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riisinaakka-draws · 4 years

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part 2/6

2nd part of my old Black Sails scraps and doodles from 2016–2021. Not in any particular order.

This time the drawings are short comics that were abandoned for a reason or another, mostly because I lost the interest or felt like there was too much to redraw compared to the satisfaction of finishing something else more interesting. There’s also some talk about rigid mindset and how overthinking can lead to stagnation.

Contains early silverflint moments, specks of dust, rackham's glasses are found, jealous-Billy spying, desk-Flint gets caught, "squint-squint", a quiet moment and its bird dilemma etc.

And please do not steal and repost elsewhere. But if you do get inspired, feel free to make your own interpretations!

Long-ish post under the cut!

“What are you thinking about?”

“Specks of dust.”

“Liar.”

The idea was to show how much they and their relationship had changed. This was around 2016 when the season 3 began and I was still re-learning to draw with a tablet. Another art from the same time period (and idea) is this art: The Dynamic Duet.

And for some reason I was really stuck up thinking that I’d have to first do the sketch, then the clean line art, then planes underneath, then shadows etc. and I have always struggled with that kind of approach! Mainly because I hate doing clean line work, lol. And I was a fool for trying to start with a white canvas! It’s so much harder to find values and plan things, or at least in my opinion..

“Rackham’s glasses are found”

To celebrate their new pirate alliance, they share the four lenses of Rackham’s sunglasses as they were also found at the time (because I wanted it to resurface and they could be made into jewellery you know...). This was right after the episode where Anne fights and hurts her hands (here wearing protecting mittens from Max even though she’s not trusted at the moment). Uh, this doesn’t spark joy interest me much and it’s quite stiff and would recuire a lot of redrawing faces, so - discarded!

I somewhat like the idea still (them having something to share, although it’s on Jack’s detriment). I tried to find a stylished comical easier doodlier? way to draw them and draw clean lines etc, but it just wasn’t for me. Also here too, the background is blank and too bright. Later I started to think things as scenes and draw everything at the same time instead of adding the bg later or trying to show everything (and everyone) at the same time.

Here’s also Billy in the same story:

He’s spying on them and since it’s so bright he’s wearing his diy “sunglasses” and being envious to the others. *cough* uhhh...Idk? Also people were shipping Ben Gunn (and cheese) with Billy, so that bled into this too... Charles’ spirit is riding the “big white bird” that was mentioned in Teach’ story and in this case it’s a pelican.

As you can see, I also wasn’t using the brushes that I use nowadays. A hard (or soft) round brushes with no change in opacity just aren’t for me. For example, in traditional art, I struggle with markers and copics, but really enjoy charcoals and watercolours. I prefer ragged edges, layering and thus blending things into each other (and leaving the viewer to fill in the gaps) instead of having stark or definite things. I also struggle with vector drawings, although I have decided to finally start learning to use them...somedayyyy.

Also, I wasn’t paying attention to anatomy, like, at all LMAO. I was just so happy to be able to put something on the canvas.

This is one of my first ink drawings, but I cannot find the original anymore. Again, I like the idea, but not how things look art-wise. And I was so adamant, that I have to get everything right in the traditional drawing and not fix anything later on on photoshop because then it would be cheating. And thus, I was never able to move on or finish this properly the way I liked it (idiot).

BUT! It was a good practise to just draw and test things on paper and gain confidense on drawing things in overall (as I was still getting back into art). To get over the fear of blank paper you know, and try to find my style whatever it would start to form into.

Oh, yeah, Desk Flint.

Desk Flint was a thing for a while (still is, lol). Another drawing from that time is this Slingshot Pirate (2016). And Desk Flint keeps repeating in many later works too. The point is mainly “Flint sitting behind his desk and people interrupt him and I don’t have to draw him fully”

Well, anyway... moving on.

Here’s a plan that has been stuck for years. It’s name is “Squint-squint.” Left is the sketch (with another sketch underneath because the expressions were clearer in the old one). On the right is the continued piece with colour scheme but I cropped the eyes panel and faces out (it was so ugly for some reason) but if I ever continue/finish this, it will be redrawn there in the middle.)

Left. “On that moment their eyes were literally open(ed).”

Right. “After squinting on the shore for days, they had actually forgotten how pretty the other idiot’s eyes were.”

I still like it, quite a lot, but my perfectionist ass only sees too much “boring” things to draw and get right, so it hasn’t been a priority for a long time and other works have kept me occupied and more interested in them.

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“Quiet Moment.” 2018 (a wordless comic happening after the events of Charles Town)

I’m going to explain after these pictures, but see how big the difference is when you start to look at references and plan things together (the space, “camera” movement, background etc). I also started to colour with coarser brushes:

I drew this around early 2018. A lot of improvement! Still quite a lot of negative space (empty white backgrounds), but it fits this work. A few things tell where we are (the ship’s cabin and the balcony). Changing distances and how things are cropped/framed make things more moving and focused (and less to draw, lol). Colours and brush strokes are softer, more layered and so on.

But guess why it’s still a wip!

I couldn’t decide what bird is flying over there.

Yeap! At first it was an albatross (doesn’t go to Bahamas?). Then a seagull (but which seagull? there’s so many subspecies! Is the ship at sea or at the harbour? what birds are there on the open water/ close to the shore?? oh noo...) So, yeah, wayyyy too much over-thinking.

At some point I ended up with white-tailed-tropic-bird which was a plus! because it sounds like the bosun’s whistle, but at that point I was so tangled and frustrated and still had so much to finish with this that I left it be. Also Flint’s face looks different in every frame so I would’ve had to change some parts, lol. And then I forgot it for a couple of years! And then I had learned to draw a bit differently and again saw too much things to do, so it’s quite hard to take on this again, especially when there are so many other interesting wips waiting...

But I still really like the feeling of it! And the colour scheme. So I might just limit the things I’m allowed to fix and then post it as it own someday. I mean, it’s 90% finished, but the last reach just feels like miles.

And that’s what usually happens with my wips. They reach a certain point and it suddenly becomes really hard to finish or get back into.

But every time I learn things and then use the information in another work! :D

Final note for this post (altough this has been said hundreds of times): use references and look how things go and try to see the structure and form beneath things. And think where it is happening and how the light and surroundings affects the characters and/or spaces. And maybe think what you’re trying to convey with the art, what idea? what emotions? what purpose? or like, what are you trying to learn with the piece? and so on...

Thanks for checking this out, I hope you had fun <3

#black sails doodle #long post #but not as long as the future ones heh #tag for Block Spoils doodles #<- if you want to black list these

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hopelesshawks · 4 years

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Official Accounts Part 29 (Bakugo Route)- Heavy

Summary: (y/n) was perfectly happy remaining anonymous, even if her best friends were all pro heroes and she worked under THE Hawks. Handling the technical aspects of hero work from the background suited her just fine, thank you very much. That goes out the window when suddenly her twitter blows up thanks Denki and the famed no. 2 hero is asking her to run his own official twitter as a result

If you don’t want to see Official Accounts content blacklist #hopelessoa

Masterlist

You walk into your apartment somewhat exhausted. You’d spent the whole day doing hardware fixes and tinkering with some of the new equipment the commission had sent over. You greatly preferred software so days you are primarily doing hardware work are always harder. For a moment you forget you aren’t occupying your home alone, and then suddenly you hear the sound of your kettle whistling. You wander into the kitchen to find Keigo grabbing out two mugs. His wings are finally starting to grow back in earnest although they’re still too small to fly with. Seeing them reminds you of small cherub wings almost and every so often you’ll catch him fluttering them just a little bit as if to confirm they’re really there. You notice a few of his feathers rifling through your tea cabinet to find your favorite before dropping a bag in each mug. The sight makes you smile.

“Isn’t your spot typically on the counter little techie?” Keigo asks, interrupting your thoughts as he pours the hot water. You hop up on the counter and take the mug he offers you. “That it is Kei,” you smile. “You sent your friends to check on me,” he replies casually as he moves to lean against the counter just like that first time the two of you had tea together. “I did,” you confirm. “Thank you. I hated it but I needed it. So thank you.”

The two of you lapse back into silence for awhile. It’s different this time. Not uncomfortable per say, but there’s a weight to the silence. You can tell Keigo wants to say something but can’t quite get himself to. Perhaps he’s searching for the perfect wording to express his thoughts. Perhaps he isn’t sure he’s truly ready to share them at all. Regardless, you wait patiently. You wait patiently even as your tea cools. You wait patiently even as you start to drink it. You’re still waiting patiently as you finish off your tea and Keigo’s grip tightens around his still full mug in apparent frustration. You put your own mug down before carefully prying Keigo’s away from him. He waits for the moment you ask what’s wrong, a sense of failure already sinking in because even with how much he’s let his guard down around you he still can’t completely let go. He dreads the moment you ask because he just knows he won’t be able to tell you and it will break your heart again. He braces himself. And then you ask your question: “Wanna get high for the first time?”

He blinks at you, surprised, and wonders how you do it. How did you know he wouldn’t be able to handle disappointing you again? “Sure,” he finally replies. “I’ll meet you on the balcony,” you tell him with a small smile before hopping off the counter and heading to your bedroom, where Denki had left the remaining weed from the party the other night. By the time you head to the balcony, the door is open and Keigo is sitting on the floor outside, staring up at the sky. You close the door behind you as you step out to join him before taking a seat next to him. He watches as you somewhat clumsily roll a joint for the two of you. “Denki has always been better at this than I am,” you chuckle sheepishly. “I think you’re doing great,” Keigo responds. “Of course you would. You have no idea what great rolling looks like,” you tease before procuring a lighter from your pocket. “Ok, so here’s how this goes,” you start, “if you don’t want to cough here’s the trick. First bring the smoke into your mouth, hold it there for a second, and then inhale more and bring it into your lungs. Got it?” “Got it.” “Good.”

You put the joint to your lips and carefully light it. You take your time drawing it in and Keigo can’t help but think there’s something strangely beautiful about the way you do it. When you’ve finished you pass it to him and watch as he carefully follows your directions. You resist the urge to giggle at how serious he looks. “Relax Keigo, that’s kind of the point,” you tease. He rolls his eyes but does his best to not think quite so much on his second hit. After you’ve each taken a few hits, you give him a considering look and then decide to address what had made you invite him to smoke with you in the first place. “Look I’m not saying you should make weed the answer every time you’re struggling to open up. I refuse to be the reason the number two hero picks up a drug addiction. But you also looked like you were going to give yourself an aneurysm trying to say whatever it is you wanted to say. So we’re going to sit here and smoke and it will mellow you out and if you decide you can and want to say whatever it is that was on your mind in the kitchen that’s great. If not, well, that’s fine too,” you assure him. The thank you Keigo gives you is quiet but genuine, and you cherish it all the more for it.

After an hour, Keigo finally speaks. “I owe you an explanation,” he confesses, but he won’t look you in the eyes. Instead he stares straight ahead, looking frustrated. “What do you mean?” you ask. “I owe you an explanation for why I did what I did but I can’t,” he pauses gritting his teeth and your heart breaks a little when you notice his eyes are watering, “I can’t make myself say it.” “It’s ok Keigo.” “No it’s not! Don’t you think you deserve to fucking know why I broke your heart?” “Of course I do!” “Then why are you saying it’s ok?” “Because you’re my friend!” “What if I want to be more than that.” “Romantic relationships aren’t more than platonic ones Kei. They’re just different.”

The two of you lapse back into a heavy silence. “I shouldn’t have yelled,” Keigo finally sighs once the silence becomes too much. “Lay down,” you tell him and he gives you a confused look but does as told anyway, you shift so his head is in your lap and then begin stroking through his hair. “You keep having to comfort me,” he notes with a certain amount of frustration. “That’s what friends are for,” you shrug. “I’m starting to think I’m a bad friend.” “You’re just still learning.” “That’s a nice way of putting it.” “Let’s talk about something else. No more heavy stuff,” you decide. “We could talk about how aggressively Endeavor doesn’t understand twitter and internet culture,” Hawks suggests half-jokingly. “I am way too high to talk about that asshole right now,” you reply rolling your eyes and then immediately realize your mistake. You freeze a little in place, your hand stilling in Keigo’s hair as he asks “What do you mean by that?” “Don’t worry about it Kei, neither of us are in the headspace to talk about it. I said no more heavy stuff.” “So whatever it is is heavy?” he presses as he sits back up. “I’m serious Kei. You’re not gonna like what I have to say, let’s just drop it for the night and we can talk about it later,” you sigh. “Or we can talk about it now.” “Drop it.” “Tell me.” “No.” “Tell me!” “No!” “(Y/n) I swear to god-“ “Endeavor was fucking abusive alright!?” you finally blurt out.

Keigo reels back as if you’ve struck him and it hurts to see. “No. No you’re lying,” he insists. “I’m not,” you sigh. “You have to be!” “Why would I lie about this?” “You’ve never liked Endeavor.” “Yea because I was in class with one of his sons who, by the way, can still barely stand him.” “That doesn’t mean he was abusive.” “No it doesn’t.” “Then what makes you so sure!”

You know he’s not going to like your answer but it’s too late to back out now. It hurts to fight with him and it hurts to see him looking so desperate for you to be wrong but you’re in too deep now, you have to finish the conversation. “Dabi told me,” you finally confess. “Oh well, if Dabi told you,” Hawks rolls his eyes. “Oh fuck you, don’t make it seem like I’m so gullible,” you fire back, getting angry now. “Maybe you are! Of course Dabi would say some shit like that. Anything to take down Endeavor.” “And why exactly do you propose he hates his father so much? If not because he was abusive.” “I don’t know! But you’re wrong about Endeavor, I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for him! If he hadn’t saved me and-“ “Just because he saved you doesn’t mean he’s incapable of hurting someone else!” “I thought you were smarter than this!” “Yea well I thought you trusted me more than this so I guess we’re both disappointed!” you fire back.

The frustrated tears you’d been holding back finally start to fall and you hate it. You hate that you’re so angry, you hate that Hawks won’t see sense, and you hate that you’re crying. Regardless your tears are what finally make him realize how ugly the conversation is getting. “Shit, (y/n), I’m sorry I-“ “Don’t,” you cut him off before he can finish. You stand up without another word and go back inside, heading straight to your room and slamming the door behind you. The guilt crawling up Keigo’s throat is immediate. You had tried to warn him that now wasn’t the time for the conversation and instead he had pushed and insisted and now everything was fucked.

Mirko is going to kill him.

He pulls out his phone with every intention of calling her for advice on how to fix the mess he’s made but he stops as his eyes fall on Endeavor’s name instead. It’s a horrible idea. He still feels raw from his argument with you and Endeavor is probably asleep anyway. He should wait until tomorrow.

He doesn’t wait.

His heart starts racing in his chest as he selects Endeavor’s number and holds his phone up to his ear to wait. The line rings and rings and for a minute Keigo is convinced that Endeavor really won’t answer but then there’s a click and suddenly Endeavor’s rough voice is answering “Hello?” Keigo could swear his heart stopped beating altogether. This was a mistake. He should hang up and just call Mirko like his original plan was. But at the same time he needs to know. He needs to know he didn’t just blow up at you for no reason. “Hawks are you there? Are you in danger?” Endeavor tries again. “Is it true?” Keigo finally manages to ask and it’s so quiet he’s a little surprised Endeavor heard him. “Is what true?” Endeavor replies cautiously. Hawks feels his grip tighten on the phone as his stomach starts to sink. “Is it true what you did to Shoto and Dabi?” Hawks tries again. The line stays silent for a long time. Too long. “I’m trying to atone,” is all Endeavor says.

Hawks immediately hangs up the phone.

He can feel his world view crumbling around him as the pieces fall into place. It explains a lot. It explains why the HPSC has been so tight lipped about Dabi being Endeavor’s son, it explains why the son of a top hero would grow up to become a ruthless villain, it explains why Shoto so rarely interacts with his father. He should’ve just listened to you. Why didn’t he listen to you? He should apologize.

Hawks stands and goes back inside, closing the balcony door behind him. He has every intention of going to apologize and talk to you but instead he watches the front door close behind you as you leave the apartment without so much as a goodbye.

Author’s Note: OOF this hurt to write but I’m very excited to get started on the Bakugo route! If you read the main route there will be some similarities between the two (as you could tell from the first few paragraphs of this part) but obviously we’re gonna see some major deviations that lead to (y/n) ending up with Bakugo instead. I hope y’all enjoy!

Taglist [open]: @maltese-sparrow @someweirdshitman

#hopelessoa #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki

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taglegend · 4 years

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Tag Fact #3 - I’ve come to realize I’ve always been a fan artist more than I thought. so here is a timeline of influences that shaped my childhood to now. from nostalgic times, to sad changes, to great loss, to strange rises to fame and phases, to stepping stones and finally a laughing place. all the things that make up your favorite fan artist Tag.

1. Rayman (bumped into this in the year of 1999) was actually the first fandom (with crossovers) I bumped into when I was 9. although the internet wasn’t available at the time it was still fun to dwell in home amusements. I remember the storylines and the OC’s I made but they’re kind of embarrassing and it’s probably a good thing there was no internet. I’ve done fanart and comic crossovers of Rayman with Calvin and Hobbs and Nights Into Dreams, spinoffs of Sonic the Hedgehog OC’s, Yoshi with Pikachu, and the Pokemon/Digimon craze with OC’s and other Nintendo comic shorts. but the drawings and comics are long gone and disappeared in the garage in a backpack due to suspecting my sister’s dad accidentally throwing them away. years later towards the year 2018 (now 28), we decided to move to North Carolina and it was my chance to find them again. unfortunately the backpack was gone just like I suspected (my main stuff), but for some reason I found my Pokemon/Digimon fanart, a good batch of Super Mario drawings (vaguely remember doing these), my sister’s drawings and some other neighborhood kids’ drawings in a dirty box. I was partially happy I found something at least but it was the backpack I wanted the most. sometimes I regret not looking for the backpack (’cause I was too busy being a kid) but it’s alright, noone needs to see that shit anyway, ha ha. anyways, I recall being a fan of Rayman from 1999 ‘til 2002.

