#jonath

[garscrucible]

Did i cook or nah

[zippyskyfalls]

JONATHAN GROFF>>>>>>>>>

[ciricegh0st]

have you ever considered that jonathan davis dresses like a scooby villain

[parasitoidism]

i need to go chew on a brick

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

TMA Appreciation Week, August 9th: Crossover (100-Word Drabble)

Spoiler alert for MAG 200.

Also for the ninth Doctor. Sort of.

---------

"Ceaseless Watcher, you know why I am here."

Jonah Magnus floated down. "Jon? Is that you? I was having the most wonderful dream."

Jon prepared to stab him. To make things right.

And then a complete stranger in a black leather jacket stepped out of the blue police box in the corner and knocked Jon out cold.

"Jon!" Martin cried, running in.

"It's all right," said the Doctor, and threw the knife away. "Do get him out of here, would you? Just this once, Martin, everybody lives." And with that, he skipped back into his police box and was gone.

@tmaappreciationweek

P. S. I am well aware this wouldn't actually work do not at me.

[the-aila-test]

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One

The drive's short one. 

Steve gets out of his car, opening the passenger door for Chrissy and escorting her up to the house, quietly envisioning what Jason would look like if a real monster got him.

What would he say, staring down the crazy, five-starred head, filled with teeth and drool? Would he turn back? Or run?

(Steve swears he doesn't take great pleasure in imagining Carver getting eaten, but he'll admit to taking a little.)  

"Chrissy do you have any idea--oh." Mrs. Cunningham startles, grasping her robe at the front as she spots Steve standing next to her daughter.  

"Hi Miss Cunningham." He says.

"Hello." She says suspiciously. "And who are you?"

"I'm Steve Harrington, ma'am." He watches as her mother straightens immediately at his name, and sinks right into the ol' Harrington charm, knowing instantly it will work. "I know you were expecting Jason, but I'm afraid he wasn't able to drive Chrissy home." 

"Oh, Steve! It's so late I almost didn't recognize you." She titters, suspicion gone. "Your mother and I are on the same charity board." 

Of course they were.

"I thought you were dating that nice Nancy girl." She says with a squint that mimics Chrissy's, because even in the midst of a crisis he can't escape the gossip that is Hawkins upper echelon. 

"Nance is waiting in the car." Steve lies smoothly. "I just wanted to make sure Chrissy got home safe." 

"What happened?" Chrissy's father appears, ushering them both in while blatantly peering around them, eyes sweeping the street before closing the door.

Steve recognizes the move. He's checking for nosy neighbors. 

"Jason and I broke up." Chrissy admits.

"What?" 

"We..." She falters in front of her parents. 

"What happened to Jason?" Her father asks, tuning back in once they're safely away from peering eyes.

"I'm afraid Jason and some of his friends brought beer to the party." Steve steps in to explain.  

"Oh Chrissy, it's a high school party. That's no reason to break up with him." Her mother fusses, face flushing in embarrassment. Her eyes dart from her daughter to Steve and back, and Steve knows he needs to start damage control. 

If he plays it right he can burn Jason while he's at it. 

"He was horrible, mom. Just awful." Chrissy says, but Steve can tell she's shrinking under her mothers gaze. 

"He drank quite a lot, Miss Cunningham." With a theatrical wince, Steve turns to face Chrissy's dad, lowers his voice and says "I'm going to have to talk to Coach about it." 

He gets the intended response, which is a raised eyebrow. "That bad, huh?" 

Steve nods once, painting a pained smile on his face. "He made a real fool of himself tonight, Sir. The basketball team has a reputation to uphold." 

"Oh." Mrs. Cunningham says, hand fluttering in front of her face. "I never would have thought…"

"He's normally a good guy. I don't know what got into him." Steve has them both eating out of the palm of his hand, attention neatly off Chrissy and onto the story he's feeding them. 

Its worth it to see her shoulders relax. 

"I couldn't let him take Chrissy home in the state he was in Sir, and he got very…" 

Steve pauses. 

Fills his voice with tempered disappointment, channeling his dad. "Belligerent. Said some nasty things."  

"Really?" Mr. Cunningham says, with a low whistle, and Steve knows by his tone alone that he's bought in.

Hook, line, sinker.

Steve nods once. "I have to get back to my girlfriend, but Chrissy'" He turns earnestly here, to let her know he's not faking this next bit. "Let me know if Jason bothers you at school. I'll set him straight again if I have to." 

"Thank you Steve." Mr. Cunningham says, as Chrissy's mom hustles her daughter towards the kitchen. 

Steve shakes his hand, then waves at Crissy as she calls her own thank you over her shoulder, before disappearing out the door and back to his car.

The same one where Nancy very much isn't. 

That's a problem for tomorrow Steve.

xXx

Tomorrow Steve gets into an argument with Nancy. 

She can't recall that Jonathan took her home, or that he's bullshit, their whole relationship, bullshit--

But she also can't tell him she loves him.

So Steve snaps at her. Storms off.

 Play’s more basketball.

It takes less than two hours for him to get mopey and another three for him to spiral into deciding he was wrong somehow.

That's what his mom said all the time anyway, wasn't it? The man's always wrong Steven, and he's the man here so…

He gets flowers, chocolates, and fucking waylaid (by Dustin Henderson with his Grow a Monster) and things go sideways from there.

 Train tracks and a junkyard and demodogs make time speed up. An encounter with Billy and a dinner plate causes Steve's recollection of the evening to be fuzzy. 

