t worry.

instead you were met with the most heartbreaking frown on the lips of the person you come face to face with. a cry, “why didn’t you pick me up that night?” will byers’ face come into view. “y/n, i called for you. i needed you. where were you?,” once again, you’re frozen, unable to move, “you’re so selfish!,” the boy now shouting at you, “useless!,” his voice gets louder and louder, morphing into that same evil voice, “it’s all. your. fault!”

“please, p-please stop,” you cry out. “you did this to me.” and then you feel branch-like hands brush against your cheek, “y/n…you brought me alive, you belong here, this is all your doing.” he’s right by your ear. the clock chiming again, this time, louder. you turn around, meeting vecna for the first time.

and then you were back to reality, gasping. eye’s scanning, hands going straight to the dashboard of the car, trying to reach for anything that can verify your location. you spot the boys in front of the car, still waiting for max as you try to calm yourself down. quickly, you wipe away the tears that have fallen, composing yourself as best as you could. you’re just glad none of them noticed. you keep it to yourself.

max finally walks out. she’s flustered. demanding steve to, “just drive.” he does. you look back at her, asking her if she’s okay. she doesn’t answer, focusing instead on the trees outside her window. you can tell by her actions that she must have had a vision. you’re sure you looked exactly the same way just a couple minutes before. you all sit in silence once again. driving until you were at the cemetery. max goes straight to billy’s grave, letter in hand.

this time, you sit outside with lucas, leaving dustin and steve in the car. “you okay?” you ask the boy. “no. im, scared,” lucas admits, eye’s immediately watering. you pull him into a tight hug. he’s always been so strong, so understanding to the people around him. seeing him like this hurts you.

“we’ll figure it out,” you say after finally releasing him.

“how are you so sure?”

“we always do.” you’re not really sure who you’re trying to convince. the boy or yourself?

steve anxiously taps on his car window before finally acknowledging that it's been long enough. lucas tells him to give her a bit more time. “i have, ok sinclair, if she wants to get a lawyer, she can, im calling it,” lucas shares a glance with you. this time, you agree with steve. he was out of there in no time, running straight to max.

“max, time to giddy up, yeah?” you hear him ask. no response. you hear him repeat her name. still nothing. he’s fully yelling for her to wake up now. in a second, the three of you are right by his side, all calling out to the ginger headed girl. steve grabs dustin by his shirt, ordering him to call nancy and robin. dustin runs back towards the car, stumbling a little bit, curses spilling from his lips. it takes incredibly long to finally get an answer, but once he does, dustin comes running back, bag full of tapes in his hand.

“what song?! what’s her favorite song?!” he yells.

“why?!” lucas yells back.

“it’s too much to explain right now. what’s. her. favorite. song?!” you all scramble trying to find the song lucas mentioned. he finds it. snapping it into the player, quickly placing the headphones on max’s head, hoping to god it works. she stands, eyes still white, you all watch in shock. and then she starts floating in the air and you’re afraid it’s too late. you find your voice, calling out to her, tears falling freely down your face. she was so high now. you look at lucas, ready to shield him away from the sight that was about to come. instead you hear a gasp, max was falling, hyperventilating. lucas holds her, she grasps onto him, whispering that she’s okay. that she’s here. you reach out your hand, your palm making contact with her knee. just making sure.

none of you can believe it worked. thank you, kate bush.

back in the comfort of steve’s car, he pulls something out of his glove box, placing it in his player. everywhere by fleetwood mac filling every corner of his vehicle. you’re shocked, you didn’t even know he knew your favorite song. steve glances at his rearview mirror, max has her head resting against lucas, kate bush still playing in her ears, dustin with his eyes closed, chest rising up and down, exhaustion creeping up on them.

“i promise we’ll get you your own portable player later,” he whispers, not wanting to wake the kids. you smile, “thank you,” before grabbing his hand and placing a soft kiss on his knuckles. he brings his hands up to your cheeks, “don’t scare me like max did, ok? ever,” he pleads, eyes begging. you don't promise anything. instead you held his hand a little tighter.

he finally drives back to the wheelers, lucky for you, mike had a perfectly working player he left behind. you and max, now matching, everyone hoping that as long as the music is playing, nothing can take you both away. that was the first night everyone really got to rest.

well, everyone except for the cursed two, the sound of blaring music getting ridiculous.

“what if i start hating this song, what happens then?” you joke around with the girl, max chuckles at your statement. “i'm hoping my other favorite songs works,” she continues, you teasingly gasp, “this is the only song i know.” you share a smile before everything got quiet. steve’s light snores right by your ear, your shoulder being his pillow for the night.

“have you seen him?” max asks you, breaking the silence once more. “vecna?” you nod. admitting to her that you had a vision in the car while you were at her mom’s house. she asks you what your visions were and after making sure that everyone was still fast asleep, you guys sneak out, sitting instead in front of the wheeler’s front porch. you tell her about your visions, she tells you about hers.

“if it helps, i can tell he’s completely in love with you,” max advised. a nice thought that you somehow can’t invite in. “he loves me as a friend,” you correct her. because if he ever did loved you as more than that then why was he still looking for love somewhere else?

“maybe he just doesn’t know it yet, let’s face it, he’s not really the brightest,” max urges. she earns a chuckle from you and you find yourself agreeing to the last bit, “no… he’s not,” you smile, picking at your shoes, “but i love him even more for it,” you confess. after a while of sitting in silence, the air gets a little too cold, you both head back inside, taking your place right next to steve, finally allowing your head to fall on top of his. arms immediately finding its way around your waist.

the next morning you all make your way to victor creel’s abandoned house right after nancy pieced together max’s drawings. the dark, cold house sends chills all over your body. the connection to vecna feeling a little stronger, you look at max to see if she feels it too only to find her already staring back at you. the only confirmation you needed. you knew the group was searching in the right place.

steve asks everyone where they got their flashlights, dustin quickly mocking him before you pull the extra one you packed in your duffel bag, handing it to him. he utters a small, “thanks,” shaking his head at dustin. max grabs everyone's attention, a flashlight shining on the grandfather clock you're sure has been the one you're hearing.

“you guys see that, right?” steve and dustin both assure her that they do. facing the clock makes you feel lightheaded, losing your step, steve’s hands making it’s way to your back, balancing you. you remove your headphones for a quick second, just wanting to calm the pounding of your head. as soon as you looked back up, the clock was no longer standing its ground. instead it’s become attached to the wall, chiming so loudly you think that the noise is actually coming from inside your head.

“you came to me, y/n…do you accept it now? your fate”

closing your eyes, you try to shake him away, reminding yourself that this was all a bad dream, that he wasn’t real and that you were safe at the house with your friends beside you. you start hearing the tune of everywhere once again, but you can’t find the courage to move.

in the walls of victor creels house, the group stares at your detached soul. steve places the headphones back on you just as quickly as you took it off.

“it’s almost your time,” vecna whispers in your ear.

their flashlights start to flicker and they’re all unsure of what’s happening. but then you were back. “i told you to not scare me like that,” steve scolds, his hands wrapped gently around your face, while you mutter out a sorry.

“just…don’t remove your headphones anymore, yeah?” robin concludes. you feel awful for making them worry. nancy tells everyone to partner off, in hopes that you can find something quicker and get the hell out of there. steve keeps a hold on you, letting go only once you’re up the stairs. you observe the room that you’re in, flashlight shining on various amounts of picture frames. steve’s on the other side, crouched down, examining a bottle he found on the grate of the floor. he feels a spider crawl up his shoulder causing him to stand and stumble back into the arms of his ex-girlfriend, “why, wh-what’s wrong?” nancy’s voice snaps your head to their direction, your eyes filled with the same amount of concern laced in her voice.

“there was a spider,” steve admits, “a black widow,” he says out of breath, blocking the doorway, “don’t go in there.”

“oh… oh wait,” nancy reaches for his head, steve gets frantic, “stop moving,” he listens. her hands find its way into his hair, removing webs that tangled up in the boy’s locks. robin notices you watching them from across the room, she breaks the moment up for you, making a joke, “if there’s a spider nesting in there you’re never gonna find it until it lays eggs and all the babies spill out,” robin's voice breaking you out of your trance, choosing to focus again on the pictures behind you. you still listen. “what’s wrong with you?” a question directed at robin, making her chuckle.

he continues talking to nancy, bringing up how you should all go on a group date after killing vecna and saving the world. he makes it very clear to the girl that he wasn’t dating robin, robin quick to his defend, “platonic with a capital P.” you hear nancy ask about you. she’s obviously interested in him. it takes a while for steve to answer. he stares at your back before his eyes go back to nancy, shaking his head, “i-i can’t” was all that whispered from his lips. two words that were loud enough to wilt the flower in your heart.

“you’ve been looking at that picture for a while now, what? you think he’s hot or something?” robin’s trying to distract you, you know she feels bad. you smile at her, appreciating her efforts, “i don’t know, he’s kind of growing on me,” you tease, “you’re gross,” you two share a laugh that rings throughout the room, finally walking out and into another.

steve looks longingly at you. you're out of earshot when he found himself telling nancy, “i-i would date her it’s just i-i can’t afford to lose her,” nancy looks at him sympathetically, “why do you think you’ll lose her?”

“i lost you, didn’t i?” he points out, his insecurities getting the best of him. he may be steve harrington but that doesn’t save him from the unwanted thoughts of not being good enough. his last relationship being a testament to that feeling. nancy finally removes all the webs, sending him a sympathetic smile. something in his heart twitches, realization dawning upon him.

“great, thanks,” he say, “guess we should, uh- get back to the investigation,” ending their conversation with a line from sherlock holmes he picked up from dustin, he’s pretty sure he said it wrong. nancy shakes her head, smiling at the ground. you’re standing in the hall, not missing the way she blinks her eyes, almost like she’s remembering something. a feeling from the past, maybe?

she finally looks up, making eye contact with you. you notice you’re staring, “s-sorry,” you mutter, walking away and joining the rest of the group. nancy let’s out an awkward cough, following.

the chandelier starts flickering, just like their flashlights earlier, the light, buzzing, “it’s like the christmas lights,” nancy points out. everyone but robin understood what she meant. she quickly explained to her how the lights came to life when will was in the upside down, the events sending shivers down your spine. vecna’s words regarding your selfishness repeating in your mind. that guilty feeling you could never let go of.

“vecna’s here,” you say, catching everyone's attention. steve looks worried, how do you even know that? “i can feel him,” you continued. max agrees.

“he’s just on the other side?” lucas mutters. and then the chandelier goes out. “i think he just left the room,” robin states. questions arise, “did he hear us?,” “can he see us?,” amongst the group. lucas turned to both you and max, making sure you both still had your headphones in. nancy suggests everyone turn off their flashlights and spread out. she really is the brain of this group.

separating into different rooms, robin the first to break the silence, “i got him!” in an instant you were all at her side. flashlight immediately flickering from hers to steve’s, “oh, i think he’s moving. he’s moving! he’s moving,” he confirms, leading the way, all of you right behind him, up the stairs, and “shit, i lost him.”

max notices the light that’s flickering through the doors of the attic. you follow it like a herd of moths. dustin making a good point “hold up, guys. what if he’s leading us into a trap?” no one listens. curses, once again, slipping from the boy’s lips. reaching the top, you’re all face to face with a single light bulb, flashlights simultaneously flickering. the energy increases and the bulb explodes. everyone briskly turns away, steve has an arm over your head, shielding you from the shards of glass that went flying across the room, “let’s get the hell out of here.”

now seated in nancy’s car, right in between lucas and max, the group headed towards eddie’s hideout, promising to bring him food. the sight of the police cars alerts everyone. you all scramble out, nancy leading the way, listening to what the news reporters were saying. another person was found dead – patrick mckinney. you place a hand on lucas’ shoulders, trying to provide some sense of comfort.

the police ended up releasing eddie’s name to the public, the nightmare you were all dreading, looking at each other, “oh man, this is not good. really not good,” steve states the obvious. a static sound from dustin’s walkie comes alive – eddie. the group walks away from the scene as fast as they can. you try to keep up but the sound of your name stops you in your tracks, “y/n l/n,” one of the officers. you signal the rest of the group to keep going. dustin quietly tells eddie to wait. they stop at a distance, all eyes on you.

“hi officer,” you greet.

“what are you doing here?” the officer interrogates, looking at you and back at your friends. you follow his line of vision, your eyes glaring at the group for not following your instruction.

“well, as you see, i was driving around with my friends and w-we saw the cop cars and got curious,” you try to sound as convincing as possible. he nods.

“hmm. you ever heard of ‘curiosity killed the cat’?,” the officer questions you, eyebrows raising.

“are you implying something, officer?”

“it’s just a little suspicious, don’t you think? you were probably the last person who saw chrissy before she died and now you’re here at another crime scene…not looking so good for you,” he explains, jotting something down on his stupid note pad and all you wanted to do was tear it to pieces.

“i’m sorry? are you suspecting that i did this?”

“didn’t you?” before you could reply, another officer is calling for him. he looks at you, “we’ll talk later,” he grumbled, walking away. you hastily make your way back to the group, “what the hell was that?,” steve asks. you brush it away, “nothing, it’s just i now may also be a suspect.”