2. Sonic Adventure 2 Battle (bumped into this in the year of 2003) my second fandom I bumped into when I was 12 going on 13. at the time, my sister and I both liked the Sonic The Hedgehog Franchise based on the Battle remake and ended up making our own secret fanart club that consisted of only us two members. she liked Sonic (and that was her boyfriend, ha ha) and I liked Knuckles (and he was my boyfriend, ha ha) and we were crazy in love about Shadow’s backstory. we listened to the game’s soundtracks as we drew fanart and comics after school and man, those were good times. however, as we grew older towards the year of 2005, we ended up having separate rooms and I believe it played a part in disconnecting on the same interest. then one day, I asked her why she wasn’t into Sonic anymore and she replied, “Because I grew up.” I was sad after that and slowly observed that she was influenced by the emo culture and the new friends she’s made. I was the only member of our little club for a little longer...but eventually I moved on too. I still have some surviving fanart we did together but it doesn’t mean shit anymore since she turned out to be an abusive mother from the last I’ve heard of her.

3. Gorillaz (bumped into this in the year of 2006). as the Sonic years were at its end, I first heard the song “Feel Good Inc” on Music Choice and seeing the first image of them as displayed on this post (except the fan-made background doesn’t count since I can’t find the original artwork). this was my third fandom and later had proper access to the internet to the website I still currently use called DeviantArt. at first I liked 2D but eventually fell for Murdoc and developed a spiritual connection towards the character as obviously seen in my old fanart and rare photos of my devotion shrines on Valentine’s Day and his birthday every year. for the longest time since being a permanent fan from 2006-2017 (11 1/2 years) I had no knowledge that it was a political propaganda band and other realizations I don’t want to talk about. I only followed them because it was a cartoon and not the bullshit behind the musical project. the world I’ve built and support for them for all those 11 1/2 years shattered the fuck out of me and I just wanted to be left alone to find myself again, somehow. activity stopped on all my profiles, the flow of fanart stopped since I now cringe from the fan service and felt I was used for my talent. I didn’t want to be reminded of it all so I took down all my Gorillaz fanart and archived them for old followers’ nostalgia but also in the hopes they’ll be forgotten in my timeline. I ceased to exist in the fandom for huge personal reasons but it’s best to not say why. I know for sure that the fandom wonders what happened but it’s none of their business. THE END.

4. Waluigi (although I knew he’s been around since 2000 during childhood, I took deep interest once I revisited the character again in the year of December 2013). as silly as this sounds, when I revisited him again, the character was so bizarre that I ended up staying up 3 nights and 3 days in a row just looking all over the internet on everything about him and the questionable “hush-hush” absence of a backstory. despite there being no backstory he slowly gained a cult following and in many ways it’s a good thing. however, since the early 2010′s tension has been building up between Nintendo and its fans about him starring in a main game but everyone hasn’t fully gotten it in their heads that it’s not gonna happen. as long as Nintendo is in control of that, the fandom will not win, I’m sorry to say. on the other hand, if it’s going to be this way, then that’s what fanart and comic projects are for. as for me, I am doing my very best to get my comic project “Waluigi Land” going. again, I apologize if it’s taking very long to get Chapter 2 going if you’ve been keeping track but aha moments need to develop before I start permanent drawing (since concepts, character design and storyline needed improvement badly). as of right now I am still a Waluigi fan and I will not quit on him.

5. Turbo from Wreck-It-Ralph (although it debuted in 2012, I watched the movie two years later into the year 2014). for some bizarro reason, I had an unhealthy obsession with this character to the point where I dressed up as him for Halloween 2014. only 2 fanarts of him and the Turbo Twins exist on my profiles, mainly because my mind was more focused on just ‘thinking about him’ or ‘being him’ rather than drawing physical drawings. luckily, this supposed alleged fandom didn’t last long a little after Halloween so I chalk it up as a very short phase. to this day I don’t know what has gotten over me about him. the only thing I can think of now is that I think it’s because the character had yellow eyes and teeth but I don’t know. now that I think of it, that little fucker was ugly as hell and I STILL don’t know what had gotten over me. one day, my brother mentioned what that was about, and I said to him, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

6. Undertale (although it debuted in 2015, I later took interest in it in 2016). It was all about Sans and Papyrus. I couldn’t get enough of the skeleton bros. eventually Toriel and Mettaton EX became my favorites but it took a long time to draw more of all 4 of them because I had other important things to do in my life plus I was still waiting for the next Gorillaz album to revive my imaginative juices (or so I thought). I really want to have this as one of my frequent fandoms but I just don’t have time for it anymore. it’s still in the back of my head to want to draw them but at this point I still have other better interests to be in. and besides, I’m lazy just like Sans.

7. Cuphead (June 28th, 2017 was the official day I called quits on the British-based band Gorillaz due to the bullshit behind it. since that date I was lost, had no inspiration to look forward to and no cartoon guy to make me smile...but lo and behold of the same year, I took an interest in playing the game Cuphead and man...that shit was a frightening exaggerated metaphor for being on that one drug (forgot the name though) and having sex at the same time but man that was the best fun I’ve had in years. I mean, it’s like, enemies are just so happy to murder you and that scared the shit outta me. and the facial exaggeration?....I think I should stop, ha ha. anyways, the Moldenhauers saved my ass from spiraling down, they have no clue. anyways, eventually I became a permanent fan of their work so to ease the hurt and erase my past from the G-fandom I had to re-wire my brain into a different cartoon category that’s a rather more American, so anything Toon related like Roger Rabbit, Felix the Cat or another favorite that’s a western-based cartoon makes me feel better, especially my new man .......King Dice <3 <3<3<3. however, there was something about this new fandom category I still didn’t quite understand until the date March 14th, 2020. I finally understood what it was but I feel I shouldn’t bring it up. anyways, Cuphead and anything western or rubber hose is my last stop in inspiration for the remaining years of my life. many say never say never but I believe I’ve found my laughing place and that’s all that matters.

#tag facts #influences from cartoons #likes and dislikes #thoughts i have about characters #toons #rayman #sonic the hedgehog #gorillaz #waluigi #turbo #wreck it ralph #undertale #cuphead

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aesthbaby · 4 years

Text

Because I Love You

Summary: Angst/comfort story. Check out the request for an actual summary

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x gender neutral reader

Request: This one

Warnings: Cursing | fighting

Word count: 2k

Masterlist

She didn’t come home.

She left you a voicemail saying she was sorry but she didn’t come home.

Rationally, you called Penelope and she didn’t really tell you much except that this case really got to Emily. She didn’t say anything on the jet back but everyone knew it really got to her. They had a rule, never take your work home with you. After everything that’s happened with Morgan, Hotch, and JJ the team had made a promise to never take your work home with you. You and Emily don’t have children like they do but it was the same principle, the best way to keep their loved ones safe is to keep them away from their work. You didn’t know that was a rule they made; all you knew was the Emily hardly ever talked about her job and just chalked it up to her being closed off.

You had to hear about the rule from Penelope when you called her all flustered and worried. Apparently Em stayed later than everyone to finish her reports but since she was silent throughout the whole thing everyone was worried. Penelope volunteered to stay behind and keep an eye on her but eventually Emily convinced her she was fine.

So when you called and asked where your girlfriend was, she didn’t know what to say.

“Emily, baby, please pick up. I know you’re not okay, I mean I know you’re physically fine. I didn’t ask Pen to ping your phone because I know that’s an invasion of privacy but don’t underestimate me Emily Prentiss.”

That’s the 6th voice mail you’ve left for her and now its two in the morning. You’re on the couch eating Twizzlers (mostly just chewing on them because it calms your nerves) while some trashy reality show is playing in the background. When you first moved in together you couldn’t sleep without her next to you. It took some time for you to get used to the empty space in your bed and being woken up by her crawling into bed at late hours. She would snuggle herself under your arm and just listen to your heartbeat after a long day. She always thought you were asleep so you’d play along while she would tell you about her day. Its the most vulnerable she’ll let herself be; although you’d prefer it if she talked to you awake, you’ll take what you can get. Just when it felt like you were settling into a routine, she up and does this. You’d finally gotten her to agree to do an emotion chart with you. As ridiculous as it sounds it was something you used to write in your bullet journal years ago, you bought Emily one so she could do the same. She resisted at first but now she likes doing it (but she’d never admit that). Writing her emotions down has helped her be more open with you.

“I’m sorry y/n but the last time I saw Emily was on my way out of the bullpen, hours ago.” JJ sleepily tells you over the phone. “But I’m sure she’s fine, probably just needed some space after today.”

“Right...well, sorry for waking you up JJ.”

“Oh no, don’t worry its fine. I’m still finishing up some paper work for Henry’s new school. Who knew getting into a private school would take so much work out of you?” She laughs.

“The uhm...The Merit School?” I doubt I’d ever send my child to a school THAT expensive but who knows.

“Yeah, its going to cost us an arm and a leg but its a really great school.”

“I wish you guys the best of luck, and I’m sorry for bothering you so late.”

“Anytime,” Right when you’re about to hang up you hear her call your name. “Take care of Emily for me--for all of us.”

“I will JJ.”

Then you texted Garcia but never hit send because you already feel bad for bugging her earlier.

So you bothered Reid instead. You two have never been close but you do bond over vintage movies every now and then. You practically beg him to break this rule the BAU team has put into effect. The doctor was hesitant to tell you anything but eventually he did after rambling on about something that didn’t make any sense he gave you a brief summary on why he thinks this case may be hitting Emily so hard. “The unsub was the lieutenant for the local cartel who had been killing off his lovers. Those being undercover detectives who he would nicknames his wives. They would have to feign loyalty to him no matter what he did and by the time we arrived he had already executed three of them.”

“Why did he kill them?” You ask not really wanting to know the answer.

“There was a mole in the department. When he found out about them he...uhm...”

“Its okay Spencer, I get it.”

After a moment of silence he says, “Emily’s going to come home to you y/n. She loves you, we can all see it.”

“Thank you Spencer.”

Your concern is slowly morphing into frustration. How could she do this? She knows how worried I get if she simply leaves me on read. If I did something like this, Emily would have my head! Oh and what happened to aLwAyS teLLiNg eAcH oTheR tHe TrUtH?? Guess that doesn’t apply to her huh.

You get up to take a shower but instead you run smack dead into the coffee table. You’ve got to be fu-

“Oh hi Sergio.” The black cat dances around your legs. I think this cat senses my impending anxiety. “At least you’re here, your mommy is going to be in trouble when I see her.”

Where the hell are you Emily Prentiss? And like magic you hear the door unlock and open. I’m going to kill her. No no, I am going to give her a stern talking to. You know what? I don’t even feel like arguing--actually I do. “Sergio, hold me back.” Y/n, breathe, you need to empathize and sympathize with her. Or else this could get real ugly, real fast.

So, you sit down in the plush arm chair you begged Emily for when you first got here. She thinks its ugly but eventually she stopped trying to fight you. “Emily. Elizabeth. Prentiss.” You pronunciate each word slowly.

And there she is, white button up shirt tucked into her hundred dollar Express slacks with a double breasted blazer over the whole thing. My baby looks good but I will show no mercy for this behavior. “Hey.” She says casually, like she hasn’t been MIA for hours. “I brought Pad Thai.” She dangles the brown bag while locking all the locks on the door. A total of four, five if you count the alarm system. She goes straight for the kitchen without looking your way. No doubt that’s suspicious. “I couldn’t decide between cheese rangoons or egg rolls so I got us both.” You hear the fridge open and close but you still haven’t seen your girlfriend’s face. “Sorry for not picking up earlier. I needed time to get my head together.”

“Emily.” You almost growl the name. “Please, come and sit down.”

“You know at first I thought I’d get something from that fancy Slovakian place you like but then I remembered how sick I got last time.” She walks straight past you without a glance, into your shared bedroom.

This is unbelievable. “If I have to call your name one more time, Emily there will be hell to pay.” That seems to get her attention. She walks back into the living room but her back is to you and her head is low. Emily’s head never hangs low. “Look at me, Em.” When you’re met with nothing you stand, “Meet me half way Emily. Look me in the eyes.” You walk up to her and gently turn her by her shoulder. Her eyes have a sheer layer of pink over them, she’s not crying but she wants to. “Em...” You let out a brief sigh.

She walks out from under your grasp and heads toward the kitchen again. “Y/n...can we just go to bed? Eat trashy Chinese food like we always do and watch, I don’t know? The Bachelor?”

“You hate that show.”

“I know...”

“But you need something to take your mind off of today...” You nod, you know her too well. She’s silent in that moment. “Em I know this is about Ian Doyle.” Her eyes shoot up to yours. “Don’t be mad but I made Spencer tell me.” She turns to walk away but you grasp her hand, firmly. “You have no right to be upset about that Emily!” You and her hardly argue so the shout that came from your mouth was shocking. “I had to hear from your friend what was going on with you because you tell me nothing!” You’re in tears and it looks as if she feels some level of guilt. “Nothing Emily! I respect your privacy to the best of my abilities but this is where I draw the line.”

“Why do you care?” You look at her in complete disbelief. “Y/n why do you care so much?”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me?” You don’t curse much around her (away from her is a different story) so this is how she could tell when you’re really upset. “Are you serious Emily? Why can’t you just open your heart to me? Is it honestly that hard to sit down and have a decent conversation with me?”

“Y/n,” She pauses. “Why do you care about me? Why do you care about any of this?”

“Because I love you! Do you not understand that? I’m constantly worried about you and the main reason has nothing to do with your job. Its because you compartmentalize so well that it feels like I don’t even know you sometimes. I never know if you’re actually okay because you don’t tell me anything! Not knowing what you’re going through hurts like hell.”

“Y/n...Its not what you think. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Emily,” You take both of her hands in yours. “I’m not the one that’s hurt, you are. I know you don’t like to talk about him but baby if you keep this shit bottled up it will destroy you.” Her mouth opens and closes like she wants to say something but nothing comes out. “The victims reminded you of yourself, didn’t they?”

“What? No,” She tries to shrug off your question. “They were detectives. They were young, blonde, and sporty types. That’s not me.”

“They had to pretend to be in love with a drug lord.

“No...”

“They had to pledge allegiance to a man who didn’t think twice about killing them.”

“No.” She shakes her head.

“Someone from their own department exposed them and for that they were executed.”

“Stop!” She doesn’t shout. She doesn’t scream. Her voice is broken by the tears welling up in her eyes.

You lay your palm on her cheek and look deep into her brown eyes. “These women were betrayed by the people sworn to protect them. Their lives were taken by a man who called himself their lover.” She starts to cry a little more and you feel bad but this has to come out.

“Stop. Please.” She chokes.

You wrap her in your arms, with her head on your shoulder. “It could have been you...”

“It could have been me...” She repeats after a beat of silence.

“But it wasn’t you.” You just hold onto her until she pulls away.

“Y/n...I’m sorry.” She takes your other hand in hers.

“Its okay.” You just hold your love like this is the last time you’ll ever meet. She deserves so much more than what this world has given her. She’s worth more than she’ll ever know. “He will never lay a hand on you ever again.”

She looks at you with the saddest eyes, it reminds you of the childhood pictures she’s shown you. “Never.”

“Never.” You repeat. You sniffle a little while wiping your eyes. “Now, did I hear you say you brought Cheese Rangoons?”

She laughs a little at that. “Yeah...about that...”

“What?” Your eyes narrow on her.

“There’s only one left.” You playfully punch her shoulder. “I ate like three in the car.” Its good to hear her laugh after the day she’s had.

“Its okay.” You grab the bag from the fridge and two bottles of water. “Now, you and I are going to eat in bed and talk about your day while Keeping up with the Kardashians plays in the background.”

“But I hate that show.” She wines.

You steal a quick kiss before heading to the bedroom. “I know, we’re just using it as background noise.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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stuckinapatriarchalbullshitland · 4 years

Text

Lauren’s Attunement/// The Catharsis of the Dark Diary (Long ass post)

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Ah ... I really don't know how much I could say about this Attunement that I decided to separate into two parts and notice that I am going to deviate a bit from my original intention to make some clear points because there is a lot to get out of what Lauren has said. With that in mind I hope it is not too confusing to read.

First part: Cancellation Culture

I think our moonchild has been perfectly clear on this point. "We are living in a very sick world" "In a world in great need of healing and that will not do so through the culture of cancellation." Cancellation culture sucks, folks. A twisted idea of exposing things from the past of people who have not been good and that people have become accustomed to criticizing as if all those who criticize were a mirror of virtue and perfection when nobody is perfect and Lauren also mentions that in your Attunement. Lauren also mentions that we cannot hold people accountable for their mistakes because it is the most important part of the process. And it is a truth like a cathedral. People who make mistakes need to take responsibility for their actions so that they don't make them again. It is necessary to learn from it and improve as people and heal. In the part where Lauren mentions that she would never publicly embarrass the people she loves, she reminded me of Camila. I did not want to mention Camila in this because we know that Lauren has also been humiliated but if we talk about the cancellation culture that part goes to Camila. Camila has been a victim of the culture of cancellation long before leaving the band and they have made Twitter threads, blaming her with a racist past for which she has apologized many times but still drag her to hell, no matter what. Camila has haters who love to fuck her and Lauren knows it too. She has known it forever and a clear example is (I'm not going to put a screenshot because it would distract me) the tweet where someone calls Camila ugly and Lauren responds to that hater saying: "Hello, can you show me a picture of you? " It is these details that make us understand that everything she sees on the internet in relation to her and her loved ones affects her a lot and what she says when she talks about the online world where we are all the time, is bullshit. She says that it's not that you can't do what makes you beautiful, that she's fine with it, but also the people who are watching don't know that shit is fake and that people aren't happy with who they are. "That when they look in the mirror they don't love themselves." And I think she hit the spot there too, folks. She has perfectly outlined a hater's profile. The lack of love of those people who have found an escape route to their frustrations, to what is wrong with their lives, that makes them what they are. Because as she says, we live in a screwed up world, it's true but the point is, how the hell have we got to this point? How do we get to this point where the human being has lost humanity and has become shadows of hatred and rejection that lives by making Twitter threads and canceling people to feel better about themselves? And then Lauren talks about Trump. She mentions Trump as a symptom of lack of love. And again she is not wrong. Donald Trump's life was never very happy. With an authoritarian father who always preferred his eldest son to follow the legacy of his family and perpetuate the name of it, when this son did not want that pressure, the father banished the eldest son and all the shit fell on Trump. The only other male in the family. Trump is that man's mirror. From that egomaniac, controlling, arrogant, undoubtedly macho and racist father because he has really shown it. Trump lives on appearances. To demonstrate something that is not and to hide its shortcomings in a marked narcissism.

