#&. verse. a thin moon me in a smoke screen sky ( modern / young. )

[trickstercaptain]

       More often than not as of late, Jack and Billy had found themselves on the late shift together ( he didn't know what Billy had bribed the pool manager with to make that happen, and wasn't sure he wanted to know ), and that involved the inevitable task of closing up after all of the snotty little kids and their leering mothers had gone home for the day. The peace and quiet of that final hour was always a welcome reprieve, and in recent weeks the pool building after close had become the one place other than Billy's camaro where they could... indulge without fear of being caught or seen.

       Tonight they'd changed out of their red lifeguard shorts at least ( after all, Jack was getting picked up by Steve after his shift ended in... well, he didn't know the exact time, but it was at least another half an hour from now. definitely ), but Jack could still feel Billy's hand reaching up and under his t-shirt as he remained pinned against the wall of the shower room. He'd been there long enough that water was soaking through the back of the shirt and into his hair but, when the making out was this good, he really didn't care. Keys still in hand ( from where he really ought to have locked up this part of the pool ten minutes ago ), Jack's arms were wound eagerly around Billy's shoulders, keeping him close, moaning a little into the movement of the other boy's mouth on his own. Any moment now, he'd gently push Billy away and finish up the last few jobs before they left. Just as soon as he stopped doing that thing with his tongue, slow and deliberate and maddening all at the same time...

@hargrovetm & @harringtontm

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       “ Sorry, you... have your hand over your mouth. What was that? Keep going? ” Jack managed to keep up the playing dumb act until he'd finished speaking, when a shit-eating grin swiftly bloomed across his face. He'd earn himself a smack or shove for that one, he was sure. Leaning back against the brick wall of the old toilet blocks with a shrug, Jack placed his cigarette back between his teeth, taking a drag of the smoke into his lungs. “ I won't tell anyone. Maybe. ” He seemed to reconsider his stance, his dark, calculated gaze darting in Hera's direction. “ How would you try to convince me not to make an announcement to the entire sixth form, hm? Like when Marchetti asked Maeve to be his girlfriend. I'm very good at spreading rumours, you know. ”

@khrused / cont.

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@shadowcovcn sent: "You almost look as pretty as I do in that skirt. Almost." - carol @ jack but in a tone that is unclear if it's a compliment or a dig

       “ Well I didn't put it on to look ugly, Carol. ” Hands on his hips ( which had somehow miraculously managed to fit into her skirt, despite how tiny she was ), Jack cocked a brow at where she was sat on her bed appraising him with backhanded compliments like Vivienne bloody Westwood. He hadn't really known what to expect when she'd told him to come over "to make Tommy jealous," but he was certain that her temporarily ex-boyfriend wouldn't expect to find him in her bedroom trying on her skirt, bra and makeup. Although, frankly, the bra was horrific and he wanted to take it off as soon as possible. Why women put themselves through that sort of discomfort on a daily basis was beyond him.

       Sparing a glance around her room for a mirror so that he could see exactly how pretty he looked ( seven year old him definitely looked pretty in a dress and heels, and he was sure that seventeen year old him was no different ), it was then that he noticed the camera lying on her bed. Jack's eyes narrowed a little in suspicion. “ If you're going to take pictures to use to ridicule me in front of the school later, at least wait until I put one of your puffy blouses on first. ”

[trickstercaptain]

@heatherbecker sent a meme: let's talk about your dark and troubled past.

       “ You're dreadful at small talk, you know. ” They both stood in the kitchen at some house party, leaning back against the countertop, Jack with a cigarette already halfway lit when Heather had opened her mouth to speak. Off-putting as always. Duran Duran were blasting from a nearby room, but it wasn't loud enough for Jack to claim that he hadn't heard her. Sometimes he wondered why he even put up with her, but he'd made few friends in Hawkins, and the prospect of hanging out with the rest of the swim team, most of whom were in attendance tonight, was so unappealing by comparison that he'd decided he could tolerate her quirks. Jack took a long drag of the cigarette, watching the tendrils of smoke curl around the room as he exhaled. “ I think what you mean to ask is how are you, but no guarantees I'll answer that one either. ”

[trickstercaptain]

@shadowcovcn sent a meme: sounds like you two make a happy couple. - laszlo @ jack in a voice dripping in sarcasm

       He needed a cigarette, or a spliff, or fucking something. A blow to the head, maybe. Something that could sedate him or at least pull him out of this agitated state, pacing up and down outside the dingy London bar that had become their go-to place to either celebrate or hole up, depending on the success of their latest job. The sound of Christophe screaming at him was still ringing in his ears, even though it had been at least an hour and he didn't even know where the man was anymore. He could guess where the man was, though. He could guess that he was still having sex with the two guys he'd caught him with in the room above the bar an hour ago — the precise moment he'd been screamed at, in a voice that had been so loud it had almost certainly carried downstairs to everyone else minding their own business inside.

