#it felt like a love letter to both dnd and movies

[onceuponaroast]

Alright so I just want everyone to know I saw the new DnD movie last night and it SLAPPED

It was so funny, the characters were well written, and it had some beautiful practical effects. I know enough about DnD to understand some of the in-jokes and nuances, but background info isn't necessary to enjoy it. Also the costumes and set design were gorgeous.

I went in expected some Marvel overly CGI'd quipfest but was so pleasantly blown away by an absolute masterpiece. It was so FUN!

I cannot recommend this movie enough, especially if you enjoy DnD or just like watching actors having so much fun. 10000/10

[mllx-anazra]

tis the damn season (part.1) 

Here is the Taylor Swift-inspired reader insert fanfiction to hopefully tame the brain rot Eddie Munson has induced since Vol.1 (also posted on Ao3).

TW: smut in later chapters so minors DNI, talk of therapy and trauma in later chapters, Eddie Munson is pinning, so is the reader, mentions of asshole rockstar boyfriends, drugs (the old devil's lettuce), explicit references, reader is a Henderson to make my no Y/N rule easier but is a cousin so hopefully it's ""inclusive"" enough?

Part 1: And it always leads to you, and my hometown 

"Jesus, man, can you drive any slower? We're late already!" Dustin pestered for what felt like the hundredth time in the short time he, Wheeler, and Sinclair pretty much begged Eddie to drive them to the other side of town to help you move in. 

            His curiosity got the better of him, and he not only adjourned the DnD meeting of today but agreed to drop the freshmen on your doorstep, hoping to understand why the hell you were back in Hawkins two years after your graduation. 

            The golden child, all straight A's, bouncy hair and toothy grins, bedazzled acoustic guitar, and the flare of the next Stevie Nicks, had made it out of bumfuck Indiana through a contract with a fancy Californian label, like some kind of modern fairytale. And yet, as the fall of 85 was settling slowly and surely in this small town, Eddie grew to see as his personal hell, you were coming back, settling back in your parents' small old house not too far from the trailer park, for no understandable reason.

            "Remind me again why the fuck is your cousin settling here again?" the metalhead glanced at his rear mirror, catching Dustin's impatient gaze. 

            "I don't know, something about a job and taking a break from the label or some shit. C'mon, man, it's the SEVENTH red light we have gotten in the past five minutes; for the love of CHRIST, could you speed up!!"

            "Calm the fuck down, Henderson and get a grip, jeez; little miss sunshine can wait five minutes for us to move her couch or whatever."

            "Steve is probably there already!" the teen whined. "I wanted to be the first to see her!". 

            At the mention of Steve "The Hair" Harrington, Eddie felt a pang in his belly, immediately remembering the chaste kiss he had seen you exchange with the King of Hawkins during your sophomore year winter dance on Toto, where he had been dying to ask you out. He mentally scoffed at the memory; pretty girls like you frenched and held hands with pretty boys like Harrington, while guys like him, well… Were at best dirty little secrets. 

Which is whatever the fuck you could call the first, and in your case last, senior year, you spent in dark corners branding him with scalding lips that tasted like cherry chapstick. After a too-drunk encounter at a Halloween party in 1983, where you had sloppily told him, "Today we're all allowed to be freaks, Munson," and kissed him like there was no tomorrow, you had both sought each other out for the months until your graduation. Official tutoring lessons where you'd wear the shortest preppiest skirts to drive him crazy and jam sessions to "exchange creative ideas" were just excuses to fool around like the horny teenagers you had been. And God, if you were not one little devil behind all your good girl skit. Eddie fought to not get too lost in the raunchiest memory of your skin against his, lips nipping and kissing every crevice of each other's bodies in his van, your car, his trailer, your childhood bedroom, the school's bleachers, empty English classrooms and study halls at the library, Lovers' Lake shores, the movies…

            How the hell was he supposed to make small talk with you after two years without so much as a call or letter? Oh, the cruel torture of politeness with a woman who rocked his world and that he still had trouble shaking off, dropping your cousin and his friends at your door when the only thing he wanted was to drop was his knees and see for himself if you tasted like he remembered. 

            "Turn left on that corner!" supplied Dustin, after five minutes of bickering with Mike and Lucas about the following steps to best approach the brutal campaign Eddie had set up for them. 

            "I know where the house is, deep shit."

            "How?" pressed Wheeler, eyebrows furrowed. Fuck, pestering reporter genes might run in the family. Nancy had provided the same inquisitive tone after Eddie had agreed to drive the kids rather than her at the school parking lot thirty minutes ago. 

            "Because the trailer park is really close to this neighborhood, and I've lived on this hellhole my entire life?" the mere fact he had to justify himself made him pissed off. 

            "There, there, stop the car!!" Dustin excitedly screamed, unfastening his seatbelt and bolting out of the van to jog his way to your front stairs. 

And there you were, dropping the box you were holding to immediately hug your cousin, gushing over his growth, matching dimples on both of your faces. 

            Were you a sight for sore eyes, all long summer dress and silky shawl, skin radiant and smile beaming, sunglasses pushed back on your forehead, and bracelet clicking as you embraced Lucas and Mike once Dustin had let you go. 

Psyching himself up, Eddie summoned his coolest demeanor as he locked the van and strutted towards your porch. Your look of initial confusion morphed to a wide grin, almost feral, making him weak in the knees. 

            "Do my eyes deceive me, or is this you, Munson?" amusement laced your voice, making his heart jackhammer in his ribcage. Same timber, warmth, and spice characterizing your voice after all this time. 

            "All metal and denim, sunshine." God, he hated how easily the nickname rolled off his tongue, electing strange looks amongst the boys and a glint in your eyes he had thought of so often. 

Before you could quip further or embrace him (fuck did you still use the same perfume and conditioner, he needed to know), Steve fucking Harrington interrupted your reunion:

            "Now that you cruds are finally here, come help us set the couch, it's super heavy. Oh, hey, Munson."

He was still wearing his Family Video vest, literally having come here from his workplace to help you settle, Eddie interpreting this as an eagerness that immediately gritted his nerves. It was no secret that Steve had chased you before he set his sights on Nancy and did not shy away from what could be qualified as grand romantic gestures to win you over. 

            "Jeez, Steve, let them grab a drink first it's so freaking warm today. C'mon in, there is a lemonade cooling in the kitchen, help yourselves. You know the house!"

The teens skited towards the entrance of your modest but coquettish home, Eddie leisurely strolling up the stairs to meet you on the last step. 

            "Long time no see, Henderson. Looking good." Smooth, Munson, keep it smooth. 

            "You tell me, Eddie." A shiver ran up his spine at the way your plump lips curled around the syllables of his name. "Are you converting my kids to your satanic cult through the impenetrable ways of DnD?"

He smiled at your teasing. 

            "They say it's better to get them young when they're more influenceable."

You chuckled, a side smirk still firmly planted on your face. 

            "Well, be my guest, Dungeon Master (his knees buckling again); I have a beer in the cooler if you prefer."

            "Hey, why does he get beer and I don't?" Steve indignantly called out, apparently shamelessly eavesdropping on your conversation.  

            "Because, unlike you, he is turning 21, and you're supposed to be a role model for the kids or something", you retorted, slightly exasperated. 

The guffaws the boys made at the implication were enough to bring a delicate warmth to your gaze as you guided Eddie through your corridor towards your kitchen. Fleetwood Mac was blasting in the living room, and his fingers couldn't help but tap in rhythm, reminiscing how you would let it play in the background of your study make-out sessions. 

He followed and pretended to look at your walls interestingly as if he had not slammed you there several times while driving you back home after school. 

"Cool house, Henderson." He supplied, prompting you to look back at him, eyebrow raised, as if your mind had joined his. 

The boys were gathered around your small kitchen island (another fun memory), sipping on your lemonade as you fetched too cooled beers in your ice box. Steve's grumbling only intensified when he figured out the second can was for your sake and not his, prompting you to bonk his head with it. 

Eddie tried not to envy the easiness with which Steve and you seemed to interact, probably already caught up with each other's lives as it was.  

            "So," Lucas started after a very loud sip, "what brings you back to Hawkins after this time?"

            "Seeing my favorite people on Earth is not a good reason enough, Sinclair?" you said while leaning on the counter, hands joined. Eddie thought he recognized a glint on one of your fingers. Did you keep… 

            The unimpressed looks on your audience made you fake gasp loudly. 

            "Fine, FINE!" you huffed. You mulled over your response for a second, eyes adrift. "I was in the studio when I heard about the Starcourt fire. I was so scared that something might have happened to any of you… I don't know; it freaked me out. So many weird things have happened in Hawkins these past few years I feel like…."

            Fiddling with your rings, including the one Eddie gifted you after your marveled at his a few weeks before you left, you didn't register the looks the kids and Steve exchanged. 

            "Also, I need field experience for my college credits, and Hawkins High has been looking for a part-time librarian and teaching assistant since Mrs. Sinema retired."

            "Why the hell you're going to college for? You work", Mike said, disdain clear in his voice. Damn, did Wheeler know damn well how to be annoying when he wanted to.

            "Yeah, well, working sucks Mikey, so I'm going back to school," you chuckled. 

            "Don't ruin it for all of us, Henderson. Some are trying to graduate this year", Eddie quipped, gulping down his drink. 

            "Are you now Munson? Who will lead your hordes of satanic minions in your absence?"

Mirth was evident in your tone, but Dustin clearly missed it. 

            "Hellfire is a Dungeons and Dragons CLUB!! Not a satanic cult??? Are you getting your talking points from Jason Carver or something??"

            "Jeez, Dusty, can't a girl crack a joke? I know what DnD is, it's all you nerds yap about. Also, ew, is Jason Carver still preaching his choir at school?"

            "You have no idea…." Mike mumbled. 

            "He's not that bad, guys," Lucas started, prompting a chorus of groans from his club. 

            "He is incredibly entitled and a terrible basketball captain, in my humble opinion," offered Steve, eyeing your still untouched beer. 

            "Moh, salty about the person occupying the throne you vacated, King Steve?" Eddie snarked with perhaps a bit too much gusto. 

The look Steve threw him, a mixture of "who the fuck are you again" confusion and "why are we interacting" that cheerleaders would throw his way, made the metalhead's stomach drop a little. 

            "Maybe I don't miss high school all that much," you hummed, finally sipping on your drink. 

            "Well, we sure did miss you," concluded Dustin, hugging your side as you smiled at him brightly, squeezing him back. 

            "You might less after moving my furniture, Dustibun." 

The boys collectively groaned as you jumped back into action, your cousin and his friends making their way to the large trailer attached to your car outside. Eddie lingered, chugging the remanent of his beer. 

            "You don't have to help Munson, I didn't expect you here," you offered, and was it a twinge of nervousness he could hear in your voice? Oh, that was interesting. 

            "Always here if you need a hand, Henderson." You caught the suggestive wiggling of his fingers, rolled your eyes, and pushed him towards your front door. He did notice the blush tinging your cheeks. 

            After what felt like hours of moving boxes – how much shit could you bring back into your semi-empty childhood home was truly baffling –the sun was starting to dim significantly. 

            "All right, y'all, thank you all so much for your help, but I'm afraid it's time to scram if you want to be back home before dinner!".

            "You're still coming over, right?" asked Dustin as he polished the last gulps of the lukewarm lemonade on your counter, much to Steve's dismay. 

You nodded enthusiastically and hushed them all to the door. Your hand might have lingered one second too long on Eddie's small back, electing delicious sparks up his spine. You had both danced around each other lightly all afternoon, both sides trying to figure the other out without being too suspicious. It was a skill you had mastered with all these months of sneaking around, for what must feel like a lifetime ago to you, shining bright on stage yet coming back to grace Hawkins with your smile once again. 

Eddie nodded at the tall boxes carefully placed still in the large trailer outside, knowing they probably contained your music gear, before inquiring, "You're not putting them inside? Careful, they might get taken."

            "You fancy my bedazzled folk guitar, Munson?"

            "Depends. Is your name still engraved on the fretboard?" Are my initials still carved on the back of the neck? He was dying to whisper to you. 

The laugh that accompanied the slight push you gave him was enough for now. 

            "Alright, Sinclair, Wheeler, in the backseat. You Hendersons will be okay?" asked Steve, hands on his hips. Since when did Harrington exude this motherly energy, Eddie wondered.  

            "Yeah, I will just detach the trailer and lock it, we should be good."

            "I could drive you."

Eddie had blurted out too fast for his brain to register, the idea of parting from you so soon making his heart lurch. 

You and Dustin looked at him quizzically; "The trailer park is literally down the road, my house is on the other side of town," the younger Henderson supplied. 

            "Rule number one of Hellfire, mini-Henderson; you treat fair maidens gracefully, especially returning ones." He cringe internally, his panicked state at losing his cool making him sound like a grade A nerd. 

            "I thought the first rule was listening to the Dungeon Master," quipped Wheeler as he settled in Steve's car. Oh, he was gonna make Mike lose during the next campaign if the kid did not watch his tone. 

            "Thanks for the offer, Eddie, but I'll need to drive back here anyways, so I'll take my car."

            "Let me help you with the trailer, at least." He thought he heard Harrington mutter along the lines of "since when is Munson that willingly helpful." 

How Eddie hoped the genuine smile you threw him was unique and your lingering gaze not a cruel fabrication of his imagination. 

You hugged the kids and Steve goodbye, dress flowing prettily as you turned back to him and embraced him softly. And yes, your laundry still smelled the same, sweet as lavender and soapy, but with a newer distinctive scent, he could quite not pinpoint. Will need to sniff again, supplied his brain. He wanted to slap the creeper out of himself so hard. 

            "Nice seeing you again, Munson," you whispered in his ear, making him shiver and ache for you only further. The speed with which you could worm yourself back into his body and spirit was frankly concerning, he will ponder later, screaming in his pillow back at the trailer. 

            "You too, sunshine." He brushed his finger along the thin silvery band adorned with a skull on your middle finger. Telling you, he did notice how you kept it. Did remember – how could he ever forget you –. 

            You hopped into your car and honked goodbye as the hopeless metalhead watched you drive away, butterflies swarming in his guts, before the stunned look on Steve's face reminded him of hopping back into his vehicle. 

            Eddie Munson was royally fucked, but so incredibly eager about it if you were the reason. "This really is my year," he muttered to himself as he fished out a mixtape long buried in his glove box, "songs we will fuck to" scribbled on the label with your pink sharpie, the ink fading making the hearts and dick you drew almost transparent. As Eddie drove back to his home, Led Zeppelin blasting in his speakers, all he could hear was the blood drumming in his ears, in time with his pounding heart. God, he had it bad. 

[mvltisstuff]

RIP 2 my youth - lumax.

summary: after the events of season 4, lucas has a whole new level of grief to deal with

lucas sinclair x max mayfield

the smell of antiseptics and cleaned bed sheets wafted to lucas’ nose. he sat quietly in the chair next to the hospital bed, gripping onto max’s limp hand. the mumbling of the doctors outside was silenced in his mind by the replaying of his experience of the last week.

having to witness his best friend, and the girl he loves, get brutally attacked. his little sister, erica, having to give up her innocent eyes to the violence of the upside down. his friend and mentor was killed, and his other best friend, dustin, would never be the same.

his innocent eyes were killed by the underworld. he and his friends could never be the same again after all this trauma, but they could try. and they would.

everything had changed in such a little amount of time. lucas had learnt to cope with everything around him and the situation he was in. he learned to face the alternate reality of the world he lived in at such a young age. he felt like he was forced into a world he never wanted to be a part of, and he felt like it was his fault for ever trying to fix anything.

now, lucas was staring at max. she had bruised eyes, a neck brace, and her face seemed close to lifeless. her diagnosed coma was just a matter of time before she fought through it, or succumbed to the afterlife. lucas would kill to know what’s going on inside of her head, but he didn’t have any fight left.

he woke up every day, 10:00 AM on the dot to visit her. he got dressed, ate breakfast, and his mother drove him down the intensive care unit to see his best friend.

ever since he met max, she was his king. now that she was in this condition, he tried to step into that position and he now had to fill both shoes. he wrote all his words down, because he wasn’t able to convey them across and say them to her. he felt stupid. he felt like an idiot for believing she would wake up when all the doctors and tests and scans told him otherwise.

on the next week of seeing her, lucas brought his crinkled notebook paper with him. he shoved it into his jean pocket and sat in the same chair as always. his shaking hand slowly pulled out the piece of paper and began reviewing the smudged pen.