Another thing that strikes me about what she has said and another truth is also that we no longer love each other because we do not know where we are standing. And that is also true, we do not know who we are because others dictate who we are. They dictate what to say, what to eat, what music to listen to, what television series to watch until we become cattle. We have lost our ability as individual beings to fit the mold of livestock just to give us the feeling of feeling connected, as if we were part of something. Part of a whole that is still controlled. From this part Lauren begins to talk about what she has written in her diary so I will continue with the second part, but to close this one, I can only say that many of the things she mentions are a reflection of what we are doing living, of what we are suffering and our own fragility as a human species.

Second part: Black Diary and Amy's Shadow

I think we have a concept of great artists as broken human beings, wrapped in dramas and additions that actually "help" perfectly in their art. Where, the more chaos there is in their lives, the more geniuses they become. And I think Amy can be an example of that. And talking about her, because I'm going to start by talking about her and then I'm going to express my thoughts about Lauren. I remember responding to an ask yesterday saying that I was terrified when Lauren said she felt identified with her because their lives were a kind of parallel. And then I thought better of it and realized that yes, both lives have that parallel but with a difference, Lauren has what Amy never had. An emotional support network. Good friends. Amy's life was marked by rejection, mockery, the circus that was her life where her art was in the background and her voice was shattered to make way for the addicted, alcoholic Amy, where her greatest achievement was to climb to a drugged and drunk stage, with glasses of wine that she drank live and her show was to demonstrate her weakness so that others made fun of her. Her parents perpetuated that shit because it gave them money, and as long as she made money, at the cost of her own physical and mental health, nothing else mattered. Being an artist is not only knowing how to sing, dance, write, paint and be good at all kinds of artistic expression, but it is much more than that. Being an artist is breaking yourself into pieces and giving them to your fans to do with those pieces what they want. It is giving more than what nobody will give you in return. And Amy got broken. They broke her into thousands of pieces and they all jumped like vultures wanting a piece of her until she ceased to exist because they never gave her a chance to rebuild herself. They never gave her a chance to learn to love herself to be able to heal because they didn't want a healthy Amy because that didn't sell. They were only served by her pain because she filled their bank accounts, those of her friends, those of her managers, those of the entertainment tabloids. Those of her boyfriends. The ones from her own fucking parents. And so far we can draw parallels with Lauren. It is possible that our moonchild has had or is having her problems with her mother, or with her record label, or with whatever she is having problems and is dealing with right now, but at least she does not have a family that just supports her and is there for the money she may or may not earn. And yes, she mentioned many fears at first before reading the newspaper, but at least she has had a chance to regroup when she needs to. Lauren has the ability to heal herself, her own will thanks to her own strength. Because even if you are afraid of breaking or feeling pain, you have to feel it. You have to hit rock bottom to learn how to get out of there. You have to go to the extreme of falling enough to know that your own will, your own inner strength is so great that it helps you to rise not only once, but a thousand times if necessary. And she has that ability. I believe and have always said it, you already know it. That the real problem, or part of it, is not Lauren's fragility because that is bullshit. Lauren is a strong girl but at the same time she has this angel, this kind of kindness that really does not go well in an environment as rotten and toxic as the industry. Lauren Jauregui does not fit molds. She cannot follow rules if she considers that they are not fair and that people in the industry do not like because they lose their ability to manipulate it. There is a reason that her song Toy has disappeared, folks. Lauren is still an artist and of course she too falls into the concept of what it means to be an artist, breaking herself into pieces and giving those pieces to us who are her fans. And since we have a piece of it, perhaps we create ourselves with the right to demand more from her because we are not satisfied with what she gives us and we criticize her for it. The worst fans are capable of fucking her and haters are able to write Twitter threads exposing what they hate about her.

That would scare anyone, folks. Even if you are not an artist. There is a Lauren Gif that I posted on the blog as part of a set of images related to Camren. In that gif Lauren looks at the audience with such a raw expression on her face saying something like: "You who are there screaming like crazy, with your perfect lives while I am being pressured to the point of breaking and you just want more" (I put the only screenshot because I don't have the GiF image at hand)

This GiF is something that always caught my attention and since I have known Lauren she knew that there was something else with her. I met her as the bad girl, the bitch one. That image that appeared to conform to Tyren. And then her smile disappeared. I remember when I joined the fandom where one of my first posts about PR circuses was to ask myself: Why do girls look so fucked up? Why is Lauren so sad or why has her smile disappeared? And then there were those weird videos where she seemed like "haunted", like outside of herself and that agreed with the time that she had to stunt for Tyren and always seemed to be the same dynamic with her. And then it was not only me who realized that Lauren was not well, but also other mutuals and we kept repeating the same thing to the bastards on her team: "Lauren is not well, please take care of her " That was something that we repeated a thousand times with Lauren and then also with Camila because it always caught my attention that the two of them were equally fucked at the same time. Before I knew that Lauren had her problems with her family, I also noticed that separation. I think I received a bit of shit after expressing my thoughts but in the end, I was never wrong because Lauren herself has expressed it and I think if I had been in the fandom long before 2018 I would have noticed it too. This has been a very emotional Attunement on Lauren's part and I told her in a tweet, as her fan has been a privilege to have witnessed that. It is a privilege to be a fan of a girl with a huge heart who has flaws that make her more human than other people and who has grown enough to know that she can continue to do so. With this post I have tried to be respectful and say that, although I do not know her, we connect in a special way because we have almost the same way of thinking in many aspects (although I do not agree in many others) and I think that still does most important to me. About the newspaper. It reminded me of the lost diary topic, but apparently she has more than one. Who knows. I remember my period of having diaries in my teens and I appreciate that because it made me realize that writing would be an important part of my life. If there is one way I am good at expressing myself it is writing, and no, not in English so I apologize for the mistakes. There is one last detail of Lauren's Attunement that goes a bit more on the personal side. When she says: "To be a real one, is to be an emotional one". I have always had a conflict with being emotional. Starting with my zodiac sign (yes, I know it's a bit silly to believe in that but it amuses me). As a Pisces, I am an emotional being. As a physically disabled person I have my limitations and although these limitations do not define me, I have always had a fierce fight with my vulnerable side. I hate depending on others, physically and emotionally. I also hate getting sick and others having to take care of me when I'm unable to do it on my own, that's why I don't get along with my emotional side. Excessively emotional and I prefer to be more cerebral in many aspects (I think you have noticed that my favorite word this year has been brainless people, right) and dependency is something that I can't stand on myself. That they depend on me does not matter, I am always for those who need me but being dependent is something I tend to avoid like pests. Relying on others to do things for you, depending on the affection of other people ... my family (except my mother) was never very affectionate to say, it was not impulsively hugging you or public displays of affection and I learned to be the same . But I also learned to give what others did not give me. And it cost me. That of leaving the mold of a family that is there and that sometimes worries but that others can leave you and not know what you are doing on any given day. A family that demands expectations. At least some of my uncles. I think that in that part I feel identified with Lauren and it is curious because I am adopted but she is not. And still I feel identified with Lauren and at the same time with Camila and the relationship that she has with her mother, which is almost an exact copy of the relationship that I had with my mother throughout my childhood and adolescence. I guess that's why I follow them both, apart from because I love the music of both. The last detail and I already stop talking about me because this post is about Lauren. What she talks about the industry, the molds, how female artists within the industry are treated. That was also an important aspect because here we are, always complaining about the fact that female artists are undervalued and punished twice as much as a male artist because the music industry is misogynous and macho. That's true.

Society tends to forgive the mistakes of male artists who sometimes do more reprehensible things than female artists and all the mistakes of those female artists (Leigh-Ann of LM throwing shade at Camila) come to light more times and they are more hated. That is a part of the industry that I have always hated and that makes me sad at the same time because it always affects our girls. And I don't know what else I have left to say that I haven't already said, I hope I wasn't too confused with my ideas but it was something I had to write about and I've taken my time to do that. I don't know if Lauren is ever going to read this, but I wanted to thank her. Thanks moonchild. Thank you for giving us that piece of you that makes you vulnerable so that we know it. Thank you for being yourself, for teaching us that we can heal and continue to grow. Thank you for that beautiful mind of yours that has so much to express and deliver to this screwed up world. Don't stop being real, mija. Don't let that light you have go out. I love you so much moonchild ...

sorry for the long reading, folks but it was something I needed to said.

#lauren's attunement #lauren jauregui #cancel culture #dark diary #amy winehouse #vulnerability #music industry #artists #camila cabello #personal thoughts #long ass post #personal #family issues #co dependency #camren

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thephantomofthe-internet · 5 years

Text

Not Your Type

Steve Harrington x Reader

Read part 2 HERE

Word Count: 6,669

Warnings: Swearing, Smoking, Drinking, Sexual Assault mention

Tag List: @carolimedanvers @moonstruckhargrove @denimjacketkisses @hotstuffhargrove @thechickvic @alex--awesome--22 @hipsmcgee @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @so-not-hotmess @balladblood @ashescilev

“You’re not her type, Steve.”

“You can’t say that till she meets me.”

The two had been arguing for days on the subject, without a clear answer in sight. Robin had promised, after weeks of watching Steve fail at getting girls, first at Scoops Ahoy and now at Family Video, to introduce him to a girl. Not just any girl, a girl like her. Steve had finally admitted that Dustin was right and he needed to go after girls who could make him genuinely happy, not just a girl who fit his popular mindset. He had tried his luck with Robin, and easily accepted the loss due to her own sexuality, and now he was set to try again. And Robin had been hyping up this friend of hers for weeks. She was cool and funny and smart like her and she was straight. That was all he was looking for. Whoever she was, she sounded perfect.

But Robin was holding out on him.

His turned halfway to look at her, leaning his elbows on the counter to watch her shelf VHS tapes of music videos by the checkout line. She kept her back to him, rolling her eyes at his last comment. He was so pig headed most of the time, it was honestly annoying.

“Robin, you made this big deal about her, you said she was perfect, that I’d want to marry her on sight, and now you’re holding out. You gonna tell me what the deal is or not?” he asked with a brutal sigh.

Robin didn’t turn around “Look, I might have...overhyped her a bit...like she’s amazing but she might...not be interested.” she said, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, turning to look at him with an embarrassed grimace.

“What?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Look...she likes Billy Idol types. She probably would’ve gotten along with Billy Hargrove if...well, you know.” Robin said, trailing off at the end. Both nodded softly, Robin swallowing as if her throat was dry. Maybe it was, the memory was certainly hard to swallow and even harder to forget.

“Right...so?”

Robin scoffed “You’re too squeaky clean for her.”

Steve slapped his hand on the counter, his hair bouncing excitedly with the quick movement “Oh come on! Do you remember me? I’m Steve ‘Hair’ Harrington! I was the coolest guy at Hawkins High.” he puffed up his chest proudly, like a peacock.

“And the most modest.” Robin stood up, dusting off her knees from grim from the carpets sticking to her bare skin. The only perk of working at Family Video was the lax dress code. The store’s air conditioning had broken in June and had turned the place into an oven with its big windows that couldn’t be shaded to hide the marquees and cardboard cutouts in the windows. Keeping the front door open and wearing as little as possible helped.

“But seriously, Steve, I don’t want you to get your hopes up about her. She might not be interested.” Robin replied, planting her hands on her hips.

“I got it, now when can I meet her?” Steve asked.

Luckily for him, you were already on your way.

You had no idea why Robin had been so insistent on you visiting her at work. She never had been before, she’d made you promise not to visit her at Scoops, which was strange since you only worked a floor above at Claire’s, piercing children’s ears with ugly silver butterflies and flowers, only for them to buy big plastic hoops and balls to shove into the unprepared holes and get them totally infected. It was fun, you got to use a piercing gun. You’d almost gotten fired for trying to pierce your nose with the gun. You were glad that you didn’t, it would’ve totally ruined your nostril, but you wouldn’t pretend that it wasn’t totally worth it to see the look on your fat manager, Marge’s face. She was such a bitch, you were glad when that damn mall burned down. The one in Carmel was better anyway.

When Robin insisted on you coming to Family Video to meet her for her lunch break, you weren’t insanely apprehensive about it. It wasn’t until her tone changed when she mentioned meeting her coworker and friend that you started getting that sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach. She was trying to set you up with someone. Again. She always did this when she wanted something. Last time she did it, it was with that awful Keith to try to get him to give her his poster from The Godfather, which he’d nicked from the back storage at The Hawke while it was still open. Whatever she wanted, you weren’t going to be used to get it.

Still, you showed up. You promised that you would after all, and you were a person of your word. Parking your car in front of the store, you saw the almost empty parking lot and the wide open door signaling the open store. You sighed softly to yourself, grabbing your purse off the seat next to you and stringing it over your shoulder, popping the door and climbing out.

“Robin? You here?” you called as you walked in.” the store was empty and far too quiet for your liking.

“Welcome to Family Video, where we bring movie magic to you! Can I help you with anything today?” Steve asked from the counter, startling you. You practically jumped out of your skin, your hand coming to clutch at your heart as you whipped around to meet the soft expression of Steve Harrington. He looked slightly bemused, clearly trying to not laugh at your over the top reaction. You rolled your eyes, walking up to the desk.

“Is Robin here? Robin Walker.” you asked, looking him over with a calculating eye.

“Yeah, she’s just in the back, wait here.” Steve stepped out from behind the desk, pulling at his stiff, polyester golf shirt. The shirt was so white and blindingly bright that it hurt to look at, but the large black logo for the store broke it up enough to make it easier to watch Steve leave as it was to watch him walk away.

Steve didn’t even make it all the way to the stockroom before Robin emerged, already changed out of her uniform and was grinning like an idiot. “Hey! You made it just in time!” she said, tossing you her purse and sweater. You caught them easily, relieved to see your friend and get out of there.

“Steve, this is my friend Y/N. Y/N, you know Steve, right?” Robin said, gesturing between them with her now free hands.

“What up, Harrington?” you asked boredly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Robin gritted her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut and pulling her lips into a straight line. This is exactly what she thought would happen. Every time she’d introduced you to someone, no matter how genuine she was being, you turned into a brick fortress, completely impenetrable. Gone was your bubbly, snarky personality and quick wit, replaced by sneers and eye rolls and sarcasm. You weren’t nice or warm or open when you met the boys Robin decided you’d like. You weren’t yourself.

This wasn’t you. Robin knew it, she was certain that deep down you knew it. But Steve didn’t know it. Robin was certain that he had no idea who you were. And that made it worse. He had no background to you other than her own descriptions. And that wasn’t enough. This was not going to end well.

“You ready to grab food?” you asked, drawing Robin out of her mind.

“Huh? Oh yeah definitely. Burger in a Basket cool?” she replied, her eyes darting strangely between the pair of you.

“Sure, I’m not vegetarian this month. Accidently ate a fish stick last weekend while babysitting Todd Carther again. Total shit head but his parents pay me so much money to do it.” you replied, handing Robin’s things back to her.

“Hasn’t he scared you off yet?” Robin asked, tying her grey sweatshirt around her hips.

“Nope, almost got me by dumping a whole jar of electric blue paint on my head. But the stuff is non-toxic so it didn’t mess up my eyes or skin and it let me know that dying my whole head blue isn’t going to be a good look for me.” you replied with a giggle, flashing a strand of faded blue hair to her. “The stupid paint did dye some of the bleach though, which totally sucks.”

“You babysit Todd Carther?” Steve asked, drawing your attention back to him and indented a hard frown onto your face. Robin caught the look and wrapped an arm tightly around your shoulders, squeezing them too hard.

“Oh yeah, Y/N is utterly fearless.” Robin announced with a grin.

“I know his older brother Matt; wicked dude, total party animal. He threw the best parties at the end of the basketball season. Totally rad…” he trailed off with a doofy grin, clearly imagining the fun times he’d had at some shitty house party.

“I know Matt too. He groped Sylvia Newman in the middle of freshman English for a stripe of Fruit Stripe gum. He assaulted her and didn’t even get detention for it.” you replied stonily, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Oh… bummer.” Steve tried. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “No, I’m serious. I didn’t know about that, that’s really fucked up. I don’t hang out with him anymore, but if I did I’d stop.”Steve said more confidently this time, running a hand through his overstyled hair.

That...wasn’t the answer you were expecting. It knocked you out of your senses and you took a moment to respond. “Yeah...well I take money from his parents so I mean nobody’s perfect. And that whole family’s fucked up anyway.” Steve smiled slightly and you tried not to notice it. He just looked so proud of himself. It was almost endearing. But not enough to make you want to care.

“So, anyway, Steve? You go on break yet?” Robin asked.

Steve furrowed his brow, looking at Robin as though she’d grown a third head. Robin nodded her head towards you strangely and suddenly Steve blurted “That’s the girl? Really?”

You whipped around to look at Robin, utterly appalled. You had a sinking feeling that the whole reason you’d been invited out today was to be introduced to some guy, but you had no idea it would be so quick and for the guy to be Steve motherfucking Harrington. You couldn’t believe it. I mean he was the dumbest, more generic guy at Hawkins High. You swore he’d won the metal for stupidest questions in your Home Economics class in freshman year. He was just…such a dork! How he’d gotten so popular, you had no idea. Maybe this town was such so void of charm and charisma that even the most empty, callus boy could become a god with a wink and a smile.

“What does he mean that’s the girl?” you asked, your face pulling into a look of sheer anger that could stop a man in his tracks.

“Oh great work, Harrington, now you’ve done it.” Robin sighed, pulling her purse across her chest, smacking his arm roughly.

“Robin, what does he mean? What did you do?” you snapped, forcing her to look at you. Her face pulled into a look that you knew too well. Regret, embarrassment, and just a little bit of fear.

“I might have promised Steve that I’d introduce you to him.” You groaned loudly, your head falling back to look at the white tiled ceiling. Robin pressed on, her face turning into a look of sympathy, her smile made of rubber. “Because you’re so great! He doesn’t have many friends his own age anymore and I just thought-”

“Oh I know what you thought.” You bit out.

“Well, are you coming or not?” Robin turned to Steve, completely ignoring you.

Steve’s face turned sour and surprised and he looked between the two of you and then to the clock above you. “I mean…I kind of have some stuff to finish up here and I should really wait until Keith gets here before I go on my break…don’t want Mr. Mueller mad at me again.” He scratched the back of his neck, shrugging awkwardly.

Robin clicked her tongue “Since when do you care?” Steve simply shrugged again. “Y/N, can you wait for me outside?”

You nodded, turning on your heel and heading out just far enough to be out of sight. You wanted to hear whatever they had to say.

“Dude what the fuck? You wanted this!” Robin whispered violently.

