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femmeharringrove · 4 years

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merry christmas yall have the first chapter of a fic i completely forgot about

It’s Christmas eve, and Steve hasn’t slept in at least three days but that’s fine.

It’s not, not really, but those are the two words the boy has learned to live off of: that’s fine. It’s the motto of complacency, his father said once, after hearing it on the radio. Steve was just twelve at the time and already knew then that his father’s opinion wasn’t worth shit. Steve isn’t complacent, thank you very much. If he has to label himself, he thinks chill is a better word. He’s a chill guy, he’s the most chill person he knows, and everyone loves a chill person so it’s fine.

It’s stupidly early and he’s on the stupid green sofa in his stupid big house and he feels like shit, which is a surprise to exactly no one. The living room is a mess – he should clean it, he thinks vaguely, but he doesn’t plan on making a move anytime soon. If his parents were coming home he’d do it; can’t have them knowing their son’s become a wallowing slouch as of late. But they’re not coming.

His mother called yesterday, trilling over the line in her unnaturally pitched voice about how Prague was just beautiful this time of year and she wished he could be there to see but someone had to hold the fort down and speaking of they just won’t be able to make it back for the holidays but how would he feel about driving to Cincinnati on New Year’s Eve to join them at one of his father’s business socials that would be fun right? And Steve just listened because what else could he do?

He hadn’t been expecting them, anyway. The family hadn’t celebrated Christmas together in four years.

And in those four years he’d had options. Tommy’s family was happy to have him over, he spent many a holiday with the Hagans and then he’d spent that one truly merry Christmas with the Wheelers, and it was fine, but now he’s got none of that. This year, it’s him and the big empty house and he sort of hates it but it’s fine, thanks.

Steve watches the shadows on the wall shift with the rising sun and feels some vague sense of relief; it’s easier to breathe when the sun is out. That’s what’s been bothering him, really. When he does sleep, his dreams are plagued with darkness and cold and danger, and when he wakes up it’s still darkness and he feels like he can’t breathe. Those nightmares have gotten worse, infinitely worse over time. It’s easier to avoid sleep altogether sometimes. And he has no obligations this holiday season, no parties to appear at or houses to crash, so he can afford the heavy circles under his eyes this year.

It’s fine. It has to be fine, so it is. Even if it isn’t really.

Hawkins got snow last night. Steve drags himself up from his seat and meanders to the back door, eyes gazing out over the endless white carpeting the ground outside. He used to love snow. Now anything cold makes him uncomfortable. He hates the winter, makes him think of the dark Upside Down.

Or that damned Soviet Union and their officers and their cold, cruel faces watching on as he tells them he’s not a spy.

Had that really been this year? It feels like a lifetime ago. It feels like just yesterday. He tears his eyes away from the snow and pads into the kitchen in search of something warm. Coffee? Definitely coffee. He waits in the kitchen while the dark beverage brews and since he’s here he figures he may as well get some food into his body. Steve can cook – it becomes a necessity when you spend most of your childhood devoid of parents – but he doesn’t really want to cook. Takes too much energy, and he’s not willing to put said energy into that. So he goes with toast, because you can never go wrong with toast, right? He even slathers the bread with copious amounts of butter. It’s not the most fulfilling breakfast, but he likes it well enough.

The coffee finishes brewing and Steve spills a good bit of his father’s whiskey into it before dunking three spoonfuls of sugar in and retreating back to the couch. He grabs the remote on his way over and drops himself gracelessly on the cushions before pressing a button. The screen flickers to life and he chugs half of the hot beverage, flips through channel after channel before settling on some feel-good holiday movie. He hates these movies, he really does, but if he’s lucky it might be enough to lull him to sleep for an hour or so.

Steve used to love Christmas movies. He watched families on television gather together and enjoy one another’s company, children waiting for the magic of Santa Claus while parents shared tender moments under mistletoe. It was everything a younger Steve had desired in a holiday. Even when he had his parents home for Christmas, things had been different. Their home was filled with strange adults, co-workers of his father’s and social acquaintances of his mother’s. Santa Claus never came to visit him – his parents would simply give him a gift or two gathered from their trips abroad. He used to enjoy it, but as he got older the presents got less and less interesting, less personal. He went from wishing for those perfect movie-esque holidays to resenting them. That being said, they have their appeal.

Even now Steve can’t help but get a sense of warm comfort and joy radiating from the film, a warm sensation wrapping around his chest. It’s a strange comfort to him, in spite of his bitterness. There’s something inherently warm about holidays, and yet Steve finds himself feeling cold. He wonders idly what his parents are doing now, if they’ll remember to call tomorrow. The boy sits and sips on coffee and wonders and he’s right about the movie because he ends up dozing for a little bit. He dreams of families and caroling and trees and the whole scene takes on a peaceful, golden haze. Something almost physical wounds around his body like a cat rubbing along his frame in a form of greeting. It’s the nicest dream he’s had in a long time.

Which is why, when the doorbell startles him out of his dreams, Steve feels like he’s capable of murder.

The boy is so confused at first he doesn’t realize it’s his doorbell. When the incessant ringing gets accompanied by an even more incessant knocking on the door, Steve groans. The warmth seeps away and he heaves himself up from the couch. The mug is drained of its remaining lukewarm contents before he sets it on the coffee table. Footsteps land heavy as he stomps his way to the door, yanking it open and preparing to bite off the head of whoever dared to disturb him so early on Christmas Eve of all days.

His face morphs from a snarl to a look of surprise. Dustin grins up at him, oblivious to Steve’s previous anger.

And he’s not alone, either. El is there, too, brown eyes sparkling at him, arm tucked in Max’s as they flash him identical grins. On Dustin’s other side, Will’s smile is something more timid than the rest of his co-conspirators. Steve’s shoulders drop.

“What are you dipshits doing out here?” he snaps playfully. “Not you, of course, Will.” Will’s smile widens while Dustin and the girls make faces of protests.

“Hey!” Dustin squawks indignantly. “I’m your favorite, that’s not allowed to change!”

“Oh yeah?” Steve’s hands settled on his hips. “Who rang the doorbell?” El’s hand shoots up. “Uh-huh. And who started knocking?” The younger boy shares a guilty look with Max, who kicks guiltily at the ground. Will blinks at him in innocent confusion. Steve smirks. “So, every single one of you played a role in waking me up from my nap with the exception of Will. Little Byers is now my favorite.” Max groans and Dustin makes another scandalized sound, while Will and El both try to hide their giggles. Steve feels a mix of fondness and frustration as he watches them; that seems to be his default emotion around these damned kids. Shaking his head, Steve opens the door wider. “Okay, okay, now why don’t you all come in so I can figure out what I owe this visit to?”

“No need,” El responds, her laughter dying down. That amused happiness never leaves her face, however. “Will you have dinner with us?”

“Mom and Hopper want you to join us,” Will adds. “You can help out with the tree and everything.”

“And baking and cooking and shit, because Hop and Mrs. Byers aren’t the best in the kitchen,” Max finishes, and even though Will makes a small attempt to protest he and El share a knowing shudder. Dustin bounces on his feet slightly as he looks up at the older boy.

“Plus, if you say yes I can ride back to the house with you!” He grins broadly. “Whaddya say?” Steve blinks.

What does he say?

It’s a nice idea, sure. He loves these kids, feels safe with the two adults in question, and spending the day with them promises to be interesting at the very least. But if they’re all there, he has little doubt about Nancy and Jonathan being there too, and he’s really not mad about it anymore but there’s a little bit of awkwardness lingering between the trio. And even if he did go, those lovebirds will have each other. The party has each other, Hopper has Joyce. Steve is bound to be left out eventually. He knows it’s not on purpose, of course, but he knows how this goes. How many times has it happened before? And he’s already a little bit pissy this holiday season, that truth isn’t likely to make this any more enjoyable.

But eight pairs of eyes watch him expectantly, hopeful looks etched onto their faces. Steve’s gaze shifts past them, down the driveway and he finds Hopper’s truck waiting at the end and he doesn’t have to see the man to know he’s also waiting for an answer.