“i’m not good at this, as you know. if you can hear me. um,” lucas paused, not knowing if he should bother to continue. “dustin’s alright. he’s been having a hard time with eddie’s death. he’s trying to hide it from everyone so he seems tougher, but he’s just hurting more. uh… hopper came back, with eleven and joyce, and will and mike. so we’ve only hung out once. he’s alive, max. he’s alive and he’s ok. steve’s good. he misses you a lot. we got school off because of the…” lucas realizes what he’s saying and makes up a lie again. “the earthquake.

lucas shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck. “maybe when you come home, we can catch that movie sometime.”

his heart shatters a little, thinking about their missed date. he wanted it to be perfect, and his optimism took over his mind. not thinking about the aftermath that vecna would rain down on hawkins.

“i wrote you something. i didn’t build up the guts to say it, cause i know you’d make fun of me. you’ll make fun of me, but who really cares.” he shined a half smile, trying to make light of the pitch dark situation.

lucas begins with a shaky start of the letter. he reads it over and looks at max, her weak body on the bed with the small grains of fight she has left.

with a heavy sigh, lucas shoves the letter back into his pocket and takes out the book he’s reading to max. he reads the words on the page rather than words he actually means.

————————————————————————

laying down on his bed, lucas looks around his room. a few years ago, his young eyes would’ve seen new shiny figures, and silly dnd posters taped up around his bedroom. now, when lucas saw these things, he was a completely different room. his dusty figurines had lost their shine, physically and emotionally. his posters had become outdated and have become frighteningly close to a reality for the kids.

now looking at his situation, he felt the urge to tear down and shred all those posters. they weren’t an imagination anymore.

lucas stood up out of his bed and walked over to the biggest poster in his room. he grabbed onto the top and tore it down. the tape on the back was ripped off, and some of the chipped paint came with it. he saw the old colors of his bedroom and lightly grazed it with his fingers.

he stormed over to his bed, yanking out a cardboard box. the box was filled with old photos from holidays and summers with his friends. people like will, mike, dustin, his family. one in particular stood out to him.

————————————————————————

“steve can you look a little happier?” max protested.

“i’m taking a picture, max. not winning an award.” steve stood in his scoops ahoy uniform, awkwardly with the camera in his hand. “why do i need to look so thrilled?”

max had on her red, heart shaped sunglasses that sat on the top of her head. her ginger hair was waved and tucked neatly behind her ears. her pink cheeks were scrunched up in a light smile. her ice cream cone was dripping over the sides slightly onto her soft hands.

lucas stood next to her with his flowered button up over his white tee. his arm was over max’s shoulder. his bright neon shorts stood out at the bottom of the picture, showing the dirty sneakers at the bottom. his ice cream cup was to the side of his other arm, barely touched.

“he’s just mad stacey stood him up at enzo’s for bryan richards.” lucas whispered into max’s ear, making her grin shine in the bright lighting of the ice cream shop.

“hey! sinclair shut your mouth or i’m churching you triple for that scoop.” steve retorts back. lucas shakes his head in humility, and steve clicked the camera.

with a flash, the smiling picture of the two prints out and his handed to lucas.

————————————————————————

lucas started posting the photos on his wall, replacing the old game posters. he figured he didn’t need a game up there anymore, as it wasn’t as much of a game as it used to be. he covers up the chipped paint on his wall with the photos.

he sits back down on his bed with his eyes drawn to that one picture. he looks at his letter for max and rereads it and adjusts it until he thinks it’s perfect.

they protected each other, and even though they broke up, it was going to take a lot more to keep lucas away from her.

————————————————————————

“dear max,

i’m sorry. i never wanted to get you involved with this mess. when i was just 12, in middle school, playing a game in mikes basement, i thought of it as fiction. then will went missing, and i thought for a long time that nothing could be worse than this. i know you broke up with me, and i know you’re over me, but i should’ve known. i should’ve known something was off with you. i wish i could’ve helped you, but i know why you didn’t tell me. i wish i could’ve fixed it, but the tide went out and there’s no pulling it back in. it’s partially my fault. if you’d never believed me in the arcade, or if i never bothered to tell you, you could be here with me right now. talking and moving around, skateboarding and shit. i knew from the first day i saw you in the hallways that i wanted to go through this with you. i trusted you immediately and your strength was undefeated. max, i’d go through this a million times more to keep you out of this mess. the truth? i love you, max. i wish this was still an imagination. i wish i could shake myself awake and force myself out of this nightmare. this all still feels like a bad dream and i’m waiting for the day i wake up, come to your house, and we can hang out like nothing. as messed up as it sounds though, this mess and your situation has really opened my eyes wider than they’ve ever been. i’m done believing what the doctors have to say, because at this point, i’m done believing what anyone has to say about this shitty world. i need you, max. i cant go through this without you. so basically what i’m saying, vecna can bring down hell on us because he has nothing against us.

love,

lucas :)”

————————————————————————

lucas strutted his way through the hospital halls. confidently walking through the bright lights in his baggy sweatpants and hawkins zip up. he almost thought about getting rid of it now, because to him, hawkins is nothing but a lie at this point.

he stormed into max’s room like something had changed. it was all the same, besides her limbs were adjusted and her blanket had been pulled up, her brittle hands dropping over it.

lucas stood by her bedside, abandoning the chair next to it. he ripped the letter out of his jacket pocket and began to read it. beginning with another shaky, “dear max,” he clearly articulates every word as much as he means them. he gets halfway through to look at her, even though she looks still, except the slight rise and fall of her chest.

lucas finishes off the letter with a light, love lucas. he folds it up and places it onto her bedside table, nudging it under the bouquet of sunflowers. he looks back to see max, her expression different than before.

her nose scrunches up and down, forming small wrinkles on the bridge. lucas doesn’t think much of it, but he still makes note of it. her eyes twitch, and lucas gets more enthusiastic. “max?” he whispers, barely audible.

“max, hey.” he moves to the other side of the bed, gripping her hand. her iris’s rapidly move under her thin eyelids. “i’m here, max, lucas! hey, max!” he shakes it slightly, to not cause her more pain.

her bloodshot eyes finally open to reveal the blue shade of her eyes, surrounded by a flood of pinkish-white. her eyes move around the room frantically, her lips starting to move around the intubation. her eyes finally land on her one, lucas, and she rests her eyes a bit.

“max! you- you’re… i’m gonna call the nurse, max. holy shit!” he exclaims, abusing the call button on her remote.

one of the nurses comes sauntering in, not expecting anything. she looks around at max’s condition, looks down at the chart and looks back. her eyes widen and she comes closer. she presses a button on her pager and the doctors voice comes through. she mutters some medical terms that lucas doesn’t understand. surprisingly not yet, even though he’s been there every day.

the doctors come rushing in and another pool of nurses come in. “hey maxine, welcome back.” the doctor says, shining his flashlight in her eyes. lucas stands in the corner, completely star-struck at the sight in front of him. he’s scared, relieved, and all his emotions are coming together. “she’s breathing over the tube, i think we’re all set to take it out.” he sighs out. “i’ve never seen something like this. this young girl’s a force.”

one of the nurses walks over to lucas, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “honey, why don’t you step out into the hallway while they help her out?” lucas was ready to refrain, but he decides to not cause any problems. the nurse escorts him out of the room and to the chairs in the hallway.

lucas runs over to the public phone, dialing steve’s number into the phone. it rings and he frantically says, “steve! she’s awake! max, she- i saw her! she’s alive, steve!”

“slow down, sinclair. she’s awake?” steve yelps out.

————————————————————————

lucas sits in the uncomfortable waiting room chair, bouncing his leg and cracking his knuckles. he sees steve and dustin walking toward him like they’re on a mission. lucas shoots up and meets them halfway. “dustin! she’s up! she looked at me and- they’re taking her for testi-“

“hey, kid. calm down. it’s ok, we’re here.” steve says, patting lucas’ shoulder.

dustin sits down in the chair next to lucas and looks at him. “she’s really alive?”

“y-yeah. i think so, dustin.”

“jesus christ.” dustin whispers.

they wait, and wait. until one of the nurses is spotted by lucas. she walks over hesitating, “l-lucas?”

“yeah?” he stands up in front of her.

“she’s ok. we took her in for some tests. this is truly a miracle, we’ve never seen anything like this. she’s currently on ivs for medication and nutrients, but she’s awake.”

“can i see her? please.”

“yes, we can take you in a few minutes. she’s going to be confused, and probably scared, but it’ll help if she sees someone she knows and loves.”

his heart skips at the last sentence, but he knows he has to go in there. “oh, lucas.” the nurse is holding out a piece of paper. “this was on the floor of her room. do you have an idea of who’s it might be?”

“it’s mine. i left it there.”

“i figured, sweetheart. i didnt read any of it but i saw a name on there.” she smiles sweetly at him and directs him to the room.

he turns back to look at steve and dustin, who are now both sitting down. “get in there, sinclair.”

————————————————————————

lucas walks into the room, suddenly nervous. his anxiety was creeping up on him again, but he wouldn’t let it take control. this was his girl, and nothing was stopping him now. he was hesitant to walk in, but he stopped in the middle of the room.

a crackling of his name escaped max’s mouth. the rasp of her voice sounded painful, but all his anxiety evaporated hearing it.

“hey stalker.” max forces out, taking a few seconds in between each word. “nice letter.”

her voice flipped a switch in lucas. and after the tide comes back in, lucas is able to swim to shore.

and hearing her voice, he can breath again.

[punkpsychologist]

i have friends now!!!!!

i went to a university sponsored "music" night and I made a friend that I'm going to call P (assuming i havent used that letter yet)

P met B's friend, A and now those two are dating.

my friend group consists of me, B, B's friends G and K, and then there's A and P.

we also have now evolved into a dungeons and dragons group

P and I are both afab and have had that bond of the mutual understanding of the taught/socialized female experience together

its so fun

p and I have the same sense of humor and i think that it stressed B and A out a little bit lol

K has some issues with fetishizing sapphics much to my disdain but he's trying really hard to be liked, he's learning when he needs to shut the fuck up which literally all the rest of us appreciate

he's like an eighteen year old middle school boy from 2015

A is really cool, he's in a band which I cannot tell you the name of. He and B are both computer science majors and share classes together where they will both text me things and read eachothers messages

its quite the experience

G is exceptionally cool, he's highly charismatic and the first few times I met him he definitely seemed to be the person keeping groups on track and in a good mood

shocker shocker, he's our dm for dnd lol I had been really envious(in a I wish that were me kind of way) over one of my long time friends who was able to go to uni in new york state. mainly because they got to forget about home and that they had secured a solid group of friends called The Movie Night Group. The idea of friend groups is one that I have eternally romanticized. I have often found myself to be in trios of rejected individuals. I was one of three throughout elementary until I was 10, it ended in war and bloodshed. I had a friend group in middle school but that ended in lost memories and life altering trauma. High school happened and I had a new group with little cross over from middle school. That group was my everything. It was shattered last winter when a big fight broke out and for two months I spoke to no one. I had been in a bad ptsd episode and was afraid to talk to B and I only left my house twice a week for a singular class. So for two months I only really spoke to my mother. I crept out of my crypt and started talking to B again in march and thats when I started getting better. I love B. Over the phone I confessed everything that happened with my friends and I told him about my ptsd and grandfather's cancer. Basically I told him about all the dark things that hid in my brain and poisoned my body and heart without outing my feelings for him. He jokingly asked me to come to his university. It happened to be the closest and the cheapest. So that's what I did. I'm here and I'm nearly certain we're together. Last time he came over we cuddled and watched an entire season of breaking bad. He asked if he could put his head on my shoulder and I said god yes. It ended up being both of us lying on my bed with out backs against the long side of the wall and his head was half buried in the crook of my neck. I could have solved all my questions by kissing his forehead and searching his face for a reaction but alas I am not so brave. I don't know why I'm typing so dramatically tonight. I just feel like it lol. either way. getting back on track. friend group. last night all of us aside from A who is out of town got dinner together and talked dnd. after dinner we walked around campus together and there was this magic to it. maybe it was the abnormally cool texas fall temperatures or the neurochemicals, but seeing people i knew walking in front of me and being in a conversation brimming with contagious laughter with someone next to me. I felt like a real, live, person. I felt like 19 year old doing 19 year old things. The highest toxicity was an undefined romantic relationship and K's idea of humor. We weren't hiding secrets from each other or trying to socially dominate, we just existed as comrades. Maybe it was love? This feels good. This feels like something that could be permanent. I like these people. Our discord server is popping the fuck off. I feel like a living person who is being good and is healing. I love them and I feel like I love myself. I think I might also be loved which is a cool feeling.

edit: P came out as transmasc today so I feel it is of utmost importance to change his initial to a D

[ja-khajay]

Stuff I read (and liked) this year

As promised, here’s a list of the novels, comics, manga, etc... I read this year, focusing on the ones I enjoyed and would recommend to people. Under a cut, this is going to be a little long.

-------- Books --------

Favorite book of the year: Stranger in the Woods, by Michael Finkel

Non-fiction. Based on the interviews of the man himself by the author, it is about a man who felt so unfit for society he decided one day to leave it, and spent the next 28 years as a hidden hermit in forest in Maine. The book details how he survived there, how he was eventually found, and some of his reasons for doing so. It’s a great reflection on the nature of loneliness.

Indian creek, by Pete Fromm

...Yet another detailed tale of living alone in the woods. This time, the diary of a student who spent a winter in the mountains to help tend for salmon hatchlings, and how he spent the rest of his days hiking, hunting, meeting the locals. It’s a fun little book who, being set almost the whole world away from where I live, was a nice way to travel.

Howl’s Moving Castle, by Diana Wynne Jones

I don’t feel the need to explain this one since everyone and their mom has seen the movie adapted from it. The book, that I first read a decade ago before I actually watched the film, is a less romantized, more spirited telling of the same story. The writing is absolutely delightful and so is the world it paints, and it’s the first time in ages a book had me laughing out loud during my entire read.

-------- Comics (BD) --------

Favorite comic of the year: Monsieur Désire?, by Hubert and Virginie Augustin

A discreet young woman becomes a maid for a decadent, unbearable, byronesque young lord. Caked in the rigid and oppressive social hierarchy of the victorian era, you follow a mental and verbal joust between the two, as the lord tries his best to offend and corrupt his new unrelenting servant, to little success. The writing and especially the dialogues were stellar, drawing me into the tense atmosphere, watching this trainwreck of a character flamboyantly destroy himself. While there’s no precise content warnings that I can give, this is a mature and heavy story.

World of Edena, by Moebius

Anyone who’s followed this blog for over a month knows how much of a Moebius fan I am. Edena combines the vague, dreamlike, wordless storytelling from stuff like Arzach or The cat’s eyes with an actual plot. While I haven’t completly finished the story, the evolution of the main characters and how the story is told have been great to read through, and as always the art is beyond gorgeous. Unfortunately suffers from some good old sexism in the writing that even if minimal, tasted sour

Le roman de Renart, by Joan Sfar (book 1)

Sfar’s work always has a signature vibe of being dreamy and light without being light hearted, of being down to earth but drifting in the fantastical, and this one is no exception. It’s an adaption of a series of medieval folk tales I grew up with, who uses the same characters to tell an original story. If you’re familiar with icons like Renart as well as other mythological big boys like Merlin you’ll fit right in. There is something special in how the dialogues are written, who feel natural in a way that you’d overhear in a street corner and is very special to me.