“what? they have no evidence,” nancy points out, you shrug. “not having evidence hasn’t really stopped them before, they just need someone behind bars, someone to blame,” you state. “i mean, that’s why they’re looking for eddie, right?,” you glance at dustin. in an instant, his back to talking to his walkie.

eddie informs him that he’s at skull rock, “yeah, i know where that is,” steve immediately replies. through the walkie you can tell eddie was shaken up. you wonder how he’d feel if he saw you, you haven’t spoken to him since elementary school, when you gave him a peck on the cheek, confessing your love for him and and he ran away from you, crying about how girls have cooties. your first heartbreak. you don’t give it another second, the group heading to skull rock.

steve and dustin banter, as usual, “dude, i’m telling you, you’re taking us the wrong way.”

“it’s north, im positive, i checked the map,”

“you do realize skull rock… it’s a super popular make-out spot?”

“yeah, so?”

“yeah, well, it wasn’t popular until i made it popular, alright? i practically invented it. we’re heading in the wrong direction” steve argues, walking the opposite way. dustin looks at you, like he’s telling you to call steve back and tell him he’s wrong. you shrug, following steve. the kid was smart but he really did have this one wrong.

“really, y/n? you’re betraying me and my compass like this?” dustin sniffled.

“sorry kid but im 100% positive that steve’s right on this one,” you giggled, looking back at him.

lucas looks at you skeptically, “wait… 100%? how are you so sure?” at that, you turn around, quickly catching up to steve. after a few more steps, you finally arrive at your destination.

“boom, bada bing, bada boom. there she is, henderson. skull rock,” steve is proud, “in your face, man, in your stupid, cocky little face,” he continues gloating, you almost feel bad for the kid. “it doesn’t make sense,” dustin mutters. you place a hand on his back, a small smile on your lips. steve tries to get him to accept that he’s wrong, calling him a butthead in the process. even in a life or death situation, those two are still at each other's necks.

eddie jumps out from a tree and you swear you almost passed out, “i concur, you, dustin henderson, are a butthead,” way to make an entrance, you almost roll your eyes. dustin gives him a quick hug, eddie looks behind him.

“y/l/n, you’re here too?,” he comments, an amused expression on his face.

“munson,” you nod, tight lipped. steve glances between the both of you. whatever that little interaction was. he doesn’t like it. he doesnt get to ask how you two know each other, the rest of the group finally catching up. eddie, once again, explains what happened. his walkie, drenched. him, running.

nancy asks him if he remembers what time it happened, the group connecting the dots between the exploding lightbulb and the death of patrick mckinney.

“hey, uh, henderson’s not, uh, cursed, is he?” eddie questions, you all turn your head towards the curly headed boy who was currently pacing back and forth, compass still in hand.

“cursed? nah, he’s fine. mental? absolutely.” steve mocked, still bitter.

“BOOM!” dustin yells, scaring the living hell out of everyone, you can’t take it anymore, “seriously, i don't think vecna’s my biggest problem, you guys are literally going to send me into cardiac arrest,” you scold, looking back at him and eddie. dustin lowers his voice, whispering now, “bada…bada…boom.” steve shakes his head, unamused.

“i was right,” they argue once again before dustin explains what’s been going on with his compass. something about an electromagnetic field.

and a gate to the upside down.

“we’d have a way to vecna. and a shot at freeing max and y/n from this curse,” dustin finishes, giving you a sliver of hope. he starts walking away, steve stops him, pointing out the fact that eddie is still a wanted man. eddie agrees with steve, it was a bad idea, but that doesn’t stop him from also agreeing with dustin, the group now heading to wherever this gate was. you walk for hours until dustin’s compass starts acting funny once again, right at lover’s lake.

you make your way unto the boat that was conveniently there. eddie has a hand out to you “y/l/n,” you take it, needing the support from the rocky boat. steve notices. dustin tries getting on but you all don’t let him. no one let’s any of the kids go. eddie saying that the boat can only hold four people, tops.

steve pushes the boat out into the lake, quickly hopping in, leaving a whining dustin behind, “sorry,” he whispers.

at the middle of the lake, the compass starts to turn in different directions. steve immediately pulls off his socks, getting undressed. you panic, “steve what are you doing?,” nancy finds the words you couldn’t utter.

“somebody’s gotta go down and check this out, unless one of you four can top being a hawkins high swim co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years, then it’s gotta be me. no complaints, all right?” you furrow your eyebrows at him, grabbing his arm, trying to stop him from removing another article of clothing, “no. no. there has to be another way,” your voice, stern. simultaneously, eddie replies, “hey, i'm not complaining. i do not want to go down there,” you glare at him, he puts both hands up, a sign of surrender.

steve continues, getting up and removing his shirt. you can’t help but stare. he always looks good. really not the right time. robin glances between you and nancy, she does not get the hype. eddie hands steve his makeshift waterproof flashlight, snapping you back to reality. nancy tells him to be careful. if nancy can’t even stop him, how could you?

“i swear to god steve, if you die down there, i will find a way to bring you back to life and kill you myself,” earning a chuckle from him. “i’ll come back, i promise,” he tells you, sincerity in his eyes. and then he dove. you keep your eyes on him until it was too dark to see anything. every second that passes feels like an eternity, your heartbeat racing, legs bouncing up and down. the four of you wait, the faint sound of everywhere is the only thing heard, eddie makes a comment, something about everywhere being a good choice of song. you barely care.

steve’s taking way too long. you make your way towards the edge of the boat, trying to spot him.

after a couple more seconds, which felt more like hours, he finally resurfaces, eddie screaming an “oh christ!,” from the sudden, loud movement. serves him right.

“i found it,” steve starts swimming towards the boat, the three glad to hear his sentence. you honestly don’t give a fuck, just glad that he was finally right in front of you. releasing a breath of relief, your hand immediately wrapping around his arm, making sure he was really there.

“it’s pretty wild, it's more a snack sized gate than the mama gate,” steve explains, trying to catch his breath, “but still, it’s pretty damn big.” and then he was gone, the loss of touch causing you to stand up. steve makes his way back up in a second, making eye contact with you before he is dragged under once again. you don’t give yourself time to think, immediately diving in after him, following the bubbles that were created from his screams. the yells for steve’s name above becoming fainter the deeper you go. you’ve never swam as fast in your life, legs kicking as hard as you could to the point where it burns.

everything’s red. this world, laced with branches you only saw in your visions.

steve’s cries swing you into action, grabbing the first paddle you spot, you run towards his direction. bats. they’re circling him. he’s on the ground. you keep running and running, adrenaline coursing through your veins. letting out a cry, you smack one of the creatures away from him. in a second, you notice that the trio have joined you. you’re all trying to get the bats away from him, one has a particularly strong hold on his neck and you can feel your eyes start to water as you crush it over and over again. eddie and nancy watches out for the incoming ones, you and robin still struggling to get the stupid creature off of steve. it wasn’t until a bat made its way unto you that he finally gained strength, biting onto the one around his neck, smashing it to the ground, blood spilling from his lips.

all of you now in action, it feels like a horror movie, the only thing missing was music. shit.

you’re frozen, just now realizing what you did. nancy was the first to march up to steve, asking him if he was okay, “well, they took about a pound of flesh, but other than that, yeah, never better.” the two share a moment, you look away. robin starts talking about rabies and then eddie makes a statement that has you wishing the bats murdered him, “y/l/n, your music stopped playing.” steve is in front of you in a second, turning the player over and over, inspecting it,“no no no, no. fuck!,” he curses, “why did you do that!? are you fucking kidding me!?” he yells at you. he’s angry. you wince, looking at the floor. he’s immediately sorry, eyes softening.

before he could say anything, a group of bats from above startles everyone. “into the woods, c’mon,” nancy thinks quickly, everyone now running, seeking safety, under skull rock. the five of you hid in silence, terrified. as soon as the bats flew by, everyone got back up, steve stumbling back, nancy aiding him in a second. “i’m fine,” slips past his lips as she tries her best to nurse him, ripping off a piece of cloth from the cardigan she was wearing. all you can do is watch, afraid of the fate that now lies ahead of you and the boy you’re in love with. he looks up at you while nancy continues taking care of him. you avoid his gaze.

robin, still on her rabies agenda, tries to distract steve from the pain, “so the good news is i’m pretty sure wooziness is not a symptom of rabies but uhm, if you start having hallucinations or muscle spasms, or-or you start feeling aggressive, like you wanna punch me, let me know,” her voice breaking, you can tell she’s trying her best to fight back the tears.

“robin,” steve shuts her up, grunting, “i kinda wanna punch you,” robin forces her laugh.

eddie makes his way next to you, whispering “sorry.” you look up at him, offering him the best smile you could muster up in this situation, “it’s whatever,” you nod. steve watches. nancy finally wraps the cloth around him, trying to reduce the loss of blood, his eyes going from your figure to hers in an instant. he grunts and you look back at the two, eddie leaving your side.

this world is merely a reflection of the real one. robin suggests going down to the police station for armor and weapons. as always, nancy has a better idea, “i have guns, in my bedroom,” she admits, “a russian makarov and a revolver.”

“yeah, you almost shot me with that one,” steve makes a snarky remark, nancy quick to follow, “you almost deserved it.”

you remember that. you were there. eddie notices your expression fall even more than it already was, still feeling sorry for earlier, he throws steve his vest, breaking the moment between the two, “for your modesty, dude.” a loud rumbling from beneath you causes everyone to fall, eddie saves you from the harsh ground, robin falling right next to you. steve stumbles back into the wall, nancy in his arms. everyone checks to see if everyone’s still in one piece.

your hand goes straight to your head, it feels like someone just shot you in the head, “woah woah woah, y/l/n, you okay?” eddie asks frantically. tears fall down your cheeks, the pain being too much. with no music to distract your thoughts, you can hear vecna from every corner of your mind. steve crouches down right in front of you, terrified. no one knows what’s happening.

a sound of a branch snapping to your right alerts you, “we have to get out of here. he’s here.” you whimpered, a sense of urgency in your voice.

“so guns seem like a pretty good idea to me,” eddie piped, robin quickly agreeing.

“ok, ok,” steve nods, “let’s go to nancy’s, that’s where mike’s player is too,” his eyes are back on you and the state you’re in because of him, “we get that first.”

finally putting on eddie’s vest, he helps you up, leading the way. you stay by robin’s side, putting up a brave front. you didn’t want steve to worry even more.

steve goes up to eddie, “eddie, hey man, uh… listen i just uh wanted to say thanks, for rushing to y/n’s side and saving my ass back there,” the two have a heartfelt moment, “shit, you saved your own ass back there, i mean, that was a real ozzy move you pulled back there,” steve doesn't know who ozzy osbourne is, causing the two to have a quick argument. but then eddie goes back to complimenting him, bringing up how dustin worships the ground he walks on, steve gains a bit of confidence with the newfound information.

eddie confesses that he was jealous of him, describes him as the perfect embodiment of man, and still is super jealous as hell, “which is why i would never have jumped in that lake to save your ass, not under any, uh…normal circumstances,” an honest confession.

another branch snaps, causing the pair to quickly look ahead, at you, relief washing over their faces seeing you still walking between robin and nancy, eyes focused on the ground beneath you.

“the only reason i came in here was because those ladies came in straight after you. now i was too ashamed to be the one who stayed behind, but y/l/n, right there, she didn’t waste a second. not one second. she just dove right in. now,” eddie has the boy’s full attention, “i don't know what’s happening between you two, but if i were you, i would figure it out. cause that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.”

the ground shakes yet again, the pounding in your head stronger, you can feel time slipping away. robin’s hand is quick on your shoulder, keeping you stable as you all try to keep up with nancy’s pace. even in the dark, steve notices every wince you make and after eddie’s incredibly powerful speech, he feels even more awful at his violent reaction. he didn’t even bother to thank you, or ask if you were okay.

finally making it to what seems like the wheelers’ house, nancy, robin and eddie head straight upstairs and into nancy’s room. steve grabs your hand before you could join, you don’t say a word, you’re not too sure what to say right now. he pulls you into mike’s room, searching for his player, and hoping that the boy had everywhere somewhere in his box filled of tapes. he spots both, feeling lucky for the first time, making a mental note to thank mike as soon as he gets out of here.

in one rapid motion, the headphones are back on you, the music instantly bringing a sense of comfort. you watch him, taking in every feature of his pretty face. “i’m sorry,” he whispers, slowly taking a step towards you. “you shouldn’t have followed me in but you did and i-i shouldn’t have yelled at you like that,” you shake your head. you don’t even care about that anymore, you’re just glad you’re here, with him, in what could be the last moments of your life.

“i don’t think you understand,” you find your voice, a quiet hush. finally you look into his eyes, you feel like you haven’t seen them in a while, “steve harrington, i’ll follow you everywhere,” you promised. he feels his heart explode. taking your hands into his.

“i-i have to tell you something before i run out of time,” you say, rushed, his eyebrows furrow at your statement, he doesn’t like it, his grip on your hand getting tighter.

“say it to me when we get out of here, yeah?”

you dont.

“i’m in love with you,” you blurt out. “i’ve been in love with you ever since that halloween night, and y-you don’t have to say it back i know you’re still in love with nancy and that-that’s really okay i just need you to hear it because i might not be able to say it,” he processes your words, feeling various of emotions all at once. happy because the girl he loves, loves him back, confused at the mention of nancy’s name, scared that your last statement will come alive.

he chooses to focus on what he knows.

“i’m not in love with nancy,” he said, you stare at him. “i-i love her, yes, but only as a friend, i-i dont love her like i-,” you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“i-” steve starts to say, you stop him.