“Yeah but I didn’t want her!” Steve replied. You didn’t see the smack, but you sure heard the sound of skin hitting skin and the embarrassing yelp Steve let out.

“Yeah well, you’re going to come with us and you’re going to be nice. Because I did this for you. And now you have to accept it.” Steve didn’t respond, which must have been a good sign for Robin.

“Remind me to never do anything nice for you ever again…” Robin muttered as their footsteps charged closer to you and you scurried out the open door, choosing to lean against the burning hot glass, crossing your arms over your chest and knocking the sunglasses from the top of your head to your face again.

“You ready to head out?” You asked, standing up straight, smiling at Robin.

“Yeah, just waiting for Harrington to put the sign.” Behind her, Steve was hanging the tiny clock shaped sign on the door, trying to figure out what time it would be when they got back.

“Just put four fifteen, Steve, Keith will be back by then and your shift will be over like immediately anyway. You clocked out, right?” Robin said quickly, turning to you to add “Keith is a menace; he doesn’t like to work with anyone and kicks everyone off the floor whenever he can.” You nodded boredly, you’d heard this when she worked with him at the arcade; she quit whereas he got fired, it was a point of bragging for her.

“Yes, Robin. I did what you said. I don’t like this idea, I need this job more than you do.” He muttered bitterly. You raised an eyebrow curiously. Bitter looked decent on him.

“Oh, will you relax? Let your hair down a bit, dingus.” Robin grinned, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. The three of you headed down the street to the cheesy diner Burger in a Basket. The whole place was themed after a fifties diner, complete with neon and pastel colours and fifties nostalgia on the walls. Bikes, hoola hoops, records, pictures of dead icons like Elvis and Marilyn Monroe, movie posters-the whole shebang. You didn’t go there for atmosphere, no, you went for the food. Robin insisted that it was the best burger she’d ever had and you’d be hard pressed to find one better in Hawkins. You didn’t know if Steve had been initiated into the burger ritual yet, but you didn’t really care.

Entering the teal and pink dining room, you nodded to the poor young thing in the giant black beehive wig and roller skates, you and Robin heading towards your normal booth. Steve followed behind, wide eyed and a little bit horror struck. You slid into the booth and grabbed the menus out of the rack at the table, handing them out wordlessly. Robin pushed Steve towards your side of the booth and he begrudgingly slid in, much to your dismay.

“You dragged me out of work…to go to a cheesy themed diner?” Steve asked incredulously.

“Just wait till you try it, Steve, it’ll change your life.” Robin said with a grin, flipping open the menu. You knew that she always ordered something different each time you came. You always ordered the same thing so you didn’t bother to open yours. Steve cautiously followed Robin’s example, flipping around with a wide eyed, innocent expression.

“Alright, welcome to Burger in a Basket, I’m Sylvia, how are you guys doing today?” the voice above you asked. You grinned as you saw Sylvia standing there in the stupid uniform. It was a comfort to know that her life was a little worse than yours. After all, she was such a bitch to you most of the time. That Matt Carther thing gave her plenty of room to get away with being a complete bitch, and it gave you something to use as a tester with guys in town. If they didn’t know who she was or they laughed, then they weren’t worth your time. Sure, you felt bad for her, but she treated you like dog shit for a year before dumping your ass to hang out with Macy Clarke and Nancy Wheeler.

“Hey Sylvia, we’re doing alright.” You said with a slight smirk, resting your head on your palms. Sylvia cringed slightly, but her eyes landed on Steve’s and her whole expression changed.

“Hey, Steve…” she murmured, pulling her lip into her teeth, grinning slightly.

“Hey, Sylvia, how’s it going?” he replied. Of course he’d go for her, you thought to yourself, she’s exactly his type. Just dumb enough to be cute but just pretty enough to hold your attention, with the slightest stink of desperation. You wanted so desperately to roll your eyes, but Robin was watching you with the knowing look, so you maintained your composure.

“I’m good! Can I get you a drink? Or are you ready to order? Do you need a minute?” you wanted to laugh; this was the best service you’d ever gotten at the restaurant. And it was all thanks to Steve.

“I mean…are you guys ready? I think I’ve got it figured out.” Steve said, gesturing to Robin with a nervous expression.

“Yeah, I’ll get the Fourth of July burger with mushrooms and can I get no mustard? Oh, and a diet coke.” Robin said, smiling confidently at Sylvia, who took down the order boredly.

“Sure, and for you, Steve?” she asked sweetly, fluttering her lashes.

“Um…I need a second more, Y/N can you order?” he muttered, leaning over to you. You nodded, surprised that him being closer to you didn’t upset you. It was almost…nice.

“Yeah sure…I’ll get the double hula burger with extra cheese, no pickles, no ketchup, and a triple thick chocolate shake.” You rattled off quickly, enjoying watching her struggle to get everything down.

“Alright, you ready, Stevie?” Sylvia asked and you noted the distinctive blush forming on his cheeks. Sylvia seemed too proud of her work and you wanted to wipe that look off her face. Pride was a bad look for her.

“Can I just get classic burger with mayo and extra tomato? And a coke?” he asked awkwardly, still clearly very unsure of himself.

Sylvia nodded “Perfect! I’ll be back with your drinks in a moment.” She said, turning and skating off, waving coyly to Steve as she headed back into the kitchen. You and Robin snickered, Robin rolling her eyes as soon as Sylvia disappeared.

“Oh my god we should have been bringing you since day one, they never give us that much attention!” you cried with a loud laugh.

“Dude, she wants you so bad oh my god!” Robin added, reaching out to slap his shoulder. Steve lowered his head, shaking his head.

“I totally remember her now…she had a thing for me in junior year, covered my locker in paper hearts. I wasn’t supposed to find out but I did. It was very uncool.” He muttered, shaking his head. You remembered that too, how she’d planned it for weeks, forcing you to help cut out pink, purple, and red hearts. You thought the whole thing was so cringy and weird, but she was dead set that he’d be intrigued by the mystery and sweetness of the action. She thought it was so cute. Barbra Holland unintentionally started the rumor that it was her, but you wished it was you to tell the world. Watching her slink home was worth the afternoons in the library with her calling you stupid for not cutting the heart out perfectly.

“She was just trying to put her feelings out there!” Robin replied incredulously.

“No, Rob, she was being weird. She could’ve shoved a note in his locker, send him a candy gram and Valentine, they do that every year for lacrosse team. She did something unnecessary and creepy to get attention. You’re just a hopeless romantic.” You grinned, reaching out to touch the bright red heart drawn in permanent marker on her wrist. You knew she had a thing for Jennifer Buffet, who worked at the now defunct Starcourt movie theatre. She always drew that little heart on everything whenever she had a crush, it was like she was trying to get caught, you didn’t get that; you always wanted to hide your crushes until the other person showed any interest in you. You wouldn’t usually agree or defend Steve Harrington, but he was right for once. You didn’t mind agreeing if he was correct for once.

“I am not!” Robin cried, crossing her arms over her chest.

You leaned in to whisper to her “Tell that to Tammy Turner.” Robin turned bright red and she leaned back into the vinyl seat, looking away from you.

“Oh was it bad?” Steve asked with a wide, doofy grin. You were surprised to know that he knew about Tammy, but you didn’t question it. Asking questions could reveal something that Robin didn’t want known. You were used to being careful with her.

“Ohhhh yeah, it was a rough year with her pine after that muppet.” Watching Robin pine after Tammy Turner was so embarrassing, since the girl was so straight. I mean the Steve thing was one thing, but the girl dated Tommy H for two weeks between his forty-second break-up with Carol. That’s the epitome of straight bullshit: finding Tommy H’ s awful, crass, and downright sexist attitude and sense of humor attractive and desirable. How Robin didn’t see that was beyond you.

“That’s what I said! She sounds like a damn muppet! Like Kermit the frog or something!” Steve cried, smacking the vinyl and turning to look at you fully. When he wasn’t trying so hard, he was actually pretty cute. His eyes blew wide and his smile reached its fullest capacity, straining to not split his face in half.

“I thought more Ms. Piggy, like when she sang with Elton John. She always like pinching up her mouth at the end of her words, she looks like a wrinkly old apple.” You said, giggling slightly. “Don’t go breaking my heart…” you imitated, pursing and squeezing your lips together, making a tiny ‘O’ with your lips. Steve’s eyes grew impossibly wider and he laughed far too loudly, his head tossing back. You turned to Robin, who was blushing crimson, fully turned away from the scene you were making. Sylvia skated over with your food and drinks, smiling far too much. She placed each order in front of you, angling herself so her chest landed in Steve’s face when she handed his order over to him. He didn’t seem to notice, he was too busy laughing.

“What’re you guys talking about?” she asked, tossing your order in front of you.

“That time you made Steve’s locker look like the Valentine’s Day massacre.” You grinned back spitefully.

Sylvia paled significantly and she reached up to adjust her wig, looking away. “That…that wasn’t me…” she replied softly.

“Yeah…yeah it was…” Steve said between breathes, wiping tears away from his eyes. Sylvia opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. She turned away quickly, skating out fast. You laughed hard when she ran off, hunching over in your seat.

“That was so mean!” Robin cried, looking between the pair of you with a stern look.

“She…she deserved it! After everything I dealt with from her, I get to have one!” you replied, shrugging softly as you recovered. Steve offered you a high five, which you took happily. You never thought in your life that you’d be laughing with Steve Harrington. Today was a weird day.

“Eat, both of you.” Robin snapped and you complied equally happily. You loved this place-everything was fresh and made to order. Sure, it was greasy and unhealthy, but you deserved a bit of comfort food once and awhile. Steve took his first bite and let out a very loud moan. You giggled, it was so stupid. And a little cute, you wouldn’t pretend that it wasn’t. And maybe a little hot. But you wouldn’t admit that.

“This is so good!” he said, muffled by his mouthful of food.

“It’s even better when you’re high.” You whispered, nudging his arm. Steve nodded in approval, clearly into the idea.

The three of you ate in silence, wolfing down your burgers without much of a hum save for the sounds of ice clinking in glasses and small slurps from straws. Burger in a Basket still had glass bottle of coke, the rumor was that they filled them up with every drink and washed them after, since they didn’t really make glass bottles of soda for retail sale anymore.

With only their fries left, the group returned to each other’s attention. To your surprise, Steve spoke first.

“Can I be like honest here?” he said, turning to face you once again. You nodded shortly, shoving a fry into your mouth. “I have like, no idea who you are. I really don’t.” you raised an eyebrow at him, unsure of how you were supposed to react to that news. You swallowed your mouthful, nodding to yourself.

“Yeah, I figured as much.” You replied “I remember you though.”

“Oh yeah, what for?” Steve leaned back in the booth, putting his arms over the seat. He looked to be ready to take in praise.

“I remember how shit you were on the basketball team. How shit that whole team was.” You replied with a chuckle, watching Steve deflate immediately.

“I was, like, the best player on the team!” he replied indignantly.

“That’s not saying much.” That line made Robin laugh and Steve curl further into himself.

“You really should’ve joined the track and field team. You were much better at that anyway.” You added softly.

“On what planet? I’ve never even done track and field.” Steve cracked bitterly.

“Yes you have, we all had to do it in middle school.” You said. Both Robin and Steve looked at you like you were crazy, so without any remaining shame, you pressed on.

“At the end of the year, every year of middle school, we had the grade-wide track and field meet. We all trained on basic stuff-long jump, cross country, shot put for the older kids, and high jump. Then, each grade would compete and the best of those kids would go onto the main competition. We all got a day off to watch and there were free freezies. It was one of the best days of the year.” You explained.

“Yeah, so what? I never competed.” Steve replied, watching you closely.

“Yes, you did.” Steve raised an eyebrow at you. You rolled your eyes and continued.

“You were in eighth grade and I was in seventh. You had won the long jump in your grade level because Jude Armstrong broke his ankle and I had won the high jump. So we both competed. I remember three things about that day: one; that I won the high jump against all the older kids and Tina tried to push me into the mud after I got my medal; that you and Tommy snuck off to smoke cigarettes during the high jump. You both pretended that you’d done it before, and maybe you had, but Tommy was coughing so hard even after that it was so obvious that he’d never even touch a cigarette before. And three, that that was the year we were all forced to run the cross country race. Nobody had wanted to compete in the race, so they forced us to do it to set an example. I didn’t want to run it, I’m not a distance runner, but you were so confident. You didn’t look nervous at all. And when the whistle blew and everyone bolted, you held back. You came in third in the cross country race and second at long jump, against the odds on both. It was the coolest thing I’d ever seen.”

Steve nodded. You looked so pretty when you explained the memory, your whole face lit up and your smiled so softly. You looked angelic, it was truly a sight. But the memory itself turned his stomach.

“I remember that…” he muttered “What I remember about that day was my dad telling me that no other place matter except first and that I was absolute shit.”

You felt so bad, bringing it up at all. He looked so sad now, you regretting even commenting on it. “Oh…I’m sorry…” you said softly. Steve shrugged as if it meant nothing, as if he felt nothing. “God, what a dick and you were good too!” you cried.

“Nah, I kind of sucked.” Steve replied, pushing away the compliment with his hands.

“No seriously! We could have used you on the team, Jude Armstrong sucked ass after like freshman year! You showed real aptitude. And you’re built for it, strong legs and a good core. Let guys like Chuck Bronson stomp around the court, you should’ve came and competed with us, you would’ve won something.” You joked, kicking his shoe with your own.

Steve huffed “We got into the county semi-finals last year…”

“Yeah? We won country finals and got fifth in state. Half my team got into state colleges on scholarship based on that alone.” You replied haughtily.

“You gonna get one?” he asked.

“I might, I got a scout watching me. Don’t know if I’m gonna take it.”

“Oh yeah, why not?”

You grinned proudly “I’m hoping to follow in Emma Lancaster’s footsteps.”

“What she do?” Robin rolled her eyes at that comment.

“She got a full ride to NYU for fashion design.”

“You sew?”

You rolled your eyes “I’m the head of the costume department for the drama club.”

“It’s how we met.” Robin added proudly.

“Emma Lancaster founded and headed up the fashion club at Hawkins High and ran the sewing club. She wants to work for designer labels and head up her own one day. I just want to make costumes for plays. I’d work anywhere that paid and go to any school that offered money.” You explained.

“That’s cool, I hope you get it.” Steve said and you noted the slightest hint of sadness in his tone.

“How’s your planning going, Steve, got any ideas yet?” Robin asked, clearly catching onto the tone Steve had in his voice.

“Well…” he looked a little embarrassed as he spoke, but did so anyway “I was thinking about applying to the police academy in Carmel…it’s not a clear shot, but I’d like it more than working for my dad.”

“My uncle works there, I can put in a good word with him if you want.” Robin said cheerily.

“That would be cool. I just don’t know if I’d be any good.” Steve muttered to himself.

“I’d think you’d be pretty good, I mean you’ve got strong morals.” You turned to Robin “Remember when he broke freak Byers camera? He deserved that fucking shit.” Robin nodded in agreement.

“I mean yeah, Steve, you care about people. Like you take care of Dustin like he’s your brother. It takes guts to be genuine and unafraid about hanging out with literal children.” Robin added.

“You hang out with Dustin Henderson?” you asked curiously.

“You know Dustin?” Steve asked, equally confused.

“Yeah, my sister Stacy made fun of him for like a week last year after the snow ball for asking her to dance. I wanted to smack the shit out of her for it, it takes guts to ask somebody out, especially at that age.” You explained, slamming your tall milkshake glass on the table, having just slurped up the last drops of chocolate milk and whipped cream.

“Yeah well he’s got a girlfriend now named Suzie.” Robin said. Steve’s attention had turned to the window and you heard a small gasp.

“Shit, Keith’s here, I gotta run.” He pulled out his wallet and slapped a twenty dollar bill on the table before sliding out of the booth.

“Don’t get in shit, dingus!” Robin called after him.

He spun around quickly, jogging backwards “If you get me fired, I’ll kill you.” He looked you over slowly, a lopsided grin pulling at the corner of his mouth “I’ll see you around, Y/N?”

“Yeah, sure.” You smiled. Steve nodded happily and his back slammed into the poor dish boy, stumbling slightly before scampering off.

As soon as he was gone, Robin turned to you with a devilish grin “He likes you.” She giggled, reaching out to poke your shoulder.

“Good for him.” You replied, trying to seem confident and uncaring about the whole situation. Internally, you were utterly rocked. He’d gotten to you. You’d drunk the Steve Harrington kool-aid. He was deeper, more genuine, honest, and cooler than you’d ever expected him to be. You were utterly intrigued and now you had to know more. But you weren’t going to admit it now, not when Robin was being so cocky about it.

“I think you like him toooo!” she said in a sing-song tone.

You scoffed “No, not really.”

Robin saw right through you. But there was no sense in arguing when you were like this. You had too much pride to admit it now, especially with Sylvia floating around, looking for any excuse to rip the rug out from under you. But she had an idea.

“So, listen, I’m not working tomorrow and we haven’t hung out in forever. Wanna have a sleepover tonight?” Robin asked, pulling out cash from her wallet to cover herself and you, since she owed you money from the last time you’d gone out to eat.

“Sure, I’m not babysitting the brat tomorrow.”

“Great! You want to rent a movie or something? I get a discount at Family Video.”

You knew what she was doing, but you went along with it. No sense in calling her out now when she had a plan, it wouldn’t stop her anyway.

“Eh, whatever. I’m good either way.” You replied breezily.

“I wanna rewatch Carrie so let’s head over. Maybe grabbed some snacks too, I want some sour belts.” Robin said, climbing out of the booth and grabbing your hand, pulling you out. You didn’t really like horror movies and you really hated sour belts, they weren’t even sour, so you knew Robin was milking your ambivalence for all it was worth. What she didn’t know is that you actually kind of liked Carrie and you had a new dress that needed fitting and Robin would be the perfect model for it. Karma was a bitch.

Robin dragged you all the way to Family Video and inside, grinning at Keith and watching him blush as you passed by. He’d told you that he loved you the first and only time you hung out. You never called him back and Robin had to explain to him that saying I love you on a date that wasn’t even a date is the wrong move. Now, he wouldn’t even speak to you, which you didn’t mind.

“Y/N! Go gather as many packs of sour belts as you can get your hands on! I’m gonna find Carrie in the back!” Robin instructed.