       Jack had said some not so kind things in return, though as the argument had continued all he'd ultimately wanted was to get away from it. The cold, night air definitely helped, but Christophe's words were still playing on a loop in his brain and he didn't have any cigarettes to hand and he didn't have any money on him because Christophe or one of his cronies usually controlled the purse strings while on one of their operations so it wasn't as if he could even hail a cab and just go home...

       The sound of Laszlo's voice managed to cut through all of the noise in his head — though Jack wasn't sure whether he was really happier to hear it. This wasn't the first time that his friend — and newest initiate to this fabled club of delinquents — had poured scorn all over Christophe, and he was sure that this display wasn't going to help. And besides, Jack really didn't want to talk about it.

       As he turned around to face him, Jack quickly wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. A moment or two followed in silence as he held Laszlo's gaze. His voice, when he did speak, came out quieter than he anticipated. “ I just... I just need to go home. ”

[trickstercaptain]

@thecodekeeper sent a meme: [ RIGHTS ]  sender calls receiver from a police precinct  - teague

       It was always nice when Teague disappeared for an indeterminate length of time — particularly here in Hawkins, where it seemed like it was an impossible feat to stay out of each other's way. When the phone in their peaceful, empty house ( that he had absolutely been enjoying right up until now ) had rung, Jack had known, deep down, what was coming — but hearing that his father was with the moustached chief of police guy he'd seen around town, on a crackly line that made him sound like he was calling from the moon but must have instead been Hawkins police station after getting into trouble really was the hypocritical cherry on top of the hypocritical cake.

       “ I thought this sojourn to the middle of nowhere was meant to be a new start? ” He couldn't make out exactly what Teague was saying, but Jack knew how this would go. Come pick me up. Fetch the emergency cash upstairs to post bail. Drive me home. Really, he'd managed well enough to avoid getting into trouble for years while they'd been in London ( or at least keeping it away from Jack's radar ). What trouble could he possibly be in here, in some small town that nobody cared about?

       Despite his vague curiosity, Jack didn't care enough to try to wait out Teague's explanation. “ You know that I don't have my licence here yet, don't you? So if I drive all the way over to the police station to bail you out, the chief or sheriff or whoever is in charge of this speck of mud will just arrest me too. So, really, it was nice of you to think of me but, ” he managed to carry the phone over to the record player in the living room, before placing the needle down to play whatever record was already in there. Fortunately it was a good one. Surfin' USA by the Beach Boys started playing. Jack turned the volume up to maximum before speaking down the receiver again, shouting on purpose. “ I can't quite hear you. ”

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i'm just thinking today about how jack is an outcast but also simultaneously a social chameleon, and i think it boils down to the idea that he knows and is known by a lot of people ( like it is a functional part of jack's character within the plot that he just Knows People, even if he is universally loathed by them all lmao ), but very few, if any of those people actually Know him. i think a lot about school era jack in modern verse and how he doesn't neatly fit into any clique or category ( which is classic jack behaviour anyway, he doesn't fit into boxes ). he's kinda weird, is a loner and has difficulty forming close friendships, but it's not enough for him to be horrendously bullied or labelled a freak. like i honestly don't think he was really bullied much at school at all, at least directly, because a) he was bullied enough at home and b) he's assertive, strongly opinionated and will give as good as he gets to anyone who tries anything lmao. it's more likely that he encountered problems because he didn't give a fuck and stood up for those who were not confident enough to stand up for themselves.

he plays sports, swims and is good at gymnastics ( and within his hawkins and moordale arcs, is on the swim team ), but you can't characterise him as a jock either because nope. he's very musically inclined and is somewhat of an edgy, rebel delinquent, but is also intelligent af and enjoys reading shakespeare lmao. he's also the sort of straight-talking, somewhat judgemental bitchy type that would probably get along with the popular crowd, even if he's not one of them. and being rather flamboyantly queer, particularly as he's figuring out his sexuality, jack loves hanging out with girls even taking the fact that he dates around/hooks up a lot out of the equation. but being all of those things also means that he cannot latch onto a particular group to call his people. he is known by all of these groups, and can boundary-hop between different parts of the school social strata in the way only a trickster can, but doesn't Belong to any of them — and that's how he ends up outcasted.