“say it to me when we get out of here,” you beg. he sees the fear in your eyes and he can tell that you’re afraid that all of this is just a trick of your mind. so instead of words, he proves it to you with the way he's always known. gently grabbing your face and bringing in into his own. two lips finally moving as one, your hands finding their way to his chest. nothing about this kiss tasted sweet, feelings of desperation traveled through your hearts. desperate for more time. he pulls away for a second, foreheads softly colliding, his fingers rubbing tiny circles on your cheeks as he pulls you in for another kiss, just wanting to taste you over and over again.

then you pull away, eyes wide, shocked, you look up at him.

“did you hear that?”

“what?”

“i think it’s dustin,” you point out. he listens. he hears him. “great, even through the other side of the world he finds a way to annoy me,” you laugh, gently slapping his chest. he looks at you, in awe. he hasn’t heard your laugh in a while. he loves the sound of it. he loves you.

in any normal moment, you would’ve loved to just stay in his arms, laughing for hours and hours. you think back to all the times you guys did just that, not appreciating it enough when you had it. but none of this was normal so you pull away from him and back into this nightmare. you follow dustin’s voice all the way down to living room, yelling his name. steve quickly joins you. the rest of the group questioned yours and steve's sanity until they heard him as well. soon after, you guys figure out how to communicate – the lights. everyone happy at the small achievement.

a plan unfolds – find another gate.

“there’s a gate at every murder site!” dustin yells at the walls. nancy ask’s eddie how far his trailer was. you all grab the bikes placed on the wheelers’ front porch, quickly making your way there, wanting to get out as soon as possible.

finally making it into eddies trailer, an even smaller gate, right at the exact spot of chrissy’s death, greets you. it starts moving, almost like it was breathing. you all stare wondering what the hell is going on. steve checks it out first, making sure you were all behind him.

cheers erupt, when dustin’s face, though upside down, finally comes into view, “BADA BADA BOOM!”

the kids create an improvised rope, consisting of several blankets and bedsheets all tied together. they place a mattress on the landing spot, making sure you all cross through the portal safe, “those stains are uhhh… i don’t know what those stains are,” eddie lied, earning a look of disgust from you, robin, and nancy.

one by one, the group makes it safely through.

robin, eddie then nancy. his eyes are on you. ready to help you up the rope, you step back, “you go first,” you ordered. he really stands his ground this time, “no way, it’s either you go first or we’re both staying here.”

“promise you’re right behind me?” you plead, he places a quick kiss on your lips, “i promise.”

finally.

you’re back on the other side. steve follows right after you. you look at him, a small smile on your face. he mirrors your expression. max comes running towards you, engulfing you into a hug.

a happy celebration.

no one noticed it.

nothing could’ve prepared anyone from the vine that slowly, quietly creeped its way through the portal, wrapping tightly around your ankle, and just like steve in lover’s lake, pulling you straight down, back in the other side.

the portal immediately closes.

steve yells out a series, “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” as he stares at the spot that you were once standing, grabbing dustin’s paddle and feverishly stabbing through the ground. blocked by stronger branches, the wooden oar can no longer cut through it.

“steve-” nancy calls out to him.

“SHIT!,” steve lets out a broken yell, “this is not happening, no, no no,-”

“steve, calm down!” robin catches his attention.

“do not tell me to calm down!” he shrilled, absolutely devastated, “not when she’s stuck down there! and i'm here! and i-i didn’t even tell her i love her!” he’s absolutely wrecked, tears freely flowing, words slipping from his lips, not even caring about the fact he just confessed his love to you to the rest of them.

“we will get her back, steve!” lucas yells, trying to stop his own tears from flowing.

“how?” he looks at the rest of the group, breathing heavily. he’s exhausted.

“we find another portal.”

three

an: bada bing bada boom

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #everywhere we were there #stranger things #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

886 notes · View notes

rat-off-string · 7 months

Text

a friend and i were talking about this and it got me thinking. which Lord in Black would be associated with which nerdy prude? like obviously Pete -> Tinky. but what about the rest.

Instinctually I wanna link Pokey and Ruth cause. girls a theatre kid. But on a deeper level. Ruth being linked with Blinky on account of wanting to be in the spotlight but never auditioning, always watching. Also theyre played by the same person LOLLLL

For Wiggly I could see both steph & grace. "wiggly wants his wrath" yeah well Grace is pretty fucking wrathful at the end there. And in the beginning. And in the middle. But at the same time Stephs color palette is green for the whole thing and I think theres a another fit for Grace.

Grace IMO could make sense with Nibbly. Nibbly's whole thing is like greed & desire, right? and Grace's whole thing. is that she feels Desire ONCE and 5 dead 2 injured. (i could also argue the same thing for Ruth but i refuse to let her be a one-note horny character. my girl deserves better.)

AND WHERE DOES RICHIE STAND IN ALL THIS? I DONT KNOW. I DONT KNOW. maybe Blinky. on account of being stuck in the sidelines (nighthawks mascot, but not on the team). idk.

if i had to settle on it id go: Pete -> Tinky Steph -> Wiggly Grace -> Nibbly Ruth -> Pokey Richie -> Blinky

not suuuper happy with those (i still think Grace -> Wiggly makes a lot of sense but i cant see Steph associated with Nibbly. And Ruth as Blinky makes more sense to me, but IMO Richie really has no other narrative association to any of the LiB's themes besides the vague link to Blinky)

(EDIT) if i didnt have to worry about assigning one each, i'd go: Pete -> Tinky Steph -> No LiB, sorry :( Grace -> Wiggly Ruth -> Blinky Richie -> No LiB either

#npmd #peter spankoffski #stephanie lauter #grace chasity #ruth fleming #richie lipschitz #lords in black #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #nerdy prudes must die

36 notes · View notes

itsaash · 10 months

Text

O'Knutzy Week! Prompt: gardening, smile

I'll be posting parts of the same story each day this week! It's a cubs au where Finn's spending the summer at his parent's house in the Hamptons and Leo is their private chef. Established LeLo. Characters by @lumosinlove, for @oknutzyweek2023

Part 1

Part 2

and now, Part 3

Finn looked up from his laptop, he had been sitting under the big umbrella at the side of the yard going over his latest edits. He noticed the sun had well crested through the sky since he last looked up. But it felt good to finish up those edits and send them back to the author. He took a breath and leaned back in his chair, stretching his back and arms overhead, looking around at the house in the distance and the green of the property all around him.

His eye caught movement straight across the lawn from him, a sunshine yellow hat at the raised garden beds. The soft yellow, wide brimmed hat sat on top Leo’s head, giving him the illusion of even more inches of height. He was wearing overalls, it looked like cotton ones. And thank god for that, a person was liable to melt in denim today. He had a big basket beside him, filling up with produce from the garden. But also a spade? Was he digging something? Finn watched as Leo stood up and used the spade to turn the earth in the garden bed, his arms flexing strongly even from this distance. He bent over to reach for something and Finn jumped up. He couldn’t admire Leo from over here like some sort of creep. Just go talk to him. And get out of the line of sight that makes staring far too easy.

He had found himself doing that, staring. Just gazing at Leo as he moved around the kitchen with such a graceful confidence that it could almost be a dance. Across the dinner table, Leo’s hand around a cup, damp with condensation, how he closed his eyes to fully enjoy the perfect bite of food. And, okaaay, that was enough of that train of thought, he reprimanded himself. He crossed the lawn in easy strides, hands in his pockets.

“Hey, Leo. Whatcha doin?”

Leo looked up from patting down the dirt with his gloved hands. He ran the back of one of his wrists over his cheek, smudging a bit of dirt there. Why did Finn want to reach out and brush it away? He clenched his hands tighter in his pockets.

“Oh hey, Finn. Just getting some stuff for dinner, doing some planting. How’s your work going?”

“Oh, great! Thanks! Ya, I've done what I need to for today.”

“That’s good to hear. You were sitting out here a long time.”

Finn laughed self consciously. He knew he tended to lose track of time.

“Yeah, it was an interesting project and I wanted to get the edits to them for Monday, you know? So I just kept going.”

“Well I’m sure glad you’re done. I was going to bring you a drink, but now you can come in and get one.”

Finn stared as Leo turned back to the garden, seemingly digging shallow rows in nice straight lines. Leo had noticed him? Was thinking about if he was drinking enough? How could he be so sweet? He coughed slightly.

“Whatcha planting there? Isn’t it kind of late in the season for planting?”

Leo kept working as he answered, shaking tiny seeds from a packet and placing them carefully. “For a lot of things it is, but there’s some things that you want to have consecutive crops of, every few weeks. So I’m doing a few more rows of beets and other greens, like arugula, spinach. This is probably the last row of carrots for the season too.”

Finn had never thought about gardening for two minutes straight in his life before, but there was a first time for everything.

“Beets and other greens?” Finn questioned, “how are beets green?”

Leo laughed, covering up the latest tiny seeds with a layer of dirt and patting them lovingly.

“You’re right, I said that in a confusing way. I just meant how you can eat beet greens - the leaves of beets - just like they’re lettuce. There were some in the mixed salad last night.”

“Those were beet greens in the salad last night? Who knew!” Finn reached out a hand to pluck a long, leafy stem from the neat row of beets in front of him. He could see the round curve of the beet starting to appear up through the dirt. Leo looked up from his planting, almost in time, “No! Not that –”

But, Finn had already brushed the leaf off and popped it in his mouth, chewing slowly. His relaxed face rapidly morphed into horror.

“–one,” Leo finished lamely. A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth and he scrunched his eyes shut, whether in laughter or distress … Finn couldn’t tell, given the rather large distraction of one of the worst tasting things he had ever put in his mouth and that was saying something ohmygod.

Finn coughed, spluttered, and looked around frantically, searching for salvation. He dashed to the tree line and spat out the bite as fully as he could.

“Leo, what in the fuck…” Finn said as he walked back, wiping his mouth, eyes wide.

Leo couldn’t help the burst of laughter that escaped his chest at the horrified look on Finn’s face. “It’s only the little ones we eat, Finn. Oh my God, your face.”

“That was so gross!”

“Yes, I imagine it was,” Leo chuckled, reaching for a plant at least a quarter of the size of the one Finn had chosen. “Try this one, maybe it will get rid of the taste.”

Finn reached out his hand, taking the small leaf. He paused, “Promise?”

Leo’s blue eyes locked onto Finn’s soft brown ones and the moment stretched.

“Promise.”

Finn popped the leaf into his mouth, a little relief softening his features.

“How the fuck can the same plant have two so different tastes?”

“Well I don’t know the chemistry of it, but yes, you only eat very new beet greens. Like I said, that’s why I’m planting more. The big ones are left to grow to eat the actual beet, but it’s nice to have another crop of fresh greens too.”

Finn nodded sagely, he wouldn’t forget that lesson any time soon. Rather effective learning technique.

“Do I even like beets?” Finn asked, and cringed, as if Leo would know.

“Well I know a lot of folks don’t, but I’ll try to make something good for you. I like them roasted and served cold with balsamic vinegar and feta cheese. Maybe we’ll do that as a side dish tomorrow. They make such a goddamn mess though, you won’t believe it.”

Finn laughed, “You must hate that.”

Leo looked up at him, and rose from his planting, clapping his hands together to brush off the dirt. “Yeah, I do. You caught onto that, did you? I’ll peel them outside with about a roll of paper towel handy.”

Finn shrugged, “I’ll help you. I don’t mind a mess.”

Leo paused in his gathering of gardening tools and looked at Finn, saw him full to the brim of sincerity.

“You don’t have to, Finn. You’re so sweet to offer, but it is my job. You’re supposed to be able to work, and relax … and not worry about cooking on the weekend.”

Finn cocked his head to the side, not loving the reminder of their power imbalance. He needed to fix that. Somehow. “I appreciate the amazing food you make so much, Leo. It’s more than a job, or like … a service. It’s been a gift. I’ll help you. If you want.”

Leo smiled his sunshine smile and the bitter taste still coating his mouth was worth that smile, that laugh. Being in Leo’s orbit only brought him joy. Finn helped gather up the last of the gardening tools and they walked back to the house across the soft grass.

Leo turned to FInn, “You need a good glass of water to get rid of that taste, and then a strong tasting drink. Maybe sweet tea to cut the bitter? Or maybe cover it up with a strong taste, like a mojito?”

“Afternoon mojitos?!” Finn practically bounced when he was excited, and was even bouncier to see that it made Leo smile.

“Mojitos it is.”

Finn tried to tamp down the silly grin he knew was all over his face, but he couldn’t stop the feeling of bubbles in his chest at the idea of spending the rest of the late afternoon with Leo. And, honestly, he was also quite looking forwards to getting this goddamn horrible taste out of his mouth. Beet greens, indeed. The things he’s do to see that sunshine smile.

#characters by lumosinlove #o’knutzy #oknutzy week 2023 #LionFish bonding #prompt:gardening #prompt: smile #cw food #cw drink #definitely not based off personal experience nope couldn’t be me

51 notes · View notes

lacrimosathedark · 2 years

Text

I have made quite clear how much I adore Jason Peter Todd, despite how frequently he is written terribly. RHATO is Not Good, but pre-Flashpoint was...chaotic for his characterization to say the least.

HOWEVER!

I wish to give my fellow Jaybird lovers some stable ground if they’re looking for decent and consistent Red Hood characterization post-resurrection.

[Fuck you Battle For the Cowl that was a shitshow]

Most people cite the Under the Hood storyline as the best work about Jason. That story was written by Judd Winick. So, here’s a list of stories involving The Boy written by Judd Winick, with short summaries so you know what you’re getting into! And some images because I can’t not.

Batman Vol 1 629: This is not actually Jason, but a Scarecrow hallucination Bruce has, but it still characterizes both Bruce and Tim’s thoughts about Jason and his potential return. It takes place pretty smack-dab between Hush and Under the Hood.