“Get something fun too! Like the Princess Bride or something! Something I’ll actually watch!” you called after her. Robin flashed you a thumbs up and you sighed, turning on your heel and heading to the checkout line, grabbing lime green packs of rainbow striped, sugar coated candies off the rack and clutching them to your chest.

Robin found Steve in the back and, with very little pushing, sent him out onto the floor to talk to you. It only took two tries from him to get the courage to go and talk to you.

And again, he scared the shit out of you. He tapped you on the shoulder and you jumped a foot in the air, dropping all the sugary treats.

“Shit sorry!” Steve cried, dropping to his knees to clean up the mess.

“It’s okay!” you replied quickly, following suit. He shouldn’t have to clean up your mess after all. Your hands both rushed to grab the packages and when they brushed one another over the last packet, you couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t nice. The briefest chance of touch set your heart aflutter. You felt like you were ten years old again. He handed the packages over quickly, standing up just as fast. He offered you a hand up, which you took, if only to hold his hand for the briefest of moments. God, who even were you? You pulled it away fast.

“So…what’s with all the sour strips?” he asked, looking over the armful of candy you had.

“They’re Robin’s favourite. She told me to grab a shit ton, so I did. She’s grabbing the movies for tonight.” You explained.

“What movies?”

“Robin wants to watch Carrie. I’m hoping she gets something fun too, like Fast Times at Ridgemount High or The Princess Bride. Something funny.” You replied. You’d never smiled so much in a day, your face was starting to hurt but with Steve you couldn’t help it!

“Oh yeah? Having a sleepover or something?” that cocky Steve Harrington attitude was coming out, but it wasn’t making you as nauseous as it usually would, which was very odd.

“Yeah kind of. Which means Robin’s gonna wanna watch horror movies, eat so many of these until she pukes, and sneak malt whiskey from her father’s liquor cabinet.” You said, not hiding the slight disdain in your voice.

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna hem the dress I made for the Roenke County theatre’s production of Romeo and Juliet, sip vodka from my flask, and take away the sour belts when Robin gets sick.”

“Sounds fun?” Steve questioned.

“It probably won’t be,” you chuckled “But it’s not the worst way to spend a night.”

“How’d you think an evening with me would chalk up? In comparison I mean.” Steve asked, his hand coming to the top of the low black shelf to lean into you.

“Well I guess it would depend, what’s your plan?” you asked with a grin.

“Whatever you want.” He murmured softly, smirking far too confidently. You didn’t mind though, you knew what was underneath it all.

“Well, I’d have to think about it…how about you call me sometimes and we’ll talk about it.” You replied slowly, looking him up and down.

“Anytime, you got a pen?” Steve said. You nodded, pulling one out of your purse and grabbing his arm. You scribbled out your number on his palm, trying to make it as legible as possible and ignore how big and warm his hands were.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, that cool?” he said as you watched Robin saunter up too confidently, too proud of herself and of what she’d done.

“Sounds good.” You smiled, ignoring Robin’s cocky leer. “You ready to pay for this shit?” you asked as she walked up, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Gimme the belts, I got this.” Robin said, eyeing up Keith like she was going to beat him up. Maybe she was. “Wait in the car, okay? I didn’t bring mine, so you’re driving me home.”

You nodded “Got it.” You turned to Steve, smiling softly “I’ll see you around, Harrington.”

“Definitely.”

5K notes · View notes

makkoskafanfic · 4 years

Text

WIP fic release

In which one Madara is the manager of the black metal band called the Akatsuki and shares a History with the Mayor of Konoha.

@enquiringangel this might be slightly cheating as this one’s fairly recent and I might actually continue it if my brain cooperates.

Madara wakes to a harrowing headache. He squints against the light, doing his best not to be sick and wishes he remembered to draw the curtains closed last night. It takes him some time to realise the pounding doesn’t only come from inside his skull - someone is knocking on the door of his hotel room as well.

He lurches to his feet and stumbles to the door to jerk it open.

“What,” he barks “is so urgent?”

“Wow, boss. You look like hell,” Obito takes a long look at him as he stands there in nothing but his boxers. “I could have lived without this sight.”

“Then go and bother someone else,” he tries to slam the door in the younger man’s face, but Obito holds it open with a hand. Madara feels too sick to fight, so he just wanders back to the bed and slumps down on it. “Let me die in peace.”

“Can’t do,” Obito says cheerfully. “It’s 10 already, we need to check out in an hour and we have to discuss the next steps of the tour before.”

Madara groans and pushes a pillow against his face. He then remembers it’s a hotel pillow, and who knows when it had been properly washed, so throws it away.

“Aren’t you supposed to be my assistant? Do something on your own for a change. I’m dying.”

“Are you hungover?”

“I wish I was. I hardly got to drink anything last night, as Kakuzu and Kisame got into a fight at the bar and I had to smooth things over.”

“A migraine then.”

“You don’t say.”

“Where are your meds?”

“Small bag in the big bag.”

Obito fishes the pills out and pours him a glass of water. He also wets a towel and handles it over to Madara, to lay it on his face. Madara likes him a bit more than he usually does in that moment.

He approached Madara about half a year ago, asking him to hire him. He was family - which was a good enough reason in itself to decline him in Madara’s opinion. But he had that kicked puppy look in his eyes when the older man told him to get lost. He just couldn’t go back home, he said. Not after all that happened.

He would have been a handsome guy, if not for the ugly scar on the right side of his face. There was some tragic love story in the background. In the end Madara was weak and offered him a job if he promised he would never again bore him with the details. He doesn’t want to be involved in the woes of a twenty-two years old. He has never really gotten over his own heartbreak from his early twenties, so he was hardly a suitable person to give any advice.

“You will get over it,” he told him. “Or maybe you won’t. Either way, I couldn’t care less about this Rin and Kakashi, so never mention them again. Here’s your contract. Money is shit, but then, I don’t really have anything for you to do.”

Obito signed without any questions and here he was now, giving Madara his painkillers, proving to be useful in the end.

“Are the circus freaks awake yet?” me mutters from under his wet towel.

“I heard Hidan’s yelling, so probably they are.”

“Go and check on them, won’t you? It would be great to keep the schedule for once.”

“I’m more concerned about you. Have you considered you are too old for this life?”

Madara pulls the towel off his face and raises his head with an effort to glare at Obito.

“I’m forty-seven you disrespectful little shit. I’m not old.”

“Whatever you say, gramps. Do I need to help to get you into the shower?”

Madara scrunches the towel into a ball and throws it at Obito. It hits him on the neck with a satisfying wet smack.

“Keep your hands to yourself and run me through the schedule.”

He gets to his feet, feeling marginally better as the painkillers start to kick in. He definitely feels the age in his back and he stretches, but he is careful not to wince as Obito is watching. He leaves the bathroom door slightly ajar, allowing the voice of his so-called assistant to carry through. He doesn’t listen as he knows everything by heart, but he might as well let him play being important. Madara, as the meticulous person he is, doesn’t forget the details of the tour plan. It’s a useful trait to have for the manager of the band, although it probably would come as a surprise to the fans who remember Madara as a chaotic rock star.

He used to be quite famous, being on the stage for a good fifteen years. He had a carefully built image, with everything in the book - the sometimes sensual, sometimes rude and shocking lyrics, the wild guitar riffs, a voice that had a classical education but was put to the best use when screaming into the mic. He used to have the looks, with his long mane of hair, the wiry muscles on his chest and arms that made him look good shirtless on the stage.

The rumours, the gossip and scandals that came with that lifestyle never bothered him. They had very little foundation - outside his stage persona, Madara has always been a reserved man, but that wasn’t what the fans wanted to see and in his opinion everybody was entitled to the illusions they preferred.

Madara has always been a smart man, too. As he passed fourty, all that came with the show, the tours, the gigs, the albums, the photo shoots started to get too much. So he just quit it, without any plan in place with what he wanted to do with his life.

He didn’t enjoy retirement, but then, it lasted about two months. He was approached by Yahiko, or as he became known on his stage name, by Pain, offering him the role of the manager for his newly formed black metal band, The Akatsuki. He already had the members, he explained, just needed someone with experience in the industry to help them break through.

Madara agreed to meet the band and realised that Yahiko-Pain, with his numerous piercings, spikey carrot-red hair and well formed messiah-complex was the least weird of them all still. He thought they wouldn’t last a month, but out of boredom he agreed to be their manager. It would be a laugh, he considered, some trash band with a manager who had no idea what he was doing.

Almost seven years have passed since. The Akatsuki have become surprisingly successful within their genre and Madara is still managing them. He didn’t even like them - on some days, like today, he outright loathes them - but he couldn’t figure out what else to do with the rest of his life.

By the time he checks out in the lobby, he feels mostly human again. The horrible migraine quilted down to an annoying, but bearable headache. He has his jacket zipped up to his chin, his hair up in a ponytail and large sunglasses covering most of his face, and nobody spares him a second glance.

“Madara, you fucking bastard,” Hidan, the guitarist shrieks at him when he approaches their bus. Madara doesn’t even wince - he has accepted years ago that Hidan is incapable of speaking in a normal tone or without unnecessary swear words. While his skills on the guitar are mediocre at best, he is a vital part of the show. One can always count on him to be shocking, offensive and obscene. He’s a considerable contributor to the spotlight the band gets on the media. “Last night was fucking awesome, man! The crowd just ate it all up! Where are we up next? Iwa? We will rock them! Haha! Kakuzu, you limp dick, do you get it? Rock them, as Iwa is…”

“Actually we’ve been in Iwa half a year ago,” Obito interrupts, as he still didn’t learn to just ignore Hidan. “That’s where we started the tour, remember. Our next stop is… Konoha,” he looks sour and Madara makes a mental note not to sit next to him on the drive. It’s going to

be a long one and he can’t bear listening to him go off about Rin-Kakashi-Rin-Kakashi-Rin-Kakashi again.

Especially as he’s not the only one upset by going back to Konoha. It’s not the first time Madara will be back of course - he has left over twenty years ago, and the town has become too prominent to miss out on tours. He was a nervous wreck on all occasions before and he’s not sure this time will be different. Well over two decades have passed, but Madara is not very good at moving on.

They all climb into the bus, which is getting rather small or rather, their team is getting too big. The four members of the band, Madara, Obito, Pain’s lethargic girlfriend slash occasional keyboardist and the “arts” team who are responsible for everything that happens on the stage that’s not music, from pyrotechnics to setting up equipment.

Kakuzu, their bassist, is behind the wheels as he claimed a driver is just a waste of money and the others couldn’t care less about who was driving. Madara sits down next to him on the front seat as the man at least doesn’t talk much. They all settle slowly, Pain and Konan in the back, so they can make out as they usually do, Hidan bickering with the blond arts kid, Kisame, the drummer, grumbling something about ergonomy as he tries to fold his tall frame into the seat. Obito sits next to him, seeming ready to start off his tirade about his bloody annoying love triangle.

Madara puts in some music so he doesn’t have to listen to any of them and decides on feigning sleep on the majority of the trip. He can already feel anxiety setting down inside his very bones. Going home isn’t something he looks forward to.

#hashimada #madara #fanfic #wip #wip fic release #modern au #akatsuki #unedited sorry!

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justsomefluff · 4 years

Note

Hello I was wondering if you could do an ateez reaction to going to a fashion show with their girlfriend 🥺❤

here it is!! sorry it’s so late!! I hope you enjoy! <3

Hongjoong:

Okay so Joong is the type to pretend he doesn’t want to go

But then love every second of it

And after your first one, he’s gonna beg you to go to more shows with him

Like every time a model comes out wearing something new, even if the entire look is hideous, he’s gonna complement something about the look

Because he knows how hard the models and designers work to make all this happen

And if there’s a look he really really loves, he’ll look at you and be like

Im gonna buy that for you

Suddenly showering you in complements

“Babe, you’d look so beautiful in that”

“Babe, you’re the most stunning person in here”

NO FAX, JUST PRINTER

And at the end of the night, you’ve both compiled a list of colors and styles you would like to see on each other

So you decide to make each other outfits for the next date you go on

And its just so cute bc Joongie really does draw inspiration from everything he sees

So he totally writes a song about this experience with you

Seonghwa:

Seonghwa is not shy about his love for fashion

Like he has his own sense of style, and he loves choosing things that he feels will express his personality

So when you guys get the chance to go to a fashion show together

OH BOY GET READY

He’s gonna grade every look under his breath on a scale from 1-10

And then he’ll tell you what he likes most about each style that is presented

He tries not to be too critical though bc he knows that everyone’s tastes are different

Will also ask your opinion on the outfits

Like “ooh what do you think of that one? I really like the textures on it!”

You will both choose your top two outfits

like you choose them so that you have one you want just for yourself and one that you want for him

And then he does the same

You typically choose similar looks because you know each other’s style super well

And Hwa is totally the type to surprise you by buying you one of the pieces he had seen you eyeing more than the others

“Just as a thank you for coming with me :)”

Yunho:

His crackhead comes out in full force at fashion shows, believe me

I mean seriously

Every time something comes out that he doesn’t like he insults it in a really funny way

And you’re sitting in the front row so your literally biting your lip so hard to not laugh in front of all these cameras

Like a model comes out with a bunch of feathers on her outfit and Yunho’s just like

“Heads up, everybody, Chicken Little has just hit the stage!”

Or if he sees something particularly revealing he’s like

“Wouldn’t you love to see me in that, baby”

Like would you just hush already lmao

He takes a picture of every single look that he finds funny, just so he can send them to you later with a funny caption

But he also sees one he really loves

Will take a picture of your side profile when you aren’t looking

And the model is coming down the runway in the background

He will save that picture as his background as a reminder that he is going to get you that outfit someday

But he will try not to let you find out that he was so soft about it lmao

So he tries to keep you from seeing his wallpaper

He really wants it to be a surprise, but he also cant stop looking at the picture and imagining the moment you are finally able to put the outfit on

Yeosang:

(he’s so cute I cant breatheeee)

Yeosang will sit pretty silently through most of it

But do not be fooled

NO MODEL IS SAFE

He is judging and critiquing every single look like it is his JOB

The most stone cold poker face you will ever see

Will only crack a smile if you whisper “you’d look so good in that, Sangie”

But when you finally leave he will show you any of the pictures he had taken and start a legitimate conversation about how you liked or disliked each look

Has a grading system lmao

Like you have A-F grading scale, but also categories that each look has to fulfill

Color, texture, fit, overall flow of the patterns and clothing items, etc.

And you can play along for a while before you’re finally like

“YEOSANG, WE ARENT JUDGES ON NEXT TOP MODEL”

“We could be”

Like boy if you don’t-

But then he gives in and he’s like “just tell me which one you loved the most and I’ll tell you if it was good or not”

So you do and he’s like “THAT WAS THE WORST LOOK OF THE ENTIRE NIGHT WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT”

And then that launches a playful debate about who has better fashion sense

But overall you both had a really good time and plan on making this an annual tradition

San:

(he’s so breathtaking here im sorry I mean cmon his hair matches his sweatshirt)

This fashionista here

Sees the artistry in every look and compliments literally everything

Very genuine in his appreciation for the work that has been done

Spewing compliments the entire time

“Omg look how intricate all the stitching is.”

“That fascinator is so stunning, look at all the colors wow”

And it’s so cute to just watch him

Like he’s assessing all the models with the biggest doe eyes

He really is like a little kid at Disneyland for the first time

Just so excited and appreciative of every little thing

“I wish our next comeback could be so beautiful like this!”

“Sannie, your comebacks are always beautiful”

“BUT LOOK AT ALL THIS ELEGANCE!!”

It’s just so adorable

And when the designer comes out at the end of each parade of models, you can bet San is cheering the loudest

And he’ll be so inspired and as his makeup noonas to try and replicate some of the looks he had seen

Gets hella motivated and literally starts drawing up ideas that he has for costumes and things

He’s just a sweet baby who sees the beauty in everything and wants to make beautiful things too

And he will always ask your opinion on his drawings

“Do you like this one? Do you think it could work?”

And of course you tell him all of them are fantastic bc they are

And you guys work together to make some of his outfit dreams come true

Mingi:

At fashion shows, Mingi thrives bc models tend to be really tall for some reason

As a short person, I am offended by tall people’s clothes

ANYWAY

Mingi is just looking at the pants like “I bet those would actually fit me on the first try”

And then he’s like “baby, I could be a model”

And you’re like “I already knew that, you’ve always been pretty”

He gets blushy aww

“I’m pretty” UWUUUUUU

And now that you’ve got him going you cant just let that blush fade away I mean its too cute

Don’t squander this opportunity to make our baby blush even harder

So literally every other model your whispering “you’d look better in that”

“You’d be the best model here, Minnie”

And eventually he’s smiling so big and blushing so hard that he’s like “stoop my cheeks hurt”

So you settle for giving him a lil smoochie on his cheek

But then he shall take his revenge

Starts complementing you even more than you had complemented him

Thus begins a complement war

By the end, both of you realize that you’ve ignored the last two sets of models and had just been telling each other how much you love each other over and over

Get a room you guys I mean really

Wooyoung:

Wooyoung is a giggly mess

The entire time

Because he thinks every little thing is funny

A model’s makeup is too extreme? He’s laughing

Someone’s hair is too wild? He’s laughing

Someone looks like they rolled straight out of a dumpster? he’s laughing and saying “thats you”

Like SHUT UP lmaoooo

He’s also laughing bc he’s imagining the members in all of the ugly outfits

Like “lmao imagine Hongjoong wearing that big ole hat”

“Imagine Seonghwa wearing those balloon shorts”

Like he’s so annoying lmao

But it does have you both laughing hard enough to get dirty looks from other spectators

Once he eventually calms down and hushes himself, he actually starts getting into it and thoroughly enjoys watching the way the clothes flow when the models walk and stuff

He finds it genuinely interesting to see how each artist has fit the clothes to each specific model’s body type

But he will still fit in some snide comments here and there to make sure you’re fully entertained

Bc if he’s not laughing… is it really Wooyoung

Jongho:

Okay Jongho is definitely into fashion

Whether he is obvious about his affinity for cool clothes or not, he’s into it okay

And he evaluates every look in terms of “would I look good in that? Would bae look good in that? Would any of the hyungs look good in that?”