[trickstercaptain]

@thiievesandbeggars sent a meme a long time ago: “You are surprisingly calm considering he will hunt you down and kill you.” - christophe B))

       And whose fault is that? Despite the glare that he levelled in the other man's direction, Jack didn't quite give in to the rise enough to actually voice what he was thinking. It would have been beyond stupid to provoke Christophe in close quarters after all ( such as this grungy flat they'd holed up in until the dust blew over after their latest heist ), no matter how much he fantasised about taking a pillow and smothering the other man in his sleep as of late. The rest of this sycophantic gang would only kill him for it, and Jack would quite like to get out of this physically unscathed — even though he didn't really know what life, if any, he had left to go back to.

       But Jack was nothing if not spiteful, and couldn't let the remark go entirely without comment, sat calmly, knees drawn up to his chest, on a windowsill overlooking the street below. Calmly enough that it clearly bothered Christophe. A small victory.

       “ So are you. ” There was no equivocation in his tone: it was intended as a threat. If Teague comes to kill me, he comes to kill you too. “ I was under the impression going with you meant you'd protect me from him. Or was that just another lie? ”

       He knew it was a lie, but he wanted to hear Christophe talk his way out of it. He wanted to watch with his own eyes what he'd refused to see for months.

[trickstercaptain]

         He was going to tell Steve. He needed to tell Steve. What the fuck was he waiting for? He had to tell someone. And who else but Steve?

         Everyone was crowded around Max in the Harrington family living room, discussing who was going to take turns overnight to watch her — understandable, of course, given what they’d all witnessed her go through, and knowing that the Kate Bush track playing in her ears was only a temporary fix until they could break the curse that Vecna had cast over her. But Jack recognised the discomfort in her crossed arms on the couch at the prospect of being fussed over, and he’d now had a glimpse at the horrors that gave her that glassy-eyed stare, too. Horrors that, if the timeline between stalking, terrorising, and killing his victims was the same for his first three targets, would soon be coming for him as well. Less than twenty-four hours between the first vision and being locked in Vecna’s trace, didn’t Max say?

          Jack’s grip on the handles of the carrier bag in his hand tightened, and he finally crossed the room to where Steve was perched on the end of the sofa, arms crossed, watching as Dustin took the lead in assigning them all three hour watches. He gently put a hand on Steve’s arm to draw his gaze and, with a pointed glance towards the hallway, asked him out of the living room for a word.

          As soon as Steve had shut the door behind them, Jack could feel his hold on his self-control start to weaken, slipping through his fingers like the water from Lover’s Lake. “ I saw the clock. At the cemetary. ” A sudden tightness, something that felt an awful lot like panic, formed in the centre of his chest. “ Just after we got Max out. I don’t think he’s happy. ” 

         He didn’t even wait for his boyfriend’s response. In truth, he didn’t think he could face whatever concern was reflected in Steve’s eyes and maintain his rapidly crumbling resolve. Instead, Jack moved at once towards a side table in the house’s entrance hall and began emptying out the carrier bag, full of at least half a dozen music tapes. He then lifted his jumper and unclipped his walkman from his jeans, placing it on the table beside them. His hands were shaking. “ These are all the ones I keep in your car. I might have left one or two back at Dustin’s house, I don’t think there are any important ones in our apartment but I can’t really remember and it doesn’t really matter anyway as we can’t drive all the way back to get them — — ” It was difficult to properly visualise their New York apartment when his mind was so preoccupied by its scramble to pick a favourite song from the ones available. “ I was looking for Bowie but I swear I had more, I don’t know if I left them in the car, I was trying not to draw attention to myself with the kids right there... ”

@harringtontm  

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YOUNG JACK.