He doesn’t like disappointing people. He’s chill, Steve goes with the flow as a matter of principle, and this is where the flow seems to be leading. He makes a show of sighing, theatrics making the kids smile even wider.

“I shouldn’t –“ A series of pleas and protests interrupt him and he has to work hard to keep from smiling. Damn, Steve should have run off to New York or Hollywood and becoming an actor, he’s good at this. “- Oh, alright. I guess I can come for a little while. Dustin pumps his fist into the air as the others grin widely. Dustin rushes to the Beamer and Max isn’t far behind.

“Get your keys, Harrington, let’s get moving!” he shouts. Steve can’t help but laugh.

“Hang on, you little gremlin, I gotta get real clothes on! And do my hair!” The two set on riding with him dart back over and duck under his arm into the house, and Steve waves Will and El off. “Go on, you two, don’t wait for me. Tell Hop I’ll bring the little devils with me,” he orders. Both nod eagerly before setting off back to the car. Steve sees them off before turning back into the house. Max is in the living room, face wrinkled into something resembling disgust.

“Jesus, Steve,” she says, “Do you ever clean this place?” It has gotten pretty bad over the past month or so. Steve tries not to wince at the judgement he feels radiating off of the redhead.

“Never, it’s a point of pride at this point,” he teases instead, and she makes another face, nose crinkling before she rolls her eyes and makes a snide comment about messy boys. Steve reaches over and ruffles her hair, reveling in her giggled squawk of protest. “Oh, be nice, Mayfield. It’s a holiday!” Dustin’s footsteps thud down the stairs.

“It is the holidays, so I know you got me a gift, Harrington,” he states, eyes narrowing. “Where is it?” Max perks up in interest now, spinning from the curly-haired kid to the taller boy, eyebrows arching up.

“Oh, uh, presents? Yeah, um -” Steve smiles sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. Dustin’s eyes go wide.

“You forgot?” He marches down the rest of the stairs. “I can’t believe you, Harrington! Party members are supposed to get gifts for other party members! How could you forget?”

“Steeeve,” Max whines, head falling back dramatically. “I can’t believe you!” And she shouldn’t. Neither of them should. Again, he’s sure he’s missed his calling in life with the whole acting thing. Of course he got gifts for them – tucked safely away in the trunk of his car. He doesn’t plan on outright putting his name on them, but he’s sure the kids will figure it out tomorrow morning, which ones he leaves for them.

Chuckling at their antics, Steve hops up the stairs two at a time and dives into his room. How did this become his life, dealing with more barely-pubescent teens than any nineteen-year-old should? Steve’s shower is quick, and he styles up his hair before digging out an ugly sweater his grandmother had gotten him four years ago. Back then people were convinced the boy would go through a growth spurt; he did, but he hadn’t beefed up in the way everyone anticipated. The sweater still remains baggy on his slender frame, but he wears it nonetheless. Jeans are hastily yanked on and socked feet are shoved into sneakers before he trips his way down the steps.

Max and Dustin are anxious by the door, and he grins at them as he approaches the hall closet and grabs a coat. He hears his keys jangle softly in the pocket as he pulls it over his shoulders.

“The two of you have no patience,” he teases, watching them dash out to the car. He follows at a slower pace, amusement tugging at his lips. The kids are practically buzzing with excited energy, urging him to speed up, and they clamor into the car the moment he gets it unlocked, Max beating Dustin out for the coveted shotgun position. The younger boy pouts at Steve in the rearview mirror. Steve smiles right back at him. “Don’t look at me, she won this round, buddy.” Max’s smile is smug next to him, and Dustin scowls before slumping in the backseat. Steve shakes his head. “Alright, everybody buckle – even you, slouch potato,” The kid’s sulking is immediately replaced with a displeased squawk, and Steve doesn’t bother to hide his pleased smile as he eases out of the driveway and out onto the road.

It’s an easy trip; Steve exits Loch Nora and cruises down Dearborn. From there it’s a turn onto Maple and he has Max dig out cassettes from the glove box now. Wham! sings about holidays and heartbreak as Steve drives carefully past the Sinclair home, then the Wheelers not long after. He’s sure the occupants of both homes are either not there or too busy to be peering out of curtains in search of their kids’ babysitter, but he doesn’t want to risk having them see him do anything remotely reckless, and so he adheres to the laws of the road. Once he turns onto Cornwallis Street, he relaxes, speed inching up as he goes. Dustin’s previous sour mood has all but evaporated and he talks in that loud way of his, leaning up so he can get a look at the two people upfront. Max is just as chatty, and Steve is happy to let them converse, offering small hums here and there to show he’s listening.

He’s not really listening, but he doesn’t need them knowing.

Whiskey eyes try to focus on the road as he makes another turn, this time onto Kerley. It’s been five months since Hawkins last had to fight off monsters. Five months since the mall went down in flames. Five months since the Soviets and their needles and their gate.

He has nightmares still, about the room and the faces and the pain. Sometimes Robin’s there, panicked eyes screaming at him to help. Other times he sees Dustin, the kid looking betrayed as the general smugly tells him about Steve’s slip-up in his interrogation. Some nights he has dreams that leave him feeling physically cold. Those are the dreams he can never remember – whenever he tries, his head aches in a sharp sort of way that quickly has him leaving the whole thing alone. Even now as he thinks about it a dull throb warns him against it just behind his eyes. His thoughts wander further as the Beamer rolls onto Mirkwood.

Robin thinks he needs help. She may be right. Two weeks ago he almost had a full-blown panic attack in the back room of Family Video after seeing someone who looked eerily like the so-called doctor that ended up tugging his fingernails out with horrific ease. Even Keith had been surprised, awkwardly giving him the rest of the day off. Robin, bless her soul, tried talking him down, but ultimately she just held him while he sobbed frantically. Every day after that she gave him this look and he felt like he was suffocating under the weight of her pity, the cold force of her concern, the bitterness of her remorseful anger.

He still isn’t sure how he knew she was feeling all of that so clearly. Steve’s not great at a lot of things, but he’s always had a knack for reading a room. You learned how to do that after witnessing your parents have screaming matches almost every night they actually spent the night in Hawkins; he had to decide whether the tension in the air was manageable or too electric for him to safely involve himself in. When you struggle up the social ladder of high school, you learn how to read people and earn their favor. It’s his thing, always interpreting. It’s been five months since that little quirk seemed to get more sensitive. He doesn’t exactly know how he feels about that, or if it’s a good thing at all.

Steve slowly tunes back into conversation as he turns off of Mirkwood and makes his way down a simple dirt path. From what he can tell, Dustin and Max didn’t quite miss his additions to their conversation during the drive. Easily the two chattiest people in the Party, the older teen’s convinced they could talk for a week straight, without pause, and never notice the lack of anyone else’s input. It’s impressive, if you ask Steve. Max’s electric blue eyes catch his for a moment and she grins widely. She looks for all the world like a normal girl, not like someone who’d almost lost her brother on the Fourth of July.

The Beamer finally comes to a halt. Steve laughs as the two kids scramble out of the car and rush up the driveway. He takes a moment to turn the ignition off and now he’s suddenly feeling rather hesitant.

Why did he let them talk him into this?

The boy slumps in his seat. He should go home. He should crawl onto the couch in the living room and hide under blankets the rest of the night. The kids would not be particularly pleased with him, he’s sure, but he’ll make up for it with the gifts in the trunk. But if he leaves, when is he going to have a chance to leave those gifts for them? He certainly can’t come back tomorrow, and after that he’s just going to feel bad. Up ahead, Dustin’s head tilts as he looks back at the car.

“Harrington! You coming?” Steve hesitates, waves the kid off, and as soon as Dustin turns again he drops his head against the wheel.

He really, really should leave.

The door is slammed shut with a nudge of his hip, and Steve trudges his way up the driveway. Joyce is at the door, all smiles as usual. In spite of his doubts, the boy can’t help but smile back.

