#nancy writes in tags

[whomst-the-hell]

The babysitters’ club, as the older members of the upside down crew have dubbed themselves, meet at least once a week. Sometimes it’s only a few hours, just long enough to watch a movie together, to confirm that everyone is still alive and coping. Sometimes it’s all night, and Argyle plies them all with good California weed while they attempt to work through their collective truckloads of trauma.

Sometimes, like tonight, they spend it goofing off and having fun like the dumb kids many of them couldn’t afford to be.

They’re gathered in a circle at the Harrington mansion, deserted as always, playing truth or dare. Nancy has just admitted to smoking weed in her freshman year, in the drama room with Barbara Holland, and she has set her know it all, meddling, journalist eyes on Eddie.

“Truth or dare,” she asks, a challenge clear on her face.

Eddie knows that, with most people, picking truth may be seen as the cowardly option. With Nancy, that couldn’t be more wrong. If he picks dare, he will be safe, but he will be mocked relentlessly by every single person in the room.

…

“Truth,” he sighs reluctantly.

“Who-” she pauses dramatically for effect, a theatrical detail that Eddie honestly respects, even if it fills him with dread, “-was your most embarrassing crush! And it has to be a person we know, no celebrities allowed!”

Shit.

He feels his eyes dart to Steve. Nancy smirks. Bitch. He can’t even lie about it then.

Time to face the music, he supposes mournfully.

“I would like to say, for the record, that I was in junior year, ok. And, in retrospect, with the knowledge I have now, it’s not even that bad, but at the time-“

“Spit it out, Munson,” says Robin, the fucking traitor.

“IhadacrushonSteve,” he says, all in one breath.

“What was that, dude, I didn’t catch it?” Argyle says, voice mellow. Eddie honestly doesn’t know if he’s in on this or not, but he glowers all the same.

Face red, he repeats, “I had a crush on Steve.” He resolutely does not look at Steve.

“No you didn’t!” Steve responds, immediately, aghast.

Eddie can feel his heart tearing in two.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Harrington, this was years ag-“

“You literally rejected me!”

Fucking what.

He knows he must look ridiculous right now, mouth hanging open, cheeks still red with embarrassment, but he does not have the capacity to care.

“Wh- what do you- huh?” he finally manages.

“When you were in junior year, and I was a sophomore? We were lab partners-“

And ohhh, hadn’t that just been sweet, sweet torture. Pretty, perfect Harrington had had to sit next to him all semester, where Eddie could see his freckles and smell his cologne, but-

“You spent the whole semester making fun of me!”

“What the fuck are you talking about, man?” says Steve, eyebrows furrowed in that way he does that makes Eddie want to kiss his forehead and- Fucking focus, Munson.

“You always used to make passive aggressive comments about my clothes, or my hair, or my books or whatever!”

Steve buries his face in his hands and groans.

“I wasn’t being passive aggressive.”

“You- what the fuck do you mean, you weren’t being passive aggressive! Why else would you have said any of that shit?”

“Because I meant it?”

Because he- what? Eddie played back as many of their interactions from that year as he could remember. I like your jacket, Steve had said when Eddie had started putting patches on his denim vest. Your hair looks nice today, he had said when Eddie had tied it back to beat the heat. Oh, that sounds interesting, when Eddie described the plot of the book he was reading.

“Oh my god, you were flirting with me.”

“No shit! I once told you you had really pretty eyes!“

“I thought you were bullying me!”

“How on Earth could ‘I think you have really pretty eyes’ be bullying?”

“I don’t know! It made more sense than it being flirting!”

“I asked you to go to the drive in with me! That is the most classic first date in the book!”

Holy shit, Steve Harrington had asked him out. Steve Harrington had asked him out and he’d said no. This was the worst day of Eddie’s life.

His face must have looked some kind of way, because Steve just groaned again. He sat there for a second before peeking up from behind his hands, a move that should not have been as cute as it was, what the fuck.

“If I tried again now, would you still think I was bullying you.”

Holy shit did Steve Harrington want to date him? This had to be a trick or a prank or something, right?

Except that he’d thought that in junior year as well, and apparently it had cost him a boyfriend, so.

“No- nope, I would definitely pick up on it, uh huh. Definitely,” he said in a rush. God, he was normally so good with words, fuck.

Steve emerged fully from his hands, face pink but expression determined.

“Eddie Munson, would you like to go to the drive in with me? They’re playing Jaws next saturday and I’d love to watch it with you.”

“Absolutely, Stevie. It’s a date.”

There are groans from the rest of their friends as they rifle through their pockets, each passing money to a very smug looking Nancy.

[nburkhardt]

There’s something off about Steve and Dustin can’t place it.

Ever since they got back from the upside down, Steve seems more… not better but more, relaxed? Comfortable? He doesn’t know exactly, just something different.

It’s not like Dustin has never seen Steve relaxed, he’s been over at his house sitting next to his cat and listening to his mom explain how to make the perfect fettuccine dish. Steve is already comfortable around him to be bitchy to him, calling out Dustin’s shit immediately.

This? This is different.

Steve is on the grass laying down, arms behind his head and legs crossed. He looks like he could be asleep but Dustin watches as Steve shakes his foot and sees his mouth twitch at whatever Eddie’s whispering in his ear next to him. Robin laughing on Steve’s other side, her feet resting on Steve’s legs.

Dustin can tell there’s a difference between how Steve is acting now versus how Steve is normally relaxed.

Something is different and he needs to know what it is and how he can make sure his best friend big brother is always this… whatever it is. He deserves it.

“Are you trying to explode them? Isn’t that El’s thing?”

He startles and looks over at Nancy, she’s standing there with silent judgment; Dustin has seen that look on Mike many times, even if he knows both Wheel isn’t afraid to voice their judgment either.

Looking back at the trio, Robin now laying down with her head on Steve’s stomach and Eddie mirroring Steve.

“No,” he answers and looks back at Nancy to find her now looking curiously at the trio, “Just wondering what’s up with Steve”

Nancy snaps her attention back to him and opens her mouth before closing it again, looking at the trio; looking at Steve. “He’s comfortable-”

“Yeah I know that, I want to know what’s up with this other- whatever it is.” He snaps, crossing his arms, “that’s more- he’s been like this since we all got back.”

She nods, quickly looking over again before sitting next to him, “I think, he’s safe.”

“Of course he’s safe! We defeated Vecna!” He doesn’t snap, but it’s bitchy and Nancy rolls her eyes at him, before looking back at the trio.

“I mean, he feels safer now. As in, he’s not on guard all the time. He can lay there with his eyes closed, with no weapon or walkie within reach. He’s not only comfortable and safe, he’s- Steve’s happy” Nancy explains and looks at him, going to cross her arms before letting them fall again, “with the upside down behind us, all of us are okay and here- so Steve’s happy and safe”

It makes him blink, dropping his own arms before looking back at Steve. He’s got to be asleep now, with the way his foot isn’t moving now and how Eddie and Robin are also not moving.

“You’ve never actually seen him like this have you?”

He goes to nod, only to realize that, no; no he hasn’t.

Sure, Steve looked relaxed sitting on his couch but now that Dustin’s thinking about it, Steve was twitchy. That he had a leg bouncing and how he picked the one spot that has view of every part of the room. He knows that Steve keeps the nail bat in his car, that it goes inside with him at home and work.

And now that it’s in his head, Dustin can see all the ways Steve was and how Steve is now.

Steve is content and for the first time in years, he is safe.