The mercenary, by VIncente Segrelles

Another one I post about a lot on this blog. The mercenary is a king on the throne of fantasy cheese. The worldbuilding is interesting at times but the writing is a pretty pathetic display of glorious old time sword and sorcery sci-fantasy 10 years too late for it’s prime (warning for ye old sexism and orientalism that plagues the genre, cranked very high...) but you come and stay for the art. The entire thing is drawn in a series of hyper detailed oil paintings with an insane eye for technical detail, from the engineering of the weaponry, to the architecture and weather, to the anatomy of the fantasy creatures... Each panel stands out as it’s own painting which makes even flipping through it without reading the scenario a treat. Click here to see more of the art, in my Segrelles tag.

The ice maurauder, by Jacques Tardi

A short story about mad scientists entirely drawn like a 19th century engraving. In great Tardi tradition everyone is ugly and mean, it ends terribly, it’s both a hommage to the genre of late 19th cent. to early 1900s dramatic adventure novels and a critical eye on it, and it’s morbidly funny. Most people I saw online hated the way this was written but I’m not them and I really recommend this book. Die mad

-------- Manga --------

Favorite manga of the year: it’s a tie between the following two.

Cats of the Louvre, by Taiyo Matsumoto

Most wonderful comic I have read in ages. The story follows a bunch of semi-feral cats secretly living in the Louvre museum’s attic, and the small group of humans who share their life, walking through the museum as the night watch. When the cats are together, they are represented in a humanoid way, but still act like animals, and “become” cats again when a human is nearby. The plot is a sort of supernatural mystery centered around a kitten who walks around paintings. It’s a love letter to art, sincere and beautiful, with a unique art style and great characters.

Memoirs of amorous Gentlemen, by Moyoco Anno

A sex worker in early 20th century paris starts writing down a diary of the clients she meets, in a quest to cope with the troubles of her life. You follow her, her colleagues, and her bittersweet relationship with an abusive lover. I don’t have much words about this comic, but the art and writing both are amazing, it’s the perfect length and drew me in like little series had before. Obvious content warnings as this is an adult story that talks about sexuality, but also depicts both mental and physical abuse.

Hana, also by Taiyo Matsumoto 

A very short story, this was not made to be read as a comic originally, but served as storyboarding and visual development for a play, and the way it is written follows that. Hana is a slice of life story set in a fantasy world, of a young boy, his family, his village. Despite the setting being an original one, the character interactions are refreshingly... normal, and there is no huge plot to speak of, just a bit of the life of these characters. The art is beautiful, entirely black and white, with a scratchy style and an emphasis on contrast. Matsumoto is on a speedy road to becoming my favorite manga artist haha

Delicious in Dungeon, by Ryoko Kui

While not marked as my year’s favorite, I still consider this series among my favorite manga ever. The art and writing are amazing, and it’s both heartfelt, well concieved and plain hilarious. The story follows several parties of dungeon diving adventurers each on their little quests with a premise of our protagonists, on a panic rescue mission, surviving in the dungeon by cooking and eating the monsters they come across. From a DnD party turned cooking manual dinner of the week beginning, the plot creeps up on you and slowly thickens. I don’t want to spoil anything about the overarching story of this because it was a delight to discover for myself. While everything about DinD rules, I am especially fond of the design philosophy of the author, who puts great detail in the practicality and biology of what she draws, as well as the character writing. Everyone even side characters has so much charm and depth to them, the cast is so diverse and entertaining...! Each character is just a bit lame enough but endearing, and has their own little backstory that shows in the way they exist. It’s a delight

Chainsaw man, by Tatsuki Fujimoto

I went into CSM expecting a borderline campy hyperviolent dumb fun thing to read and was very surprised to find an uncomfortably well written story about a teenager being groomed. The hyperviolent dumb fun fights are here nonetheless and the series still qualifies as shonen for some reason, but the more mature character writing as well as some truly outlandish visuals make it something very special. If you can’t stand shonen, not sure you will like it, but if you don’t mind it, worth trying.

Witch hat atelier, by Kamome Shirahama

The oh so elegant fantasy seinen every cool kid started posting about this year, who I also succumbed to and fast. Witch hat is hard to explain, as most of it’s plot revolves around the rules of the world it’s set in, specifically the regulations around it’s magic and the social and historical reasons for them. It’s about growing up, learning, disability, making art. You follow a little girl taken in by a witch as an apprentice, her magical education, and learn little by little why her lovely teacher is so willing to break a lot of rules... While a bit too gentle and pretty for my taste at times, Witch hat has great worldbuilding and explores sensitive themes I rarely see in manga, much less in fantasy. And Berserk wishes it had art this good

[dghdabigbang]

DGHDA Big Bang 2021: Fic Summaries & Artist Sign-Ups

It’s time, artists!

Below the cut are the summaries of all the fics currently in progress for the Big Bang, all numbered with the writers left anonymous. If you’re interested in taking part as an artist, read through this list to figure out which one(s) you’d like to work with. When you reach the bottom of the list you’ll find the sign-up form link, which includes an area to list the number(s) of your first (and second and third if you like) choice of fic! You will be contacted soon about which fic you’ve been assigned.

Two things to remember before you dive in:

When you sign up, please list ONLY the numbers of fics you are genuinely interested and excited to work on! We hope that you all will get your first choice of fic. However, circumstances — such as your first choice being claimed while your other choices are still waiting for artists, or age group incompatibility — mean you might get assigned your second or third choice instead.

Fic claiming is on a first come, first served basis. If needed, we (the mods) might assign multiple artists to one fic, but not until every fic has at least one artist.

Now, on with the summaries and sign-ups! Come and claim some fic, you brilliant artists!

Fic #1 - claimed

Dirk squinted at Todd’s hand, trying to make it out through the blinding rays of sun that had meanly chosen to come out from the clouds at the most inopportune time. “What’s that?”

“Uh,” Todd said. “It’s, um. Well. While I’m, uh, really flattered, honestly, that you think I have eyes that should belong in the paint chip section of a Lowe’s, I really, um—“

It was a letter—no, it was the letter.

Dirk squeaked. “Ihavetogo,” he said, and turned heel and ran.

“Hey, wait—Dirk!”

But Dirk was already halfway across the field.

———

Dirk has three goals for Senior Year: finally save up enough to buy that delightful yellow jacket on Ebay, land the solo at the school’s winter concert, and watch a horror movie straight through without closing his eyes or covering his ears—and, yes, putting it on mute is cheating. None of those goals included having Todd Brotzman as his fake boyfriend. And not even in the fun, cheesy, B-list romcom way, because awkward, grumpy Todd with his obsession with punk rock and DM for the school’s DnD club is far from the football-playing all-star that would typically constitute a situation like this.

But Dirk’s a nice person, and nice people do nice things for their maybe-sorta-friends, so he now has a fourth goal for Senior Year: to help get Todd together with Farah Black, ignoring the fact that she’s so out of both their leagues that the two of them dating will probably make her more relieved than jealous.

Actually, scratch that, maybe he has a fifth goal: to not actually fall for the awkward, grumpy fake-boyfriend that maybe isn’t so far from romcom status than he initially considered. Damn it!

To All The Boys I Loved Before AU. Brotzly, rated Teen. Warning for swearing and mentions of drugs/alcohol/mental illness (anxiety and ADHD). Fluffy and potentially a little cracky. A bit of angst, but a happy ending for sure.

Fic #2 - claimed

“Todd ran over to the freshly formed crater in the snow, stained red from the caravan’s driver who didn’t make it. He averted his eyes and tried to stay on task. Loot the thing and then get out. But he hadn’t expected this. In the back of the crater was a man dressed in pale yellow- he seemed to be unharmed as well. Todd bent down to take the man’s pulse, expecting nothing. But he jumped back when he felt the distinct heartbeat under his fingertips. He was alive.”

———

Todd is a scrapper from district 16 with a strange gift for fixing machines, one could say it’s almost supernatural, but that’s besides the point. One day after Amanda illegally ventures out into the meteor storms to start scrapping early, he follows her only to find a strange man (Dirk) unconscious in a crater. A man with a tattoo that marks his protection under the kings. He takes the man home to help him and maybe return him for a reward, only for his life to begin falling into a mass state of hysteria, danger, and lead them on the adventure of a lifetime.

Takes place on an alien planet called Solace where meteors fall through cracks in space and bring things from other worlds. Major steampunk overtones with fairycore undertones. Most of the story takes place on a train where Farah is the captain of security. (with a secret!) (they all have secrets) (it’s a secret-centered plot).

Who is Dirk? Who is the ‘wolf’ chasing them, and why does Dirk fear him so much? Why is he under the kings’ protection? How deep does the hole go? How did Todd and Amanda’s parents die and why does Todd consider it his fault? What is Dirk? What is Farah? What is Todd? Because they’re all not quite human…

A sci-fi/fantasy/steampunk AU based on “The Mark of The Dragonfly” by Jaleigh Johnson. Swearing, graphic violence and death, human trafficking (of non-sexual nature), PTSD and mentions of torture. Oh, and typical Todd self loathing and guilt. Undecided on if there will be a Brotzly romance plot or not. Rated Teen.

Fic #3 - claimed

Dirk swung his feet off the desk and leaned forward. “Game Night, Todd! We need something new to play, after the…Universe-required but nonetheless unfortunate deaths that followed our last round of Trivial Pursuit, and Cluedo seems perfect for a detective agency bonding exercise, wouldn’t you agree?”

———

Game Nights at the agency tend to get a little holistic. When Dirk convinces Todd and Farah to try Cluedo, their quiet evening of board games inevitably leads to a murder investigation, a forcefield of coincidences, and some minor interdimensional travel. Toothpicks pose a serious threat, Mona is a useful ally in dismantling booby traps, and holistics really need to unionise. But at the heart of this chaotic tale of intrigue, romance, and betrayal lies one burning question: was it Professor Plum in the library with the candlestick?

'Board Games Won With Arguable Efficiency' is a humorous, multichapter case fic set after season 2. Will likely be rated T for swearing and kissing. A getting-together fic for Dirk/Todd (told from Dirk’s POV), with brief references to Farah/Tina. The draft is currently 41k words and about 80% complete. Contains canon-typical levels of mayhem and violence – nothing worse than you’d find in a Patrick Spring death maze. References to claustrophobia, aquaphobia, and poisoning, but nothing graphic; the mayhem is mostly played for laughs.

Prior knowledge of Cluedo (aka Clue) isn’t necessary, although hopefully the story will be entertaining for anyone who enjoys the game. Various holistic OCs make appearances, but the focus of the story is Dirk, Todd, Farah, and Mona.

Fic #4 - claimed

When Dirk walks into the apartment, several hours later, Todd is sitting on the couch in front of the cycling Netflix home screen. He's still wearing his shoes and winter hat, and his coat has been dropped carelessly on the floor.

"I got you the meatloaf," Dirk says tentatively. "It's after 5pm, and you usually only get an omelet if we finish a case before lunch."

"Thanks," Todd says softly, and then the apartment is silent again.

Dirk stands for a moment, then toes off his shoes, steps into the kitchen to put the meatloaf onto the counter, and comes back out to hang up his coat. He pauses, unsure, then takes a steadying breath and walks over to the couch; he carefully perches on the coffee table, facing Todd.

"Are you… are you okay, Todd?"

Todd is looking at his hands, his face oddly pale. "I don't know," he says softly.

———

Todd is struggling. He’s got a great job, two best friends, and his sister is finally talking to him again, but something is wrong. He’s angry and tired all the time, his Pararibulitis is getting worse, and he’s got no clue what to do about any of it. But it turns out that sometimes what you need to be okay is a little help and a lot of work.

This fic is a journey towards self-understanding and recovery, with side quests through medical care and therapy, trusting your friends, trusting yourself, and putting in the effort to find out what happiness really means.

This fic will be rated T for swears and descriptions of Pararibulitis attacks. It’s possible that it may end up as Brotzly or pre-slash, but it’s really more about Todd’s journey than any kind of romance! Currently at about 17k words, and maybe halfway done?

Fic #5 - claimed

“The novel was still open on his laptop, and Todd—after being responsible and answering an email from a coworker asking him to cover their shift on Tuesday (Todd’s answer, though polite, was a resounding ‘No ♥️’)—finally caved and continued reading, waiting for the call from Amanda that would tell him she was ready to pick him up.

***

Silas was already putting together a satchel of supplies when he fully realized the scope of the idea he was starting to have.

He was planning to find a Trost that would listen, and he was planning to tell them of the Dengdamor’s plan to burn their farms.

He was planning to commit treason.”

———

Aspiring author/Librarian AU! Todd Brotzman works at a library, where he finds a lost flash drive with a single file titled ‘Wendimoor’ on it, which Todd finds out is an unpublished novel about a Romeo-and-Juliet-esque love story set against the backdrop of the fictional world of Wendimoor.

When the author of said novel (one Dirk Gently) comes into the library the following day looking for the flash drive, Todd finds it difficult to admit to the man that he had started reading the novel, and had in fact copied it to his laptop—despite the fact that he was loving it.

Todd finds Dirk coming to the library quite often after that, and he and Dirk find themselves in a love story of their own.

Wendimoor is about a kidnapping, a battle between good and evil, but is a story of two men, Silas Dengdamor and Panto Trost, falling in love first and foremost.

Main pairings are Dirk/Todd and Panto/Silas. The story switches between ‘reality’(Todd and Dirk’s story) and ‘fantasy’ (Silas and Panto’s story aka the novel that Dirk is writing). Background ship is Amanda/Rowdy 3.Web #6

“Todd Brotzman’s alarm goes off at two o’clock in the morning, six days a week. He shakes himself out of bed, trudges five steps to the bathroom to clean up for the day, wanders back to his bedroom to get dressed in jeans and a fraying black shirt, and drives fifteen minutes to work in the beat-up hatchback that he’s had since he dropped out of college almost two decades ago. It’s been the same since his early 20s: get up in the middle of the night, work until mid-afternoon, shovel some kind of microwave meal into his face while catching an hour of a show he can’t really get into, and crash around six or seven in the evening. Lather, rinse, repeat.”

———

That is, until the day an infuriating, handsome-ish madman in an absurd yellow jacket crashes through the wall of his bakery like a lemony Kool-Aid Man.

Dirk Gently, eccentric owner of the newly established Icarus Books, argues that a doorway between the two businesses would allow them to share customers. Frankly, he doesn’t understand what all the fuss is about. After all, what goes better with a freshly baked bagel than a book of gay erotica?

Their uneasy peace attracts the wrong kind of attention from a “citizens’ militia” and an extremist cult, who are incensed to find their freedom blatantly threatened by a combo queer bookshop / Jewish bakery. Protests and increasingly violent intimidation tactics threaten Todd’s already precarious finances. But what the hate groups haven’t counted on is a fiercely loyal, interconnected community that runs on the power of found family and sexy coincidences.

shop/Bookstore AU. E-rated for explicit m/m sexual content (Brotzly) and racist/homophobic language (used by villains); 18+ collabs only. TW/CWs for corrupt police; American sociopolitical extremism (incl religious/nationalist fanaticism); overt racism, antisemitism, & homophobia; canon-typical violence (no gore); POV minor characters with chronic mental illness (Amanda, severe AvPD & Farah, moderate anxiety); OC and canonical offscreen family member deaths (past); canonical character death(s). Parallel minor arcs explore Amanda and Farah’s opposite approaches to dealing with mental illness and how they learn to embrace vulnerability with the help of newfound social support networks. (Has a happy ending despite all the dark content!)

———

———

Like what you see, artists? Then go forth and sign up: https://forms.gle/S4gZZmEpYePzK4jd6

EDIT: If you are under the age of 18, all fics that you can collaborate on have been claimed. We are opening up fics #1, #2, and #4 for artists to double up on to make sure we aren't excluding any under-18s from participating in the Big Bang!

[troop-scoop]

Mistakes & Regrets VII

Summary: When a trip to your Dad’s hometown of Hawkins goes wrong, you end up in the year 1983, and have to learn how to cope with being stuck in the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington / Future!Reader (like, a really slow burn)

Warnings: Swearing, name calling

•••

You could feel the sunlight on your eyelids, making everything behind your eyelids appear as a dark red. But almost as soon as the sun was on your eyes, it was gone. The side of your bed dipped down when weight was added to the mattress and a gentle hand was holding your shoulders, a familiar voice coaxing you awake. 