Very thoughtful baby

Will take pictures to send to people and be like “this reminds me of you”

Will say it directly to you too

He is also kinda cheesy and poetic about it

“The bright pink reminds me of how happy you make me”

“That blue is like the sky when you’re around: cloudless”

Eventually you’re like “oh shut up ya freak” lmao

And then he’s laughing bc he’s embarrassed that he said all that

He’s like “why am I so cheesy”

And you low-key love it so you just smile at him

But then he keeps taking pictures of the models and eventually starts taking pictures of you bc he just loves you and finds you so breathtaking awww

At the end of the night he’s so sweet to you and thanks you for coming with him and hopes you had a good time and-

You just kiss him and tell him you had a lot of fun and you should definitely do it again next time there’s a show in town

He definitely agrees bc he really just loved sharing that experience with you

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suddenlysackler · 4 years

Text

Afterglow (Nice to Meet You Series)

Charlie Barber x Reader

Nice to Meet You: a series of one shots based off of this post. Previous installments can be found here:

Adam Sackler

TW: Lil bit of angst and cynicism at the beginning, mentions of divorce, breakups, anxiety, depression, mention of alcohol consumption

A/N: This is my first piece that I’ve posted in awhile, I’m so sorry for the content drought! This series is kind of sporadic atm (kind of a result of life) but I miss you all so very much. Here’s to a normal content schedule some day 💓 Thank you for reading!

...

Timing always tends to be a funny thing, you supposed.

You weren’t sure if you were an “everything happens for a reason” sort of person person, a person who believed in fate. Who believed in soulmates. You used to be that way six years ago, before the reality of life and relationships and loss and grief and disappointment and all of the wonderful bad things had gotten to you. Had snatched up who you were, chewed that essence up, and spit it right back out.

So here you were, one year removed from when everything essentially blew up in your face, leaving you to rebuild.

And here Charlie was, coming off one of the worst years of his life, knowing almost exactly how you felt.

The cynic in you is saying that it’s just too cliché, the two of you being so broken and finding each other like this.

The small voice in the back of your mind that’s still clinging to the dreamer you once were? It’s telling you that the two of you were meant to find each other and, yeah, you roll your eyes every time the thought crosses your mind. However, with each passing day, you become more and more convinced that it was true.

How embarrassing.

It’s one of those rare September days that happen before the seasons change, when it feels more like mid October than the last few days of summer. Your cheeks are burning from the wind that whips your hair everywhere, a pleasant cold that you’d longed for over the summer months. The hot coffee in your hand threatens to spill from it’s cup and you take tentative sips when you absolutely have to stop at crosswalks and wait for cars to go by before darting out again.

Naturally, you were running late to the Saturday morning meeting of people on the New York theater scene planning for what the industry calls red bucket season. In the aftermath of all of the loss and grief and spiraling thoughts last fall you had finally said yes to the constant begging of your coworkers in the marketing department at Schubert and started to become more heavily involved with Broadway Cares/Equity Fights Aids. The overwhelming joy that came with the annual Flea Market in the Schubert Ally last September had given you hope to last all the way through to red bucket season, which carried you into the spring and helped you to feel like you were doing something productive with your time other than sleep, eat, work, and cry.

You’d met people from different companies in the theater world, met so many lovely actors and musicians and dressers and heads of house and developed a net to busy yourself, to affirm your sense of self worth, to get a drink with on a Sunday afternoon when the ghost light was finally turned on after the matinee crowd had finally cleared the stage door and the last member of the orchestra had said goodnight.

Taking a deep breath and glancing at your watch only to see that you were fifteen minutes late, you swallow and push your way through the doors, cheeks heating up even more if at all possible. There isn’t anyone you know staring back at you when all twenty something people turn to see who had arrived late and interrupted the meeting’s organizer. You cringe internally as you call out a simple apology and slip into the first vacant seat that catches your eye.

Enter Charlie Barber.

His head whipped back when everyone else’s had. He had looked you up and down, tried to see if you were anyone he knew like everyone else in the room. He couldn’t see you, didn’t really see you until you plopped down next to him, wind blown and flustered and absolutely breathtaking.

Post divorce finalization, Charlie had decided that he wasn’t going to go looking for someone else. He didn’t need someone to come in and pick up all the pieces or any of that bullshit. He wasn’t looking for a savior to fix it all —grief was something to handle on your own in his eyes.

As you lean over and whisper another apology to him specifically, as if you had inconvenienced him personally by sweeping into the room late and choosing to sit next to him and draw attention to him too, Charlie feels like he’s been hit by a truck. The simple apology rings like a crescendo through his head and chest and he feels it in his bones. He rushes out his acknowledgement, tells you it’s okay, but he feels like his mouth has turned into molasses.

About halfway through the presentation, he leans over and nudges you, pointing out a typo in the slide presentation. It’s a bold move, all things considered — you did know the woman running the meeting, she was your boss and someone you considered to be a close acquaintance. You’d mentioned as much when Charlie had turned to you during some dumb partner exercise she had made you all do to get to know each other.

The stifled laughter that bubbles past your lips rivals any top forty hit that played in the background when Charlie got his coffee that morning, much earlier than you, in the coffee shop three blocks from the auditorium you were now sitting in. Suddenly, he finds himself obsessing over how it would sound uninhibited by the social circumstances. He wants to make you laugh over and over again.

It’s chance that the two of you are assigned to help run the first red bucket training session of the season before the first performance of a long running musical that you had never seen nor cared to have seen three days later. It’s close to dinner time and you’ve had a long day at the office. Charlie’s had a long day too, a long few days thinking about when he’d see you again. How well the two of you had gotten on, how your hands had brushed over each other at the stupid little food spread during your break on Saturday.

He thinks about what he should wear, what you’d be wearing, if you’d want to run across the street afterwards and split a pie at the local pizza joint that all of the tourists frequented before shows, wanting to get an “authentic” slice but not wanting to stray to far from the familiarity of the theater district and Times Square in all of it’s grubby, overrated glory.

Charlie doesn’t assume he’d even crossed your mind since you parted ways Saturday. He figures you’re busy, that you aren’t looking for anything because you’re just fine on your own or maybe you’re with somebody else. He doesn’t chance snooping on your social media to break the lovely reverie dancing in his head as he falls asleep Saturday, Sunday, and Monday evening. The one where he gets to start over, gets to start a relationship that’s based in equal footing and rationality rather than fear and chaotic emotions and limelight.

Little does he know that you’ve been thinking about him too, your mind reeling with the same possibilities for yourself. It scared you more than anything that you’d even begun to entertain those types of thoughts.

You knew he’d just come off of an ugly divorce. Hell, you knew who he was when you had plopped down next to him and caught a glimpse of his furrowed brow and broad shouldered stature. You hadn’t expected someone as busy as him, as important as him to be here with the rest of you, all minor players in the theater world for the most part. You certainly hadn’t expected to enjoy your time with him and dance almost the whole way home because you were so excited that you’d been given the opportunity to see him again.

Was it worth asking him to hang out after the meeting? Would he laugh in your face? Turn you down politely and tell you he’d see you at your next assigned training session? Would he ignore it and walk out to meet someone else and kiss them under the lights of the marquees?

You spent the whole meeting wondering how you would ask him, if you would even ask him. You worked on autopilot, completely preoccupied with stealing glances across the room at Charlie, joking with Charlie during breaks, brushing Charlie’s hand when you passed him paper...Charlie, Charlie, Charlie.

“Nice work tonight.” A baritone voice pulls you from your thoughts and you glance up to see the man himself, eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiles down at you while the cast filters back stage.

You start to clean things up, trying to busy yourself so you don’t put your foot in your mouth. “You too, Charlie.” You hum, mentally kicking yourself because wow were you lame. You could have said anything else and you just echoed his words instead? Your chances were slipping right through your fingers.

He picks at lint on his sweater that isn’t even there, kicks some invisible object as he watches you. “How come I’ve never seen you around before last weekend? Charlotte told me you’ve been with Schubert for awhile now and both of my shows have been in Schubert buildings. So’s my third.”

“You were talking to Charlotte about me?” You ask, head snapping up with a shit eating grin. He was talking about you with other people?

Charlie’s cheeks go bright red and his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his. He stumbles over his words, tries to come up with any other explanation to hide the truth of why he had asked Charlotte about you. Before he could say anything else, you swallow your nerves, then stand up straighter.

“Because maybe I’ve been talking to her about you.” You shrug — you hadn’t really. Hell, you don’t even know why the words came out of your mouth.

His eyes sparkle a bit as he tilts his head. “Maybe?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

The man standing across from you grabs an armful of infographics and slips them into the box that was meant to go to the head of house, to have on hand for people interested in donating. “Charlotte mentioned you liked pizza.” He says and, of course, it couldn’t have been true, you didn’t know Charlotte that well, but you appreciated the effort.

You smile and take a step forward, looking him up and down shyly. “Maybe I do.”

Charlie snorts, rolls his eyes, then nudges you playfully for good measure as he prays that he’s reading the room correctly. “Well maybe you’d want to get some with me?”

You half hear the question. He’s so handsome and you wonder if he knows it. If he knows he’s had you weak at the knees since the minute you’d made eye contact with him Saturday. “Maybe I’d like that.” You say, eyes round and full of wonder.

He smiles, putting his hands in his pockets. “It’s a date then.”

“You want to call it a date?” Butterflies are now running rampant in your stomach.

“Maybe.”

You’re both grinning from ear to ear now, faces hot and hands sweaty and shaking. “If you’re calling it a date, then yeah. I’d like that a lot.”

So Charlie takes you across the street and you each eat half a pizza, laughing over cheap wine and talking about how snooty actors could be. How demanding the stage door was. Your respective backgrounds in theater, his early success, your acceptance of the fact that you wouldn’t make it big and it was better to just settle into marketing and still be in the industry. Job security and such.

He takes your hand outside of the restaurant as you lead him toward the local bakery that sells cookies fresh from the oven.

You intertwine your fingers with his while you stand in line for hot chocolate as dusk turns to night in Central Park.

He kisses you after wiping a bit of chocolate from the corner of your mouth on the Brooklyn bound A train a half hour later. And again on your stoop when you finally arrive home.

He kisses you another time after he gives you his number and then once more when he realizes he’s only a ten minute walk from your apartment.

After heading upstairs, showering, doing some dirty dishes, and then plopping onto your bed, you smile when you see three texts from Charlie on your phone’s lock screen. Was it cliché to say that he had swooped in and fixed everything? Yeah and he didn’t fix anything really. He’d kissed you a few times and held your hand, sure, and he seemed like he wanted more. You wanted more too, but that didn’t mean that you were healed.

All you did know was that the hopeless romantic in you was louder than they had been for the better part of two years and you couldn’t stop smiling and wondering if it was coincidence that you had plopped down next to Charlie Barber during the meeting. Was it coincidence that the barista had taken longer with your latte that morning or was it fate telling you to take a deep breath and hold on tight because in a matter of minutes, you’d be meeting someone special.

#Charlie Barber #Adam Driver #Marriage Story #reader self insert #Charlie x reader #Charlie Barber x reader #Charlie #Charlie Barber fic #Charlie fic #Marriage Story fic #charlie barber x you #charlie x you #charlie barber reader insert

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superman86to99 · 4 years

Photo

Adventures of Superman #506 (November 1993)

Superman vs. Superboy! I mean, vs. Superman, since the Kid still insists that Superboy is definitely NOT his name and never will be. The two Supermen meet while the younger, radder one is dealing with some sort of deformed flying babies that are trying to kill him, which is the sort of thing that happens to you when you wear an “S” emblem on your chest.

These turn out to be deformed flying babies THAT EXPLODE, but the Kid is able to push them away with his (very non-Superman-esque) telekinesis powers. He then deduces that these things must have come out of Project Cadmus, the top secret genetic experimentation facility that created him, and brushes off the elder Superman to get back at those geeks by doing what he does best: being a brat on live TV.

So I guess the “top secret” part of Cadmus’ description is no longer accurate, thanks to the Kid. On the other hand, I kinda feel like the people of Metropolis deserved to know that there's a nearby government facility churning out genetic atrocities into their sewers.

The Cadmus gang sends Guardian to bring their wayward creation home so they can talk to him. Obviously the Kid isn't very interested, and for a while it looks like we might get the fight scene teased in the cover, but then Superman the First convinces Superman the Second that he should at least hear them out. And, while at it, ask Cadmus to tell him exactly what the hell he is. If he’s Superman’s clone, why does he have those weird TK powers? The Kid agrees, but... he doesn't like the answers he gets.

The Kid finds out that he's NOT a clone of Superman since, as established a while back, Kryptonians are damn hard to clone. So, since Cadmus was determined to create a new Superman after the original appeared to be dead, they instead took a clone of a regular, non-super man and genetically modified it to approximate Superman's powers (for instance, translating Superman’s “aura” into a telekinetic field). But who was that human DNA donor? Surely it was someone good and cool!

Just after the Kid wonders that, the quite evil and deeply uncool Director Westfield bursts into the lab and demands that this "super-punk" be taken into custody, probably so they can flush him down the toilet like Cadmus' other failed experiments. Superman makes Westfield see that making Cadmus' whistleblower disappear wouldn't look very good right now, but they can't just let him run around unsupervised. So, at Guardian's recommendation, the esteemed telepath Dubbilex is assigned to follow the Kid wherever he goes. I smell a sitcom! (Or a spin-off comic.)

As a last order of business, the Kid decides to give Superman his trademark to the Superman name, which his manager Rex Leech doesn't take too well. So what are they gonna call this teenage “S” emblem-wearing hero now? Superman has an interesting suggestion: SUPERBOY. Our young friend still isn't a fan.

But after storming out and thinking about it for a couple of pages (and trying out the name on some guys robbing a jewelry shop), the Kid realizes he's "earned" the title of Superboy and accepts it. Character development! And just in time for his solo series. ("That Non-Superman Clone Who Also Calls Himself Superman" wouldn't look good on a cover.)

Plotline-Watch:

The final page shows a shadowy figure shaped like the recently introduced Bloodthirst outfitting someone with a weapon-teleporting gizmo, then calling him "Bloodsport"... except that this dude is quite paler than the Bloodsport we met way back in Superman #4 (in an issue inked by current writer Karl Kesel, so you'd think he'd remember the character). This looks nothing like Idris Elba! What gives?!

Superboy is still bummed out because his friend Tana Moon left Metropolis without telling him where she was going, which is now known as "ghosting". In the end, Rex talks about sending Superboy on a promotional tour to establish his new brand, and the first destination of that tour will be... exactly where Tana went to hide from Superboy. This is now known as "time to get a restraining order."

Clark Kent is slowly morphing into a hipster the longer he rooms with Jimmy Olsen. For a long time I assumed all the bands listed in the panel below were made up, but turns out the only non-existing ones are “James Rock” and "Axel Rose". Luckily, Superboy was happy to give Clark's old apartment back to him (apparently only Pulitzer-winning journalists can afford it), so Jimmy won't hipsterize him for much longer.

Westfield gladly assigns Dubbilex to Superboy because it means there won't be a telepath at Cadmus to read his thoughts and find out about his evil plans (like sending the ugly flying babies after Superboy). Very clever, Westfield! Except for the fact that he thought that right in front of Dubbilex, who clearly "heard" the whole thing.

Incidentally, there's an apparent error in this issue when Superboy thinks "They won't take me without a fight!" and Guardian shows up and says "That's too bad, son. Because I don't want to fight you." How did Guardian know what Superboy was thinking? Obviously, Dubbilex patched Guardian through to Superboy's mind to assist in finding him. Now where's my damn Baldy Award?!

Is it me or is this page reminiscent of the cover to Superboy Prime's first appearance during Crisis on Infinite Earths?

Patreon-Watch:

Special thanks to your Patreon pals Aaron, Murray Qualie, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, and Samuel Doran, and welcome aboard to Bheki Latha (our first $6.50 patron ever!), Mark Syp, and Ryan Bush! You are all excellent. This month they got to read a long-ass post entitled 45 Things I Learned by Reading the “Death of Superman” Novel (Part 1), in which I talked about the stuff Roger Stern added to the canon in the first part of the Death and Life of Superman book. This includes Superman’s private thoughts on the JLI (and Guy Gardner in particular), what Lex Jr. calls Supergirl in bed, and Professor Hamilton getting romantic. Find out more at https://www.patreon.com/superman86to99

But now: the Don Sparrow show! Take it away, Don.

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

The end of an era, at least temporarily, as Tom Grummett draws his last Adventures of Superman issue, moving onto Superboy (and I think still doing Robin at this time?) with Karl Kesel. He’ll return for the quarterly Superman: Man of Tomorrow and other things, but it’s a long gap until he does.

A pretty good cover, with Superman and Superboy about to tussle. Though it can be seen as cheaping out on the backgrounds, I always love radial rays as an effect.

Inside the issue, we have a great splash page of Superboy getting attacked by botched clones, and I love the gesture here—having his head snapping away from the camera adds to the motion and action. Great stuff.

Though he won’t be drawing her again for a while, Grummett excels at the new, shorter-haired Lois in these pages. Superman soaring to the skies is a great panel as well, and I especially like the way his cape and fist slightly break the panel barrier, giving it a sense of motion, again.

The sequence of Guardian acrobatically flipping from one ledge to another is very well drawn. Ditto the splash on page 13, where Superboy loses his temper. The body language in this whole sequence tells the story very well, as Superman is calm and patient, confident in his ability not only to reach Superboy with his words, but also withstand him physically.

The way Superboy snaps the carpet, but controls it mentally with his Tactile Telekinesis is a great example of his unique powers in use. It reminds me of a technique they tried on the CW Supergirl show (but almost immediately abandoned) where they made like the Kryptonian fabric of their capes was like “smart fabric” and could be used as a weapon.

Lastly, the dreamy, child-like expression on Superboy’s face during the Peter Pan exchange is wonderful, and a fitting end for Tom’s run on the book. [Max: You mean the William Shatner exchange, Don.]

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

I almost never like it when they reference pop culture stuff in Superman comics, particularly music. Karl Kesel isn’t the worst offender in that department (that would be JM DeMatties a few years down the line, who had Clark Kent bizarrely asserting he loved the Beastie Boys) but Clark’s discussion with Jimmy about an apparently fictional musician working with a rolodex of early nineties names makes me cringe (as does trying to imagine how awful a “Hip Hop Lyle Lovett” or “Grunge Frank Sinatra” would sound).

The car poster on the wall of Jimmy’s bachelor pad looks for all the world like Robin’s Redbird, also a Tom Grummett creation. (Fun fact: Tom once told me he still gets {very small} royalty cheques from the Batman & Robin movie, because Robin’s motorcycle was called the Redbird, though that might no longer be true with Paul Levitz no longer in charge of such matters.)