He just knows that in the middle of dodging death, he has the realization that Nance wants to break up with him.

That he should let her. 

Even if it hurts, even if he doesn't want to. 

She wants to be let go.

So Steve does. He respects her, and when he has a moment after its all over, he tells her to go with Jonathan.

(At least he permanently gets the squirts out if this. Or at least everyone but Mike.

Even if most of them are shitheads and one of them's Hargrove's step sister.

It's--something.

But when Dustin keeps pestering him, demanding Steve drive him all over Hawkins and then drags him to the movies, well.

It might be the best something Steve's had in his life so far. )

xXx

"Oh shit. Is that from Caver?" Eddie asks, popping up near Steve's car like the clown in a jack in the box. 

"Carver can't hit for shit. This was Hargrove." Steve replies, attempting an eyeroll before remembering that his entire face is a bruise. 

One, giant, never ending bruise. 

"I guess his step sister gave him the slip to come hang out with these kids I watch sometimes. I didn't know she wasn't supposed to be there." Steve shrugs, because it's the technical truth. 

If you turn it sideways and squint anyway. 

"Asshole tried to threaten the kid Max is into by slamming him into a wall and screaming shit, so I stepped in, and--" He waves at his face. 

The same one he's already getting looks for. 

"I was winning." Steve sighs theatrically. "He broke a plate over my head."

The story seemed to freeze Eddie but he recovers with a quick shake of his head. 

"You poor thing." He tuts. "Let me guess--you were more worried about the hair than the wound?" 

Eddie's hands flutter like he's going to touch Steve's head but he seems to contain himself at the last minute.

The hospital threatened to buzz it for stitches." Steve says darkly, playing into the bit. 

(He had not gone to a hospital. 

None of them had.)  

"What would our King be without his crown of hair?" Eddie laments, in a falsetto that was half insult half oddly sincere. It was jarring in that it was hard to get a read on, but the more Steve was around the guy the less it seemed malicious and the more it came off  as just….goofy.

Eddie Munson, Steve decided, was not a freak.

 He was a dorky little weirdo, just like all the other kids Steve now hung out with. 

Just older, and with slightly better hair. 

"Hey Eddie." Another boy calls out, approaching cautiously. 

He's got a leather jacket on, and if Steve thinks hard enough he can sort of conjure up a memory of the guy at Eddie's lunch table, throwing a piece of bread at a pale sophomore decked out in plaid. "You good man?" 

"Yeah Jeff, just checkin' in on the Hair here." Eddie sticks a thumb towards Steve, who raises his hand and waves. 

The falsetto comes back, somehow higher as the older boy swoons over Steves arm. "Soothing his poor soul after that brute Hargrove almost killed him." 

"Has anyone ever told you you're a lot like Bugs Bunny?" Steve asks, the thought leaving his mouth the instant he had it.

(He doesn't care, it's a legitimate question.) 

It has the effect of making Munson look downright chuffed. "I have actually, but only by my Uncle." 

"Why are you checking in?" Jeff interrupts, before seeming to realize he said it out loud. " Ah, I mean--"

"Oh he didn't tell you?" Steve says, as casually as he can muster. "Eddie claimed me and Chrissy at a party last weekend." 

See Munson? Two people could play the weird bit game. 

They've attracted more of Eddie's friends now, two more boys in leather jackets edging closer like frightened deer. 

(One of which is the aforementioned younger man Jeff threw bread at, and Steve vaguely thinks the guy's name starts with a g.) 

"Apparently we're his minions now." Steve tells Jeff in a rather put upon manner. 

"It was just you, the fair maiden chose otherwise." Eddie counters dismissively, voice dropping down low. 

Steve snorts. Hums a sarcastic; "Like you'd let us choose." 

Eddie finally abandons whatever voice that was supposed to be (a villain, Steve thinks, and wonders if it hurts Eddies throat to drop from a false high to a deep low that quickly.)  to say:

 "Mock me all you like, Harrington, but you can't deny the bit worked." 

Steve automatically went for another eye roll, and gets a flash of pain for it. "Who said I was mocking you, you dork? Just stating facts." 

Yet again, Eddie reacts weird to the comment. He looks almost bashful for a second, before he recovers, tugging his hair in front of his face as he plays with it.

The bell rings once in warning, and Steve makes a face towards the doors. 

"I gotta go, Mrs Clicks out to fail me. See you around, Eddie. Jeff." The way his eyes are bruised up he can't quite make out the face Jeff makes at that, but Steve's pretty sure the guys mouth was open. 

"She's a nasty one, my minion, best stay on your toes around her." Eddie calls, and Steve waves a hand in the air to show he heard. 

"What just happened?" Jeff asks, far too loudly for how close Steve still is. 

It makes him chuckle a bit, even as one of the other guys says something in a far quieter voice that has Munson squawking and flapping his arms like a bird. 

The winding little feelings in his chest squeeze his heart, and Steve shakes his head, refusing to be fond of Eddie Munson. 

xXx

College rejection letters come in, one after the another.

Steve could have made it into a few schools he's certain, except he hadn't really applied to any.

Not that any college other than Penn Hurst mattered. His dad wanted him to be a legacy, come hell or high water.

Steve's punishment was hand picked by his parents, and he gets the sailor outfit his new minimum wage job requires is supposed to be a part of it--that his dad made him apply because it was the most embarrassing thing he could think to subject Steve too-- but honestly? 

It's not that bad. 