Homeschooled until the age of seven by his mother, Jack's life changes overnight when she is tragically killed during a high-speed car chase: Teague uproots the pair from their previously nomadic lifestyle to a house on the outskirts of Central London, and his own grief enables Jack's harsh, overbearing grandmother to gain a foothold in this now fractured family's life and exert her own influence on it. Despite the upheaval, and unreliability of a father who turns to alcohol and his criminal past to cope, Jack does the best he can to get through school and make something of himself with qualifications and a good education.

In spite of a kidnapping and hostage attempt from some of Teague's old associates, Jack nearly manages it -- until he meets a handsome Frenchman, already long out of school, Christophe-Julien de Rapièr. Jack's association with a man he blindly idolises leads him into a downward spiral of crime, alcohol and drugs, until he is betrayed and set up by his something-more-than-friend and the rose tinted spectacles are finally lifted. Jack assists in apprehending him, but must still atone for his part in the man's spate of violent crimes, and undertakes months of community service at a local LGBT+ centre before he can start anew.

He manages that, for a few years, until he is offered a lucrative position as a foreign operative for the East India Trading Company, working out of Tilbury Docks in London, for esteemed businessman Cutler Beckett.

This verse encompasses Jack's upbringing, until the abrupt end of his tenure for the East India Trading Company aged twenty-five, when his flat is set alight and he is forced to flee the country. I tend to default this verse as being set during the late 1970s/1980s, but I am definitely flexible depending on the thread!

[trickstercaptain]

@shadowcovcn sent a meme: “Cravensworth's don’t do dishes.” - laszlo

       “ Oh? So who does, then? The maid? ” He made an exaggerated point of looking around the room for the Upstairs, Downstairs-esque bell he ought to ring for assistance from the scullery maids living below their cramped city flat. Jack wasn't exactly sure when in this... living arrangement, he'd ended up being the one with his hands on his hips bitching about the state of their communal kitchen, but as an ignored only child who'd had the kitchen primarily to himself for all these years, and didn't like sharing at the best of times, it was all starting to get a little ridiculous.

       Laszlo hadn't moved from his position on the couch, meaning that it was clearly time for a different approach. Jack stalked over to where his companion was sat, approaching the sofa from behind, leaning down and winding his arms around the other man's neck. His lips brushed past his ear. “ It's not really doing the dishes, though, is it? You wash the dishes, stack them, dry them, put them away. You don't do them until they're panting, sweating, begging to be done even harder. ” He paused, grabbing a fistful of Laszlo's hair and roughly tugging at it. “ Which I may well be feeling inclined to let you do to me if you go out there and wash the dishes right now, my dear. ” Jack clapped him on the shoulder and withdrew — before glancing covertly at his watch to see if this would be a new record.

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HAWKINS ARC

This arc was written in conjunction with @thecodekeeper and @harringtontm and is therefore instrincally linked to these friends' portrayals of their muses.

This arc diverges from my 'canon' timeline of modern young Jack when he is sixteen, shortly after he is kidnapped and taken hostage by rivals of Teague's criminal syndicate. After this incident, Teague relocates the pair from the UK entirely, moving to quite literally the middle of nowhere (Hawkins, Indiana) in order to lay low for a while. The pair arrive in Autumn 1984 (to coincide with the season 2 timeline).

Teague takes up the job of the music teacher at Hawkins High, while Jack, enrolled into his junior year, desperate to keep his distance from his father at school, ends up joining the Hawkins High swim team. After a tense start, he eventually strikes up a friendship with Steve Harrington. But while he is one of the better swimmers on the team, he is not a natural jock. Living in the shadow of his father's antics and reputation both at school and among town, and his own eccentricities, Jack has to embrace being a social outcast at the school.

During the Summer of 1985, Jack takes up a summer job at the Hawkins pool, where he works alongside Billy Hargrove and Heather Holloway.

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A PROMISED DRABBLE FOR @harringtontm!

                             Were teenagers always this bloody demanding? Here he was with the relatively straightforward job of babysitting Dustin, Max and Lucas --- particularly Max given what they'd all just found out --- until Steve and Robin returned from Pennhurst, and instead of remaining at Steve's parents' house like they'd all been instructed to do for Max's sake, Jack was instead driving them around town like some glorified taxi service. Except that taxi drivers actually got paid for their services --- and also knew the areas they were driving around in: Jack felt a part of his pride shrivel up and die every time he had to rely on Dustin or Max to tell him which way to go.