Superboy (in no less than his third time calling those pink creatures “spuds”) references John Candy and Joe Flaherty’s “Farm Film Celebrity Blow Up” where the guests would frequently “blow up real good” and it does my SCTV loving Canadian heart good.

It’s interesting (and a little sad) that they again note that Superboy knows things (pop culture, etc) without ever having experienced it. I feel like there’s a lot they could do with this concept.

This issue reads very much like the end of the Superboy “Reign” issues, as Superman is more of a secondary character to the kid. All of it begs the question of why Superman, or Guardian put up with Cadmus. Superman has said in previous issues that he has moral problems with how Cadmus treats life with their cloning experiments, and they’ve attacked him in the past (and also stole his corpse!) so other than the fact that it’s a launchpad for Superboy’s series, there’s really no reason any of these heroes should associate with Cadmus. Especially Guardian, who comes off as little more than an errand boy here. He wants to bring Superboy in, but won’t promise Superboy won’t be harmed or imprisoned?

Nice to see Superboy return to his “Slammin’” catch phrase!

An interesting bit of foreshadowing when Superboy asks Big Words whose clone he is, and who immediately enters but Westfield. [Max: That’s right, Westfield! Not Luthor! Sorry, sorry.]

#superman #karl kesel #tom grummett #doug hazlewood #superboy #project cadmus #paul westfield #dubbilex #guardian #carl packard #rex leech #roxy leech #bloodthirst #bloodsport #hip-hop lyle lovett #grunge sinatra

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marikaaajoy · 4 years

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my relationship with digital art and how BNHA salvaged it

I just wanted to let out my thoughts but I can only do it here :>

This might be a downer for some people but I’d like to share it with people here. BNHA means the world to me and this is why.

I first started drawing when I was 7 years old in 2006

I think it’s ugly now, but 7 year old me remembered being so proud of this because this is a drawing of my stepfather. This is the only drawing I have that was from my childhood. I think the aim here is to draw in anime style BUT I didn’t even watch anime back then. I had a classmate who loves anime and she taught me to draw in school. Drawing became a favorite hobby immediately after that.

Then it was 2013 and I was 14 years old. Drawing is still my favorite thing to do besides being on the computer. I love anime at this point too. My parents bought an iPad for the whole family, but I was almost always the one using it. I discovered an app called ArtStudio and thought “Wow, I can draw without making a mess and with only my fingers” because I was always too lazy to take out my drawing materials and clean up afterwards.

These were my first digital drawings. The pirate one was the very first. I got obsessed real fast. I can color so easily, undo any mistake, layers are a blessing too. There was just so much more freedom. I always sucked at coloring in traditional art and I didn’t like the mess (idk my hands get so messy traditionally)

The next year, it was 2014, I was 15. My birthday is in a couple of months and I knew my parents were planning to buy me something pricey (I think it was a laptop) so I approached them and asked if they could just buy the Wacom Bamboo as a present which was cheaper anyway and I even explained how it works to them and how it would allow me to draw on the computer instead of the iPad. I tried really hard to be convincing. I would have prepared a powerpoint presentation if I had to.

They did give me the wacom as a present. They even gave it to me months before my birthday so I could use it already. I thought I was the luckiest teen in the world with my parents.

These are a collection of my favorite works from 2014 to 2016. The middle one was my second drawing using wacom and Paint Tool SAI. I was a part of a lot of fandoms in those years lol

It gets downhill from there :/

April 2016, my mom and I moved to Japan, while my stepfather and siblings stay in my country. It was tough. For someone who is obsessed with anime, you’d think I’d be thrilled to live in Japan.

I was. Though only at the first few months. It’s not the same as it’s portrayed in anime (I should’ve known but I used to be blinded by anime). It was just lonely. The language barrier sucked and then lots of financial and family issues until my parents split. I got my first boyfriend too and I thought I was blessed by the nicest boy, but the relationship became extremely toxic but I didn’t have it in me to walk away.

All the shit that happened affected me mentally and emotionally. My biggest outlet which was digital drawing, was also out of the question because I did not have a computer/laptop when we moved to Japan. We left it in our home for my stepfather and siblings, even the iPad. I have my wacom with me, but no computer/laptop to use it with. I couldn’t draw.

I tried though. I used my phone to draw, but it wasn’t the same. Then the life problems got piled up, things got worse, and I just lost motivation in anything. Literally anything. From 2016 to 2019, I stopped watching anime, I dropped out of all the fandoms I’m in, I stopped watching my favorite TV series or movies, and I stopped drawing. I even got a bit disconnected with my friends who lived in my country (we talk regularly online). My family was broken so I gave all my attention to my toxic relationship as well which made everything worse too lol

I didn’t draw besides from a few scribbles and the drawings above. I did try digital art on my phone a couple of times again and even posted them on my IG, but they weren’t any good. Eventually, I got mentally and emotionally drained and dropped out of senior high school. I just stayed home for almost a year, leeching off of my mom. I felt even more worthless and my life had no direction at this point. Nothing mattered anymore.

April 2019 or so I think, my (ex)bf bought me a laptop. He says it’s a gift, but I think the real reason was to make up for something horrible that he did (which is stupid because money /gifts won’t resolve anything). I have a laptop. I can draw again, but I didn’t. I didn’t care, I wasn’t interested in drawing anymore anyway.

Welp. June 2019, I went back to my country. My (ex) bf stayed in Japan. The distance helped me end the relationship and my friends were there (they always were) to help put me back together along with two trips to therapy. I went back to finish my senior high school in my own country this time. That said, I have to stay in my country for school (but I was happy because I didn’t wanna go back to Japan yet when the breakup was still fresh and with going back to school, my life has a direction again.)

It was weird. I remember just being sorta lost and confused because I used to put my time, effort and everything into my previous toxic relationship, which was now gone. I was free and I had so much free time that I didn’t know what to do with it. I got so used to doing nothing and being nothing.

This is where BNHA enters.

Dunno when it started, but I started seeing Bakugou frequently online. It’s usually just Bakugou. I knew who he was because my friend suggested BNHA to me back in late 2018 I think but I didn’t watch it since I’ve lost interest in everything at that point in my life.

But ye I thought he hot af but I still didn’t watch BNHA.

But then for some reason he REALLY kept appearing in my social medias and it was really frequent. The last straw was when I saw a pic of him in UA’s gym uniform and thought “damn boi aight imma watch bnha for u” (y’all gotta admit he looks good in those colors with his combat boots XD )

I watched BNHA. Fell in love with Iida along the way. Then I switched to Tokoyami (but Shoji was hot too so aaaaa), but then angry emotionally-constipated sea urchin head caught my heart again. But oof. BakuDeku moments really made me feel some type of way I haven’t felt since I moved to Japan. It felt new but nostalgic. I fell hard in that ship.

I started obsessing. From memes to posts to fanfictions to buying merch to filling my room with BNHA posters. I realized I was reverting to my old self from the time I was still happy and it was thanks to BNHA (and the good people who helped me through the worst too)

Shit I wanted to draw BNHA, I thought.

I mean, I have a laptop, I still have my wacom and drawing softwares. I could totally draw digitally again if I wanted to.

But guess what

I can’t :c

My hand physically cannot draw. My drawings don’t look the way I want them too. 3 years of not drawing really destroyed any skill I had. I was back to square one.

September (yeah they’re ugly, I laughed at it). If you’re wondering why I drew on paper, it’s because, for some reason, I really CANNOT draw digitally. I mean it. I can barely sketch digitally at this point. The lines and shapes just doesn’t come to life. They’re just scribbles. But somehow, I can kinda draw on paper with a ballpoint pen. But yeah, that was the best I could do at this point in my life

After that, I still tried to draw, to regain my old art style, but it didn’t happen... It just doesn’t look or feel the same. Drawing used to be fun. But during this phase, it felt like my ugly drawings were just mocking me (probably was just too emo that time lol)

Weirdly, around a week or two I think, after my half-assed attempts at drawing, I managed to draw digitally somehow o.o

I did a Midoriya and Todoroki drawing like this too. It was my first post here on Tumblr I think. The annoying part here is that I cannot draw digitally unless I draw on paper first, take a pic, and then trace the lineart. I couldn’t draw directly on the computer. Granted, drawing on paper and drawing on digital is very different for me in the first place anyway. But it was still a pain. And it still looked like shit. I can only draw stiff poses :/ it seems like my brain decided to delete all data about anatomy and posture and backgrounds. My lineart here is even messy af. It still really not the same as my old style.

By 2020, I think I got my old art style back. On March, I made this. This took me 27 total of hrs to make.

Right now, I think it’s not bad, but back in March, I was disappointed with the result. This is when I finally broke down crying because it didn’t look good enough and I hated that it took me 27 hrs to draw “bullshit.” I was angry at myself for losing interest in drawing for 3 years when I could’ve used that time to improve. I had to start all over again and it still didn’t look good. (Current me thinks that the drawing above is alright. I was just a lot harsher to myself back then. Used to have a lot of issues but I’m doing great now)

I cried myself to sleep that night. Woke up wanting to cry again. I wallowed in sadness for a couple of days. Eventually told my friends what’s up. Got some pep talk. Even talked to my sister (she’s great, she always hypes me up with my stuff and sometimes I think she’s my biggest fan with how she appreciates my drawings and I’m really grateful for that).

My world turned a 180 and I was weirdly positive after all that crying because brain chemicals and shit. I had a revelation. If I hate how my art style looked so much, then I should have been putting effort in changing my art style, not trying to regain my old art style (that I don’t like anymore)

I researched a lot. I analyzed different art styles and anatomy again. I did everything I could think of to find a style that works for me. I might have even neglected school for a bit to focus on digital art lmao

After all that work, I posted a fanart of middle school BakuDeku in their classroom. I love that fanart so much even if I probably have better ones by now because that was the first fanart I made that I felt like I could be proud of and it was the first one I made in my new art style. It was a milestone for me.

March 2020, I moved back to Japan and without the toxic relationship, I’m a lot positive now. Happy. I’m myself again after the previous bad years. I’m still continuously learning though, trying to improve, but at least, now, I found my own art style :) I really suck at interacting with people online, but I’m always grateful for the support everyone has been giving my fanarts. I’m happy when my content makes people happy.

This is why BNHA is important to me. The series is great alone, but it’s not just that to me. BNHA is so much more. It’s what made me find the passion to create again, only this time, it’s focused on drawing (I used to write, but now I just draw, but maybe I’ll write again for BNHA).

My family is supportive with my love for BNHA, but I think they don’t know the deeper reason why I love it. Sure, I was fine living on with nothing much going on in my life. I’ll finish school, get a job, work until I die or something. It was okay. It was the way of life. But BNHA gave my life color again. I wasn’t just blindly going through life anymore. I have something to look forward to everyday now. BNHA even became a bridge to other things. Ever since then, I’m a lot more open to people, to try new things, to explore and not just live through life and waste away. I got better at leaving my comfort zone. I’ve never been happier in my life :D

Thank you for supporting my fanarts. Thank you so much for giving me a chance to express myself through BNHA. I hope to make more content in the future and improve even more :)

#plus ultra #<3 #personal

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 4 years

Text

Broken arm

A/N: This was requested by anon, I hope you enjoy! please let me know what you think! Also this is like my worst fear, like that sounds dumb but breaking something sounds absolutely disgusting to me. In movies if they do like sound effects of bones breaking and I know it’s coming, I mute the sound.

summary: i was wondering if you could write a reddie x daughter where the losers club all go out and the daughter gets hurt (maybe breaks an arm) so they all freak out and take her to the hospital, and it’s just rlly cute at the end. i just feel like i could image richie and eddie just freaking out abt what to do and not actually doing anything so the rest of the losers have to step in

warnings: mentions of a broken arm and surgories (not graphic), mentions of throwing up (but also not graphic) and some curse words and your mom joke

At least once a month, all the losers have a reunion that usually either takes place in Ben and Bev’s lake house, or in their boat. The reason it does, is because Ben and Bev combined have enough money to restore any damages that may or may not occur during these times, more often than not Richie fault.

This time however, by some unlucky draw of the hat, everyone agrees to meet up in Richie and Eddie’s home, because their daughter Alexa isn’t feeling too great, and Richie not Eddie felt comfortable relocating with her for a few days.

She had nothing major, just a stomach bug that causes her to throw up from time to time, but Both Eddie and Richie were more than ready to postponed the losers’ meeting. Alexa insisted that all the plans continued on as normal despite her feeling unwell, since she loved spending time with her uncles and aunt any time she could, and when she showed signs of her health improving, nobody cancelled anything.

With the first knock on the door, Alexa jumps up, rushing to welcome whoever has made it to their house first, ignoring how her stomach was protesting the flash movement, and she’s greeted by the sight of her best-loved aunt, which happened to be Aunty Bev. Six months into the pregnancy made Bev look bloated and tired, but her eyes lit up as soon as Alexa opened the door, bending down as best as she could to hug her back twice as hard. She’s alone, Ben had had a meeting over in Portland, and agreed to meet Bev here.

‘How’s my favorite girl doing?’ Bev asks with a huge smile on her face, her hand resting on the top of her belly softly rubbing up and down.

‘I’m okay’, Alexa insists, even though her face still looks a little pale. Eddie, who had joined the two of them at the front door, rolled his eyes begrudgingly. Insisting that she’s fine even though she isn’t must be a trait she picked up from Richie.

Staying silent however, he brings Bev into an embrace, an; ‘hey Bev’ falling from his lips in the process.

‘Richie’s out back, come in, I’ll go get him.’ Before Eddie has the chance, the next guests arrive, in the form of Patty and Stan. Stan was holding a stuffed animal, a bunny in his hands, smirking as if he already knew that he was going to be the ‘chosen’ one today.

Eddie laughs out loud, watching as his daughter’s eyes grow bigger and wide, and she excitedly begins the bounce up and down, seemingly forgetting about the sickness for a little while. In his mind, Eddie is already praising Stan, for the few moments of rest this allows his daughter to have. Sleep is nothing something that has come in large doses to her in the last two days, every single waking minute of the day being consumed with sitting next to a toilet bowl, and brushing her teeth afterwards.

Eddie also praises Stan for basically knocking down the competition before the rest of them even have a chance.

At two years old, Alexa figured out how to play her family like the harp she later maintained she wanted to practice, giving up after only two lessons. She used to go around the room and beg her uncles and aunt to play a game with her, any kind, and when they relented, the first person who did would be her go to person for the rest of the evening.

Endearing everyone’s heart, but also resulting in a rivalry, where many presents were tossed around, and Alexa was in danger of becoming a bit spoiled. Now at twelve, she’s stopped crowning anyone as her winner, yet the losers still arranges bets on her, as if their daughter is something to bet on.

It’s all in good fun of course, and Richie himself joins in on the gamble from time to time, but for whatever reason he never guesses correctly, but Eddie has a burning suspicion it has something to do with manipulating Stan to lose. Not that his schemes work, Stan is much too smart for that.

In rapid succession, Ben follows Stan and Patty, and after him Mike emerges, and finally Bill and Audra appear from the end of the streets. A loud and ugly snort forces its way out of Eddie, when he sees the exact some bear clutched to Bill’s chests, the annoying, cocky smirk on his face he mirrored from Stan, the same one that vanishes as soon as he steps through the door, and lays his eyes upon Alexa, clasping Stan’s gift.

Richie, who had since joined the rest of the group, could not contain his laughter, finding in Bill the perfect victim to tease throughout the entire night.

Rice and chicken were on the menu tonight, a light meal that was decided in light of Alexa, but nobody complained. Despite popular belief, Richie was a very good cook, and when he prepared any meal, it was guaranteed that it would taste delicious.

Alexa ate a bit, more than she had eaten in the last few days, and Eddie sighed a breath of relief. Years of conditioning that any sickness was going to get him killed did not disappear off the bat, so he was immensely glad his daughter was starting to feel better, even if he knew her ailment was not that serious to begin with.

After dinner, the group resides to the living room, watching a movie that Alexa had her mind set on viewing, and secretive adult talk concealed in a child appropriate package so she wouldn’t notice, making a way across each other. A normal reunion like any other.

At nine pm, unsurprisingly, Alexa got up from her seat. ‘I’m going to bed dad,’ she explains, her hand stroking Bev’s baby bump one last time, and then waving at everyone. The spot next to Beverly, the one that Alexa had claimed, so she could discuss her new best friend as she lovingly called the new baby that was yet to be burn, remains achingly open. A weird feeling creeps up the back of Eddie’s neck, ridiculously.

The losers club just doesn’t seem complete without her, even if she has only been there for twelve years. Her bedtime was around eight, but when they go on a trip, she is allowed to stay up as long she want, the fact that she turns in for the night so early, is a testimony to how bad she suffers.

Richie started to make his way up from the sofa too, ready to tuck her in, as he did every night, but she shook her head. ‘I can go to bed alone, Pops, don’t worry.’

She gave him a kiss on his cheek, and then scampered off to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Bill chocked on his drink in laughter when he saw the fallen look on Richie’s face, disappointment coating his expressions in a grey attire.

When he dejectedly resumed his place next to Eddie, the latter patted him on the arm in sympathy. ‘It’s just because there are others here Rich. You know how ashamed she gets of you.’ The smirk cannot be contained when the words leave his mouth, even though he means nothing but lies with them.

‘And they say my jokes suck? Spaghetti, come up with new and innovated humor, like mine. Thank god she’s got some of my qualities-‘

‘she’s adopted.’

‘- don’t interrupt me Eds that’s just bad manners. I’m so sorry your mom was to busy teaching me the way around her body to teach you how to be polite but-‘

‘Beep beep asshole.’ A murmur of agreement rose up from the group, Richie flipping them the bird.

‘Whatever, you losers have no taste at all.’

Deciding to check up on her after about fifteen minutes, Eddie settles back in his seat, joining in on the conversation to his right, where Ben and Stan discuss the different plants they have in their garden, listing a bunch of flowers Eddie will never know the meaning off.

The movie clutters on in the background, almost like a lullaby, and Eddie yawns significantly. Richie’s hand presses in the small of his back, a grounding warm signal that he was safe, even though he doesn’t mean too, he zones out, not asleep, but also not as awake as he should be.

That happens to be a mistake when he hears something slam on the floor above them, the sound of the toilet being flushed a second after. He makes eye contact with Richie, both of them realizing that that is probably the result of Alexa throwing up again.

‘Dad, Pops’, and then a loud bang, proceeded by a few thuds that can be relocated to their stairs, and a pained yell.