I appreciate the Hush outfit with the white streak. Excellent.

(also Tim looks like a baby and I just want to give him hugs)

Batman Vol 1 635-641 aka Under the Hood Vol 1 Batman Vol 1 645-650 and Annual 25 aka Under the Hood Vol 2 No description necessary; if you know Jason, you know how this goes.

Green Arrow Vol 3 69-72: Red Hood comes to Star City and decides to have a talk with current Speedy, Green Arrow’s sidekick, Mia Dearden.

Contains this gem:

I love him so much he’s such a dramatic bitch.

He changed the scoreboards what the fuck--

And this oof

Outsiders Vol 3 44-46 and Annual 1: Jason provides the Outsiders, specifically Dick and Roy, with intel exonerating Black Lightning/Jefferson Pierce from murder he thought he committed. Jason’s not the center of this story, but I like it a lot.

For my fellow Harper family lovers, 45 has a lot of cute Roy and Lian too, including this part that rips my heart out.

Lian is my angel and I would die for her.

For my fellow Gays, these also have the start of the relationship between Anissa Pierce and Grace Choi

also includes this dumbfuckery:

He’s a dork and I love him.

Batman and Robin (2009) Vol 1 23-25: Red Hood reluctantly teams up with Dickie-Batman and Brat Wonder Robin to save his kidnapped former sidekick, Scarlet.

Please excuse some of the art bullshit; yes, it has ginger Jason, and yes the covers use the dumb pill helmet design. But for the record, he doesn’t actually wear the pill helmet thank fuck, and the hair thing was more for continuity. They were established during Grant Morrison’s run as writer because they don’t do their goddamn homework enough to know ginger Jay is not canon Post-Crisis! Or that even then he chose to dye his hair black! (Yes I’m bitter that’s how they fucked over Talia too UGH)

At least his costume is fixed; it combines the dumb supervillain-y costume with his old biker-y look, and tbh I think it’s really cool. Aside from the bright red guns that look like toys.

Not that that lasts because this is one of if not the last appearance of Jay before the reboot! Thanks, Barry.

[small edit cuz I just can’t with this man]

He’s also a little shit throughout the whole thing. It is his mission to annoy Dick and Damian and it’s great.

BOI--

[end small edit!]

He also gets stripped for...reasons. If you’re interested. I wasn’t, but I know some of yall are nasties (/affectionate) so here’s that.

Red Hood: The Lost Days: Goes more into detail about Jason’s experience between his death and his big return to Gotham. So! Much! Trauma!

Also where this image comes from:

He really said that. So uh...yeah.

He has always been a snarky dorky bastard and I love him very much.

[EDIT ADDITION Thank you @someoneimsure]

Robin 80th Anniversary 100 Page Super Spectacular: Jason’s story is called “More Time”, which is a story with Robin Jason and Red Hood Jason have a parallel story giving Bruce a gift on his birthday. Specifically, fixing his father’s old watch.

I love him. LOOK AT THIS BABY

(He’s talking about the watch but that literally could be said about Jason and ow my fucking HEART--)

Look at this. God I just...sometimes Jason just fills my heart with love and it’s too much. He’s a good boy!

Unfortunately, he and Steph share the space of only having one story which is bullshit. Timmy and Dami both get two, which is totally fair. But Dickie gets four. Rude. Sharing is caring, Dickiebird.

[END EDIT Thank you :33]

FOR NOTE

Things with Jason NOT written by Judd Winick Pre-Flashpoint that are major (but personally I think kinda suck) are Battle for the Cowl, Countdown, and his weird murdery Nightwing phase.

Jason Todd, everybody.

386 notes · View notes

toaarcan · 1 month

Text

I find myself wondering how things would've gone down with the Hagah contest if Greg and Bob had never rejected the idea of the two special edition sets in 2005 being Dume and Nidhiki.

Because let's not kid ourselves, the Hagah contest was a shitshow. TTV decided to run all four subject characters at the same time, and Eljay and Mesonak took the whole thing on their own shoulders, and as a result it took basically the whole of the year. The arguments started almost as soon as the subject for the next contest was chosen, as some people wanted the creative freedom to do whatever, and some people wanted the designs to be restricted so they'd look good next to Norik and Iruini.

Not helping matters was that the first contest had demonstrated that the community's definition of a Toa was wide and the voters wouldn't necessarily choose something that looked good next to its official compatriots- Helryx is a good MOC, but she's built to match up with the Toa Mata, who were built to a much smaller scale than the entirety of the Order of Mata Nui sets, and she ends up at about eye-level with Mazeka, a character who notes her physically-identical Melding counterpart as being "Tall."

If they didn't have Norik and Iruini as a benchmark, though, that goes out of the window. With all six Hagah unseen, then it's highly likely that we wouldn't know anything about what they looked like. We wouldn't know about the metallic armour, we wouldn't know about the reshaped masks, we likely wouldn't even know about the Metru Build thing. Uniformity would go right out of the window, because of sets like the Mahri and 08 Nuva.

The contest would likely be an even bigger shitshow, of course. It took them around a year to do four characters, throwing two more into the mix would probably take even longer. There's a non-zero chance that a six-character contest doesn't finish before Greg gets laid off. However, it may have started earlier without the initial wave of arguments. Or they could've been just as bad for different reasons.

I think there'd still be a bunch of Metru builds in the contest, even without the two sets as a measuring stick, because the contest was just before (and likely contributed to) the tail-end of the fandom-wide obsession with the Metru build as the "Perfect" Toa (it's not, for the record). Without a whole year of incredibly same-y MOCs, and a contest where we had to judge them against each other, that love-affair may have lasted longer.

However, it's also possible that without there being the two sets, the Hagah would've been a lower priority for TTV. There would've been no incomplete team of official sets to round off. Instead, the characters that likely would've been in that position of being the "Missing" members of a team with two official sets would've probably been the Mangai.

I don't think TTV would've been nuts enough to run nine contests at once, but I do think there probably would've been the same arguments about whether a Metru build should be mandatory and what is a Metru build anyway, just about Tuyet instead.

And without the Hagah contest, I don't think we would've had that wonderful moment post-finals where people who had managed to avoid the hellscape that was the actual forums during the voting process got to see that team of six (mostly) new Toa lined up together for the first time in ages, and getting hit right in the nostalgia feels. For all its faults as an actual process, the Hagah contest ultimately did manage to create a team that mostly looks uniform, and mostly looks like they could've been sold as sets back in '05. The one outlier, Bomonga, still looks great too. I love him being the (relatively) biggest bungus of a Toa to ever grace the GSR, and the MOC's quality definitely outweighs the annoying brain gremlin that says "Lego never would've made him like that." Yeah, they wouldn't have, and it doesn't matter at all.

I'm still going to go to my grave insisting that Nidhiki is just Iruini with a green mask and a different weapon.

8 notes · View notes

titleleaf · 2 years

Text

re. that culturaltutor thread on minimalism and beauty

(moving my commentary to a separate post to spare the Tumblr user who reposted the thread, who’s a totally normal antiracist/anti-white-supremacy SFF person -- you can find the Twitter thread in question reposted on their blog but I don’t fault them at all for not spotting this)

This guy is fully being weird about it in a way I unfortunately am not surprised by from a dude with an all-white Classical statue twitter av and the handle “The Cultural Tutor”. I’m very much a maximalist and my idea of a calm space is one that feels cozy and personal rather than one that feels sleek and tranquil, but each of these instances of “character” in design is the product of decades or centuries of advancements in design thought, materials, architectural method, and urban planning. I can point to a dozen instances of thoughtful, sensitive architectural detailing in 21st century architecture in my own city -- bike racks with individual emblems symbolizing historic neighborhoods, sidewalk repairs imprinted with brief poems on each newly-poured slab, elaborate bike bridge fences celebrating local Native cultures and artists, a wall of green plant life in the middle of a skyscraper -- and those are all the product of conscious choices that say something. They, in fact, make you feel something, despite being decidedly minimalist by this dude’s standards and emphatically modern. They would not have been seen in my city in the 1880s or the 1920s and I’m fine with that. There is sensitive, meaningful detail and grace in modern design, and it is safe to say this person is not looking for it.

Piling every example of any disparate preceding period’s artistic and design output (or any of the ones that catch the OP’s eye, wherein you might start to notice some patterns: a 13th century English cathedral, a gold-painted “Victorian” doorbell of who knows what provenance, an English civil architect and engineer’s fancy bench circa the 1870s, an iron telephone kiosk designed by hey another English architect circa the 1920s...) is absurd as grouping all the causes for what we’re perceiving as unpleasant sterility (capitalism, hostile design, passing stylistic fads, changing perceptions of what looks “prestigious” and “expensive”, the most recent several decades in aesthetic thought, lazy landlords giving my entire 1910s-era apartment a shitty paintjob because who needs charming wood detailing. and many more) under the heading of “minimalism, so as not to offend anyone, effacing our (whose?) cultural identity”. Stroking a boner for classicism and the general concept of the past is not the same as insightful commentary on design.

To say that all “minimalist” (read: post-1900? post-1950? predominantly painted white?) design is “soulless” or “has nothing to say” or lacks charm or character rankles me, at the exact moment as Twitter is reckoning with again, statue-avatar trad weirdos making this same argument about degener-- oh, sorry, “modern” art, or why Impressionist art has no meaning and no beauty and its artistic proponents were clearly all draft-dodgers who shirked their patriotic duty in World War One. (No evidence and no chronology on that one, just vibes.) This whole thing is one long shrill dogwhistle about modernity and tradition (guess which political movement is obsessed with those particular themes right now? they are actively recruiting!) and seeing it get re-circulated on Tumblr with a quasi-leftist hat on in the tags about how it’s capitalism that made modernity ugly doesn’t make me happy.

EDIT: Another user has also noted that this dude’s Twitter follows are decidedly sketchy.

https://eelfuneral.tumblr.com/post/688437928734736384/i-hate-boring-homogenous-architecture-as-much-as

Best case scenario, this dude’s a trad and comfortable rubbing shoulders with more overtly-racist/white supremacist/neo-Nazi trads, worst case scenario... yeah.��

#more information than you perhaps require

194 notes · View notes

tabletofruination · 7 days

Text

Expedition Log: Day One at Casseroya Lake

((small ooc note: i unfortunately only have violet for the moment because i am poor and also just have no way of getting scarlet for funsies. so please ignore any inconsistencies in appearance, i tried to make her look canon as possible with what i had <3 thanks in advance!!))

[pt. 1 (you are here), pt. 2]

[initial recording time: 2:59pm]

"Ugh, should I really be recording in this rain? Green's taking a brief nap, yeah, but ugh. If I don't do it now, I'm totally gonna forget..."

Despite the concern on her face, though, she seems more than apt to get her pep up and repositions the camera and makes a cheerful little gesture.

"...Screw it, we'll do it live! Hi everyone, it's Juli!"

Juliana talks easily, despite what seems to be a small rasp in her throat--one could likely excuse it at maybe a bit of sickness taking her, but still being able to speak on despite it. It at least shows the girl is determined, if little else, as she gestures with her hand out to the area.

"Green's taking a little nap while I go exploring outside a bit! Never really been fond of the rain, that one. But I'm over by the watchtower of Casseroya Lake, and the view is just plain stunning! Here, get a good look!"

Juliana seems to reposition the camera, the view going outward as one can hear the girl's energetic steps as she focuses on a few different views from the lake.

"Ehe! The sky's so clear, but it's still raining Fidough and Glameow--but look at that pretty sunlight! Isn't it just gorgeous?"

Juliana's laughter, her vibrance and enthusiasm, it's all very clear in how she animatedly talks about her surroundings--about some of the Pokemon she's seen so far, about how Darling has been able to go for a nice swim and enjoy herself while Guidance keeps a watch--it's a tangent that gets Juliana to laugh a bit, before she seemingly stops herself short.

"--But right, right! This is, uh, supposed to be about my notes for the expedition, right? Right. I'll see if I can edit this out once I do my presentation, but...I don't know, it always makes me super happy to be able to talk about my Pokemon, you know?"

One can hear shuffling as the camera view shifts down a little bit, as if Juliana is taking a seat upon the rainsoaked ground a bit.

"But let's get started with our observations! And, oh, a little bit of history about this place. That's important too, right?"

"So! This place is Casseroya Lake, basically a beautiful haven for water Pokemon to thrive, and home to at least a few of Paldea's great wonders! On one side, you've got the Colonnade Hollow--a place where Dragon and Fighting types tend to come and raise their young before moving to other places, and a pretty common place to find Noibat, if you're looking for them! The dark cave kinda tends to evoke their old home in...Kalos, right? I think that's where they're from originally, at least."

"Then you've got the Gracia Stones, which are probably some of the nicest rock formations you'll find off of the coast of Paldea! I admit, their history isn't something I've learned about yet, but if I had to make a guess...it must've been the den of a great Water type Pokemon, waaay long ago!"

"And then there's Casseroya Falls! It's the connecting point between Glaseado Mountain--" Juliana turns her camera back towards the lake, angling it so a faint view of the mountain can be seen. "--And the lake itself! Water melting down from the mountain comes and graces the lake, welling in it, and connecting all life within it...heehee! Isn't that super cool? It just means that each and every one of us, we're all connected in some way or another--from the water that comes down the mountain, from the lake, and into the faucets of our homes, we are connected in all things. Or...something like that!"

Juliana seems to giggle a bit, brightly as she focuses the shot on the lake again and seems to sigh as the rain continues. If she minds, it doesn't seem obvious in her (admittedly still a little raspy) voice.

