#Kates Tiny Living

[starthelostboys]

i think that david’s actually really good with kids, but it’s completely by accident because he has no idea how to interact with them so he just treats them like he would anyone else

[adammilligan]

also i think for a long time michael DOES kind of go along with whatever makes adam happy because it's not exactly like he's used to doing things that make HIM happy. and he reasons it like well watching adam be happy makes me happy! but i think in postcanon once chuck is gone and everything's been addressed and they have all of eternity together etc that's when michael starts picking up actual things that he likes as his own person. and yes he would kind of have to draw from adam's view on human things a little bit when it comes to those because it's not like he's human or has some inherent appreciation for humanity but he can still come to enjoy things in his own way by doing so! maybe he likes watching sports on tv because he appreciates the structure of them. maybe he learns to like night better than day instead of just seeing them both as insignificant. maybe he picks up a little fondness for horror novels because he likes reading the words others use to describe the things that they fear. and maybe he learns to kiss adam on the cheek not only because it makes adam smile but because it makes him smile as well.

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader - 18+ MDNI brief suggestive content, Christmas vibes (these characters do not celebrate Christmas religiously) 🎄 There'll be much mistltoeing / It's the most wonderful time of the year - for @glitterypirateduck's cod holiday challenge

"She's lovely." Laswell comments, standing at his shoulder in the living room.

"She is." He answers, but doesn't bother to look at her, too transfixed on you, watching the way you smile and laugh, champagne flute in one hand, baby in the other. Blood rushes through his body as he stares at you, marveling at how bloody good you look with the baby on your hip, and even though he knows it's an archaic mentality, he can't help but dream about giving you another. Kate gives him a smirk that he just barely catches from the corner of his eye, and he cuts her an exasperated look. "Excuse me."

"By all means."

He makes his way to your side where you're chatting with Gaz's date, Lily, wine colored velvet dress draped across your body, snug and silky across your skin. Your hair is done, styled differently, arranged on top of your head instead of your usual or pulled into something looser, shiny gold cuff curled around the top of your ear. You’re stunning, and his mind turns over, trying to determine if it’s okay or appropriate to tell you for the third time tonight that he’s obsessed with you, that he wants to get you home and worship you, wants to rip your dress off and ruin it. He wonders if you’ll let him take you home early, if you’ll be quiet for him when he bends you over the bed, if you’ll come on his cock all breathy and sweet with his name on your lips.

Emmaline sits embraced in nook of your elbow, white and green dress complemented by tiny, shiny, black shoes, babbling away at anyone who will look at her. She lights up when he steps closer, trying to tip out of your grasp towards his, discontent rising in her crumpled little brow when she can't break free.

"Hi." You beam, his hand finding the small of your back, Emmaline wriggling around to face him, leaning back with a big smile, knocking her head into his side. You roll your eyes at Lily. "I've become chopped liver to my own baby."

"Alright, sweet pea. C'mere then." He settles her on top of his forearm, chubby fist knotting into the collar of his shirt. "Let's give mama a break, eh?" You smile, relieved, reaching up for a kiss, tip toes stretching until he leans to meet you, and when you pull away, you give Emmaline one on her cheek, bright baby giggles echoing through the room. "We're going to see what the team is up to." He bounces her, and your thumb strokes a soft circle into his waist.

"Okay."

"There she is!" Gaz calls, and Emmaline squirms in Simon's grasp, pressing her face into his neck, head tilted just slightly so she can still see the guys, cheeks dimpled. She watches Kyle cautiously, incredibly shy, and Simon whispers to comfort her.

"What's wrong, baby girl? You're alright. It's just Gaz." She mouths at his shirt, and he smooths a hand over the back of her head softly. "She's not usually so reserved, loves attention."

"Ye're scaring her." Johnny admonishes as huffs, breath rolling in a fog through the chilled air, but when Simon turns, Emmaline whips around, peering over his shoulder to stare at Gaz, expression delighted.

"I don't think she's scared, Soap. Looks smitten to me." Johnny clucks his tongue, half outraged, and Gaz just laughs, stroking her cheek as she coos soft sweet nonsense towards him, making Johnny scowl.

“’m supposed tae be her favorite.” He grumbles, and Price barks out a laugh, clapping him on his back.

“Gotta get your own for that, son.” He shakes his head, reaching a finger out to her fist, letting her grab onto him. She immediately starts to drag it towards his mouth, and Price lets her, chuckling softly under his breath. “Needs something for her teeth.”

"I think we've got something in her bag." Simon rubs her back, watching how her eyes light up when she spots Price's beard, tiny fingers mindlessly drifting towards his chin. "Mama's been giving you frozen pacifiers, huh?"

"Ye should try scotch, my maw used tae give me some, when ah was a bairn." Johnny tickles his fingers across her side and she shrieks into a giggle fit, nearly choking on laughter that has him glowing with pride. "Who's yer favorite uncle, Emmaline? Is it Uncle Soap?" Johnny whispers in his best baby voice, and Simon snorts.

"She can't have scotch, MacTavish. She's a baby, and-"

"Alright out here?" You're standing in the door, half in, half out, teetering precariously on the top step, and for the hundredth time tonight you take Simon's breath away, light from the kitchen shimmering behind you like a halo, framing you in a soft, warm yellow glow, his stomach clenching.

"We're alright." He promises, already making his way towards the doorway, taking the stairs until you're within arms reach, Emmaline clapping her hands together when she spots you. "You okay?" He keeps his voice low, yet still tender, trying not to give the guys too much ammo, and you smile, spectacular and sweet, enough to make him melt on the spot.

"Yeah, just wanted to check on you two." You brush a finger across Emma's cheek, mouth opening to say something else when Johnny's voice rings across the patio, cheeky and smug.

"LT, ye're standın' under mistletoe." He hadn't noticed the cluster of greenery tacked to the bricked arch just outside the door, but it's hard to miss now, and when you glance above your head and laugh, he shrugs his shoulders. "Well..."

"Well?" You raise an eyebrow. A challenge. An invitation. Enough of both for him, encouragement not needed in the first place, his lips finding yours easily, pulling you into the bulk of his body, wrapping an arm around your waist while still holding Emma against his chest in the other. She bridges the gap between you, both of his girls safe and sheltered in his arms, and he blocks out the sound of Gaz and Johnny's shouting and whooping, focusing on the taste of your tongue, smell of your skin, plush lips against his. It's everything, you're everything, you and Emmaline- his family, his to love, to care for, to protect, emotion welling up in his chest that has him pulling away and pressing his nose against the top of your head, mouth finding your temple, your cheek, his eyes closed and breaths measured.

"Merry Christmas." He whispers, still holding you tight, and you dip forward to press a kiss to Emmaline's scalp, your hand reaching for his jaw, thumb reverently stroking across the scar on his cheek.

"Merry Christmas Simon."

[emo-batboy]

Battinson on SNL

Idk how popular Saturday Night Live is outside of the US so there will be some links for context. That said, as a New Jersey native, I think Battinson would totally watch the show. And since he's a celebrity...👀

SO

To promote WE’s newest charity fund, Alfred signs Bruce up to be a guest host on SNL (à la this post) The announcement is made, and everyone’s like “oh this is going to be a disaster. That man can’t even hold eye contact or speak a full sentence without crying.”

But oh, that’s why it’s so funny.

Now, hear me out. Bruce’s strengths are displayed best when he’s himself. That’s why he’s so popular in Gotham. That’s why the internet calls him Relatable TM and a Disaster (Affectionate) and “Poor Little Meow Meow.” It’s his ✨ essence ✨

But he tends to get overwhelmed or self-conscious onstage, right? Because he can’t be Himself himself if he has time to overthink something. So after a few meetings with Bruce, the writers of SNL figure out the perfect way to keep Bruce from getting anxious.

They decide to load this episode with as many skits where Bruce plays different caricature-like versions of himself as possible. The objective? Make him break character and laugh so he doesn’t overthink. And if he breaks character, he’ll still technically be in character because he’s playing himself, you know? Genius.

So that’s how they go about structuring the show. During the few days they have to write, they decide to take everything about Bruce’s public image and either ramp it up to 11 or turn it on its head.

He speaks quietly? Turn it into a running gag. He dresses in all black? Make him emo. He tips well? Add that in too. He’s “depressed” and “sad?” Literally, all he does on screen is laugh and break character. What’s not to love?

Of course, Bruce also gets to decide what skits are in each episode as well. (Refer to this if you have no idea how SNL works.) He loves the idea, though, and he has a surprisingly dark sense of humor which bleeds into some of the sketches. They add in a few skits without him, and they’ve got their lineup.

It’s the wildest episode of the season. Here are the highlights:

OPENING MONOLOGUE

It’s the big night, everyone’s excited to see Bruce Wayne hosting a live sketch comedy show with no idea how it will turn out.

To begin his monologue, Bruce walks on, opens his mouth to start talking, and immediately two cast members appear as stagehands to set up six microphones in front of him. He is already struggling to keep himself together.

Bruce: “You may be wondering why I’m host- Cast Member: *adds one more tiny microphone to his chest* Bruce: “You may be wondering why I’m hosting tonight.”

It’s working. The audience loves it.

Halfway through, Kate McKinnon comes out in a dark cloak with a chalice. “Your sustenance, my lord.” *sees camera* “Oh. Sorry. Carry on.” And she shambles off. Bruce has to take a second before continuing.

Bruce knows when (most of) the jokes come. It’s literally on the cue cards, but he still falls into a fit of giggles.

There are a few more gags, including Lex Luthor peeking out from behind the band set-up, all teasing the show to come.

Overall, an amazing way to set the tone for the episode. Expectations have been set. Then the skits begin!

(Oh but before I forget: During every single live skit with Bruce, the writers have scheduled for one of the cast members to run in dressed as a stagehand and put an extra mic on him. They do not tell him when it will happen.)

SKIT #1

Between the monologue and the first skit, he has to do a really fast quick change, but to everyone’s surprise, Bruce is a natural. (Huh, wonder why.)

The skit is called Gotham PTA Meeting. We open in a meeting room full of stereotypical PTA moms setting down baked goods and gossiping. And apparently, there is a new PTA member attending today 👀

Right as the meeting starts, he enters. Bruce walks in wearing the most emo get-up imaginable. He’s got a Nirvana shirt, a comical amount of eyeliner, black skinny jeans, chain accessories, metal rings, AND a clip-in extension to give him fringe.

Someone immediately runs in and puts another mic on him.

PTA Mom: “Oh, Bruce! You made it! Did you bring a snack?” Bruce: “I brought lemon bars.” PTA Mom: “Why are they black?” Bruce: “They match my soul…they’re also vegan.”

He talks like a moody teenager. HE CONSTANTLY has to brush the fringe off to the side to read the cue cards. And because there’s so much eyeliner and he’s sweating a bit from the lights, it starts running everywhere.

PTA Mom: “Bruce, you’re a little quiet. What are your thoughts on increasing the school lunch budget?” Bruce: *eyeliner dripping down his chin* “I think it’s a great idea.”

SKIT #2

For a pre-filmed skit, they bring back the Chad character with Pete Davidson.