~

Uh. This wasn’t supposed to go like this? I was going to make this a thing involving Eddie’s necklace but this came out instead 🤷‍♀️

for me there’s a major difference between content and comfortable. Like, you can be comfortable but still on the edge you know what I mean??? But when you’re content… it’s just better?? Idk what trying to say. ANYWAY!!! This is Dustin wanting Steve like this always and hoping to like bottle it up lol.

Also this takes place after spring break, they defeated Vecna. Like a few months after. It’s also pre-steddie, because of course it is.

Taglist (if you want to be added let me know!)

@spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @bookworm0690 @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @grimmfitzz @strangersteddierthings

[riality-check]

“What was it like? When you and Steve were together?” Eddie asks.

Nancy’s face takes on a grave seriousness that, honestly, scares the shit out of him. She’s Nancy Wheeler, and she’s always serious, but this is the kind of serious she gets when Eddie’s seen her talk about how awful the Hawkins Post is or the best way to aim for the kill.

This is Nancy Wheeler at her most serious. If Eddie were a lesser man, he’d be shaking in his boots. Instead, he’s only slightly aware of the way his feet are going numb in his high tops.

“Loving Steve is the easiest thing you’ll ever do,” she says. “And he’s going to find it so easy to love you back, because that’s what he does.”

Eddie wants to nod or say something to acknowledge that, but he doesn’t. He keeps sitting on the couch next to Nancy and waits for her to continue after she takes a sip of her Coke.

“Being loved by Steve is the hard part. He’s going to see you in a way that doesn’t line up with how you see yourself.”

She takes a deep breath. Unlike Eddie’s, hers doesn’t rattle in her lungs.

Straightedge.

“Because he is only ever going to see the best parts of you, and he is going to love them with everything he has.”

She looks at him for the first time. “Do you understand?”

Eddie nods, and he wants to leave it at that. Instead, he opens his mouth and asks, “Do you think you’d still be together? If it weren’t for the monsters?”

Nancy downs the rest of her Coke like a shot. Maybe she wishes that’s what it was.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what could have been, but I do know we’re different people now.”

“Okay.”

“I think,” Nancy says, because she’s not done and she’s a hell of a lot better with her words than Eddie is, “that people want what they didn’t have growing up. I want to make it big and get noticed and get the hell out. And Steve wants things that are big for him but little for me.”

She levels Eddie another look. Her big eyes are imploring.

Do you understand? they ask. Do you blame me?

Yes, Eddie thinks. No.

“So, as long as you can handle him loving you, and if you want the same things, I think you’ll be fine.”

“Just fine?” Eddie asks, trying to bring some levity back.

Nancy smiles for the first time. “More than fine. You’ll be better to him than I was.”

And with that, she gets off the couch and leaves Eddie alone.

[graysonnightwing]

Please be honest in all of your answers.

1. Will you ever be free from your guilt? Circle your answer. a) Yes b) No c) I have traveled to other dimensions trying to rid myself of this weight upon my chest. Nothing has ever worked.

2. How else could this have ended? a) I only wanted to spend a night with a boy. b) I never expected to be left behind. c) No one does.

3. Barbara is 15 years, 10 months, and 4 days old. You are 15 years, 7 months, and 3 days old. If she dies on a Tuesday, and you stop looking for her on a Saturday, how old will you be when you let her go? Please answer clearly, in full sentences.

(Not a correct answer: There will never come a time when I don't pick up the phone hoping to hear her voice on the other end.)

4. Define two (2): BFFs | The feeling of a revolver heavy in your hand and the ringing in your ears from firing it | Demogorgon | The way the world collapsed when Hopper and Joyce did not bring her back

5. True or False: i. You heard something that night. ___ ii. The monster's claws and teeth were the last thing she ever felt, while you were upstairs being held with gentle hands. ___ iii. You wish it had been you. ___ iv. You lie to her grieving parents every week. ___ v. They believe you. ___ i. You hunt the one that killed her, but you'll never bring her back from the dead. ___ vii. You told her to go home. ___

-nancy this isn't you (format inspired by x)

[patheticgirlsteve]

Steve holds onto everything his friends give him like they’re sacred items, and to him they really are.

He wears the friendship bracelet that El made for him everyday, he never takes it off because that’s bad luck.

He keeps the keychain that Max made for him with his car keys always. It’s bright yellow and green and helps him spot his keys quickly when he’s searching for them in the house.

When his walkie breaks, he asks Dustin to repair it for him instead of going out to get a new one.

He keeps all the tickets from all of Lucas’ basketball games, putting them in his drawer in his desk for safekeeping.

He hangs up every piece of art that Will makes for him. He cries when he moves into his new apartment and Will gives him a painting of their whole family as a housewarming gift.

He keeps the folded paper airplane that Mike throws at him unprompted and for no reason in the middle of one of their movie nights, even though it gives him a paper cut.

He keeps the sparkly hair tie that Erica flings at him in annoyance when he interrupts their DnD session during a particularly intense moment.

He keeps the programs from everyone’s graduation ceremonies, both high school and college. And grad school when Nancy and Robin both eventually get their post grad degrees.

He wears out the book on tape that Nancy sends him from listening to it so many times.

His home is filled to the brim with all of the stuff Robin just leaves lying around. She treats his apartment like it’s her own, even though she doesn’t actually live there.

He keeps all of the pictures that Jonathan sends him from his travels, El helps him put them together into a scrapbook.

And from Eddie? Well, of course Steve keeps all of Eddie’s stuff in his home, they live together. All of the little trinkets that Eddie gave him before they started dating (cool rocks, fortune cookie papers, drawings on scraps of notebook paper, etc.) all live on a shelf in their bedroom. Eddie keeps adding to it after they get together. The collection has grown to include pressed flowers, love letters, and even more cool rocks.

[steddieasitgoes]

Inspired by the tags I left on @phoenicae poll about our favorite way Eddie didn't die.

I know we all headcanon Steve being the one to carry Eddie out of the Upside Down when they make it back in time after defeating Vecna but consider:

Steve's own body is giving out on him. He's bleeding through the makeshift bandages Nancy fitted him with from all the running they've done getting back to Forest Hills. He's woozy and lightheaded and relying too much on Robin to keep him upright as they finally make it through the woods and spot Dustin and Eddie in the distance.

Dustin is crying, yelling about how Eddie still has a pulse and they can't leave him here, and Steve tries his best to suck up his own pain. Tells Dustin he'll get Eddie back through, but when he bends down to hoist Eddie up, his own knees give out and his vision blacks out.

There's more yelling and pulling, and before Steve knows it, he's being fully supported by Robin. Dustin hobbling behind them.

"We can't leave Eddie," he shouts, glancing over his shoulder as Robin guides him to Eddie's trailer door.

"Nancy's got him, come on!" she shouts, pulling him faster.

And then there's Nancy.

So-called priss Nancy Wheeler.

Nancy Wheeler, who lost Barb, her best friend, to the Upside Down three years ago.

Nancy Wheeler, who lost her classmate and friend Fred days ago because of the Upside Down.

Nancy Wheeler, who just spent several days keeping Eddie safe from a misguided witchhunt that is all the Upside Down's fault.

The same Nancy Wheeler who shot rounds and rounds of bullets through the monster controlling the Upside Down minutes ago.

Nancy Wheeler has been here before.

She's seen what the Upside Down does to a person.

Knows first-hand what it does to the people who get to escape while others don't.

Nancy Wheeler has lived with survivor's guilt for three fucking years.

And she's not going to let Dustin, her favorite of Mike's friends, have to learn what that survivor's guilt feels like.