"If you can believe it, there used to be a giant, Titanic Pokemon that roamed these parts. The Elusive, False Dragon Titan...which in truth, was actually two Pokemon working in tandem with one another!"

"You see, about a year and a half ago, I was helping a friend of mine with his own research, see--his name's Arven, he makes the best food you could ever ask for! No joke, I'm pretty sure this guy could put any and all of Paldea's sandwich shops out of business if he opened one up. But I shouldn't get carried away! But we wound up finding and fighting this Titan, see? And at first, it was this big, huge Dondozo that had seemed to eat a Tatsugiri! And like, what on earth, right?! Poor little guy was just living his life."

"But you see--the Tatsugiri, it was actually like, waaay smarter than it looked. It was actually controlling the Dondozo from inside of it's mouth, and it wound up fighting us too after we managed to defeat it's big shield! It was the weirdest thing ever! But we managed to find this really special herb in a cave, and--"

"Juliana. Are you going to sit here and talk all day?"

"--Eep!"

Juliana's phone seems to immediately drop into the wet grass as she startles, but it's...strange, almost. The voice in question that speaks up--it's decidedly older in nature, though it's gender isn't exactly easy to determine. But more odd is the seeming...closeness of the voice. And it's qualities, too--it doesn't exactly feel like a voice that has suddenly come up beside someone, startling them while they're talking.

It seems to almost...reverb, in a way that one can't quite place their finger on. It feels there, yet not. Human, but with just enough weirdness to make one question it. It's strange, but the camera's gone dark as Juliana dropped it, and she seems to chuckle no worse for wear.

"Green, come on! You can't go scaring a girl like that when she's in the middle of a story!"

"I am well aware. I simply think there are better uses of your time than simply nattering into a camera about ancient history; writing is a far better medium for such things, no?"

"I mean, I guess..." Juliana seems slightly dejected, though she seems to laugh afterward. "But you lose all of the enthusiasm with writing, you know?"

"Mmm. I do suppose that is a fair point; I acquiesce." Green seems to chuckle, the sound very light and with a quality that seems mature in nature. Like a good hearted, gentle chuckle. "But we should begin our journey to the other side of the lake, if we wish to make it by nightfall."

"Yeah?" Juliana can be heard shifting a bit in the wet grass, seeming to ponder that. "Did you or Guidance find something?"

"I can sense something in the distance. I am not...entirely certain of what the energy is, but it feels real. I believe we may be onto something, if my hunch is correct."

"Wait, for real?! Why didn't you say so sooner?!" Juliana seems to jump up, her voice becoming more distant as she gets off the ground. "Come on, lets get going! If we have Buddy ferry us across, we should be able to get there before night time, right?"

...Oddly enough, Green's voice seems a touch more distant too. Odd, given that there seem to have been no other steps heard...? "That is exactly what I was thinking. We should make haste, then. I imagine the rain will let up in due time as well, and as long as Buddy stays on task, we should be able to make it swiftly."

"Let's get going, then! Oh, I just can't wait...!"

"Ah, Miss Juliana--do not forget your phone! You will need that, won't you?"

"Oh, shoot, right! Hang on a second--"

Juliana seems to pick up the Rotomphone again, the camera a touch blurry from the rainsoaked grass it laid in, but no worse for wear otherwise. There's a brief bit of darkness as she seems to wipe down the camera, starting to walk back while cheerfully signing off.

"Alright, that's going to end the first part of this! But I'll keep all of you posted on what we're able to find next! Bye-bye~!"

The camera ends on an odd shot of the ground--one which had been seen earlier, if only from a distance. Very little seems to be different about it from a glance, but...

...

Odd. Were there always those little buds growing on the ground? If you blink you'll miss them, but hm. How strange.

Either way, the video ends off here.

#pokemon irl #pkmn irl #pokeblogging #rotomblr #irl pokemon #irl pkmn #pokeblog #rotumblr #juliana talks #“green” talks #expedition logs

4 notes · View notes

wheelercore · 1 year

Text

Wheeler name meanings because I just think they're neat

Karen:

Meaning "pure"

Ironic considering her infidelity and Virginia Creel parallels. Virginia meaning "pure virgin maiden" and her being a possible antithesis to The Virgin Mary. This is all tied closely to the standard of women at the time to remain untouched before marriage and obedient to their husbands, only for women's liberation/ the sexual revolution of the 60s-80s to bring about this idea that women had sexual needs and wants too, and it doesn't make them sinful to desire such things.

Ted:

Ted is just a nickname and correct me if I'm wrong, but we don't know his actual first name. Yet, at least. He could either be Theodore (meaning "Gift of God") or Edward (made of a combination of Ead = "wealthy" "fortune" "prosperous" and Wear= "guardian" "protector").

Edward I think being more fitting given the fact that he sticks aggressively to male gender roles being the breadwinner/provider/protector of the family. However, like Karen the name is very ironic, given that Ted doesn't do much more than that. He is defined by doing the bare minimum as a father based on what a father is expected to do in a traditional society. The name is more of a cliche, an expectation, like Karen's.

Edit: Also Karen's implication that she married Ted for security and money and Edward basically translating to "wealthy protector" so yeah, that's definitely intentional.

Michael:

Meaning "who is like God" or "there is none like God".

Now this doesn't make much sense to me on its own so I did some looking into St. Michael The Archangel (as I've heard a lot of people in the fandom discussing it) and I think it's fascinating that Michael is referred to as "the heart" of the party by Will and the St. Michael is known for as the "great captain" who helped church fight against "attacks of the devil", who is often depicted with a sword as a cleric would usually be.

Nancy:

Meaning "grace" or "favor".

Again, interesting because she's hinted at to be the favored Wheeler sibling, as in up until s1 she didn't get into trouble, got good grades, and didn't need to be chastised as often as Mike over the dinner table by Karen. I don't mean this in a golden child-scapegoat way but in a 'the wheelers live in a conservative society and care about keeping up appearances' way. She's the sibling introduced with "normal" interests as opposed to Mike, that's the cliche she is based upon, however she grows much more beyond that.

Holly:

The name is a reference to the holly tree.

The holly does have Christian significance as it's used to symbolize Christmas, the thorny leaves symbolizing Jesus' crown of thornes and the berries representing his blood.

What's really interesting is that it's often confused for another plant, the mistletoe. Another part of Christmas tradition, whoever kisses under the mistletoe will be "blessed by love". Honestly when I saw a picture of a holly plant I thought to myself 'wait isn't that a mistletoe?' and was surprised to find out that actually the image in my head for what a mistletoe looked like what actually a holly (green thorny leaves with red berries).

I've seen it said a few times that Holly was most likely a child the Karen and Ted had to try to save their marriage, enforced by the fact that often when Karen and Ted are pretending to be a happy family they have Holly with them. It's very funny, maybe even purposeful, that she was named after a Christmas plant that is often confused for the other Christmas plant that actually blesses a couple with love. Karen/Ted is bones y'all 😞

#mike wheeler #ted wheeler #karen wheeler #nancy wheeler #holly wheeler #byler #<- please forgive me. target audience.

25 notes · View notes

365days365movies · 2 years

Text

Musical December I: Singin’ in the Rain (1952) - Review

Well...this movie is perfect.

I know, I KNOW, this is the lazy answer, it would seem. But I mean it...this is an amazing film, and I genuinely can’t find any flaws with it. Like, seriously. I’m making this post as a formality, but there’s very little for me to say here. It’s an excellent musical, it’s an excellent film, it’s just excellent.

But OK, I’ll do a breakdown, I promise. It’s a good opportunity to test something out. See, given the fact that I’m covering musicals at the moment, it’s a good chance to change up the review scheme just a little bit. Here’re the changes:

Cast and Acting: Still basically the same, but singing talent and ability will now be included in the criteria for judgement.

Plot and Writing: This is in reference to the overarching plot, the use of music within the plot, and the writing during the spoken portions. Songwriting will be covered elsewhere.

Directing, Cinematography, and Choreography: Just what it looks like; we’re adding choreography to this category.

Production Design and Editing: We’re folding these together this time around. Why? Well...

The Songbook: Yeah, this has to be its own category, since we’re talking about musicals. Obviously, a proper songbook is also a part of writing and choreography, but this category is focused upon the quality of the songs in and of themselves. So, the songbook gets its own category.

And with that...

Check out Parts One and Two for the Recap!

Review

Cast and Acting: 10/10

God, I love these guys. Gene Kelly, Donald O’Connor, and Debbie Reynolds are, individually and together, some of the most enjoyable and charming protagonists I’ve ever seen in a musical. I genuinely love seeing them interact whenever on screen, and in any combination of the three characters. They’re genuinely perfect in terms of their interpersonal chemistry, and just a genuine delight.

And obviously, they’re not the only notable actors in the film. Millard Mitchell shines in the latter half of the film, Cyd Charisse ekes mystique in the “Broadway Montage” sequence, and Jean Hagen...holy shit, Jean Hagen. Jean Hagen is a funny and despicable villain in this movie, and I grew to love her squeaky-ass voice (which is not her real voice, of course). She’s a horrible and petty person, but I had a lot of fun watching her. I had no problems with anyone at any point, seriously.

Plot and Writing: 10/10

The plot is fantastic, and well-done. But the writing! OH, THE WRITING! For a musical film, for a member of a genre with no obligation to use spoken words to get plot and story across, the writing in this movie has no business being as funny as it is! Not only do actors like O’Connor, Kelly, and Hagen say them with such perfect timing and grace, but writers Adolph Green and Betty Comden just genuinely wrote a funny-ass movie! God, some of the lines in this movie are amazing. Any interaction between Hagen and Kelly is bound to be funny in it pure acridity. And O’Connor is just constantly funny. Just...fuck, I love this movie.

Directing, Cinematography, and Choreography: 10/10

THIS MOVIE HAS NO BUSINESS LOOKING THIS GOOD. From Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen’s amazing direction and choreography, all the way to Harold Rosson and his cinematography, the look of this movie is stellar from bottom to top. And I do mean how the film is shot and composed, to be clear. Not only are there some downright gorgeous shots, but the way that the musical numbers and dances are filmed is masterful. That is, of course, on top of the already masterful dance numbers. I will gush about Kelly and O’Connor until the day I die, and about the Cocteau-esque ballet sequence far after that point. It’s stellar. And that still isn’t including the next category!

Production Design and Editing: 10/10

Y;know, I considered giving this one a 9/10, purely on Adrienne Fazan and her editing. That’s because of the Broadway sequence, because I’d roginally thought that it was too long. But honestly, real fucking talk? It’s still a beautiful and flawless sequence! It drags a little, but I wouldn’t skip it at all! And if I were showing this film to anybody for the first time, I’d laud this entire sequence! The production design is stellar throughout the movie, but this sequence is particularly spectacular on that front. So, yeah, even the thing I like the least about the film is STILL too good for me to take a point off. Production and art design are fucking flawless.

The Songbook: 10/10

...WELL? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME, IT’S SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN, FOR CHRISSAKES

Yeah, it’s perfect! The songbook, for literally being cobbled together from older songs and movies, is executed absolutely perfectly. It’s so utterly flawless, that the songs aren’t associated with any other musical but this one! It’s a jukebox musical that broke the fucking jukebox! And during these sections, by the way, I’ll be going into my favorite song of the musical. And for this one, that’s a nearly impossible question. “Singin’ in the Rain” is obviously a timeless classic. I’m a huge sucker for “Good Mornin'” as well, and both “Fit as a Fiddle (And Ready for Love)” and “Moses Supposes” are fun as hell. But I said this was a nearly impossible question.

Holy shit, do I love this song, and this scene.

This is, without a doubt, my favorite song in the film. Not only is the song memorable and a lot of fun, but Donald O’Connor’s vocal and physical performance will never leave me. It’s genuinely one of my favorite sequences in any film, and I love it more than I could possibly express. God...God, I love this movie.

Yeah. 100%. Genuinely one of my top favorites.

Which, yeah, is crazy for the first musical of the month. How in the hell am I gonna top this? Understand, this movie is amazing. If you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend watching it at least once. I’m gonna watch it far more than that. This is one of those movies that, if it’s on, I’m watching it. It’s just unabashedly joyous and happy, and I can’t resist movies like that. Has no business being this good, but it is.

It’s moments like this that I wonder if I’m exaggerating. Maybe the emotions from the film are still lingering, and maybe time will temper my judgement. But I genuinely don’t think so. Just in case, I’ll go into the next one. Gonna be another film from the ‘50s, another film from the long list of musicals I should’ve seen by now, and another musical prominently starring a ghost singer. And finally...it’s a film that I am a little scared to watch.

Next: The King and I (1956), dir. Walter Lang

70 notes · View notes

ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole · 3 years

Text

MariJon Week

Day5: Social Media/Life Swap

It's gone midnight but it's still day 5 somewhere in the world and I've 3% battery left!

This prompt was not playing ball to write but it's done! It's not proof read but it's finished finally!!

Masterlist

Day1 Day2 Day3 Day4 Day6 Day7

____________________________________

Who would have thought a hashtag would have resulted in this. A “small series” of videos. A quick succession of tweets and a “innocuous” request have ended up like this. Even more so that she didn’t really used twitter a whole lot.

Marinette smiled amusedly, her attention to watching the chaos unfold in front of her. If Ayla was upset, then it was her own fault in the first place.