It’s 2 am, and Chad is working at a 24hr drug store in Gotham. He’s reading Twilight (the book is upside down) when the lights begin to flicker.

He turns around and tries the light switch, turns back around, and JUMPSCARE it’s Bruce dressed as Edward from Twilight.

Yes, he IS sparkly.

Bruce is awkwardly holding a bunch of items, all concerning. He plops down a few knives, several raw meats, Sudafed. Chad: “Oh hey.” Bruce: O_O “I’d like to check out please.” Chad: “Lit.”

Chad’s “No Fucks Given” energy and Bruce’s “Please Do Not Perceive Me” energy clash like titans. The whole skit centers around it.

Bruce: *sweating bullets* “Oh. You’re reading Twilight?” Chad: “Just the title.” Bruce: *throws the book through the window at lightning speed* “It’s not very good. You should probably read something else.” Chad: *shrugs* “Okay.”

Chad: “ID?” Bruce: “ID? For what?” Chad: “Sudafed.” Bruce: “Oh. I don’t really need that, actually.” Chad: “Already scanned it.” Bruce: “Haha. Of course.” *awkwardly produces a scroll from his pocket that says Bruce Wayne DOB: 1901* Chad: “Okay.”

Bruce checks out, Chad picks up a porno mag or something, and we see Bruce turn into a bat and fly off through the window behind him.

SKIT #3

The next skit they have is Celebrity Family Feud: Billionaires Edition. Again, Bruce plays himself, but he’s more of a background character. Instead, the skit makes fun of billionaires as a whole.

Bruce’s team consists of Kylie Jenner, Lex Luthor, and Oliver Queen. So just imagine three Lucille Bluths standing beside one another. 

Bruce’s bit? He just keeps handing cash to Steve Harvey every time he breathes in his direction.

Host: "We got the richest man in the world: Bruce Wayne!" Bruce: *hands him a roll of cash* Host: "Oh, what’s this for?" Bruce: "It’s your tip. I always tip." Host: "Oh, Mr. Wayne, you don’t usually tip the show host. I’m also a millionaire myself." Lex Luthor: *snatches it* "Well, if you’re not going to use it, I will…for charity, of course." Host: "Uh huh, whatever helps you sleep at night."

Just a ton of fun quips, the usual.

At some point, Harvey says, “That’s batty.” Bruce: *ducks* “Where?!” Host: “Oh, I don’t mean Batman. He’s not here.” Bruce: “You don’t know that.”

This time, the mic bit is a bit different.

Host: “We asked 100 billionaires: How much does a loaf of bread cost? Top three answers are on the board.” Bruce: *hits buzzer* Host: Bruce, your answer is? Cast Member: *runs in with a megaphone and holds it in front of Bruce* Bruce: “TEN DOLLARS?”

Board dings! That was the #1 answer

Brucie Wayne for the win

SKIT #4

Next is a skit that dares to ask Gotham, “Why would anyone live here?”

The skit begins with someone opening a press conference for Wayne Enterprises. “And now presenting: Bruce Wayne!” Bruce walks in…

But it’s not him. Instead, it’s one of the cast members dressed in a black suit with horribly gelled brown hair.

Everyone in the audience is wondering where the actual Bruce is before another cast member runs onstage crying, “Help! Help! I’ve just been robbed! Somebody call Batman!”

A mini version of the bat-signal lights up…

We hear some generic hero music play…

And there he is: Bruce Wayne dressed in a horribly cheap Batman costume

(They got the cowl ALL wrong btw)

Bruce puts his hands on his hips in a weird superhero pose. Bruce: “I’m Batm-” Cast Member: *runs out to attach another mic to his costume* Bruce: “….I’m Batman!”

Cue all of the gags and digs against Batman. The fake Bruce faints then starts crying under a table. Someone calls Batman a furry. Bruce is barely keeping it together the whole time. Lord help him, but he asked for it. He approved the skit.

Bruce: “Looks like a job for my bat taser!” Cast Member: “Isn’t that just a taser with a bat on it?” Bruce: *whispers* “You shut your mouth.”

He saves the day, the police take the thief into custody, then Batman myStErioUsly disappears. Bruce: “Look over there!” *runs off* Cast Member: “Oh my gooood, how did he do that?”

CLOSING SEGMENT

Finally, they have the Weekend Update where Bruce comes on as himself for the final time.

Since they got his permission, the writers switch out some of Bruce’s jokes last minute. (Think Bill Hader’s Stefon which notoriously caused him to break character because the writers would mess with his cue cards.)

News Anchor: “Here to promote his newest humanitarian project: Bruce Wayne!” “Mr. Wayne, what a pleasure to see you today.” Bruce: “Thank you. This is probably the longest I’ve been out of the house.” News Anchor: “Since the Riddler catastrophe?” Bruce: “Since ever.”

News Anchor: “So Mr. Wayne! Before you make your announcement, any life updates?” Bruce: “Yes, actually. Just a few days ago, I adopted five- *starts losing it* five more children.” News Anchor: “Wow, really? So you have eight kids now.” Bruce: “Uh huh. *tears streaming down his face* One more orphan and I get the tenth one free.”

News Anchor: “So where can people find you online?” Bruce: “Well, I don’t have social media because I’m afraid of people, but sometimes I’m on Twitter.” News Anchor: “What about a phone call?” Bruce: “Oh no, phone calls- *giggle* phone calls give me fainting spells.”

It’s a great way of finishing the show, with the most genuine version of Bruce. Then, he gets to what’s really important!

News Anchor: “So if they can’t reach you on social media or on the phone, what else can our viewers do, Mr. Wayne?” Bruce: “They can donate to the Wayne Foundation’s newest charity called The Arts Initiative. It funds programs for the arts in underdeveloped school districts nationwide. I’ve already donated $30 million, and I’ve pledged to match every dollar donated within the next week.”

And that’s what he’s here for :) They share a link for where and how to donate. The anchors praise him for his charity, which he deflects because he can definitely afford this, and the 90-minute broadcast is over.

The camera pans away with the whole cast waving goodbye, and Bruce is seen keeling over with laughter.

Along with some of the other skits, these four specifically go viral. WE raises a fuck ton of money, and everyone loves Bruce.

THE END

LOVE YOU ALL!! Let me know what you think :D

[flanaganfilm]

Good day Mr Flanagan. please what does "the rest is confetti" mean to you and in the context it was used in hill house??

Okay, here we go. Buckle up for a long read.

To answer this, I've got to explain a little bit about what was happening and where I was when I sat down to write episode 10 of The Haunting of Hill House.

Hill House was not a fun shoot. The picture above is from very early in production, when I was still chubby and happy.

It was my first foray into television. I was absolutely terrified that I'd mess it up. So I'd opted to direct all of the episodes myself, figuring that - if nothing else - I'd have no one else to blame if it went south.

It was the most grueling professional experience of my career. The shoot was by no means a smooth one, every day was an uphill battle from a budgetary perspective, and between the three giant production entities involved with the production, I spent a lot of time fighting over the creative and logistical elements of the series.

I began losing weight. I was smoking two packs of cigarettes a day.

By the end of the shoot, I had dropped almost 40 lbs.

I was very depressed. Every day was a battle, and for the first time in my career, I wasn't excited to go to work in the morning. We were fighting for basic resources, fighting for the show we wanted, and even fighting amongst ourselves by the end. It was grueling.

We hadn't written all of the scripts when we started production. I believe we had finished through episode 7, but the rest of the scripts had to be finished while we were already shooting.

We'd mapped everything out in the writers room, and I had great support on the other episodes, but I was writing the finale solo. I'd thought I'd be able to juggle it with everything else. I quickly fell behind.

I finally got to the script about halfway through production. I'd work on it between takes at the monitor, and then get home to our tiny rental house in Atlanta, where Kate was waiting with our baby son. (One of the rare bright spots of this shoot came when Kate found out she was pregnant about halfway through production. We even named our daughter Theodora, in honor of her origins.)

I'd typically fall down from exhaustion when I got home, but I had to push through it and work on the script. My weekends were spent shotlisting and prepping for upcoming episodes. We didn't have enough time to stay ahead of prep, so every available day was used for that... I went three months without a single day off at one point.

I'd sit up late staring at the script. I was in a dark, dark place. Overwhelmed, exhausted, and feeling like I lived in an eternal present. Each day bled into the next and it didn't feel like there was an end in sight. That feeling of unreality was heightened because we kept returning to the same sets, same locations, and even the same scenes throughout the 100 shooting-day production. Stepping back into the exact room we had shot in days or weeks or even months ago made the whole thing feel absolutely surreal. Making movies is always an non-linear experience, but this one felt particularly so... it was like the days of our lives were happening to us all out of order.

I remember feeling something like despair creeping into my daily experience on the show. And I remember dwelling on that when I got into the scene work of episode 10.

As I worked through the draft, I recall that despair coloring a lot of what was on the page. My filter was breaking down. There's a monologue at the beginning of the episode where Steven's wife Leigh (played by my dear friend Samantha Sloyan) spews out a torrent of eviscerating insults about Steve's value as a writer. That is just me vomiting onto myself. She was voicing all of my deepest insecurities about myself at the time, and of what I was doing with this series.

She says "Is anything real before you write it, Steve? The things you write about, they're real. Those people are real, their feelings are real, their pain is real - but not to you, is it. Not until you chew it up, digest it, and shit it out onto a piece of paper and even then, it's a pale imitation at best."

This was the mindset I was in for a lot of the shoot. The writing became a reflection of a lot of that turmoil, and I knew who I was referring to in that monologue - I was talking about my family. I was talking about how much of their lives I'd used as building material for this show. I was talking about the fact that I'd lost two loved ones to suicide, and seen what it had done to my mother in particular. And I knew I was using - possibly even exploiting - those people for this series.

There's a lot of despair in this episode. The Red Room, as we conceived it, was a place that would feed upon those emotions. Grief, sadness, loss... those were the real ghosts of our series, and where our characters find themselves at the start of the finale. They're being slowly digested - eaten alive - by those feelings.

So finally, it came time to write Nell's final scene with her siblings. I knew from the outline we'd constructed in the writers room what this was supposed to accomplish - she was supposed to be their salvation. She was supposed to take all of these feelings that we'd been wrestling with and finally provide catharsis... finally say something that would free everyone.

I remember sitting with a blinking cursor for a long time. The Crain siblings had just turned and seen Nellie standing by the door, and suddenly were able to hear her speak. But what should she say? What would I say? What would I want someone to say to me?

What she ultimately says lays bare a lot of what I was thinking about when it comes to grief. It exists outside of linear time, much as I felt I existed at the time. That sense of eternal present, that sense of a nonlinear eternity of moments and memories - it all came out in her speech to her brothers and sisters.

I remember feeling, looking at my insane present and looking back at my past, how strangely overwhelmed I was by memories. That I wasn't experiencing time in a straight line, and hadn't been for a while - for the better part of a year, I'd felt more like I was standing in a whirlwind of moments. "Our moments fall around us like..." Nell said, and I recall sitting back and trying to find the words.