She's not going to let another one of her friends die because of this place.

Not on her watch.

So, she drops to her knees and gets to work. Stars ripping her shirt to wrap around the worse of Eddie’s wounds, hoping it’ll keep some of the blood in. Eddie winces in pain and it’s the most beautiful sound Nancy’s ever heard because it means he’s still alive. 

“Come on, Eddie. Stay with me okay?” 

She’s left in just her bra when she finishes bandaging him up as best she can. His blood is already soaking through the cotton material and she can hear Robin shouting for her from inside the trailer. 

There’s no time to waste. 

She takes a deep breath, plants her feet and slowly hoists Eddie into her arms. His screams are defending but she tunes them out, running towards the trailer with all the energy she has left in her. 

“M’sorry, I thought you were a priss,” Eddie chokes out, blood oozing from his mouth. “You’re b-b-badass.” 

“You’re pretty badass yourself,” she says as she takes the stairs to the trailer two at a time. “Maybe when all this is done we can be badass together.” 

Eddie hums noncommittally as his eyes start to flutter and Nancy kicks herself into high gear. She manages to get him to clasp his hands around her neck, positions him so he’s on her back and starts climbing the rope. When they flip through, Nancy makes sure to turn their bodies so she absorbs the brunt of the fall, Eddie falling limply on her back with little protest. 

Nancy only has a moment to catch her breath before the door flies open and she’s following a dying Eddie into the back of an ambulance. Robin and Dustin piling into the ambulance for Steve. 

Days later when Hopper asks Nancy how the hell she carried Eddie through a gate in the ceiling, she shrugs. 

“I guess it’s like those moms who lift cars off their kids. I just did it.” 

“It’s because she’s badass,” Eddie supplies instead. “Badass Nancy Wheeler.” 

[figthefruitfaeth]

season 2 stancy and the trauma leading up to the breakup haunts me cause like--they are two sides of the same fucking coin. 

barb dies. there’s no warning, nothing smart, good girl nancy could’ve done. she just dies, and there’s no way to prove it, no body to show, no car, no adult who will listen. she died because nancy didn’t go home on a school night, because nancy had a beer and had barb try one too, because she jumped in the pool and slept with her boyfriend. barb died because nancy took the night off. nancy--standing in the early morning light in her boyfriend’s hoodie, looking around for her best friend and knowing deep in her bones something is wrong--dies that day too.

a girl dies in his pool. barb, nancy’s friend. he didn’t know her except through nancy, wouldn’t have been able to pick her out of a lineup and now she’ll always be in his house, he’ll always see some outline of her sitting there from his bedroom window--an outline too hazy to pick out detail and too solid to deny because king steve didn’t hang out with her crowd but new okay human being steve can’t ignore her either. barb died because he wasn’t a good person, because he cared, but not enough. steve--byers’ bruises along his temple and nail bat in his hand--dies that day too.

so nancy grows up too quick too fast, learns that anything good has to be hard to get or it’s bullshit, doesn’t make new friends doesn’t get tied down to more than what’s leftover--steve, who ties himself to everything, who embeds himself in the role of loving, caring boyfriend and babysitter and the fun high school senior, cause what else does he have?

and they love each other, they do, but they can’t see each other. steve--eyes shut tight, hoping if he doesn’t look maybe he can blip right over it, maybe they can both still be stupid teenagers who love each other, and nancy--looking straight ahead, still looking for barb because she never found a body and only ever seeing the stupid, naive nancy in her stupid, jerk boyfriend’s hoodie. and they can’t see each other, and more than that, even if could, they wouldn’t, they won’t. they won’t.

they’re both stuck in the same burning house, but where one of them is trying to run out, popping back in another door every time she gets just far enough, the other is running in turning the locks and shutting the windows tight. and it’s still burning. it’s still burning.

barb dies in the pool and nobody lives.

[snowangeldotmp3]

what was i made for?

part one: i used to know, but i'm not sure now (what i was made for)

summary:

Nancy Wheeler dies on a cold November night in the gym of Hawkins Middle. She dies with three simple words. Gone. Gone. Gone.

[findafight]

In my on going journey to find a fic where Jonathan and Nancy at least talk through if not fight about how Jonathan has been treating and lying to her, and the way she was looking at/flirting with Steve in s4 I have found that, with the majority of these few fics, Jonathan’s choice to not tell Nancy is framed as him being noble or making a sacrifice for her. That he is breaking up with her to avoid making her miserable.

This is fascinating to me because while I now think they should for sure break up, I went into st4 pretty neutral on jancy, and thought everything Jonathan was saying was cowardly. I think HE thinks he’s making some noble sacrifice for Nancy’s sake, but he is not letting Nancy know about it nor is he letting her decide what she wants (to stay with him or to breakup) based on the actual facts of what Jonathan is doing/will go for college. He’s just. Letting her wonder why he’s being avoidant and distant, worrying about weather he loves her still (which is partly why her eyes wonder in s4).

Jonathan isn’t breaking up with her. The whole point of his rant to argyle is that he ISN’T breaking up with Nancy. He’s avoiding her so he doesn’t “trap” her. He’s already lied to her about applying to the university she thinks they’re going to together and so he barely talks to her and starts they are in a “slow-mo breakup”. It seems like he is avoiding talking to her in the twisted hope that she breaks up with him, because he cannot bear to do it. He’s already trapping her in this relationship he’s so terrified of.

Nancy does not know what is going on in his head. All she knows is her boyfriend is avoiding her. Cancelling plans or calls. To the point where she thinks there is a possibility (however small) he might be cheating on her. That’s not a good place for a relationship to be! Why would she think what he has done is admirable and self sacrificial when she has been suffering due to his actions and choices and the assumptions he’s made about their relationship and future without asking her? Why would she feel he did what he thought was right when she has been kept in the dark and lied to, openly, and mislead about their supposed shared future plans? When he was too nervous to talk to her plainly about his worries and fears so instead let them dictate how he treated her.

Jonathan cannot be open and honest to Nancy because of his fears, but also because of that same fear he doesn’t rip the bandaid off. He cannot be the one to breakup with Nancy because if he is, he is definitely the bad guy. If he breaks up with her, he shatters any semblance of the idea that he is in the right, that he is making a sacrifice by not letting Nancy hypothetically make one. And he doesn’t want to examine himself or his actions that would make it abundantly clear what he’s done wrong.

By forcing Nancy into a position where she is unsure of the strength of their relationship, where she doesn’t have all the information to actually make the decision about the future he assumes she will make (that she is actually unlikely to make) he is doing what he fears he would be if he was honest about college. Trapping her in a relationship where they eventually grow to resent each other.

And idk. Im honestly surprised this isn’t a more widespread assumption? That Jonathan is being cowardly for lying? But it isn’t? Posing Jonathan refusing to communicate with his girlfriend as noble while she has actively questioned his loyalty to her, seems kind of cruel to Nancy. Sure maybe she hasn’t communicated enough to him, but has he let her? He is making these assumptions and decisions that impact their future together and he doesn’t discuss it with her because he doesn’t want to ruin her life (or, more likely, either remain in a LDR or get broken up with, the latter seeming more likely every day he lies.) That seems cowardly to me.

