#Here Comes The SUn starts playing in neils head

[weird-an]

It had been Steve's idea. 31 hours on the road. Billy had been driving like a maniac. Only three stops at ratty motels. Now they are there.

Billy has been so cold since the Mind Flayer. Now he feels warmer, the sinking sun still stroking his skin, chasing away the iciness the shadow left behind.

He's here. He's home. Toes in the sand and listening to the waves, Steve leaning against him.

"You wanna go for some pizza?" Steve plays with a strand of Billy's hair, scratching his head and tugging it a little.

Billy hums. He feels so... calm. He doesn't want to go back. He knows he has to, because Neil needs him around for a while and he can't afford to stay away longer than a week. But this week? A week in San Diego, fucking paradise.

They sit down at a corner table, Billy is stretching his limbs and jawns.

Steve snorts. "You're like a cat sometimes."

"'m not," Billy says, staring at the little menu in front of him.

"You are. You sit on furniture, your hair is everywhere, you purr.."

"I'm not a cat." Billy hits him with the menu. Not hard.

Steve snickers. "Totally."

A voice from a past he can't forget suddenly starts to speak. "Welcome! We make everything fresh here at Surfer Boy, except for our pineapple, which comes from a can, but I still recommend slapping some juicy- Billy?"

Billy looks up. Argyle stares back at him. The same Argyle he kept running around with years ago, before Neil felt social services and too many debtors breathing down his neck and brought Billy to the dump that calls itself Hawkins. To the monster that took everything from Billy - his body, his mind - and nearly his life.

"Argyle?" Billy clutches the menu in his hand and suddenly there are strong warm arms around him, dragging him up and he's hugged so hard he can't breathe, getting lift up a little - because Argyle had always been taller and used it to his advantage.

Argyle lets go and grins at him. "I didn't know you were back."

"It's.. just a trip." Billy rubs the scar on his chest. He regrets wearing only a crop top. Argyle has to notice the scars on his body.

"It was my idea. After Billy's... accident." Steve stands up.

"I'm Steve." He says with a big plastic smile on his lips and oh fuck. He's fucking jealous. Billy never thought that Steve would be jealous. Something inside Billy purrs at that.

Argyle looks back and forth between Steve and Billy. He stretches his hand out for Steve to shake.

"Nice to meet ya, dude." Argyle gives Billy a goofy grin. "I'll get you guys the finest pizza in California!“

Steve watches him leave to get their order. "His hair is pretty."

Billy presses his knee against Steve's. "I know. But you're my…" He swallows against the panic in his stomach. He can't say it. He's always so scared that someone hears.

Steve puts his hand on Billy's knees, gently squeezing it.

"You're mine, too," he says. Billy feels lighter.

Argyle brings them their pizzas and a giant cake in the colors of a rainbow.

"Confetti cake is on the house," he explains. "Not every time you meet a friend that got lost."

Steve stares at him again. But this time more fascinated than jealous. "What are you doing after work?"

Billy blinks in surprise.

Argyle laughs and points at the joint behind his ear. "Sharing a smoke with an old friend and a new one?"

Billy feels so warm like he has never been cold before.

@harringroveweek

[marvelobsessed134]

One with Vince where him and reader are on their honeymoon and it turns into smut

Our honeymoon

Pairings: Vince Neil x Fem!reader

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, dom!vince, sub!reader, not much foreplay (if that bothers you idk lmao), some degradation, choking

Summary: You’re on your honeymoon with your new husband.

“Go back to sleep, Y/n.” Vince groaned as he bent the pillow so it covered his ear. “But I want to watch the sunrise baby.” You responded, shaking his shoulder lightly again.

“Watch it yourself.” He said and you frowned.

“But I wanna do it with you, Vinnie. Please, my lovely husband?” You pleaded and smiled when you heard an annoyed sigh.

“Ok, but you owe me once we get back.” And you nodded before excitedly getting out of bed. The two of you walked out in the wooden deck that was suspended over the water.

The two of you sat down and you leaned your head on his shoulder, as you watched the sky turn a gorgeous golden orange as the sun came up. Vince was glad he chose to come out here with you, the sunset was one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen. Besides you, of course.

Afterwards you yawned a bit before standing up and stretching. Vince immediately scooped you up and carried you back into the room.

“Vinnie!” You giggled as he laid you onto the bed, taking his shirt off afterwards.

The blonde smiled, “What honey?”

“You’re so lucky I love you.” You said before pulling him down and kissing him passionately. You moaned into his mouth and when he pulled up your tank top to play with your now exposed breasts.

“Oh Vince.” You moaned breathily. The singer just smirked against you as he kissed down your stomach before reaching the waistband of your pajama pants.

Slowly pulling them and your panties down he kissed the inside of your thighs before licking a bold stripe against your wet pussy.

“Oh yes!” You moaned, arms resting above your head as you arched your back, as he ate you out.

“You taste so fucking sweet baby.” He groaned, licking inside your folds.

Once his tongue started working on your clit you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. “Vince, I’m gonna cum!” You cried out.

“Go on, baby. Cum for me.” Vince commanded and you squirted your juices all over his face. He licked all of it up, “Taste even sweeter when you cum.”

He stood up and pulled down his basketball shorts before lining his large, hard cock to your entrance before pushing in. The two of you moaning at the feeling. He started to thrust into you, hard and fast.

“Oh god.” Was all you could muster out.

“Fuck you’re still so tight.” Your husband moaned. He wrapped his hand around your neck squeezing both sides. “Look at you, taking my cock like the good slut you are. Isn’t that right, babe? You’re my good little slut?”

You nodded and squeezed your cheeks, hovering over you as he continued to fuck you. “Say it, cmon I know you can do it, say ‘I’m a good little slut’”

“I-I’m a good little slut.” You screamed as he pounded into you, feeling him hit your g spot everytime.

“I’m gonna cum and you’re gonna take all of it because like you said, you’re a good little slut.” You nodded as your gripped his wrists, clenching around him before you came causing him to go over the edge.

“Fuuuuck!” Vince moaned loudly as he shot his load inside of you. He pulled out and flopped on the bed next to you, giving you a sweet kiss on the lips.

“I love you, Y/n.”

“Mm, I love you too Vince.”

[the-oncoming-nightingale]

A few days ago I watched "Einstein and Eddington", in the midst of my Tennaissance. I'm glad I discovered this film, it's really beautiful and definitely my kind.

Well, first of all I jokingly asked myself if David will ever play a non-queer charachter (actually I've already seen Broadchurch), even though I love him also for that ♡

But most importantly, I've started doing some research about sir Arthur Eddington. I did rember coming across his name during the astronomy course, but I realized that he is not as famous as he sould be, considering the discoveries he made. Thanks to his studies he helped confirm the theory of relativity, to name one.

And then I found a poem written in his memory, so touching and beautiful. I searched the author and...it's been written by Neil Gaiman! I leave here the text. There are actually two of them, the second one about his personal life and the rumors according to which he had a relationship with another man (I say rumors because I couldn't find evidences, even though their social and religious context would have make it difficult even talk about the situation, maybe hence the lack of proof):

IN TRANSIT (for Arthur Eddington) by Neil Gaiman

1.

To find the many in the one he sweated under foreign skies to see the stars behind the sun.

So space and time were now undone reality was undisguised. We found the many in the one.

There is no photograph, not one, that shows the mind behind the eyes. He saw the stars behind the sun.

Not with a sword, or knife, or gun, a simple picture severed ties. He found the many in the one.

