#But it’s only season 3 with just the brothers

[lanf1an]

SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister pt. 5 - january 8 2025

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 wordcount: 1850

The smell of freshly brewed coffee pulled you into the kitchen, your oversized sweater and thick socks your only defense against the chilly air. Dylan was leaning against the counter, his hair messy but his grin charmingly intact, a steaming mug in his hand.

“Morning,” he greeted, his voice warm and teasing. “Missed me already?” Your cheeks flushed involuntarily at the images flashing through your mind of you together in bed just earlier.

“Morning,” you replied, pouring yourself a cup of coffee. “Last day together,” you added with a pout. The trip was winding down. Magui had left early this morning, and tomorrow morning, Dylan would be gone too, leaving with the rest of the family. Your flight wasn’t until the day after, giving you one last evening with Max and Lando—like old times. 

He smirked, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Let’s make the most of it, I’ll go easy on you today.”

Your eyes widened in excitement at an idea. “Easy? I’d rather prefer hard. There’s some tricks you haven’t taught me on the slopes yet” you smirked. Dylan looked at you puzzled. 

“Remind me?” You pulled him closer in a response, kissing him. “Ooh, those kind of tricks” he chuckled.

Lando scoffed. 

You looked up, you hadn’t noticed he was there. He sat at the table, slouched with his coffee, his expression a mix of irritation and exhaustion. “Morning to you too,” you said curtly, your irritation flaring up from the unresolved tension between you two after the conversation about Japan.

Lando didn’t look up, swirling his coffee as he scoffed. “Morning. Just enjoying the show.”

You shot him a glare, but before the tension could escalate further, Max appeared in the doorway, yawning and stretching dramatically.

“Alright, easy on the cute couple stuff” he grumbled, his eyes darting between you and Dylan before landing on Lando. “Lando will get jealous, he’s already sulking about Magui leaving this morning”

Dylan burst out laughing, completely unbothered, while you groaned. Lando’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond, instead standing abruptly and leaving the room. His coffee cup clinked sharply against the counter on his way out.

“Good talk,” Max said, grabbing the pot to pour himself a cup. He glanced at you and Dylan, a smirk playing on his lips. “Carry on. Just don’t traumatize me this early, yeah?”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “Why are you like this?”

Max just grinned. “Because someone has to keep it interesting.” - Later that afternoon, after a long day on the slopes, Dylan was packing his stuff, you slipped into the hot tub outside the lodge. The warm water was a welcome relief against the crisp mountain air. Max was already there, lounging with a beer in hand.

“Finally,” he said, raising his bottle. “Thought you’d never show up.”

You eased into the water with a sigh. “Needed this after trying to keep up with Dylan all day. He’s annoyingly good.”

Max smirked. “Sounds like someone’s got a little crush.”

You splashed water at him. “Don’t start.”

You relaxed at the hot water, settling into comfortable silence with your brother. Then Max broke it. “It was great having Dylan around this trip, eventhough I'm surprised Lando hasn’t gone full overprotective older brother on him yet.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No need, I've got good taste. You said it yourself—he’s the most laid-back guy ever.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point,” Max said, smirking. “Laid-back and Lando don’t exactly mix. He’s all adrenaline and proving he’s the best at everything.”

You frowned, leaning forward slightly. “They get along, though. Don’t they?” You hadn’t specifically noticed, Lando always took some time to warm up to people and you had attributed most of his behavior with Dylan to his extreme competitiveness. It was the same story with every teammate he'd had.

Max raised an eyebrow. “Do they? Or are you just convincing yourself they do? Dylan’s easygoing, so he’s not gonna make a big deal of it. But you know Lando. He can’t handle not being the center of attention—especially not with you.”

“That’s not fair,” you said quickly, though the words felt defensive even to you. “Lando’s competitive, sure, but it’s not personal. He’s always been like that. It’s just how he’s wired.”

Max gave you a knowing look. “Yeah, the competitiveness of the most important man in your life. He can’t handle not being second anymore. Always behind me, of course,” he added with a smug grin. “Now third, behind Dylan.”

You splashed water at him, laughing despite yourself. “You’re so full of it.”

Max wiped his face, still grinning. “Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it. Don’t get me wrong—I think Dylan’s great. And I think Lando knows that too.'' - Dylan was already in bed for his early departure the next morning, as you padded into the bathroom, toothbrush in hand. You’d stayed up later than usual, nursing the remnants of a bottle of wine with Max.

As you stood at the sink, brushing lazily, the door creaked open, and Lando stepped inside, toothbrush dangling from his fingers.

“Seriously?” you mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste foam. “There are three other bathrooms.”

He shrugged, already squeezing toothpaste onto his brush. “This one’s closest. Don’t worry, I won’t peek.”

Rolling your eyes, you returned your focus to the mirror, but the small space seemed to shrink with both of you in it. You could feel his presence, the casual way he moved like he belonged there, even in the quiet intimacy of brushing teeth side by side.

Lando started brushing, his reflection meeting yours briefly in the mirror. “You’re still mad,” he said around the toothbrush, his words muffled. 

You realized he came to make amends after the Japan fight yesterday, having not really talked today.  

“What gave it away?” you replied flatly, spitting into the sink.

He leaned forward to do the same, his expression unreadable as he straightened. “C’mon, I said I’m sorry” But you weren’t fully ready to let it go yet.

He came closer, resting his head lightly on your shoulder,  looking at you in the mirror.  “Remember when we used to share this kind of thing all the time-” He continued, being vaguely sentimental in an attempt to make you forgive him. “Guess those days are over now that everyone’s got someone in their bed.” 

You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “What, missing the sleepovers? I thought you were glad to be rid of me taking over your apartment in Monaco.”

“It’s not the same,” he said, quieter now. “I liked it when things were simple.”

You turned to face him fully. “Things change, Lando. We’re not kids anymore.”

He stepped closer, the tension between you crackling. “Yeah, I know. But sometimes I wish we still were.”

His gaze lingered on yours, and for a moment, it felt like he might step even closer.  “Goodnight,” he said, turning to leave, giving you a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes

— Monaco, May 16 2021

You remembered one of those nights years ago, staying up late in his new sparsely decorated apartment in Monaco. The three of you had eaten takeout on the floor, talking about his upcoming race and playing games. 

“I swear, you two bring out the worst in me,” Max groaned, sprawled on the couch as Lando rifled through a pile of controllers.

“Don’t blame us because you suck at Mario Kart,” you said, smirking as you leaned against the couch with a bowl of popcorn in hand.

“Me?” Max shot back, sitting up. “The only reason you win is because Lando cheats. And don’t deny it!”

Lando turned with an exaggerated gasp, clutching his chest. “Cheat? I’m offended. I’m just naturally gifted.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you threw a piece of popcorn at him. It missed, landing on the floor, and he scooped it up to toss back at you, grinning like a child.

Later, as the game devolved into chaos and Max declared himself out, he collapsed onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “I’m done. Wake me when it’s breakfast.”

“Lightweight,” Lando teased, watching as Max buried himself in the blankets and promptly started snoring.

“Max don’t be a baby” you said, picking up the scattered controllers and snacks.

Lando joined you, stacking empty cans on the counter. “Think he’ll survive out here?”

You glanced at Max, snoring softly. “He’s fine. He could sleep through an earthquake.”

As you came back from the bedroom to grab Max a blanket, Lando suddenly stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening slightly. “Uh... you might want to rethink that.”

You looked down and realized that out of habit, you’d stripped down to your tank top and underwear, your usual sleep attire. Your face flushed. 

“Oh, come on,” you said, trying to brush it off. “You’ve seen worse.”

“Not the point,” he mumbled, his cheeks pink as he averted his gaze.

Max stirred on the couch, half-opening one eye. “Ew. Gross. Put on some pants or something. This isn’t Love Island. You'll give me nightmares.”

You grabbed the blanket and threw it at him, laughing despite your embarrassment. “Shut up, Max, you were literally naked in the womb with me. A woman's body gives you nightmares?!”

Lando chuckled, though he still looked a little flustered. Max groaned and turned over on the couch.

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a t-shirt from your bag and tugged it over your head. “Better?”

“Marginally,” Lando teased, his grin returning.

With Max out cold, the night grew quieter. You and Lando eventually found yourselves in his room, lying side by side on his bed while quickly falling asleep.

—

With everyone gone, the lodge was left for a final night to just you, Max, and Lando—like old times. It felt oddly comforting to fall back into familiar patterns without the added complexities of relationships or new dynamics. After a last day of skiing, you were drinking and playing games at the lodge, Lando had brought out a vintage bottle of champagne he'd been saving for “a special occasion.”

“You can thank me later,” he said with a grin, pouring everyone a generous glass.

“I guess this counts as special,” you teased, holding your glass up. “To us—still standing after all these years.” You were drunk, feeling nostalgic, and had finally fully forgiven Lando about the fight.  