Not even with Robin, the manager he met yesterday, and who positively, completely and totally, hates Steve’s guts.  

He figures he has time to win her over. 

All the time in the world, now that demons aren't trying to eat his, or any of the kid's, faces. He can focus on the small things. Build himself back up.

Figure out the person he wants to be, now that he's no longer King Steve. 

It’s the thought that kept him from attending any graduation parties. To go felt like backsliding into old habits. 

‘If the kids--if it comes back again--’ 

Getting drunk at night in a random house seemed almost irresponsible.

Particularly not with people Steve has history with, without anyone he really cares about being present. Certainly not Nance and Jonathan, who he wishes he didn’t know are at some end-of-year game night one of Nancy’s friends is hosting. 

(Steve can’t think about that for a number of reasons. 

When he does--because of course he does-- he makes sure to focus on the weirdness that is Jonathan Byers being someone he cares about, instead of the fact he can’t seem to kill his love for Nancy. 

Or that he's horrifically jealous of their relationship. 

That the best sleep he had ever had was between them, two nights after the lab, when they crammed themselves into Jonathan's bed because they all couldn't quite believe it was over.

That night had been so incredibly weird, but grouping together felt safer. Smarter.

Better.

Not in a way Steve wants to put into words. 

Not in a way he wants to confront at all.) 

His parents hadn’t been able to make it home to watch him walk at his graduation--his father landing a last minute meeting with some important person or other. 

Faked apologies were given, money transferred, and Steve, not wanting to sit in his too-huge house, had meandered to Family Video. 

Tried to forget his father’s cold voice in the background of his mother’s call, loudly announcing he’d have made it a priority to see Steve graduate-- if he’d gotten into Penn Hurst. 

Steve just shakes his head. Pushes those thoughts into the back of his head, into the same place all his other weird thoughts live.

The glare he gets from the tall, pimple-ridden guy working the rental counter was expected.

Chrissy Cunningham, was not. 

"I thought you’d be at one of the parties.” He tells her, when he turns down the romance aisle and finds her staring blankly at a shelf. 

She startles, before recognition flits over her face and a warm smile is directed his way. 

“I'm honestly not a fan of parties." She confides in him, hand clutching a tape in her hands."Not those kinds, anyway.” 

"More slumber parties, less keg stands your speed?" Steve guessed, blatantly turning his head sideways in order to read the title.

She awards him with a wider smile. "Exactly." 

"Chrissy Cunningham. Are you renting Jaws?" He teases, leaning in just a touch.

She flushes, but turns and squares up to him. Steve's delighted to see it. 

"Why yes I am. I'll do you one better and even admit it's one of my favorite movies." 

Steve grins at her, and sees the way she lights up on response, eyes bright. 

This is the Chrissy that Carver had tried to kill. The strength and pure fun that radiates off her enhances the beauty she has to something almost otherworldly. 

Steve has seen enough beauty in his life to recognize when it will stay. That Chrissy wil one day be 80 years old, with gray hair and knit sweaters, and she'll still be able to light up a room. 

"Like sharks killing people that much huh?” He teases. And it’s easy, slipping into this part of himself around her. The part he’s been trying to get back. 

The confidence that he walked with, before monsters crawled out of the ground, and Nancy put a hole in his heart.

"I'll let you in on a secret. ." Chrissy leans in, dropping her voice low enough that Steve has to lean in a bit too to hear. "My favorite character is the shark." 

Steve playfully gapes at her, and for the first  time in a long time, feels like things will be okay. 

He’ll be okay.

He won’t be King Steve. He’s not Nancy's Boyfriend Steve either--but someone else. Himself.

A Steve who exists outside of Hawkins High, outside his family name. 

He likes it.

"I told you that was his car. Steve!" A too familiar voice calls and Steve can't mask the despair that hits him as he turns to his (now least) favorite shithead, whose storming through Family Video’s doors. 

"Dustin." He identifies, with an edge to his voice he can only pray Chrissy doesn't pick up on. "Other brats. What are you doing?" 

Mike stands stubbornly at Dustin's right, Lucas nervous at his left. 

Will Byers is situated next to Mike but Steve's not as familiar with him, and has no idea how to interpret the kid. 

If he had to guess based on the face he’s being sent, Will’s more nervous then the rest--but equally determined. 

(This does not make Steve feel better. It in fact, somewhat convinces them they’ve run headfirst back into trouble.) 

"Well we were going to go to Lucas’s, but now, we're bumming a ride from you!" 

"I'm busy." He says flatly. 

"Ste~eeeve!" 

"I didn't know you had a brother." Chrissy says, hand covering her mouth. 

Looking back at her, Steve's pretty sure she's trying to physically hold back laughter. 

If one could shoot lasers with their eyes, Steve would be nailing Dustin for ruining--whatever it was that was happening here. 

"He's a rescue" Steve says flatly. "It’s not working out though. We're planning on returning him to the shelter.” 

"Wow Steve." Dustin returns, offended. "First of all, if anyone's rescuing anyone I rescued you, or did you suddenly forget that you show up to family dinner every Thursday at my house like a sad orpha--mmpphh!" 

‘Mmpphh’ because Steve had taken several long strides across the store to smack his hand over Dustin's mouth. 

"Sorry Chrissy, it would appear the asshole children I am paid to babysit escaped whoever is supposed to be watching them." He shakes Dustins head, in lue of strangling him. “Hit me up later we’ll discuss the shark’s best kills.” 