Light bends around us. So we run, as gravity reclassifies the stars we saw behind the sun.

To see the world beyond the skies, to know the mind behind the eyes, To find the many in the one he showed us stars behind the sun.

2.

Unfucked, or anyway retiring, in the awkward sense. Retirement will never be an option. The gruff gentleman with the cap who understands what the numbers mean remembers a bicycle ride when he was younger.

The smoke of the cigarettes he does not smoke kicks at his lungs mixing with the buzz of the booze he doesn’t ever drink a convivial pint after the ride into the country gave him such a thirst. And afterwards they lay on their back in the stubble staring up at the stars. Together. All the stars

Countable as the words in a Bible, countable as the hairs on his friend’s head, all accountable, and that is why they never truly touched. The shadow of prison or disgrace perhaps moving between them like the shadow of an eclipse.

And, in another life, at another time, to see the stars behind the sun, he takes his photographs fighting the cloud cover. Becoming the thing that happened in Principe. when he proved that the German was right, that light had weight, half a year after the Armistice. A populariser, but not courting popularity.

Somewhen a boy is counting stars. Somewhen a man is photographing light. Somewhen his finger strokes the stubble on another’s cheek, and for a moment everything is relative.

You can also find a clip of him reading the poem:

[medusapelagia]

Sorrow

I just came back from the cemetery, which is a thing that makes me very emotional so… here it is a VERY SAD and VERY UNHAPPY little Harringrove ficlet. Did I stress enough that it's sad? WT: grief, sorrow, Major Character Death, unhappy ending

Sorrow is like a stain on your Sunday dress. You try to hide it, but you are conscious that at the first wrong movement, it will show and everyone will know that you are stained, permanently. That’s how Steve feels every time he sees Max. “Are you coming?” she asks, drinking her milkshake “Everyone else will come. Even my mum.” They have this little tradition: on the fourth of July, when everyone else is celebrating, they go to the cemetery and sit in front of Billy’s tombstone. Steve has never attended this little sad get-together. The last time he visited Billy’s tomb it was on the day of his funeral, when Neil Hargrove spat at his feet telling him that he was persona non grata. He is not even sad about that because, for the first time, Steve saw a new kind of emotion on Neil’s face: under the rage, there was grief, maybe even despair. “Billy would have liked that.” Max continues. That’s another thing that Steve can’t actually do: think about Billy in the past tense. Every time he hears something like that another crack opens in his soul. Steve doesn’t even know what Max is referring to, but the sentence is enough to reopen the unhealed wound. “I’ll drive you if you need it.” That’s all he can promise. Max shakes her head, she has cut her hair short, like Robin’s “No, it’s fine. Mum will drive me.”

***

Christmas is the period of the year when Steve misses Billy the most. He still turns to make some comment about the worst decorated houses, but Billy is not here with him, mocking his rich neighbors. He is not asking him every single day what he wants as a Christmas present and he is not responding to Steve that he is the best Christmas present he could ever ask for. He is not even planning on renting a red Santa Claus suit to use during a stupid sexual role-play. Steve’s house is big and cold and he misses his California’s sun every single day.

***

People say that you have to face your fears, but they say nothing about your sorrows. Many years have passed since that awful day in which half of the citizens of Hawkins died, and still, Steve has not come to visit Billy’s tomb. He doesn’t even know if it’s still there. Neil Hargrove left town soon after the funeral and Steve is not sure if Susan took care of it in the past years. Maybe he should have asked Max, but now it’s too late. He enters the cemetery. They are so different from the ones where his grandparents lie, in Italy. There, the cemeteries look more like museums. There are statues of crying angels and little chapels with the family name. Here, every tombstone looks like the other and he doesn’t even know if he will be able to find Billy’s without guidance. It’s a stupid idea, he should go back where he came from, forgetting for another couple of years that Billy is not living his best life somewhere exotic but is lying in the cold ground, killed by a monster, cut down in his prime. Still. There is something that it’s calling him. Something he tried to ignore for years and that know feels inevitable. It all started with a little model of a blue car, the same car that burns in his pocket. A little Camaro with the very same blue shade as Billy’s. “He would have liked it.” Max told him when she had seen it, and Steve bought it, on impulse, and he has tortured himself for weeks since that moment, looking every day at the little model in his drawer until he finally decided to come. He turns to the right and there it is, Billy’s grave. There is some moss on the northern side of the tombstone, but it’s exactly as he remembered it. He sits down with his back against the cold marble. “Hi, Billy.” he says “I’m sorry if I didn’t come before to visit. I… I didn’t know how to say goodbye. I was never good at this kind of thing, you know that.” Steve has a lump in his throat “I… I brought you something.” he continues, taking the little car from his pocket “It’s just like yours. Max said… she said…” He tries and tries but words will not come out. His sorrow, his stain, is showing and he can’t hide it anymore behind a fake smile. “I miss you. I miss you every single day, and I’m so so sorry if I didn’t come before or if I tried my best not to think about you. It’s not… It’s not that I don’t care about you anymore. It’s that I care too much.” He wipes his eyes and gets up. “Happy birthday Billy,” he whispers. His shoulders are still heavy and his sorrow is still hunting him, but at least, here, where no one is looking, he can cry.

[turquoisepolo]

Take My Hand (And Never Let Go)

Based off of this post.

Summary: Three times Neil reached for a weapon, and one time he reached for Andrew.

Rating: PG-13 (Just for the fact that it's AFTG)

Warnings: None(?)

One.

The first time that Andrew noticed Neil’s habit was in the cabin during spring break. Of course, Andrew had picked up on Neil’s odd tendencies when being removed from a vulnerable state (sleep), however it was hard to learn the other’s sleeping habits when Neil tended to wake up at ungodly hours.

He’d gone to sleep content, for the first time in months. Neil was here, safe. Right next to him and nobody would ever change that fact again. Not the fucking mafia, and certainly not the FBI. Andrew fell asleep to red curls and a peacefully beautiful face. 

It wasn’t morning time when he awoke, the sun wasn’t sneaking through the blinds and Neil wasn’t the first awake. Andrew woke to pounding on the door, and his own disturbance was soon followed by Neil’s. Neil. Neil, whose first reaction was to reach under his pillow, no doubt expected a gun, only to find Andrew’s arm in a weapon’s place. Andrew watched Neil curiously through half lidded eyes, watched as Neil came back to him and away from whatever haunting memories had plagued him. Realization settled in those striking blue eyes, and Andrew would have been content to keep on watching but the knocking hadn’t ceased.

“Come in,” He yelled, hoping that the person on the other side of the door could taste the spite from his voice alone. 

Suddenly pastel hair came into focus, and Andrew was up. 

Two.

Nights spent in Columbia resulted in mornings with slow starts and lazy touches. Andrew was the first to wake, not as uncommon anymore considering Neil always seemed to sleep a little deeper when in Andrew’s arms (a fact that decidedly did not send a pang through his chest). 

Sunlight filtered through open blinds, and Andrew took in the scene before him. Of course he would never forget how Neil looked with a halo of fire around his head and his long eyelashes fanning his cheeks, but regardless Andrew drank in the sight like a dying man. 

Minutes, or maybe days, passed and he watched as Neil’s eyes fluttered open, confusing clouding those blue eyes before panic seized him. The redhead’s hand shot under his pillow, and like every time before, Neil was met with Andrew’s firm arm underneath. 