“Steve! I’m so glad you came,” she greets, pulling him into a hug as soon as he gets near. Steve settles in her hold for a few brief moments before tugging away reluctantly.

“Hey, Mrs. Byers. I would have brought something with me, but -“ Joyce cuts him off, gentle hands waving about dismissively.

“Oh, none of that,” she chides, “And it’s Joyce, honey. Besides, you can still help in the kitchen.” Her smile turns almost sheepish. “Hopper and I could use an extra hand.” Both of them are stellar single parents, but Steve knows for a fact that neither can cook to save their lives. Steve’s been mastering the art since he was thirteen, he’s gotten quite good at it. He nods at the woman as he slips past her into the house and for a moment he’s overwhelmed by how homey the place looks.

Wrapping paper, string lights, and other festive odds and ends litter the floor. Hopper and Jonathan seem to be in the process of setting up the tree in a corner. A holiday record plays loudly, barely heard over the roaring chatter of the kids yelling and running around. It’s chaos, the very best kind. He’s surrounded by the inherent warmth of it all and the lingering trepidation melts away quickly as Steve lets his shoulders relax.

Eleven notices him first among the kids, and is quick to slip out of a confused Mike’s grip to greet him. Her hug is warm, and Steve holds her tight, one hand rubbing her back as he returns her embrace.

“Hey, kid,” he chuckles, ruffling her hair. Eleven beams up at him.

“You came,” she proclaims. Now Steve lets out a full laugh.

“Well, of course I did! I couldn’t just not show up. Besides, you and Will left me with the little hellions, remember?” Will comes next, shy smile creeping across his face as he tucks himself easily against Steve’s side. Steve pretends to give him a scolding look. “Had my ear talked off the whole way here thanks to you.” Will knows for a fact the older teen isn’t even remotely upset with him. The attempted glare melts into a grin and the boy relaxes, his smile growing easier as his slender arm squeezes around Steve’s waist, then retracts as he backs off. Lucas, already trapped on the ground with Max and Erica, waves in greeting. His teeth flash brilliantly in his bright grin and Steve tips an imaginary hat in his direction. Not too far off, Mike nods in his own greeting, gruff in his usual manner but maybe the holiday magic is working because there’s something unusually friendly about the gesture. Steve returns it in kind.

When Nancy makes her appearance, she falters at the sight of him and Steve’s body almost flinches with the strangeness of it all. Her eyes blink once, twice before she gives him that sad smile.

“I didn’t know you were coming.” Steve’s answering smile is painfully awkward.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t planning on coming. The kids roped me into this last-minute, you know how it is with them.” He becomes distinctly aware of Jonathan eyeing them from across the room and clears his throat.

Yeah, maybe this is a little bit of a mistake.

His escape comes in the form of Hopper, the man’s burly arm falling across his shoulders in a gruff greeting.

“Glad you decided to show up, kid. You’re the only competent chef in this house,” he jokes, but it isn’t really a joke. You’d think a couple of adults would know how to cook a decent meal – well, Joyce can cook a decent meal, but it’s just that. His smile is only slightly less awkward as he’s guided into the kitchen, tossing an odd sort of goodbye to the girl as he goes. Joyce gives him a relieved look as he enters the kitchen.

“Steve, do you think you could help me with this soup?”

He’s kept pleasantly busy after that. Between helping with Joyce’s mushroom soup, letting Dustin peel carrots for the pot roast, taking that job away after the kid hacked apart the vegetables beyond recognition, and attempting to restore some general sense of order to the lawless land of the kitchen, Steve barely has time to think about Nancy or Jonathan or the yelling all around him. He hardly pays attention to the pleasant buzz filling his body as a result of the warm atmosphere. It’s dark by the time all the food gets finished. He’s oddly proud of himself as he looks at the spread of food on the table. It’s nothing fancy, but beef and soup and biscuits on Christmas Eve isn’t a bad idea if you ask him.

He can sit at the table with the rest of the adults. There’s space, and Joyce asks him sweetly if he’d like to sit with them. Steve feels decidedly more comfortable on the living room floor with the kids, however.

And that just seems to be the bulk of his problems sometimes, doesn’t it?

Steve Harrington is almost twenty years old, and he has nearly no friends his own age. To top things off, he also has no idea what he’s doing with himself currently, his past haunts his sleep and his waking hours, and his future is all but nonexistent. He peaked in high school and his life has been in a steady decline ever since. But it’s not all bad – at least he’s got the tragic honor of babysitting the six toughest kids in all the world.

And they aren’t even kids anymore, are they? They’re creeping up on their fifteenth birthdays, all of them. Dustin’s is less than a month away already. Steve can’t believe it. They were kids just yesterday, it feels. He was a kid just yesterday, wasn’t he? Monsters have a funny way of forcing you to grow up, he supposes. And they’ve truly grown, his kids.

Eleven’s curls bounce as her head swivels back and forth to follow their conversation, smile warm and genuine as she leans against Steve’s right. Dustin’s always by his side, the little snot. He looks so happy all the time, his eyes crinkling around the edges as he talks animatedly on his left. Mike’s grown so tall, it’s crazy. Coltish legs are folded awkwardly under him as he sits by Eleven’s side. Lucas rivals Mike in height, though he looks significantly less awkward as he leans up against an engaged Max. She’s cut her hair recently; it’s not a bad look, though he knows she wants to grow it back out again. Something about her is tinged with a bitter sadness, something that makes Steve’s throat choke up in a most peculiar way. He gets it, though; Billy’s brush with death wasn’t that long ago, and she’s still struggling with her grief. But she’ll be alright, he knows. Billy’s getting better, her friends are too stubborn to allow her to struggle alone, even if Billy isn’t their favorite. And on Mike’s other side, simply enjoying the moment, sits Will. He’s grown too, but he’s kept much of his quiet mannerisms. He catches Steve’s eye and smiles a little wider, an action Steve mimics.

Sometimes, the calmer Will Byers is the one Steve claims as his favorite. In all truth, he doesn’t have a favorite.

He has different relationships with each kid, that’s all. His relationships with some are weaker than others, weaker than he liked them to be. Some of them share a bond even Steve can’t explain. But the one thing each relationship has in common is the boy’s love for each and every one of them. There’s no favoritism, even if he tells them otherwise. There’s no choosing, none of that. Each of these six kids have Steve’s whole heart.

It’s Eleven who catches him staring next, and she must see the fondness on his face because the smile she gives him is soft and tender and knowing in its own way. Eleven took to him surprisingly quick; he didn’t quite understand it yet, but he was glad the kid felt so at ease with him.

He’s dragged into the present by Dustin very suddenly collapsing against his side, snorting in laughter as Mike stares at Lucas, offense clear on his face.

“How do you not like the Beastie Boys?” he questions, and now it’s Steve’s turn to snort.

“No one likes the Beastie Boys, Mike,” he chuckles, trying to ignore the appalled look the younger teen gives him. “It’s just what you listen to when you reach the teen rebellion phase.”

“I’m not rebellious!” Mike huffs. Steve’s sure Karen Wheeler would beg to differ.

He doesn’t want to spend the night. Joyce already has her hands full with all these kids, and he doesn’t want to add on to that, so he goes out to the car once the kids have all gone to sleep in the basement and gets his sack of presents and he’s going to leave after giving them to Hopper, but Joyce stops him, a curious look on her face.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” she questions. Steve feels awkward now, shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“You’ve already got plenty of people spending the night, Mrs. By-“

“None of that,” she cuts him off with a wave of her hand. “You’ll have to come back tomorrow anyway if you leave, you’re having dinner with us.” Steve doesn’t remember agreeing to that, but now he doesn’t have a choice. Hopper, setting a gift under the tree, grunts in agreement.

“She’s right, kid,” he confirms as he stands straight again. “Can’t get out of this one, the kids won’t leave your door until you come back with them. It’ll be much easier on everyone if you just stay.”