“To us,” Max and Lando echoed, clinking their glasses against yours.

As the night wore on, the three of you grew progressively more tipsy, laughing so hard your sides hurt, as Max was losing every game against Lando and you. 

It was well past midnight when Max declared he was too drunk to move and collapsed onto one of the couches. You groaned in protest when Lando grabbed your arm and pulled you upstairs. “Come on,” he said, smirking. “You’re not sleeping in the living room with Max snoring like that.” He guided you to one of the spare bedrooms—the same room the two of you had shared for years during other ski trips. The familiarity made your chest tighten as you dropped onto the bed.

“You know,” you said, your words slurred from the alcohol, “you always get what you want, Lando. It’s so unfair.”

He paused, pulling a blanket over you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You always do,” you mumbled, turning to face the wall. “You wanted this—just us three. You always get your way.”

Lando didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he slid under the covers beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist in a gesture so natural, it didn’t even register as strange. You were too tipsy to care, and Max was too far gone downstairs to notice.

“I don’t always get what I want,” Lando said softly, his voice barely audible. “Not everything.”

-

WN: last chapter at the ski lodge im crying 😭😭 i will miss it. But don’t worry, they’ll come back next year like every year (spoiler!!!!) Let me know what you think! Also btw what’s that outfit Lando's wearing in the new vid in Monaco???? I hate and love it at the same time….

tl: @ash88-yep @lewishamiltonismybf @harrysdimple05@lex2205 @il0vereadingstuff @martygraciesversion381 @joannaln4 @obxstiles @chaoswithus

[simplygojo]

Your Brother's Best Friend ⸺ Gojo

author's note ⸺ Hi all! I apologize for being offline for the holidday season, wanted to spend lots of time iwth my fam and give myself a big mental break from the online world haha..so I hope you guys enjoy this draft I have, someone requested this like bak on october but I can't find the request so if it was you LMK <3 pairing ⸺ Satoru Gojo x reader concept ⸺ You are Nanami's younger sister, because of that, the insufferably annoying and constantly present-Satoru Gojo-has always been a constant in your life. content ⸺ just some coming of age fluff, childhood crush, soulmates fr, don't forget gojo is insufferable, ur a bit insufferable too but ily, lmk if anyone wants a prt2, mt fuji reference bc I'm planning a Japan trip rn, reader uses female pronouns

materlist || request guidelines || commissions

Satoru Gojo had always found himself intrigued by you. Being Nanami’s younger sister—only by a year, but a fact Gojo never let go—meant you were often around during their shared days at Jujutsu High. 

It had been impossible not to notice you, with your sharp wit and the way you matched Nanami’s sternness with a warmth and energy he seemed to lack.

Back then, Gojo’s fascination with you manifested in childish antics: hiding your books just to watch you search for them in exasperation, ruffling your hair as he towered over you with a cocky grin, and smirking when you called him an idiot. 

He relished every moment he could pull your attention from your studies or your brother, craving the fiery glint in your eyes when you were annoyed with him. 

Unlike the rest of the people in Gojo’s life, you weren’t part of Jujutsu society.

You couldn’t see curses, didn’t wield cursed energy, and, for the most part, seemed blissfully unaware of the world that surrounded your brother and his friends as you pursued your studies. 

Nanami had always insisted on keeping you far from it, which was just another thing Gojo couldn’t help but admire. 

You were grounded in a way the rest of them weren’t, so wonderfully normal amidst their chaos.

And you had this way of looking at him—not like the strongest sorcerer, not like the next great hope of Jujutsu society—but just like a guy who annoyed the hell out of you.

At first, it felt harmless. You were Nanami’s younger sister. Off-limits. Untouchable. The unspoken one Nanami had pulled from the very beginning. 

“Don’t even think about it, Gojo,” he’d once joked, though the steel in his voice had been unmistakable. That line, so clearly drawn by your older brother, was one Gojo thought he could respect.

However…Gojo wasn’t exactly known for adhering to rules, and over time, what started as a playful crush transformed into something far more real.

—

Gojo had really noticed the shift in how he saw you one lazy afternoon when you were both a little older, himself a second-year and Nanami now in first year. 

You’d stopped by Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High to drop off lunch for Nanami, a routine occurrence Gojo had witnessed more times than he could count.

And yet, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, that day felt… different.

He spotted you from across the courtyard, standing near the steps with a neatly folded paper bag in hand. The sun hit you just right, its golden rays catching in your hair and making it shimmer. 

Gojo found himself frozen mid-step, watching as you leaned toward Nanami, laughing at something he’d said.

He felt his chest tighten, his usual cocky grin faltering as something entirely unfamiliar bubbled up inside him.

He’d seen you countless times before—bickering with Nanami, reading quietly under a tree, rolling your eyes when he teased you. But this was the first time he’d truly seen you, and it shook him more than he cared to admit.

Gojo brushed it off with his usual bravado. It’s nothing, he told himself. Just a fluke. A trick of the light. I’m Satoru freakin’ Gojo. I don’t get fazed by stuff like..like girls.

But the image of you standing there, radiant and laughing, stuck with him.

Later that day, Nanami caught him staring off into space, absently twirling a pen between his fingers.

“You’ve got that dumb look on your face again,” Nanami deadpanned, his voice cutting through the comfortable silence of the common room.

Gojo blinked, jolting out of his thoughts. “Huh? Dumb? I don’t do dumb looks,” he shot back, feigning nonchalance as he leaned back in his chair.

Nanami raised a brow, unimpressed. “Right…” He said, but didn’t press forward.

Gojo leaned back further in his chair, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to his dilemma. 

He’d never tell Nanami the truth—that he’d been so distracted by you. 

Because even though he’d brushed it off earlier, Satoru Gojo knew better. That moment in the courtyard wasn’t nothing. It was the beginning of a realization he wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

—

By the time you and Gojo were in your late teens you had both become insufferable in your own ways. 

You–who was constantly studying and reading and cramming your head full of anything instead of living your life. And Gojo–whose ego was the size of Mt. Fuji and spoke 100 kilometres an hour. 

This specific night, Nanami had reluctantly invited Gojo over for dinner at your family’s house after the persistent pestering of his taller, louder classmate. 

Gojo, being Gojo, had made himself right at home, lounging on your family’s couch as if he owned the place. Your parents were out for the evening, and Nanami had resigned himself to the kitchen, grumbling about Gojo’s ability to eat an ungodly amount of food.

Dinner wasn’t ready yet, which left you and Gojo alone in the dining room as Nanami busied himself in the kitchen, muttering under his breath about Gojo’s bottomless appetite.

You’d been sitting at the dining table, flipping through a thick textbook, completely ignoring Gojo’s antics. Or at least, you had been, until Gojo sauntered over, leaned against the back of your chair, tipping it slightly, forcing you to glance up.

“You’re gonna get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that,” he teased, his signature smirk firmly in place.

“Do you ever not talk?” You replied, exasperation lacing your tone as you tilted your head to glare up at him.

“Rarely,” he shot back, before letting the chair fall back into place and taking a seat beside you at the table. “You’re really gonna spend the whole evening buried in those books?” He drawled, his voice a mix of amusement and boredom.

You didn’t bother looking up. “Not everyone has the luxury of being naturally insufferable and talented like you, Gojo.”

“Aw, you think I’m talented?” His grin was audible in his voice.

You finally lifted your gaze, levelling him with the flattest look you could muster. “Not what I said.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his chin propped up on one hand. The orange sunlight streaming through the window caught in his hair, making it gleam like spun silver. “Come on, y/n, live a little. You’re always so serious.”

“Not everyone can afford to ‘live a little,’” you muttered, your tone softer than before.

Gojo’s grin faltered, just for a heartbeat, before returning with renewed mischief. “Then it’s my civic duty to help you loosen up.”

Before you could stop him, he reached across the table and flicked the corner of your notebook. It slid a few inches down the table out of your reach, the pages fluttering slightly.

“Gojo,” you snapped, sitting up straighter.

“What?” His innocent tone was as fake as the wide-eyed look he gave you. “I’m just trying to help.”

You leaned over to grab the notebook, but Gojo was quicker. He snatched it up and held it above his head, just out of reach.

“Satoru,” you hissed, standing now, your chair scraping loudly against the floor.

He smirked, leaning back in his chair as he dangled the notebook higher. “What’s the magic word?”

“I’m not playing this game with you.”

You stepped closer, your hand reaching for the notebook, but Gojo shifted at the last second. In one smooth motion, he stood, towering over you with that infuriating smirk still plastered across his face.

“Wow, so short,” he teased, looking down at you with mock pity.

“I hate you,” you said, glaring up at him.

“Liar,” he shot back, his grin widening.

The room felt smaller now, the air warmer. You tried not to notice how close he was, how his presence seemed to fill every corner of the space.

“Just give it back,” you said, your voice quieter this time.