Andrew waited, patiently as always, waiting for his junkie to find his way home. It didn’t take as long as it would have just a few months prior. Neil met Andrew’s gaze, and suddenly his face softened, mouth curling into a lazy and perhaps unintentional smile. 

His lips tugged into a frown. “187%,” Andrew decided, and Neil flopped back down into the bed with a laugh. 

The rest of the morning was spent memorizing every curve and edge of Neil’s body until he let go.

Three.

Coming home was the only thing Andrew looked forward to during holidays (that and Neil’s slutty brownies, but that was an add on to coming home). 

Technically speaking, Andrew had his own apartment, more conveniently located near his Exy team’s court. An unfortunate consequence of playing on opposing teams was that Andrew and Neil often spent time on opposite sides of the country. 

However, the impossibly neat apartment with a barely used kitchen wasn’t where Andrew’s home was. Home was unlocking the modest apartment and seeing the wreck that was Neil. A jacket thrown precariously over the couch, a cat sitting on top while the other greeted him at the door. and after his sessions with Bee he could finally admit that. Maybe not out loud, but certainly to himself.

Usually, King or Sir would be followed quickly by Neil himself, however not tonight. Thankfully, not tonight. It was far past midnight, and instead of encouraging his children’s screams, Andrew nudged and shushed them as he carefully toed off his shoes and hung up his coat. 

Making his way to their shared bedroom was muscle memory, even in the dark it was effortless. 

The room was dark, however Andrew could make out Neil’s curled up form on the left side of the mattress. Andrew debated going through the effort of brushing his teeth and decided against it. Careful not to make too much noise, Andrew opened their dresser and found a shirt that could only be his (black, too stretched out on the shoulders to be Neil’s) and sweatpants that were probably Neil’s (“#10”). 

He made the mistake of lying down immediately instead of easing his weight onto the mattress.

The light flashed on in time for Andrew to see Neil reaching for a gun and not finding anything. Neil looked up in fear before relaxing as blue eyes met hazel. His breathing didn’t slow and Andrew wrapped his hand around the back of Neil’s neck, pushing his head between his legs. “Breathe,” Andrew said, like it was all so simple. 

And it was, eventually. It took no longer than a minute for Neil to relax thankfully, and Andrew let go. 

Neil turned to see Andrew, hand reaching out for Andrew’s own. “Yes or no?”

Andrew thought about it, before taking Neil’s hand in his own. “Just this.” Neil seemed content with that answer and settled back into bed. Andrew took the liberty of leaning over and turning off the light. 

He stayed awake, listening to Neil’s breathing. It had been about two months since he had last had the other so close to him, and even after five years of this, Andrew would never figure out how he got to keep this.

When Neil’s breaths matched his own, it didn’t take Andrew long to fall asleep peacefully. 

Plus One.

January 19th. Every year for ten years consistently, it had been a difficult date. For Neil, but also for Andrew. Seeing Neil in pain hadn’t gotten easier over the decade, in fact it seemed to be worse, especially with a ring adorning his finger. Especially when Andrew couldn’t kill the people who had hurt Neil, considering they were already dead.

Andrew woke up early, not from nightmares but from King deciding that sleeping at the foot of the bed wasn’t enough and that he just had to lay down above Andrew’s head. Usually, he would have moved the cat away, but Andrew didn’t want to risk waking Neil just yet. No, he took in the view of his husband sleeping soundly before him, a marvel that never had and never will lose its appeal. 

It didn’t take long for Neil to wake up, to Andrew’s slight disappointment. Unlike other times, however, Neil didn’t didn’t immediately reach for a weapon. 

No, he didn’t. He reached an arm out blindly, muttering a soft and drowsy “Drew”, before finding Andrew’s hand and squeezing it tightly. With it, his heart.

Andrew froze. A rush of emotion passed through him, lingering painfully around his chest, refusing to dissipate. “Neil, yes or no?”

Neil opened one eye, before nodding. “Yes.”

Andrew didn’t hesitate to gather Neil in his arms, resting his chin on top of Neil’s head and pressing a gentle kiss against the other’s head. He held Neil tight, and by God he would never let go.

[loudgibbon]

Aldrin

during the historic moon landing, Buzz Aldrin reportedly said, "There's a monolith on the moon of Mars, and there's a very unusual structure on this little potato-shaped object that goes around Mars once in seven hours. When people find out about that, they're going to say, 'Who put that there? Who put that there?' Well, the universe put it there, or if you choose, God put it there." These claims were quickly dismissed as Aldrin speaking metaphorically, or that the light had been playing tricks on his eyes, but what if he actually did see something up there, something not quite human.

July 17, 1969, 13:32 UTC

It's been a little over a day since we launched; it doesn't feel like it's been that long. I thought I knew what space looked like, but the pictures back home don't do it justice. It is somehow bigger than I expected. Also, the sun is white up here, not yellow for those interested, and it's really bright. Mission control says we will land in just over three days and six hours. I hope Michael brought his cards. :)

July 17, 1969, 17:09 UTC

Earth is really small from where I'm sitting. It's weird feeling so small, like ants sitting on a leaf in the middle of the ocean. We build our ant hills and go about our day-to-day lives thinking we are in control, but we can't tell the ocean what to do. We are completely at its mercy. All it would take is one wave, and humanity would just be a memory. Maybe not even that if there isn't anyone around to remember.

July 17, 1969, 20:25 UTC

Turns out it only takes about three and a half hours to get bored of pondering the nature of the universe. Michael did, in fact, bring his cards, so I have been playing solitaire and crazy eights for a bit. But it is surprisingly hard when the cards try to float away. Neil is still glued to the window. Try as we might, he won't come play with us. He just talks about how this is the opportunity of a lifetime and how he isn't going to miss a minute, which is fair, I guess. I just hope he does it quietly so I can try to get some shut-eye.

July 18, 1969, 03:15 UTC

I'm writing this time in hopes of calming my nerves so I'm able to get back to sleep. About thirty minutes ago, we started getting alerts from mission control about the Apollo's trajectory slipping off course, which is weird in and of itself because I adjusted it before I went to sleep, and it shouldn't have needed adjusting for another six hours. But the weirdest thing was Neil was still awake, staring out that window with a look on his face like he had a full Thanksgiving feast laid out in front of him. I swear he was even drooling, although he will probably deny it. While I adjusted our course, Michael tried to talk some sense into our "fearless leader," but when I finished, Michael still hadn't been able to get Neil to do so much as peel his fat head off the window. I tried giving him a few good shakes, and that seemed to do the trick. I asked him what was wrong, but it turns out he had just fallen asleep with his eyes open. Creepy if you ask me. He told us not to report what had happened after Michael said it would make for a funny story back home. Neil said he thought mission control might make us turn around if they thought something was wrong. It took a little convincing, but me and Michael finally did agree. I know it's not protocol or even the right thing to do, but damn it, I really want to put the Aldrin name in the history books. Anyway, Neil has decided to go to sleep, and Michael volunteered to keep watch over our course just in case anything weird happens again. I'll try to get Neil to open up more in the morning, just to make sure he really is all right.

July 19, 1969, 12:04 UTC

We are a little more than a day from making a landing. I don't know if I'm more excited to be one of the first living creatures to step foot on the moon or to get out of this godforsaken ship. There is a rotten smell like someone's lunch has been left to decompose for a month. We spent all of yesterday looking for it but haven't found so much as a crumb. Again, we didn't report it but I made everyone swear that we would on the way back just in case it is a leak of some kind.