And he doesn’t want to because this is their tradition, this is something they’ve been doing together for years as one large family and Steve isn’t really a part of that, so he wants to give them space, but Joyce is already dragging him back inside with the gifts, then she’s off grabbing blankets and Hopper busies him with the task of wrapping last-minute gifts until he forgets wanting to leave.

The couch is his for the night. Joyce gets him some of Jonathan’s clothes and even kisses his forehead and wishes him a merry Christmas before retreating to her room for the night. Hopper wishes him a good rest, and he understands because it’s already ass o’clock in the morning and it’s only a matter of time before those kids come barreling up the stairs to yell about their gifts. The living room is dark, aside from the gentle blinking of the string lights on the tree. It’s a silent night, indeed. He feels warm, and not just from the blankets tucked in close around him.

For the first time in three nights, Steve sleeps. He’s blissfully without dreams.

It lasts barely five hours.

The basement door is opened quite aggressively, and a cacophony of feet thud in before he hears a loud hushing sound, followed by the loudest whisper he’s ever heard.

“Dudes, Steve’s asleep!” one of the little shits hisses. Steve’s fairly sure it’s Dustin. He prays they turn around and go back downstairs for another hour or two.

“Shut up, he’s gonna hear you!” a girl’s voice hisses back, and she’s impossibly louder than the first kid – undeniably Max, Eleven would never whisper that loud. Jesus, who taught them how to whisper?

“Both of you shut up, let’s just get to the target,” a third, quieter voice butts in, and they’re just quiet enough that Steve can’t tell who it is, which tells him it’s either Mike or Will. He’s betting on Mike.

He knows what their target is. Steve takes a moment to contemplate. Either he lets them poke around the presents until Jim or Joyce come in and stop them, which will definitely result in loud protesting and a permanent end to his rest, or he can get up now and get a little bit of sympathy from at least Will for them waking him up. Either way, he’s awake now.

He hears someone poking at a box and goes with the latter.

“Aren’t you little shitheads supposed to wait for your parents?” he groans, eyes peering at the group blearily. All six of them freeze.

“Abort mission?” Lucas whispers to Mike.

“Abort mission,” Steve confirms before the other kid gets a chance, sitting up and stretching. Eleven treads silently over to the sofa and finds her way under his blanket to press into his side.

“Merry Christmas,” she hums, as if she has nothing to do with the early morning shenanigans that roused him. Will joins them on the sofa, and it’s clear the other four are trying to decide how to best fit themselves on the piece of furniture with their babysitter. It’s about to get very cramped, he realizes.

“Yeah, yeah, bah humbug,” he grumbles in reply, but no one misses his fond smile.

Joyce makes her appearance thirty minutes after that, and of all the things she expects to see on a Christmas morning, this was decidedly not it. None of the kids on the couch notice her upfront, too caught up in their giggles and hushed conversation. Steve looks tired, she notes, but he’s not as pale or tired-looking as he was yesterday. He may not be her kid, but she worries about him nevertheless as if he was. Shaking her head slightly, she pads further into the room.

“I hope you all didn’t wake Steve up,” she tells the younger teens as she reaches the sofa. Guilty looks are shared and a few mouths open in hopes of explaining themselves, but Steve beats them all to the punch.

“They didn’t,” he covers, smiling softly up at the woman. “I was up before these hellions tried getting into the presents.” Joyce doesn’t believe him, not for a second, but she leaves it alone as she leans down and gives Will and Eleven kisses on their forehead. Max gets one next, followed by a gentle ruffling of Mike’s hair because he gets fussy about kisses. Lucas smiles as he gets a kiss, and Dustin responds in kind. Even Steve gets a kiss, and he smiles in spite of his surprise.

“Thank you, for keeping them out of the presents,” she tells him as she straightens up and sways off towards the kitchen. He thinks about going to help her, but he looks at the kids sprawled out on the sofa with him and he just can’t bring himself to make them get up, so he stays put. They whisper back and forth about present predictions (Dustin makes a passive comment about some people forgetting to buy presents, Max makes a face at Steve and it takes serious effort to not laugh), and by the time Joyce returns with coffee the six are practically bouncing with restlessness. Their excitement is downright infectious, Steve feels their giddy joy in his bones, his stomach twisting in a good sort of anxiousness. Hopper shuffles in soon after, makes his way directly to the kitchen and gets himself a mug of coffee. He brings an extra one out for a very grateful Steve. Mike makes a face when the smell of caffeine reaches his nose. Lucas doesn’t have to smell it before he gets that disgusted look on his face.

“I can’t understand why you drink that stuff,” he states. Steve inhales the warm smell, sips on the drink (and he’s got to give the chief a thanks because it’s got just the right amount of cream and sugar – not too much, but just enough to take the edge off of the bitter taste), and pauses for added drama before forming his response.

“Lucas, my friend, let’s revisit this conversation when you hit nineteen.” He rests the mug on top of Eleven’s wild curls and revels in her giggled protest.

Outside, the sun is just beginning to poke through the darkness. Steve glances towards the window, watches the black sky turning into blue, and couldn’t help but feel that maybe, maybe, this Christmas isn’t going to be so bad after all.

In an attempt to distract the gaggle of children from the glistening presents under the tree, Steve finally nudges the kids off of him and makes his way to his feet, and he stretches out his body with a few, satisfying cracks in his spine. He’s getting old.

“Hey. You little gremlins want hot cocoa?”

They do, of course they do. And they follow him like a line of duckling behind their mother as Steve trudges into the kitchen. They sit in a row and happily sip on the warm drinks as the brunette then sets about making breakfast. Joyce rubs his shoulder and says he didn’t have to, but Steve is happy to do it, he likes making himself useful. Besides, he’s good at this, the kids love his pancakes. He even whips up scrambled eggs and slices of wonderfully crisp bacon. The smell draws a bleary-eyed Jonathan from his room. He looks surprised by Steve’s presence, but offers a small smile.

“Merry Christmas,” he offers, ruffling Will’s hair on his way by. He pours himself a cup of coffee, and Steve smiles back at him.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas to you too.”

#steebie writes #steve harrington #stranger things au #stranger things fanfiction

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smartguyreviewed · 4 years

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2x2 - Working Guy

Originial air date: September 17, 1997

Did anyone have an actual job when they were teens? I remember how embarassing it was for me, a high schooler in the mid-aughts, to tote around resumes in my little manila folder and then be told to either apply online or have some snooty white asshole at Eddie Bauer all but dismiss me because he was clearly racist. The only jobs I really “held” included being an election judge twice, once during that totally insignificant 2008 presidential race and the other being a summer camp counselor at the church I went to.

Those little jobs sucked but I chose them. The students of Piedemont High were not that lucky.

The setting for this episode is the work experience program that shows students what it’s like to have a job. I have a lot of questions. I’m sure some of these students fared better than me back then and already have jobs, so wouldn’t this make no sense? Would they have two jobs? Are all of these jobs suitable for minors? Why does Piedmont fund such strange things?

Mo, as usual, (or depending on the plot of the episode) only cares about the perks of whatever he’s doing. With the band, it’s the girls. With this program, it’s being able to leave school after lunch. Wait, what? They’re having the students skip multiple classes for this? Is this part of a class or an elective? I wonder because this seems like it takes up a lot of time.

TJ is more excited about working in the industry of his choice, but if that was the case, he’d already have a job assigned to him as opposed to having to pick what’s on the board, making it first come, first serve. This is dumb and I can’t believe I have this many questions about a fictional high school. Anyways, TJ is short so he can only grab what he can reach and it’s not what he wants at all because he has a menial blue collar job.

Meanwhile, at the crib, Floyd is pissed because his basketball buddy who is a doctor apparently has cancelled their game because he has to do surgery. Floyd is only petty every once in a while so I’ll let him have this one. Then Marcus comes in wearing a suit and even though we’ve definitely seen him dressed up before, the audience goes wild. I hate canned audience reactions! He says not to hate him because he’s wearing Armani.