“Will do.” Chrissy says, as Steve begins the process of shoving his four smaller friends out the door. “Drive safe!” 

“No you don’t, and you’re gonna prove it by swinging through McDonalds for us.” Dustin sing-songs, swinging himself into the passenger side of the Beemer. 

“You assholes owe me, big time.” Steve hisses, as Lucas and Mike instantly begin making kissy faces the second they’re out into the parking lot. "I had plans tonight!"

“Do you have McDonalds money?” Steve asks, only to immediately wince at himself because fuck did he just sound like a soccer mom. 

“I have money I took out of my mom’s wallet.” Mike says as he settles into the car with his friends.

“Fine.” Steve sighs in defeat, starting the car. 

He determinedly does not ask if the idiots walked here, because there is a suspicious lack of bicycles, if only because he hit his mom quota for the day and Steve refuses to say anything else that might edge out his cool persona.

The one he swears he still has.

Supposedly. 

("Does my mom really pay you to watch me?" Dustin asks a while later, when the other brats are distracted. His voice is painfully honest, and softer than it normally is. 

"In food, yes." Steve says, because he’s not that much of an asshole--and maybe, because Dustin is truly his only friend right now.

Steve honestly looks forward to those Thursday dinners, helping Ma Henderson and having her fuss over him in a way his parents never had. 

In a way no one ever had. 

Dustin lands a solid kick to his ankle, making Steve curse. "That's not payment you ass!"

"Ow, God Dustin--" 

"Just admit you're my actual friend, you dick!" 

"Language! I swear your mom stole you from wolves, you animal--" Steve swatted at him. 

Maybe, possibly later, he will go on to admit that yes, Dustin is his friend. 

He will even agree to making up a stupid handshake for it. 

It involves lightsabers and gore at least, which Steve insists is very cool.)

[see-arcane]

I am truly thankful that she is to be left out of our future work, and even of our deliberations. It is too great a strain for a woman to bear. I did not think so at first, but I know better now. [...] I daresay it will be difficult to begin to keep silence after such confidence as ours; but I must be resolute, and to-morrow I shall keep dark over to-night's doings, and shall refuse to speak of anything that has happened.

Jonathan, no, don't give into the guys' peer pressure noooo

It is strange to me to be kept in the dark as I am to-day; after Jonathan's full confidence for so many years, to see him manifestly avoid certain matters, and those the most vital of all. This morning I slept late after the fatigues of yesterday, and though Jonathan was late too, he was the earlier. He spoke to me before he went out, never more sweetly or tenderly, but he never mentioned a word of what had happened in the visit to the Count's house. And yet he must have known how terribly anxious I was. Poor dear fellow! I suppose it must have distressed him even more than it did me. They all agreed that it was best that I should not be drawn further into this awful work, and I acquiesced. But to think that he keeps anything from me! And now I am crying like a silly fool, when I know it comes from my husband's great love and from the good, good wishes of those other strong men.

[...] Well, some day Jonathan will tell me all; and lest it should ever be that he should think for a moment that I kept anything from him, I still keep my journal as usual. Then if he has feared of my trust I shall show it to him, with every thought of my heart put down for his dear eyes to read.

Mina, no, you have to communicate now, in the present, you're you, you can un-acquiesce, you can break the curse, just talk to Jonathan now, noooooo

GOD this is masterfully infuriating work, Bramward Stokerbroker. Here we have on paper just how much this new status quo--the 'proper' status quo--grates against both of them. You can almost hear them grinding their teeth with the effort to keep smiling and nodding through this unanimous* decision. They know it is For Mina's Sake that they are doing this. Sure, they both hate every second of it and it breaks a loving rhythm they've shared for years together, BUT THEY KNOW BETTER NOW :)))

(Lucy is screaming in the afterlife. Renfield has his head in his hands.)

But all that aside, a thing I'm hooked on this read-around is the fact that, hey. We are reading this. Spoiler, but the entirety of Dracula is actually compiled together by Mina after the story closes. These are all written documents we're reading that the entire group has laid eyes on already. With everyone (bar Art and Quincey for some reason, thanks Mr. 3 Lines Allowed and Mr. Laconic :/, Jack is just talking and waiting for Mina to transcribe now, augh) on duty in some way to record the progress of things so that they can be read later as reference...I have to wonder now.

How honest are these pages the Harkers are putting down now versus what they wrote before joining Van Helsing's Scooby gang? Neither one is writing in shorthand. It's all plain English.

I had a class once where one of the assignments was to keep a daily journal. One page filled out every single day, about anything. Anyone want to guess how many personal secrets or honest feelings I put in those pages for the guy grading my class to read? If you said anything higher than 0 you're wrong.

The Harkers have an audience to worry about right now. An audience of Prof. Et Cetera, Dr. Asylum Director (whose asylum they're currently living in! the kind of place where Jonathan could've ended up and innumerable women have been imprisoned for being women the Wrong Way! whee!), Incredibly Wealthy and Empowered Lord, and Mr. Likewise Rich 'We Should Do Guns About It' American. Who all seem to like them, fresh-from-the-lower class, industrious and Dracula-confronting sorts that they are. Fast friends, all of them.

(Jonathan is still only Harker to them. Simultaneously the Man Who Survived Castle Dracula and the gofer guy doing the footwork and the paperwork/property hunt while Van Helsing hits the library and the others...well, I'm sure they're doing something. Other than re-reading the first half of Dracula.)