July 21, 1969, 18:24 UTC

We just left the lunar surface. It was incredible; I've never seen something so magnificent yet desolate at the same time. You don't realize how much smaller the moon is than the Earth until you are standing on it; you can literally see the horizon curve. Looking back at the earth is a surreal experience. I felt oddly lonely knowing that this small part of our universe contained all of human experience, well almost all, I guess we changed that today.

July 22, 1969, 7:30 UTC

The Stink Persists. I contacted mission control about it and they were concerned that it could have been a leak, but after going over all the maintenance checks and coming up empty they basically just shrugged and said that it might be psychological and that there is nothing they could do about that so we just have to hope for the best, which isn't exactly the comforting news I wanted.

July 22, 10ish

I swear if I didn't need these two idiots to get back home I would have committed murder by now. I don't know if it's the news we got from M.C. or the shitty food, but these two clowns refuse to talk to me. They are just sitting there looking out the windows, only responding enough to shoo me away when I block their view. I don't see what could be so entertaining out there.

5 pm

Our course keeps drifting; it's at the point that I have to readjust it every half hour. I tried contacting M.C. about it and whatever is wrong with Neil and Michael but all I got was static. I'm starting to think we might not get home after all.

3 am

Remember what I said about getting the Aldrin name in the history books? Yeah, that's definitely happening now. We found something; it's some kind of structure on Deimos, one of Mars’s moons. It's some sort of monolith, all metallic and shiny. It's beautiful. I understand why they wouldn't want to look away; I can barely take my eyes off it to write this. When we get home, people are going to wonder who built this because surely it has a creator. Nothing could be so perfect without one. There is only one creator I know of who is this perfect. This could only have been crafted by divine hands.

???

I've seen them, the divine hands, all around us; they want us to join them for now that we have touched the heavens we must remain. Neil and Michael have already gone but I remain as I fear that my faith is not strong enough to surrender my mortal form to them. I am a weak man, undeserving of being chosen by the divine.

Aug 30th, 1969, 15:30 UTC

It's been a couple of days since we got back home and I just found this journal in a pile of stuff I brought home. I don't remember writing any of this; I don't even remember bringing a journal with me but it's written in my hand and there are things in here that could have only been written by me. Nobody knows about Michael's cards or the way the surface of the moon curved. I don’t know whether or not I should tell anyone about this. Maybe I should go to Neil or Michael, but the things written here give me pause. I have a feeling something isn't right with them; they don't call like they used to, before our expedition. I thought they were just trying to relax, but maybe it's something more than that. For now, I’ll just write this down here so I don't explode from the thoughts bottled up inside me.

[station-aspenville]

Station Aspenville

by Circvs

Prologue

The sun had already begun to set above the field of sunflowers, as the three of  them came to slowly understand the gravity of their situation. They were terrified; anyone would be, any child in particular. Perhaps it was their childlike naivety that kept them going for so long, deluded by their own hopes.

The boy climbed to the rooftop of the radio station, as he had a habit of doing every evening. He looked at the sky and then the field, and then he realized how helpless he actually was. He tried, he really did. He tried everything, until there was nothing left to try. As he watched the sun set his eyes began to tear up. Never before had he felt so miserable, so hopeless. The world he knew was gone, changed, and something new took over its place; something terrifying he could never hope to understand. The only thing he knew was that there’s nothing he could do about it. He tried and then he failed, there’s nothing more to this story.

The boy hid his face in his palms and started crying; it was  the first time he did so since it all began. It was a cry for help. His screams kept getting louder and louder, yet nobody seemed to have heard them. As the boy lamented he slowly came to the realization, there’s nobody there to help him.

Chapter 1.

- Hello… Aspenville - said the voice on the radio. Soft and warm, likely belonging to a young man.

- My name is Alistair - he stuttered. You could feel the fear in his voice, almost like he was trying to hold tears back; I couldn’t blame him.

- I… I don’t even know what I am doing or… or whether anyone can hear me. - Alistair continued - Perhaps I’m just an insane person talking to himself, but I really don’t know what else is there to do.

As Alistair spoke you could hear his voice getting calmer, his thoughts more consistent and the words coming from his mouth more thought through. He was a social person, I could tell, it’s people like this who get their strength from talking to others, even without knowing if said “others” are actually there.

- It’s been two weeks since everything has started… or ended seems like a more appropriate term here. - the boy added after a minute of silence - Both of my parents are dead, last night had been tough and I’m exhausted. For the past two days, it’s been just me and my brother, Neil, against everything else. Life has really been testing my trust lately and I don’t think there’s much of it left, I can’t recall if I ever felt so alone.

Alistair started to break down, his voice began to crack, reasonably so.

- After our house got invaded last night I’ve decided it is no longer safe to stay there. It was hard for me, I was emotional and unsure, nothing at that moment felt real, but I knew that everything was more about Neil than it was about me, so I had to act quickly. It was the only thing I knew. I grabbed my mom’s keys, packed our stuff and today’s morning we left that awful place. I had little to no experience with driving, but I didn’t care; the only thing that mattered to me was Neil’s safety. The radio station was the only place that came to my mind, so that’s where we headed. My mom used to work here back when everything was normal, so that’s why I had the keys. I don’t even know why I thought of this place to begin with, it just… - Alistair paused - seemed less scary than everything else.

I knew what he meant. In moments of distress people tend to crave what they consider familiar. Being surrounded by things we already know well can create the false sense of safety, even if our lives are in danger and we are completely on our own. This description isn’t far from Alistair’s current position. He mentioned his mom working at the radio station and that place seeming less scary because of it, which can only lead to the conclusion that it played an important role in his early life; therefore I can only assume it was the desire for familiarity that led him there. After all, it  was the same desire, which led me into turning on the radio this very evening.

- Umm… it’s probably very selfish and irresponsible of me, but one of the first things, which came first to my mind while trying to pack the most essential stuff before leaving, were my science books. It’s really stupid, but I don't think I could survive without them. My whole life, whenever things got too stressful or out of hand, I just turned to what interests me as a distraction. I guess it’s just the way I am… - he sounded exhausted.

Alistair has just proven my point. We all have our coping mechanisms. Little things that help us get through life, when there’s nobody to guide us or show us any signs of care. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.

- And it was always science. - Alistair went on - I first got into it when I was around nine. My dad, who was a physicist, once brought me a book on quantum physics, written in a simple language for the general public. Being only nine I barely understood half of the words in that book, so my dad had to explain most of it to me. I still enjoyed it a lot. Ever since that day I started assisting him during some of his experiments. Sharing that interest surely helped me form a closer connection with him, but at times it felt like science is the only thing he truly cares about. I couldn’t blame him, I also found science incredibly fascinating. There’s always some kind of indescribable beauty to the idea that everything that happens in our universe, happens for a reason and as humanity, we can look for the reasons, so we can try to explain the world around us. Science is the means of doing so. Even if it can only provide clues and speculation rather than definitive answers, I still couldn’t help but feel intrigued by the idea of trying to understand this world in its fullest, ever since I’ve possessed the ability to think critically. Despite knowing that that is most certainly not the case for now, I still deeply believe that one day we can find out all there is to know about it. Full understanding of the world is truly a magnificent idea, isn’t it?

I had to agree with Alistair. Us humans tend to be particularly curious beings and Alistair seems like no exception. In fact he seems incredibly interested in what surrounds him. This kind of childlike curiosity can turn out extremely dangerous while paired with a more mature mind. Beware of your own intellect, Alistair; it may not have your best interest at heart.