"Rain," for certain, but there was something too uniform about that. The moments of life as I experienced them weren't that orderly, they weren't that small. They didn't fall the same way. Some sailed by, fast and unremarkable, while others lingered in front of me, twisting and stretching. So it was a good word, but not the right word. I left it on the page though.

"Snow" was my next attempt. Better, in that I imagined the snow blowing in the wind, swirling and dancing and feeling more organic. More chaotic. More like life. But for some reason, the word that stuck with me, the word I felt Nell Crain would connect with was...

"Confetti."

And that was because I was thinking not of Victoria Pedretti at this point, but of Violet McGraw.

Violet played Young Nell, and I wondered what she might have said if she experienced time this way. As an adult, Nell was despairing. Nell was overwhelmed. But as a child... there was an innocence to the word. There was a joy to the word.

I imagined moments falling around her, this little girl with the big smile and the wide eyes. Her moments would be colorful. They would be of different shapes and sizes, some falling fast and some falling slow, flipping and turning and dancing in the air, independent of the others. Sparkling, whirling, doing lazy summersaults as they sauntered down to Earth.

I thought of myself, and of the members of my family. I thought of those we'd lost. I realized what I hoped for them, and for us all, in the end... was to look upon that mosaic of experience, that avalanche of days and minutes and moments... and to smile with some of the joy we had as children.

And this, I thought, was something that gave me hope. This gave me a glimpse of some kind of salvation for them. This was also how I hoped my life might seem if I was a ghost - a cascade of color and light and shape and movement, something I could dance in.

So Nell smiled and said... "or confetti."

It stuck with me. The rest of her monologue gets heavy again, and gets to the real point of the show - the point of the whole series, if I'm honest - and that's forgiveness.

I figured the only thing that would let the Crain children out of the Red Room was to be forgiven. I thought of the losses in my own family, and I thought of what I wished for my mother and for my aunts and uncles and cousins and I tried to pour that into her final words.

"I loved you completely, and you loved me the same," she said, "that's all." And this was the point I wanted the most to make. That at the end of our life, if we can say this about each other, the rest doesn't matter. The rest is that rainstorm, or that blizzard, that fell around this one central truth, and maybe built itself in piles around it, to the point we lost sight of it along the way.

And I thought again of that little girl, and almost as an afterthought, wrote "The rest is confetti."

I liked the way it sounded, but I was insecure about the line. I almost took it out, in fact. I remember asking Kate to read the scene and talking about that last line with her. "Is it too cute?" I wondered. She was on the fence. "Depends on how it's acted," she said, and I figured she was right. We could always take it out if it didn't work. The scene could end with "I loved you completely, and you loved me the same. That's all."

Why not shoot it and see what happened.

I turned in the script, we published it quickly so that we could start breaking it down and prepping it. And the next morning I was back on set. I'd deal with episode 10 when it came down the pipe again, sometime in the coming months. We had a lot of shooting to get through before I had to worry about it.

I recall Netflix asking me to cut a lot of that monologue, and I remember them also having questions about the "confetti" line. I pointed out that it didn't cost us any extra to shoot it all, it was only words, and fought to keep the script intact.

Ultimately, they insisted I make a series of cuts on the page. I begrudgingly agreed, but left Nell's speech alone. I made superficial cuts around it, throughout the draft, and even considered changing the font size to fool them into thinking it had gotten shorter (I ultimately was told I wouldn't fool anyone and not to risk starting a war). But Nellie's final goodbye stayed intact.

It must be said - Victoria Pedretti SLAUGHTERED this scene.

By the time we got around to filming it, things had never been worse for the production. There was almost nothing left for a lot of us. Tensions were sky-high, resources had been exhausted completely, and we were all ready to give up.

Filming in the mold-ridden Red Room was depressing, morose, and led to a lot of arguments and unpleasantness. The room itself just felt gross, always, and we were in there for days at a time. The last thing we had to shoot in there was Nellie's goodbye.

Victoria came to set having to push through pages of monologue, and she did so with captivating bravado. I recall being teary-eyed at the monitor watching her work. And when we finally made it to the last line, I watched her deliver it with... a smile. A sincere, innocent, longing, joyful smile. A smile informed by the sadness, grief, and loss of her own situation, of her own life... but a smile that finds forgiveness and grace after all. Pedretti knew how to say the line, and how that word would work.

And as she said it, I knew it would stay in the show.

Over the years, that sentence has become something of a tagline for The Haunting of Hill House. I'm always a bit mystified and touched when I see people approach me with the line on T-shirts, or even tattooed on their bodies.

I started signing it with autographs back in 2020 after enough fans asked me to. Now it's my go-to when I sign anything related to Hill House.

The line, for me, represents a lot of things.

It's about the insane, chaotic, non-linear experience of making that show. It's about trying to find and hold onto joy, even in the grips of despair.

It's about the way the moments of our lives aren't linear, not really, and how we may be unable to understand them as we exist in their flurry. It's about finding hope, innocence and forgiveness in the final reckoning.

And it's about how, outside of our love for each other, the rest is just... well, it's fleeting. It's colorful. It's overwhelming. It's blinding. It's dancing. And, if we look at it right, it's beautiful. But it's also light. It's tinsel. It flits and dances and falls and fades, it's as light as air.

The rest is the stuff that falls around us, and flits away into nothing.

It's the love that stays.

[incorrectbatfam]

It's movie night but they can't use the home cinema, what do they do?

[week 1]

Bruce: Thanks for letting us use your place for movie night while we fix that leak at home.

Dick: No problem. Besides, I have plenty of snacks and the director's cut of Dumbo.

Everyone: *gathers around*

Dick: *puts on the movie*

~ 10 minutes in ~

*beep* *beep* *beep* *beep*

Tim: My crime alert's going off.

Harper: Mine too.

Duke: Must be big.

Bruce: Suit up and rendezvous in three.

Dick: *sighs and pauses the movie*

Dick: Can't get one night in this damn city.

———————

[week 2]

Tim: Steph, why are we at a karaoke lounge?

Steph: I know the owner's cousin's hairdresser's dog walker's sister's girlfriend and I convinced them to let us use the party room. Don't worry, it's just like a TV screen.

Steph: *puts on Pitch Perfect*

Steph: Ooh, I love this part.

Steph: *grabs a mic and starts singing*

Everyone:

Damian: *stuffs napkins in his ears*

———————

[week 3]

Jason: Since we decided on Pride and Prejudice, I thought I could play it at my safehouse.

Dick: Sweet, thanks!

Jason: *unlocks the door*

Dick: *tries to step in*

Jason: *stops him*

Jason: I said I could play it. I never said you could come in. I don't want your you-ness all over my new stuff.

Bruce: Jason, be reasonable.

Harper: Yeah, you got this junk off the side of the road.

Jason: My junk, my rules.

Tim: Then what are we supposed to do?

Jason: Fire escape's around the back. You'll get a decent glance.

~ 20 minutes later ~

Dick: *leans his head in to hear better*

Jason: My air, my rules.

Jason: *closes the window*

———————

[week 4]

Bruce: Cass, it's your turn. Got the movie?

Cass: *nods and plays Rambo on her computer*

Barbara: Uh, why isn't there any sound?

Cass: Volume button broke. Just read lips.

Jason: Kinda hard to do that with the brightness at zero. Did that stop working too?

Duke: Looks fine to me.

Jason: Shut up, Flashlight.

———————

[week 5]

Tim: I brought my entire Star Wars collection.

Bruce, dodging a space laser: Not the time.

Tim: Okay.

Bruce: *punches an alien robot*

Tim: How about now?

———————

[week 6]

Barbara: Sorry I got a cold, but at least we can still have movie night on Zoom. I torrented a copy of The Matrix.

Barbara: *shares her screen*

*movie plays*

Barbara: *leaves herself unmuted*

Barbara: *starts crinkling Sun Chips*

———————

[week 7]

Everyone: *crowd around Damian's phone watching My Neighbor Totoro*

Bette: Why is your phone so small?

Damian: I have tiny hands.

———————

[week 8]

Harper: Because we're watching Cars this week, I thought I could put together an all-immersive experience.

Bruce: BY LOCKING US IN A RUNAWAY SEMI-TRUCK?!?

———————

[week 9]

Duke: I called this company and since we're heroes, they're letting us use their electronic billboard for this week's movie at a huge discount. Kill Bill should be coming on right about...

*movie starts playing*

Jason: Not bad, Narrows.

*billboard switches to an ad*

———————

[week 10]

Carrie: Since Steamboat Willie is now public domain, I thought we could do something different tonight.

Carrie: *pulls out a flipbook*

———————

[week 11]

Everyone: *watching Love, Simon in a dark living room*

*lights flick on*

Apollo and Midnighter: *standing there in date night outfits*

Steph: Um, Cullen, who are these guys?

Cullen: *laughs nervously*

Cullen: Everyone, meet Apollo and Midnighter. They're kinda-sorta my gay uncles and we're kinda-sorta in their apartment and I kinda-sorta didn't expect them to come back early.

Midnighter: Remind me why we gave you a spare key?

———————

[week 12]

Kate: *sets up a projector and plays Glass Onion*

Bruce: Kate, this is a crime scene.

Kate: The fun part's already done, let Gordon do cleanup this time.

———————

[week 13]

Alfred: Back in my day, we did not rely on scrupulous use of technology. Which is why I propose watching a classic Sherlock Holmes tale on a classic instrument.

Alfred: *pulls out a zoetrope*

Steph: Anyone know what that is?

Dick: Not a clue.

———————

[week 14]

Luke: Nothing like a good ol' drive-in movie. Great idea, Helena.

Helena: I know, and the Godfather is perfect for this.

*Batmobile crashes through the screen*

Steph: Sorry we're late.

Duke: I'm still figuring out the PRINDL.

———————

[week 15]

*TV playing the Aristocats*

Bruce, trying to flirt: I like what you've done with the curtains.

Selina: Thanks, but it was Snowball's after-dinner surprise.

*TV blinks off*

Tim: Hey, what gives?

Selina: *takes a chewed-up cord out of a cat's mouth*

Selina, sighing: This is why I married rich.

———————

[week 16]

Luke: May I present the ultimate Snakes On A Plane drone show!

*phone rings*

Luke: Hello? ... Yes, this is he. ... Mhm. ... Yep. ... Okay.

Luke: Never mind, the FAA says I can't.

———————

[week 17]

Everyone: *watching Legally Blonde at Bette's place*

*dogs barking*

*sirens*

*loud music*

*car honk*

*neighbors shouting*

Bette: Sorry, we have thin walls.

Bruce, shrugging: Eh, still not as bad as HOA.

———————

[week 18]

Damian: Where is movie night this time, Father?

Barbara: My money's on another crime scene.

Bruce: Actually, I rented out the theater just for us and they're playing a special edition of The Mark of Zorro. Everyone got their snacks?

Duke: Popcorn, check.

Cass: Licorice, check.

Steph: M&Ms are obviously the right answer by the way.

Dick: I got a slushee.

Jason: I got the slushee machine.

Bruce: Alright then, take your seats. The movie's about to begin.

*movie plays*

*Rogues break in, make a mess, and leave*

Bruce:

Bruce:

Bruce: I miss my parents.