Gojo tilted his head, considering your request, but made no move to comply. 

Instead, he bent down slightly, just enough that your faces were almost level. His free hand braced against the edge of the table beside you, caging you in without even touching you.

“You really want it?” He asked, his tone low, teasing.

The words made your pulse quicken, though you’d never admit it. You reached for the notebook again, but he didn’t budge, his grin softening into something more unreadable.

And then you noticed it—his breath, warm and feather-light against your cheek. You were close enough to feel his breath.

The realization hit you all at once. Your skin burned where his breath lingered, and the heat crawled upward, spreading across your face and down your neck.

“Gojo,” you said, but it came out quieter than you intended, almost a whisper.

“What?” He murmured, his voice matching your softness now.

You didn’t answer, your mind too preoccupied with the way his gaze lingered on you, no longer playful but intense, searching.

His grin returned, but it was softer this time, almost shy. “You’re blushing, y/n,” he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, your gaze darting away as if the floor could save you from the warmth blooming across your face. 

“No, I’m not,” you mumbled, despite the obvious pink hue radiating from your cheeks.

Gojo chuckled, a low, quiet sound that only made your blush deepen. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

You felt your heart do a little flip and you spun around, turning your back to him and crossing your arms over your chest.

“No I’m not–You–” You said shortly, trying to make yourself seem more annoyed than flustered.

“What?” He drawled, his tone all lazy amusement. 

“I’m just making an observation.” His grin was practically audible as he tilted his head. “I mean, look at you. Bright red. Are you sure you’re not coming down with something? Or is it just me?”

You spun around so fast you almost knocked into him, your hands flying up to shove at his chest, but he barely budged. “You’re such a—”

“Careful now,” he interrupted, catching your wrists with ease. His grip was light but firm, his thumbs brushing over your skin in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Wouldn’t want you to say something you can’t take back.”

Your glare faltered under his steady gaze, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of looking away. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are,” he shot back smoothly, a smirk curling his lips. “It’s almost like you enjoy my company.”

“Well I don’t,” you snapped. “I’m not the one who invited you for dinner Gojo.” 

Gojo’s smirk widened, but he finally released your wrists, stepping back just enough to give you space—though not nearly enough to escape the heat of his presence.

“Hm, ya’know–you’re right,” he spoke slowly, his tone dripping with mock innocence as he turned toward the kitchen, hands sliding casually into his pockets. “I’ll try not to charm ya too much during dinner.”

You stood frozen, your cheeks still blazing and your heart racing as his footsteps faded. With a frustrated huff, you followed, vowing silently not to let him get under your skin again.

—

By the time you were in your early twenties, you had quietly come to terms with your crush on Satoru Gojo.

It wasn’t hard to pinpoint why you liked him. Gojo had been a constant presence in your life since your young teenage years, and despite his insufferable arrogance and larger-than-life personality, there was a charm about him you couldn’t deny. 

He teased you relentlessly, always flashing that blinding smile that made your heart skip a beat.

But it wasn’t just the teasing or the jokes. It was the way he treated you differently, always going out of his way to check on you, lingering just a little longer than necessary whenever you were around.

Still, you convinced yourself it didn’t mean anything. Gojo was like that with everyone—or so you told yourself…It was safer that way.

That afternoon, you sat across from Utahime at your favourite coffee shop in the neighbourhood near the office you worked at, absently stirring your drink as she rattled on about her recent frustrations at work.

You tried to focus—nodding at all the right times, but your mind kept drifting.

“Are you even listening to me?” Utahime asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Of course I am,” you lied, forcing a smile.

“Uh-huh.” She sipped her coffee, then leaned back with a sigh. “You’ve been spacey lately. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you said too quickly, heat creeping up your neck. “Just tired, I guess.”

She gave you a skeptical look but didn’t press further.

The bell above the café door chimed, and you glanced up instinctively—only to immediately wish you hadn’t.

There he was.

Gojo Satoru strolled in like he owned the place, his sunglasses pushed up into his snow-white hair and his hands stuffed casually into his coat pockets. He scanned the room, and the moment his eyes landed on you, his face lit up with a grin that sent your heart racing.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, sinking lower in your seat.

Utahime’s gaze flicked between you and Gojo, her lips curling into a smirk. “Oh, this should be fun.”

“Don’t you start,” you warned.

Before she could respond, Gojo was already making his way toward your table, exuding his usual overconfidence.

“Ladies,” he greeted, pulling out the chair next to you without waiting for an invitation. “Fancy running into you here.”

“Gojo,” Utahime said dryly, her tone laced with disdain that only seemed to amuse him.

“Utahime,” he replied, his grin widening.

He turned his attention to you, his expression softening slightly. “And you. Shouldn’t you be working?”

“I could say the same to you,” you shot back, doing your best to sound indifferent despite the way your pulse quickened under his gaze.

“Touché,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “But I’d argue that seeing you is much more important than work.”

Utahime snorted, and you felt your cheeks heat up. “Does that line actually work on people?” Utahime asked, sounding as unimpressed as ever.

Gojo shrugged, clearly unbothered. “Guess it depends on the person.”

The conversation moved on—or rather, Utahime and Gojo bickered while you quietly sipped your drink, pretending not to notice the way Gojo kept stealing glances at you.

Then, out of nowhere, he said it.

“So,” Gojo began, his tone deceptively casual as he put one hand on the back of your chair, causing it to tilt back a bit, “what are you doing tonight?”

You froze, your mind racing as your eyes left their place on your coffee and found his. “Why?”

“Because I want to take you out,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Dinner. Just the two of us.”

Your jaw nearly hit the table. Surely, you’d misheard him.

Utahime, on the other hand, choked on her coffee.

“Excuse me?” You managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You heard me,” Gojo said, his grin softening into something almost... hopeful. “What do you say?”

For a moment, you were too stunned to respond. You’d spent years convincing yourself that Gojo didn’t see you that way—that his teasing was just his personality, nothing more. But now, staring into those piercing blue eyes, you couldn’t ignore the sincerity in his expression.

Before you could answer, Utahime broke the silence. “Oh my god,” she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“What?” You asked, still reeling.

“I can’t do this…this has been obvious to everyone but you,” she said, looking at you like you’d grown a second head. 

“He’s been obsessed with you for years, and you’re just now realizing it?”

Your face turned scarlet as you stammered, “That’s—that’s not true.”

Gojo, to his credit, looked thoroughly amused. “See? I knew I liked you for a reason, Utahime. It is totally 100% true.”

“Don’t drag me into this,” she said, waving him off before standing up and leaving some cash beside her empty mug. “I’m leaving before this gets any worse. Good luck, Gojo—you’ll need it.”

“Thanks,” he called after her, clearly enjoying himself.

Once Utahime was gone, you turned back to Gojo, your mind still spinning. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” he asked, his tone unusually serious.

You searched his face for any sign of mischief, but there was none. Just that same unwavering confidence and something else—something softer, almost vulnerable.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “One dinner.”

Gojo’s grin returned full force, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t joking.

[coffeegnomee]

Will we get a 3rd tell-all from spoke or vi about what really happened in the wormhole? Does it even matter?

Because Spoke's video haunts me in the deep, deep regret that he has towards his actions in s4, particularly during the dupe war. The purpose of the video being the tell-all of his actions against Mapicc and against Parrot.

How he ignored his friendship with Mapicc in favor of bullying his way to getting the ending he wanted, even saying in the present day voiceover: 56:55 SPOKE: "eventually after the amount of threats and pressure I put on my friend, he gave up"

Friend. singular. Even though Zam and (presumably) vortex were also in that call.

And how he abused his friendship with Parrot, creating a team that at every single moment was a lie.

Spoke did a lot of fucked up shit in the wormhole, told a lot of lies, abused friendships. And now, ooc, Spoke had realized just how fucked that was. He knew, from knowing his own mind, that the nppp was nothing. At every step it was a desperate and delicate dance to get parrot in the right position to click a sign and not try and stop them after.

But you actually just straight up cannot watch the nppp story and not be convinced that Spoke loved that team just as much. The hours spent streaming together, the three seasons of friendship, the declarations that it was all for the team, all for Parrot, even in the end in the last moments of the server.

In Character, if not also as a cc, Spoke did care about that team. He cared about Parrot. And if anything it made the guilt of what he had done to him hurt all the more.

And when Parrot says, I didn't use exploits because I would rather let the team down than the server down, Spoke had no response, still has no response other than putting on pants, yelling fuck it, op-ing vi, and jumping into the void.

His only response now was that he did it all because it felt like he was doing the impossible, ending the video seconds later, but not before giving a reminder that uu s1 is ending. Implying he has nothing else to do but that he did s4 because it was the impossible. Ominous stuff for the fate of s6 if I may be so bold.

But i digress. The whole first half of the video is an apology note to Parrot and Mapicc and a cautionary tale to the viewers.