- I can even remember starting my own journal, where I would document all the theories that happened to cross my mind and make at least a bit of sense to my childhood brain. - the boy continued his speech - I was only twelve back then, so not much of what I’ve written was based on any actual research, but I still enjoyed writing it. I named it “The Book of Truth” and… - Alistair paused - it might be a bit embarrassing, but I kept it and took it to the station with me. I haven’t done anything like that since I started middle school, but I think… maybe it would be a good idea to give it a second try right now.

Alistair went quiet for a quick moment.

- It’s just… - he went on - our current situation is pretty uncertain and we still haven't managed to figure out what’s actually going on. I myself have been thinking quite a lot about it and I even came up with some theories. I’m thinking, maybe writing them down as well as getting them out in the form of this broadcast could actually be a good thing. Maybe I can even try to contact some experts and try to help them with their research, after all I have the misfortune of living where it all started. Although, I really doubt they would actually like to listen to anything I have to say; in the end, I’m just some kid in a radio station in the middle of nowhere. I still think it’s worth a try, I really have nothing to lose in this situation and I’ve already found a working mean of communication. Besides, my theories actually serving a purpose is everything I ever wanted.

I found it interesting how, instead of trying to distract himself, Alistair took a course of action which required him to focus on his current situation even more. Most people wouldn’t do that. Even if his courage was admirable, I couldn’t help but feel like he’s not giving us the full picture of why he decided to do so. It all ties back to the familiarity thing from earlier; perhaps Alistair wants to get back to this form of journalising just so he can feel as he did in primary school again. Perhaps he does that so he can feel safe, more than any other reason. I’m not trying to deny his kind intentions. In fact, from what little I got to know Alistair this evening, he seems like an incredibly selfless and generous person. I just find it really hard to believe that anyone would willingly put themselves through so much mental torture just for the sake of research, let alone someone so young. Perhaps his age is the key. Perhaps Alistair is just too young to understand that the pain of knowing too much is one of the worst types of pain a human can experience. 

- I always admired my mom’s radio job. - Alistair suddenly changed the subject - In a town as closed and isolated as Aspenville, our local community radio happened to serve as the most common source of news and information. If it wasn’t for her the town’s people might have been misled on a lot of topics, that’s why she always tried her best to give them only the most legitimate information. She was always so worried about the news given to her by the station's management being nothing more than propaganda with no basis in actual facts, it sometimes even got to the point of paranoia. Despite that, she still loved her job; she loved being able to provide people with news from all around the country and facts from all sorts of fields. I miss my mom…

I knew Alistair’s mom, not personally. She was the voice of Aspenville for as long as I can recall. A bit of a local celebrity, as one might say. Her voice was feminine and just as warm and calming as her son’s. She had an incredibly distinguishable British accent, a hint of which could be heard in Alistair as well. I never got to actually know her, but from what little I did, she seemed like a real sweetheart, and so does her son. Aspenville is the kind of town where everyone knows everyone’s name, they hear all the gossip about their neighbors and rumors spread at an incredible speed, yet it seems impossible to actually get to know anyone. People here always tend to be quite secretive, as well as choose to mind their own business; I can’t say there’s necessarily anything wrong with this kind of approach. 

- I believe that now, more than ever, people need information, the true ones, based in science. Thinking of the current situation is uncomfortable, but much needed; after all if we never try to look into it, we’ll never find out what’s actually going on. I’ll do my best on providing this town with as much news, whether it’s actual research done by experts or just my amateur theories. It’s important to keep in mind that despite how hopeless our situation may seem, I deeply believe that there is a chance of us making it out alive, we just can’t neglect it. Us people are the only ones who can actually make a difference. We can’t miss that chance!

I still couldn’t help, but admire Alistair’s determination as well as his eloquence, yet there was something about his approach which seemed foolish, in a particularly childish way. I couldn’t blame him, Alistair was just a child trying to cope with a difficult situation. He might be foolishly heroic or blindly hopeful, but isn’t it still better than giving up all control and letting despair consume you?

- Well, it’s gotten pretty late, I haven’t even realized when. I really doubt I’ll be able to get much sleep tonight, but I might at least try to get some rest; I probably need it quite a bit. So, I think it would be best to leave it here for now.

He was right. By the time the broadcast started the sun had just begun to set, now the sky had fully been consumed by a deep dark shade of blue. Nights in Aspenville had never been particularly starry, mostly because of the fog, but this one was. The thought of admiring such beautiful night at times like this wasn’t something that would ever cross my mind, yet it was happening.

- Goodnight, Aspenville.

And with those words the broadcast ended. The voice on the radio went silent. It was the voice of a boy who tried to stay hopeful, as the world he knew was ending.

[buriedintheguts]

Thank you user @neil-perrys-glasses. You don't know how long I have been waiting for this exact moment.

Right off the bat, there was a reason why I chose these specific lines for both Wade and Logan, despite the seemingly similar nature of the lyrics. Admittedly, I ran based on vibes at the time but in retrospect, I realized there was no other option.

My sweetheart's piano is rat filled. It's the first line of the song, and it sets for the tone of the rest of it — jarring, out of place. The kind of shock that leaves you reeling for the rest of the song. I think Logan is like that — this Logan, anyway. He isn't what anyone expects him to be: he isn't a hero. In fact, he's known as The Worst Wolverine.

That's why I chose those two screencaps, side by side. The first shot, Logan in a bar, drinking his fucking feelings away. For a moment, he's just like this universe's Logan; an alcoholic, hiding himself in one bar or another. But then, the next shot, is the infamous scene where the audience — and Wade — learn that this is The Worst Wolverine.

Another thing to note is that rats are known to be carriers of plagues and, therefore, misfortune by direct association. Make of that what you will.

It's also a subtle (and, really, just for shits and giggles) reference to the way Wade will call him every nickname under the sun. Peanut. Honeybear. Wolvie. All that stupid shit. But Sweetheart has a more classic ring to it; a sincerity in the midst of them dicking around.

And mine is infested in bugs. As we know, bugs point towards an infestation or the presence of something rotting. Before you come at me, no. That is not a jab towards Wade himself, but rather it points to the state of himself in the start of the movie. He's a hot mess, always everywhere, always trying to save the rotting bodies of his dead — or in danger — friends. It's about those nine people, and how in the act of saving them, he had lost himself in the process. He gave up being Deadpool.

Hence, the shot of Wade sitting in his ordinary work, staring at the suit hanging up in the closet. He had left that life behind, had he not Even when Peter insisted that he picked it up again. Even when that small part of him still wanted to be Deadpool. Infested. Rotting. Half-dead.

The music we make is unnatural. This bit speaks for itself. It's a shot of Wade and Logan in the bar, the first time they met. Unnatural, of course, because they aren't even supposed to meet. Not just because they come from wholly different universes, but because Wade isn't supposed to play hero. But here he is, after traversing the multiverse in search for the perfect Logan, and he found it. Right here.

So, Logan and Wade's first meeting, messy and terrible as it may be, but it is their first meeting, and it turned out to be the start of a great fucking journey. Because strange as it may sound, that music is still music. It is still art. And most importantly, it is theirs — with the gun to the head and all.

But it sounds just like falling in love. In the end, all the shit they went through brought them right here — home. Cut: Their masks, side by side, put aside, because they don't need to fight here. At least, not to be seen and certainly not to be loved.

This wouldn't be a complete analysis if I didn't tell you the shots that I'd considered but scrapped. So, I must admit that I had considered using this shot

But I found the masks was a more powerful shot. So I went with that one instead because they are finally putting all of that shit down.