[nancys-braids]

writing patterns

thank you to @carlos-in-glasses @bonheur-cafe and @reyesstrand for the tags! <3

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

be still, my foolish heart

Nancy stared down at her plate, the type of gazing into space where everything else in the room feels obsolete, fixating on her slice of pizza, trying everything in her power to not feel this sense of crushing pressure. 

stay close to those who feel like sunlight

Mateo left, leaving Nancy on the bench in the locker room. It’s my fault, she thought. If I had just kept my mouth shut, maybe he’d still be alive. 

bound by love; united forever

TK opened his eyes and groaned, rolling over to kiss his husband only to be greeted by an empty space on Carlos’s side of the bed.

all of my wildest dreams end up with you and me

After a long, grueling, twelve-hour shift, TK walked through the door into the loft he shared with his husband to a beautiful picture. 

like a bird set free

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. 

soulmates aren't just lovers

Nancy flopped onto her new, laughably small bed with a purple sheet set and comforter. 

kiss it better baby

Nancy unlocked the door to their apartment and motioned for Marjan to head in the door first.

i miss you in the mornings when i see the sun

He didn’t know what to think. 

love and libraries

Nancy opened her eyes and rolled over to check her phone. 

in paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams

TK sat on the couch in the loft, ready to rip his hair out. 

Consensus? either setting the scene or showing a character's internal thoughts i guess. i think we also see a trend here of me getting more descriptive as we go from the newest fics to older. gah. *crawls in a hole to not think about my older fics*

no pressure tagging @captain-gillian @your-catfish-friend @pelorsdyke @americansrequiems @literateowl + open tag! :)

[dontcallmeeds]

I saw a twitter thread that was giving reasons for Nancy Wheeler being a lesbian and I gotta say, I agree. At least that Nancy is NOT straight. The way she interacts with Barb….dude, do you know how many of the stairs conversations (from season one before Barb disappears) I’ve had with friends who were secretly seeing me??? The whole “this isn’t you” after Nancy lies about where she’s going and the way she reacts with her facial expressions…..bro, they’ve kissed before. This has been said a million times here and otherwise since season one.

But with the level of grief and guilt she goes through in season two, I’m seeing that right now in myself as someone who just had one of their best friends pass away suddenly who was also an ex. The whole “bullshit” Stancy Halloween fight could be chalked up to grief and liking Jonathan sure, but I think it’s way more than that. I think she’s calling everything bullshit including herself because she lost the one person who saw her, someone she loved more than just platonically.

Then season three is mostly just her fighting with Jonathan if you really think about it, because she wants to be more than just a sandwich girl at Hawkins Post. Someone Barb would be proud of. We only see her really happy with Jonathan in season three when they wake up late and she sneaks out and the soft moment they have at the end when he’s leaving. Other than that they’re either fighting with each other or fighting monsters. Robin calls her a “priss,” but before Steve she was just kind of a…nerd. Like Robin. Maybe they ran in the same circles? We know they don’t know each other in person, at least Nancy doesn’t know HER.

FOLLOW ME HERE: What if Robin knew Barb?? What if Barb confided in her that she had feelings for Nancy, but that Nancy was dating Steve and we know how hard Robin goes for her friends so she just made this assumption that Nancy is a priss????

Then season four of course, we see Nancy not going to California. She’s frustrated that Jonathan wouldn’t be coming and she stayed for the basketball game for her front page news right?? Why didn’t she take another flight hmmm??? And we think she’s jealous of Robin, but what if she was jealous of Steve??? Because we don’t really have indication that Steve and Nancy have spent much time around each other since summer ‘85…but Robin and Nancy go to school together. Robin is in band which means they’re in the same room *hypothetically* for the important games that Nancy needs to document. We don’t know how many games Steve went to besides the one, he could’ve been working on some of those games or on dates. So ipso facto, Robin and Nancy have (probably) been in the same room more than Steve and Nancy….why would she suddenly be jealous of ROBIN???

And you can see her genuinely enjoying being around Robin after her monologue at the psych ward when she was being “annoyed” and “on edge” with her before that. I don’t see that as “oh well she started considering her a friend” I think she had a crush, she was on edge because she had lost Barb and didn’t want to feel that way about another girl. But the monologue relaxes her because she realized Robin is just as unhinged as she is, but in a different way. Because Nancy Wheeler is IMPULSIVE. She’s smarter than hell, but she is so careless with her own safety.

Also every time the Bylers shippers contrast the Wheeler siblings really they’re just giving us Nancy Wheeler is gay proof too. Because look at their similar behaviors. They fight and bicker in a way that says “i know what you are, NO I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE”

NOT VERY STRAIGHT IF YOU ASK ME.

Also, while I now understand my attraction to men is because I was a queer trans dude the entire time, I used to think it was comphet. But everything I feel about men is different than the way Nancy feels about men. It feels forced, it feels like she thinks she HAS to have a boyfriend and HAS to force a real connection with them. COMP. MOTHERFUCKIN. HET.

In conclusion, for the love of god, let Nancy Wheeler kiss girls. Natalia wants it, the fans want it. Give us a SMOOCH.

[sugdenlovesdingle]

Seven Sentence Sunday (times two!)

thanks for the tag @sznofthesticks @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @welcometololaland

As usual I have way too many fics on the go and i need motivation and inspiration to actually finish some of them sometime this century... so here's two snippets from two fics

---

Nancy/Marjan

"Come home with me after shift."

"What? Are you sure?"

Marjan nodded, looking down at their joint hands for a moment before meeting Nancy's eyes again.

"Never been more sure. I just... I want to be with you... I want to wake up next to you tomorrow, I want to find out what you're like first thing in the morning, I want to know what you like for breakfast... I just want you."

"You have me." Nancy promised. "I've kind of had a thing for you since the first time you walked through those doors downstairs and announced you were here to see Owen Strand. I'm not letting you go now."

"Really?" Marjan asked. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes but at the same time it thrilled her to know Nancy had liked her for that long.

"Yeah. You were all confident and badass... and beautiful." Nancy leaned down to kiss her.

They were usually more careful when they were at work, and maybe it was the nice weather they'd been having, the fact that Marjan had pulled off another ridiculously risky stunt but was fine, the two days off they had coming up, or maybe it was just that they were still in the honeymoon stage of their relationship and just wanted to kiss each other every chance they got, but they let themselves get lost in the kiss and completely forgot where they were.

Until the door opened and someone walked in.

"Woah, shit, sorry! I didn't see anything!" Paul announced loudly, covering his eyes as the two women jumped apart.

"Paul! What are you doing here?!" Marjan hissed.

"I just wanted to gather my stuff so I won't have to do it when shift is over. But clearly you're busy in here so I'll just..." he trailed off and felt around for the door handle.

----

Buck/Tommy

(technically Buck & his firefam but - details)

“Morning. What are we talking about, mister... Kinard…” Eddie trailed off. “Are you two becoming one of those couples now? Is Tommy walking around with Buckley on his back?”

Buck grinned and raised an eyebrow at his best friend.

“No. Nope. Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.” Eddie warned him quickly, holding up his hand as if that would stop Buck from talking. 

“I mean… he’s probably still in bed… so he’s not wearing much of anything right now.” Buck grinned and sat down at the table next to Hen while Eddie groaned and muttered something under his breath about never being friends with couples.

“Did you know?” Hen asked Eddie when he joined them at the table.

“Know what?”

Hen grabbed Buck’s left hand and showed Eddie his ring.

“You asked him? I thought you wanted to wait until the party?”

“Yeah… but then I picked him up from work last week… and I just couldn’t wait.” Buck smiled. “When you know, you know, right?”

“Hmm.” Eddie agreed as he focused on his coffee.

“So you knew?” Hen asked again.