(...Which was compiled and transcribed by Mina. Who faced down Dracula in her jammies. Unarmed. At night. For Lucy. But she can't handle your scary stories about the houses full of dirt boxes, let alone join you on the hunt she was explicitly prepared and eager to help with. Can't risk it, little lady, off to bed now.)

This is where they are now that they've ~joined forces~ with Van Helsing and the Suitor Squad. After all they've done, all they're still relied on to do, the Harkers are with allies who have had their acquaintance for less than three days. And now, to appease those allies and their opinions and to keep everything placid with these nice, outnumbering, socially and monetarily endowed parties, they do what they've always done when faced with the fact of their being perpetually on the low rung of the ladder.

The Harkers accommodate. Including in their own diaries, as these too are now deemed forfeit important to the Cause, should the gang need to comb back through it all for clues.

That's why the Harkers are the only ones writing it down--because they already were. They're the kids in the group project who can be trusted to do the work. So just let them keep doing it. Keep an accurate record now, kids! You do such a good job of it, we'd only be getting in the way, ha ha. Remember that we can and will read everything you put down in the future.

Hence: All of what we read today. And will read in the dates to come.

The Harkers are writing under a (friendly) gun right now. They can purge some feelings, but not all of them. And not completely. And not in any way that certain doctors and upper class people of power they barely know might misconstrue as ungrateful or mad in any sense. The Harkers are good people. The Harkers are helpful. The Harkers are team players even if that means no longer being a team themselves. They chafe a little at this, but it's all so new to them! It's alright. God's will and Van Helsing's be done. They know better now.

With all this in mind, it makes much more sense why Jonathan chooses to use shorthand for a Very Particular Entry we see coming up. An entry that Mina alone could read and decide to enter in the distant future, after the storm had passed.

And why, in light of all that happens, he cannot trust himself to put more than a vignette's worth of lines down as time goes on. Not if he wants to keep himself from laying out some actual honesty for everyone to read. Mina's entries will be weightier things, while she still has the capacity to write--carefully. Always carefully.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 96

Part 1 Part 95

Mom makes him go home when he starts dosing on Steve’s hospital bed. But it’s okay because she kisses Steve’s cheek before she leaves, and Eddie and Wayne stay parked by his side. 

The connection’s easier now. It’s like all that time straining for Steve has snapped something into place. He can feel them all the time, a warm buzzing in his chest. He wonders if he runs hot now. If the warmth will diffuse through his whole being, make coats obsolete even in the dead of winter. 

Hopper is waiting for them in the waiting room, El burrowed into his side. She looks wan, and tired, drooping into her extravagant coat, eyeliner running down her cheeks like she’s been crying. Something inside him twists when he looks at her.

Before he can untangle that knot of emotion, Hopper stands up, both hands slapping against his knees first the same way Mike’s dad does before he gets up from his recliner. “You ready to go?” he asks, not looking away from Mom. 

When Will glances up, Mom’s smiling up at Hopper in a way he doesn’t want to think about. The adults talk quietly in front, leaving El to stumble tiredly along beside Will. She’s staring at the side of his face. Will can’t bring himself to look back. 

“Steve,” she says, sounding the word out and making it longer like it still tastes foreign on her tongue. “He is okay?”

When Will gets up the courage to look over, her eyes are big and worried. He smiles at her helplessly. It’s almost funny how innocent she looks; like she’s a bunny dressed up in punk clothes. “He’ll be okay.”

She smiles, small and close lipped, but it still beams out of her like the sun. Will tilts his head to the side and tries to see what Mike sees in her. He wants to hide her in Castle Byers, build a fortress around her, and keep her away from all the lab people for the rest of her life. 

Is that howMike felt, hiding her in his basement, giving her frozen eggos and keeping his mouth shut? 

But then her lips thin and she looks forward again. The feelings vanishes. It’s just El, hia friend, despite how much of Mike’s attention she’d snapped up just by being herself. 

“I’m glad,” she says, looking at Hopper’s broad back as she takes two steps for each one of his. 

It’s quiet after that, the way it always is after; all of them too brittle and bruised and bone-deep tired for conversation.

Hopper’s truck rat-a tat-tats itself to life in the hospital parking lot. The radio croons out something quiet and thrumming until Hopper reaches over to shut it off.

El’s heads smushed into the window, vibrating against the pot-holed roads of Hawkins.

Will’s so tired he’s wide awake. 

He watches the familiar buildings of Hawkins flicker by. It's been a long time since knowing his surroundings brought any comfort. 

Monsters could live behind every door, every tree, every smiling face.

He’s not sure any of them will ever feel safe again. 

Will closes his eyes, locking the scenery out so he can focus on the bundle of warmth in his chest. They’re still huddled together, two sparks merging in his chest. 

The past couple days have been a necessary violation of Eddie’s private feelings. He’d bared them all with love confessions and grasping hands, trying to pull Steve back from the edge of immolation. 

He’s not even sure Steve knows, hopes he does. Steve deserves to hold that love delicately between his palms and choose what to do with it. 

He won’t crush it, even if it’s unreturned. He’ll hold it gently like he always does.

Will doesn’t realize he fell asleep, or that they’d arrived home until he’s in free-fall. It feels like one of those falling dreams where you wake up solidly in the middle of your bed, but this time he really is tumbling, only Jonathan’s arms keeping him from hitting the gravel. 