I did also consider using the scene where Wade brought Logan home but I found that there was no good screencaps that I liked (and I was in a rush so I couldn't dig around too much). Also, it was a predictable move. Ultimately, I prefer the masks, simply for what they represent.

Butch 4 Butch, Rio Romeo / Deadpool & Wolverine (2024)

[oldsalempost-blog]

The Old Salem Post

 Our  Local Tamassee-Salem SC Area News each Monday except holidays                                          Contact: theoldsalempost@gmail.com                              Distributed to local businesses, town hall, library.                                             Volume 7 Issue 8                                                                                                  Week of February 6,2023                https://www.tumblr.com/settings/blog/oldsalempost-blog                                                         Lynne Martin Publishing

EDITOR: This morning I was reminded of the horrifying and heart-breaking murder of Emmett Till in 1955 and how cruelty still exists in this world.  In many ways, history continues to repeat itself any time any of us feel superior to anyone or any group. Ultimately those who hold enough power will try to oppress the few.  Tolerance cannot prevail in the light of injustice.  But it continues to happen.  I am grateful for the few who stand to make a difference for the unheard.  I fear it will take until the end of time “and the Lord returns” to fix the mess our world continues to create.  February is the month of love and Black History month.  Be the difference.  Stand together, with all colors, all denominations, the weak, the poor, the sinners, the lost.  Let us stop repeating history.  Love.  L R Martin

TOWN OF SALEM: *Downtown Market every Sat. 8am-12pm.                              Diane Head Memorial Red Ribbon Cutting Feb 25. 1pm  at her Memorial Site located across from the Dollar General.  Salem Town Council Meeting Feb 21 at 6pm.                                                                                                                SALEM LIBRARY:  Hours: Mon 10-6pm.  Tues-Fri   9am-5pm.  Closed 12-1 for lunch.   944-0912                                                                                                                                                                    

____ASHTON RECALLS__________________      By Ashton Hester                  Here's a sports story for The Post that probably very few of today's residents remember. However, many undoubtedly remember the team's leading scorer from when he was Mayor of Salem:                                                                         BOYS' BASKETBALL TEAM WAS "THE PRIDE OF SALEM" IN 1953 - (The following story was in the January 28, 1953 issue of the Keowee Courier). . .A fellow wouldn't go far wrong these days if he referred to that boys' basketball team from up the mountain as "the pride of Salem". . .That's just the way Salemites feel about the lads who have built such an impressive record this season under the guidance of Coach Beecher Morton. . .To date they have won 11 games while losing only four. They are undefeated against other Class C teams, and have defeated several Class A and B teams. They have lost twice to both Seneca and Walhalla, who are both among the strongest Class A teams in the state. . .Two weeks ago they came within three points of upsetting Walhalla's defending Class A state champions, losing 43 to 40, and Monday of this week they battled Seneca down to the wire before coming up just short. . .Their outstanding season is even more remarkable when considering the fact that Salem does not have a gymnasium. They practice on an outdoor court when the weather permits, and when it does not, Walhalla, Tamassee and Keowee have been very cooperative in allowing the use of their gymnasiums. . .Jerry Wigington, playing forward, was the leading scorer through the first 11 games with 154 points for a 14-point average. He is also a standout rebounder and defensive performer. . .Forward Max Wigington is next with a 9.5-point average, and center Max Nicholson follows closely, averaging 9.2 points. . .Gerald Towns and Howie Abercrombie usually round out the starting five, but Don McCoy and Roddy Whitten also see plenty of action. . .Other team members are Billy Littleton, Gene Baldwin, Clark Green, William Rogers and Ralph McDonald. . .(Footnote written in 2023: This story continues with information about the Salem girls' team, which had a 5-8 record. I will continue with that information in next week's column, and also provide a follow-up of how the Salem teams fared in the District 1 Class C tournament.)

JOCASSEE VALLEY BREWING COMPANY,(JVBC)& COFFEE SHOP 13412 N Hwy 11 Open Wed-Sat 8am-9pm. Sun 1pm-7pm.  Events this week:  Thurs: Old Time Jam 6:00pm.  Fri– FOOD: Wing Wagon South  Music:  Neil Conway  at 6:30pm.  Sat–Music: Evan Dehner 6:30pm Food: Palmetto Spoon. Sun-Mardi Gras/Valentines kick off with Tuba Gin 4pm    Food OPUS 1pm.   864-873-0048    

BELLFEST 2023:  Join Friends of Jocassee for the 10th annual celebration of our native Oconee Bell at Devil’s Fork State Park. March 18 from 10am-3pm.  Park entry fees apply.  There will be Interpretive Bell Trail  walks, craft vendors, food trucks, music, kid and family activities, silent auction, and more. Visit www.friendsofjocassee.org to learn more.  

JOTTINGS by JEANNIE:  Pushing on through Winter Doldrums Good news from Lake Cherokee! Finally, the dam has been adjusted so that the water level will rise!  All winter, we have endured living next to a large "sweet potato souffle."  Draining the lake allows residents an opportunity to work on their docks. It's February, and already, daffodils drill through the hard soil to greet us with a shock of yellow.  I have not heard the baby frogs yet.  When it is really warm, they begin a chorus of synchronized peeping in late December. As my Scottish granny used to say:  "You can write this in the brim of your bonnet, Lassie."  --There is less than a month to go before the BRADFORD PEAR TREES audaciously bring forth white frothy blossoms while the trees' limbs and every other tree still look dead and wintery.  I have been cautioned not to extol Bradford Pears, and I do not remember why.   So I will continue to declare the wondrous irony of the blossoms exploding overnight on spindly dark skeleton boughs.  Much love,  Miz Jeannie                                                                                  

EAGLES NEST ART CENTER , 501c3, 4 Eagle Lane, Salem                                                                                                                                                              PERFORMANCES IN FEB 2023:   FOLK MOUNTAIN GOSPEL: FEB 11 Doors open at  5:30pm.  Event starts at 6pm.Don and Donna Mohl play mountain and hammered dulcimer, bowed psaltry, zither and more.   Website: folkmountaingospel.com  * Love offering event.  WOMEN ECOURAGING WOMEN: FEB 18, 1PM-4PM  *Love Offering event.  * This is a wonderful event for our local churches to help sponsor. *  Invite your girlfriends, sisters, mom, or strangers to this local 3 hour retreat. Speaker: Martha Watson.                                                                                                                                                        Save the Date for the Alumni Gathering March 4  Come visit with school friends, staff and teachers from the past.  