[rheya28]

Sol School of Fashion ♥ The Sims 4: Speed Build // CC

♥ Hi guys, today I present to you SOL School of Fashion "SOF". This build/project is extremely special as I collaborated with the lovely and talented @farfallasims who kindly curated all the looks for the 2023 SOF Fashion Show Event

2023 SOF Fashion Show Theme: LUXURIOUS TROPICS " High end fashion meets the tropics" Looks Curated by: @farfallasims [ Look Book Link ] 25:23 Build by : @rheya28 [ Speed Build & Fashion Show ]

♥ Sol School of Fashion "SOF" is a well known fashion studio/school located in Del Sol Valley. SOF is a space that encourages boldness, creativity, and innovation. Sims can have access to a café, photo studios, a classroom, a meeting room, a lounge, as well as a customizable runway with a backstage dressing room that consist of all the fashion necessities needed to produce a professional fashion show event.

READ ME

♥ I placed this as a Generic Lot as we don’t exactly have a fashion school Lot type, so it’s all just pretend. This lot could also be set as a Café as it meets all the requirements to function as one.

♥ This build was inspired by bbygyal23's Curve Agency , another talented builder so please check out her content!

♥ Warning: This is another CC heavy lot

♥ Please make sure to turn on bb.moveobjects on!

♥ Please DO NOT reupload or claim as your own.

♥ Feel free to tag me if you are using it, I love seeing my build in other peoples save file but please make sure to credit me.

[VIDEO] TIME:

0:02 Intro

1:34 Speed Build

25:23 Fashion Show

27:25 Photos

♥ LOT DETAILS

Lot Name: Sol School of Fashion

Lot type: Generic lot type or Cafe

Lot size: 40x30

Location: Starlight Boulevard, Del Sol Valley

♥ MODS:

TOOL MOD by TwistedMexi

♥ CC LIST:

*Note: I have all parts of all sets in this list unless noted otherwise, so I highly recommend you guys dl them since I frequently use them in all my builds!*

Awingedllama : Boho Living, nostalgia living

Greenllama: The woodwind collection

Novvas: Holz Kitchen

Qicc: Sleep Hallway, Urban Bedroom

S-imagination: Nota

Sooky: Abstract framed posters -wooden frame

Sooky: Bon ton n1 ceiling lamp - Tall

Syboubou: Daguerre Reica Camera, Ballet mirror , fency

The Clutter Cat: Dandy Diary, Mellow moods

Aira : Artist in me

Anye: Zara Bathroom

ATS4: pot 4, pot 13, plant 16 Crafting room: dressform blouse, dressform male, dressform suit, folded fabrics, jar, paperstack, patterns, sewing machine

Harrie: Bafroom, brownstone, kichen

House of Harlix: Baysic, harluxe, brutalist, coastal, kwatei, octave, shop the look 2, spoons, Jardane, Livin Rum, Orjanic, tiny twavellers

Felix Andre: Berlin, Chateau, fayun, colonial, grove, kyoto, paris, shop the look

Brainstrip: my corner cc pack desk only

Charlypancakes: Munch, the lighthouse collection, miscellanea, modish, smol

Leori: Hipster loft

Illogical Sims: Home office

Kaiso: rustico living

Kate Emerald: Blissful baby Ottoman

Kiwisims4: Blockhouse hallway, Blockhouse Dining

Leaf Motif: Devon kitchen

Little Dica: Country side Cabin, Rise & Grind, sleek slumber

Madame Ria: Back to basics paint wall, Limber lumber

Madlen: Hiru misc set

Rusticsims: Mayaken, Modular life

Myls: Simple Clothes rack nordic

Mxims: LG

Myshunosun: Sol kitchen, Arrie Office, Gale dining, Lottie, Macaron kitchen, herbalist kitchen, tranquil bedroom

Peacemaker: Alesund, Hudson, Kitayama, Terra tiles horizontal/vertical, Vera Office

Pierisim: Coldbrew, David Apartment, Domain Du clos, MCM, Oak house, Tilable, unfold, Winter Garden

max20/maxsus: Poolside lounge pack

Sforzinda: Func EP02 Espressogrindomatic, espressoimpresso, cabin slats

sims4luxury: Mcgee&co Callhan rug

Sixam: Artz Living room, small spaces work from home, hotel bedroom, kessler kitchen, stylist wood livingroom, teen room

TaurusDesign: Eliza Bedroom, Elsa kids room

mycupofcc: Modernist

Tuds: 2ndWave, beam, cave, cross, wave

♥ Thank you to all CC Creators

♥ Tray file

♥ Gallery ID: Applez

♥ Twitter: Rheya28__

♥ Tiktok: Rheya28__

[angelbaby-fics]

Cg stucky x little reader x little Peter where he is the older bro and very protective about his little sis and they go to the avenger tower but she is in babyspace and non-verbal and he won't let anyone near her and is like "nooooo she to tiny you make her owie" and when someone else than their caregivers try to pick her up he Hit the person and get punished by daddies

Baby's Bodyguard

Word Count: 800

A/N: This is such a sweet idea!!!! I love big bro Peter & there's gonna be a lot more of him coming in the future I think 💕 Also nobody yell at me but I haven't actually watched Hawkeye & I don't know anything about Kate imsosorry enjoy!! 💕

Joining the Rogers-Barnes family as their precious and littlest baby was the greatest thing that happened to everyone involved, but nobody took on a greater pride than your big bubba Peter. Steve and Bucky had been worried at first that he wouldn’t take it well, no longer being an only child and the absolute center of their attention. To their surprised delight, however, Peter took on his new older sibling responsibilities with a soldier’s pride. 

Any time you were out on an errand or playing in the park, Peter took it upon himself to keep a watchful eye on you, even though your daddies were more than capable. Whenever you weren’t in your daddies’ arms, you were holding Peter’s hand. At the playground, he’d go down the slide first to make sure it wasn’t too fast, and then wait at the bottom to catch you as you followed. When you ordered food in a restaurant, Peter always took the first bite to make sure it was safe. Well, maybe that one wasn’t as much about protection as it was getting an extra bite, but still. At parties and playdates it was a little easier for him to get distracted, but he always made sure you were within earshot.

That’s how you found yourself now, in one of the common rooms of the sprawling Avengers compound, stacking blocks into a castle while Peter half paid attention to Wanda’s game of pretend on the other side of the room, his focus divided between her and you. Steve was standing around the snack table talking to Bruce and Tony, while Bucky and Sam cracked open a couple of beers on the balcony. It wasn’t a party so much as a lively get-together, team members and family only. 

It also happened to be Kate’s first party with the gang. Kate had been kind to you the few times you had met her, engaged with you in your pretend games and played hide and seek around the compound with you and your friends, but you didn’t trust her all the way yet. She was new here, she didn’t know that the only ones you allowed to carry you were your daddies. When Tony announced that dinner was ready, she was the closest to you, so she picked you up to carry you into the dining room with everyone. She meant well, she handled you gently, but that meant nothing to you at this moment. 

Peter’s spidey senses noticed it first, the sharp intake of your breath as you started to wail. Poor Kate didn’t realize what was happening as everything unfolded. A sticky web splatted into the back of her shirt as Peter ran over to the two of you. 

“No! You put baby down!!” He shouted, smacking the side of Kate’s arm like a cat batting a toy; not enough to hurt her.

Kate let go of you as you flung yourself into Peter’s arms, now sobbing from both the fright of being picked up by a new person and the commotion that had followed it. Peter barely had time to comfort you when a strong voice rang out over the noise. 

“Hey!” Steve shouted, not needing to say anything else to get everyone in the room silent and staring at him. Even you had stopped crying when you saw your daddy enter the room. Peter immediately spoke out in your defense. 

“She was scaring baby!” He cried out, pointing an accusatory finger at Kate.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t! I was just bringing her to dinner!” Kate defended herself, desperately hoping the super soldier would understand. It wasn’t Steve she was worried about, though; Bucky was glaring at her with ice cold eyes. 

Steve placed a calming hand on his husband’s shoulder, calming him instantly.

“Alright, everybody calm down,” Steve said, his face softening as he turned to meet your eyes. “Are you hurt, babydoll?”

You shook your head, reaching out for your daddy’s arms. 

“I promise,” Kate said, “all I did was pick her up!” “I believe you.” Steve nodded. “She just doesn’t like getting picked up by anybody but her family. It's okay, you didn’t know yet.” Kate smiled, grateful for the forgiveness. Your tears had dried, your breathing had calmed, and your tummy had started to rumble. Steve gave you a kiss on the head, and with the chaos settled, everyone began to shuffle off to the dining room. Peter mingled in amongst them until he felt a cold hand on the back of his shirt. 

“Uh uh, not so fast kiddo,” Bucky warned, pulling the youngster aside. “I saw you hit Kate. That’s not nice and you know it.”

Peter looked down at his sneakers. “I’m sorry Baba,” he said dejectedly.

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to Kate. Bucky let Peter go, following him into the kitchen before adding: “and no dessert tonight!”

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Follow me on my delusional rant for a second: we all know that stiles was kinda but not really obsessed with the hale fire yes?? What if he just a tiny bit more obsessed with it and less with Lydia. The sheriff turns a blind eye to this because this was the most lively his son had been since his mother died. The sheriff also can’t figure why this case doesn’t feel right to him, but if anyone can figure it out it’s his son.

He goes on a deep dive about the hales. There comes a point where he can’t access anymore information legally; so he goes to Danny to teach him how to hack. This gets Lydia attention but not enough to get her to help, yet.

So stiles learns and he hacks into the school database, the police, and generally every establishment that the hales have frequented. He finds a pattern of suspiciously missed full moons, high grocery bills the next morning. He finds Paige and Kate. He finds a paper trail to the fire.

He shows it to his dad. With this evidence the sheriff looks into the case. This is what causes Lydia to talk to stiles. She pulls up to his house the very next morning the sheriff reopens the case. She liked Cora and would do anything to get the person who killed her. This cause a deeper dive of obsession. Together they look into the supernatural side of beacon hills. They find Lydia’s grandmother, and Lydia is able to understand what she is before it becomes a problem.

I’m a Stiles and Lydia sibling truther. They become that duo. Just over all becoming the pretty twins of beacon hills.

Lydia gets familiar ties to the stilinskis. Something that she doesn’t get at home. The sheriff loves her, absolutely dotes on her. He’s always wanted a daughter. Stiles becomes far more confident and comfortable in his skin. They have spa days and sleepovers. Stiles lets Lydia practice makeup on him. Lydia has her own room at the Stilinski’s, it becomes a safe haven for her.

They both watch over the sheriffs diet like hawks; fast food places are terrified when the sheriff comes in to order food. “No sheriff, I actually can’t give you a double burger because I’m still traumatized from your kids”. Lydia creates a binder of healthy meals, while stiles cooks them. (Lydia cannot cook)

Stiles comforts her when Jackson is being a dick. Stiles becomes frienimes with Jackson. When Jackson swings by the house the sheriff quietly brings out his gun and cleans it in front of him. Lydia pretends to be embarrassed but she’s absolutely glowing. Jackson also become close with the sheriff, especially after him and Lydia break up. (They were gay and lesbian solidarity)

With the amount of digging Stiles and Lydia did they would have figured out Peter was being poisoned. I also believe that they would have found Cora was still alive. This brings Laura and Derek back to beacon hills, starting the rise of the hale pack.