“Yeah. I helped him pick out the ring.” Eddie shrugged. “And when I say helped I mean apologised to the woman in the store who had to show him every ring they had at least twice, before he eventually bought the first one she'd shown him. He's banned from the place for life now." he joked. "I didn’t know he was going to propose now though.”

---

tagging @carlos-in-glasses @bonheur-cafe @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @oldfangirl81 @your-catfish-friend

@chicgeekgirl89 @lemonlyman-dotcom @sanjuwrites + open tag for whoever wants to share something

[shares-a-vest]

A sequel to THIS Steddie ficlet but you don't really have to have read it.

Nancy finishes up signing her name with a flourish on the inside of the greeting card she’d bought for Robin for Valentine’s Day. She sets her red sparkly gel pen down on the desk and admires her work. Excellent. Perfectly balanced cursive writing and not a mistake in sight. Poetic and just a little naughty - nothing like Eddie’s card that she had had the displeasure of seeing in full view on the floor of Family Video.

At least it was spirited, unique and honest.

But her card still feels like it’s missing something.

She lifts the card to her lips and stops just short of leaving a lipstick stain on it. Robin probably won’t like that. She’d say something about someone having their mouth all over her Valentine’s Day card, even if it is her own girlfriend.

She looks around at her dresser and contemplates spraying the card with perfume. But she scrunches her nose, thinking Robin probably wouldn’t like a strong scent coming from it either. Turning back to her desk, she decides on a few hand-drawn flowers sprinkled over the inside of the card. Robin will surely give her something handmade (as she always does).

Using a pink marker pen, Nancy carefully surrounds her writing with daisies in varying sizes, the easiest flower for her to draw somewhat competently. As she goes, she inches closer and closer to the surface of her desk, tongue poking out in concentration as she begins adding a peppering of little stars too.

“Um, Nancy?”

She makes what can only be described as a mouse-like squeak noise at the sound of Mike’s interruption. She clutches the marker in her hand, stopping herself from smearing it across Robin’s card. She carefully lifts her hand from the cardstock and clips the cap safely onto the pink marker before spinning around to find Mike lingering at her bedroom door.

“What?” she asks, unable to hide her frustration.

“Are you leaving yet?” he asks, bounding into her bedroom and looking like he's rearing to go somewhere.

Somewhere that presumably requires her to drive him.

“Soon,” she says, giving her brother a tight-lipped, sarcastic smile.

“Can you drive me to Hop’s?” he asks, picking at the bottom seam of his Hellfire shirt.

“Spending the evening with Will, are we?” she teases.

Mike groans and flops back on her bed, sending a pink decorative cushion toppling off the edge where it wedges itself between the mattress and side table.

“I have a card to give him,” he says, staring at the ceiling.

“Good,” she smiles and decides she should probably set aside her card to help out the lump currently sighing and squirming (and messing up the bedspread) on her bed. “You aren’t planning on wearing that, are you?”

Mike rolls onto his stomach to look at her with a look of complete incredulity. Or maybe it’s cluelessness.

Admittedly, that came out meaner and more accusatory than she meant it.

She sighs. Of course, Mike doesn’t know that on Valentine's Day maybe he shouldn’t wear his nerd uniform.

“Just… Anything but that,” she says, even though that doesn’t seem to help either.

Her brother just blinks, kicking his feet.

So she stands up with a huff and gestures to the door. Mike stands and looks her up and down, suspicious.

“You are going to help me pick out something?” he asks, dumbfounded. “For Valentine’s Day? To wear to Will’s house?”

“And politely make suggestions about what you could do that doesn’t involve hanging out in an overcrowded cabin reading comic books, yes.”

And that’s how Nancy spends part of her night chauffeuring around Mike and Will. First picking up Robin, negotiating the change of plans with much protest. Then heading out to the Hooper-Byers’ cabin to pick Will up. Then driving them to the diner which the boys had to settle for because there was no way Nancy was going to have them in Enzo’s a table away from her and Robin. And she wasn't giving up any of her money to Mike, either. Nor did she want to drop them off at the pizza parlour which is where she knew Steve and Eddie would be at some point.

She finally pulls into the car park beside Enzo’s and cuts the engine.

“So,” she starts, clicking off her seatbelt and turning to her date, beaming.

“So?” Robin echos, trying to look inside the restaurant windows.

“I have a card for you,” Nancy says and reaches around to fish in the back for her handbag.

She feels around for it and finds it has been kicked under the passenger’s seat.

“Oh no!” she exclaims and Robin whips around, reaching for it with ease.

“What is it?” she asks, mirroring Nancy’s panic as she hands her the bag.

“Your card!” she says, sniffling. 

Nancy is a little surprised that she's this upset about it. Even though it’s her own damn fault for leaving a soft-fabric bag in the vicinity of two fidgeting and oblivious fifteen-year-olds. She relents and hands the crinkled envelope to Robin.

She tries not to watch as Robin carefully opens it, looking the card over before flipping it open and reading it.

“Wow,” Robin says after a minute.

“You like it?” she says, wide-eyed and hopeful.

“This is so much better than Eddie’s card,” Robin says, giving a belated shudder.

Nancy tuts and rolls her eyes. Robin was so dramatic about Eddie’s card. Even after Steve read it fully, she couldn’t help herself from both scolding him for its contents and asking him for details.

“Not the reaction I wanted,” Nancy sighs, looking at her feet.

She looks over the floor mats and thinks about how her car is in desperate need of a cleaning as she scuffs a pebble under her flats. She only breaks away from her stray thought as Robin shuffles through the ridiculously large handbag at her feet.

“Here!” she declares, holding up a crumpled envelope in victory and promptly hands it over. “Eddie, I loathe to admit, inspired a similarly flirtatious greeting card. Although mine is far less eloquent than yours. Somewhere between the obscenity of Poet Munson and Romanticist Wheeler.”

[imfinereallyy]

For the dialogue prompts steddie #14

Ask, and you shall receive :) from the dialogue prompts found here

14. “I know you’re the president of the Anti-Social Club, but why don’t you join me?”

_____

Steve couldn't believe he had agreed to this. He was in hell, for sure. Steve would take the Upside Down over being back here in Hawkins High. But he just couldn't say no to Robin. He had begun to think it was near impossible to say no to her. Especially when her voice got raspy and sad, and she did that fucking head tilt.

Steve honestly wasn't sure how Rob hadn't managed to get laid yet. She was charming when she didn't try. Steve wasn't even remotely attracted to her, the girl was his sister at this point, and yet she had managed to make him melt repeatedly. The only people who had managed to make him cave without romantic feelings involved were the kids, so she had to have some sort of game.

Still, Steve can't believe he gave in to the prom.

Robin had wanted to go so badly, though, which had surprised him. Very conformist of Robin, but Steve understood the need to fit in, even in your last moments. And Robin had told him if she didn't get to go with who she really wanted, if she didn't get to go with a girl, she wanted to go with her best friend. So sue him; he caved and went to prom with her.

"I'm not wearing a tie." He had told her.

He was wearing a fucking tie. Purple to match her dress.

The only thing that made it better was Eddie was stuck with him in his misery.

"Look at them." Eddie nodded to the dancefloor from his seat. Apparently, Eddie's weak point had been Nancy, of all people. And he wasn't even attracted to her (he'd insisted on the matter, in fact. And considering his own friendship with Robin, he was inclined to believe him). They had become weird friends over the past few months. So much so that Eddie came to the one place he swore would only see him for graduation. Steve had to admire Eddie's commitment to the friendship.

Steve was also pretty sure Eddie was terrified to say no to Nancy.