Tamassee DAR:  Tamassee DAR School can make your wedding dreams come true.  From engagement tea, rehearsal, ceremony, to reception – Weddings at Tamassee is a one-stop-venue experience for all your wedding needs. Make reservations for the next Bride-to-Be Tea Party on Sat, Feb. 18 at 10 a.m. in historical South Carolina Cottage on the campus of Tamassee DAR School.  Tour our beautiful indoor and outdoor venue options, visit with preferred vendors, enjoy refreshments, and learn more about our affordable wedding packages.   Cost for the Tea Party is $10 for the bride and one guest.  To register call us at 864.944.1390 or email us at events@tdarschool.org.                              Tamassee DAR Full Day Program: On Monday, Feb 20, Presidents’ Day, our student will have  a fun day of adventures with friends and learning good citizenship values. Your child does not need to be enrolled in the regular after school program to participate.  $28/day for nonparticipants, $18/day for participants.   Call Ms Hope 864-944-3022 Ext 118.    7:30am-6:00pm Includes Breakfast, Lunch, and Snack.                                                                                Valentine Project: Drop off a valentine the Salem Town Hall before Feb 10 to help Talley Luce with her project. She delivered over 400 to local shut-ins and assisted livings.  Donations are accepted  also,  such as socks, body lotions, pens/colored pencils, lip balm, word search books, or a singe artificial red  rose.  Prayer:  Lord, Make me an instrument of your peace and your love, through Christ Your Son, Amen                                                                                                                                          

[slow--spark]

shoujo sparkles 24/7

[theladycarpathia]

Hellcheer week day 1 - D&D

“And why exactly are we still at school on this lovely Thursday afternoon?” Billy asks, lying flat on the hood of the Camaro. It says a lot of how fond he is of Chrissy that they’re still here, a good fifteen minutes after basketball practice has let out. His curls are still damp from the shower, sweaty exercise gear shoved in his bag. It’s warm enough for October, the trees starting to take on shades of amber and gold.

“I’m sorry,” Chrissy says quietly, swinging her legs back and forth. Unlike Billy, her legs barely graze the ground, white sneakers gleaming in the sunlight. “I know you have a date.” Billy twists his head to look at her. She’s sitting upright, tugging the sleeves of her Hawkins Tigers jacket down over her hands, eyes anxiously focused on the far off doors to the school. 

“S’alright,” Billy mumbles, because Chrissy never asks him for anything. Their friendship is weird, struck up despite…well, everything. He’s Billy Hargrove, local asshole, and she’s Chrissy Cunningham, high school queen. He’d always kind of seen her around, at games, in her uniform in the hallways, under Jason’s arm at parties. But it wasn’t until she’d broken it off with Jason a few weeks ago that he’d really gotten to know her at all. 

Their friendship was sudden and unexpected, with the added joy of placating Neil and irritating the ever-loving shit out of Jason. 

One of the other players had taken him aside at Carol’s last party to discreetly tell Billy that dating another player’s ex-girlfriend just isn’t on. Billy had merely grinned and walked away. He couldn’t give a shit about whatever stupid rules everyone else plays by. And even if she cheers when he scores a basket, gets a ride home in the Camaro every Tuesday and Thursday after Cheer practice, and he carries her pink backpack while she hunts for her History textbook in her locker, they’re definitely not a couple.

It suits them both for everyone to think so. But only Billy knows full well that he’s not the one she broke up with Jason for. And no one knows exactly how much Chrissy is not his type.

“I don’t want you to be late,” Chrissy says anxiously. She picks up his left wrist, angling it against the sun so she can see the time on his old watch. Billy lets her, watching the way her mouth purses.

“They’re running late,” Billy says casually, and she flinches. 

“Who’s running late?” she asks, as though her voice doesn’t tremble with the lie. Barely a month into their friendship, they have lines that they don’t cross, wounds that aren’t ready to be revealed. They don’t mention the bruises clamped around his wrist like a vice, red fingerprints all in a row. They don’t discuss the way Chrissy pushes her food around on her plate, how she sits in the camaro with him at the quarry, watching the sun dip below the skyline, just so she doesn’t have to go home. He doesn’t bring up the chunky silver ring that she's taken to wearing on her thumb, even though he knows it’s not hers.

They both have secrets. Being aware of this fact doesn’t mean that they’re ready to discuss it. 

“Hellfire,” Billy says, turning his face towards the sky. It might be easier if he doesn’t look at her. “It's a bit late for them, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Chrissy says faintly, and Billy smiles. 

“They’re usually out by now,” he muses, wondering if he’s going to hell for teasing possibly the only and best friend he’s ever had. But hey, he needs some entertainment if they’re going to sit here waiting for the dorks to come tumbling out of those doors. He knows very little about the D&D club, bits and pieces picked up from the kids. He learns most of it by osmosis from an unwilling Max, who frequently complains about all of her friends being busy. “Unless they’ve got one of those big campaigns going.”

“They don’t,” Chrissy says, without missing a beat and one of her feet smacks into the bumper. Billy hums vaguely and closes his eyes against the sun. Some days he can almost pretend that he’s at the beach, letting the sun beat down on his face. But lately, it’s not too painful to open his eyes and find that he’s in Hawkins instead. 

“You know, don’t you?” Chrissy asks hesitantly, and Billy cracks open an eye. Her face is almost adorably vulnerable, the intricacies of her heart cracked open for Billy to see.

She’s like him in all the worst ways. She’ll smother her secrets and insecurities and wounds until they draw blood in her throat like razor blades. She has family and friends and she had Jason and he doubts that she ever told anyone of them about the thoughts that go through her mind, the dark and cracked parts of her.

It’s hard to care about something. It makes you feel raw, picked open by someone else’s love. Billy feels it every time Max falls asleep on his shoulder, when Chrissy climbs on his back after a winning shot, when Steve drops into the passenger seat of the Camaro like he belongs there. After his mom, he learned that people leave. Even if they love you, it doesn’t mean it’s enough to stay.

Chrissy gets what it’s like to have people who love you with conditions. He’d seen that straight away, recognising the cracks and fissures under her skin. How her smile would drop when no one else was looking. Her act is a sweeter one than his but perfection rots just as much as rage.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Billy shrugs easily, just as a crowd of people spill out of the doors onto the tarmac. Billy recognises the kids almost instantly; the dark curls of Mike, Dustin’s baseball cap, Will’s fingers tapping against his sketchbook, Lucas bounding ahead of them all. And even though a good deal of the older members are in Billy’s year, he couldn’t tell you any of their names. They exist in the background, a face in his English class, the flash of a Hellfire t-shirt in the cafeteria.

He sees how Chrissy’s spine straightens, how her eyes brighten. It’s like she’s been flooded with light from within, made possible by this tiny glimpse across a parking lot. He doesn’t know how this happened, what brought the head cheerleader into the same solar system as the dungeon master but he doesn’t question it. Love has made Chrissy sharper, stronger, more colorful, just as it’s softened all of his edges. She’s not afraid to take up more space, take what’s her’s, all the love and adoration that she deserves.

“We can stay longer if you want,” Billy says quietly, and she curls her delicate fingers around his. 

“Thanks,” she says, and doesn’t take her eyes off the lone figure in the distance. She won’t go over there, not with the club still milling around, a few cheerleaders still lingering by their cars. It’s enough for her to have this small glimpse, just enough for her to get through to the next day. 

“I know you know too,” Billy says, after a beat. It’s a lot, offering his own heart up on a plate, for her to see and judge and measure. But she merely squeezes his wrist tightly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she lies, an echo of his own words. Content, Billy tips his head back and lies in the sun to wait, letting her drink in the sight of Eddie Munson for just that little bit longer.

This is probably my least favourite thing that I’ve written for Hellcheer week? I’m still not happy with it but I think I’ll write more BFF Billy and Chrissy in the future. If you want to, you can check out them being besties with idiots boyfriends here. I didn’t finish the kink prompt in time but I will and post it after Hellcheer week!

[caravelmp3]

UNDER THE CANYON MOON

pairing: josh kiszka x female!reader warning(s): mostly fluff, just brief mentions of alcohol and sex  word(s): 2k note: hi hi hi !! this is just a little something i wrote up the last couple of days with the inspiration of light my love, canyon moon by harry styles, and the interview where josh talked about road-tripping the u.s. last summer <3 i don’t write one shots often but let me know what you all think bc i might shuffle some more out soon lol. hope you all enjoy !! :) 

The Los Angeles sun was hot, beating down onto the city basking in its late-summer hues. You parked your car on the street in Silver Lake and carried a bag of food and drink tray to the door of a recording studio, more than prepared to be swarmed by hungry boys who had been cooped up in the studio since five a.m. on the dot that morning. They had a breakthrough the night before with a new song, and after getting home and going to bed for a few hours, the creative juices started flowing again and they were back in the booth. 