Like imagine season one Derek meeting confident stiles with lipstick. Your honour it’s over for him.

Derek still becomes an alpha after the alpha pack comes and he kills one of them. (I’m also a Alpha Derek hale truther)

Stiles and Lydia are both “little reds”

Derek and Cora being super fucking cocky that they’re mated to the pretty twins of beacon hills

The sheriff also cleans his gun in front of Derek and Cora. He’ll be damned doesn’t get to pull the protective father for his kids.

Anyway thanks for coming to my Ted talk

[newtonsheffield]

If married Kanthony were so beautiful I can't even begin to imagine how delightful papa Anthony is going to be. Any snippets off the top of your head for the love of our collective lives Molly?

Oh he’s going to be absolutely unbearable as a new Papa.

Imagine him fluttering about Kate like a worried mother goose, constantly trying to get Kate a cushion for the small of her back or a stool for her feet and after his son is born he is… unbearable.

“You need to let your family in.” Kate hummed, both of them staring down at the baby between them, her lips pressed to Anthony’s forehead and her hand shook as her finger traced the brow of their newborn son, sleeping already. “I know your mother will be anxious.”

Kate’s own mother had left just moments ago, kissing her daughter’s brow with a soft What a beautiful boy, well done darling.

Anthony huffed, his chest tight as he stared at his son. His son. He was a father now. Responsible for this boy who was nestled between him and Kate. He’d thought so much about children when he’d decided to marry. It had even been the main reason he’d set his mind to do it. An heir, that was all he needed and instead he had found Kate and he’d begun to long for children in an entirely different way. He wanted more of Kate. He wanted to see her mischievous smile on a child they’d made together and watch them grow and learn. And now they had a son. He had a thick shock of dark hair falling on his brow, his chubby little fist tight around Anthony’s finger but Anthony had been so terrified that something would go wrong. Right until the baby’s loud cries had split the afternoon, and the midwife had crowed.

“A very healthy boy, Lady Bridgerton. Well done.”

Anthony hadn’t been able to take his eyes off their son as the baby had been presented to him, even before he’d been given to Kate. Anthony had sat back on the bed, gently manoeuvring the baby so he was cradled between them, resting his forehead against Kate’s “He’s so beautiful, Love. Thank you, thank you.”

They were still there now.

“Let them be anxious another moment.”

Kate let out a tired chuckle, “Go on. We can watch him all night.”

Anthony sighed, passing Edmund to Kate before he stood from the bed, kissing his wife gently. “Prepare yourself, I suppose.”

He opened the door and slipped out himself, unsurprised to find his mother right outside and Benedict trying a little halfheartedly to keep her from barging in. “Mama, perhaps you’d like to meet your grandson.”

She rushed forward, wrapping him tightly in her arms, “Oh, Darling. Congratulations.”

Benedict clapped him on the shoulder as he lead them into the room, “A tiny Viscount after all!”

“Oh, Kate.” His mother had already pushed her way over to the bed, peering down at Edmund while Anthony rolled his eyes at his brother. “He’s so precious. Anthony frowned just the same way when he was a baby.”

“Would you like to hold Edmund?”

They’d decided on the name months ago now, Kate so Adamant that they were having a boy and his chest felt tight as his mother swallowed thickly, nodding.

“I’d love to.”

Anthony watched as she took the baby gently from Kate, her hands shaking.

“Mother, please be gentle! He’s only little, support his head.”

“Yes, thank you, Anthony.” His mother sighed, “I did have eight children myself.”

“I was born quite a while ago.”

“And babies don’t change!”

“We were nearly having a nice moment there.” Benedict mused from the doorway, inclining his head to Kate, “Congratulations on the tiny Anthony. As someone who remembers him as a child; I’m sorry for the chaos that’s about to unfold.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” Kate smiled, winking at Benedict.

“I don’t like the two of you ganging up on me.”

“I don’t think we care, brother. Mother, let me hold my nephew, please. I need to begin corrupting him.”

[cod-dump]

🔫 i demand a immediate continuation of teen!au roach!!!! ((only if you feel up to it and have time if not im sorry for *bugging* you))

Roach (teen!Ghost au)

———

It was a strange morning. Nik was nowhere in sight and John was quietly preparing breakfast.

Farah was the first down, wondering where Nik was and why the coffee pot wasn’t on. Kyle was down next, half asleep and unaware of the changes as he sat at the table and slumped over. Farah wouldn’t say anything, just stare at John. When Simon came down to let Riley out into the garden, he noticed Nik’s absence.

“Where’s Nik?”

John slowed his movements before he started making plates, “Something… came up last night.”

Kyle perked up awake, Simon’s anxiety spreading to him. John’s silence made it worse, which he realized, so he quickly started to explain in order to calm them.

“He’s fine, he’s actually in the bedroom.”

“Did you two have a fight?” Farah asked, concern deep in her eyes. She had plenty of experiences of fighting parents.

“No, no fight. Just Nik’s usual antics and… well, I need to call Kate.”

They all stared, looking at each other as if the other might know more to what was happening. John gave them all plates before he made another. When he walked past them all to go upstairs, that’s when their suspicion peaked. He didn’t eat in bed, neither did Nik.

“Is someone up there?” Kyle muttered, unable to find the will to eat.

“Has to be.”

Simon was very quiet, staring at where their father disappeared to. Everything was so out of place that Riley came into the room. He was being trained to not be in there when they ate but he was confused with the lack of the usual breakfast chaos. Simon just passed him a piece of toast, the pup taking it gently before he ran off gleefully with his spoils.

An hour would pass and the three barely ate even half of their food before they heard someone coming downstairs. John re-enters the kitchen, standing in the threshold as if he was meant to prevent them from coming through to the hall.

“Kids, we… have a guest. He’s staying until Kate can come and sort out his situation.”

Their attention was directed to a very happy Riley, who was trying to play with someone. They assumed it was Nik until they saw tiny hands pet him.

They collectively gasped, Farah pointing past John.

“Child.”

“Yes-“

“You have another child-“

John sighs, “Nik found him.”

Kyle had leaned down from his chair in order to get a better angle and see the kid in the hall. They made eye contact and the boy abandoned playing with Riley and ran to into the living room. There was a grunt and quiet Russian. He ran to Nik.

Simon blinks after hearing Nik try to comfort the child, looking at his father with wide eyes, “When I said I liked being a big brother, I meant that as I like Kyle and Tommy.”

John glares and Simon looks down. He sighs after a moment, knowing Simon didn’t mean it to be rude and was definitely in shock of a child becoming a surprise housemate.

“He’s not staying long. I… Kate is going to see to making sure he goes to someone who can care for him. She’ll probably call a friend of hers to help.”

The boys look at each other, Farah making a face as she thinks. No more words would be exchanged on the subject between them, at least not to John. They were quiet and made themselves scarce, allowing their young house guest to have space.

The boy had been with them a little under twenty four hours and he had not spoken a word. They had no idea what his name was and where Nik found him didn’t give any answers. They didn’t know how old he was other than he was a small boy, they didn’t know if he could read or write considering he never reacted to the note pads or them gently asking if he could write his name.

They knew nothing about him and John couldn’t help but worry. This little boy, found by a group of thugs that were probably speaking a language he didn’t understand. John wondered what he had gone through, what he had seen.

“When did Kate say she’ll be here?”

Simon was attempting to befriend the nameless boy, five or six hours after he and the others learned of him. John gave him some credit despite his approach being similar to what one would do with a stray dog. The boy wasn’t very fond of letting him get close and would dart away if he made one move out of place.

He was determined, he’ll give him that.

“Later tonight, I believe. She has to wait for Alex to get out of band practice before she heads over.”

“Nerd,” Simon muttered, remaining on the floor as he watched Riley make fast friends with their house guest.

John sighed, he couldn’t handle another kid. He adored his sons and Farah, but to add another child to the mix? One that is younger and at a different point in his life than the others? It seemed too much but… he had a hard time turning away those in need. And even though the kid wasn’t trusting of him, he was in need.

———

[starthelostboys]

i think that paul hates silence and he has to have some kind of background noise at all times, whether that’s music or people talking or something else

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Nine

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Graphic descriptions of domestic violence. Medical chart from a SANE EXAM. Simon's family history, trauma. Brief sexual content. Hospital setting, nurse!reader, medical inaccuracies. Heavy emotions. Scars. Reader in pain. Hurt/comfort. Kate is a dog with a bone. Penny is cute. POV switches. Simon and Johnny make a discovery, and a promise.

You can’t breathe.

The air is too thin, too tight, and you stand, silent, in the foyer of the home that you’ve been invited to.

A clock ticks on the wall. You count each second, waiting. 

You should leave. You should run. 

Simon’s footsteps echo above your head, already up the stairs with your first bag and work backpack.

He said to make yourself at home, but you can’t move.

The foyer is the foyer of a family. There is a hall tree with little shoes scattered beneath it, a tiny, pink backpack hanging on the hook. Too many wellies to count, all in pastel colors, matching a small yellow and green rain jacket that’s folded on the stairs. There’s a black hoodie, a black jacket, and a green on the coat rack, hung haphazardly with a toss. Men’s sizes, and you notice two pairs of trainers next to one pair of black boots, and two crayons hide, peeking out from under the bench, one blue, one purple, so worn down they’re almost half gone.

A home. A family. 

“Hey, so up-“ You flinch. The jolt has you stumbling, one misstep over another, and he tenses, prepared to steady you, careful hand outstretched, but not encroaching.

“Sorry.” You shouldn’t be here. 

“No, I’m sorry. I know better.” You blink, and the silence is heavy, weighted down like bricks at the bottom of a river. 

He’s still wearing the mask. 

 “Can I… give you a tour?”

“S-sure.”

You lose your breath again in the kitchen.

Simon turns away to the sink, loading dishes into the dishwasher as you stare at the fridge and its collage with a tight chest. It’s covered; photos, invitations, magnets, notes, finger painted masterpieces. You step closer, studying, noticing the way they all fit together, mix matched perfectly, and even in the pictures, the three of them glow effortlessly, too sweet and smiling, happy. Together. A family. A perfect unit.

Your nose tingles, and you blink back the tears that fight forward, wiping away the two that escape and trickle down your cheek. You don’t know why it overwhelms you, why it fills you with grief.

What is it like, to be loved like that? To have a family, like this? 

Get it together. You’re a guest in their house.

It’s too much, and you chastise yourself for getting so emotional over nothing, over something stupid.

You need to be alone. 

Dry sandpaper scrubs the back of your throat when you swallow. “Simon?” He turns, concerned, glancing at the fridge and then back to you, drying his hands on a towel.  

“What is it?”

“Can I… I’m sorry. I’m… tired.” You try to explain your needs but it’s awkward on your mouth, uncomfortable. His expression creases with sympathy.

“Of course, c’mon. I’ll show you.”

“Alright, one more step.”