“Y/n. . . c’mon, wake up.”

Opening your eyes you could see Jonathan sitting next to you, Nancy next to him, looking down at you, holding a cardboard cup of coffee in her hands. 

“Wha?” You didn’t have enough energy to pronounce your ‘T’ in the word, knowing that they understood what you were trying to say while laying down in your bed, early in the morning with your hair sprawled out around your head. 

“Get up, c’mon. Get dressed.” Jonathan was being gentler than he had been the day before. Instead of barging in and making a ruckus while you were just waking up, he was being nice about it. 

“Why?” You asked, leaning more into the pillow underneath your head, pulling the duvet closer to your shoulder that were exposed to the cold air. 

Jonathan avoided the answer to the question. “I’ll explain in the car. C’mon, we got you coffee. Rise and shine.” With that he stood from the bed and you grumbled a bit at feeling the sunlight back on your face. The door to your room, wide open. 

Nancy placed the cup on the bedside table, and she stared for a moment at something on the table by the lamp. Something you didn’t have enough effort to even look at. 

You sat up, grabbing the coffee and taking an unsure sip, testing the dirty bean water to see how hot it was. 

“What’s this?” Nancy asked, picking up what she’d been looking at. You turned your head, feeling your knotted hair move across your bare shoulders. She held up your long dead phone, the black screen smudged with your finger prints and a bit of dried goo by the home button. 

It’s not that you couldn’t charge it, you had the charger for it. You supposed out of all of the moments you could have gone missing and end up in the past, you chose the right one, with all of your essentials being in your bag when you ran off. But charging your phone, only to see the photo your Uncle took of a place called Balboa Park in California, made you nervous. The thought of seeing photos in your camera roll of your family scared you. 

“That’s uh. . .” You struggled for a few seconds for words. “My phone.” You answered. 

“ There’s only one button.” Nancy observed. “Oh, sorry, four.” She corrected herself upon seeing the volume and power buttons. 

“Nancy, we don’t know how future technology works.” Jonathan told her, going to the open door and closing it, returning the room to the dim lighting you usually kept it in whenever you went to bed, or wanted to lay in bed and be depressed. 

Your attention turned to Jonathan as he turned back around and saw you staring at him. 

“I believe you. You left this at my house.” He said reaching into his bag and pulling out your sketchbook. With everything going on, you hadn’t even noticed you’d left it at the home when you’d left. But that meant he’d had it for since before the funeral. and hadn’t mentioned it. 

He flipped to a page where there were different doodles you and your Dad had done while eating pastries and drinking warm cafe beverages. He usually always got a coffee, you always got a hot cocoa when you went with him. It was tradition every Friday. 

“That’s not his DnD character. It’s one of his friends.” Jonathan pointed to one figure on the paper, that was colored in with crayon, because yes, you and your father still used crayons. 

“It’s Mike’s. He doesn’t know you, there’s no way you could know his character, so that means you’re not lying” Nancy spoke, placing the dead phone onto the bedside table again while you got out of bed, placing the coffee on the table, not caring that you were wearing a tank top and underwear, with no bra. 

“Y/n-” Jonathan started, only to get cut off by you.

“Why would I lie? What would the benefit be for me, huh?” You demanded, walking to the dresser, pulling out a pair of pale blue jeans and pulling them on over your underwear. “Oh, yeah, I’m Y/n Byers, haha, jk, jk, just fucking with you.” You said in a mocking voice, mostly to yourself as you zipped up the jeans and grabbed your belt. “As if I’m not gonna be talking about this shit in therapy ten years from now, in- oh wait, not my year, but rather fucking 1993! Mean Girls won’t even be out yet, the fucking IPhone won’t be invented yet! I’ll have to continue going to a fucking payphone every time I wanna call someone if I’m not here!” 

It was all getting on your nerves, it wasn’t very late in the morning, meaning they woke you up way before you were supposed to, and while the coffee would help, you didn’t appreciate them somehow finding the spare key you had to the room. 

“Oh, and I’m gonna have to keep saying Czechoslovakia instead of the Czech Republic and Slovakia because they won’t separate for another ten fucking years!” That was directed in Jonathan and Nancy’s way, and they both blinked in surprise, staring at you as though you’d lost your mind, and if a stranger had heard you, they would think you did. 

But Jonathan was the one who stuttered his way back into conversation. “Al- alright. . . Any-anything else?” He asked, holding the strap to his bag that was resting on his shoulder. 

“I have plenty of shit to complain about, Jonathan. I’m choosing to not start a fight right now.” 

Jonathan was stunned back into silence, watching as your demeanor was now that of a sad toddler. Your moods always fluctuated for about an hour or two after you’d woken up. Pulling the belt through your belt loops you reached into another drawer, pulling out a sweater and bra and walking to the bathroom. “Can’t even change in peace, in my own damn room.”

•••

“No! No, we’re not going off of a theory that this thing is like a Lion, Coyote, fucking Bear hybrid in behavior!” You yelled from the backseat, still holding the coffee. “It is 7:52 am, guys! I should be in bed, not yelling at you two for a stupid idea, a- a- a fucking hunch!”

Nancy turned in to face you from her seat, He blue eyes intense with determination as she stared at you. “If Will’s your dad, you want to find him, right?” 

“That’s not fair-”

“If you want to make sure you’re still born, this ‘hunch’ is all we have.” Nancy shot back, silencing you as you sunk into the carseat, holding the cup closer and taking a slow sip, intentionally making the annoying slurping noise, only to be disappointed and even more annoyed when Nancy turned away and faced the windshield again. 

“You’re both gonna get me killed.” You commented lazily, propping your feet up on the center console, continuing to drink your unflavored and unsweetened coffee, grimacing at the taste every time, but hoping and praying that you hadn’t built up a tolerance to caffeine. 

Jonathan pulled into a spot that wasn’t ‘technically’ a parking spot, and turned off the car, turning to face you like Nancy had. 

“Okay, do you- do you know of any way you could possibly get back to, you know. . . your time? I’m sorry what year?” 

You stared at Jonathan for a moment, because he had such a familiar face, and yet, he felt like a stranger. “I think I’d have to go back to that place. And although I really do love being able to say things other people understand, I think I’d rather live through history than go back there.” 

Your attitude changed, going from light-heartedly bitter about being woken up, and annoyed with their plan to get the monster that you called a Wendigo, to sad and down. Because it made it real. 

You’d never fall asleep in the back of the car listening to your Dad and Pa playfully argue and banter while your brother blasted his music so loud you could hear it with your own headphones on. 

Long days where you went to school, your brother’s orchestra performance, and then dinner would no longer be a thing. Your nights wouldn’t end with your Dad putting your music on for you. Because no matter how old you’d gotten, your Dad was still your Dad, and he’d always been there, even if it was for something as simple as turning your music on for you. 

Looking down at your lip you fought against the tears, refusing to cry in front of them. That was only something you did alone. 

“I’m gonna get some food.” You said quickly getting out of the car with your bag in hand. Jonathan followed suit.

“Y/n-”

“Stop.” Your voice shook as you looked at him. Holding the top of your backpack with a death grip, “You two go buy your fucking Sam and Dean Winchester bullshit, I’m gonna get something to eat. It is eight in the morning, on a Saturday! I am tired, I am hungry.” You told him. “So, I am going to go to the cafe down the street and get a muffin or a breakfast sandwich, and I will meet you back here!”

You didn’t mean to constantly be yelling at Jonathan, after all, he was one of your only uncles. But this wasn’t your uncle. He was just Jonathan Byers, whose brother was stuck in a dark and scary place, hiding like you had.

And you were just a kid. A teenage girl who didn’t know what to do. Who felt as if your world was crumbling all around you, pinning you to the ground so you couldn’t get up.

The only thing you could do right now to make anything around you seem even remotely okay, was to eat, try and pretend like you didn’t just choose your fate in the back of an old Ford while a sixteen year old version of your uncle stared at you. 

So you’d gone down the street, fighting against tears until you heard people talking, verging on hushed arguing. So you looked up and saw the movie theatre sign, the letters put into place to say ‘All the Right Moves’ but right after, red spray paint saying ‘Starring Nancy The Slut Wheeler’ 

You knew the hand writing, with Steve having once convinced you to look over Tommy’s English paper. You’d given up barely halfway in, the spelling getting on your nerves and the grammatical errors hurting your head a bit too much. You’d told him to go to one of the tutors in the library. 

Looking down the street a bit more you saw the culprits, Carol, Tommy, Nicole and of course Steve. 

There wasn’t a reason in the world for this. And although you’d never been in a relationship, you knew how a boy's mind worked. Especially a boy like Steve. Who was turning out to be the biggest asshole in disguise. 

The group of four slipped down into an alley, and as if on auto pilot, you followed them, now ignoring your original plan of getting something to eat.

“Steve!” You shouted when you finally reached the alleyway, watching as Tommy was taking a can of red spray paint from inside his jacket. Their attention turned to you as you made your way over the older male, who’s facial expression and body language was unreadable. “What the hell was that?” You demanded.

Tommy uncapped the can and stepped up a small set of stairs that only took him up off the ground about a foot, and started working on a cruel message on a piece of plywood. 

“Y/n, just go home.” Steve said firmly when you reached him. Shaking your head you stared up at him. You didn’t know why you were angry. You had no right to be. He wasn’t your problem, and your dads always told you to ignore men and boys like Steve Harrington. 

“Steve, just tell me what happened.” You urged. You shouldn’t be giving him a chance to explain himself, you could have just turned him and his friends in as the vandalizers of the theatre. You should’ve, because you should still be angry over Jonathan’s camera. 

“What does it matter?” He questioned while you grabbed the sleeve to his navy blue jacket. 

“It matters because that’s public humiliation, not only in general, but to the girl who I’m pretty sure you’re dating?”

Steve only huffed and pulled his arm away from you. “This is why it doesn’t matter. Cause see, you have this little soft spot Jonathan Byers, you’ll defend him no matter what I say.” He huffed, looking away from you and at the letters Tommy was writing with the spray paint. 

“Steve, that’s not fair. You were being a grade A cunt when you broke Jonathan’s camera, okay? And now? You’re acting like a little bitch. Your little feelings are hurt because of something Nancy did, so you’re gonna humiliate her? Stay classy, Harrington.” 

He turned his gaze back to you, glaring. Now his feelings were evident, he was angry and sad. And wouldn’t tell you why. 

“Hey, L/n, wanna know something that even my little sister knows?” Tommy asked, pausing for a brief second and looking down at you, a cigarette between his lips. You quirked up an eyebrow. “Little girls should be seen and not heard.” 

You scoffed a bit at Tommy’s comment, a bitter and fake grin coming across your face as you put your hands on your hips. “I wish I could say I’m surprised that you're a misogynistic piece of shit, but I’m not.” You looked back at Steve, taking a step back from the group. “God. Steve, I thought you could be a good person. But you’re the biggest asshole I’ve ever met”

You went to leave but the moment you turned around, you saw Nancy, close to angry tears as she walked down the alleyway to where you all were. You stood in place, not leaving her side, and not Jonathan’s either as he followed after Nancy. 

“Aw, hey there, princess!” Carol said with feigned happiness as Nancy finally reaches her spot in front of Steve. 

“Uh oh. She looks upset.” Tommy stated the obvious while you gave the couple space, leaning against a parked car and watching as Steve turned to face Nancy. As well as watching while Nancy raised a hand to slap him against the side of his face. The only causing you to flinch being the sound that the three other teens made in reaction to their friend being hit. 

You’d seen worse at school before. Having watched a fight go down where a kid tried to brace his fall after being pushed, and broke the bone in his forearm. You still got shivers whenever you remembered the large bump in his skin where the bone was presing gainst. 

“What is wrong with you?” Nancy inquired. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? I was worried about you. I can’t believe I was actually worried about you.” Steve’s voice trailed off at the end, being followed by a scoff, as if he was disappointed in himself. 

“What are you talking about?” It was clear that Nancy was just as clueless as you were as to what was going on with Steve’s sudden betrayal against Nancy. 

“I wouldn’t lie if I were you. You don’t want to be known as the lying slut do you?” If there was anyone at Hawkins High who you hated more than Tommy, It was Carol. 

“Speak of the devil,” Tommy hopped down from the top of the small set of stairs. “Hi.” He said with a smile, putting the cigarette back in his mouth and wrapping an arm around Carol. 

Turning you saw Jonathan coming closer, his presence finally being registered by the others. It finally clicked. And it seemed to click for nancy too. “You came by last night?” 

“Ding! Ding! Ding! Does she get a prize?”

“Look, I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t like that.” Looking over to Jonathan he was holding out a hand for you to come over and take. You removed yourself from the situation and went over to your uncle, grabbing onto his sleeve. 

Because at times, he was just the face you knew as your uncle growing up, who bought you your first camera in fifth grade, and bought you lightroom and photoshop in sixth when you were thinking about going into photography in highschool. And right now, he was that familiar face, who could see how uncomfortable you were and was offering comfort. 

“What, you just let him into your room to. . .” Steve gave Jonathan a quick glance before looking back down at Nancy. “study?” 

“Or for another pervy photo session?” Tommy laughed, your grip on Jonathan’s sleeve tightening. 

“We were just-”

“You were just what?” You wished you could intervene, but you couldn’t. Because you didn’t know what happened last night after you left the Wheeler household. “Finish that sentence.” 

You looked up at Jonathan, and saw the way he was looking at the couple. And it slowly made you realize, that this was your aunt. You’d never called her ‘Aunt Nancy’ she was always just ‘Aunt Nan’ to you, and no one ever bothered to correct you. And maybe you were looking too much into things, but she did look very similar to your aunt. 

“Finish the sentence.” Steve challenged. 

Nancy just took deep breaths to stay calm, while you stood and watched as Steve shook his head at her response of choosing silence. “Go to hell, Nancy.” 

Jonathan stepped forward and grabbed onto Nancy’s arm and pulled her back a bit. “C’mon, Nancy. Let’s just go.” 

You went to turn around but Steve began to talk again. “You know what, Byers? I’m actually kind of impressed.” Jonathan and Nancy turned away, beginning to walk to the street again, with you following after until you saw Steve give Jonathan a harsh shove to the back of the shoulder. 

“I always took you for a queer, but I guess you’re just a little screw-up like your father. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah that house is full of screw-ups.” 

The words were getting to you. Because that was your family. Your grandmother, your asshole for a grandfather, and your uncle. And you’d never let words get to you, but these were striking you deep, and hard. But you didn’t turn away, you just kept taking steps like Nancy and Jonathan who tried to ignore the shoving, and Harrington’s cruel words. 

“You know, I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised. An bunch of screw-ups in your family.”

“Steve, walk away.” You snapped turning to him while Nancy told Jonathan to leave it alone. 

“I mean, your mom. . . I’m not even surprised what happened to your brother-” 

You threw the first punch, your dominant hand balling itself into a fist and colliding with Steve’s nose. And the moment you heard the thud of bones cushioned by skin hitting each other, and the deep, yet dull and constant pain in your knuckles you knew you’d made a mistake, even if it felt satisfying to hit him. Because the moment you pulled back swearing and hissing at the pain in your fist, Jonathan had followed your lead. 

Jonathan’s punch had a bit more weight behind it, and made Steve grab onto a pole to regain balance. You started something, but you didn’t know what.

You screamed out at Steve to stop the moment that he tackled Jonathan to the car you’d leaned against, and so had Nancy. 

When Steve had pushed Jonathan onto his back and on the ground, you felt as if the pain was your own, your spine tensing up the moment you heard the thud. 

“Steve!” You yelled while Jonathan switched their positions, rolling them over so he had the better position to hit. You hated that Steve’s friends were encouraging it. Well, at least Tommy was. Carol and Nicole knew when things had to end. 

It happened fast, with barely any time to process it. All you knew was that Jonathan had Steve on the ground a second time, Steve’s face bloodied and already swelling and bruising when the cop car came. Nicole and Carol running off when Tommy told them too. All you knew was that Jonathan hit a cop, and Steve and Tommy ran.