I first thought Marcus was joking because it looks like a Sears original to me, but apparently he took Floyd’s credit card and had a ball buying clothes for his fancy schmancy job. Okay, I have more questions. Marcus had to buy a whole suit and shoes to enter his predominately white workspace. Is Piedmont paying for things the students need to even work at their job? What if you’re a natural black woman and you have to get your hair straightened if you have Marcus’s job? This is all for a part time job during school hours, so will these hours count towards credit since you’re not in class? I am so confused.

Floyd is surprisingly okay with Marcus running up his card because his next question is asking if he can help Floyd get ready for his game. Marcus jokes that he’s going to be drinking with the guys after work. Floyd doesn’t press further and says he’ll practice alone until Yvette offers. Marcus and Floyd have a nice kii at this because duh, Yvette’s a girl and girls don’t play basketball. I love how all the Henderson men (including Mo) are sexist in their own ways. This isn’t the first time Floyd disregards his daughter when it comes to doing “manly” things and Marcus and TJ bond over their hatred of Yvette when her feminine ways don’t align with their default male ways.

TJ comes in and doesn’t want to talk because he’s embarassed to have this job that was forced on him. Marcus adds insult to injury by informing him that he’s working at Marcus’s job.

Speaking of Marcus, this dude just doesn’t quit. He begins sexually harassing one of the women who works there, inquiring about what she does. She has to explain to him what a DVD is, immediately dating this show. Luckily, she has sense and shoots down his attempts. Sis can’t even do her job without some horny little high school boy bothering her. This program is stupid, by the way.

TJ enters, wearing his blue collar work uniform and ringing a bell. After fending off the usual “aww he’s so cute” remarks, he’s led into the office that needs the grub. The buffoons working there can’t seem to figure out whatever physics equation makes the DVDs run and of course, TJ is effortlessly able to offer a suggestion. He gets poached from this stupid temp position to help them out.

Floyd and Yvette are practicing in the garage when Marcus and Mo show up to gloat about their temporary yet important positions. Marcus has his own office. I would hate to be the person who worked there for years, sacrificed weekends, holidays and their sanity to get a promotion and their name on a door, only to watch a punk ass intern from high school get it instead. Mo is somehow working for a judge but I’m not sure for how long because this briefcase that was foolishly given to him contains a document that should have already been mailed off to William Renquist. Mo quickly dashes from that scene to deliver the mailpiece. Marcus makes an extremely dark joke that i didn’t even catch at first about someone getting the electric chair due to Mo’s carelessness. I’m sorry but I bellowed at that. However, I question how many lawsuits will be filed against Piedmont after this program is over.

TJ comes home and announces that he quit his blue collar job and is now working as a special consultant for research and development at DVD Electronic. That’s the name of the company? It’s so bland and generic that i sounds like an Amazon seller of used books and shit. Floyd is confused but TJ gets hired by a large company every other week so it’s whatever.

At work, we see TJ has his own office. Remember that person I would hate to be? They have to watch a fucking 10 year old get it instead. Maybe they did a mass firing or something because they seem to have plenty of rooms to just give to people. Of course, TJ likes the new digs. After his friendly secretary introduces him to his space, the resident hater shows up. I guess the person I was describing earlier is this white man, because man is he salty about having to share a cubicle when he started. White man is now attempting to get into TJ’s head and asks that he pitch all ideas to him first. How TJ, who is probably a psycho or sociopath didn’t see through this as a ruse for him to profit off his black ass ideas is beyond me. Or maybe TJ is faking dumb so that when he does reveal white man’s treachery, it’s more believeable?

Marcus barges in and the white man is two seconds away from calling the cops before Marcus lets him know they’re related. But white man thinks him calling TJ his brother is a “black” thing until TJ says they are related albeit with similar genetic coding. I assume this is an obvious reference to Marcus being darker than him? Funny because I just wonder if Floyd’s wife was dark or if they both have a dark skinned parents and it just so happened to manifest in Marcus and no one else? Or maybe Marcus is actually his half-son? Let me stop.

After the white man leaves, Marcus correctly assumes he is a piece of shit but TJ disagrees. He then gets a call to join a meeting. The head boss who is stationed in Zurich makes it a point to consider that TJ’s work study day ends at 5--wait, so they’re away from school for that long?--but quickly ignores that tidbit when some meeting gets pushed to 6. Of course, TJ shouldn’t be here unsupervised and out this late but we’re gonna ignore that even if the logistics of the Piedmont Work Study Program still boggle my mind.

So yeah, TJ is stuck at work and being asked about one of his ideas, the big boss says that the white man told him to filter all ideas through him. The white man is clearly displeased with TJ snitching but the boss man ends up making TJ the new head of the project. That’s how you use your privilege, even if it is child endangerment! The hating white man (whose name is Dick Ferrett by the way) comments to another coworker that TJ is toast. How dare this little black bastard be better than him?

Meanwhile, at home, Floyd is nursing an Yvette inflicted wound from when they were practicing basketball. TJ comes home acting like a middle aged adult, complaining about work and how bad traffic was. When Floyd notices how TJ is being affected by this job, he suggests that he quit. TJ whines for a little bit and Floyd relents. What the fuck Floyd, drag him by his collar and make him sit down! TJ promises to make Floyd’s game which means he won’t be able to make it because of work.

The next day, TJ is at work and discussing things with his secretary. The hating white man is just itching to fuck up TJ’s day and it shows. You might not be wondering who replaced TJ as the chow wagon boy but it turns out that it was Mo. Yes, instead of being fired from this program that he had no business being in to begin with, he was demoted to TJ’s job.

TJ is about to leave for the day when hating ass white man comes and dumps a bunch of work on TJ’s desk. See? Told you he wouldn’t be able to make Floyd’s game! Luckily, his secretary is going to film it for him.

Back at work, TJ is falling asleep trying to carry these stooges to a victory and the hating ass white man is actually calling TJ names. They even go back and forth for a moment. Floyd finally decides that enough is enough and he’s bogarted his way through security to get TJ because I’m sure it’s midnight at this point. TJ tells Floyd he must be mad that the game was missed. Floyd says he isn’t mad although the other guys’ kids showed up. Aww Flody. Parents have feelings, too.

The head white boss offers Floyd to hire TJ permanently but Floyd declines. TJ is able to get the hating ass white man fired before he leaves, in a move that is definitely petty but deserved. Fuck that guy, exploiting a gifted black child like that.

TJ is mad at Floyd according to a conversation between Yvette and himself. He thinks TJ is going to be mad at him forever but he comes downstairs and asks to play dominos with him. Aww. This is quickly ruined as per the usual. We all know TJ only abruptly forgives and forgets when he has an ulterior motive. This time, he’s going behind Floyd’s back to keep working with DVD Electronics. Floyd comes in during a session. I’m assuming he got his ass whooped after this but we just fade to black before an arms-folded Floyd can dole out any punishment. Eh, guess we’ll find out in the next episode. Ha. No we won’t.

Stuff I noticed:

- DVD Electronics video chat has a pretty stellar, crisp quality for 90s internet.

- Mo rewore this shirt from a prior episode. I really like when characters rewear clothes. It’s much more realistic than characters who seem to always have money for new outfits no matter how broke they claim to be.

- When TJ is bringing in the food, there’s an audience member who yells “You go, girl!” I have heard this woman in the audience of a Boy Meets World episode and another show that I can’t recall, but further proves that canned laughter is creepy and needs to be banned everywhere.

#tahj mowry #smart guy #marcus henderson #tj henderson #mo tibbs #omar gooding #90s #nineties #john marshall jones #floyd henderson #essence atkins #yvette henderson

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alamble23 · 6 years

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Re-watching The Kennedy Curse:

Previouslies:

OMG YOU GUYS, HOW MANY TIMES ARE WE GOING TO BE TORTURED BY HAVING TO RE-WATCH LUCY AND WYATT KISS IN HOLLYWOODLAND? This is so painful, yo.