Richie and Eddie scramble up faster than they have ever done before, even more hurried than when Pennywise was chasing them in Neibolt. Stan, Bill and Bev scurry alongside them, to the place of the accident, every single one of them in a panicked haze.

It only takes a second to get there, in their haste, and no other sounds emerge anymore, until They run into the hallway.

Alexa is spread out across the bottom of the stairs, her arm bend in a weird position, her legs propped up as she looks around the space dazedly, as if she’s not sure what just happened.

Her faces goes through a couple of emotions, intensifying when she takes a look at her arm, but not yet crying.

Eddie is the first to reach her, and when she sees him, her lips open slightly and a wail falls out. It proves to him that she is in real, and agonizing pain. Back when she learned how to ride her bike for the first time, she had fallen many times, as kids do, but if she cried, Eddie refused to indulge her. He wouldn’t let leave or abandon her, but he would tell her that everything was fine, and that it only stung a little, and there was no need to cry.

He mostly did this to stop himself from becoming like his mother, and to allow Alexa to discover her own boundaries and which one hurt enough to actually ask help for. He never shamed her for crying either, he just tried to teach her the difference between actual pain, and being shocked from a fall. Ever since, is she saw Eddie walk towards her, her tears stopped if it barely stung, or begin to cry if help was needed.

Now she sobs, heavy and with snot, hiccuping to catch her breaths. It only takes a look to tell Eddie everything he needs to know, she is suffering from an open fracture. The bone is not stuck outside the skin, but the bump is visible from the outside, in the same way that his bone was when he broke his arm.

All previous training flies out the window when it’s his daughter that is the one who is harmed, nothing of the medical terms he surrounded himself with in his childhood sticking, like liquid dropping from his head.

He stands there, blankly as he gazes upon his daughters still laying form, until he gets pushed back by Bill. Richie too stands frozen, trembling from head to toe, but Bev and Stan launch into action, dropping down next to Alexa, each on opposites sides.

‘What do we do, what do we do?’ Richie inquires frantically, pushing against Bills hands, to get to her, trusting Eddie for guidement. Eddie subconsciously reaches for his inhaler, and curses once he remembers that he threw his placebo away.

‘Fuck, fuck, Eddie should we snap the bone back in? It worked last time right?’ Richie reflects Eddie’s frantic, ignoring Bill’s pleas to calm down, the cries of Alexa deafening their ears, and making their heartstrings cave in.

‘What? What the fuck asshole no. That was a terrible thing to do, and you were lucky that my arm got back to normal, are you fucking kidding me you absolute moron?’

He doesn’t mean to snap at his husband the way he does, but the mantra of; this is your fault, she’s going to die, get her to a hospital now, more careful, you should force her to be more safe, in a voice that sounds an awful lot likes his mother hisses in his mind. The panic is very nearly all consuming.

‘What the fuck was I supposed to do then huh Eds? I was fucking twelve.’ Their panic-stricken words grow louder and louder, until even Alexa’s cries of agony sound quieter than theirs, they’re so consumed with worry, being oblivious to notice what Beverly and Stan are so desperately trying to convey.

‘I don’t know, not that. And you’re 43 years old, by now you should now better dickwad.’

‘Stop it’, Bill yells in the same determined leader voice that lured them into the house on Neibolt street, effectively silencing them and focusing their attention on him.

‘Your daughter needs you right now, so shut up, and do what we ask you too okay. Richie get her cloths, Eddie retrieve anything she has that helps calm her down. Alright? Okay go.’

Richie hurries to get the car as fast he can, but Eddie hesitates when he gapes at Alexa. He doesn’t want to leave her without her parents. ‘Hey’, Bill places on of his hands on Eddie shoulder, ‘we’ll take care of her for a minute okay?’

Her cries have turned into loud whimpers, her face hidden behind Stan’s body, which stops her from seeing Eddie anyway. Bev is calmly shushing her, on the phone with what must be the hospital, carefully checking her arm. Stan is trying to distract her, his cardigan being discarded towards Bev, who uses is to carefully cover the injured arm.

It looks painful, and Eddie can’t stand to think of her in pain, so he too complies with Bill’s demands, searching for the plush toy she got as a gift, and her soft blanket that she sleeps with during the winter.

When he comes back, he hears the blaring sirens of the ambulance stop outside their door, and his stomach falls when he realizes that a few hours ago, Alexa was standing in that exact spot, excited for the night.

Audra and Patty lead the paramedics into the home, apparently they had been waiting outside to help, Patty grabbing Eddie’s arm to steady herself, and maybe even Eddie, who is swaying dangerously from side to side.

He’s been through all of this before, in a way, but that seemed somehow less scary than it is now. Back then, Eddie had been glad none of his friends got hurt, so it didn’t matter that he did. Now, it’s different, but if he could somehow switch places with Alexa, he would do so in a heartbeat.

They insert an IV line and administer pain relief, Eddie assumes, since his ears seem like they’ve been stuffed full of cotton. He vaguely registers Richie’s hand in his own, all his attention pointed to watching Alexa’s face for any discomfort.

She’s placed upon a trauma board, Stan and Ben aiding to help her jolts as minimal as possible, before they carry her to the ambulance as fast as humanly possible. Eddie hopes to god, something he hasn’t believed in since he started dating Richie, that the medicine she has received knock her out, just so she’s painless the rest of the ride.

‘Dad, pops’, she wails, extending her uninjured arm to reach for the both of them. Next to him, Richie cries too.

Eddie speed walks to be by her side, grabbing her hand and pressing a kiss to it. ‘It’s okay, sweetheart, you’re going to be fine.’ He can’t help the way his voice cracks as he tries to keep his own tears at bay.

Richie also hast himself to get to her, brushing away her tears as best he can, but new ones continue to leave wet rivers on her cheeks.

After consideration, Eddie says to Richie; ‘You need to go with her,’ his words lacking any really conviction.

Richie gazes up to him in surprise. ‘Eddie?’

‘I can’t be in there, in a hospital or ambulance, but I would feel so much better if you were with her.’ The trauma lingers around Eddie like a bad stench, and he hates himself for the fact that he can’t be with his daughter. He knows Richie will keep her safe though, so if he were to go with her, maybe the grip guilt has on him will loosen.

Richie says nothing and stares for just a split second, before one of the EMT’s says they need to hurry. Then he nods, climbing on board with Alexa, but pressing his lips against Eddie’s quickly before his does.

He’s trying to convey Eddie into believing everything will be okay, but Richie isn’t sure if he believes it himself.

They have to leave then, and Eddie stares as the ambulance disappears into the distance. When he can’t see it no longer, he allows himself five seconds, and he uses those five seconds to cry upon Mike’s sturdy statues the waterfalls flowing from his eyes like they’re a rives. He can sense the others coming closer, each laying a hand on a part of his body, their silent way of telling him they’re here for them.

He feels bad for making Richie having to be the one to hold it all together, since he can’t break down in front of Alexa, but Eddie honestly didn’t have any resolution left to sit in an ambulance.

When his five seconds are up, he begs someone to drive him to the hospital, ignoring his next door neighbor who comes to check up on the commotion that was happening.

He ends up driving with Stan and Patty, in the middle backseat, where he can feel their worried gazes on him. In his mind, he is trying to recall any information about what he had to go through with his arm, but all he really remembers is that he had to have surgery.

As predicted, that is the first thing Richie tells Eddie when he finally gets to the emergency room, Richie waiting near the entrance, his hands trembling when he reaches forward to pull Eddie against him in a tight hug.

‘She needs to have surgery Eds, you have to come quick. They’re about to put her under.’ Richie informs him when he pulls back, this time reaching for his hands and pulling him in the direction of the room Alexa is in. Eddie wants to say something to his friends, but he’s already whisked away, and he just figures he’ll tell them later.

Upon entering the room, Eddie can smell the disinfected in the room, the whole room is drenched in it, but he refuses to let it deter him, so he pulls through, pulling a chair to the side of the hospital bed, resting his hand on Alexa’s shoulder. Richie goes for her hand on her good arm, his thumb sweeping the back of her hand back and forth.

‘hey, honey, how are you?’

Alexa lets her head fall sideways, her eyes dropped with exhaustion, she hasn’t received any anesthetic, so Eddie assumes that it’s the adrenaline that has worked off.

‘I’m scared dad,’ she tells him truthfully, squeezing Richie’s hand tight while not looking him in the eyes.

‘It’s okay to be scared baby,’ Eddie soothes her, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. ‘I had to same thing happen to me when I was little.’

Her lips tug upwards in a faint smile. ‘I know, pops told me.’

‘It wasn’t that scary anymore. Not when getting into the hospital. I just fell right asleep, and when I woke up, the pain was dulled.’

‘I’m not in so much pain right now though, can I not avoid the surgery?’ Eddie’s heart breaks once again, and he wishes so bad he could heed his daughter from this, but it has to happen, there’s no other option.

‘That’s cause you’re on a lot op pain medication kiddo, but as soon as they’re worn off, you’ll feel it again.’ Richie heavily admits, the lines on his face have turned more prominent, the night taking ten years of their lives away from them.

‘Like I said, you’ll just go to sleep, and when you wake up, we’ll be here.’ Eddie tries to convince her one last time, and with a heaved sigh, she relents.

Just in time, for the nurse sticks her head through the door, her smile apologetic.

‘Alexa Tozier-Kaspbrak? I’m sorry, but we really have to get her upstairs now.

‘You’ll be fine bucko, We won’t be fare okay?’

‘And remember we love you okay?’

‘I know dad, Pops, I love you too.’

When they wheel Alexa away in her hospital bag, the other losers wave at her from behind the glass door, sticking their thumbs up in good luck, while Alexa waves at them as best she can.

‘She’ll be okay’, Richie insists as he pulls Eddie close to him by the waist, pressing his nose in his hair to comfort himself.

‘I really hope so Rich, I’m scared.’

‘Don’t be Eds, she’s your kid, she’s so strong, this is just a minor setback. I love okay, we’ll get through this together.’

‘I love you too.’

Later, when Alexa is back in her room, falling asleep on her own this time, and Eddie watches Richie’s lanky from twist in half to rest his head on the bed, the rest of his body in an uncomfortable hospital chair just to be close to their daughter, he thanks whoever is listening that he got this family; He would never trade them for anything in the world.

He’s mumbling to the both of them, a stupid story about Richie and his childhood, because Alexa had once told him she slept best with some background noise. Twirling the same piece of hair over and over again, he presses another kiss to her head, thankful that’s okay.

He nearly thinks of his mother, and how much he would have loved to see her face if she ever saw him like this. Gay, married, with a child and in a hospital. But then he banishes her to the back of his mind. She is not worth any ounce of his thoughts.

Alexa shifts in her sleep, relaxing into the movements, and Eddie can’t do anything but mumble out in pure adoration; ‘I promise, I’ll never be like my mom, I love you and your pops too much for that.’

#reddie #reddie fluff #reddie with daughter #eddie with daughter #Richie with daughter #richie x daughter #reddie x daughter #My writing #it chapter two imagine #the loser club imagines

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iveryafterdark · 3 years

Text

Day 119

Part 10, Maybe Gods should leave hunting to the mortals in the future. [Medium]

Last Part. Next Part.

Bear was something of Time's personal shadow since he had arrived, seems he hadn't been joking about going with him wherever he went. Normally, being watched and followed so closely would aggravate the dark man, after all, he was a God not a child who needed to be protected from itself, but Bear managed to mind his own business and provide good enough company to not bother Time with his consistent presence. It had been a fair few weeks since the charming werewolf had joined them and he seemed to be capable of getting along with everyone else just fine... the exclusion of Surie who had a distaste for anyone who referenced his god-hood too often.

Today, he had been talked into another hunt with Vaitelin... featuring the elusive Relis as well who seemed eager to prove himself the superior out of the two of them.

"I am just saying, if Bear moved up the path and sat in ambush we could take this buck down in record time." Relis and Vaitelin were having some disagreements on the exact plan they should use and, considering that Time was no hunter, he was content to let the two bicker like hens over the course they took.

"I'm not leaving Time back here with you for something so minor as a short hunt, Relis, try something else." Bear cut into the conversation, causing the golden-haired man to cast a quick glare his way which was only responded to with a bold smile.

"I never agreed to help you hunt, anyway, so don't look so sour." Vaitelin coughed, badly trying to hide a laugh, in response to Bear's snark. An attempt was made to suppress the grin on his face but it was a really bad one.

"Fine, we could do things your way but if we lose this catch do not forget that I disagreed with it." Relis seemed eager to be done with this, Time couldn't help but agree with the sentiment.

"Okay, so, what do you need me to do?" all eyes turned to Vaitelin at Time's question.

"You two spook the buck into the direction of the Rockies, chase him but keep 'em at a distance, I'll handle the rest."

"You sound awfully cocky, Viaite." the dishonest werewolf said in a near-growl, managing to butcher the other's name in the same way as Astaira had, leaving Time to wonder just how much of that argument Relis had been privy to before he joined.

"I wouldn' say 'cocky', I'd say... confident. Assured. I know what I'm doin'." Relis rolled his eyes at the assertion and the self-confident look on the hunter's face.

"Whatever, we should get moving."

Ouch, while it was difficult to kill a God it was still lucky that Bear was so quick to drag him out of the way. Bucks are more aggressive than does and when Vaitelin's plan didn't work out right the deer had decided enough was enough. While Time wasn't sure it would have actually killed him, he still was thankful that he hadn't ended up being gored by the angry thing.... though the scars probably would have looked neat by the end.

"That was the most reckless attempt at a hunt I've ever seen! What kind of plan was that supposed to be? The one where you get someone killed?" and Bear was not happy. Anger sounded weird on him, he was normally very relaxed and easy-going.

"'Ay now, yeah the plan did kind of... fall apart at the end there but no one got hurt! Sometimes you just got to think on your feet! The prey isn't always gonna respond how you think it will." Vaitelin responded in self-defense. Time hadn't bothered getting up from his place on the ground, yet, catching his breath after the long, draw out, chase and subsequent whiplash of being thrown by someone aptly named Bear. The painted wolf was half-bristled, having something of an aggressive stare-down with the hunter several feet away. Bear had nearly jumped the other, generally, friendly wolf when he had first reacted. Thankfully, Relis had jumped into the middle just in time to prevent blood being spilled but Bear still seemed eager to verbally tear the sandy-colored werewolf apart.... speaking of Relis, where had he ended up?

A sharp pang to his right quickly alerted him to Relis, who had been kneeling next to him for who knows how long, which he had somehow overlooked during the commotion between Bear and Vaitelin. The shock between both sudden pain and contact made Time draw away with an aggravated hiss.

"I am just checking to see if you broke anything when Bear threw you, even Gods can get fractured ribs." strange, Time couldn't help the distrust that gripped his lungs as he stared at Relis, he was certainly not the concerned or caring type so why would it matter to him even if he had cracked something? Apparently, the scowl he was giving wasn't enough to dissuade the golden-haired man.

"Please hold still, this should only take a minute." before he could even muster a disagreeable reply Relis had already moved a bit closer and prodded him in the side. Something that felt like it had just jabbed him in both the lung and the brain at the same time. Time hadn't been well acquainted with pain so, maybe, he had a poor tolerance for it but he could swear he could see stars. An undignified wheeze escaped him as a small amount of pressure was exerted to the curve of his mid ribcage. Yup, broken. Relis tsked, though if it was at his reaction or the situation he couldn't really say... not that he had much brainpower to think on it with how the world was spinning.

"Hey! Idiots!" Relis could be surprisingly loud and viper-like when he wanted to be. Time hadn't even noticed that Bear and Vaitelin were still arguing in the background, but he was well aware of its absence as the two fell silent at the interruption.

"Come here." a command. Time carefully removed Relis's hand from his side now, the seething that the blond was doing making him rather concerned that, if provoked, he'd end up causing more harm to his already broken ribs.

"'Ay, what's the glarin' for?" Vaitelin's voice was closer now, Time shifted so he could look at the group. At least the bickering between them hadn't led to anything worse than some harsh words. To call Relis's look 'glaring' was a little on the light side, though, if mortals could kill with a look the hunter would be quite dead. The blond outlaw nearly jumped to his feet, bristling.

"Take a wild guess, Viaite, want to ask Time why I am so mad?" the sandy-haired man turned his gaze to Time now, a confused look on his face, but Relis hadn't been being literal.

"You said 'no one got hurt', right? That's what you said. But you did not even bother to check, did you? So, why not come down here and check to see what the problem could possibly be." Vaitelin opened his mouth to respond but the second he did Relis just went back to talking. "No, really, come down here. Feel just how broken Time's rib is and tell me again about how no one got hurt." a very odd thing for Relis to be defending him, really drove in the point that he had made earlier though.

"I said that if something happened it would be your fault, and this-" he gestured sharply at Time causing the young-god to flinch, his subconscious still labeling Relis as a threat despite his mortality. "- this is your fault. You should have allowed us to back off the target when the plan went astray, not pushed us to try to take it down at such an obvious disadvantage. You are the reason one of your fellow hunters is hurt and you do not even have the decency to ask." hopefully, Relis was done with his tirade now. The mix of his volume, sheer seething rage, and also the amount he had said left the lanky wolf sounding like he had just finished another hunt by himself.

"I.... he's a God, right?... I didn't know they could get hurt." a weak response that caused an ugly, short, laugh from the outlaw as he closed the distance between him and Vaitelin. While Vaitelin was a fair-sized man, Relis was much taller than him and his lankiness just added to how.... overwhelming he often felt. Time didn't envy the hunter with the current situation he was in.

"I'm sorry, I broke your ribs when I grabbed you, didn't I?" Bear asked, a suitably guilty look on his face.

"Don't worry so much, I'm a God not a doll, I just got really unlucky with a vengeful rock on the way down." an attempt at a joke, but he didn't look convinced... it would have to do, though, too much talking was painful. Returning his attention to Vaitelin and Relis, he was glad that the two's conversation seemed to have worked itself out without him needing to intervene. Relis looked a bit calmer, more self-satisfied than anything, and any defensiveness that Vaitelin had once presented seemed gone for the moment. Good, maybe they could get back to camp without any further problems. Time carefully got to his feet, trying to ignore the screaming in his side.

"Bad hunts happen, we still have food, we should return to camp before any more bad luck decides to find us." the rest of the group seemed to agree. Now... how was he going to explain this to everyone back at camp.

#wolvden

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