•••

@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers​​​​ @jxnehxpper​​​​ @yllwtaxi​​​​ @songofcosplay​​​​ @potatopooper05​ 

[steveusesfaberge]

Better Parent (pt. ii)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Summary: The kids have their loving mother and...uhh...other mother...take them to the Wheelers’ house; an advice filled car ride later - and some quality time with his favorite girl.... and it ends with a shifty scheme crafted by only the best intentions, and two teens not doing the babysitting they were assigned to do...wonderful. Sounds just like another day for Harrington!

Type/Style: Imagine, female pronouns

Warning(s): Fluff~, momma Steve, heed all warnings… Oh, and a bit of cursing! >.<

Word Count: +4,100

a/n: The is part two to Better Parent and with that being said, I hope you all enjoy!

Part 1 - Part 2 (you are here) - Part 3

Please send requests! I’m excited to write for you all! <3

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“Hey--”

“Move over, your ass is in my lap!”

“Hello?”

“What?! You're practically in my seat!”

“Is anyone even listening to--”

“Stop it guys - don’t push!”

“Hey! Dickheads! Would you all quit it? Goddamn, why didn’t one of you go with Y/N like she suggested?” Steve growled while trying not to crash the car. The boys had all decided they’d tumble into his car...leaving a party of three merrily skipping to the other teenager’s car...it wasn’t like there was anything wrong with it! - Y/N’s car was actually quite nice; she took care of it and even had a better radio than Steve...

“Because then we’d be alone with all that estrogen...not happening, Harrington,” Lucas spoke up while giving Mike a hard shove to his side. Will was groaning in annoyance as his friends jostled him to be pressed harshly to the car door. While Dustin happily was messing with the stereo (when he’d called shotgun - and Steve allowed it, Y/N had claimed it was ‘favoritism amongst their six babies who she, as the better parent, loved equally. Thus, no one would be sitting passenger in her car. Steve figured that’s why none of the boys wanted to go, being squeezed between El and Max might not be ideal...though Harrington knew better. Y/N liked playing her own music, and with a grubby hand like Dustin’s all over the radio - her rule had been set long before she became a mom).

“Mhm, sure,” Steve grumbled while rubbing his temple, already regretting agreeing to this. It wasn’t like it was a long ride back to Mike’s house - but goddamn did these knuckleheads make it feel like it... “Tell me that again when you’re not off sucking faces with Max,” the older boy was praised with ohs and ahs as he snapped the remark at Sinclair.

“At least I have a girlfriend,” Lucas defended, earning his own audience of noise.

“A-hahhhh, and what the hell is that supposed to mean, asshole?” Steve jabbed while resting his elbow on the rim of his window, it had been rolled down because all the movement in the car had it feel like a damn sauna. Dustin was still messing with his radio, flipping channels and making the music louder when Steve had specifically told him to turn it down. He slapped the said boy’s hand away and scolded him briefly,” Hands off, Henderson - how many times do I have to say it? It’s distracting me - do you want to die?” He exhaled slowly, trying not to pull the car over and kick each out to the side of the road. Either having to walk the rest of the way or ask Y/N.

“I mean - I have the balls to even kiss a girl - or are you and girly Henderson dating without us knowing?” Lucas drilled, earning a head nod from Mike, and an eye-roll from Will who just wanted to get to the house (he was more interested in DnD than how poorly Steve’s love life was going).

Steve abruptly stopped the car. He heard Y/N slamming on the breaks, a honk of her horn and the muffled sound of her cursing him off for such a dangerous stunt. He ignored it though, deciding to deal with the consequences later. Luckily, there wasn’t anyone behind Y/N to backend her (he wasn’t dumb enough to do such a thing with precious cargo...).

“What? You know how many girls I’ve kissed? How many I’ve made out with? Huh? Do you forget who I am?” He wiped his chin and shook his head with a defensive blush finding his face. He took a breath in and exhaled with a more composed manner. He tried to ignore the way the boys in the back held their laughter in, and definitely, decided to ignore the way Dustin watched them all in confusion (dumbass didn’t even see the way Steve looked at his sister).

“Me and Y/N...are not a thing. We’re not together, we’re not a couple, we’re not an item,” he drawled while shaking his head. After a few moments of silence, the boys clearly conflicted on to continue laughing or feel bad for the way Steve’s tone dropped off at the end of his sentence.

He started down the road again, both hands gripping the wheel tightly; his eyes never leaving the windshield. His ears painted pink.

“You...you guys know this,” he mumbled while shaking his head once more, flipping Y/N off in his rearview mirror.

“I know but--,” Mike was cut off with a soft sigh from Harrington.

“I-I can’t. Okay? Is that what you wanna hear from me? That...that I know I’m not good enough for her? That...I’m scared if I told her, she’d swallow me whole and I’d never be able to look her in the eyes?” The desperate drag of his tone was obvious (maybe Y/N was right; he’d stooped to King Steve level of desperation...not for other girls...but...to just get a chance with her...anything...anything...he’d do anything).

The rest of the ride was filled with the boys in the back, coming up with love advice for Steve. Ask her out, just do it - be confident! Write her a letter. Tell her she looks nice. Ask her if she wants a boyfriend. Tell her she’s hot. Oh, what about showing her-- they’d reached the Wheeler estate and as they began unbuckling and getting ready to leave the car (thank the Lord, he wasn’t sure how much more he could take), and Dustin - who had been silent the majority of the ride finally spoke.

“What. The. Actual. Fuck.” He sputtered while his eyebrows furrowed in utter shock and confusion.

Steve rolled his eyes, and pushed his door open, calling over his shoulder,” I like your sister, dude. We’ve established this like....thirty-six times. Catch up, dipshit.” All embarrassment he had earlier had washed away, being replaced with a bubbling feeling of nerves and doubt. The boys were trying to be nice, do their best...but...they were all awkward preteens...their advice was as good as Steve consulting a Magic 8-Ball.

Inside the house, before trucking to Mike’s basement - Dustin dragged Steve to the kitchen, his mind still trying to figure out what had been revealed (or more so, finally brought up as Steve’s feelings for Y/N had always been the weird, pink-polka-dotted elephant in the room).

“What’re you doing? - They’ll start without you--,” Steve was hushed as Dustin slapped his hand to his mouth.

“My sister?” Dustin whisper-shouted. Steve rolled his eyes for the nth time and tugged Henderson’s grip from his face.

“Yeah, dingus - we’ve been over this--,”

“But my sister...Steve...why?” Dustin wasn’t sure how he felt about it clearly, and it only made Steve more nervous. That feeling that sunk into his bones, not a good one. Of course, if he were going to date Y/N...he’d need his best friend’s (and favorite child’s) permission.

“Whaddya want me to say! She’s like...the only girl I hang out with that’s my age, besides Robin, that I don’t mind,” Steve paused,” Might I remind you - Robin’s not into dudes.” It was almost sad how his social life had crumbled along with his desire to capture anyone else’s attention but Y/N’s (and of course, he’d tried to push those feelings aside for the sake of your friendship...but...it never worked).

Dustin was quiet; longer than Steve would’ve liked, as sitting in the soft silence was nervewracking. The curly-haired sibling stood, arms crossed, eyes clouded with thought as he rubbed his chin. Steve tapped his foot, leaning on the kitchen countertop as he waited, pinching the bridge of his nose. God, this kid’s such a headache...

“Dusty - Will told me, to tell you, that if you don’t go down now, you’ll be left out,” Y/N was just turning the corner when she spotted the pair in the kitchen, seeming as if they were in quite the predicament. 

“Is this a private moment...or?” she spoke slowly, a tease to her words.

“N-No! I was...just...telling Steve that...um...,” his attention now on the older boy who had a hand ruffling through his hair for any imperfections (though who was he kidding? Harrington had the best head of hair in Hawkins).

“I was telling him if he doesn’t do it...I’ll...be disappointed...guy stuff,” Dustin gave Harrington a sincere half-grin and there was obviously a conversation to be held later (but Y/N’s appearance lead Dustin to keep his mouth shut for now).

“Really?” Steve asked, his brows raised as he took the boy’s words in.

“Yeah...yeah...just...don’t do something weird in front of me,” Dustin lowered his voice as he spoke the last bit.

“Alright, enough bro-talk, Dusty - get going and leave the adults to talk.” Y/N rolled her eyes; ruffling his hair as he passed by.

It was just the two of them, and Steve was trying not to do something stupid. Walking forward, he felt his body involuntarily tense up as she moved to stand a few feet from him - though a few feet was more than enough to render his mind as blank as all hell. His body completely useless now...

Don’t do something stupid. Don’t do something stupid. Don’t do something stupid. Don’t do something stupid. Don’t do something stupid....

“Did you want to do something while they messed around? Like catch a movie or--,” Y/N was interrupted by the blubbering fool before her.

“Your letter - uh, looks nice -- I mean, it looks hot! No - wait...that...that didn’t come out right.” Steve’s outburst granted an unsure look from her. Please just kill me now...did...did I say that? Well...all logic had found its way out the nearest fucking window...

“What?” Was all Y/N said while waiting for Steve with furrowed brows.

He covered his eyes, his free hand waving around for a dazed second as he tried to get the proper words out. Breathe...be natural...be confident....don’t fuck it up like that again, Harrington.

“I meant to say - you look nice,” he paused,” And to answer your question, why don’t we just go down and um...finally settle the score?” That...was...better.

Y/N shrugged, nodding as she reached for his hand. At that moment, Steve’s heart flatlined and he was sure he was now staring at an angel as she dragged him across the house, to the basement. “Sounds good - be prepared because momma ain’t leavin’ without her babies’ approval,” Steve could only nod to the back of her head as she spoke such fighting words.

If you asked Steve Harrington at the beginning of high school - what he thought about spending his free-time with six underaged dweebs who all were too smart-assy for their own good, and got themselves in trouble with hell (literally)...he’d have laughed and told you, you were as delusional as Byers.

If you asked the Steve Harrington the same question now - he’d look around at the six underaged dweebs shouting and arguing around a table laid out with character sheets, figurines, and dice... He’d laugh at their quick remarks and their tendency to use foul language, and he’d smile. Steve would’ve congratulated Byers’ brother for being the best Dungeon Master, the world had to offer.

If you told him, roughly five years after high school - he’d be seated on a busted sofa, in his ex’s basement, coke loosely held in one hand, the other pushing a pretty girl’s head away from him in a teasing manner...he’d...well..he’d not believe you. Because you’d describe the girl as someone so...amazing, so incomparable, that he’d think you’d made her up. You’d say that she was so breathtaking, that if you were in the same space as her for too long - you’d die from a lack of oxygen. That she had the most stunning y/c/e eyes he’d ever have the perquisite of seeing, and they’d have him chasing her for ages...having him choke on his own spit when she looked at him. Not to mention, the heartstopping laugh she’d have...the kind of laugh that had any guy (not just dorky Harrington) fall harder than he thought possible. Finding himself in an endless fall that put even Alice’s rabbit hole tumble to shame. She’d have a melody that had him trip over his words and stumble to find his footing. Yeah...Steve would not have believed you.

And yet, here he was...watching six dweebs play Dungeons and Dragons; with a girl he was madly in love with - more perfect than words could offer, sitting on a busted sofa, in his ex’s basement, no more than a foot between them...

“I’m tellin’ you, Steves - I’m the better parent, because the girls love me, and the boys worship me,” Y/N explained while pulling an L up to her forehead. Steve scoffed and waved her off.

“Actually - I don’t worship you, I worship Steve for giving me his hair secre--,”

Steve began snapping with his left hand, shaking his head and glaring. “Hey, hey, hey! Shithead - you swore on your life, you’d never say jackshit about that!” Dustin threw his hands out in silent defense.

“Sorry, I was just standing up for y--,” Steve shook his head once more, blowing him off with a puff of his cheeks. “Remember what I said? One peep - and your ass, yeah the one you’re sitting on now, is grass, Henderson. Grass.”

The gang began laughing at Steve’s overprotective outburst of his “best feature”. The brunette only tsked, mumbling obscenities.

“That wasn’t very better parent material, Steve,” Max snickered while El whispered something in her ear.

“Aye! No whispering under my watch - if you have a secret, you can say it aloud in front of the family,” he stressed with fake authority.

“But you just told Dustin--,” “Eleven - I don’t need a smartass.” Steve pursed his lips.

The kids eventually settled back down, getting sucked into their fantasy world once more without a second glance to the pair on the sofa. Y/N was clamping a hand to her mouth, trying not to let the amusement slip from her lips. She loved seeing Steve with the kids - he was so....dorky and sweet in his own way...saying so, she could almost admit she loved h--

“What’re you laughing at, Ms. Not-the-best-parent-because-you-suck-and-don’t-have-great-ass-hair?” Steve hissed in a low tone. His eyes watching the way Y/N’s flickered with happiness and one emotion he couldn’t quite place.

“You’re wrong for two reasons, Harrington,” she mused.

“Enlighten me,” he replied, leaning to have only a few inches between the two of you. It had been on a fleeting moment of confidence, leaving Y/N with a bright red glow - and Steve with a dumb grin. He wasn’t sure if he was proud of it, or extremely embarrassed...he settled to let her finish instead.

“Well, one: you’re not the better parent. I am,” Y/N pinched his cheek, to which he tried to back out of, but she only squeezed harder, leaving Steve to let out a grievance of annoyance as she tugged him back to listen.

“And two: your hair isn’t that great. I mean--” Steve gasped in a dramatic hurt. Falling from her grip and bending over her lap like a speared body. “Stop! Right there, don’t finish that sentence...you’ll ruin everything I’ve worked for.” he pleaded. His tongue sticking out his mouth as if he’d ‘died’.

Y/N giggled watching his childish act and rolling her eyes, a good-natured smile on her lips. She brushed a hand through his hair and spoke in an exaggerated tone,” I’m so sorry, Steves, please forgive--,” in the time of her talking, Steve had lifted a hand and silenced her with the odd hand-motion that looked like a duck, then grabbed her wrist and removed her hand from his scalp.

“You don’t get the privilege to touch my great ass hair, even if I’m dead.” He mumbled, stifled by her lap. Even though in actuality, he loved the feeling and knew if she didn’t stop he’d fall asleep.

“Oh, get over yourself,” Y/N proclaimed while attempting to shove the limp body of Steve Harrington from her own. “Nuhu,” he murmured.

Watching the two teenagers fall all over one another, the six children held back their gags.

“It’s so sad,” Max mumbled.

“Yeah, so sad I can’t focus on this raid,” Lucas agreed while knocking his head against the table.

“It’s like watching two blind...like very blind bats try, and make love.” Mike spewed.

“Thanks for the visual,” Will snorted.

“I think it’s sweet.” Everyone looked to El as she shrugged with a sheepish look.

“What? Steve...he likes her. Why is that bad?” She grabbed Mike’s hand. “I like Mike. Mike likes me - why is Steve and Y/N any different?”

The idea hit them like a ton of bricks...or, maybe it was the obnoxious laughter of their favorite Henderson (to Dustin’s protest) being tickled by Harrington, that snapped them into realization.

Steve was basically, on top of her. His hands running down her sides as she squirmed, refusing to apologize for saying she was better than him, and that his hair wasn’t anything special... While it was cringe-worthy on every level (according to a sulking brother), it was...sweet.

Y/N had a smile on her lips that they’d never really seen before - save for when Harrington entered the room. It was like he said the funniest thing without really having to say anything at all...like Steve brought out the best in her without having to lift a finger. Stomach in knots when he called her name...it was that kind of smile that Steve was able to bring out.

As for Harrington himself? His smile remained even after she left. Having spent a whole day with her - the party would catch him grinning to himself like a madman while helping them put away their game set-up. They’d catch him repeating things he’d said that happened to make Y/N smile the way he loved... It was the kind of look that you couldn’t replicate, even if you tried...only if you knew the feeling - could you do so.

Realizing this, Dustin yelled and groaned silently in his head (half disgust and half reluctant understanding). Steve, you owe me big time for this...

“Fine,” he whispered, catching everyone’s gaze but the two still messing bout on the sofa. “What’s the plan?”