Steve looked in the direction Eddie pointed at. There, in the middle of the dancefloor, were Robin and Nancy giggling, dancing like maniacs. Ironically, maniac was playing.

Steve's early tension eased a bit at the sight. If Steve coming had gotten Robin to smile like that, it was worth the bad memories that came with the school gym.

"How long before Nance makes a move on her, you think?"

Eddie raised his eyebrows, and looked taken aback by Steve's question. "Bold to assume they are into each other, Harrington."

Steve snorted, "Not really. I know you know about Robs, so it's not like I'm outing her. Wouldn't do that. And sure, Nancy hasn't said anything. But I dated her for over a year. I know what she looks like when she's in love with someone."

"Aaah yes, the star-crossed lovers of Hawkins High. How could I forget about the lovebirds."

Steve looked at Eddie across the table, "No she never looked at me like that. I meant Jonathan."

"Oh," Eddie whispered. Steve wasn't hurt by the assumption; he was past that. Well, he was trying to be. He didn't love Nance like that anymore, but the way it ended had left its mark.

Steve felt a bit of envy as he looked at the two girls, now slow dancing. He wanted that. To dance with someone like no one was watching. To hold someone. He never got that.

"I think probably soon, to answer your question from earlier. I'm a little jealous, I have to admit. No one bats an eye at two girls dancing."

Steve wrinkled his nose in confusion, "What, you not gonna dance Munson?"

It was Eddie's turn to snort. "Um, no, Steve. I've never done it, and even if I could, the ladies aren't really who I would want to dance with. Believe it or not, my time with the bats was a one-off. I prefer to be alive, and this town wouldn't take too kindly to my dance partner preferences.

Steve's heart stuttered for a moment. Something ignited in his chest. Something that couldn't be confused with anything other than hope. "What?"

Eddie stared for a second, "Dude. I'm gay."

"No I got that. It's just, you've never danced with someone? Like ever?"

Eddie laughed, "C'mon man don't be surprised."

Steve suddenly stood up and extended his hand. "C'mon."

"Harrington, did you not hear a word I just said. Besides, I'm not going to give these assholes a show."

Steve let out an exasperated sigh, "Look, I know you’re the president of the Anti-Social Club, but why don’t you join me? I have an idea, and I promise nothing bad will happen to you on my watch.”

Eddie hesitated but grabbed Steve's hand. Eddie was stiff as Steve dragged him from his seat.

Steve walked them through the double doors of the gymnasium and out into the hallway. Eddie let out a confused yelp. "What—where are we going, Steve?"

"Just trust me."

Eddie stayed silent the rest of the way until they reached O'Donnell's classroom. "Are you seriously taking back here? Is this a joke?"

"No, I just know she's the only teacher who doesn't lock her door. C'mon." Steve walked Eddie inside the room and shut the door. Luckily, the desks had all been stacked and pushed to the sides of the room, so there was plenty of open space for his plan.

"Okay, so, put your hands around my neck. We are going to do this the easy way instead of the traditional way."

"Ooo, kinky Stevie. Didn't know you were into that." Eddie listened anyway and threw his arms over Steve's shoulders, connecting his hands at the base of Steve's neck.

A blush spread over Steve's face. "Shut up. You knew what a meant."

Eddie gave his first genuine laugh of the night in response.

Steve placed his hands on Eddie's hips. He took a moment to collect himself before proceeding. Steve could feel the warmth of Eddie's hips through the fabric of his black button-up. It was thrilling to be able to feel him this way. Steve had always imagined him to be cold, but he was pleasantly surprised by the outcome. It fit Eddie to be warm; the man was a ball of sunshine despite his outward appearance.

After a moment, Steve started to sway them back and forth. "Move with me, Munson. There is no one around."

Eddie obeyed easily. "Ya know, when you claimed me the president of the anti-social club, I thought, ya know, we were going to be social."

"You are being social, Eddie, just being social with me. Besides, you want me to stop?"

Eddie whispered, "No. It's nice." Eddie leaned his forehead against Steve's as they continued to sway.

Steve began to hum under his breath. The music from the gym was too far away to make out any sort of beat. He decided to make his own music, just for Eddie.

Eddie giggled, "Are you humming 'Dreams' by Fleetwood Mac right now?" He rubbed his thumbs against the nape of Steve's neck.

Chills went down Steve's spine at the contact. He would have to remember to thank Robin later on for dragging him to prom, for giving him this moment. "Yea, you got a problem with that?" Steve's tone wasn't mean but scratchy and raw. Vulnerable. He didn't want to do anything to break the moment.

"It's perfect," Eddie said as he looked directly into Steve's eyes.

"Good." Steve brushed his lips against Eddie's. Then he sang in a whisper against his mouth,

"It's only me who wants to wrap around your dreams/And have you any dreams you'd like to sell?"

____

This was a cute one to write; thanks for the prompt. hope it lives up to what you wanted :)

Sorry if this feels rushed; I accidentally posted it before it was finished at first, so I panicked to go back and made the final edits.

[eskawrites]

well, kids. i've done it. i've written tales of erathia fanfic. original fic? who even knows at this point

@sweepy-stringbean had the absolutely brilliant idea of not only making Vecna the villain of the fictional fourth movie in this franchise, but also having a flayed Moss/Max "betray" the group by quite literally stabbing Tenar in the back

and, well, it's all just kinda grown from there

(this is also the backstory to that incredible, soft tenlark art that i've been staring at for like three weeks straight. Rae, I adore your work and your mind and everything you've come up with in regards to these beautiful gay fantasy losers)

anyway

-

Tenar’s chambers always seem bigger at night. The bed is too wide, making her feel too small. The windows stand taller, darker, far more imposing than they feel when they’re letting the sun in. The air seems heavier, full of the grief she can never shake, the responsibility she’ll always carry, the doubt that fills every day.

And tonight—and most nights, recently—an inescapable sense of longing.

Tenar is no fool. She might avoid it, might do all she can to deny it in the light of day, but she knows precisely who she longs for, and why. How can she not, when Lark is the one who makes the grief and the responsibility and the doubt a little lighter? Lark can step into the room and fill it effortlessly, without even saying a word. She can bring the light through the windows, can sit beside Tenar and hold her hand and make her feel far from small.

And all Tenar can do is lay awake at night, thinking of her.

Maybe she is a fool. Or a coward, because despite all that they’ve been through, she still shies away from telling Lark the truth.

But in her defense, she really does think Lark should know by now. Everyone in the kingdom has spent the last few years questioning why Tenar chooses Lark again and again—to travel with her everywhere she goes, to sit at her right hand during meetings and ceremonies and decrees, to protect her and accompany her and advise her and challenge her in ways no one has ever managed before. Surely, surely, Lark has figured out by now why she is, consistently, Tenar’s first choice.

Though perhaps that is unfair. If Tenar cannot be brave enough to speak directly, why should Lark have to be bold enough to make assumptions?

Tenar rolls over, tangling the sheets further around her legs. She curls her arm beneath her pillow and tilts her head up to look for the moon through the window. It’s faint, nothing but a barely-there glow behind a screen of clouds.

She is a fool, but she doesn’t have to be. And maybe, just maybe, her room doesn’t have to seem so empty. Tenar pushes herself upright and kicks away the sheets.

Two guards stand outside her door—a precaution of her own doing, but one that she hates. They stiffen to attention when she steps out, then relax with a wave of her hand. She beckons one to come with her and starts down the halls.

Lark’s room isn’t far from her own, but the walk is cold in the castle’s drafty corridors. The guard following her holds his lantern aloft, causing shadows to flicker around the edges of the light. They pass no one.