“Are you okay?” he asks shakily as he pulls Will into his chest, holding him tight enough to hurt. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Mom murmurs, wrapping them both up in her arms, chin landing solidly on Jonathan’s shoulder, sandwiching Will between their bodies. “Everyone’s fine, right Will?”

Will murmurs his affirmation, feeling groggy and confused in the light of day. 

“I was with Nancy,” Jonathan whispers. “I was just with Nancy, and you were–I almost–”

“Shh,” Mom cuts him off, reaching up to cradle his face and smile up at him. Will barely catches the edge of his watering eyes from his restricted vantage point between them. “Everyone’s fine.”

“I should have been he–”

“Jonathan,” Mom interrupts again, sharper this time. “Everyone is fine. You deserve a normal life.”

“But Will–”

“I’m fine!” Will cuts in this time. 

Jonathan pulls back, looking down at him with worried, droopy eyes. “And Steve? Mike said he was possessed.”

Will feels that bundle of warmth in his heart, lets it shine through his smile as he looks up at his brother. “He’ll be okay.” As Jonathan droops with relief, Will feels his smile turn cheeky. “Eddie will never let you forget that you were on a date while we were fighting monsters, though.”

Jonathan closes his eyes, pained while Mom laughs. 

It’s not until they’re walking toward the front door that Will notices the lack of demo-dog bodies. There’s still puddles of black oil-slick blood, but everything else looks normal. Who covered their tracks? The lab? Hopper?

He settles down for the debrief, pillowing his head on Jonathan’s shoulder as Hopper’s even tones flit through his brain. 

Maybe familiar places no longer hold any comfort, but Jonathan’s bony frame is enough to lull him into a peaceful sleep.

Part 97

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb @rainwaterapothecary @practicallybegging

[satureja13]

Lenny is taking a break while the others are still over in Jonathan's quarters. They can't wrap their brains around that Sai has a fiancé... He'd have a lot to explain once he wakes up again. But the show must go on. They finally found Tiny Can! After all these months! But how did he end up with Jonathan? The last time they saw him, he was broken. His circuits blew after he'd rescued them out of the Therapy Game, from Ji Ho's evil Grandfather... Kiyoshi: "So how did you find Tiny Can? He got destroyed. And how did you manage to enter the Otherworld and get past the protection - eh... plant-swamp-thing to get to him?"

Jonathan: "I don't know about any of this. Actually, Tiny Can found me. He was utterly broken though. Took me months to repair him. I think I will have built him and therefore he came back to me when he needed help. It carries my signature coding." Jack was wondering how one could not know if he'd built Tiny Can? And what's with that weird time term 'will have built him'? Maybe Jonathan's brain is just as busy and stuffed as his and he forgets things? Then Vlad asked away and Jack forgot about it... This is all so confusing - and exciting! Vlad: "Months? This is so weird. How was he able to host the Therapy Game during this time? There are no issues known. Or any downtimes." Jonathan: "Well, I'm utterly sure that Tiny Can here is not the host of the Therapy Game. There is a save game left on his hard disk though. And from time to time he plays me a message, from you two. Jack and Jeb." Jack: "Oh, that's an old one. Where a future Jeb tells the others they should stay together and how to activate the ship?" Jonathan: "No, it's another one. Maybe I can make him play it again tomorrow. He's still not fully fixed, I fear. Oh my, only Sai could turn an invaluable artefact into a gaming server ^^' "

Jonathan: "Sai was clever to hide his signature so no one could trace the Therapy Game back to him. The Council is eager to get a grip on the developer and stop this game. It made their live so much harder since so many creatures have a community now. And get help. But even though Sai's signature and mine are quite equal, since I'd tought him everything about programming, there are still parts that I only developed after we got separated... And he came back to me, so I could help him..." They fell silent for a while, trying to put it all together... To compute... But they are tired and it's all too much.

Jack: "Well, I guess these are problems for later. The other question is: Who is hosting the Therapy Game now?" Jonathan: "I tried to find out from which Game that one save file is he still kept. It is from the Therapy Game - and it's hosted from everyhere. Literally. It's a giant network that uses 'volunteer computing'. Users from all over the galaxy 'donate' processing space. Maybe you've heard of it. It's often used in science." Jack: "Oh! I installed it too! To find the origins of pizza. Hey, what's that look? We're quite a few. Pizza is too amazing to originate from our little world! There is something bigger behind it!" (Where he's right, he's right ;)

Kiyoshi: "But this means - it's impossible turn off the Therapy Game." Jonathan: "Why would one want to turn it off? It's amazing and has extremely good reviews in the 90's?" Kiyoshi sighed: "Sai is convinced it's a threat. Ji Ho almost died. And even though we know Tiny Can only tried to save him from his grandfather, Sai still thinks it could mess with the players' brains." Jonathan: "It really doesn't. Tiny Can has no evil or corrupted circuit in him. He made very sure everyone is safe and no one can meddle with the code again. There are also disclaimers and the game even checks back if the players are ok all the time and takes measures if it gets uncomfortable for them. The game wraps around the players needs and it adjusts itself. Even though Tiny Can did the majority of the work, Sai - and all of you too - can be so proud of yourself for starting this."

Jonathan looked over to Sai: "I still can't believe I found him. How long has it been since I last saw him? Five years? Six? I thought they'd killed him. Thank you for taking care of him." Jeb cleared his throat: "We are all exhausted. Let's continue tomorrow. Sai should hear about all this too." Jack, towards Jonathan: "You must know Jeb is Sai's..." Vlad interrupted him and hissed: "Jack!" Jonathan: "There is another quarter right across the corridor. I asked the maintenance droids to get it ready for you." Kiyoshi: "Thank you. See you later then."