And then we get to Vitalasy. Because what this is Not, is any of that for him.

What is interesting to me, and I can't stop thinking about it, is just how many On Screen Vi and Spoke interactions late s4 were just written out of Spoke's video completely. Scenes that were streamed by others, things that I have wondered about why the two of them would be interacting that way:

(wait. tiny aside. Spoke said thanks to his brother for recording the Planet wormhole stream, implying he wouldn't have it otherwise. does he not know about the archive?)

The day (4/16/23) Spoke and co tried to chunk ban vitalasy while mapicc was live. Spoke teleported up to the prison after Vi respawned (giving him an echest?) and then tried to cover it up when mapicc said he could see him up there.

The next day (4/17/23) Spoke standing on the impromptu risers looking down at a weak vitalasy who had just burned all his exploits form his enderchest saying there is only one player who knows how to do the wormhole glitch and he's done doing that.

The times (5/7/23) where Spoke (and Mapicc) were annoying Vi while Vi and Zam were trying to have their conversations on Subz's islands. (5/3/23) Vi looking down at Spoke and saying how much he hates him while Zam tries reconciling with Vi to complete his flower circle.

This being, ironically, the impetus for Zam thinking they were still working together because they were being too obvious in how much they hated each other.

Zam was right about them working together, in Vi's first wormhole finale video (Using Exploits to Fight Admin Abuse) right in the last seconds Vi flashes up DMs he sent about how the wormhole would open with the cc's joining and ending with:

Sent three days after his dramatic burning of exploits and self-ban.

But Spoke didn't get op until May 1, 10 days after that Vi DM.

Which was just a few days before those two last streams (5/3 and 5/7) where they seemed to be more antagonistic than before.

Of course, Spoke's video now says Vi did ask for op, but he denied him. And says "there's more that happened but that would take to long to explain".

What we got was, ominously, the happy ending where nothing confusing happened at all. In the same video where he says the last happy ending where nothing confusing happened at all was a coverup for what actually happened.

So what the hell happened.

We will never know. And probably for good reason bc it's giving private stuff with how much it's not talked about. And they hardly need to clear the air on any of that.

But Spoke's paranoia was running deep by the end of the wormhole, so it's understandable that he wouldn't give anyone op. Anyone with op could op anyone else.

And he was keeping tight control over everything, and here I go with havoc duo dramatics, but after betraying their three years of friendship, Spoke promised to make a good ending, not let any of the exploits get out, to keep everything safe.

He says in his video he said all of that to make Parrot think that they were unstoppable, and as blackmail that if Parrot leaked anything Spoke could go back on that promise and release all the exploits to all the players.

But something that has always made me love Spoke's wormhole is how balanced he made it. It was scuffed, sure, but Spoke had infinite power and no matter how much he says restraint was hard, he had a hell of a lot of restraint. You only need to watch one Skeppy video destroying my friend's server to know how stupid getting creative mode can make you.

Even though he had abused his friendship with Parrot, he cared so deeply about him that he didn't want to actually destroy their friendship. Well aware that Parrot could just ban him off lifesteal entirely, like the discord and everything, he made sure the ending was balanced enough to make a good story.

Which is all Parrot ever wants. There's a haunting moment at the end of season 3 where Zam tries to get Parrot to give him the hearts Tubbo had collected and Parrot refuses because he wants "the biggest bang for my buck"; he wants the chaos, he wants the interesting plot, he craves the adrenaline.

Call it fear of repercussions, call it love of his friend, call it both. But Spoke prioritized Parrot and prioritized making an interesting story for Parrot over everyone. everyone. else.

Over Vitalasy, screwing his plot over and refusing op until the last seconds. Doing, truly who knows what, to keep control of the wormhole only in his own hands and not with Vi (or Subz).

Over Mapicc (and Zam), screwing his plot over and planning to end the server in peace with Parrot if Parrot won the wormhole. I went back and watched zam's "Night of the End" vod and Mapicc confronts Spoke about betraying them to Parrot and potentially leaking the control room to him if they won the wormhole, which Mapicc is not happy about. And Spoke weaves a web of lies and deflection to make them think he won't do that. Even as he is literally doing that. Once again manipulating Mapicc just like he did in the dupe war, but not mentioning it in the video just as he didn't mention Vi in the second half.

And he even screwed over Ro too, refusing to let him on the team (though mapicc was also involved in that decision iirc) taking it as too great a risk to getting this balanced ending he wanted.

This balanced ending that, despite all the exploits, heavily favored Parrot winning. The balancing gave them a slow decent into loosing, Spoke could have brought out the OP items earlier, his red chestplate, or banned hearts earlier, or so many things. But instead he made it as close as possible. They won by 18 seconds. The balancing made it a damn good story. But in the end, he showed them the control room anyway. He wanted to loose. Call it guilt over abusing the server all season, call it fairness that evil should loose, call it love for the server. At the end of the day,

Nobody mattered more than Parrot.

[obeymeshallwedateaddict]

Hello everyone!! This is the first lesson of the long awaited unofficial season 4 of Obey me Nightbringer written by yours truly <3

I will post lessons every 10 days.

I hope you enjoy it (it came out a little long but I hope it's not a problem)

Please make sure this finds other obey me lovers and people who don't want the series to end.

You can find more of my work here: Masterlist

@arie2faced wanted to be tagged so there you go!

Lesson 61: “Echoes of Change”

Preparations for the Grand Gala

The story begins with you and the brothers preparing for a grand event in the Devildom—the Infernal Gala, a highly anticipated celebration hosted by Diavolo to showcase unity and strength among the three realms. The brothers are busy with their individual tasks, and you help them throughout the day, making sure none of them are slacking off and checking the quality of their work.

Morning with Mammon

You find Mammon frantically trying to pick an outfit in his room, clothes scattered everywhere. He groans as he holds up a jacket, glaring at it like it personally offended him.

Mammon: “This stupid thing doesn’t fit right! What if I don’t look good enough? Diavolo’ll never let me hear the end of it!”

You: “You’re overthinking it, Mammon. You look great in anything.”

You pick up a sleek black jacket with gold trim from the pile and hold it up to him.

You: “Here, try this one. It suits you.”

Mammon grumbles but puts it on. When he turns to the mirror, his expression softens.

Mammon: “Huh. Guess it ain’t too bad… But y’know, it’s only ‘cause you picked it. You’ve got good taste.”

He pauses, scratching the back of his neck as he glances at you.

Mammon: “I dunno what I’d do without ya. Don’t tell the others, but… you’re my good luck charm, so stick close, alright?”

Afternoon with Leviathan

Levi is in his room, staring nervously at a stack of invitation cards. You peek in and see him pacing.

You: “Levi, what’s wrong?”

Leviathan: “It’s the Gala! There’s gonna be so many people there. What if I mess up? What if someone tries to talk to me and I freeze up?!”

You gently take his hands, grounding him.

You: “You’ll do great, Levi. And I’ll be there if you need me. We’re a team, remember?”

Levi calms down a little, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

Leviathan: “Y-Yeah, I guess you’re right. I mean, with you around, I don’t have to worry as much. You’re like my Player Two in this crazy multiplayer game called life.”

He hesitates, then smiles shyly.

Leviathan: “Thanks. I mean it. You’re, like… my favorite rare find.”

Library with Satan

Satan is in the library, scanning a shelf filled with ancient tomes. He looks up when you enter, a small smile playing on his lips.

Satan: “Perfect timing. I was looking for this.”

He hands you a book bound in emerald green, the title in golden script: "The Legends of the Infernal Gala."

Satan: “I thought you might like to know more about the Gala’s history. It’s fascinating, really—did you know it started as a peace treaty celebration?”

You sit together, flipping through the pages. At one point, your fingers brush, and Satan pauses.

Satan: “You always surprise me. You’re curious, thoughtful, and unafraid to stand by us—even when things get complicated.”

He leans closer, his voice softer.

Satan: “I hope you know how much that means to me."

Dressing Room with Asmodeus

Asmo is in his room, surrounded by a dizzying array of outfits. He twirls in front of the mirror, striking a pose.

Asmodeus: “Tell me, which one screams ‘absolutely irresistible’? This one, or…”

He switches to another outfit, beaming at you.

You: “They’re both amazing, Asmo. You always look stunning.”

Asmodeus: (grinning) “Oh, you always know just what to say. But you know what? I think I’ll wear something that complements you. After all, we’ll be the center of attention together.”

He steps closer, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

Asmodeus: “You have this way of making me feel… special. Like I don’t need to try so hard, because I’m enough just as I am. Thank you for that."

Kitchen with Beelzebub

Beel is in the kitchen, preparing snacks for the event. You help him arrange platters of food, the smell of freshly baked bread filling the air.

Beelzebub: “Thanks for helping. I usually just eat everything, but it feels nice to make something for others.”