“’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, bun. You’re alright.” In the back of your mind, you’re registering Simon’s warmth, the wilted lean that has you tipped into him, slow steps on the stairs, one by one as you fight to stay upright. He’s warm, and pillowy… the kind of comfort you could sink into, disappear inside for a while. It sounds so… nice.

But your shoulder is throbbing. The pain combined with the emotions swirling about in your heart has you on the verge of tears, top teeth dug into your lip, and your molars grind against one other with each step.

“It’s just at the end of the hall.”

You shouldn’t be doing this. Even now, after agreeing, getting in the car, getting yourself here… the desire to bolt runs hot under your skin, buzzing inside your skull, an insistent need.

You’re in their house. Where they live. With their baby. 

What if he comes back? What if he hurts them? 

“Hey.” Simon says your name slowly, ducking down to get your attention. Fuck.

“Sorry, I’m just… exhausted.”

“I’m sure. It’s right here.” He opens the door to a room, flicking on a light switch. The walls are a sage green, a gentle hue that matches the bedspread, framed photos organized into a gallery wall, pictures of smiles and laughter, a tiny Penny in Simon’s naked arms, a candid shot of Johnny in full military regalia, the three of them together somewhere, hiking, with Pen snuggled in a papoose on Johnny’s chest. The bed is the centerpiece, a massive king size piled with pillows, and it looks so inviting, so soft that you want to collapse into it right here and now.

“Wow.” It’s the best you can do, considering the screeching agony vibrating in your shoulder. You try to breathe through it, but the pain only shortens your draw.

“Yeah, it’s our old bed. Very comfortable.” He puts your other duffel down by the dresser, and you try not to dwell on the idea of it once being theirs, where they slept, where they’ve loved one another, held each other, their child, their- “It’s got its own bathroom, just through here.” He’s on the other side of the room, turning on a light that is far too bright, and you squint, jerking away with a gasp. Are you getting a migraine too? “Shit, sorry.” The room spins. You stumble towards the bed, limbs heavy, head full of cement, wooziness blurring your immediate sight. You’re disjointed, a mess of pain and disorientation, and you cover your eyes with a palm.

“Sorry, I think… I think I’m getting a headache. My shoulder-“ it slips out before you can stop yourself, and even with your eyes closed, you know Simon is staring at you, picking you apart with his eyes.

“Your shoulder?” You’re on a runaway train now. It has no brakes. No destination. It just barrels down the tracks, unable to stop for rational thought or pleas of mercy. It has no plan, and it does not heed you. You’re helpless. Hopeless. Lost. Reaching out for a light in the dark, a rope, a life vest, and a sob breaks through to the surface.

“It really hurts.”

“It hurts?” His voice cuts, tone worried. “Which one?” You use your good side to point, shakily.

“I’m sorry. I’m s-sorry.” You try to tell him, try to explain that you don’t mean to cry, or be emotional. You don’t mean to be making a fuss. You’re not supposed to be a problem.

A warm hand lays atop your thigh, thumb rubbing into your scrub pants.

“Sweetheart, you’re in pain. You don’t have to apologize for crying.” Your vision blurs, thick with tears, and fingers gently probe along your shoulder cuff. When you flinch, he swears. “Shhh, alright. Easy.” He’s gentling a spooked horse, carefully feeling along where you ache as you cry through it, unable to stop. “I’m going to go get some ice. We can… wrap it up, if you think that will help?”

“Ye-yeah, okay.” His steps fade, and you try to get your top off, sliding the arm that doesn’t hurt underneath your turtleneck, which is confined by the rigidity of your scrub top.

When you try the other one, the pain is so sharp, a cry bursts from your lips, and Simon sprints up the stairs. How did it get so much worse between the beginning of your shift and now? 

“What happened?”

“I can’t… I can’t get my shirts off.” You uselessly tug at the hem, eyes half open, letting it fall from your fingers, stuck in a loop, frantic movements matching the increasing pace of your lungs.

“Can I help?” His face is lined in concentration, and you spot an icepack on the bed now, with a sling, and a wrap. They’re prepared. Must come home with a fair number of injuries. “Bun, are you with me?” You sniffle and nod. What choice do you have? What choice do you ever have? The pain is too much. It’s all too much, and it boils over until you need to get the shirts off, not caring that it will expose you, or show Simon the very details you’re always trying to hide. You’re too far lost now, too far gone.

If you’re here, in their home, shouldn't you let them see? Shouldn't you let them know? 

The truth is terrifying, the reality of the trust you have in them. You know Simon won’t hurt you, instinctively. You feel safe here, in their home, their old bed, and when he looks at you, you show him, just for a second, the fractured mirror that is your reflection. You show him the pain and the rage and the fear, you give him everything. You shove the girl in the mirror forward, you force her into the sun and you hold her face to the light, trying not to sob as she screams at you in protest.

Just for a second.

“Okay.” He nods, and then cups your cheek. “You’re okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” You nod with tears that sting, and then you slowly pull away, slipping back into yourself, hiding the girl in the mirror away, making more promises to her that you’re not sure you’re going to keep.

“We’re going to put this one,” He slowly, carefully lifts the arm with the bad shoulder until it’s resting on his own, “right here. That alright?” A whimper builds, but you give him another nod, breathing through the anguish. There are a million little needles in your shoulder, all stabbing you over and over, ripping and gnawing at the cartilage, or the bone, or the muscle… you can’t be sure. “I’m going to bring your scrub top up now. Is this okay?” his fingers peel it from the turtleneck, and when he gets to your head, you incline your neck, more tears rushing forth.

“Yeah.” You whisper, a tired, pained moan, falling from your lips without permission.

“I know it hurts; I know. Almost there, try to breathe.” He soothes you, and the top slides towards him along your arm. He pulls it free, throwing it on the floor somewhere, his hands returning to your thighs.

“Sorry.” It’s automatic, ingrained. A reaction to pain, to fear, to the idea of being a burden, something that haunts you, every day. He ignores it.

“Ready for the next?” The turtleneck comes less easy, but the two of you are in sync like dance partners. The pain shoots up your arm when you move your neck again, and Simon wipes a few tears from your cheek, carefully leaning you back into the pillows and pulling the comforter down.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, the raw edge of surprise, horror, you’re sure, and you close your eyes. You can't look at him, when you know what he sees. You know what you look like. A roadmap of foolishness. Of weakness. You know the scars are plainly on display, still raised, still ugly. Like you.

He says nothing, only sits at your side, bed dipping with his weight. “I’m going to take your shoes off too, okay?” He narrates and asks for permission with each touch, pulling your sneakers free, satisfying thunk of each one hitting the floor, and then moves on to sliding the ice pack underneath you, wrapping it firmly but not too tight, ensuring it stays in place. He’s tender and slow, thoughtful, your eyes fighting to stay closed, brain and body starting to drift off into uncomfortable sleep. “Not yet, sweetheart.” There’s a rattle, two pills being deposited into your hand.

“What are these?"

“Paracetamol.” He turns the bottle, label out, word coming into focus enough to be verified, and you swallow them down with the glass of water in his outstretched hand.

“Thank you.” The croak stays lodged in your throat, and his eyes crinkle, the sign of a smile.

“Get some rest.” It’s comfort he gives you, leaning forward, pressing mask covered lips to your forehead. Comfort that doesn’t elicit a flinch or a sense of wariness, and you bask in the shine of the sun on your skin, holding tight to it, slipping into a dreamless sleep.

“Banky.” Pen demands, hands outstretched.

“No binky, it’s lunch time. Lunch.” Simon makes the sign for lunch, L shaped pointer finger and thumb, circling the corner of his mouth. He does it a few times, accompanied with the word again and again until Penny huffs and leans back, eyes wide. “You try. You try, lunch.”

“No!” She shrieks, and he shushes her, scattering some banana puffs across her tray.

“Shhh Pen. Bun is sleeping, remember?”

“Bunny seep?” She gives him the sign for sleep, or her sign at least, a palm dragging down her face followed by very dramatic closing lids. “Seep?”

“Yes, sleeping.” Simon makes the sign to acknowledge she was correct. “Good job.” He gives her a thumbs up, and she smiles, sweetness melting away some of the tense worry that's taken up in his heart.

“Puff?” She holds one out to him, but he shakes his head, pointing at her mouth.

“For you. Eat them, eat your puffs.” He signs along with the words, and she mimics him, food in hand, eyes lighting up when she finally makes it in her mouth.

He glances towards the stairs. You’re in the guest room, far enough away that Penny’s noise shouldn’t wake you, but still he tries to keep her preoccupied, distracted from making a fuss.

He wants you to get as much sleep as possible, this morning’s discovery of your shoulder unsettled him more than he’s frankly comfortable with, and the image of your swollen, battered face and neck leers and taunts. 

She’s safe now. She’s here. 

“Dada.” Pen calls, and he smiles, leaning forward to brush his lips across his baby’s soft skin, wispy curls tickling his nose. 

“Love you, baby girl.” He signs it too, and she beams.

“Luh.” It’s supposed to be love, and though the word is a struggle, the sentiment is the same. He doesn’t care that she’s not quite got it yet, he’ll take every word, every syllable he can get. These moments, each moment with his child, Johnny’s child, theirs… is a gift, one he never thought he’d have until Johnny. A privilege.

His phone vibrates with a text message.  

>Simon

>Give me a ring when you get a chance. On the black cell.  

“Thought you were on vacation?” Kate sighs, click clack of keys echoing in the background.

“I am, but if I’m too idle I start to go crazy. The wife likes it when I have a project.” Simon pauses, cocking his head. Penny’s feet kick in the highchair, baby spoon banging against the plastic tray.

“Hang on, Kate.” He drags a kitchen chair over in front of her so he can sit, pinning the phone between his shoulder and chin to twist the lid off the applesauce pouch. “Shhh, here you go." Penny gurgles with a grin at the taste of the fruit, and he smiles back at her. "So, what’s the new project then?”

“The nurse.” Simon’s eyes dart to the floor above his head.

“It’s not a good time.”

“I can talk, you can listen.” She brushes him off, sipping something with ice and then continuing. “I found it hard to believe that a civilian would be able to scrub their footprint like this, so I did a little digging. The more digging I did, the worse my fixation became.” Like a dog with a bone.Simon holds his breath. “I just needed a key, and with those photos you provided, well, things just started unraveling.”

“Kate.” He growls because he can’t manage anything else. He’s trying to keep himself still, heart pounding in his chest. Penny coos, like she notices the shift in her dad’s demeanor, and he immediately attends her, thumbing at a smear of applesauce on her cheek.

“I found a SANE exam from a few years ago. Small hospital in southern Colorado, right over the border from Texas. Patient’s name is Jane Doe, but the photos are almost an exact match.” His stomach lurches, dark clouds shadowing his vision, world splitting into blood and rage. Violence.

He didn’t want to be right.

He wanted to it to be anything, anything but this.

Who? 

Is it the same person that choked you? Beat you? Tore your shoulder damn near out of its socket? 

His gaze drifts to Penny.

They'll need to loop Price in, immediately. 

“Can you send it to me?”

“It’s already in your email.” She speeds past, eagerly. “There’s more. I used the photo to run facial recognition on archives in neighboring states and got a host of hits from Texas. You’ll have to visually confirm, but if I’m right, I’ve got positive ID on your girl.”