There is no light seeping through the cracks of Lark’s door when they arrive. Tenar steels herself. It won’t be the first time she’s woken Lark from sleep, and she’s certain it won’t be the last. She can only hope it will be worth it.

But when she raps on the door, no one answers. Tenar waits and listens for any sound of movement on the other side. After a moment, she turns over her shoulder and looks at her guard.

“Have you seen her about tonight?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

Tenar frowns and turns back to the door. She raises her hand to knock again, but the sound of footsteps behind them stops her. The light moves as her guard spins to face the newcomer. Tenar turns, too, and relaxes when she sees who it is.

“Moss,” she says. “What are you doing up so late?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” Moss’s grin is cheeky, if not a little stiff.

Tenar smiles back. “Looking for Lark, actually. Have you seen her?”

“Not tonight. But I’d be happy to walk with you until we find her. Save you from having to hang out with a stuffy soldier.” Moss smirks as the guard frowns and shuffles self-consciously.

“Be nice,” Tenar scolds her, no bite to her voice whatsoever. She turns to her guard. “You can return to your post. Thank you.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” He leaves without another word. The hallway darkens as he turns the corner, taking the lanternlight with him, but Tenar and Moss are both comfortable enough with the dark by now.

“Shall we?” Moss asks, tilting her head down the hall. Tenar nods, and together, they walk away from Lark’s room.

-

Lark leans against the wall across from Moss’s room, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at the closed door. There is no light coming from beneath it. No answer to her soft knock. No sound or movement at all from within.

It’s not unusual for Moss to wander the halls, even this late at night. Just like it’s not unusual for Moss to snap at her friends when she’s frustrated, or avoid people when she’s overwhelmed, or hide what she’s really thinking when she believes her own thoughts to be too weak or vulnerable to share.

Logically, none of it is unusual. But Lark has never really been one for logic. That’s Tenar’s job, and even Tenar has been urging her to just talk to Moss lately, if she’s so worried.

And she is worried. So is Tenar. So are Arren and Ged.

“Fuck this,” Lark mutters to herself.

She adjusts the bow on her back and crosses the hall. The door is locked, but only for a moment. She and Moss told Tenar years ago most of the castle’s chambers were child’s play to break into. They’re working on it, but considering the fact that most of the threats they’ve faced wouldn’t be deterred by a locked door, it’s pretty low on the priority list.

Lark swings the door open just enough for her to slip inside and close it again behind her. Moss is nowhere to be seen, but there are still embers glowing faintly in her fireplace. Lark sighs and walks further into the room.

The desk is a mess of discarded books and crumpled papers. A jar of ink has spilled onto its side, seeping into a stack of blank parchment. The wardrobe is a mess, the door hanging open, clothes spilling out of it. None of this is unusual.

The bed is made—that part is unusual. The sheets are stiff, tucked in neatly. Lark frowns and walks over. The nightstand is empty, the lantern sitting on top of it dark and cool. She turns and walks over to the fireplace instead.

Heat still hovers around the hearth. The coals must have been recently scattered. Lark kneels before them and reaches a hand out. Very recently, she thinks.

She grabs the poker hanging by the fireplace and sifts absently through the embers. She needs to find Moss. She just—has no idea where to start.

She pulls the poker back, and it catches on something in the corner of the fireplace. Lark tilts her head and leans forward a little. A page—crumpled into a ball, half-burnt, but still solid enough for her to scrape out. She picks it up and smooths it out with shaking hands. Ink blots cover most of what hasn’t burnt away, but there’s enough to recognize Moss’s handwriting. Enough to make out a few phrases.

Sorry, jumps out at her. Then, darkness and I’m scared.

I don’t know what’s happening to me.

Lark scrambles to her feet. She stuffs the page into her pocket and runs from the room. Her hand goes to her bow as she starts down the hallway.

She still has no idea how to find Moss, but she has to be here somewhere. The embers are still warm. She can’t have gone far. Lark can still find her. She can still stop whatever this is. She can still help her, before it’s too late.

-

Moss and Tenar don’t speak much as they walk. Moss trails a few feet behind her, her steps so quiet Tenar keeps looking over her shoulder just to make sure she’s still there. She looks pale in the dark halls. Her hair is dull, washed out in the shadows.

“I’m not sure where to look for her,” Tenar admits. Lark has followed Tenar’s lead during most of their nighttime wanderings; she doesn’t know where Lark would go if left to her own devices.

“Perhaps she’s out looking at the stars somewhere,” says Moss.

But Tenar shakes her head. “It’s too dark tonight. All she’d see is clouds.” And she wouldn’t go sit and look at clouds—not when it’s so dark, and there isn’t even the glow of the moon to keep her company.

“She could still be looking for fresh air,” suggests Moss.

Tenar doesn’t think that’s the case, but she also doesn’t have any other ideas. Besides, Moss knows Lark just as well as she does, if not more. Maybe she knows something Tenar doesn’t.

Or maybe she’s looking for an excuse to step outside and have a quiet moment of her own. Something has been troubling Moss, lately. It’s been worrying Lark. It’s been worrying Tenar, too. Maybe, if they have a moment to themselves, Tenar can try to talk to her.

“Alright,” she says. She takes the next left, making her way to one of the balconies overlooking the gardens.

They don’t meet anyone else along the way. Everything is quiet as Tenar leads them through the double stained glass doors and out onto the balcony. The air is cold, biting even for the late autumn night. Tenar shivers as the chill seeps immediately through her nightgown, but beside her—covered only in simple clothes and a thin, hooded cloak—Moss seems entirely unaffected.

It’s obvious that Lark isn’t out here, but Moss doesn’t make any moves to leave. She stands in front of the doors and stares out past the balcony’s railings. It’s too dark to see the gardens. Too dark to see much of anything at all.

“Moss?” Tenar asks softly.

Moss shakes her head. That distant look lingers in her eyes. “I don’t know where she is.”

“That’s okay.” Tenar continues to watch her watch the night. “Is there…something else you want to talk about?”

This time, Moss’s eyes flicker toward hers. Only for a moment, though. Then she drops her chin and looks away again.

“What do you mean?”

Tenar shrugs and turns away. She walks toward the railing, giving Moss space to gather her thoughts, or her words. Or her courage.

“A lot has been going on lately,” she says, keeping her voice light. Behind her, Moss stays silent. “Farmers reporting decay in their fields. Sightings of strange creatures in the forests. Disappearances, in the border villages. I think everyone is a little uneasy because of it.”

“Are you afraid, Tenar?” There’s something almost mocking in Moss’s voice. Tenar almost looks back at her over her shoulder, but then she stops and sighs, letting her head hang.

“I would be a fool not to be, wouldn’t I? After everything we’ve been through…I know better than to doubt my own instincts.” She pauses, then, “You do, too.”

Moss stays silent.

“Moss?” she asks again. No response. Tenar lifts her head. “Please talk to me. I know something has been bothering you lately.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

Her voice is dark—not angry, but furious. Tenar turns and sees Moss directly behind her, eyes dark, a shadow hanging over her face. A blade in her hand.

Their eyes meet, and Moss flinches, her arm jerking to the side even as it thrusts forward.

The whole world shrinks down to that balcony, to just the two of them—to the sharp, blinding pain in her back, and the overwhelming sorrow in Moss’s eyes.