“You’re s-such a l-loserrrr!” Y/N slurred while trying to struggle free of the handsome boy before her. Steve knew she had a soft spot for being so sensitive - he’d figured it out one time when she almost knocked him out on accident...(it ended with a lot of apologizing on your part, while also laughing as he held a bag of frozen peas to his face to avoid any swelling...)

“Admit it, and I’ll stop,” Steve tried to sound as serious as possible, failing utterly as Y/N’s y/c/h was splayed out like a crooked halo. Truly an angel...if anything, he wasn’t sure what he’d done in his (not so great) lifetime to earn the graces of such a human as you...good God...

Catching his gaze, Y/N shook her head (her halo only following her as any good angels’ would). “I-I...haha...will...n-never...a-admit...a-a lie!”

Steve only clicked his tongue. Sighing with a shake of his head. “I guess you’ll suffer until the end of time then, huh?”

After a few more minutes of torture (which Steve called, making sure Y/N had gotten her daily dose of laughter - as it was the best medicine and he didn’t need her falling ill any time soon, because...well...he didn’t have any apples on deck), he stopped, finally allowing her a breath of stability. He scooted down so he could cross his arms over her stomach, half his face buried there as he watched her collect herself.

It was moments like these that Steve truly cherished the most...he wondered if Y/N had the same mindset.

Because he’d honestly, never felt so good with anyone - not even with Nancy, who admittedly, was someone he’d actually held some feelings for (of course, the emotions Y/N threw at him had always overshadowed them, but Wheeler breaking his heart didn’t hurt any less). Steve had never wanted to give someone the world - mainly because it was impossible - but he knew that if Y/N simply suggested that such an action would, make her even smile for a few seconds...he’d figure out a way to do it within the next twenty-four hours.

You know, you’re like really pretty. Do you know what you do to me, Y/N? Is what Steve so hopelessly wanted to say, but he didn’t, instead, settling for a much simpler version.

“You wouldn’t be able to pull off this hair like I do...which is why...if you really wanted me to, I’d teach you my ways,” it came out as a harsh whisper of sorts - his jaw not having much movement as it was pressed to the crook of his elbow, both arms still rested on Y/N’s abdomen.

She laughed, and it sent a vibration through his body as he was rested atop her - only resulting in a chuckle of his own. The same wave taking ahold of Y/N, as Harrington’s chest rose and fell with each quick, shortened breath.

It was like they were in their own little world...too bad Dustin throwing a pillow at Steve’s head had to ruin it.

“So, we’ve come to a conclusion...,” Dustin explained, watching Harrington awkwardly try and sit up off his sister - Steve’s face burning up. Though, Y/N was in no better condition...her hands found her neck and her cheeks were a lovely shade of sunset.

“Oh, yeah?” Steve hummed while glancing at a nearby digital clock. “It better not be something crazy - ‘cause it’s almost ten o’clock and I think some of you need to get home.” Y/N nodded in agreement, leaning over and using her hand as a terrible shield,” Nice one...trying to act all momma bear like...I think they’ll definitely say you’re the better parent now.” “Har, har. Your sarcasm wasn’t necessary, Henderson,” Steve noted while flicking her forehead.

“We all need to go upstairs,” El suddenly directed. A hand raising to point, as if proving her sentence true.

Steve froze, unsure of where this was exactly going...but seeing as El usually had only good things to say...and a good intention...he nodded, words slow as he spoke,” Okay...okay...we’ll go upstairs then.”

They all marched up, like eight odd ants in a line - and when Mike suggested they watch a movie before Steve and Y/N drove them all home; it was quickly unanimous (which was a hard deal, as both teenagers knew getting six hardheaded children to agree on something was worse than trying to get Billy Hargrove to turn down a pretty face and a tight dress).

“Uh, ‘kay then...I guess we’re watching...a movie now,” Steve mumbled, trying to figure out the sudden change in pace. He was sure they hadn’t even finished their round, or match...or whatever they called it (he had only tried to play DnD once and...well...that’s a story for another time).

“I’ll see if there are any blankets, Mike, would you mind seeing if there’s any popcor--,” “Oh....you’re not watching the movie...did you think you’d be watching it with us?” Was Wheeler’s response.

Six shit-eating grins and twelve hands shoving a Scoops Ahoy employee and a caring older sister out the front door later...and Steve found himself standing on the porch of Mike Wheeler’s house - the kids he and Y/N were supposed to be watching having locked them out, without their wallets or keys...or even a hint at what they were doing outside in the, now cool summer night...

“Great going Steve,” was all she said while staring at the closed door.

He whipped around on her and glared while crossing his arms.

“Wha-- me?! I don’t remember you helping with, I dunno...six dipshits shoving us out the damn house!”

“I didn’t think I needed to...Mr. Better Than Me...I was clearly wrong.” Y/N smirked.

Steve couldn’t even be fake mad for long. It ended with the pair laughing and shaking their heads, clutching their stomachs and asking for the kids to let them back in. Without an answer...Steve questioned what this was all about; remembering the boys giving him (crappy) advice on how to ask Y/N out. I mean...this is one way to force a guy between a rock and a hard place...

“Screw it, screw them, screw babysitting - screw this,” Harrington lamented. “No cars, but we got legs...wanna just go for a walk until our meddling kids decide to let their old folk back in?” He was going out on a limb, but...he couldn’t help it. Her presence was just so damn addicting...he wanted as much as he could get without having to pay the price of embarrassment just yet.

“Sure, Steve, sure.” with a gentle smile and a giggle...that was all the hype he needed to take her hand and pull her from the stoop.

“Well, m’lady - then let me lead the way.”

---

Hm...I can’t help but want more to this....partttttt 3 anyone? >.<

[metalandmagi]

August Media Madness

Well, August may have sucked for me personally, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t keep track of all the media I consumed this month! And spoiler alert, I watched a lot of movies involving adorable talking bears. Although, I have a feeling that as soon as the fall television premieres start, I’ll be watching a lot less movies.

July’s media

Movies!

Dear Evan Hansen

Thank you bootlegs. This isn’t a movie, but I didn’t want to make a separate category for plays when I’ve only seen one this month. Anyway, if you haven’t heard of it, Dear Evan Hansen involves an incredibly anxious teenage boy who is tasked by his therapist to write motivational letters to himself. Unfortunately, Connor Murphy, an angsty boy who goes to Evan’s school sees one of the letters, takes it, and promptly decides to kill himself, with the letter still on his person. Everyone ends up thinking he and Evan were friends and that this letter was a suicide note that Connor wrote to Evan...and a beautiful fake gay relationship friendship was born. Call me basic as hell, but I’ve watched this show twice now, and listened to the soundtrack more times than I can count, and it’s turning into my favorite musical. There are so many important messages in it, and it takes you on a roller coaster of emotions. Every character does good and bad things, and no one is blameless or innocent...except maybe Zoe Murphy. If anything just listen to the soundtrack. 10/10

Night on the Galactic Railroad

Cats...on a mystical train...This seems like the kind of movie they would show you in film school. Very dull plot and characters with the themes being the main takeaway. What even is the plot of this movie? Darker, grittier, furry version of the Polar Express? Incredibly boring slightly more religious version of Over the Garden Wall? I just kept watching it because the main character looks like a cat version of Kagayama Tobio in middle school...cat-gayama. 4/10

Paddington

An adorable bear from South America travels to London and gets into all sorts of trouble with an English family. It’s very charming and sweet, and the aesthetic in this movie is on point, like Wes Anderson directed a children’s movie. This is one of those movies you hear about where everyone loves it, and you think it can’t possibly be that good, but then you watch it and you were wrong! So wrong! 10/10

Paddington 2

Naturally. This time an adorable South American bear goes to prison, and his family tries to clear his name. Again, A+ aesthetic and imagery, but I think I preferred the plot of the first movie a little more because everyone was all together. 9/10

Christopher Robin

Do you like Winnie the Pooh? Do you like jaded adults finding happiness in their lives again? Do you think the movie Hook had a good premise but was extremely long and kinda boring and could have been a better movie with a little tweaking? Well this is the movie for you! Christopher Robin has grown into an overworked adult, and his old friend Winnie the Pooh inadvertently helps him reconnect with his wife and daughter (and also his inner child) just by being the sweet, clumsy, dry humored bear we all know and love. I was so skeptical of this movie at first, and I was absolutely blown away by how funny and meaningful it was. 100/10

The Road to El Dorado

Two lovable Spanish con men named Miguel and Tulio are accidentally swept away on a journey to the fabled city of El Dorado, where everything is made of gold. Once they reach the city, the locals believe they’re gods due to an (un)fortunate series of coincidences, and the con men try to keep up the charade with the help of the best character in the movie, Chel (who I’m pretty sure caused an entire generation of lesbians’ sexual awakening). This is one of my favorite animated movies of all time and one of the reasons I wish Dreamworks would go back to their 2D animation days, where the visuals and music were just as stunning as 3D movies are now. This movie is a classic, and I desperately want a sequel! 10/10

To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before

When Lara Jean thinks it’s a good idea to write 5 secret love letters to 5 boys that she’s had crushes on over the years, everything is fine until her little sister mails the letters to all the boys (because even a 6th grader knows Lara Jean is lonely and emotionally stunted as fuck). This is a Netflix original movie that was adapted from the book by Jenny Han...which I haven’t read, but now I really want to. Overall, this was super cute, but I wasn’t really crazy about the boys. They weren’t horrible people or anything, and they never pressured Lara Jean or made fun of her for being “innocent”, but they were just kind of bland. I’m much more interested in the other boys we didn’t see in the movie! But the family relationships were so heartfelt, Lara Jean’s fashion sense is AMAZING, and the acting/casting was awesome. 8/10

Summer Wars

I...don’t even know how to describe the plot of this one. A teenage boy named Kenji goes on a country holiday and pretends to date an acquaintance of his in order to impress her enormous family...but it’s really about an AI that becomes sentient and wants to mess up the world through this universal internet program called OZ that’s kind of like a mashup of Facebook and Second Life...but actually no it’s about family sticking together and using a Japanese card game to save the world…but apparently it’s got the same plot as the Digimon movie because they’re both directed by Mamoru Hosoda. Yeah...

Guys, I have a confession to make...this has always been my favorite Mamoru Hosoda movie. Everyone falls all over themselves saying Wolf Children is the best Mamoru Hosoda movie, and that’s great for them but it doesn’t even come in second for me. Summer Wars means a lot more to me personally because I come from a big extended family, and when I first saw this movie, I was blown away by how accurate the family dynamic was. There are so many characters, but everyone has their own personality. Not to mention the music makes the summer atmosphere so on point. And I’m not going to lie...I bawled like a fucking baby the first time I saw this movie. So anyway, I like Summer Wars more than Wolf Children, thanks for coming to my TED talk. 10/10

Atlantis: The Lost Empire

Unappreciated researcher Milo Thatch goes on an expedition to find the lost city of Atlantis.

Okay, there are two kinds of Disney fans in this world: Treasure Planet fans, and Atlantis fans. And I will support Treasure Planet as the best underrated vaguely steampunk inspired Disney movie until you can pry my 15 year old dvd copy away from my cold dead hands. But Atlantis is pretty good too. I could write essays comparing the two and why both of them should be successful but weren’t. My main problem with it is that the characters are great, but I feel like we don’t see enough of them, and as a kid a lot of the humor went by so fast that I completely missed it. Also the glowing eyes and spirits taking over the Atlantian princess’s body freaked me the fuck out as a child. NEVERTHELESS! This really is a great movie, with extremely well developed lore and well designed characters that chills me to this day. 8/10

Deadpool 2

The merc with a mouth is back, and man there’s so much going on in this movie I won’t even try to explain the plot. I literally had to go back and add this in because I was so into this movie when I was watching it that I forgot to write it down! Even though I really liked this sequel, I think I liked the first one better, just based on how much I laughed. There was so much going on plot wise, but it really seemed to work for this movie. There were also a lot of great new characters (Domino is my favorite character of the franchise now), but since there was so much stuff going on, a lot of jokes and plot lines were sort of hit and miss. Anyway, I’m sure everyone’s seen this one by now but just in case, I highly recommend it. 9/10

Books!

The Adventure Zone Graphic Novel: Here There be Gerblins by Clint McElroy (technically all the McElboys) and Carey Pietsch

Yeah yeah, for anyone who doesn’t know I’m Adventure Zone trash okay. TAZ is a DnD podcast where 3 brothers and their father create one of the most famous campaigns in history involving three idiot adventurers going on a quest to find a missing person and getting sucked into a much larger grand plan to protect the world. This graphic novel is a visualization of the first arc. I don’t even really like Here There be Gerblins all that much, and yet here I am. Oh well, the art was amazing, and of course I already knew the story. But it was kind of hilarious to see the name changes they had to make to some of the characters and places. I was a little disappointed that the ending was so rushed, and we don’t really spend time around the moon base before The Director is in our face changing the Lunar Interlude parts but whatever. 10 dead gerblins/10

The Darkest Minds by Alexandra Bracken

When a disease that only affects children kills off nearly all the kids on the planet, the survivors are left with supernatural powers and are taken away to concentration camps in order to “protect” the public. I’ve been wanting to read this for a long time, and since the movie just came out I thought it was the perfect time. This is one of those books that some people adore and some people hate. I thought it was just okay. For everything that I didn’t like, there was something to make up for it. Personally, I felt that Bracken focused on the wrong part of the story. Everything takes place years after this disease has come, and I think it would have been more interesting to see everything from the children’s points of view when this disease was first starting. I would focus on each different character as a child and how they wound up in their respective camps. Oh well, there’s way too many pros and cons  that I could delve into, but you like the YA dystopian genre then I say go for it. I didn’t like it enough to read the other two books (not yet anyway). 7/10

TV Shows!

Camp Camp

You know how there are summer camps that specialize in science, or acting, or space, or whatever? Yeah Camp Camp is about a summer camp that throws literally everything you can think of into one summer camp. If you don’t believe me, just listen to the theme song. Seriously though this is one of the best shows I’ve watched all year, but boy howdy this is not one for young children. It’s like Gravity Falls and Rick and Morty had a baby! Anyway, the characters are both surprising and hilarious. David the camp counselor (voiced by Miles Luna) is genuinely likable when you think he’d be the most annoying person on the planet, and the kids are so accurate it’s scary. Also Yuri Lowenthal is in it. And Griffin McElroy has a recurring role where he plays A GHOST! I’ve never been into Rooster Teeth stuff, but they have a winner with this one. 10/10

The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

After her husband leaves her, Midge Maisel gets super drunk, goes on stage, and gives a hilarious rant about her relationship at a small comedy/talent club and somehow gets sucked into becoming a rising comedian as a woman in the 1950s. It’s good. Great acting pretty funny, but Midge and her agent/manager Susie are the only likable characters. Everyone else just kind of...sucks 8/10

Voltron Season 7 (spoilers)

Okay, I know everyone had mixed feelings about this season, but I did come out liking a lot of it. It had a lot of flaws (I really thought it would be Shiro’s season, and man was I wrong), but this is the sort of thing we can’t really judge until the last episode of the series is finished. I like to think of the positives: the action was amazing as usual, HUNK IS GETTING MORE AND MORE DEVELOPMENT EVERY SEASON, I refuse to believe the team introduced Adam just to have him killed off immediately so he’s still alive in my mind, we get to see everyone’s reunions with their families, the lost in space episode was cool, and say what you want about the game show episode, but I loved it! There were a lot of good things so it was easier for me to look past the...not so great aspects of the season. 7/10

Galavant

A musical comedy mini series involving a renowned medieval hero named Galavant on a quest to rescue his ex girlfriend from her “evil” husband King Richard. But maybe she doesn’t want to be rescued. Well, that’s just the first season. It’s best to go in knowing as little as possible. I remember liking it when it first came out, and it’s still pretty cute...but sometimes I feel like it’s trying too hard. A lot of the music isn’t really...memorable, but the characters are likable so it’s still worth the watch. 8/10

Disenchantment

Speaking of medieval comedies...Princess Bean doesn’t want to get married, mystical elf Elfo doesn’t want to live in an enchanted forest where everyone is happy all the time, and Bean’s personal demon Luci just wants to watch people suffer. Honestly, I wasn’t very into this show at first, but something compelled me to just keep watching, and by the end I was totally into it! This is one of those shows where you think there isn’t going to be a plot, but then the last few episodes come up and smack you in the face! 7.5/10

Round Planet

A documentary parody...mockumentary...satire...That’s really not a great way to describe it. It’s a nature documentary with funny commentary. I like nature shots and animals so I liked it, but there’s a lot of tangents and running jokes and British references that sometimes don’t land. Oh well, if you like unconventional documentaries, just watch it. 8/10

Honorable Mentions

DnDnD: I don’t think I’ve ever talked about this podcast before, but there’s a DnD podcast made by Practical Folks (aka the Drunk Disney youtube channel). It’s pretty good! I want an Adventure Zone crossover now!