“How?”

“School. She graduated high school a year before the rest of her class, ended up with a full scholarship to Rice University in Houston, Texas. Went on to get a bioscience degree and graduated from Rice early.” Pride flutters beneath his ribs, honeyed and heavy. Their smart girl. “She ends up at a different school for pre-med but drops out before the first year ends. Not sure what happened but she started an accelerated nursing program, and breezed through it. You should see her transcripts. I don’t think this girl has gotten less than an A+ on anything since kindergarten.”

“Send them over.”

“Already done. After that, she starts work at a local hospital, and then… nothing. Her paper trail stops. Her job disappears. She’s a ghost except for the sealed court records, and now the Jane Doe medical chart, but that didn’t happen until later. The aliases she’s used over the past few years, they’re in the wind. It’s really quite impressive. She’s either got a connection somewhere, or she’s CIA.” Kate is animated, talking quickly, and he interrupts her to get to the question that’s weighing on him, brushing off the latter immediately. You’re not a honeypot. He spots those a mile away.

“You know her name, then. Her birth name?”

“I do.” She’s silent for a moment, and then she gives it softly. First, middle and last.

He closes his eyes. He tries to imagine you as a girl, on the playground, playing tags with other kids, all of them shouting your name, or as a teenager, in a fight with a parent, one of them yelling your name. He pictures you as a uni student, with your friends, laughing and having a good time somewhere, one of them hollering your name over too loud music. You’ve had a whole life with that name, a whole story. You were a person with that name, and he tries to imagine the way it would sound on your tongue, on Johnny’s, even his.

You’re a ghost now, will you let them bring you into the light?

Will you let them help you reclaim it; the way Johnny helped him reclaim his own?

Kate subtly coughs on the other end of the line.

“Thanks, Kate.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll keep digging. Check your email when you get a chance.”

“Will do.”

“Oh! And the hotel, I sent that paperwork to your email as well.” He thanks her, again, tells her to try to enjoy her time off and hangs up just as Penny starts to fidget, unhappy with being in the highchair for so long without attention.

“Alright, lamb. Let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?” He pulls her free, showering kisses all over her cheeks and neck that make her giggle. “Can’t be wearin’ your applesauce and pajamas over to John and Lou’s, can you?”

Johnny is anxious. Simon can see it a mile away, even before he gets in the room, he notices how he is fidgets, unspent energy and too much time to dwell culminating in an unsettled state.

So, when he kisses him first thing, he makes it long and slow. He drags Johnny’s bottom lip between his teeth, carefully taking his time until he’s sure his partner is half hard beneath his hospital gown and blanket.

“Si.” Johnny groans, and he relents, pulling away to cradle his face between his hands, taking him in, every line, every fleck of gold in his blue eyes, soaking up the healing, healthy glow that glimmers in his skin.

His doctor says it won’t be long now, until he can come home, and Simon is counting the days.

To have everyone, under one roof, feels like a fever dream.

“Missed you.” Johnny noses into his neck, and Simon reciprocates with a kiss to his temple, his cheek.

“Missed ye too.” He pauses, squeezing his hand. “Pen?”

“Alright. Grumpy this morning. Think she wanted to see you.” She did, he knows it, but he tries not to pile it on. Johnny knows their daughter misses him, as much as he misses her. They’re two peas in a pod, best friends, halves to a whole. They’re both suffering. “Went with Lou and John fine. I’ll bring her in the morning.”

“Good.” He nods, tilting his chin for another kiss, and Simon gives it without hesitation, basking in the warmth and familiar feel  of his skin.

When he clears his throat, he pulls away with a sigh. “How is she?”

“In pain. Shoulder is nearly torn out of the socket, and her neck is in poor shape. I had to help get her into bed, she couldn’t get her shirt off. Emotionally she’s… still got the walls up, but she let them slip for a second last night, before she let me help her. And I caught her crying in front of the fridge. Think the photos of Pen got to her somehow.” His stomach twists, new, horrifying possibility dawning on him. Do you have a child somewhere? 

“Did she get any sleep?”

“She hadn’t come down when I left to take Penny, so I assume so.”

“Good. She needs it.” Simon agrees. After injury, after trauma, body and mind need so much more care. More rest, more nutrients, water, protein. More love.

“Kate called.” He bites the bullet, fingers flexing against his knee. “She found a loose end and tugged it.” Johnny straightens. He’s every bit the solider, even laid up in bed. Waxy, soft features turn razor sharp and focused, except instead of his practiced steadiness, he’s chomping at the bit.

“Tell me.”

Simon does. He tells him everything Kate said, almost verbatim. Johnny’s face changes from worried to enraged when he finally gets to the medical chart.

“No.” Johnny’s whisper is faint, thin, papyrus. Brittle and broken, almost washed away, and Simon doesn’t blame him. The chart is horrific for them, was horrific for him earlier, turned his stomach until he thought he’d be sick.

He’s killed. He’s tortured. But to be there when Johnny revealed the handprinted tender skin on your neck, to be there when you cried out in pain last night, when he saw the scars on your body, the cigarette burns that were so familiar, to look at these photos and know that you’ve been brutalized beyond belief, makes his vision run red and his heart ache.

There’s a ghost in these photos. A different girl, but the same, a glimpse of what he saw last night. Still their bunny, their girl. He can see her, through the broken blood vessels and compound forearm fracture. He can see her past the swollen cheekbone and broken nose, the fresh burns on your stomach and torso. The doctor’s notes indicate that you said you were mugged, and sexually assaulted, but refused to finish the SANE exam and took off.

He's not surprised. 

The first time he saw the burns on your naked skin, he swore he could his mother’s screams, and for the hundredth time today, Simon thinks of her. He wonders, if she ever went to a hospital, if she ever begged anyone to help her, or them. He wonders if someone saw what was happening, how she was slowly disappearing, sinking in on herself, and tried to help. He wonders if she felt as alone as you seem to. If she too, became a ghost.

He looks at these photos and cannot fight the pain, the memories.

“Oh, Si.” Johnny cups his cheek, thumb soothing softly across his skin, trying to wipe away the tears that fall. He can’t stop them, not now, and Johnny does not ask, only holds him through it, lets him cry into his hands, pain and suffering of a small, frightened boy coming out of his body in broken sobs.

He won’t fail you. Not like he did her.

After minutes turn long, he takes a deep breath, pressing his lips to Johnny’s palm, and utters a promise as cold as death. 

“We’ll kill them. Whoever it is.”

[strangersteddierthings]

Porcelain Steve - Part 3

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

Eddie hasn't moved from his spot on the Harrington's living room floor since El placed Steve back in his hands two hours ago except to switch his weight from side to side, depending on which buttcheek is currently numb. The mass exodus from the Byers-Hopper house to the Harringtons had taken less than 15 minutes and there has not been peace since, hence the remaining-on-the-floorness of it all for Eddie.

People stop by his stop in the living room to talk to Steve, looming over Eddie in their uncertainty. He stopped offering for people to take Steve after the third rejection because Eddie gets it; he's still the most chill about this (except Argyle, but Argyle is currently high, and Eddie is exceptionally sober and perhaps resenting that fact a bit) but he gets it. The situation is fucking freaky and maybe the thought of holding their transformed babysitter slash older brother figure slash hero might be a bit harrowing.

Of course, there's always an exception, so when Max lowers herself to the living room floor next to him, cane set down between them, and says, "Give him here." Eddie obeys, instructing her to hold her hands out so he can place Steve in them upright and facing her. Max's bones had healed alright, but she'd never get her vision back.

"Am I looking at his face?" She asks, gripping him around the waist with two hands like he's a messy hamburger.

Eddie can't actually tell from this angle if she's looking at his face but it's got to be close enough, so he says, "Yeah."

"Hey Steve," Max starts. "Everyone else is too much of a wuss to hold you but don't worry. They'll get over it. Not going to lie to you, though, this is pretty weird, but, like, mostly because I expected your body to be squishy, like a stuffed toy or those babydolls Holly drags around and forces us to take care of when we all hang out at the Wheeler's house. You know, the ones that are like soft with the plastic head, hands, and feet? That's what I expected." She runs one thumb up and down on his torso before tacking on, "ugh, this feels like a polo. Eddie, is he wearing a polo?"

"Yeah. I think he's in the outfit he was wearing when whatever happened happened. The polo was tucked into his jeans but Robin untucked it to check if there were scars on his lil' porcelain tummy."

"Are there?"

"Yeah. Painted on, Robin says. It's pretty accurate."

"Like, chest hair and all?"

"I... don't know? You'll have to ask Robin. She was the one holding him like two inches from her face."

Max's attention goes back to Steve. "I bet your tiny polo looks cute, simply because it's tiny. Only way a polo could be cute, Steve. I still can't believe you dress this way because you like it. And worse, I can't believe you actually pull off the look."

Eddie looks on, amused, as Max rambles from there. Which is an experience. Max isn't quiet by any means, but she's not a talk to fill the silence type, which is what this seems like. The topics are mundane, like how summer school is going, and about her plans to try and teach El how to skateboard using only verbal directions, and debating the pros and cons of trying to convince her mom to let her get a seeing-eye dog. Then, they make a turn Eddie didn't expect.

"I think I'm going to be mostly on babysitting duty instead of active research and rescue. You know, on account of the blindness and all. So, like, I hope you're going be okay just hanging out with me and listening to Kate Bush for hours."

He should not be feeling a twist in his gut of jealousy at the fact Max wants to take Porcelain Steve from him, and yet. "You gonna look after him, Max?"

She shrugs, turns her face towards Eddie, "I figured we'd all take turns babysitting. Might get boring for him otherwise. He'd drop everything to watch us, if this had happened to us. He has done that. We have to do the same for him. Plus, Steve likes to check in on us, don't you Steve? What better way than to give you, like, a day with everyone in rotation."

"Always the savior, never the saved, huh?" Eddie is trying to joke but Max's face twists into a frown and her arms lower for the first time, lower so Steve's little porcelain face stares up at the ceiling.

"No. Not always."

"Oh?"

"I saved him, once. From Billy. It was my fault he was even in danger," Max says, voice sad.

"I doubt it was your fault-"

"It was my brother trying to beat him to death," Max snaps and it shuts Eddie up quick. "And the only reason he was in the house, beating Steve to death, was because I couldn't follow the simple instruction of 'stay away from the window'. Steve could probably have gotten Billy to leave if I had. But I didn't listen, and Billy got in, and then he was threatening Lucas. He'd said 'you're dead, Sinclair' and then Steve had to be super lame but super cool at the same time by saying 'no, you are' and decking Billy in the face with, like, the full force of his body."

"That is a very lame thing to say."

"Right? Anyway, he was winning that fight until Billy cracked him over the head with a plate. Then it just went downhill so fast for Steve, and I was so sure I was about to watch my stepbrother murder someone. I-I don't even know what came over me, really. I'd never stood up to Billy before. I just knew I had to do something. There were these syringes filled with something that put you to sleep and I grabbed it and then I stabbed Billy with one and then threatening him with Steve's nailbat to never touch any of my friends again."