As you finish, Beel offers you a piece of chocolate from the tray, his expression soft.

Beelzebub: “You’re always looking out for us. It makes me want to do the same for you.”

He smiles, his usual straightforward honesty shining through.

Beelzebub: “You’re like family to me… but also more than that. I’m glad you’re here.”

Attic with Belphegor

Belphie is lying on a pile of blankets in the attic, staring at the ceiling. You join him, and he shifts to make room.

Belphegor: “The Gala’s gonna be exhausting. Too many people, too much noise. But at least you’ll be there.”

He closes his eyes, his voice soft.

Belphegor: “You’re the only one who makes all this bearable, you know. Stay with me a while. Just you and me, away from everything else.”

You rest beside him, and for a moment, the world feels quiet.

Study with Lucifer

Lucifer is in his study, reviewing event schedules and security measures. He looks up as you enter, his expression softening.

Lucifer: “Ah, I was just going over the final details. It’s a relief to see you—you have a calming effect, even on someone like me.”

You share a quiet moment, the crackling of the fireplace filling the silence. Lucifer pours you a glass of Demonus, his movements elegant.

Lucifer: “The Infernal Gala represents unity, strength, and peace. But for me… it’s also a reminder of how far we’ve come.”

He gazes at you, his eyes filled with warmth.

Lucifer: “You’ve been a part of that journey. More than you realize.”

The calm shatteres

The next morning, you are in the gardens of the House of Lamentation, enjoying a rare moment of peace. The sky is a deep, rich purple, with faint stars twinkling above. Beelzebub joins you, carrying a tray of snacks.

Beelzebub: “You’ve been quiet today. Something on your mind?”

You: (smiling softly) “Not really. Just thinking about how calm everything feels right now. It’s… nice.”

Beelzebub: (sitting beside you) “Yeah. Feels like it’s been a while since things were this peaceful. Lucifer hasn’t yelled at anyone today, and Mammon hasn’t set anything on fire… yet.”

You both share a laugh, but before the moment can last, a faint tremor shakes the ground. Beel jumps to his feet.

Beelzebub: “What was that?”

A ripple of energy passes through the garden, and several flowers wilt instantly. The air feels charged, heavy. You feel a faint pulse from your pact mark, though you don’t fully understand it yet.

You and Beel rush inside the House of Lamentation, where chaos has already begun. Furniture is floating, magical items are malfunctioning, and the brothers are in disarray.

Mammon: (running around) “Somebody fix this! My wallet turned into a bat and flew off! That’s my life savings in there!”

Leviathan: (clutching his D.D.D.) “Do you know how many hours of gameplay I just lost?! This is worse than the Great Reset of Akuzon Prime!”

Lucifer: (trying to remain composed) “Everyone, calm down. Panicking will accomplish nothing.”

Belphegor: (yawning) “Wake me when this is over. Or don’t. I’m fine either way.”

You notice your pact mark faintly glowing whenever the chaos intensifies. Asmodeus steps in, looking alarmed.

Asmodeus: “Is it just me, or does the energy in the house feel… weird? It’s like something’s out of sync.”

Before anyone can respond, the chandelier shatters with a loud crash. Lucifer’s patience snaps.

Lucifer: “Enough! Everyone, to the Demon Lord’s Castle—now. Diavolo needs to hear about this immediately.”

Emergency Meeting with Diavolo

The group arrives at the Demon Lord’s Castle. Diavolo greets you all with a worried expression, his usual jovial demeanor replaced by a more serious air. Barbatos stands quietly by his side, his gaze sharp and observant.

Diavolo: “Ah, you’ve arrived. I trust you’ve noticed the disturbances, then?”

Lucifer: “Noticed is an understatement. The House of Lamentation is in complete disarray. What’s causing this?”

Diavolo’s expression tightens, and he motions for you all to take a seat.

Diavolo: “It’s more than just your house, Lucifer. The magical ley lines that run through the Devildom are experiencing unusual fluctuations. Spells are failing, spells are overloading… and the environment itself is becoming unstable.”

Diavolo remains silent for a short while before speaking again.

Diavolo: "Remember when a few months ago the Devildom moon begun moving closer to us? And how MC stopped it with the help of (name of the brother you chose in lesson 60)? I think it might be somehow related to all this.

Barbatos: (nodding gravely) “We’ve been monitoring the situation for the past few weeks, but the source remains elusive. The ley lines should remain stable, but we are seeing powerful surges in energy that we cannot explain.”

Simeon: (calmly interjecting) “It’s a troubling situation, indeed. I’ve been sensing something off as well, but I can’t make sense of it.”

Solomon: (looking up from his scrolls) “The balance between the realms is delicate. It’s entirely possible this disturbance has something to do with the convergence of magical energies—perhaps even beyond our realm’s control.”

Luke: (clutching his little angel staff nervously) “So... we’re all in danger?”

Mephistopheles: (snickering from the corner) “Well, that depends on what you call ‘danger.’ There’s always a way to spin these things to our favor, you know.”

Raphael: (stoically) “We need to investigate this matter thoroughly. If there’s a threat, we’ll need to handle it swiftly, for the sake of everyone’s safety.”

Thirteen: (suddenly appearing with a slight chuckle) “It’s always so serious when you guys talk like this. How about we enjoy the chaos a little bit?”

The group’s attention is drawn back to Diavolo, who remains focused despite the tension.

Diavolo: “We’ve heard your concerns. But I must ask, how does this all relate to the Infernal Gala? If these disturbances continue, it could be catastrophic.”

Lucifer: “The Gala is already under heavy scrutiny. If the realm’s stability is at risk, Diavolo, this could be a catastrophic blow to the reputation of the Devildom.”

Asmodeus: “Oh, I can’t imagine the disaster. The Gala’s atmosphere would be ruined if the magical energies continue to fluctuate like this. People will notice, and chaos would break out if they suspect anything is wrong.”

Beelzebub: (his voice low and serious) “If things continue like this, there’s a real danger of even the food and drinks being affected. Imagine the mess if everything starts malfunctioning at the event.”

Lucifer: “Exactly. And with all the high-profile guests we’re expecting… We must act swiftly.”

Diavolo stands up, his usual warmth replaced by a rare intensity.

Diavolo: “For now, I ask all of you to stay vigilant. If you notice anything unusual—anything at all—report it immediately. The Gala must go off without a hitch, for the sake of maintaining peace and stability. But we must also prepare for the possibility that something more sinister is at play.”

Barbatos: (calmly) “We will continue investigating, but please, if you feel anything strange—if there’s any oddity you experience—don’t hesitate to tell us. The more information we have, the better.”

Lucifer: (looking directly at you) “You, especially. I’m sure you’ve felt it, too. These disturbances seem… connected to you.”

The room falls silent again as all eyes shift toward you. You feel a weight settling on your shoulders, the pressure building.

Diavolo: (smiling reassuringly) “You’ve done well so far. But now, we must prepare for whatever comes next. The Gala is crucial, but our first priority must be understanding the root cause of these events. If there’s a connection between you and this instability… we’ll need to address it quickly.”

As you nod in response, a sense of foreboding fills the air. The once-bustling preparations for the Gala seem like a distant memory now, overshadowed by the uncertainty surrounding the disruptions.

A talk with Solomon

After the emergency meeting, you wander through the halls of the House of Lamentation, the weight of the situation pressing on you. The magical disturbances, the instability in the Devildom... you feel like you're on the edge of something bigger, but you can't quite grasp it.

A soft voice interrupts your thoughts.

Solomon: "You're still awake, huh? I figured you might be here."

You turn and see Solomon leaning against the doorframe, his usual playful expression replaced by one of concern. He steps into the hallway, his gaze never leaving you.

You: “I don’t understand any of this… It feels like everything’s connected, but I don’t know how or why.”

Solomon walks up to you, his footsteps slow and deliberate. He looks at you with a knowing look, as though he’s been waiting for this conversation.

Solomon: “I can see why you’re confused. The fluctuations... the disruptions in the ley lines, they’re not random. They’re a result of your presence here.”

You: (frowning) “My presence?”

Solomon: (nodding) “It’s complicated. There’s something about your connection to the brothers, your dual pacts, that’s causing the instability. It’s as if the power between you and them is... too much for the realms to handle.”

You feel a jolt of realization. The dual pacts. You hadn’t thought about the significance of them, but it makes sense now. Solomon's words seem to echo in your mind, each one a small revelation.

You: “So... you think the dual pacts are the reason this is happening?”

Solomon hesitates for a moment, then nods, his eyes serious.

Solomon: “I’m beginning to suspect that’s the case. The way your power interacts with theirs... it’s creating more energy than the ley lines can accommodate. It’s like a pressure building up, and when too much energy is focused in one place, the balance of the realms starts to break down.”

You swallow, trying to process it all. Your mind races through everything you’ve experienced—the strange pull of the pact mark, the disruptions, the growing tension. It all leads back to the pacts.