Six months ago:

Miss Bustier’s class were used to Marinette ranting about Akuma designs and costumes. The class had taken to recording these outbursts as a result and posting edited versions on twitter. She had gained her own hashtag because of a particular caped akuma; #EdnaModeHasSpoken

Someone (Alix) had thought it would be amazing idea to ask for requests to have the Parisian Edna Mode “discuss” global villains. Alix and Kim printed off what pictures they could find on the net of them and primed Alya up to record and let Marinette roll.

And oh boy did she roll. She tore into the Riddler’s wrong shade green and purple mix. She praised Lex Luthor on suit colours until she ripped into him on the suit cut. With Prankster she bemoaned the lack of originality of it all, a hybrid attire of Ridder and Joker.

Over the course of a few months almost biweekly Alya posted a new update of “Edna’s” views on the world of villain fashion. The harshest critique came when villains chose poor fashion rather than the poor Akuma victims who were forced by Hawkmoth.

Three months ago:

A new type of request came in to Alya's account. Specifically from @Zombieboy requesting that Edna review Gotham Vigilante's as she had done a tremendous reviews on Gotham's Rogues.

Seeing the pictures Alya had found, Marinette let a high pitch shrill before starting to pace.

"What the… how the… underwear on top of tights?! Where's the Kevlar?! The protection!!!

Traffic light children!!! With not trousers!!!

Is that a tampon on his head?! A swim hat?!

Why skin tight?! They dont have magic! Have they lost their marbles???"

Marinette drew in a deep breathe before releasing

"Capes!!! Are they trying to kill themselves. It's hero 101 no capes?! What are they thinking. They're from Earth … they are from Earth right? Superman obviously copied Batman's fashion sense and he's an alien. The poor man is blind but coping Batman's fashion. It's hideous!!

The only semi decent is tampon head as at least he looks like he has some armour protection. And no Cape. The leather jacket is tolerable but he needs a different cut!"

Marinette's pacing inreased with her disgust and somehow had picked up her sewing scissors and started to wave them around as she got more and more wound up.

"Capes and underwear!! Are they serious about saving the world dressed like that. It's an eye sore. Capes!!

What is with Gotham fashion?!?"

"Em… can you put the the scissors down please?!"

Alya ended up having to stop filming to help Alix try wrestle the scissors from Marinettes grasp.

#EdnaModeHasSpoken #BatmanLostHisMarbles #BatmanVsSupermanFashionCrimes #UnderWearAsOuterwearNoThankYou #CapesNoCapes #EdnaNeedsToPutTheScissorsDown

One month ago:

Some how unintentionally Marinette had managed to get into the middle a Twitter battle between Metropolis and Gotham. @TrueHeir had decided that Gotham had obviously superior fashion crimes than Metropolis stating that being the worst at fashion was a skill that Metropolis didn't have as they had to copy Gotham. Which had caused a backlash led by @BoyOfSteel stating that Metropolis moved away from wearing pants and having a leather jacketed hero first.

The battle online got quite heated until @TrueHeir demanded that the mysterious Edna wade in and settle the debate.

The issue suddenly became that Edna never really had her whole face shown @SassyFox managed to film it in such a way that it was hidden. Edna didn't seem to have Twitter. The way to solve it was to track down @SassyFox.

One week ago:

Jon and Damian via covertly using the Bat Computer managed to track @SassyFox down to Paris. They located a small(ish) area that based on the videos and pictures regularly taken. The pair looked at each other and knew that's where they were heading. They wanted, no NEEDED to Edna to settle this arguement of there's.

Checking that no one was about the pair zeta'd to Paris. They were men on a mission. A mission to resolve this fashion disaster crisis. Was Batman and Gotham or Superman and Metropolis the worst dressed.

They'd spent the day camped out in a local park. But no sign of anyone remotely like @SassyFox. To replenish supplies the pair decided to try out some local cuisine.

Jon insisted on this bakery. All the reviews rated it as one of the best in Paris and he had to try it. Walking in he met with the heavenly delight smells of pastries. He could feel his mouth drooling with the onslaught of sights and smells. He dragged Damian in to look at all the treats hidden behind the glass. Jon was drawn out of his pastry driven haze by a sweet voice asking if he wanted anything. Looking up to the source of the fairy like voice was a cute face. Blue eyes shimmer with amusement and blush coloured gloss graced lips twitch towards a suppressed smile.

"Everything!" Jon responded without thinking. Causing an eyebrow to raise on the girl's face.

"Tt! What Kent means is what would you recommend? Savour and Sweet."

Smiling a broad grin the girl launched into describing the pastries and treats and suggesting recommendations. She packed their goodies up and sent them on there way.

One day ago:

"Morning Jon, Damian, the usual?"

"Please, Marinette. Could you also pack another box on those macaroons you had yesterday as well?"

"Sure things. I take it they were a success?"

Jon nodded in agreement.

Jon and Damian after their first visit and repeatedly ended up at the Dupain-Cheng Boulangerie and Patisserie over the course of the week. Jon was hooked on the sweets and maybe a little (a lot according to Damian) taken by Marinette, the girl at the counter.

"The macaroons were above average."

"That's Dames speak for excellent" Jon cheerful supplied. "Hey Marinette are you on twitter?"

Jon picked up some cursing under her breath something about Alya and she was going to *kill* her before she plastered a fake smile on her face.

"I'm not. My friend uses it all the time though."

"Oh, so you've heard about the Parisian Edna Mode?" Jon cocked his head to the side. Marinette's heartbeat had picked up. Through gritted teeth so responded,

"Yup. I've heard about *Edna* my friends are slightly obsessed with it all. They *adore*her reactions."

She smile loosed at the American pair as the morning rush started to pick up.

"Sorry guys, I best finish your order off and help Maman deal with the queue building."

She effectively concluded the conversation in a polite and effective manner before waving them off with the supplies for the day.

"She knows more than she is letting on."

"Mentioning Edna made her heart beat quicker Dames. Do you think she knows her?"

"It is a high potential. Today we should stay near the bakery as formour hunting grounds."

Now:

Damian and Jon were at the park near the bakery. It appeared Marinette was off today so was missing from the bakery so Jon was "sulking".

By pure chance or coincidence, potentially luck, though the pair saw her enter the park with a group of friends and set up a picnic for them all. One was setting up music to play while others seemed to be playing an elaborate (childish) game of tag. Marinette her self looked gorgeous in a pale pink sundress. She outshone everyone she was with. When Marinette saw them she gave them a wave causing a blush to cross his cheeks.

They were content observing from a distance until Jon grabbed Damian's arm.

"It's her!!!"

Even from the distance, Marinette was mimicking Edna's wound up animated gestures of frustration. Jon could hear the growl and heat in her voice. It was a perfect match. Damian watched while quickly researching Marinette and who the girl filming was. It was all lining up. The final evidence was when a pink hair girl threw herself on Marinette crying out "Em!!" in a similar fashion to the scissor incident. Em wasn't a name but M short for Marinette.

Damian finally had found his mark and was determined to end this war with him being correct. This time it was him dragging Jon towards the girl.

"You're Edna!! You didn't tell us yesterday when we asked about it!"

"Yeah, my gurls Edna what about it. Who are you?" Alya quickly jumped in.

Marinette flapped at Damian, flustered by his bluntness.

"TrueHeir and BoyOfSteel. Edna needs to make a decision on which city has the worst fashion. Gotham or Metropolis. Once that's done this arguement can be settled and we can move on."

"What?!?! Damian??? Jon??? You've come all the way to Paris to resolve that??. What the…" Marinette looked confused at the pair. It seemed extreme to go to so much effort to find her just to settle this.

"You've stalked my gurl!!! You freak!! That's crazy. You're crazy!! All because of an arguement you two got into!!"

"Alya… you may have started it with posting all this?"

Marinette tried to defuse the situation which didn't really work.

"So who is worst?!" Demanded Damian.

"I… errr…." Marinette looked between the two boys. Which ever city she chose wouldn't be the end of this so she needed to think quickly. But she was panicking now….

"Star City!" She cried out.

The boys stopped and looked at her.

"What?!?! No! That's not what we asked. Why? You had to have chose Gotham." Damian was not impressed and about to launch in to integration mode when Alya cornered him and demanded that now he knew that he had to leave Marinette alone.

Jon just stared at Marinette. She had completely changed the rules and cleverly removed potentially tension that could of occured between him and Damian. The bragging right was taken away and handed elsewhere. With that thought Jon gentle grabbed Marinette's hand to get her whole attention. He softly kissed her cheek and smiled playfully at her.

"Sneaky move. Nicely played though Edna."

Marinette grinned up at him, knowing he got what she did before the pair turned around to watch the chaos of their best friends.

#maribat #maribat au #marijon #marijon week 2021 #jon x marinette #marinette x jon #ml x dc #dc x ml

160 notes · View notes

timeforafuckingcrusade4 · 3 years

Text

Obey me lads as iconic quotes (British edition)

Lucifer

"Robert get your fucking breath away its minging" Probably aimed at Mammon alternatively the Disgustang video.

Mammon

"My head does NOT look like a SODDING TIK TAC" new headcannon that the brothers say Mammon has a tik tac head

Levi

"Please everyone share this, me parrots just flown away shes gone! CHANELLLLL! Her names Chanel. She's gone towards the canal please everyone please!" This was definitely Levi when he lost Henry 1.0

Satan

"The BBC are also now embracing this, I apologise for my cats tail." Come on that ones obvious.

Asmo

"I just wanna say one important thing here, I've been treated like an outcast today in this studio. I was put, not in the green room, with all of you. I was dumped outside and I'm gonna say one thing. I'm gonna show you my balls"

"IM CLAUSTROPHOBIC DAREN!!!!"

I couldn't decide between the two

Beel

"Let's see what this tastes like" *puts whisk in mouth*

"Cheeseburger and chips, three pound proper nice and proper bargain as well"

Belphie

"Do you not lose loads of weight because most of your shit comes out the front?" Probably said this to Lucifer or Diavolo at one point

"You're joking. Not another one." Yeah he definitely said this about Lucifer telling him about the exchange students

Diavolo

"When you're from the street theres a term called grass, that you can't do, no man is respected if they're a grass. I'm from the streets so I know" come on he just wants to fit in.

Barbatos

"You won, Jane. Enjoy the money, I hope it makes you happy. Dear lord, what a sad little life, Jane. You ruined my night completely so you could have the money, but I hope you spend it on getting some lessons in grace and decorum because you have all the grace of a reversing dump truck without any tires on. So, Jane, take your money and get off my property."

Simeon

"Great Supine Protoplasmic invertebrate jellies" this is definitely how he avoids swearing in front of Luke

Luke

"Miss can I just tell her? I'm sorry to hear your grandma passed away. I actually am sorry and I am upset about it yeah, but the thing is no one can force me to be mates with you and I don't wanna be mates with you alright?" Definitely Luke to the brothers about Lilith.

Solomon

"Started making it, had a breakdown, bon appetite."

"Never before have I been so offended by something I one hundred percent agree with."

Solomon is now James Acaster I do not take criticism.

#obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me brothers #obey me side characters #obey me shall we date

50 notes · View notes

ironlime · 3 years

Text

60 Years After

So somebody in the tumblrverse posted about their headcannon in which Ned Coats was Sam Vimes' kid having traveled through time. I am a fan of this. It explains a lot. So when I read it back in... April? I then sat down and wrote up this little fanfic thing. And assumed that I could not only get it posted today, but also edit it so that it's not filled with so many of my own headcannons. And is closer to the original material. But L-Space is my job, and it really does do crazy things to time (and space.) On top of that I was really hoping I could post this to that original headcannon post but... I can't find it. So, OP, if you come across this... Well, I'm sorry. I'm more sorry to Sir Terry (GNU), though.

Quick note: my friends and I have found it easier to call Vimes' kid "Wee Sam" than "Young Sam" because "Young Sam" is one of the names (along with Vimesy and Lance Constable Vimes) that Vimes calls his younger self and... yeah. We find it confusing when nerding out about a single series with two different characters called 'Young Sam'. So we Feegle it up. Even though I wouldn't be surprised if 'Wee Sam' is actually a bit taller than his dad.

~ ~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~

“What happened just then, Sarge? You blurred.” Wee Sam said, while he thought Oh so that’s what that looks like.

“You only get one question, Ned,” The man who would be his father looked a little seasick, and Wee Sam knew exactly how he felt. “Now, let’s show Snapcase where the line’s drawn, shall we? Let’s finish it--”

To the majority of people there that day, Sergeant-At-Arms John Keel stood, turned towards the enemy, and charged. To two people, Commander Sam Vimes ran towards Carcer, ready to drag him kicking and screaming into the past. Or the future. Depending on who you asked.

That was what gave Wee Sam his frame of reference, actually. He remembered hearing stories about Carcer, about how his dad had arrested the bastard the day Wee Sam was born. But was this actually May 25th for his dad? Was this weeks before the arrest? Hours? He couldn’t ask. Not yet.

“Glad to see you’ve joined us and are getting along with the Sarge, Coats.” Fred Colon said, touching him on the shoulder as they ran towards the fight.

“Yeah, Fred.” Oh, Fred. Fred Colon had died a few years ago, happy and surrounded by great-grandchildren. But here and now he was young and actually capable of running. And he was running towards the fray.

Sweeper had told Wee Sam to stay away from the center of the fight, and to try not to actually kill anybody, so he stayed on the edge near the unconscious Lance-Constable Sam Vimes who had been hidden by his older, more cynical self. Three men in a battle with the same name, and two of them were the same person. Good thing Wee Sam was the only one who had to really keep track of which of them was where. He certainly didn’t trust anybody else to.