            It's actually that way to the trailer park. I'm fine, just drive. The graveyard is this way, Jack. Right. No left. No actually wait it is right.

             If this is what Steve had put up with for the past few years, before leaving Hawkins for New York City, Jack had discovered a newfound respect for his patience.

             But they'd made it to the graveyard ( Max's brother was buried here, or so Dustin had told him: he'd died at the town mall two years ago when a giant flesh-eating monster called the Mind-Flayer had attacked their super-powered friend Eleven. Not the strangest sentence he'd heard uttered in the past couple of days, funnily enough ). Jack had parked Steve's BMV up on the path with himself and Dustin still sat inside. Lucas had gotten out of the car, and was sat on the car bonnet watching Max with concern that they all felt. Jack was convinced that driving her anywhere when this Vecna wizard monster thing could... Vecna her at any point was a terrible idea --- but who was he to argue with them?

             “ Don't they drive on the wrong side of the road in England? ”

             “ Mm? ” Jack turned his head from where he'd been watching Max out of the car window, meeting Dustin's gaze. It was an oddly normal topic of conversation considering the very not normal things he'd heard over recent days, and Jack found that he was weirdly glad for it. “ I wouldn't call it wrong. Everything is just the opposite way round. The driver's seat is where you're sat, we drive on the left, most of our cars are manuals ---- sorry, stick shifts. But I wouldn't worry. I've lived here long enough now to know not drive Steve's car into oncoming traffic. ” Not that there was much in the way of traffic here. There wasn't much in the way of anything. There was a sort of quiet here in Hawkins that Jack wasn't sure he'd ever be able to get used to, evil dark wizards on the loose or not.

                           You could drive for miles here without seeing a single soul. Jack was suddenly very glad he hadn't grown up somewhere like this.

               The long pause that followed Jack's answer made him think that they'd both returned to their pensive silence by Max's brother's graveside. But then he heard Dustin's voice again. “ Soooo... why did you move here? To New York? ”

               “ Dunno. Fresh start? ” Jack shrugged, hoping he hadn't come across as too abrupt. He absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair. “ I just... needed to start over. ” And he'd done so in more ways than one. What had started as just a means of getting away from London and Teague and everything he associated with them both had become a life out here in New York that actually made him happy. He turned to face Dustin properly this time. “ Do I get to ask a question now? ”

               “ Yeah, sure. ”

               “ How did you and Steve become friends? ” He'd witnessed how close they were at Christmas: as close as brothers for sure, at least in terms of how frequently they bickered and how easy it was to tell that there was a lot of affection for the other lingering underneath. But, personality wise, they couldn't have been more different: Dustin was into Star Wars and comic books and the weird dice game he kept talking about ( and had been disappointed at Christmas that Jack had never played before ), whereas Steve thankfully hadn't shown interest in any of that. It made Jack wonder what had originally brought them together.

                Dustin answered without even pausing to think about it. “ I found an interdimensional creature from the Upside Down in my trash, and when I adopted it as a pet and it accidentally ate my cat, Steve helped me out. ”

                “  — — Right. ” Of course it was that. Of course it wasn't something ordinary and straightforward like he helped me out with my science project, or he babysat me every Saturday when I was eight. Jack nursed the throbbing at his temple with his fingers, eyes drifting back towards his door window. Steve had said that he'd wanted to tell him about all of this on several occasions since they'd started dating, even with the scary disclosure forms from the government he'd been forced to sign. Jack was beginning to see why: the number of new things he'd learned on this trip about his boyfriend continued to multiply by the hour, and was prompting him to look at Steve in almost a completely new light.

                It wasn't a bad thing, not by any means. If Steve had captured his curiosity before ( even inexplicably at times: there had always been something about Steve Harrington that had held Jack's attention, like a riddle he was tantalisingly close to solving but was lacking in the final piece of the puzzle ), Jack was positively fascinated by him now. It was simply a lot to take in that his boyfriend had fought monsters before --- not just once, but several times.

                “ I know it's a lot to take in. Steve's been really worried about you. ”

                “ I've told him he doesn't need to be. ” The compassion in Dustin's voice caused something to constrict in his chest. There was more than enough going on without them needing to worry about his ability to adapt. He was fine. He'd seen plenty of dangerous situations in his life before. They just hadn't involved supernatural forces outside of his control.