You: “But why now? Why is this only happening now?”

Solomon: (with a sigh) “It didn't start now. Actually it's been going on for a while now. Remember how the moon was getting progressively closer and closer a few months ago? I suspect that's also due to your magic. But for all I know the dual pacts were never meant to be this powerful. They’re an anomaly.”

You: “So, everything that’s happening... it’s my fault?”

Solomon: (softly) “Not your fault. But your presence, your bond with the brothers—it’s a key factor. I should’ve been more cautious. I knew the pacts were risky, but I didn’t expect something like this would happen.”

You feel your heart race as you try to understand the magnitude of what Solomon is telling you. The chaos, the disruptions... you feel like you’re at the center of it all, and it’s terrifying.

You: “How do we fix this?”

Solomon takes a step closer, his gaze softening. His hand gently rests on your shoulder, and you feel a comforting warmth from his touch.

Solomon: “We’ll figure it out. Together. The brothers... they’re linked to this too, and we’ll need their help. But we can’t do it alone. The dual pacts are too unpredictable.”

For a moment, you both stand in silence, the weight of his words settling in. The chaos, the stakes... it feels like everything is changing too fast. Yet, with Solomon’s presence, there’s a sense of calm. You find comfort in his understanding.

You: “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Solomon smiles, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that makes your heart flutter, though he doesn't say anything for a moment. He simply pulls you into a gentle embrace, holding you close, offering a silent promise.

Solomon: “You’ll never have to find out.”

You lean into his chest, the tension in your body slowly melting away. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, and for the briefest moment, the world outside feels a little more bearable.

Solomon: “We’ll fix this. We’ll make sure the Gala goes off without a hitch, and we’ll find the cause of all this. But until then... just know that I’m here.”

You look up at him, your voice quiet but firm.

You: “Thank you, Solomon. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like I’m... not alone in this anymore.”

Solomon’s smile deepens, and he leans in, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead.

Solomon: “You’re never alone, MC. Not with me by your side.”

The Pact’s Secret Emerges

Later that evening, while the brothers are asleep, you are drawn to the library by an inexplicable force. You find an old book glowing faintly on the shelf and open it. The pages are filled with ancient symbols you can’t understand. Suddenly, a familiar voice interrupts you.

Barbatos: (appearing silently behind you) “Curious, isn’t it? That book is one of the oldest records in the castle. It documents the nature of pacts and their potential… consequences.”

You jump in surprise, quickly closing the book.

You: “Barbatos! You scared me. I didn’t mean to—”

Barbatos: (smiling slightly) “You needn’t apologize. It’s no coincidence that you were drawn to this book.”

Barbatos steps closer, his gaze calm but piercing.

Barbatos: “Tell me, since your return from the past, have you noticed anything… unusual? A change in your magic, perhaps? Or a resonance with the brothers’ powers?”

You stiffen.

You: “What do you mean by ‘return from the past’? How do you know about that?”

Barbatos: (tilting his head slightly) “I am the steward of time. There are few events that escape my notice.”

Your eyes widen. You clutch the book tightly, unsure of how to respond.

You: “I… I haven’t told anyone except Solomon. How much do you know?”

Barbatos: “Enough to understand that your journey was no mere coincidence. It was necessary, though its ripple effects are only now beginning to manifest.”

You: “Ripple effects…? Are you saying all of this—the disturbances in the Devildom—are my fault?”

Barbatos: (softly) “Fault is a strong word. Responsibility, perhaps. But do not misunderstand—your presence here is essential. You hold the key to stabilizing the realm.”

Barbatos’ gaze sharpens as he steps closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper.

Barbatos: “However, I must warn you: secrets have a way of surfacing when the time is right. The truth will not remain hidden forever—not from the brothers, nor from yourself.”

He gestures toward the glowing book.

Barbatos: “Keep this between us for now. But be vigilant. The bonds you share with the brothers are deeper and more intricate than even you realize.”

After the encounter, Barbatos is in his room, standing over a magical map of the Devildom. Glowing lines represent the ley lines, which are flickering and unstable. He traces his fingers over the map, frowning as he notices a disturbing pattern.

Barbatos: (to himself) “The fluctuations are growing stronger, converging toward a single point. If this trajectory continues…”

He pauses, his expression darkening.

Barbatos: “…even the combined power of the brothers may not be enough to stop what’s coming.”

The map reveals the convergence point glowing ominously—a location deep within the Devildom that remains unidentified.

[speeedyquick1245]

I’ve started watching supernatural with my mom and I think it’s starting to already take over my life… My mom is getting into it really hard too. We are only on season 3 and my mom is calling Sam and Dean “our Sam and Dean” and “we got to see what happens to Sammy and Dean today.”

[lordandladywhistledown]

I love how Colin is surprised and taken aback when Marina says Penelope cares for him...

He's like: "Penelope?!??!?!! No way that she cares for me.... it's not like I send her more letters than anyone and she actually replies to them unlike my own family and it's not like she always smiles when she sees me and it's not like she tried to warn me not to marry a woman I barely knew and that she's the only one who seems to be interested in what I have to say about things. But Penelope???? No way she even thinks about me when I'm not there 😝😊🤪"

I feel like he doesn't understand that Penelope likes him until the very end of S2 and even then, he doesn't completely understand how deep her feelings are and that's then why he also doesn't understand that he has feelings for her, too. He's just stuck there thinking that's what normal friendships are like... he's so sweet and so so innocent

[shepscapades]

shep I was talking to my brother about dbhc xisuma as one does and mentioned that ask about not being able to puzzle xisuma's face together mentally and my brother joked that the reason you put the spoiler bars and such on his face is cause you cant draw his whole face yet 😂

anyway I might have talked his ear off about dbhc idk tho lmao

LMAOO NOOOO!!! MY SECRET FINALLY IS OUT!!! /silly

[kaythefloppa]

If Season 7 is going to have it be a recurring theme of character-focused/emotionally driven stories then uhm, when is an episode centering around a certain redeemed villain as well as covering the Rex-shaped hole in said villain's redemption arc going to happen?

I'm waiting.

[al-luviec]

compiled whatever this is (and I run out of tag space)

meh HoT gifs (3/?)

[a-shade-of-green]

yeah so that scene where mike kicks down the fort in his basement in s1 is definitely supposed to be paralleled by will taking down castle byers in s3. just if anyone cares about when mike turned his back on being a kid.

[heyimcelery]

Me on S2 ep6 of squid game: I have no idea why my brother said this season would be disappointing. This has been great so far. Of course it's going in a bit of a different direction from the original, no one wants to watch the exact same thing again. This is making sense for how the plot and message is progressing. Honestly I'm sure that it's just transphobes pissed that a trans woman and her identity is important this season.

Me on S2 ep7 of squid game: wtf was that????

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

(can be read as a standalone)

STEVE LOOKS AT HIS BIG EMPTY HOUSE AND THINKS FUCK IT

(ft. a heartbreaking realization followed bi gay panic and way more Eddie than initially intended. Also: Steve becomes a dad)

cw: drinking, mention of drugs, mentions of homophobia, Steve going through it once again

cool and correct steve playlist

Bullshit.

Steve is good at being alone.

He is even better at pretending that he isn't lonely. That being lonely and being alone is the same thing. Because not being alone is easy. He can do something against that. Throw a party. Fill his house with people until he can barely take a step without stumbling into someone. Say stupid shit in class so that everyone has no choice but to be aware of him. Study with Nancy even if the material refuses to get into his head no matter how often he reads over it and he just feels so fucking stupid. Drive the kids around even if their screaming gives him a headache (his mother said that headaches have always been in the family anyways).

Your love is bullshit.

In fact, he got so good at this over the years, that he almost started to believe it himself.

And isn't it funny how, as soon as he can't run away from the truth anymore, cannot deny that he is so fucking lonely that it hurts and that he has never not been, that he tries again and again but it never works and the problem must be with him, right? Even Nancy has Jonathan, and all Steve has is bullshit - as soon as he admits to himself that he is fucking lonely, he wants to be alone.

It isn't fair, because parties were always his escape. Music that is loud enough to drown out his pathetic heartbeat, longing and screaming for another one with every pump. Enough alcohol for him to lose count of how many days, weeks, months it has been since he last saw his parents. Enough bodies rubbing against one another that it starts to get hard to tell where one ends and the next begins.

And it is in a party that Nancy Wheeler breaks his heart. She takes that pathetic trembling little thing, with so much to give but nowhere, no one to give it to. She takes this wretched beating monstrosity and smashes it in her fists. Digs her nails into it and squeezes until he can't breathe. Grabs each end and opens it, rips it apart until he can't hide or run away anymore.