So he fought, in a very curbed way, knocking his adversaries unconscious when he could and doing his best not to step on Nobby Nobbs, who was doing his best to very slowly inch away from the battle while simultaneously pretending to be a corpse. Over by the Watch House, Reg Shoe was doing a much better impersonation of a corpse, seeing as how he was one, but in a couple of hours he’d discover that it just didn’t work for him.

“You’re nicked, my ol’ chum.” It was probably because he had been listening for it, but his father’s whisper carried. Nobody else seemed to hear it, and nobody but Wee Sam turned in time to see the two men vanish. In the same instant, a single body appeared on the ground near where they had been. So, now that he had seen that through, there was one more…

A dark grey-green shadow passed by his shoulder, and his mind registered Uncle Havelock before adding the word Young.

Havelock Vetinari ran into the fight, cutting down Carcer’s men much more brazenly than the Assassin's Guild would like, a lilac bud between his teeth. Even in Wee Sam’s time, when Vetinari’s wardrobe consisted entirely of black and everything he did was in moderation, the Patrician indulged in a little drama on a regular basis.

He chose to have Commander Sam Vimes in his life, after all.

There was a sound to Wee Sam’s left, which he recognized though his mind didn’t associate any words with it. It was a sound any human would recognize, even those who first approached the Delta where the Ankh River met the Circle sea thousands of years ago. If Wee Sam had to find Morporkain words for it, and as a Vimes he did like to use his vocabulary, they were Confused, followed by Hurt followed by… wait for it… there it was. Anger.

Wee Sam could make that noise, though he rarely did. His father’s upbringing, on the other hand, had been considerably less balanced. The kid who was the source of the sound ran into the center of the fight, and Wee Sam deftly stepped out of his way while pushing an adversary in his way. The boy chopped down the Unmentionable with one graceful movement, and Wee Sam felt that he could safely say that he hadn’t been the one to kill the bastard. And nobody had been so foolish as to tell him to prevent his father from killing anybody.

Vetinari didn’t pause, but he did turn to look at this vengeful newcomer. Vetinari hadn’t been there when young Sam Vimes participated in the first part of the battle, and Wee Sam recognized the young assassin’s look of interest.

Tell me, Uncle Havelock, will you recognize him in 15 years? Or will you need to get him well and truly angry to realize you’ve found him?

Wee Sam knew this wasn’t the first time Havelock Vetinari saw Sam Vimes, but this was probably the first time he saw the potential. That he was more than just That Kid Who Follows Keel Everywhere. I bet you didn’t actually expect him to be so damned smart. His father still didn’t think of himself as intelligent. It was infuriating, especially when he and his father were having a disagreement. A drawn out, decade-long, disagreement.

Young Sam Vimes sent a lot of the Unmentionables running, and Wee Sam cut down any of them which could be seen as ‘coming towards him with a drawn weapon’. Since they were escaping a fight, that was anyone who came within reach not wearing a lilac.

Time travel really can get to a man. He thought, feeling a little cold. There would be no arrests here, just death and fleeing and at the end of the day Sam Vimes, Havelock Vetinari, Fred Colon, Gaskin, and, less literally, Nobby Nobbs and Reg Shoe would all be left standing. That was all that mattered.

He saw Vetinari turn away from young Sam Vimes, who then spun, and for the briefest moment they had their backs to each other, and Wee Sam wished he had his paints. It was a gods awful place to paint, there was a reason battles were always ‘immortalized’ after the fact, but the color and everything was just perfect--

And then the color faded.

“You should have fallen by now.” Sweeper observed from behind him.

“I wanted to see them fight together.” Wee Sam admitted, not turning. He had a notebook on him, and a pencil, but he knew that even with Time paused he didn’t really have it. Not to sit down and do a proper preliminary sketch. He was just going to have to remember.

Vetinari had a stiletto, an assassin’s weapon used to kill up-close. Young Sam Vimes hadn’t learned to dual-wield yet, but he had good instincts for the sword. Wait until you discover the axe.

Sweeper sighed. “Fine, and now you’ve seen it. I’m going to put the time back on and you had better be prepared to drop.”

“Yes yes alright.” Wee Sam shifted slightly, so he could seriously inconvenience the man who he was blocking before he dropped.

“Oh and stop killing people.”

“I’m a Vimes. You knew that when you hired me.”

“Indeed.” Sweeper said, and it took Wee Sam a moment to realize it was an attempt at a Vetinari impression. Before Wee Sam could reply, the color came back, and his adversary frowned in confusion.

“Oi, you blurred!” The man cried.

“This just isn’t your day.” Wee Sam gave the man a wound which might heal, if somebody tended to it within the next 10 minutes, and then fell over in a needlessly complicated way, specifically so he wouldn’t hit Nobby Nobbs.

And when he landed, the boy was looking right at him, frowning. Damn, Nobby was always the brains of Colon & Nobbs.

“You ain’t injured.” The boy hissed at him.

“Try to pick my pockets and you’ll regret it.” Wee Sam whispered back. Of course he wouldn’t dream of hurting Nobby, but the kid didn’t know that. Besides, picking the contents of his pockets back would be a relaxing way to end the day.

Nobby was still frowning at him. “You got eyes like the Sarge...”

“Nobby, get out of here before you get stepped on.” Wee Sam growled in his best imitation of his father, the Sergeant, within the past three days. The kid’s eyes went wide, and he took off running. Wee Sam glanced over to where Vimes and Vetinari were taking care of the last of Carcer’s men, and the color faded once more.

“I hope you are pleased with yourself.” Sweeper said, which Wee Sam took to mean he could stand up and dust himself off.

“Young Vimes and Vetinari live to grow up and become two of the most powerful men in Ankh-Morpork history, Carcer went back to his time more or less accompanied by my my dad so the one can be arrested by the other, your rogue ‘Time Vigilantes’ have been sorted out, oh and I don’t cease to exist either. My work here is d--” He stopped, and watched as Q and some other Technical Monks lay down a man about the same age, size and coloring as Wee Sam. “Wait, so there really was a Ned Coats?”

Sweeper had walked off without him, and Wee Sam jogged to catch up. The old monk didn’t turn to look at him when they were side-by-side, but he did start talking. “Of course there was. He was also from Psudopolis and knew the real Keel.”

“How’d he die?”

“The Agony Aunts, on his first day here. He was the real reason the real Keel accepted a job in Ankh-Morpork. The real Ned Coats was not a good man.”

“Keel... left his home to track down a criminal…” Wee Sam slowed. “That’s what my dad did! As Keel! Only, it was Carcer he had to catch.”

“Time likes continuity.” Sweeper nodded, and thanked Wee Sam quietly for holding the door open as they entered the monastery. Once in the building, color returned, with motion and sounds and smells. They were back in the Present.

The walk through the building was in relative silence, the rumbling of the procrastinators keeping it from ever becoming truly quiet here. Wee Sam could sleep almost anywhere, but the rumbling reminded him of the steam engines back home and Susan’s offer to help him find a job in Sto Lat ‘if he really couldn’t stay in Ankh-Morpork’.

Not long after his parents first met his dad had gotten fired for a couple of days, and his mom had offered to get him a job working for Susan’s parents. Susan had been young then, and sometimes he wondered what kind of person she would have grown up to be with his dad as part of her household staff.

Of course, with his parents living in two different cities, he would have never been born.

His mother would have never left Ankh-Morpork.

Then again, his father had chosen not to leave. He had stayed on the case. He… sorted it out, more or less. He kept Vetinari from getting killed. Had he done that during the battle? Young Sam and Vetinari had been facing opposite directions, had Vimesy blocked any blows aimed at the future patrician?

There was the crunch of stones under his feet, and Wee Sam consciously acknowledged they had arrived at the Garden of Inner-City Tranquility. His eyes swept the space, falling on and acknowledging the Cigarette Pack of Air, the Cat Doings of Disharmony, the Sonkie of Organic Harmony, the Cabbage Stalks of Dim Comprehension, the Discarded Fish-And-Chip Wrapper of Infinity, the Beer Bottle of Pissing Off Sweeper, and….

“The Cigar of Capriciousness is still here.” Wee Sam said, stopping between the door and the bench Sweeper always went to. He tilted his head slightly. “Or… Another cigar. Same brand, same style, smoked the same amount, probably by the same man, at the same angle... but it’s wrapped just a little differently.”

“Is it? I’ve stopped noticing.”

“You haven’t noticed the cigar that’s been smouldering here for the past month?” Wee Sam turned to Sweeper in disbelief. “I understand not paying attention to the condoms and cat doings, but time passes in here!”

Sweeper shrugged. “There is always a cigar. Even if we get rid of it, a new one shows up. If the new one lands closer to the wall, the garden always pushes it to the center.”

“Always? Since, what, the dawn of time?”

“Oh no. Since the day you were born. Or thirty years before. It’s hard to say.” Sweeper was looking at him evenly, and Wee Sam suddenly realized his reaction was being gauged.

“My dad. But…” Wee Sam looked at the cigar. “He doesn’t smoke them anymore.”

“He does. On special occasions.”

“Like what?”

“Your birthday. And when he pays certain visits.”

“He talked you into not keeping me on?” His gaze moved swiftly from the old man to the cigar, and with purpose he stalked into the middle of the garden and brought his foot back, prepared to give the thing a swift kick.

“You did that just fine without his help.” Sweeper’s voice was quiet, but it froze Wee Sam where he stood. “Corporal, we both know you don’t want to do this.”

“The mission is over. Coats is dead. I’m not a corporal anymore.” His foot fell heavily, not coming into contact with the cigar but still sending a spray of stones ahead of them. He scowled as they came sliding back towards him, settling where they had been around his foot. “This job is the closest I’ve ever gotten to what I was made to do.”

“I realize that. I’m sorry.”

There was some silence as the last of the stones slid into place. The procrastinators here were small, used only for the bathrooms in the far right corner, even though the city’s sewer pipe system now meant that they were just inconveniencing themselves in exchange for saving very little money. Wee Sam had done the math.

“Did you tell Susan?” Wee Sam didn’t want to be the one to tell her, but he also didn’t want anybody else to explain that he had squandered this opportunity.

“No. That is your problem, my boy.”

“Good.” Wee Sam squatted down, getting a closer look at his father’s cigar. The smell brought him back to his childhood, and it was comforting if not at all healthy. His mother had never allowed them in the house, but his father smoked them all the time outside and in his office, so the scent clung to his uniform like… Well like Wee Sam had back then. “Please don’t hold… me... against her. She was just looking out for me. She does that. Wish I knew why.”

“She is aware of your potential.” Sweeper said, and Wee Sam was so surprised he looked over his shoulder at the old man. “You’re good at investigating and putting the pieces together. And, some day, you will once again make a very good cop.”

“Someplace other than Ankh-Morpork.” Wee Sam grunted, but the old man shrugged, and he asked, hopefully “In Ankh-Morpork but in the future?”

“That is not for me to say.”

“No, it’s for my father to say.” He glared at the cigar, and then pushed himself to a standing position.

“You know, I didn’t just take you on because Susan asked and there happened to be another Vimes-shaped opening.” Sweeper said as Wee Sam turned towards the door.

“No?”

“I wanted to get to know the man the Theives Guild deemed ‘too dangerous’ for membership.” Sweeper sounded amused, and Wee Sam turned to look at him.

“I keep killing people. Assassin's school graduate, and all.” Wee Sam reminded him, but Sweeper waved the comment away.

“We both know neither of those things are relevant to today’s theive’s guild.” Sweeper shook his head. “Your father is afraid of you becoming him; and, well, so is everyone else. Vimeses walk in and take control. Especially under Vetinari’s influence.”

“And how do you know what my father is afraid of?” Wee Sam asked, narrowing his eyes. He was choosing to ignore the comment about Vetinari’s influence because it was true. After 300 years of cops and / or drunks it took Havelock Vetinari telling his father ‘not’ to investigate three deaths to bring his family name back to the list of the city’s gentry.

“You should ask him.” Sweeper did not ignore the narrowed eyes, but he did meet them evenly. “What he’s afraid of.”

Wee Sam turned towards the door, intending to stalk out, then thought better of it and spun so he was completely facing the old man. “You know what? I think I will.”

Then he ran, took a leap to place one foot on the bench beside Sweeper and jumped so his hands easily grasped the top of the wall. His own momentum brought him sideways, and he hurtled over the top. There was an alley on the other side, and he landed lightly. He was exactly where he expected to be, of course, and took off at a run towards the Cemetery of Small Gods.

And slowed to a walk before he reached the gates. It would not do for him to be out of breath when he arrived at the graves.

Twilight was falling, so his dad would be there, but so would Uncle Havelock and maybe Reg Shoe. Wee Sam was less concerned about how Reg saw him, especially now that he had seen Reg alive, but as far as his family was concerned he wanted to take steps towards appearing dignified. Even though they had known him his whole life, and knew better.

Sure enough, he passed Reg first. The Zombie was carrying a long-handled shovel over his left shoulder, and nodded in acknowledgement. Wee Sam managed to nod back before they passed each other.

He had expected Reg to recognize him. Reg had never noticed him behind the barricade, his father never noticed him behind the barricade, but Wee Sam had been playing Ned Coats for a full month before Sam Vimes had shown up as John Keel. Maybe Reg had never noticed that his father was Keel? How did Zombie memories work, anyway? Their brains certainly weren’t making new pathways… Did vampyre brains make new pathways?

This train of thought kept him pretty well occupied, along with the question of how he could politely go about getting some answers, when he noticed Uncle Havelock and his ‘cane’ striding silently towards him. A simple nod wouldn’t do.