                There was another long silence. “ You do know he's crazy about you, right? ”

                “ What? ” It was easier to pretend that he hadn't heard Dustin, that he was trying to keep an eye on Max like Steve would want him to while he was busy trying to figure out their next steps at Pennhurst. The last thing either of them ultimately needed right now was deep contemplation on the state of their relationship, after all. There were too many other things to think about right now, things far more pressing than the truths Jack might uncover through self-reflection on the fact that he was staying here in Hawkins despite the danger, that the only reason he hadn't returned to New York was because he hadn't wanted to leave Steve and Robin.

                 “ Well, he doesn't stop talking about you for starters. Like, even when you were just roommates, all I'd hear on the phone from him was about this cool British dude that he was sharing an apartment with. And then you started dating and he was telling me about how thrilled he was that you liked him too and how much I needed to meet you. He really cared what I thought of you when you visited last December, too. ”

                “ What did you think of me? ” A small smile pulled up the corner of his lip as he glanced back over at the passenger seat, curiosity now piqued.

                “ I thought you were awesome. ” Jack's smile softened, and then widened. “ Steve dating you is a good sign that he's finally stopped caring what other people think of him. ” 

                “ I thought you just said I was awesome, Dustin. ”

                “ I only mean that like --- you don't care what people think of you, right? ” Jack slowly, suspiciously shook his head, brow still arched. “ Well, Steve has had that problem where he does care. Back in high school especially. I told him he'd be happier if he stopped caring and just dated someone he enjoyed being around. He took my advice, because he's a lot happier with you. ”

               He's a lot happier with you. It was hard sometimes to imagine what Steve had been like before he'd moved to New York --- he was an ex-jock who'd played on all the school sports teams, making him somebody that Jack probably wouldn't have even talked to had he by some weird twist of fate gone to school here. He'd come from rich parents, who Jack had met and thought little of at Christmas, and according to Robin his last serious relationship had fucked him up more than he would ever outwardly let on. But to find out from somebody who knew Steve better than he did that he'd somehow been sadder before the move, before meeting him, filled him with emotions that he couldn't quite explain. That he didn't want to explain, because the last thing he needed during this trip was to be too distracted by his relationship with Steve that he didn't pay enough attention to the literal monsters that were trying to invade this town.

               “ Steve doesn't stop talking about you either. ” Jack caught the way Dustin's eyes lit up as he spoke. “ In the runup to the Christmas trip, I really wanted to make a good impression. Didn't want you to think I was... I don't know, stealing him from you or something. ”

               “ Son of a bitch. I knew he'd said something to you to make you nervous. ”

               “ Hold on, nervous is a strong word. I wasn't nervous. ”

               “ You did seem kinda nervous when you first walked through our door, Jack. ” Rolling his eyes, Jack bit back his next retort, momentarily regretting ever giving the kid the ego boost. “ But I know you're not stealing him from me. Although it does suck sometimes to be the one left behind. ”

               Jack caught that sentence, too, his brief annoyance quickly forgotten. If the two of them were as close as brothers, it must have been difficult for Dustin to see his big brother leave him behind --- and then to see him so happy, thriving even, away from him. His own remark about stealing Steve away clearly hit closer to the mark than Jack had initially thought. Shifting in the driver's seat, Jack's gaze wandered around the car's interior, thinking hard on his next words. “ Well, now Steve and I share a room, there's an empty room in our place in New York with your name on it. ” He turned to meet Dustin's gaze with a small smile. “ After this is all over, I'll buy a name tag and stick it to the door if you want. ”

              “ Yeah? ”

              “ Yeah. I'll drive here and pick you up if you need me to. I know Steve would too. ”

              “ And you won't drive on the wrong side of the road? ”

              “ I won't drive on the wrong side of the road. ” They both laughed, and if Jack didn't know any better, it felt like a moment had passed between them. They hadn't needed the breakthrough, but it still seemed like a palpable shift.

                             Silence, comfortable this time, fell between them, lulling Jack into the false sense of security that the conversation was over.

              “ Do you love him? ”

              Dustin might not have intended it, but the words struck at an exposed nerve, and Jack visibly hesitated. His gaze skittered towards the car window, and he felt a faint flush creep up his neck.