The music is so loud he can pretend that he didn't understand her for a few seconds longer. She drinks enough for her eloquence to leave her, for her to see straight into the heart of the whole shit show and to summaries everything in the most concise and yet fitting way possible. The alcohol finally gives her the courage to say what has been coming for months. You are bullshit, she says. You are alone, he hears. And the bodies that have been his refuge for so many years turn into obstacles getting in the way of fresh air.

As if fresh air can magically turn him into a decent person. (into someone who deserves love)

And suddenly he realizes how futile that all was. How stupid he is. Inviting people he barely spoke three words to into his empty house. Screaming into the void in a crowd of people until he can't differentiate his voice from the others anymore. He invited everyone so they could admire this character he wore like an ill-fitting mask - and then what? Did he want to be applauded for it? Congratulations, you force yourself to be what everyone around you wants, and YOU'RE STILL FUCKING ALONE.

He finally manages to go outside and he doesn't know what the fuck he is supposed to do now. There are still people everywhere. The air is still heavy with weed and smoke and vomit. His head aches to the beat of the music, although it might also be because of the tears he is trying not to let fall.

So there he is. In a party full of people and yet alone in a way he has never allowed himself to be before.

He wants to leave, but the thought of being in that empty house just makes his anxiety grow. He wants to go back inside, but the thought of the whole school being witness to Steve "The King" Harrington's Fall from Grace part 2: electric Boogaloo makes his skin crawl. He needs to be gone. He can't be alone. He needs to think. He can't bear the thoughts tormenting him in his head.

He sees a relatively empty patch of grass and runs. The fence digs against his back but he can barely feel it. He has never been so fascinated by good old boring grass as he is now.

"Oh wow, someone kick your puppy or something? You look so pathetic, I might even give you a discount, your highne- fuck are you crying?!"

Steve looks up and can't hold in the sigh that escapes him (he pretends to himself that it doesn't sound as tremulous as it does, thinks he can allow himself this one concession in this already disastrous night).

"No", he lies.

Now it makes sense, why this patch is so empty. Nobody wants to be seen spending time with Eddie "The Freak" Munson. The only reason he is even here is the metal lunchbox he always carries around. Steve always had a sort of admiration for him - not that he could ever let anyone know that. Because Steve was - as Nancy so kindly put it - bullshit. He laughed as Tommy shoved kids against the lockers because that was what was expected of the popular jock. He threw parties because that was what teenagers are supposed to do when it is the weekend and your parents aren't home. Girls he didn't even know the name of asked him out and he accepted because he could feel the entire school staring at the back of his neck. And as soon as he stopped doing that - when Nancy finally gave him the courage to say no when he didn't want to - everyone left him. Including Nancy.

But Eddie? Eddie didn't care. Eddie didn't give a fuck that people called him a girl because of his long hair, he just let it grow and it looked fucking good. Eddie didn't give a fuck that Tommy called him a fairy because of his painted nails and jewelry, he just put up his middle finger, showing off the biggest fucking ring Steve has ever seen. Munson is unashamedly himself and every year a new group of freshmen nerds join his table of weirdos. They only leave when they graduate.

Now, with alcohol buzzing in his veins and his heart shattered into a thousand pieces, he can admit that he is kind of...jealous. Munson is brave in a way Steve has never managed. He jumps on tables and screams about conformity or shit and he doesn't give a fuck. Hell, he brings his lunchbox full of drugs to school like it's the most normal thing in the world. (Sometimes he wonders whether some teachers know and that is the reason he can't get through his senior year.)

"Would be more convincing if you weren't currently sobbing, pretty boy." Eddie's arm is extended towards him, almost as if he is going to touch him. But when Steve looks up he quickly brings it back to his side.

He feels his cheeks heat up. "...pretty boy?"

He looks fascinated as Eddie takes a lock of his hair and twirls it around his finger. The ring finger in his left hand, to be more precise, ironically the only one not adorned with a ring. He vaguely wonders if that is intentional. Eddie's fingers are long and slim. Piano fingers, his father would say. Didn't he play in a band or something? He continues watching entranced as Eddie lifts his finger and starts chewing on his hair. His lips are chapped. Paired with his big brown doe eyes, the effect is weirdly.... adorable.

"-heart?". It is only when those ridiculously red chapped lips move that Steve realized that Eddie is talking to him. His gaze seems to betray his confusion because the older boy sighs and presumably repeats himself. "I asked, are you doing okay?! Jesus H. Christ I'd think I was dreaming except that you aren't on your knees"

Steve doesn't think he was supposed to hear this second part and he frankly does not have energy to unpack that, so he makes the executive decision to ignore it. He has also already failed in his quest to not cry, and the only person he wants to talk to is the current reason for his distress, so he thinks, fuck it. (It's not like Munson really counts as a person anyway, a voice whispers in his head, but he ignores it. He does not want to be that person anymore)

"I think my girlfriend just broke up with me"

"You think?!"

"I am pretty sure my girlfriend just broke up with me"

"What?!"

"I said-"

"No, I understand. I just find it hard to believe. A lowly peasant captures the heart of the king- nay, the emperor- nay, the god of this hellish kingdom we call Hawkins High. And she, without mercy or remorse-"

"Don't call me that." Eddie freezes, his hands still raised from wildly gesticulating before. Steve absentmindedly notes that his rings glimmer orange from the bonfire.

"Don't call me king or, or emperor or whatever-"

"God."

"whatever, because that's not me. I- I don't want to be that person anymore. I know I was an asshole and- and I want to do better. So...yeah."

"Stevie, Stevie, Stevie" He tries to ignore the goosebumps, tries not to stare too hard at the mouth lovingly forming this single word. When was the last time someone called him a nickname? Even Nancy just called him by his name. Maybe that was one of the signs he overlooked. Maybe- (stop thinking about it stop thinking about it stop thinking about it) (lonely lonely lonely lonely)

He looks back at Eddie and sees that he isn't looking at him anymore (big doe eyes just like hers) He follows the older boy's gaze hoping something will distract him from spiralling. He doesn't know why he feels disappointed when the goal turns out to be Billy Hargrove: cigarette in his cherry red lips, some girl he isn't even looking at under his arm, icy eyes so intense they seem otherworldly.

"Oh yeah, I forgot that you were dethroned. Really not your year, is it?"

And Steve isn't sure what it is. Maybe Nancy's words are only now really sinking in. The fact that now he has neither girlfriend nor friends. Maybe it is the shame of realizing that Eddie actually isn't a bad guy, that he used to make his life hell for no fucking reason. And maybe a petty part of him is angry at how easily Billy filled the whole he left, how years of friendship apparently mean nothing to Tommy and Carol. Maybe he hates himself for missing them sometimes, even though he knows that they aren't the kind of people he wants to associate himself with. Or maybe it's just fucking infuriating how fucking big and warm Eddie Munson's fucking eyes look in the orange light. All he knows is that one second he is talking to Eddie "The Freak" Munson with blood roaring in his ears and the next he is sitting in his car. He grips the steering wheel so tightly his fingers turn white. One blink and he is parking on his driveway, another and the door is slamming shut behind him. (Dad will be mad, the ten year old in him cries, but he tells him to shut up, too)

And here he is now, sitting on his ridiculous white leather sofa staring at his grey concrete walls. (alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone)

When his father is home, he almost exclusively spends time in his study. The one Steve isn't supposed to go into. And yet he is also the one who meticulously planned the living room. The whole house, really. He saw pictures in a business magazine and ordered someone beneath him to get it done. Everything is color coordinated: grey and white and the occasional pop of brown. It doesn't look like people are supposed to live in it. It is lifeless and clinical and Steve feels like an intruder in his own home. But he doesn't dare change anything. Once his mom tried to place a red vase with purple flowers on the coffee table. The fight ended with her sleeping in a hotel for a month.

Steve can handle sleeping in a hotel. It isn't like it would be all too different from his current situation. If he had to finance it on his own it would be a different story, but his parents would never allow him to sleep in the streets. He can already hear his mother's shrill voice "what would that look like, Stephen?!"

What Steve can not handle is being the only living being inside these trist walls.

(alone alone alone alone)

The thought is so overwhelming that he breaks into his father's liquor cabinet. When he finally falls asleep, bottle still in hand, he dreams of flowers and trees and waterfalls and life.

--

The next day he takes an aspirin against the pounding in his brain and drives to the hardware store. (He will probably be too scared to actually go through with it if he has the ability to think clearly). He parks his Beemer (please don't get dirty with soil please don't get dirty with soil shit maybe he should've brought plastic plane or something to cover the leather seats) and waves hello to the poor guy manning the register (he thinks he remembers him laughing around Billy yesterday night. He slams the door extra hard behind him and can't help the schadenfreude when he sees him flinch. It hurts like a bitch but it's completely worth it) and goes straight to the plant section.