Tenar’s hand moves of its own accord, finding the dagger at her waist and swinging up. Moss’s eyes widen as she stumbles back. She pulls her own knife with her, and Tenar screams as the blade tears through her again on the way out. She feels blood running down her back, soaking her gown. She shoves Moss away with another cry and throws the dagger—not at her, but past her. It crashes through the closed doors, shattering one of the stained glass windows.

They hear voices almost immediately, calling out in alarm. Moss bares her teeth.

“Moss,” Tenar whispers.

It’s like something breaks between them. Moss falters. Fear fills her gaze. Her arm falls, holding the knife loosely at her side. For the first time, Tenar sees tears streaming down her cheeks.

They hear footsteps, light and quick, then, “Tenar!”

Lark’s voice. Tenar could sob. She’s shaking, her legs trembling beneath her. She reaches out for Moss, but that dark, furious expression fills her face again—a look of hatred so cold that she doesn’t even look like herself. Moss backs away toward the railing just as Lark bursts through the doors.

She sees Tenar first. Terror crosses her face.

And then she looks at Moss.

Her eyes dart down to the bloody knife in Moss’s hand.

“Moss,” she breathes.

Moss shakes her head. She takes another step back. Lark starts after her, but she bolts and hops over the railing before she can reach her.

“Moss!”

Lark sprints forward. The balcony catches against her hips, stopping her even as she leans dangerously far over it, reaching for someone who is no longer there. Lark pulls her bow and starts to aim, but she lets out a frustrated growl and lowers it again before she even has the arrow nocked.

Tenar’s legs give out. She catches herself on the railing. She can hear her own harsh, broken breaths in her ears.

“Tenar!”

Lark grabs her and eases her down to the floor, but Tenar shakes her head.

“Moss—you need to help Moss.”

Lark ignores her. Her hand slips toward Tenar’s back, and burning pain courses through her veins. Tenar bites back a whimper.

“We need to get you a healer.”

“Lark, it wasn’t her. There’s something wrong, something—”

“I know,” Lark says through her teeth. “I know, she—but this looks bad, Tenar, we gotta get you help.”

“She’s in danger—”

“So are you.”

“I’ll be fine, I—”

“Tenar—”

“Lark,” Tenar says in the same voice that addresses her people, that orders her council, that leads knights onto the battlefield. “Go after your sister.”

Lark looks toward the railing where Moss disappeared, then squeezes her eyes shut. A tear slips down her cheek. Tenar wants to reach up and brush it away.

Lark’s grip on Tenar tightens. “No,” she says. “Not until you’re safe.”

She looks down again and meets Tenar’s eyes, and Tenar can’t resist it anymore. It hurts. Everything hurts. She can feel the blood on her gown, clinging to her skin. The night is already growing colder around them. Lark is moving against her now, stripping her overshirt and bunching it to press against Tenar’s back, and that hurts, too—enough to make darkness seep in on the edges of her vision.

Moss is gone, disappeared into the night. Something is wrong with her. She’s not herself. Lark knows, and Ged and Arren will believe her, but will anyone else? The guard who escorted her to Lark’s door—he’ll know Moss was the last one with Tenar. Will he think Moss was acting of her own accord? Will everyone else?

Lark is shouting something, her voice cracking as she cries out for help. If the council blames Moss, will they even listen to Lark? Or will they try to stop her from finding Moss and helping her?

“Lark,” Tenar whispers. Lark turns to her immediately, holding her a little closer. “My dagger—by the door.”

“Ten—”

“Please,” she says, because she knows it will work. And it does. Lark gently lays her down, then scrambles across the balcony to grab her dagger.

She returns within seconds. One arm wraps around Tenar again while the other offers her the hilt of her blade. Tenar takes it, then grabs Lark’s wrist.

“What are you—”

“Listen to me,” Tenar says, and Lark does. She always does. It makes Tenar want to apologize. But she can’t. She turns the blade and passes it back to Lark, pressing the seal that rests in the center of the cross-guard into her palm. “Moss needs you, okay? You—you have to protect her. You have to protect your family.”

Lark nods. “I will. You know I will. But Tenar—”

“And you have to protect this kingdom. Promise me you will.”

“I’ve already sworn that oath to you,” Lark says, her voice rough. “Stop talking like this. You’re going to be fine, and we’re going to find Moss, and we’re going to fix this. We are.”

“Lark, I…”

But whatever she wants to say—the words she was finally brave enough to share—fades away as darkness clouds more of her vision. She hears Lark call her name. She hears others, too, people finally running out onto the balcony to help, crying out when they see the two of them lying there in a growing pool of her blood.

Tenar wraps Lark’s fingers around the hilt of the blade and lets go.

“Tenar!” Lark catches her hand before it can hit the stone. Tenar doesn’t respond. She looks over her shoulder at the guards who stand frozen, now, staring at the scene. “She needs a healer! Now!”

It snaps them back into action.

“Sound the alarm,” one of them barks, sending someone else running back down the hall. “And you, run ahead to the ward, tell them what’s happened. You two, help me carry her.”

They all start moving at once. Lark forces herself to let go of Tenar as they lift her and start carrying her away. In the distance, she hears the ringing of the alarm bell, followed almost immediately by the cries of more guards. Torches and lanterns start blinking to life across the grounds.

“Lark!” It’s Arren’s voice, and Ged’s. Lark turns as they appear down the hall, running toward her.

They falter as they pass the guards carrying Tenar away. Ged stumbles a little, but Arren grabs him and keeps pulling him along toward the balcony.

“What happened?” Arren asks. “Tenar, is she—”

Lark closes her eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Where’s Moss?” asks Ged. Lark can feel the weight of Moss’s writing in her pocket. Maybe she’s still on the grounds. Maybe she’s tearing through the woods, running for her life. Maybe she’s already met up with whatever force has taken her from them.

Ged and Arren understand her silence enough to know not to ask anything else. Not yet, at least. Not here. Guards still hover around them, scanning the balcony for some hint as to what happened, or just standing there staring at the pool of Tenar’s blood.

Blood that is soaking into the knees of Lark’s pants, still. She pushes to her feet, feeling sick.

“What do we do now?” Ged asks instead.

Lark opens her eyes again, but before she can respond, one of the guards walks up to her.

“I was about to ask the same thing,” he says.

Lark stiffens. She doesn’t want to sit through their questioning now—not when she doesn’t know if Tenar is okay, or where Moss is, or—

“What would you have us do, Your Highness?”

Lark stares. Arren stares.

It’s Ged who breaks the silence.

“Oh, shit,” he whispers, looking down at Lark’s hand. “Tenar’s blade.”

Lark looks down, too. She is indeed still holding Tenar’s dagger in a white-knuckled grip. She hadn’t even realized it.

“What—”

“She put it in your hands, didn’t she?” the guard asks.

Lark forces herself to look up at him. “Yes, but—”

“Then she placed the fate of the kingdom in your hands, as well.”

“I—that’s not—it’s just a blade.” Lark stares at it in her hands. She will her fingers to uncurl and let it drop, but they don’t. She can’t.

“It’s tradition,” Ged says quietly. She turns to stare at him instead. “Especially during wartime. A quick way of establishing succession when a monarch is—”

“Tenar’s not dead,” Lark snaps.

“And if she wakes again,” the guard starts. Lark glares at him, and he holds his hands up. “When she wakes again, she will resume power. But until then…”

He steps forward, then lowers himself to kneel in front of her. Lark shakes her head. Behind him, the rest of the guards lingering on the balcony follow suit, bowing their heads. Ged kneels, too, elbowing Arren in the thigh on the way down so he takes a knee, too.

“Queen Regent,” the guard says to her. “What would you have us do?”