              “ I know for a fact that Steve's in love with you. I haven't seen him act this way around anyone before. ”

              He said it so casually. Jack's gaze continued to focus on anything but his companion in the passenger seat, before his dark eyes settled on Max up on the hill. “ Don't you think she's been up there a while now? ”

             “ What? ”

             “ Max. ” Jack had opened the car door before Dustin had time to protest. “ We're meant to be keeping an eye on her, right? It doesn't take this long to read out a letter. ”

             “ Seriously, dude?! I just asked you a really important question and now you’re concerned? ” 

             Jack ignored him. It was as good an excuse as any. He could feel Max's letter for Steve in the pocket of his jacket. He means so much to her that she'd written him a letter in the event of her death. Instead of talking about Jack's love life, they should have been focusing on Max from the start.

             “ Just give her some time, man! "

             With the roll of his eyes, Jack turned to Lucas, who was still sat on the car bonnet. “ She's had time. You all have. ” And without further hesitation or pause, Jack headed up the hill to check up on her. He could have been wrong, she might have been fine and it might have just been a bloody long letter, but he'd deal with her terse complaints when they happened --- for now, it was an excuse to walk away from the feelings uncovered in the driver's seat of Steve Harrington's car.

                                                              —

             “ Dustin?! Dustin! Jack? Do you copy? Did it work? Is Max OK? ”

             Robin's voice crackled through the radio. At some point in all of the chaos and panic of the last few ten minutes, Dustin had handed it to him.

             “ Yeah. She's OK. ” Jack was pacing by one of the nearby graves, having opted to give Lucas and Max some space. In all honestly, he'd needed the space too. He ran a hand through his hair. “ Can't believe that actually worked. You're a genius. ”

             Music. She needs to listen to her favourite song. In the midst of the relief that they'd finally made a breakthrough, that they'd finally found out what could stop Vecna from claiming Max and therefore any other victims, Jack was struck by what an oddly poetic remedy it was.

             “ I'll remember you said that next time you claim you’re better than me at murderer mystery games, Jack. We're on our way back to Steve's now. ” 

             “ I am better than you. But oh, uh, we're not at Steve's. Long story. We'll meet you both back there. ”

            Jack lowered the radio's antenna, surveying the hill. Time to round up the children, he supposed. It struck him how pale Max looked, despite her insistence to them all ( save Lucas, he suspected ) that she was OK. How could she be OK after something like that? The sight of her trapped in some sort of trance, eyes rolled into the back of her skull, was not an image likely to leave his subconscious any time soon. And that was before she’d been pulled into the air. He could understand the terror in Sarah’s eyes now as she’d described her own innocent experience with one of Vecna’s victims.

            Feeling a sudden pressure and wetness in his nose, Jack raised his sleeve to wipe it away. The last thing he needed was to develop a cold in addition these constant headaches.

            When he pulled his hand away, he saw a blood stain on the jumper sleeve.

                          Headaches. Nosebleeds. Constant nightmares.

            He'd been woken up with a bad dream the first morning after they'd arrived back in Hawkins. Thanks to the supernatural horror show he was now a part of, Jack hadn't slept much since.

            That was when he heard it. Two chimes of a grandfather clock.

                                It was here. Right here. It was so real.

            Jack whirled around, ears following the tick tick tick of the clock hands. His feet soon followed, taking him to a grave a short distance away. In place of the headstone was the grandfather clock in question, protruding out of the ground at an odd, unnatural angle. Jack rounded on it, his dark eyes scanning the clock face, the unremarkable decoration, the pendulum... looking for anything that might explain why Vecna was so fucking obsessed with these things.

                                           Why Max, and now him?

            Assuming that this was Vecna. Why him? He didn't even live here in Hawkins. With any serial killer, monstrous or not, there was normally a link between their victims, and between themselves and their victims. What link did he have? He wasn't from here. What, then, did Vecna want with all of them?

                                  “ Jack. ”

            He couldn't decipher where the voice was coming from, but he knew instinctively who it belonged to. Jack kept his focus on the clock, reaching out with his fingers ---- but before he could touch it, a swarm of spiders emerged from behind the swinging pendulum, spreading across the clock face. Jack jerked his hand back.