For a moment he just stands there. It feels kind of insane. Here he is, standing in front of a shelf filled to the brim with living beings. Beings that need oxygen and sun and nutrients and water just like him. And he can just buy them for like five dollars. What the heck. (Is he just going to be trafficking a bunch of little guys into his house?!?! he feels a weird mix of fear and excitement when he realizes that he will actually have to take care of everyone he decides to take home with him. He will be needed.)

He sees a plant with leaves so large that it is almost pushing it's neighbours out of the shelf and into the deadly hard floor below. It kind of reminds him of Mike, the way that little asshole is always trying to get him to leave Na- to leave his sister alone. (Do not think of Nancy do not think of Nancy) (Bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit) (alone alone alone alone)

The thought is so amusing he immediately adds the newly dubbed Mike Jr. into his cart. (For a moment he feels incredibly idiotic. What would the others think if they saw him?! Naming a plant he is only buying because he has no friends. But then he remembers that the entire reason for this little trip is that there isn't anyone to stop him, so he proudly glares at Mike Jr. in his cart like a disgruntled mother and continues on in his journey.) The next few minutes (hours? days? time is a social construct anyway) are spent trying to find the leafy reincarnation of the rest of the little party. Max gets a cactus with a beautiful pink flower blooming at the top. Dustin gets a succulent that falls on his foot like the fucking menace it is and is still somehow in one peace. Hard-headed just like it's namesake, Steve thinks and adds it to the cart. Picking the one hanging from the ceiling with the leaves majestically growing towards the ground because it reminds him of El's nosebleeds may be kind of morbid, but as long as Hopper never finds out it should be fine. Lucas gets the tall ones that almost look like a miniature palm tree. (He finds it kind of genius. Steve isn't sure what exactly it is about miniature trees that tickles his fancy, but Tall Lucas may be his favorite. Don't tell the others.) Human Lucas is the tallest of the bunch and is starting to show interest in basketball, which gets Steve weirdly emotional when he can't sleep at night. Will is the hardest. He is the quietest of the bunch and he doesn't drive him around as often as the others because his mother doesn't want to let him out of her sight. He settles for a bamboo in the end. It fascinates him to see it thriving even though it is so far away from home.

When he is preparing himself to leave, his eyes catch a bright yellow flower. (Rings glimmering in the orange light). He doesn't think too hard about it when Eddie Senior finds it's way into his cart.

On the way home he stops by the library. He doesn't think he has ever been here unless Nancy forced him. He's surprised at the amount of people that are actually here. He picks out as many books about botanics as he can take home at once (he may not be a fan of reading, but he will bear it for the sake of his new roommates). Back in the house he places all his kids on the coffee table (ha, suck it dad!), makes himself the biggest cup of coffee with a frankly concerning amount of espresso shots, and sleeps for the rest of the day.

When he wakes up the sun has already set. (nobody noticed he had been gone all day). He looks at the books, looks at the plants, and makes the executive decision not to go to school on Monday. Only to be able to take better care of his new charges, of course, no other reason. (He can already hear the whispers. "Oh how the mighty have fallen" "did you see that his girlfriend dumped him?" "look how pathetic, all alone" "dethroned")

He expects to need to force himself through each page. He expects to return the books without opening even half of them. He expects to just give up and abandon his babies in a park or something, it's not like they can be home when his father returns anyway.

What he does not expect is to be wakened out of his trance-like state by his own growling stomach. The first thing he is aware of is that the sun is already high up in the sky. The second is that he really really needs to pee. And eat. And drink. And find the exact right spot with the perfect amount of sunlight for each plant. And make a plan of when he has to water each one. And make sure that the vases are all big enough for the plants to properly thrive. And go buy the correct soil.

Maybe he would feel a bit bad if Nancy was still up his ass about school and attendance and punctuality and all this shit (don't think about her don't think about her don't think about her) but as things are he runs to the bathroom, whips up a quick Spaghetti al Sugo and runs back to the hardware store.

He tries to remember everything he learned. Apparently Will The Strong is actually a bamboo-type that is native to North America (the so-called arundinaria appalachiana) but that is fine, too. He should probably get bigger vases for all the plants now that he is thinking about it, even if they don't necessarily need it they deserve to have a bit more space. Would it be overkill to get a sun lamp?? Steve makes to horrifying realization that the store in Hawkins does not have Cactus or Succulent soil on sale (seriously, this is so ridiculous. How can you sell cacti with a straight face and not have any soil for it in the shop?!) He goes back to his car and goes to the next town over. (He goes a bit over the speed limit but nobody catches him so it is fine. The thought of leaving his beloved plants alone for too long make him feel kind of bad for some reason.)

It is there that the shopkeeper shows him the marvelous world of Bonsai. They are like Tall Lucas, but better. Because they are real trees, like the big ones, but in small. They can even grow real fruit. And the fruit keeps it's original size, even if the tree is tiny. Steve sees a mini apple tree and it is fucking love at first sight. He leaves the store with five new roommates (he has to find them a name on the drive home), more vases than he actually needs (they just looked so pretty, it would be cruel to make him choose), a watering can he doesn't actually need (he will have to look this object in the eyes every fucking day he deserves to actually choose it okay), more types of soil than he thought existed and two books about Bonsai.

(he finds it fascinating for some reason. Taking something as tall and strong and imposing as a tree and taking it into your home. Having something so fragile be dependent on your own two hands. Bonsais are not easy, the clerk had said. You need to be careful, gentle, loving. Cut their leaves every day. It shows when you don't take proper care of them, even if it is just a single day.)

--

He knows this is a fight he cannot win, but as soon as Hargrove dares to put his hands on Lucas any rational thought leaves him. The last thing he sees is a fist coming towards his face. The last thing he hears is a plate breaking somewhere above. Then everything is dark.

When he comes to he is in a car. He needs a second to recognize the car as his own. He needs another to realize that nobody else in the car should actually be driving. He wishes he didn't have that second realization, he has enough of a headache as it is. The only thing worse than finding out that a twelve year old is driving his beloved BMW is knowing where exactly she is driving them to.

When he sees the monster coming, he knows he can't let it get to the kids. He is the oldest. (He is alone). He will make sure that those fucking dipshits make it back home if it is the last thing he does.

When he knows that he is not going to make it out of this one alive, when he feels it in the depth of his bones that it is either him or the kids and truly, is that even choice to begin with?, he thinks of his plants. He feels bad for Rose Nylund and Dorothy Zbornak. His miniature trees were coming along so well....

--

Apparently it is not abnormal to lose ones brain-mouth filter for a bit when one has a concussion. Or ones ability to think clearly.

After everything is done for the second (and hopefully last) time. Hopper says they should have another Congratulations We Survived This Shit Again-dinner, and Joyce looks so devastated Steve doesn't have the heart to say no even though his head still isn't 100% back to normal (the doctors said that maybe it never will, but he tries not to think about that.)

This one is somehow worse than the first. The first thing Hopper does is loudly complain about the lack of Lasagna on the table. Steve sits as far away from Nancy as possible and tries not to look at her. (Tries not to look at her and Jonathan's intertwined hands). She tries to speak with him, but he somehow manages to avoid her. Hopper tries to force the Byers into conversation, but they just stare into their plates with a faraway look.

Unsurprisingly it is Mike who starts it, the little shit could never pass up the chance to make fun of him. He screams about how Steve kept talking about leaves and trees and plants and about watering "his kids", and Steve doesn't say anything because Mike's voice sounds so tiny and desperate in the silence and it hurts him in his very soul. Dustin adds that he sometimes spoke in another language, and he thinks the looks of horror on their faces are a bit exaggerated when he reveals that he is half-italian from his mother's side.

He ends up showing them his babies, and the kids somehow manage to weasel their names out of him. Max looks appropriately smug when she sees her badass cactus, and Dustin is insulted when he sees his Succulent. He does not look happier when Steve explains the origin story. (He changes the subject when Will quietly asks why the bright yellow flower is called Eddie)

--

He starts driving Max back home from school while Billy isn't allowed to drive. Nobody knows how the drugs got into his system. (He has his suspicions but sometimes it's just easier not to ask)

One day she enters the car with dirt underneath her nails and a bouquet of Petunia in her hands. "This is Non-Concussed Steve", she proclaims proudly. "It doesn't look like it, but it is actually very resilient". Just like you, she doesn't say, but he hears it anyway. He tries not to cry and fails spectacularly.

Unexpected talent #2: gardening

-> a comprehensive list of all of Steve's babies

[joeylivesinspace]

duffers apologize to jonathan byers RIGHT NOW

[markantonys]

readers were upset about the prime x-ray spoiling show-onlys by naming rand's mom tigraine in s1, but counterpoint: the show actually should explain rand's full heritage as quickly as possible because i cannot have show-onlys refusing to get invested in randlayne because they think a secret-sibling shoe is going to drop

[harrowscore]

just imo, but a.rcane's s2 act ii was... weak. and below average for the series' standards (usually quite high)

[aimlessetymology]

misty's greatest crime was saving coach ben