They left Sai in Jonathan's bed to recover. And when they entered their quarter, there were only five beds. So Jonathan seems confident that Sai will stay with him? Jack's brain thought it's best for him to clear everything off of it and deal with all these crazy news tomorrow. Or later, since they don't know which time it is here on this mining colony in the hazy middle of nowhere. And he's excited and enthusiastic as always. Plus - Jeb should be distracted.

Jack: "Look! The view! And there's Skully! Hey Skully, who's looking after the ship?" Skully: "Malfoy and Axl. Thought you might need me. How's the captain doing?" Jeb said nothing and just went over to his bed.

He sighed: "We should spare Sai from all this. Insisting to keep him as a leader broke him. We even betrayed him for trying to leave without him - to save tiny Can. And he betrayed us for leaving without us - to kill Tiny Can. This is all to much for him. And we can't go on like this. Jonathan will be able to take better care of him than we are. Sai left everything behind for Jonathan. Left his his realm and sold everything he had - to be with him." Vlad: "Maybe you are right. We did what we could to carry the burden with him but it wasn't enough. And he did what he could to be there for us and it broke him. He surely wasn't made for all this madness that comes with us."

Kiyoshi: "And without the meteorites, we can't go back home to the otherworld anymore. It would be safer to split up anyway, so the Council won't see us as a threat anymore. And each couple had their own place to live." Jack went silent. He just knew it. The evening before they'd left home. He'd had this odd feeling and he knew it would be for the last time they'd see their home in Otherworld's Tomarang... Ji Ho: "But what about the message from Future Jeb? He urged us to stay together!" Jack: "Jonathan said there is another message from them. Maybe he tells us that everything is fine now that we've fulfilled our mission to find Tiny Can? Or whatever it was he wanted us to stay together for?" Vlad: "It's useless to wreck our exhausted brains over this now. Let's sleep - and see what tomorrow brings." Ji Ho: "Maybe our mission was to bring Jonathan and Sai back together? It all started after we found Tiny Can in that temple. And he went back to Jonathan when he needed help. And he knew we would try to find him..." Poor Jeb... And Future Jeb even wanted to make it happen. Why? Because he knew they wouldn't last? After all of their break-ups and quarrels?

Skully brought a matching song for them. It goes like this:

'I go dancing on the ceiling sometimes It's always fun but I get scared of the climb Will you catch my fall? Catch my fall?

The notes I play put a stain on my heart Some songs I hate, some I hate even more I act a fool Am I the fool?

So tell me, Eric, does it hurt, hurt? (Uh-huh) So tell me, Eric, does it hurt? (Not at all)

I'm killin' life like a one way ticket to hell I'm on a high goin' down, down, down I wanna wipe that sad, sad feelin' away Down, down, down

I'm killin' life like a one way ticket to hell I'm on a high goin' down, down, down I wanna wipe that sad, sad feelin' away Down, down, down (Oh, oh, oh, oh) (Oh, oh, oh, oh)

The words I sing burn my throat as they leave Desperate measures for these times are in need Do you feel the same? (Feel the same) It's such a shame'

Killin' it - Foxy Shazam (Live version, more bass than in the official one, I love it!)

imo this is one of the most unterrated songs I know. It's only availavle on compilations on spotify o.o So if you liked the kind of songs Skully, the Boys and I played so far, you should give it a try.

Outtakes

The counter scene from the first pic. Behind the window, you can spot Lenny :3

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter 'Goats in Space': starts ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Piglets in Space' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 23-29

[stonathandreamer]

Hair

🔸 Stonathan Masterlist

🔺 My AO3 Account

Summary: Steve and Jonathan reunite at the end of Season 4.

Word Count: 646

A/N: Because I headcanon Steve absolutely loves Jonathan's S4 hair! Also, have a Stonathan fanfic to celebrate Stranger Things day.

"Did someone order pizza?" Mrs. Wheeler asked with a raised eyebrow as a pizza van with a sign that reads 'Surfer Boy Pizza' pulled up and stopped before them. They all watched as the residents inside the vehicle came out.

Steve raised an eyebrow as a dude with ridiculously long hair climbed out of the front passenger seat, followed close by Mike, Will, El, and—

"Jonathan..." He muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. Jonathan's there. Right in front of him. And dear superior force that rules the universe, his hair is gorgeous!

The two groups ran towards each other. Mike ran to his mother's embrace, Will and Eleven to Dustin, and Jonathan to Steve, but they stopped a few inches apart.

"Hi," Jonathan was the first to break the silence, slightly out of breath, but not due to physical exhaustion, it was just Steve's presence that made it hard for him to breathe. Even after years of relationship, his boyfriend still had that breathtaking aura within him.

"Hi," Steve replied shortly after, his voice barely above a whisper. The corner of his lips twitched into a small smile at seeing Jonathan again, in person, after months of being apart, talking through the phone and letters. Now they're here, together. At last. If Mrs. Wheeler weren't near, they'd be hugging and kissing like the world depended on it (and frankly, to them, it kinda does), but this is Hawkins in the 1980s, so best not to take chances, even if Steve's dying to bury his face on Jonathan's neck like he loves doing and Jonathan can't wait to kiss Steve's lips for the first time in months! "Your hair is... Uh, good."