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild: Every time I think I’m out, it pulls me back in. I finally got the DLC and spent most of this month playing this freaking game AGAIN!

The Heathers soundtrack: I finally listened to the Heathers musical soundtrack...and I didn’t love it. There are some good songs in it, but overall I’m unimpressed. And I never could really get into the plot, I’ve always thought it was really weird and over dramatic.

Legendary by Stephanie Garber: I’m about halfway through this book, which is the second in the Caraval series. And it’s pretty good! More on that next month.

[tammythompson-singslikea-muppet]

Richie? Part 3 final

Heeelllloooo after days of trying to juggle writing, school, and actually sleeping I have finished part 3 this is will be the final part and to tell you the truth, this is the first story I have ever finished so im kinda proud of my self.

Low-key Stan x reader vibes sorry not sorry

Warnings: intense fluffiness

Part 1 Part 2

Mike looked up to his friends

“El.” Realisation washed over the boys faces. You look up confused.

“She’s Mike’s girlfriend we were supposed to be waiting for her at the house.” The boy with curly hair explained.

“Im Dustin by the way, that’s Lucas, Will, and Mike.” Dustin pointed to each boy. You smile hearing the name Mike.

“I have a friend named Mike back home.” You pull yourself up from the ground.

“Well when we get back home you can tell us all about your friends, Im sure you miss them” Mike says. They all get on their bikes and Dustin turns to you.

“Come on you can ride with me” You hop on and say thanks. As you’re riding and you get closer to your house you ask Dustin to stop.

“I’ll be right back!” You yell as you run into your house. You run upstairs and touch up your eyeliner having cried most of it off. After, you go downstairs and grab your own bike and head out

“Alright let’s go”

We get back to the house and run downstairs following the boys. A girl with curly hair was sitting on the couch. Her face lit up when she saw her friends

“Mike”

“Hey El this is (Y/N), she’s new in town.” The girl named El seemed less than impressed, but honestly you feel the same way about meeting people today, and everyday to be honest. You give a small smile and a wave. She returns the small smile and turns her attention back to Mike.

“She’ll warm up to you it just takes some time.” Will explains. You nodded.

You guys spend the next two hours or so talking about various things, school and stuff like that. They even tried to teach you a little bit about DnD. You told them about Derry and your friends and how it’s kinda nice that you now have people to talk to about all the geeky stuff you were into like Star Wars and comic books. Stan would listen while bird watching but didn’t really have anything to say, and Richie was more into the arcade which you also took joy from. Bill was into movies but not all the same ones you were into, so it was nice to have people like the same superhero’s and comic books as you do. You luckily got to avoid anything about Richie’s death. You couldn’t stand having to lie to everyone about what really happened. Richie died a brave hero trying to help save his friends, but all anybody would know was that his foot missed a branch and he tragically fell out of a tall a tree the wrong way. And the boys relieved that they didn’t yet have to explain anything about the Demogorgan or the upside down, but of course that wouldn’t last long in Hawkins.

When the time came around to take more evil the truth on both sides was revealed leaving alot of people in shock. The next summer your mom and dad surprised you with a trip back to Derry. You were ecstatic to be able to see your friends again. As soon as you told Stan that you were coming back for two whole weeks he knew that he absolutely had to finally ask you out on a date, something all the losers has tried to get him to do countless times before Richie died and before you found out you were leaving. He was so discouraged when you had decided to meet up at park, him about to ask you on a date, when you told him you were moving. He knew that this was his only chance not knowing when you would be back again. When you had gotten back to Derry you found out you would be staying at Bill’s which you were very happy about. Those two weeks were the happiest any of you had been since Richie passed. You hung out with Mike at the farm for a day which was super fun. You all had a movie night over at Bill’s which ended in you falling asleep first with your head on little Stanley’s lap. You guys did everything you would usually do back in the good ol days. You all updated each other on you lives during a trip to the quarry. They were suprised to hear what you all had gone through back in Hawkins. They all asked if I had a picture of Mike. You had told them the story of the first time you saw Mike and when they heard you were coming back for a visit they told you to bring a photo. You told them it was with your stuff over at Bill’s, so you got dressed and headed over to his house. When you got to the room you were sleeping in, that used to be Georgie’s room, you head over to you bag and pull out a picture of Mike, Jonathan let you take on his camera. Mike obviously didn’t know you had taken it. He was just talking to Will, but it was still a good photo

“Holy sh-shit” Eddie grabbed the photo,

“Wow he really does look like him.” They all pass around the photo, your attention more grasped on something else in the bag.

“You kept his glasses” Eddie said softly sitting down next to you.

“I have his Freese’s shirt sitting in my drawer.” He admits

“One time when the boys were hanging in my room Mike had found them on my desk and put them on. When I turned around I nearly had a heart attack.” You laugh a bit.

Two days before you had to leave was your date with Stan, he set up a little picnic by the quarry knowing it’s one of, if not your favorite place in Derry. It was the sweetest thing anybody had ever done for you and you couldn’t keep the smile off you face. You and Stan had a crush on each other since anyone can remember. You always say next to each other at lunch ever since Kindergarten, back then you would even hold hands every recess on the play ground. In second grade you would share kisses on the cheek, and finally in fifth grade shared your first actual kiss. So to say that this was long awaited was a bit of an understatement. It was the best afternoon and you just wish Richie could have been been here, him being you and Stan's number one supporter. Needless to say you guys were inseparable the next two days.

Before you were to leave Stan was keeping you company while you packed. Mostly so he could slip a letter inside your bag, but also to do this. You felt a hand on your shoulder and when you turned Stan placed his hand on your cheek and brought his lips to meet yours. You felt pure bliss kissing back the curly headed boy. You pulled away when you heard you mother aww. Both you and Stan turned away blushing.

“I’m gonna miss you so much” Stan sighed.

“Me too, Stanley"You rest your head on his shoulder and he wraps his arms you. A few moments pass the Stan speaks up.

"We should go downstairs” And you do just that, Stan offering to carrying to your bags and doing so anyway when you tell him you can handle it. And just like last year you hug all the losers goodbye this time giving a Stan another kiss.

When you get back to Hawkins your friends await your arrival at your door step.

“Hey! Welcome Home!” Lucas engulfs you in a hug along with rest of the boys, Max and El.

“Alright, alright give a girl a little room to breathe!” You laugh. You all go upstairs to your room where you empty your bags on your bed eager to put everything back where it belongs and throw your clothes in the laundry.

“Oooh what’s this.” Mike teases.

“Oh look it’s from Stan” Dustin clings the envelope to his chest falling dramatically on to your bed.

“What? Give me that!” You snatch it out of his hands. A white envelope with

To: (Y/n)

From: Stan

Neatly written on the front. A smile graces your face. Your first instinct is to open it right away, but you though it best to do so in private, so you put it down on your desk next to Richie’s glasses.

“Oh no you are opening that now” Max says picking it back up handing it to. You think for a second then open it. The first thing you notice is picture. You pull it out and see it a photo of you and Stan on your date at the quarry You knew the rest of the group did a little sitting and know you knew to thank Mike later for a photo you would cherish forever.

“ Oh my gosh is that you guys on a date?” Max gushes. You nod blushing.

“Little creeps were spying on us” You saying jokingly. Next item in the envelope was of course a letter.

Dear my lovely (Y/N),

From the first time I saw you the

first day of Kindergarten I thought

you were the most beautiful I had

ever seen. I still think that to this

day. You will forever have my heart

(Y/N) (Y/L/N), and I will always

hope to call you mine someday.

That afternoon at the quarry was

one I’ll never forget. Bill and Richie

have always told me that I was

head over heals in love with you,

and that’s something I don’t think I

can deny anymore.

I love you (y/n) (y/l/n)

and I always will. I hope we make

it back to each other some-

day and we can spend the rest of

our lives together, that is all I

hope for, and I hope you feel the

same way

- Stanley

P.s I really regret not kissing on our date

If I didn’t kiss you when I gave you

this note please yell at me.

“Oh my God, that’s so sappy.” Will says with slight disgust.

“Well you heard the kid he’s been in love with her since Kindergarten what do you expect.” Mike laughs. Sniffles could be heard as Dustin fakes wiping a tear away

“So beautiful” He mumbles. The room erupts in laughter. You put the letter and the photo on your bulletin board and spend the rest of the day hanging out in Mike’s basement.

The End

Thank you all for reading I really hope you enjoyed.

Tag list: @justandloyal2961 @itsau @chelseamosbey @silinceikillyou @loveroflps59 @holywinchesterness @pinkhappypanda

[cpeacephoto]

This is NOT a sad story.

This is a story about how the worst sin I ever committed to someone else, was really the worst sin I ever did to me. It really would be better told in comic form like The Oatmeal but, we work with what we have got.

Between roughly 16 to 26 we are sort of thrust out to figure out who we are, our place in the world, relationships, and so on. It is a lot like feeling your way blindly through a cave. You are told you’re in a cave, you’re told there’s a way out, you’re told you have to get out. That the rewards will be high and so will the punishments. So, you begin to feel your way through with anxiety and excitement. Periods where you gain confidence and periods where you do not want to move anymore. My story is no different.

When I was 16, I moved to a new place. Did not know anyone. In the place I had been I was defined differently. I was someone just starting to gain an interest in photography. At that time, I was nerdy. I played Magic The Gathering, I was interested in role playing games similar to DnD, I had even tried table top games like Warhammer 40k. I was someone who loved to listen to loud angry music and work off the aggression on the bike trails and I liked playing Hacky Sack at lunch. I enjoyed writing deeply and I really enjoyed being a part of the group. And I felt like I was somebody in my group. I was someone who was snarky, witty, quick with a clever pop culture reference, funny, and weird. In my social group I was someone that could be counted on for deep conversations, something funny, and being dependable. I was someone who was not afraid to voice his opinions even if he was hopelessly wrong, to get into arguments, and even if it hurt still believed that conflict was okay. It did not mean it was over. It meant you learned more about each other and yourself.

In the new place I was at, everyone was different. Everyone except one amazing person who was busy on their own journey. Life has a funny way of speaking to you. It does not use words, or voices, or even explicit action. You have instincts. And sometimes those instincts tell you things like to stay away from someone or to do a certain task. When I saw this person before we had even met yet I just knew they were the most important thing in my life.

We became friends. Not at first as it was bumpy. But I persisted. And I have never regretted it. When we finally learned how to talk to each other it was amazing. Not so much over great distances like letters or the internet. But in person we just seemed to click. Those conversations were like talking to the deepest parts of your own soul. Learning something new about them was like learning a truth of the universe. Doing things with them, just felt right.

My friend and I connected because were both snarky, witty, and most of all weird. We both loved to live in our own little imaginative worlds. And we would talk about it to great length. The little movies we had played out in our heads in places that never existed. It also did not hurt that I was helpless to the fact they had this amazingly big beautiful brain. They were amazingly compassionate. Not afraid to get their hands dirty. Weird in all the right innocent ways. Had a face I could not really say no to and was comforted by just being the room with.  

But it did not take long before I begin to commit my sin. Right from the beginning I changed. It started by not playing computer games. They did not play the same games. And I was so worried about fitting in or looking stupid that I stopped playing them too. Same with the Magic cards, the RPG’s, the tabletop games, all of it. As time grew, I began to vocally look down at these activities. Trying to fit in by being mean just to fit in, even though I was really being mean to myself by not participating.

Our conversations inside our little worlds continued. But they slowly began to degrade. The trips to our fantasy escape became less frequent as the real world became more and more a forefront. I stopped writing. High school ended and we ended up at school. They had their entire life roughly mapped out. All I knew was that they were important. We ended up at neighboring Universities. Both now in new places again, trying to figure out who we were individually, together, and around other people.

The idea of having to “grow up” became more and more a concern for me. I so desperately did not want to be left behind. I wanted to stake my claim to a place in this world. Like a lot of young people, I was being told repeatedly that I had to do everything right or I was going to be living in a van down by the river. They no one would be coming to save me from a horrible life. It also didn’t help that like a lot of young people I was someone who was quick to judgment, quick to anger or fight, and quick to opinions. I was also slow to forgive, and I hated waiting. I wanted my perfect life and I wanted it now.

Life is a lot like floating down a river in a boat. It flows, it moves in one direction, and you really cannot change the shape of the river by yourself. Where and how you end may not be as where or how you planned from the start. You usually do not see the end from the start. More importantly you cannot get to the end of the river at the start. You have to take the journey, no matter how that river my twist and turn, slow or speed, be it rough or smooth.

There are signals if you take the moment to look for them. Just as I knew my friend was important, I knew change was coming. I can remember one morning walking down the hill from where we were staying. I was alone. And all I could think of is somehow, someway, it would be a long time before I would be walking up this hill again. It was going to be long and it was going to hurt. And when I got to the hill again, there’d be a dark-haired woman with me but I couldn’t see her face.

As time progressed, I saw my friend around a lot of new people. I grew insecure. I could feel my friend growing distant. In some ways it felt like they were not themselves anymore. I so desperately wanted to help them. And in my insecurity, I also feared being left behind. And I feared those new friends. I began cutting away more pieces of myself. It felt like the stakes of life in the real world where getting higher, and harder. That I needed to continue to make a bigger and better effort to try and keep up. To prove my worth and to keep everything together. I kept trying to lose things that were “kids stuff” or “weird” because part of me worried I was losing my friend because these other people were somehow more adult than I was.

By the time things fell apart my friend was already long gone. It was really just a formality at this point. Under all the pressure and with the very obvious failing that had now taken place cracks began to form in the physical world. I stopped eating, drinking, sleeping. My mind raced and I looked for answers anywhere I could get them. I was determined that I could prove I was good enough. I would prove I was paying attention and I was strong enough. I can keep up if you just do not leave me here. “I can fix this” became a death chant. Determined I just needed more time, more data.

The escalation happened fast. The answer came quickly. It was not a call for help, it was not a mean hurtful arrogant call for attention. It felt right. Once again, I felt like I was stepping up. Making the tough call and being the adult world needed me to be. I did not want to, but I had to. It made sense. And oddly anything making sense in that moment felt like stress relief. All I had to do was lose the last part of me I had left.

Things do not work out like they do in the movies. No one is coming to save you. Not that I really had anyone besides my parents to by then anyways. The best plans do not always work out. It is not quick, or painless, no one calls you a hero at the end of it. Instead whatever resemblance of a life you have left is now gone. Everyone hates you. You have nothing. No matter how bad you think your life is, it can always get worse.

The worst things I ever did to someone else, was the worst thing I ever did to me. In an attempt to fit in, solve insecurities, be and do what I thought my friend and everyone else wanted me to be or do I lost myself. By slowly losing who I was, I lost them. I lost giving the reason to see me with value. And they lost apart of themselves trying to compensate. For them, it took leaving the empty shell I had become to find me in other people.

Everything you need to know about existence can be summed up with 3 words: it goes on. My friend and their new friends lived life. Their journey of self-discovery continued without me. In short, they began the process of finding themselves again. And fortunately, they had lots of people around them for support. It is surely a process that will have likely led them to many places, many people, sadly a few bouts of pain, but lucky some joy as well.

Life rarely gives you what you want when you want it. But if you are listening it’ll give you want you need whether you’re ready for it or not. For me, I knew this meant waiting for something. But I did not know what. And I knew it meant becoming something, but I did not know what. And I never knew why to either.