“Good evening, Uncle Havelock.” Wee Sam called, since his mother had drummed into his head that you always greeted your superiors first. Admittedly, this sometimes meant that he approached his uncle with a question about what he would call the color of the sunset above a specific building at that exact moment, or if there was a poison which exploded in a particularly satisfactory fashion, but the patrician never complained. Nor did he complain if Wee Sam wandered in his office and started talking about alternative methods for coding clax messages or an unusual bird he had noticed riding the thermals above the University. And, thank gods, Havelock Vetinari knew that a formal greeting from Wee Sam Vimes meant that he didn’t want to talk.

“Happy Birthday, Wee Sam.” His uncle replied, “I trust you’ll be on time for dinner?”

Oh. That was a reminder. And a warning. “Thank you. Yes, we won’t be long.”

“Good. See you then.” The Patrician nodded, and then passed him.

“Yes.” Wee Sam muttered, and then reached for his pocket watch. When he pulled it out, he saw the time was all wrong and swore quietly. Well, from the graves he would be able to see the Tower of Art, and set his watch to the present. The battle of the lilac boys had been in the mid-morning, and it was most definitely not a quarter to noon.

John Keel’s grave marker was wood, and though it had been replaced often it had never been strong enough to support the weight of an average-sized man. Reg’s, on the other hand, was granite, and he apparently didn’t mind that Commander Sam Vimes leaned against it more and more every year.

Wee Sam didn’t make any noise, he never made any noise, but he could never sneak around his father. Commander Sam Vimes turned his head ever so slightly, and Wee Sam tooka good look at him.

Oh gods, he was so old. When had that happened? True, the last time he had seen his father he must have been about 50, but before that Wee Sam had spent three decades watching his father age and yet… It had never struck him so hard. He never could quite reconcile his memories of young Sam Vimes, that kid who had joined The Watch for three square meals a day and a little extra cash for his family. But he hadn’t thought his father had changed so much.

The old man looked him up and down. “How’d the battle go? After I left?”

Wee Sam stopped abruptly, and looked down at his outfit. He had forgotten to change into the clothes he had left at the monastery. This outfit was a uniform the Monks had given him, so he wouldn’t have the problems ‘accidental’ time travelers experienced with their clothes and meals and things staying in the time they came from. He even still had his lilac, somehow, even though that had come from the past.

“Don’t you remember?” You kicked ass.

His father shook his head. “I remember the original timeline, when Keel died at the barricade. I was pretty sure Coats wasn’t there.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he was, either.”

“I guess Vetinari showed up?” His father smirked. “Had a lilac in his teeth and everything?”

“I thought you didn’t remember it.” Wee Sam frowned.

“I don’t, but he tells me about it sometimes. I think he’s waiting for me to remember, or maybe now he’s wondering why I don’t.”

“Because time travel is a mess.” Wee Sam turned away from his father and looked across the city. He could see his family’s house from here.

“So Sweeper explained it to you?” The interest in his voice was practically tactile.

“No, but I had to run around for a month foiling somebody who had been sent to kill Havelock Vetinari. And it gave me time to wonder.”

“Why it was different the first time around?”

Wee Sam shook his head. “Would I have survived being born if you didn’t go back and meet Lawn?”

There was absolute silence between them, until Commander Sam Vimes quietly swore.

“Sweeper told me you have to think of things as one event in front of another, which is fine, except if you hadn’t gone back in time you wouldn’t have known Lawn was competent. You had heard of him, sure, but he would have never crossed your mind.”

“So we owe your existence to the damn time monks?” There was an angry edge to his father’s voice, but Wee Sam already knew his father was protective as hell. That was how he had gotten into this mess. Sort of.

“No. As far as I can tell, we owe it to some modern young idiots who thought they could go back and kill Vetinari. Time tries to fix things, and so you were sent back in time, to meet Lawn and Carcer went with you and killed Keel so there was a place for you to be and when you were done my life got saved and the monks were able to send me back to save Vetinari’s life and… Time is what it should be. Go us.” There was something about owing his life to terrorists that made him feel sarcastic.

“For all we know Vetinari or Rosie Palm might have recommended Lawn.” His father pointed out, which wasn’t a bad alternative. But it wasn’t what had happened, and there wasn’t really anybody they could ask. At least, nobody who they could ask who would give them a meaningful answer. They both knew Vetinari was a capable doctor, but apparently neither of them could imagine Vetinari getting involved in a problematic birth when there were other competent people around to do it.

More silence. Wee Sam noticed the time on the Tower of Art, and pulled his watch back out. If they were going to avoid talking about the massive argument they had that morning, he may as well take the time to re-set his watch.

“There was the sound of dice.” His father said so quietly that it didn’t initially register.

“Hm?” Wee Sam pushed the pin in, and watched with satisfaction as his watch and the tower struck the time at the exact same minute.

“Before the Library got struck by lightning. There was the sound of dice. Were the people who wanted to kill Havelock associated with a specific god?”

“I… Don’t know. They didn’t say anything about one.” He shut the watch, and shoved it in his pocket. ‘Havelock’ meant his dad was worried. “But there was a thunderstorm, right? Was the sound of dice rolling at the exact moment as the thunder?’

“Yes.”

“Io!” They both said it at the same moment, and Wee Sam felt his heart fall to his stomach. The self-proclaimed King of the Gods had been trying to subjugate their family for a long time. The only reason he had eased up lately was because Wee Sam had trained with the witches in Lancre. And so, to a lesser extent, had his father. It made them harder targets. But Io was still The Thunder God because he had murdered all the others. And then there was the question of who he would be forced to answer to. And how. Neither of the Vimes men had an axe sharp enough for that.

“Damn, why didn’t I realize that?” His father asked the night at large.

“The gods are always playing games. And besides, you had no reason to think Io was responsible for… Well he’s probably not responsible for the Dragon Incident, at least. Or the Goblin Incident.”

“Yeah, but we’ve been operating under the assumption that he was involved in that Dam Slam.” He was rubbing his thumb thoughtfully over the inside of his left wrist, where the Mark of the Summoning Dark had been. When Wee Sam was 8 it had changed, to a symbol generally called the Guarding Dark by anyone who cared to reference it. His father never talked about either Mark, but Wee Sam didn’t blame him. The Marks were indicative of 7 year period which did a number on his view of magic, and his identity.

Speaking of.

“I haven’t told Susan yet, but the monks kicked me out.” He tapped his toe against the grass, bringing it down as softly as he could so it wouldn’t damage the grass. Leggy would be so mad if he damaged his precious ‘terf’.

“Do you want to be a Monk?” His father asked quietly.

“No, I want to be a Watchman.” He whispered. Today was his 30th birthday, though technically he was a month older than that. He felt so much older than that. “But you’re apparently so terrified of me getting myself hurt that you’ve been doing Every Damned Thing you can think of to get between me and that and so I went ahead and tried to join almost any guild in the city and quite a few refused me and I’ve been kicked out of Each. And. Every. One. which would take me and now the only thing I can think of is taking Susan up on her offer to put in a good word for me with the Sto Lat Watch unless you’re going to step in and mess that up too and I wish you would knock it the hells off because as much as I love mum and her dragons I cannot spend the rest of my life working at the damn dragon sanctuary so--”

“Corporal.” His father’s voice was conversational, and somebody who had spent less time listening for the Commander’s voice probably wouldn’t have heard it.

“I’m not finished! Will you--” Wee Sam stopped abruptly. “Is that why you made me a Corporal? You couldn’t have recognized me. I hadn’t been born yet!”

“I recognized potential. And I was right, though you didn’t have as much control as I originally thought. Was all that sparring really necessary?”

“You’ve been standing between me and what I’ve been made to do!”

“And how would 50 year old me have known that?”

“It was easier to fight… him… than you.” Wee Sam grumbled, then realized he was starting to dig up the sod with his toe. Feeling bad about the grass, he brought his toe down in the other direction, to flatten it back down.

“Easier? I kicked your ass. I’d probably have a harder time of it now.”

“I never wondered if I should hold back.” Wee Sam admitted.

“Ah.” The 80 year old nodded. “I know that feeling. I’ve often wondered what it would be like if Vetinari and I had a proper fight when we were young.”

“You could sell tickets and solve all the city’s financial problems.” Wee Sam shifted his gaze to his father. “Actually you probably still could--”

“No. Your mother would have a conniption.”

“Oh right. Yeah, she would. Shame.”

“Do I want to know who you think would win?”

“No.”

“Your faith in me is staggering.”

“Well I figure either it would be a draw or he’d kick your--”

“Yes I understood your answer to my question, thank you.” But he was smiling ever so slightly.

And then the city’s clocks started chiming 9 in the evening. His father pushed himself slowly to his feet, and Wee Sam offered his arm. Cheery had offered to get his father an axe to use as a cane, but Commander Vimes would not hear of it. He did touch Wee Sam’s arm briefly, but once he was standing straight he let go, and the pair of them headed towards the exit.

They didn’t bother to try talking until the clocks had stopped, about five minutes after Wee Sam’s watch struck the hour.

“Did those people who tried to kill young Vetinari have any friends who stayed in our time?”

“I believe so.” They were walking slowly, and Wee Sam waited a full block before he added. “You want me to turn all my information over to anyone in particular?”

“I’m not afraid of you getting hurt.” It didn’t seem like a related response, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t. “I mean, of course I am, but that’s not why I’ve been saying no.”

“Really?”

“I don't want people treating you like a target for their hate for me. If you could join the way Carrot or Angua or Cheery did, that would be fine. But it’s gotten so big since they joined up.”

“Ah.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“I don’t think it would be any better if you joined anywhere else within the Clacks network.”

“Which is pretty much the whole world at this point.”

“And there’s all this scrying now.”

“Which doesn’t need towers.”

His father glared at him, but didn’t tell him to knock it off. “So I suspect your joining a Watch anywhere would ultimately be just as risky.”

“Which is your reasoning for why I shouldn’t bother with Sto Lat.”

“No, my reasoning for why you shouldn’t bother with Sto Lat is that we pay better and have the best medical benefits on the Sto Plains.”

Wee Sam stopped abruptly. “What.”

“You survived the Watch I started out in. As far as I’m concerned, you can handle today’s watch.” The old man stopped and looked back at him. “You’re going to be the oldest cadet though. Because I’m not going to let you jump straight to Corporal. We’re not at war.”

“Right. Yeah. That’s fine.”

“We’re going to be late if you don’t get moving.”

“Right.” Wee Sam managed to keep himself from skipping, so the pent up energy became a jog to his father’s side. They walked in silence, Wee Sam’s mind racing as he wondered if there was some way for him to accidentally mess this up.

“You should give your mother two week’s notice though. It’s only fair.”

“You didn’t run this by her first?” Wee Sam turned to him, shocked.

“Oh we’ve been talking about this for years.” The unspoken word ‘decades’ hung in the air between them. “Her, Vetinari, Carrot, Angua, Cheery--”

“Cheery?”

“She and Igor think you should be in forensics. I mean, it’s your choice of course-- after you pass the tests.”

“Forensics would be great.” He agreed, and thought about how fun it could be to put his Medical and Alchemical and Assassin training to something useful for once. Which reminded him “You know, there is a smouldering cigar in the center of The Garden of Inner City Tranquility at the Monastery.”

“Yeah, it hit me after you left. I had called you ‘sunshine’ during our fight, and Vetinari basically asked how you were handling turning 30, and seeing him standing there with the lilac pinned to his shirt it hit me.” He paused for a moment. “He wore it in the original timeline too, you know. I wish I had asked, but we didn’t get along as well then.”

Wee Sam felt his mouth tug into a half-smile. For his father and the patrician, ‘getting along as well’ involved an increased number of arguments. Also, he remembered ‘Keel’ using that ironic term of endearment during their spar. “You realized I was Ned Coats.”

“So I… walked as fast as I could… to the Monastery and… knocked on the damned door… And threatened to make one hell of a scene if Sweeper didn’t let me in.”

“So of course he did.”

“Of course.”

“And he took you to the garden. And… you told him what you worked out?”

“Actually I just told him that if anything happened to you I was holding him personally responsible. I knew Ned Coats died. I just didn’t know if he died the way John Keel died. I hadn’t stayed long enough to find out.”

“And what did he say?”

“He asked if my holding him responsible was more or less lethal than Susan Sto Helit holding him responsible.”

Wee Sam laughed. “Sweeper hasn’t met mum.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” His father chuckled quietly. “Anyway, Susan will be at dinner so you can tell her all about how the monks kicked you out with an audience. Your mother will find it interesting, I’m sure.”

“Does mum know about you going back...”

“Oh yes. Vetinari can’t keep a secret from her.” And neither could her husband.

“Will there be anybody at the dinner who doesn’t know?”

“Hm, no. I don’t think so. You were the only one who wasn’t in a position to make conversation then, and while Susan wasn’t involved in my adventure as far as I can tell…”

“But with Susan who knows. In any case, I think I’ll wait until we can get some privacy.”

“Suit yourself, but be warned. Everyone knows I told you I was ok with you joining the Watch. They’ll make a big deal about it. You know how they are.”

Wee Sam looked up at the big, brightly-lit, house as they waited for his dad to fully get his breath back. “I’ll try to be strong.”

Commander Sam Vimes snorted. Wee Sam opened the door, held it while his father entered the house, and followed right behind him.

#the glorious 25th of may #night watch #discworld #sam vimes #gnu terry pratchett #fanfiction #john keel #terry pratchett #writing

56 notes · View notes