I kind of appreciate that the show doesn’t specifically indicate who our young target is at first, though it’s not hard to guess if you’re paying enough attention.

Lucy and Jiya. LUCY AND JIYA. These two do not get enough scenes together.

“I’m sure Wyatt and Flynn have it under control.” LOL, no.

“What about what you want?” “We’re still friends, we have the missions. I’ll be fine.” LIES. ALL LIES, LUCY PRESTON.

This conversation between Lucy and Jess is so awkward. High school sweethearts, and in counseling for TWO YEARS? I mean, Jess had to have know what she was getting into when she married “her” version of Wyatt, and she’s stuck it out that long? I question her judgment a little bit at this point.

FYI, Wyatt’s outfit isn’t quite the same as what he was wearing in Hollywoodland - the pants are different, the sportcoat’s new, but I think that’s the same shirt and sweater.

Rufus and Wyatt all panicky upon their return is pretty damn funny. Lucy is like the American Express card: DON’T LEAVE HOME WITHOUT HER.

Christopher: “You left [Flynn] there?!” Wyatt: “We’re gonna go back and pick him up!”

Wyatt and Rufus being very nonchalant about retrieving Flynn when they go back to ‘34 is very in character.

This cover story is pretty decent, considering the circumstances.

#AwkwardFlirtAlert: Of all the freakin’ topics he could have picked, Wyatt has to go with JFK’s numerous affairs to kick off the conversation? OH HONEY, NO. JUST NO.

Concurrently, Lucy, is this really the type of behavior you want Wyatt to be emulating? JFK was charming and charismatic, but he was a deeply flawed man who by most accounts was a terrible husband in a number of ways. Let’s not encourage similar behavior from Wyatt.

Basically, this entire conversation in the bunker hallway made me do a Picard facepalm.

Lucy and Denise. LUCY AND DENISE. Another conversation that is wholly overdue.

The sandwich Lucy made actually didn’t look that bad.

“Well, she’s a teacher, right?” Jessica’s inflection on the word teacher gets everybody’s hackles up. Also, Lucy at least probably has the clearance level to do something like this, which Jessica assuredly does not.

“I’m having a rather strange day.” - JFK, totally understating the situation.

Rufus, Jiya and Mason batting around the logic of causality loops is about the most sci-fi this show has gotten in a while.

Why would they want to keep a low profile, Jessica? I dunno, maybe because they have a TIME TRAVELING MACHINE THAT BAD GUYS STOLE AT ONE POINT? I get that this timeline is kinda compressed (I’m assuming it’s been a couple of days,maybe a week, max, since they got back from Hollywood and Jess got dragged into the bunker) but surely Wyatt has explained some of this to her?

I looked up Risperidone, out of curiosity - it’s commonly used to treat bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. Do with that what you will.

Grant Jordan is just SO charming as Young Jack. “What’s wrong with my suit? This is a nice suit!” Yes it is, young fella. You look very dapper.

JFK’s medical issues - aside from his fairly well-known back problems - were never really definitively diagnosed, but it’s likely he had IBS in some form or fashion, and having a very good friend who suffers from Crohn’s Disease, that is no joke.

Have I mentioned lately how much I HATE Nicholas and Emma? SEETHING HATRED

Agent Christopher getting taken: DID NOT SEE THAT COMING. Also, Sakina Jaffrey liked one of my tweets last night, which was super-cool.

“This is like getting stoned to death with popcorn.” Interesting analogy there, Connor.

This conversation between Rufus and Jiya .... oh, geez. I don’t know if I have the brain space to address this right now. I mumbled about it on twitter last night. Maybe I can corral my thoughts better later. Just know that I appreciated the fact that this dialogue existed in this episode at all.

Carol is truly getting desperate to have this conversation with Christopher.

“If you think that’s going to work, then you don’t know your daughter at all.” YOU TELL HER, MAMA BEAR.

Jack and Kayla are actually really sweet together. Props once again to the casting department!

This fight scene between Wyatt and Emma is BRUTAL .First question: where did Emma learn her moves? Is she ex-military and I’ve just forgotten? Per Lana Cho, who wrote this episode, that sequence took almost 8 hours to film and that was ALL Matt and Annie, no stunt doubles.

And Emma pretty much confirms that she’s responsible for Jessica’s resurrection. Still a stone-cold bitca.

To shoot, or not to shoot: this isn’t quite the same scenario as in the Pilot, when Flynn has Lucy. Emma is very careful to position herself such that Wyatt’s only option, if he is to pull the trigger, is a head shot, which he is unlikely to take because it’s a low-percentage play.

Lucy, picking up Wyatt’s visual cues. Love it! Also, her bitching at the security guard is totally a wifey move. Notice Jessica is DEAD SILENT. the entire time. She knows what’s what.

“It’s not like he was faithful to me before, I don’t know why he’d be faithful to me now.” JESSICA, WHAT? WHAT IN THE ACTUAL HELL WERE YOU DOING WITH THIS CLEARLY TERRIBLE VERSION OF WYATT?

Incidentally, she said it so off-handedly that I wonder if it happened before they were married. But still.

“Tell him I said bye?” She seriously wasn’t even going to tell him to his face? Cold.

A lot has already been said about Lucy’s speech, and I don’t have too much to add, other than to reiterate my thoughts from Twitter last night: Lucy deserves better than to be the default choice. Letting Jess walk away would have been a mistake.

That being said, she toes the line between selflessness and being self-sacrificing a little too closely for my taste.

Agent Christopher being microchipped explains how they’re going to raid the Rittenhouse bunker next week.

Fun fact: JFK named Robert Frost Poet Laureate during his term as POTUS, and Frost read a poem at his inaugration.

Ohhhhhhhh, this is bad, THIS IS VERY BAD. Don’t give JFK the iPad, Kayla!

Props again to both of these actors. They are so good.

I would love to know how Denise explains that MAJOR SHINER to her children.

House parties, blech.

TEXT, LUCY. No one can hear cell phones with the music that loud.

Emma is the absolute LAST person you should be asking for help, Jack.

Kayla and her brother are going to have a VERY tough time explaining those bullet holes in the walls when their parents get back tomorrow.

“Was I a good President?” “One of the greatest.” *sob*

“If you were my daughter, I’d be so proud.” *double sob*

These last two minutes are a full-on callback to 1x09, The Last Ride of Bonnie and Clyde, and that is totally deliberate, friends. Possibilities have turned into reality, and no matter how hard they try, Wyatt and Lucy can’t put that genie back in the bottle.

Until next week ......

#nbc timeless #S2x05: The Kennedy Curse #re-watch #wyatt logan #lucy preston #Rufus Carlin #jiya marri #Denise Christopher #connor mason #jessica logan #lyatt

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skriaki · 5 years

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A Hat In Time REVIEW - "Unbelievably charming"

PLEASE NOTE: This game has very little story to spoil but I will be talking about the entire adventure, so consider yourself warned

RELEASED: 2017

FORMATS: PC, Mac, PS4, Xbone, Switch (review based on PC and Switch)

I debated long and hard how best to open this review, and in the end I decided that nothing introduces A Hat In Time better than its astonishing soundtrack. Though I’d been aware of the game since before it released, I never actively sought it out until I happened to watch the launch trailer. Not only is the kaleidoscope of levels and characters eye-catching, what stood out as truly special was Pascal Michael Stiefel’s music. The trailer features the game’s main theme, which is striking, energetic and playful, easily one of my favourite videogame themes of this generation, and a perfect encapsulation of everything A Hat In Time is about.

At the risk of spoiling the end of this review, I usually find that the hardest games to critique are the ones I love most. A review of a bad game almost writes itself, because all I have to do is point out the wonky mechanics, or boring story, or the fact that one or more of the developers are bigoted pieces of shit (ION FURY), or whatever. But when I try to sum up my opinion on an excellent game, it’s hard for me to maintain some level of objectivity. So I guess we should all go into this on the understanding that I freaking adore A Hat In Time.