"Holy shit, Red. Metal as hell!"

She gives a small smile at that. "Well, the boys were basically useless so." She gives a shrug that suggests that sentence should have ended with what can you do?

"True. I've seen you girls in action. Scary and deadly."

Max looks down, then, back to Steve. "Alright, Steve. This is enough floor time for me. I'll yack your ears off later."

She holds Steve back out to Eddie, and he returns Steve to the place in his lap. She gathers her cane and pulls herself from the floor, calling out to see where El is, then presumably going off to find her.

"You really do have a tit-for-tat thing going on with these kids, don't ya?" Eddie chuckles, falling back into the quiet.

His mind does go back to Max and her story. Saving Steve from Billy. He's heard that story but never that part. Steve had given him a watered-down version that left out the fact Billy had threatened Lucas, and that Max had come to his rescue. He wonders if Steve even knows that part.

Had they told him? In Steve's version he's getting his ass beat, and then he's coming to in the back of Billy's car with Max at the wheel. It seems out of character for Steve to not take the time to brag about the kids.

Given the events of spring break of last year, and Max's complicated feelings towards Billy, maybe Steve does know the full story and it was left out intentionally. A thing left up to Max to tell or not, to have to relive. She's been better, doesn't bottle up the hard things anymore, even though it's not Eddie she talks to.

It's Steve.

Eddie feels a bit worse about his jealousy earlier. Of course, Max wants to spend time with Steve even if he can't talk back. He's been the stable male figure in her life for years, just like he's been for Dustin.

He looks up, really taking in the people around him. All the people that have gathered because they care about Steve. All the kids, their peers, Joyce, and Hopper, and some guy Eddie's never even heard of before named Murray.

Does Steve even know how much he means to everyone here?

He's going to ask Steve just that but Robin shouts from the dining area at the same time he opens his mouth, so he snaps his jaw shut and focuses in on that.

"Absolutely not! Those assholes dealt with StarCourt by burning it to the ground and that's it! What do you think they'll try and do to Steve!?" Robin's back is to Eddie, so he can't see her face, but he can see Nancy's, who she seems to be yelling at. Nancy looks determined.

"I'm not saying we go asking the shady government for help immediately! I just brought it up as an option for if we hit a dead end, or can't figure this out, or-" Nancy argues back, and Robin cuts her off.

"Shut up! We'll figure it out! We have before."

Nancy's face softens, looks sadder. "I know, Robin. I do. But how long do we try ourselves? How many days, weeks, months, do we just keep trying ourselves while Steve is stuck? We don't even have a starting point for fixing this, the least we can do is plan a time to ask for help."

"Nancy's right," Hopper says, even if he sounds upsetting about admitting it out loud. "We can trust Owens at least. He helped us."

"No, I'm with Freckles there. You cannot trust anyone in the government, Jim. How many times do you need to learn that lesson?" Murray says in a condescending tone (though Eddie hasn't heard any other tone from him, so maybe that's just his voice?).

Eddie finally stands from the floor. This feels like an argument he should join.

[thelittleliars]

Hoodie

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 1.3K

Summary: Someone stole your favorite hoodie.

AN: I had this cute little idea for an au. So here it is! Natasha in a hoodie is still one of my favorite looks of her.

You had been looking everywhere for your favorite hoodie for over an hour but it seemed like it disappeared from the face of the earth. The last time you saw it was a couple days ago when it laid on your desk. You were sure of it. Nothing but an old nirvana t-shirt and purple hoodie that Kate forgot was on your desk. Continue looking for your hoodie would only waste more time so you decided to visit your best friend who lived a couple blocks away.

You quickly threw on a pair of vans and a jacket, grabbed your keys and left your tiny apartment with frustration. The 10 minute walk to the Avengers Tower helped you calm down but still were super bummed that your favorite hoodie was now gone. At the Tower you had to go through security before getting on the elevator up to the lounge where your best friend Yelena was most likely chilling. Steve and Bucky were the only ones there though. 

"Hey guys!" You greeted them with a friendly smile. "Has any of you two seen Yelena?"

Bucky shook his head, which you expected since he and Yelena barely saw each other anyways. "I'm sorry, Yelena just had gone out with Kate and Peter I believe." Steve told you. You nodded sadly, thinking about if you should call her to meet up with them or not. "Natasha is in her room though." You blushed at the mention of the red head. Cap and Bucky were the only people who knew of your crush on Natasha. They constantly gave you the chance to be closer to her which was super sweet of them. You mumbled a small thanks before making your way towards her room which was a floor below. 

You were so busy with your thoughts that you forgot to knock, you busted right into her room where she was talking to someone or rather something. She talked to her phone, it looked like she was either filming herself or being in a video chat. "Ohh.." You felt the heat of guilt and embarrassment in your face. "I'm so sorry. I should have knocked first." 

She turned her head around when she heard your voice, also starting to smile at the sight of you being in her room. You returned a shy smile back to her, trying hard not to show any signs of the crush you have on her. Natasha waved you in before you could make up your mind to just leave her alone. You quickly closed the door behind you before you rushed to her side. Then you finally saw what she was doing, filming something on some app you don't recognize. "Is that TikTok?"

Natasha snorted, "It's actually Instagram."  The information of her using Instagram was new to you and also kind of surprising. "You should actually know that since you know... you have an account there." 

"Oh honey, just because I have an account doesn't mean I have the app on my phone and use it." The words just came out of you before you could even realize what you were about to say. Nat fully turned her body to you, your eyes immediately took her full form in and that's when you realized that she was wearing your clothes. She was wearing your favorite hoodie, the one you were looking for all this time. How it landed here with her was beyond you. "Like what you see?" She teased you as she caught you starring at her.

"T-that's my hoodie." She looked down her own body, then looking back up into your eyes with slight confusion. "You're wearing my favorite hoodie right now. I was looking for it all day Tasha!" 

"I'm sorry, I didn't know it was yours." She apologized. "I stole it from Yelena's room thinking it was her's or Kate's."

"Cука!" You muttered to yourself. It made perfect sense that Yelena stole it, she was the last one visiting you in your apartment a day or two days ago. 

Natasha grinned at you, she liked that you cursed her sister in their mother language. "Here let me give it back to you." She took off your hoodie in one swift motion and now stood in front of you in a bra. You were shocked that she was confident and comfortable enough to stand there so exposed. After the shock was over you tried your best not to look at her boobs, so your eyes wandered around her room. When you looked to her desk you saw her and yourself on the phone screen. That was when you realized that it was still recording, you shyly step in front of her phone to cover the camera with your back. "You're still recording." You told her with a hint of uneasiness in your voice. Her eyes suddenly became big. "Oh shit.. Y/N I'm not recording anything, I'm live on Instagram!" The panic was written all over her face. 

"Good thing you don't have many followers to tune in.. right?" You ask her cluelessly. She huffed, she would have loved your innocence about social media if it were for a different situation that didn't include exposing herself half naked to the world. 

"Detka, I'm an Avenger." She stated. You nodded, "Wow! Who would have thought!" The sarcasm and teasing was dripping from you. "So what?" Natasha sighed, she was getting tired of this situation. "Turn around and look at the upper right corner." You did as you were told to do, there in the corner was a tiny viewer count saying 50K and it kept growing by each second. Only then you realized why Natasha reacted the way she did. "How do you end this live thing??" 

Natasha noticed your now new panicked state and found it quite amusing. "You gotta.. uhm.. on the right.. wait let me just.." She stepped behind you and pressed her body into yours, hiding her half exposed body from the world. You felt her arms brushing against each side of your body, trying to navigate her way to end the livestream. With every movement she made you felt her boobs, that were pressed against your back, even more. Warmth spread through your whole body and you start to panic since you couldn't control yourself anymore. Don't say anything stupid. Don't say anything stupid. Don't say anything stupid. You constantly told yourself. 

Both of you sighed in relief when you saw that the livestream had ended. She leaned her forehead against your shoulder for a second before taking a step back and turning you around by your waist. "You could have returned my hoodie later." Natasha continued to stare at your face, only meeting your gaze from time to time. "How come you forgot that you were live?"

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, her gaze returned to yours, her green eyes looked into your y/e/c ones softly. "I got distracted." Nat admitted. You raised your left eyebrow, not getting what would distracted her that much. "By what?" "You." Your breath got caught in your throat. "M-me?"

She gave you a small shy smile and nodded. "Yes, you." Your heart beat so fast that you could heart it in your ears. It was also a reason why you could not stop stuttering. "W-w-why?" 

"Is that not obvious?" She teased you before her whole aura got serious. "You always looks so cute and you talking russian just made things worse." Holy motherfucker... NATASHA ROMANOFF FINDS ME CUTE. The two of you stood there with blushing cheeks looking all awkward and like two idiots who didn't know how to make a first step.

"I honestly don't know what to say." 

She took your hands into hers, holding them softly in between your bodies, squeezing them a bit because of her nervousness. "Would you go on a date with me?" You felt your voice slip away so you just nodded and smiled at her widely. 

[smytherines]

The wild thing about SAF is that it's a comedy spy parody musical from eight years ago, but people (including me) really have the most elaborate headcanons for these characters and are so invested in them, because they're not Good Representation for Fine Upstanding LGBTQ+ Youths, it's compelling representation for weird messy queer people.

Like I don't know if I'm expressing this well, but we're only able to have this kind of weird deep conversation about the meanings behind the gay comedy spy parody musical because these aren't sanitized characters.

One of them does absolutely nothing wrong to deserve the massively horrible thing that happens to him, gets hurt by the man he loves, gets abandoned. But he also tortures and kills people. He's canonically the villain, but he's sympathetic.

The other one is kind of an asshole- cocky, careless, jealous, petty. He fucks up big time, but he's also an ADHD himbo who is lovable in ways you can't describe. He's canonically the hero, but there's very much an "Oh, sweetie" vibe to him

And SAF succeeds at having such interesting representation because while the Big Reveal is meant to be a surprise at the end of the show, they layered it in from the opening minutes of the show.

It isn't BUT THEY'RE GAY HAHA, it's relying on our understanding of the rules of the spy genre to tell a surprisingly meaningful story. Mary Kate sings it right at the beginning- it's time to get the girl again. The reveal works because it plays against what you know, what you expect from this genre, so wonderfully.

And it also isn't Here Are Two Flawless Gays Please Do You Like Them?? It isn't PR. It isn't representation for the sake of representation. Being gay is not the only thing we know about them. And because the reveal doesn't happen until the end, it's arguably not even the most important thing we know about them.

It's just two kinda fucked up guys who might have been great together, but who lived in an era and especially worked in a profession where they had little realistic prospect of making anything work in the long term.

Who probably had a lot of shit on their shoulders from having to hide who they are their entire lives, growing up in wartime, and maybe even being neurodivergent. There's so much room to use our knowledge of the real world during this time period to flesh out these characters in a way the musical just doesn't have time to do.

And once you rewatch the show with the context of the Big Gay Reveal, it actually colors in a lot of those traits and interactions in subtle and interesting ways.

And especially knowing that this came out eight years ago, and was created by a tiny little independent theatre company, it's just... thanks, Tin Can Bros. I like your messy gays