                 “ If you’re not easily afraid, Jack, then why are you always running? ”

             The dirt beneath his feet suddenly began to give and, as Jack stepped back, it curled upwards, unfurling like a rug being rolled up. He continued to jump backwards as yet more spiders emerged from the dark chasm it left behind.

              Jack glanced up from the spiders to find the clock gone, replaced once more by a headstone --- but on it read a name that made his blood run ice cold.

                                             Maria Isobel Sparrow                              27th February 1942  -  15th April 1970

              The earth continued to roil underneath him, to the point where he felt about to trip, and then ------

                          “ Jack? ”

               He jerked out of the vision at once, turning around to find Dustin with his hand on his arm. “ We'd better get back to Steve's before he realises we were gone. ”

                “ Too late for that. ” Jack waved the handheld radio at Dustin before he reached down to tug his jacket down over his bloodied jumper sleeve, trying to ignore the way his hands were trembling. He reached up to wipe away any dried blood that might have remained on his face, ushering Dustin towards Steve's car. “ But yeah, let’s go ”

[trickstercaptain]

@thecodekeeper sent a meme:   ❝ somebody’s been drinking. ❞ - stranger things au

           Jack leaned back lazily against the front door as it closed shut behind him. Funny how he’d yet to even take two steps indoors and Teague had already clocked the smell of alcohol from all the way in the kitchen --------- although maybe he’d simply figured it out from the embarrassing amount of time it had taken him to turn the key in the lock and let himself in. Anyway, the man before him was the last person on Earth who had any right to be a raging hypocrite about it, and Jack was in no mood to be contrite. “ As if there’s anything else to do in this godforsaken town you insist we stay in, ” he mumbled, shrugging off his boots and making a beeline for the stairs up to his room. He came to a stop a couple of steps up, leaning over the railing ---- and having to grab it at the last minute to stop himself from losing his balance completely and toppling over it. “ At least Steve’s house has a swimming pool. ”

[trickstercaptain]

           They were sat together on the sand, the ocean stretching out before them, shimmering in the low Autumn sunshine  --- a sight that wasn’t unusual for him during a shift overseeing noisy beachgoers, but never failed to draw his eye --- and yet Jack couldn’t tear his gaze away from his roommate. If he’d needed a clearer indication that his world had shifted almost entirely on its axis over the past few days, this was surely it. He’d thought they were just friends. He’d thought he’d been happy just being Steve’s friend until he’d heard those swelling chords of Somebody to Love fill the arena, felt the touch of Steve’s hand and the softness of his lips, and realised that he’d been lying to himself this entire time.

           He’d thought of little else since, though he’d tried not to make it too obvious to either of his roommates just how floored he’d been by a mere kiss between friends at a concert. This was all far too new and daunting and, much more importantly, fragile for that. When was the last time someone had taken him out on a proper date somewhere, after all? Jack couldn’t remember. And when was the last time he’d ever wanted someone this way ---- not as a casual, loneliness-curbing hook up, but as something much more than that? The answer to that one scared him.

            In spite of that lingering anxiety, however, simply hanging out together with their homemade picnic ( put together with leftovers from the fridge that Steve had determined to still be edible ) was just as effortless and fun as it always had been. Even if Jack was paying closer attention to those eyes ( or he would, if Steve wasn’t wearing his Ray Bans ), and that mouth and the gravity-defying hair and the arms and the enticing flash of chest hair beneath his t-shirt than he had been before. He leaned in a little closer, his eyes deliberately sliding from Steve’s face to the shoreline, before they widened slightly. “ Is that a dolphin? ” As soon as Steve’s head had turned, Jack plucked the sunglasses right off his face, frantically clamboring up from the sand and away from him before his act of theft managed to register. As he continued to back away with an impish grin, Jack put them on. “ Before ---- ” He held his hand out as if to forestall Steve from immediately running after him, already trying not to laugh. “ ------ you chase me down for these, consider how good I undoubtedly look in them first. ”

@harringtontm

[trickstercaptain]

tight jeans. rings, bangles and pendants. layers. flashes of colour. the occasional soft jumper. knock-off doc martens. neck scarf or head scarf? same difference. growing his hair out after leaving school. hats, belts and other accessories. unafraid to wear pink. stuck in the ‘60s and ‘70s. swimmer’s physique. short ponytail.

YOUNG JACK + WARDROBE  /  MODERN VERSE