As mentioned, what strikes you first is the sheer, weaponised cuteness that A Hat In Time wields like a sharpened umbrella. I think Nitro Rad put it best when he said the game was just unbelievably charming. How many soundtracks outside of Star Trek prominently feature theremins? Other than a tiny smidgen of slowdown in the larger areas (even on my reasonably beastly PC), ON SCREEN NOTE: THE SWITCH VERSION IS LOCKED TO 30FPS BUT I LOVE THE PORTABILITY it’s an explosion of visual and audio polish that would be impressive from a bigger studio, let alone a developer which originally relied on volunteers. From the moment Hat Kid wakes up in her time-travelling spaceship only to soon find herself stranded on a weird planet populated by surreal characters, the expectations have been set sky-high.

But this tiny quibble didn’t distract me for long, because the opening Mafia Town chapter gives you a bright and colourful seaside town to get lost in, with highlights including a sequence where you pretend to be a ghost and chase a terrified henchman, and an operatic 2D showdown against the mafia boss. I actually think Mafia Town might be the game’s weakest chapter overall, but that’s like being the worst port of Metal Gear Solid 3: still pretty fucking good. Afterwards comes Dead Bird Studio, where you have to help two rival directors film stunts to earn a prestigious award, with particular praise going to the hilarious murder mystery on a train. It’s very neat that the winning director is decided by how many collectables you gather in their respective levels. Then comes the game’s darkest sequence in Subcon Forest, which starts with Hat Kid literally selling her soul to a melodramatic demon who’s probably the standout performance in an entertaining voice cast. One of his levels is a startlingly spooky manor which honestly might be too scary for younger players. Although no game will ever be as scary as that one bit in Banjo-Kazooie (shark clip). Next, however, you get a relaxing change of pace with Alpine Skyline, which subverts the established level structure with a more open-ended village hub which made me think of the original Jak and Daxter. At this point you’ll have most of the hats, which makes it easier to scoop up enough time pieces to unlock the final chapter, which is a single level consisting of some fiendish platforming and a suitably spectacular boss. While the narrative’s sudden attempt to tie unrelated characters together during this last sequence feels a bit forced, I eventually warmed to it as a "look at all the friends we've made along the way" affair. Plus the chapter itself is undeniably climactic, and I couldn’t help get a little emotional when that phenomenal trailer music which I refuse to shut up about kicked in during the credits.

The Gears For Breakfast team have cited 6th-generation 3D platformers like Mario Sunshine and Psychonauts as their main inspiration, which is when 3D games arguably hit their stride, and their game flaunts those influences with pride without being afraid to forge its own identity. Hat Kid is not only adorably cheeky, with an expressive face that reminds me of Wind Waker, she can also jump, dive and walk on tightropes so that the platforming feels precise and forgiving, and she quickly picks up an arsenal of hats which grant various powers. This is one of those collectathons where I suggest speeding through most levels before coming back later with all the abilities unlocked, because some macguffins can seem tantalisingly just out of reach, but won’t actually be accessible without certain hats. All the powers are great, though, and see frequent use, from straightforward ones like the hat that makes you run faster to the one that lets you jump on ghost-blocks. They complement Hat Kid’s default moveset really well and getting a new hat always feels like a big moment. There are also badges, which grant similarly useful upgrades, but you can only equip a few at a time. This is one minor gripe I have: swapping between hats makes sense, because using them all at once would break the game, but some of the badges (such as one that lets you climb walls after a dive) just feel like basic features which make the game worse if you don’t equip them. Limiting how many badges I can use at once just adds a bit of unnecessary faffing about in the pause screen. Pro tip: buy the “no bonk” badge from the creepy merchant straight away and never look back.

From start to finish, I genuinely struggled to find meaningful problems with A Hat In Time. I could have forgiven a lot of problems for the fun and inventive situations the game threw at me, but I never had to. Instead I have to say I found myself wondering when a game had last struck me as being filled with so many little surprises and unnecessary extra touches, including an entire co-op mode that’s apparently a bit buggy but awesome nonetheless. Hat Kid mainly communicates through one-word sentences but stands out in a sea of platformer protagonists because of the obvious love that went into her animation and soundwork, and the game as a whole has an amazingly strong aesthetic. I was genuinely upset to find that the Hat Kid plush toys are currently out of stock. There’s not much of an overarching plot but each chapter tells its own story and feels distinct, and there isn’t any filler content even though you only need 25 out of 40 time pieces to reach the ending. This is definitely more forgiving than Yooka-Laylee, which has yet to let me fight the final boss. A Hat In Time has at least a few challenging sequences for completionists to endure, including a badge that makes you die in one hit if you hate yourself that much, but crucially that stuff is optional if you just want to have an adorable adventure without too much swearing.

I’ve tried very hard in this review not to come across as overly gushing, because no game is perfect and I definitely have a soft spot for ambitious indie projects. As someone who only really heard about the game once it was out, though, A Hat In Time snuck up on me with how impressive it is as a crowdfunded game. Despite the many obstacles described in interviews, Gears For Breakfast delivered a platformer which I honestly hope Nintendo takes a few notes from, given that Mario has had a bit of a monopoly on 3D platformers ever since the genre went out of vogue. Super Mario Odyssey represents the peak of what a big-budget 3D platformer can do, but A Hat In Time is undeniably impressive as a smaller project and I honestly prefer it in a lot of ways, not least of all because it packs so much charm into a small package and introduces the world to an lovable new platformer mascot. Even if Yooka-Laylee disappointed a lot of people, it’s still really cool to see games like A Hat In Time and Snake Pass giving Nintendo some competition again. After years of 8 and 16-bit indie games, there now seems to be a growing nostalgia for games from the early days of 3D, and as someone who grew up around that time, the prospect of new games that revive and improve ideas from that era is obviously thrilling.

Hyperbole aside, probably the greatest compliment I can give A Hat In Time is that it lives up to the standard of quality set by that theme music: beautiful, original and unrelentingly exciting.

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foundcarcosa · 7 years

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cciv.

1. Predict what your life will look like a year from now. >> I doubt there will be much different about my life in August of 2018. Sparrow will undoubtedly have settled into a more permanent place of employment, so our quality of life may have shifted (in the financial sense), hopefully for the better. We’ll probably still be living here, so no major changes to my worldstate are predicted. Anything else, I can’t possibly predict with any confidence.

2. What is the nicest compliment you’ve ever been given? >> All compliments are good compliments.

3. What makes someone a best friend? >> I don’t have an answer for that. It varies from person to person, anyway. I get soulmate and best friend and life partner and the rest of those superlative hierarchical terms all confused, to be honest. --In which case, Can Calah fits all of them by default.

4. Are you young at heart, or an old soul? >> I have always existed in a state of temporal liminality, making all age-related terms erroneous.

5. How is your blog a reflection of yourself? What do you think people assume or know about you by looking at your blog? >> It’s a reflection of myself because I strictly curate things that appeal to me personally. I have dedicated this space to myself, to the expression of the innumerable facets of my being and their intersections, and it has performed ably in that capacity. And it’s funny you should ask that, because about an hour ago someone I know informed me that they tried to give someone they know a description of my blog and this is what they came up with: “I honestly don't fucking know, they either are God (tm) or wanna fuck God(tm) and probably would foursome The Diety of their choosing, Idris and Matthew Macone-whatever in the Matrix just for the aesthetic and the #thirst tag.” So I imagine that’s largely the impression I give.

6. Make a five song playlist that sums you up as a person. >> Death is the Road to Awe, Clint Mansell (from the soundtrack to The Fountain); Gethsemane, Vanden Plas (a cover of the Jesus Christ Superstar song); Starboy, The Weeknd; Break On Through (To the Other Side), The Doors; Blazing Star, Dethklok. There are a lot of songs that could contribute to a comprehensive profile of me as an [infinite singularity of] individual[s], considering I’ve been looking for myself in songs since I knew how to look, but you asked for five, so.

7. Do you have a Facebook? >> Yes. You’re welcome to add me on it. It’s largely stupid memes and me complaining about the most random shit.