Every person, every place, every situation, happens for a reason potentially. A lesson in what to do, or not to do. A lesson that teaches us who we really are. The hero of the story rarely is the person they were at the end of the story as they were at the beginning. They usually needed to do something and become something different. Like my friend, my story continued as well.

This was a new phase of life. From the spot I landed myself I had nothing. No friends, no school, no job. I was alone. I was a hollow hulk of a person. Anyone around me told me I was broken, and I believed them. Because they thought I was broken they tried to fix it with medications, their own decisions, advice on what I should do, and so on. But I was not broken. It was amnesia. I simply had forgotten who I was.

That is the way my life continued for a while. I would eventually no longer be medicated. I would finish school, where I started even, though it was not easy. I would find work. Not careers but work. I found a way to survive. Handle all the check boxes of the real world. But I was alone. No friends, no new romances. Just surviving.

At some point I would make the horrible mistake a lot of people make. When in doubt I would do what those in my orbit told me to do. Coworkers, parents, whatever passed for a friend at the time. I would date other people because they said it is what I needed to do. Hook up with other people because they said it is what I needed to do. Not talk to certain people because they said it is what I needed to do. None of it ever felt right.

And the whole time I would keep myself locked up from other people, making friends, having fun, finding out what I enjoy, doing the things I used to like to do. Holding myself to this impossible standard of having to be better than I am. That it is all my fault. That I am some sort of monster. That this should just be easy. I should just know. That funny feelings like “I’ll be here again”, “they’re important”, “this isn’t meant for me”, “and I need to wait” was just stupid. That recurring or all too real dreams were just stupid dreams and proof I belonged in my box.

My story would end up taking me west. First to someplace new and then back to where I had started when all of this began. While I would meet a lot of people in that time, I would not make a lot of friends. Honestly, I had spent most of my 20s alone.

It sounds horrible but time has a funny way of grinding down mountains to sand. Space to just sit in a box and scream until you are just tired of screaming, learn screaming isn’t doing anything, accept you’re in the box. Time gives you a chance to think. It gives you a chance to find patience. It gives you time to find humility. It gives you time to find forgiveness. And it gives your perspective. Over the course of time I would find myself less willing to get into fights or arguments. Less quick to anger. Less worried about politics. Less interesting in things that did not really mattered.

Slowly but surely, I’ve been given glimpses of myself. Like breadcrumbs on a path to follow. I got to play Munchkin with a few a few times and was able to feel a little like me again. I was able to form a better relationship with my sibling and do regular long-distance computer games together and get to feel a little like me. And I get to do photography.

Photography for me is a great sense of wonder. I am not the best at it, and that’s okay. I am not trying to be “an artist” anymore. I like looking at something and seeing an image. Getting that film back and just getting that feeling of, “wow, that worked out really well”. That pride of “I did that”.  

In portraits, I would really get to feel myself again. I would get to try to create images that made me feel like my old friend was still around. Even if the photos from the shoot sucked, I would get to meet a new person. And my favorite thing to do with that new person was talk for hours and hours about my old friend. Talk fondly of them, how wonderful they are, why they should go look at their works, and so on. It is in those moments I get to come alive, feel complete again, and do something that really truly fills me with joy and with purpose. I get to remember who I am just a little bit. The best compliment I ever got from someone was how they hopes someone they used to know would talk so fondly about them 10 years later as I do about my old friend. So, the photos became breadcrumbs into who I am. Visual clues to helping me remember a part of me I lost.

I write this out because as you look at my photos, this is why they exist. They are windows into who I used to be, and into who I am. But I do not regret meeting my old friend or anything that happened. I believe we met for a reason, we parted for a reason, I had to do the things that happened after for a reason. And that if I am right, I will see my friend again someday for a reason. Because somehow, I just feel like my story ends where it started.

I also write it down for me. A million people have said a million things to me. Maybe they are right. But at least in this moment I can record something from me that helps remind me who I really am.

I am someone who can still be snarky, witty, funny, and sarcastic. Quick to a pop culture reference I can have whole random conversations where every reply includes the title of a song by the same artist just to see if the other person catches it. I still enjoy being randomly weird. I like singing in the car, making up songs in the moment about doing stupid things like changing my shirt or feeding the cat. I really enjoy my fantastic mixer and baking cookies or making waffles. Not eating so much, just baking. I believe that house cleaning, putting away groceries, and baking should be done to happy music. I like visiting the local comic book store even if I haven’t built up the courage to buy anything yet.

I like playing video games be they with a sci-fi or fantasy twist. But only as long as they remain fun and not become work. My goal is never to advance in the game, but to have the conversations I have with the people playing. If we win, it will be together. The ending does not matter if I play alone. I believe in owning only 1 television and not wasting my life in front it despite all the amazing sci-fi and fantasy shows. I enjoy deep conversations. The best parts of photo shoots are always conversations.

You will find I am someone who likes to collect enamel pins. Not necessarily sets or anything of value. And I do not wear them around. But I like having pins that remind me of things and I keep them in a display case. I have also found I really like bluesy rock music from people such as Buddy Guy, Keb’ Mo’, John Mayer, Marc Broussard, Beth Hart and Joe Bonamassa. That despite wearing mostly black you will find I usually have some sort of cat themed or nerd themed like Game of Thornes socks on. Because what’s life without whimsy?

               Someone who even though may not be the most courageous person in the room I am willing to take a risk in the moment if it betters others. While I do not always succeed at everything and learning to let go of some things has been hard, when I felt deep inside something was important, I am someone who does not give up on it. Not when it hurts. Not when others say to. Not when it has clearly kicked me down. Because I believe the fight is not over until I give up.

               While I have never been religious and I don’t know how much stock I put into holistic concepts like auras, ghosts, fate, past lives, the meanings of dreams, and so on, I do think there’s things in this world we don’t understand. Magic is just science we do not understand yet. We are built with instincts. And while I take it with a grain of salt, I do think that funny feelings, repeating dreams, and déjà vu, matters. Sometimes you need to just listen to what the world is telling you.

I am someone who believe that at least once a month I need to fully clean my house, particularly the kitchen and bathrooms back to a “zero” point. And that I do not like a cluttered garage just for storage. Hoarding junk for junk’s sake. You should know where a tool is and easily be able to get it. Everything has a home. But maybe that is just those Toyota Way classes I had to take.

I like the fact I have a job that is potentially a career. I have stable income from a company that is invested in me. I own a house, make car payments, standing on my own, work towards a retirement in that town where the hill was. I want my old age to be peanut butter milk shakes by the light house and taking comfort that even if we never speak my old friend is nearby.

I like that in my job I get to know what is going on with my company, I get to be responsible for my facility, make decisions, approve, and manage spending. That I get to be the guy people go to for answers (even if they are not always fun, I am honest). And that when in doubt I am the guy who gets things done. It is not my dream job, but I like what it gives me. And I have learned from any job that working full time gives me purpose. I hate just sitting at home with nothing to do.

I am someone who really does not like being mean, or having others be mean, just for mean sake. I also do not like trying to lie or argue my way out of a problem. I believe if I have done something wrong, I own up to it. I am likely to punish myself more for it than they anyways.  

And I like photography. I like exploring new places. I like talking to new people. I like trying to think of different setups or go hunting for what I think is a photo. I like getting the film back and feeling amazed when something works out. I love that mechanical feel of old film cameras with their cranks and ratchet advancements.

I still get lost from time to time. I still forget who I am, get insecure, and get anxious. There have been times when my overly analytical self has thought something to death and my mind races. Sometimes I still crawl back into my box of how I am a horrible monster and there is no one here to tell me no or help me back out. But slowly, I am becoming me again.

I have not forgotten my friend either. I still wear my side zip combat boots. I know that Mac and Cheese must be made with real cheese. That socks cannot be worn to bed because “feet were made to be free”. I am conscious of having ambient noise like a fan that is on but not necessarily cooling. Food does not have to be just for fuel and Chinese buffets, pies, raspberries, are all meant to be samples for textures and combinations. That there is a difference between “be right back” and “I’ve got to go” and not to leave people hanging. And of course, how to change the brakes on my car.

Obviously, my story is not yet over. I fully am thankful for everywhere I have been and everyone I have met. I do not regret any of the people I met along the way. Even if it was not always a pleasant experience. But I never forgot my old friend. I still believe I will end up on that hill again with someone. And I still feel like I just know some way, somehow, my story’s end is with them.

I know in part because if I am incredibly lucky, on the rare occasion I can extend my telescope to see my old friend on their boat. Taking their journey. And no matter who they are with or what they are doing, seeing their face or their work just makes me feel complete. Happy, sad; sometimes. But always complete. It makes whatever problems were bothering me that day go away. That it is all going to be okay.

I know because it is amazing to know they are okay. To see them happy even around someone else, just makes me feel like I can have a big smile that they are going to be happy and safe. And I know that one day our boats would meet again when we become who we needed to be at that part of the story. That I was built for them.

This is not a sad story. It is the story of how the worst thing I ever did to another person was the worst thing I ever did to myself. I forgot who I was. And it is the ongoing story of remembering who I am. Telling stories and sharing images. Until finally my ship makes its way back home.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy what you find here.

[weirdness-on-the-roof]

An open letter

Note: contains mentions of suicide.

If you need help call the national suicide hotline at 1-800-273-8255

An open letter to Tree,

I’ve been sitting here for quite some time thinking about how to start this, it feels like some great dead just to sit here and type. Firstly, happy 18th birthday Tree. Secondly, I hate today, we should be going to a movie or having a sleepover, eating cake and braiding hair. You definitely would be getting a tattoo as soon as possible, but I beat you to that, I wish you could see it. Its small, about one inch by one inch, a line goes across the bottom and a two person flatform tent is pitched, for my camp I love so much. Above the tent is an eight point star, or possibly a simple compass rose, either for traveling or the stars I want to see so badly.Then, closest to my heart is a pine tree. When people ask I tell them its for the pine trees in the meadow near my house or down Bow’s trail at camp, but you’d know the truth.

Eighth grade physical science, fall semester. Spirit week, camouflage day was officially the stupidest thing we had ever hear of, so we joked we’d just come as a tree and shrub respectively. You would be the tree, ‘tall and fluffy’, I agreed but I wish I had stopped you from calling yourself fluffy, I’d be the shrub, shorter and a little more prickly. We never did it, but the nicknames stuck. Mykayla the Tree and Anna the Shrub. You recorded Mr. Hall’s story about microwaving mice that year too, and we tormented Nick and Sebastian about anything we could. We talked so much Hall put me by Adrianna, which didn’t help since Sophie was now next to you. I wish we could go back to spring semester and listen to Hall drone about tectonic plates for six weeks. Or even further back to health class seventh grade year, you’d copy my notes and I’d braid your hair, together with the guys we’d make fun of the popular kids who thought they were the greatest things since sliced bread. We both knew that was, in fact, either the Percy Jackson series or sloths. Chronologically speaking, PJO would have one since slots predated sliced bread. Or bread in general. Hell, we could go back to second grade and my death-squeeze hugs and the Little Engine that could. I’d settle for ninth grade, too. I’d run so many laps just to have those ten minutes in the locker room talking about life. What we were going to do, how pompus the popular girls were, how not straight we were. I should have stuck up for you more that year, those girls were so cruel to all of us but I never really cared, most of you did, though. I’d rather have a note that said I punched one of them in my permanent record than everything they said.

Even now, three years later, I see one of them at Kroger or a football game and I think about what would happen if I decked one of them. It wouldn’t get anywhere, but its not like they ever get in trouble for anything.

I want to go back to the Bernie rallies and the Wildes trip and my sleepovers and the little moments in between. I regret so much from those years, Tree.

We’re applying for colleges in a few months. I got letters from EKU and SIU today. I wanna do aerospace engineering, Alice is gonna do something with biochem, Kat is wanted to do international business and Adrianna wants to teach English Lit. Carson and Cori have so clue. I saw Nick while I was taking my SATs and we didn’t speak. It was really awkward. Sebastian’s little brother is transfering to my new school.

I left Fairland after I got back from my exchange. Too much had changed- I couldn’t step back into that building without you. Not with you buried just up the road. I like my new school. My graduating class is just me and another kid, he is kinda a pain in the ass but he means well. I am on student government and I basically run the whole place at this point. I’m making sure this doesn’t happen again, at least not here. After you died a friend of mine was in and out of a mental hospital for a few months and I had really bad anxiety, I couldn’t bury another friend.

Writing all this out, there is so much I never got to tell you. I had my first kiss two months after you died. I had my first almost boyfriend a few months after that. Kat had her first kiss a few weeks before me. Alice did too, get this- it was her roommate at some science program. She is still a bit heart sick- the girl is from Puerto Rico so not close at all. Adrianna had a boyfriend for a bit last year, but it didn’t work out. Carson has been dating Ezra for a little over a year now, he is actually really nice and I don’t want to kill him, which is a change.

Cori had a bit of a rough patch. She still visits your grave every Wednesday. It will be two years next month. Ryan is doing okay I think. We talked a lot right after everything. I made him eat regularly and all that stuff. My way of coping was mother henning over your boyfriend. Ex boyfriend? Bleh. Well, he is moving up to Dayton with his fiance last I heard. We never met face to face but I still care for him when I can.

I got a hamster last week. Adrianna and I went to pride. Alice is going to China next summer to visit family. Kat got into K-Pop, so did Alice and Adrianna. I’m getting into DnD. I quit ballet. I won a karate tournament.

Oh, and get this. Sloths and llama are like a thing and you can get llama print everything. They’re fucking fashionable. You’d love it.

So Tree, I need to come out and say it. I’ve spent today crying my ass off and I miss you so fucking much. I loved you Tree. And you forgot that. You forgot that that love is unconditional. We all felt that way. You got hurt and didn’t let us help. I am so sorry that for whatever reason you felt we wouldn’t have been with you. It was your choice, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest enough with you to tell you I’d been in the same place years before. You weren’t alone, and your pain wasn’t going to make us leave you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I loved you every night and that I wasn’t strong enough to be honest with all of you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when, even though you didn’t know it, you were there for me. I’m sorry for the times I dragged you away from the mean kids instead of screaming at them. I’m sorry I let the admin at school ignore your cries and everyone else’s. I’m sorry I didn’t read more of your poems. I’m sorry that the world was so cruel to you. I’m sorry that there was a shotgun in your house. I’m sorry you died alone in a bathtub thinking it was the only time there would be people around to miss you. 

I’m sorry I hate you.

I hate you because Adrianna doesn’t dream anymore. I hate you because Katrina gets mad now. I hate you because Alice freezes anytime someone mentions you. I hate you because Carson had to lend people band shirts for your funeral, just like you asked. I hate you because Cori was alone. I hate you because Ryan almost followed you. I hate you because the school released balloons for you. You always ranted about balloons killing turtles, they didn’t listen when we told them. I hate you because Haley can see the graveyard you’re buried in from her porch. I hate you because Nick never said goodbye. I hate you because Sebastian feels guilty. I hate you because Sophie added you to her instagram bio, right next to her dad. I hate you because Nicole had just lost her sister months before. I hate you because your mom found you. I hate you because my mom brought rainbow ribbon to your funeral. I hate you because I can’t step foot on those school grounds anymore. I hate you because I was alone on the other side of the planet when you killed yourself and there weren’t flights back in time for your funeral. I hate you because I still don’t have the courage to visit your grave. I hate you because I had already bought you a necklace. I hate you because you forgot how much you meant to us. I hate you because you broke our group. I hate you because its your birthday and you’re not here for it.

I hate you because we should have had decades together. You should have been there for my welcome back party. You should have been there for Carson’s Christmas party. You should have gone to prom with all of us.We should be talking about colleges and taking senior pictures, all of us, together. You should have been here for graduation in a few months. You should have been sitting in the audience when I get married, not an empty chair. You should have gotten married, and I would have been there, rain or shine. You should have gotten your poems published. You should have read the new Riordan books with me, slow reader as you are. We could have watched Shadowhunters together.

I hate you for thinking our friendship was temporary. I hate you for cutting our time short.

Happy birthday, Tree. I love you so much and I miss you more than I could express.- Shrub