Jonathan chuckled and rolled his eyes fondly at Steve's remark. Oh, he's awful at pep-talking, though Jonathan's not exactly a first-class panelist either.

"Thanks. My mom said it looked like a mop, but I didn't like going to the barber. El said I looked 'Californian,' though."

Steve smiled and nodded his head slightly. Yep, Jonathan looks like a dude from Cali with his hair and that colorful shirt.

"Yeah, you nailed the Californian vibe, Jon," Steve's hand automatically goes for Jonathan's hair, running his fingers against the long and soft strands. How the Hell does Jonathan's hair look so much better than Steve's with little effort?! "So good. Like a puppy's fur."

Jonathan blushes at having his being compared to a puppy's, but he can't hold back a small, albeit generous, and heartfelt smile from creeping into his lips. "Thanks, but yours is still better than mine."

"Nu-uh, dude! Yours is so... Fluffy, soft, and nice like it's made of silk..."

"Okay, that's enough, Steve. I get it, my hair's cool." Jonathan cuts him off, rolling his eyes, knowing Steve's most likely to ramble non-stop about his hair. When Jonathan looks up at Steve's face again, their eyes meet instantly, and at that moment, they both shared the same thought - screw it!

Steve leaned forward, enveloping his arms around Jonathan's waist and burying his face on Jonathan's neck. Jonathan does the same, wrapping his arms around Steve's shoulders and resting his head on his right shoulder, having to stand on his tip-toes.

"I missed you," Jonathan whispers to Steve's ear, making his boyfriend chuckle.

"I missed you too. Hawkins' not the same without you," Steve replied, his voice slightly muffled by the fabric of Jonathan's shirt.

Steve removed his face from the crook of Jonathan's neck to rest his forehead against his. "Welcome back, babe."

Jonathan smiles in return, moving his hand to gently caress Steve's cheek. "Feels good to be back, babe."

When their lips connect for the first time in months, the universe stops moving, like every star and nebula stopped to watch the two boyfriends kiss. And frankly, they should, because Steve and Jonathan are meant to be together. Always.

[insanityclause]

After the grey shipwreck of his Tempest, Jamie Lloyd continues his Drury Lane season with confetti and clubbing and pink pink pink. His production of Much Ado About Nothing – set in an approximate late 1990s – does not touch every note of melancholy that can be heard in this comedy of sparring lovers, but it seizes almost every opportunity for joy.

Hayley Atwell and Tom Hiddleston have long been stage performers as well as Marvels. Cardboard cutouts of their movie characters are winkingly wheeled on at one point, but their performances as Beatrice and Benedick are full-on fiery and fleshy, making sexy sense of a couple who are often more shrivelled and sour, moving easily from wildness to serious romance without dropping a beat of the verse.

Atwell – who proved herself commanding just before lockdown in Ibsen’s Rosmersholm – is candid and clever, roaring in a tawny jumpsuit. Hiddleston, who I first saw 18 years ago in Chiwetel Ejiofor’s Othello making the small part of Cassio remarkable, and who was subsequently a blazing Coriolanus, startlingly expands his Shakespearean range. He persuasively cajoles the audience, lollingly unbuttons his cerulean shirt to seduce his Beatrice, proves a swivel-hipped executor of embarrassing dancing and a nimble physical comic.

Soutra Gilmour’s design opens up the capering possibilities of the production, which is invitingly fuelled by Mason Alexander Park’s throaty disco singing. The stage is dominated for long periods by an enormous rose-coloured balloon in the shape of a heart, an apparently useless object that turns out to be a handy hiding place for our hero, who also apparently vanishes through a trapdoor (hard to see from the stalls) and is certainly buried in a mound of rose-coloured confetti. Even Hiddleston’s doggy carnival disguise (big furry head on one side, lolling tongue) is disconcertingly expressive.

Lloyd has ruthlessly excised the comic subplot involving Dogberry the bumbling constable, and instead suffused the entire stage with humour: Tim Steed is particularly funny as the pissed-off villain. Here is a buoyant lesson in how to put on popular Shakespeare: clear, noisy, direct and infectious. Even the ushers are raving in the aisles.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

[whosegow]

This fundraiser was initially for his house, that was burned down in a fire (possibly arson given current events, but I can't be sure of that) i imagine now that the funds will be reapropriated for funerary funds. It's met its goal of 15,000 but is still going strong. I'm pin ing it for the rest of the month in case anyone wants to donate. I don't. i don't have a huge following, but I want to do what I can. I didn't know Johanthan personaly, I personally, but I liked him. If you can't donate, that's totally fine, but a reblog would be great.

Rest in power, Johnathan.

[kcdodger]

Jonathan Joss was killed by a Homophobic Bigot in a Hate Shooting.

There's no other words for it, and the outlets that are reporting it, aren't fucking reporting the Hate Crime part. This has me fucked up in ways I can't really put into words. But I need to say that the character of John Redcorn matters, not mattered. I need to say that my late great aunt who was a native american, loved John Redcorn. I love that he wasn't a perfect guy. It's the only way I honestly know Jonathan Joss, but it's enough that I'm breaking down over it. I want to vomit. Chip in however you can. I couldn't spare a lot, but I could spare something.

[danepopfrippery]

Pride Center San Antonio is having a vigil tonight 7-9pm which is central time zone (w active daylight savings time).

They are broadcasting it on their fb and insta which are:

https://www.instagram.com/pridecentersa

They directed donations to the previous fundraiser (which was like $12,000 the day he was murdered and now is $22,000)