8. What’s the most annoying thing about the person you like? >> Which one? (What kind of ‘like’? Be more specific.)

9. You ordered pizza last night, and have been looking forward to eating the leftovers all day. You go home and the box is still in the fridge, but someone has eaten all of it and it’s empty. What do you do? >> That’s impossible. First of all, Sparrow doesn’t even like the same kind of pizza I do. Second of all, she’s scatterbrained all right, but I am going to give her the benefit of the doubt that she wouldn’t leave an entire empty pizza box in our small-ass fridge. Try again.

10. What’s an inanimate object in your house that holds significance for you, and why do you find it so significant? >> The empty bottle of Baron Samedi Rum that sits on my desk holds significance for me (obviously, seeing as I never keep things that have no clear purpose, like empty liquor bottles). I bought it in New Orleans and it reminds me of O’Dim. It is perfect. (I’ll get rid of it when we finally move. After all, I won’t need these fragile pieces of home once I’m actually there.)

11. How do you look right now? >> Like a snack. (How am I supposed to answer this???)

12. What is one of your bad habits? >> Drinking, I suppose.

13. What were you doing at eleven last night? >> I think I was on tumblr, or some other part of the internet.

14. Are you sure that you were born in the right era? >> Does it matter?

15. You know at least one person named Michael. Tell me about him. >> He’s married to Sparrow’s sister, he studied film, he likes sour beer, and he used to be a skater. I don’t know much about him personally, it’s mostly just factoids that don’t knit together into a full picture very well.

16. You’ve got the TV on, but you’re not really watching. What channel is the TV on? >> I don’t do that. Sparrow is more likely to do that, and it’d probably be some HGTV show on Hulu.

17. What’s an inside joke you share with your friends? >> The first thing that popped into my head was #sunfuckers incorporated, honestly.

18. Name a song that never fails to make you happy. >> No song is 100% successful at that, obviously, but Blood Red Summer by Coheed and Cambria has a strong track record. Very bright, very vibrant, probably about something either horrific or sad (deceptively fun-sounding songs about interstellar war and sundered family dynamics and lost/broken love -- all amindst vague cosmic horror -- is kind of their thing, after all).

19. If you had to diagnose yourself with any mental illness, which would it be? >> ASD is my self-diagnosis.

20. Would you like to reconnect with any friends that you’ve lost contact with? >> I wouldn’t be opposed to it.

21. Name at least three things you could stand to cut out of your life. >> Whatever it is, I probably won’t be cutting it out of my life any time soon, so there’s no point in even pretending otherwise.

22. What is “normal”? Are you normal? >> I assume that the most practical working definition for ‘normal’ is ‘consistently compatible and compliant with the beliefs, morals, and behaviour systems of one’s society’ -- if so, I feign ‘normal’ with varying success. Mostly I am content with being a quiet but adamant outlier.

23. Biggest turn ons? >> Expansive and adaptable consciousness. Abnormally high levels of curiosity and mirth. At least two (2) tentacular appendages.

24. Do you practice what you preach? >> What I preach is usually integral to my being, so I can’t help but practice it. What I parrot is often a different story. (Parroting, I’ve found, is useful in the successful maintenance of a person suit. I don’t parrot much here, so don’t worry. It’s mostly for the benefit of people less fortunate in the cognition and analysis department who unfortunately have the ability to make my outlier life difficult.)

25. Would you prefer to live in a city, the suburbs, the countryside, or the mountains? >> I’d prefer to live in the Garden District of New Orleans.

26. Give me the story of your life in six words. >> It is without beginning or end.

27. Would you rather be alone doing something you enjoy, or doing something you don’t like with your best friends? >> I will always choose to be alone doing something I enjoy. Additionally, anyone who considers themselves a friend of mine would prefer I not do something I don’t enjoy simply for the sake of keeping them company.

28. Tell me something you think would surprise people. >> As a child, I was deathly afraid of thunderstorms. (My theories on this vary. Either way, my fear completely disappeared without fanfare sometime in adolescence; there is a memory I hold of being 13 and watching a summer storm in North Carolina with avid fascination, and suddenly thinking, Wait, aren’t I supposed to be afraid of this?)

29. Is your current hair colour your natural hair colour? >> Yes.

30. Why is your favourite band your favourite? >> My favourites are my favourites because they express things I keenly recognise and often do not have words for.

31. Name something that you miss. >> Her.

32. Share five goals that you want completed in the next thirty days. >> Um... I’d like to finish at least two more Loremaster sub-achievements on WoW, get my Norn up to at least lvl50 on GW2, watch the rest of Queen Sugar, finally nut up and watch Moonlight, and get my end of the Reddit/SyFy Gift Exchange done.

33. What do you do when you can’t sleep? >> Read, usually. Or watch some episodes of an Adult Swim show (or something equally low-commitment).

34. If you were told you were going to have three daughters, what would you want to name them? >> Whatever names come to me when I am holding them, or whatever names Sparrow wants to give them. What I hate is that you have to name them then and there -- I prefer the ritual of naming to be closer to toddlerhood.

35. How do you feel when someone says something mean/disrespectful towards your favourite band/musician? >> I don’t feel anything, usually. Being a Creed fan as a teenager has given me a blessedly thick skin towards that sort of thing, trust me.

36. What’s the funniest film you’ve ever seen? >> I really liked Life (the Eddie Murphy and Martin Lawrence flick), Caddyshack (it’s so fucking weird in that older-film sort of way but I lost my shit at so many scenes that I have to give it its due), and The Secret Life of Pets (I guess I’m the perfect demographic for that kind of ridiculousness). Oh, and Kung Fu Hustle. I know there are a few others but I forget them now. Comedy movies that really amuse me are almost harder for me to find than horror movies that don’t make me roll my eyes out of my head.

37. What’s your favourite children’s TV show/movie? >> My favourite children’s movies are The Pagemaster and The Prince of Egypt. The Neverending Story gets honourable mention just for being so damn iconic. My favourite children’s programming is The Amazing World of Gumball, Steven Universe, and some stuff I’m probably forgetting but trying to dig around in the pile of countless forms of media I’ve consumed over time in order to answer these questions is really not how I want to spend my night.

38. What do you do when you can’t sleep and you don’t have your phone? >> Why wouldn’t I have my phone, though...? I guess I’d get up and do something else.

39. What is your purpose in life? >> Whatever it is, I assume I’m fulfilling it.

40. What’s one thing you cannot live without? >> Aside from the “duh” answers, I will say mental stimulation and variety. I couldn’t live in solitary confinement with absolutely nothing to do, I’d probably lose it faster than the average (if I don’t figure out a way to kill myself).

41. Put the seven deadly sins in order of the one you commit the most to the least. >> Superbia, Acedia, Gula, Avaritia, Luxuria, Ira, Invidia.

42. What’s something that’s on your bucket list? >> Skydiving. Natch.

43. Have you ever been told you look like a famous person? If so, who? >> The only two famous people I’ve ever been compared to (to my face) are Grace Jones and Harold Perrineau.

44. Can you cook? If so, what are your favourite dishes to make? >> I can cook well enough not to starve. I haven’t gotten to a point where I enjoy cooking, though. Maybe one day.

45. What was the last decision you regretted making? >> Meh.

46. Whose opinion of yourself do you value the most? >> Can Calah’s. Sparrow’s, as far as corporeal human beings are concerned.

47. Anything that makes you angry? >> There is nothing that is consistently guaranteed to make me angry. I usually experience anger as a cumulative “last straw” kind of thing. Which can make it seem “out of the blue” to others, I realise. But at least it’s infrequent.

48. Age you get mistaken for? >> Anything from late teens to early twenties, appearance-wise. Online, anything from late teens to... mid thirties, I think.

49. When was the last time you paid for music? >> I think the last album I bought was The Buttress’ Behind Every Great Man.

50. Night or day? >> Both, please. And the spaces in between.

#surveysofsamedi

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