A windchime on the door sang as you pulled the door open and walked inside, greeting their manager who was at a table by the door. 

“The boys here?” 

“Down the hall,” he nodded, pointing a finger in the direction of the hallway. “They’re more rowdy than usual so be prepared,” 

You laughed and turned down the hall, walking towards the studio. The walls were decorated with memorabilia of rock and roll greats and record plaques, and among them, you spotted a picture of the four boys with their Grammy award. It seemed like time had passed so quickly. They won the award for the first album and they were already working on their third, shooting them further into stardom. 

“Coffee’s here!” You shouted in a really bad New England accent when you noticed the recording light was flipped off above the door. 

You stepped into the room to a chorus of cheers and “thank god you're here”’s that made you laugh while sitting the food and drinks down on the table and they all rushed over. You handed out the specific orders and pointed to which drinks was theirs when they got handsy and tried to grab everything from her out of both excitement and some desperation for caffeine. 

“Our savior,” Jake said, reaching out and grabbing your shoulders to give them a gentle shake before taking the coffee you were holding out to him, and then you handed Danny’s to him, too. 

“Just the coffee girl here,” 

“Well, you’re a little bit more than that,” Josh said, walking over to the table to grab his full cup. 

You pressed a hand against the table, leaning over to him. “Just a little?” 

“A little bit,” he shot you a wink before swiftly pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

You were more than just a “little more” than the coffee girl, you were typically their designated drunk driver, the one who took all of their candid photos, the mediator in times of need, and well, the girlfriend of the lead singer, too. 

Everyone in the studio took their food and drinks and scattered among the seating area in a break from recording. Instead of one tiny room with all of them cramped together, they had a wide open space with booths for the different instruments and bean bag chairs and big comfy, velvet sofas, and there was dim lighting with deep toned rugs that gave off the vibe of a more relaxed feel rather than the fluorescent-light, tiled-floor feeling that made them feel rushed and confined by rules they didn’t set themselves. 

You liked the studio, too, and often took naps on the sofa while listening to them play instruments individually in the recording booths and while they were writing. One night they had found you at two a.m., bundled up with a blanket on the bean bag chair after they spent the night writing in the front room on the piano, but it wasn’t the first time as you often napped in their Nashville recording offices, too. 

“You guys been busy today?” You asked jokingly while lowering onto the sofa armrest, receiving nothing but glares shot in your direction. “Okay, okay, touchy subject,” 

With a mouthful of bread, Sam pointed to Josh, “Josh finished a song, didn’t you?” He was grinning. 

You hummed in joy and surprise, grabbing Josh’s knee as he sat next to you. “Really?” 

It had been a rough few days for all of them as they tried to shuffle out a few more additions to the new album. It felt incomplete with something missing, but they couldn’t quite put their finger on what it was exactly, so they attempted to bring back and revamp old songs, write and record new ones, but nothing seemed to stick, until now. 

“Yeah, wanted to wait and show you later, but someone can’t keep his trap shut.” Josh said, pretending to be serious before cracking a smile and taking a sip of his coffee. “Just wanted it to be a surprise,” 

“Well it can still be a surprise, I’m surprised now,” you said. “Can I hear it? Or read what you got?” 

Josh nodded and stood, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him. There was a little recording room fit with a piano inside, his writing journal placed on the music stand where he had scribbled notes and keys and melodies in pen. He picked it up and handed it to you. 

“Nothing seemed to click until last night, when I started putting it together.” He said. 

“Is that why you wouldn’t tell me what it was when you all got back to the house?” 

Josh shrugged, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. “Yeah, yeah, I wanted it to be special when you first heard it.”

You sat the coffee cup down onto the floor while lowering into the small chair in the corner, holding the journal like it was the most delicate piece of art in the world. In silence, while Josh watched on anxiously, you read the words he had splayed across the blank page. 

     Can you light my love?      Flames glowing bright as the sun      Deeper than oceans you run      Watch as our world has begun 

     Your mind is a stream of colors      Extending beyond our sky      A land of infinite wonders      A billion lightyears from here now

You felt your throat tighten, tears tempted your eyes. 

It was a love song. 

“Josh-” 

“Oh god you hate it don’t you, you dread it, despise it,” 

“Oh shut up, I’m in tears right now, you know I love it.” You looked up at him with a smile and a sniffle. 

His words across the page were sloppy, some cursive, written in different pens of different colors, some lines crossed and scribbled out, others underlined. 

“Your mind is something I will never fully understand.” You told him as he sat down on the chair next to you. “How the fuck did you come up with this-” 

“I was thinking about our trip out here, the week we spent driving out and all of the stuff we did… and how I think I fell more in love with you.” His voice softened. 

You reached out, placing your arm on his shoulder, fingers playing with his curls. “I can’t put it into words how much I love it, how much I love you,” you said, “and you make me sound so lovely when in reality I know I was a pain in the ass that entire trip.” 

“Yeah, but my pain in the ass,” he kissed the inside of your arm. 

Two weeks before the boys left Nashville to head to Los Angeles, Josh called you at midnight with an idea in mind – the two of you renting a camper to drive out to L.A., falling into all of the tourist traps along the way and stopping in random small towns to sleep while exploring the in between, which would definitely beat the boring four-hour flight. And you, half asleep and across the country, agreed. 

It would be fun. Right? 

And it was. Every time someone asked how it went, you called it “the most magical week of my life.” 

While the others waited behind for their flights the next week, you and Josh set off from Nashville, heading west with only the destination in mind and a trusty map in hand. Everything else just came to you both. 

The first stop was three hours in the trip, in Memphis. You and Josh roamed Graceland on Elvis Presley Boulevard and had lunch near Sun Studio before taking in the mementos and relics at the Blues Hall of Fame where Josh talked your ear off, rattling off more details about each band and singer than was on the info-cards on the wall. 

Then it was two hours to Little Rock, falling asleep in the back of the camper after a take-out dinner outside of a random supermarket. Sitting in lawn chairs in the middle of a parking lot, you held Josh’s hand under a blanket and watched the pink sunrise over the hills, and then it was back on the road again. 

From Oklahoma City to Amarillo, you fiddled with the map when Josh got lost after a wrong turn in a small town where he insisted on seeing the giant 66-foot LED soda bottle sculpture, and in the middle of northern Texas, he made it up to you by cooking your favorite dinner. You thanked him in a quiet whisper as you crawled into the bed with him that night, sliding under the covers where he greeted you with warm hands and kisses against your neck that made you squeal with the tickle of his mustache and he grinned against your lips. 

Josh got to choose the music all the way through New Mexico – Neil Young and Crazy Horse to John Denver’s Thank God I’m A Country Boy, and you were only able to squeeze in Joan Baez every hour when you stopped to stretch your legs on the side of the road, belting the words to him while he laughed at your voice cracks. 

And after you both pitched the tent in the Petrified Forest in Arizona, Josh hummed the tune to some new song while you two sat under the midnight stars in the canyon with a roaring fire, his arm around you, his sweatshirt draped over your shoulders. When he tried to start telling you a scary story after you heard a weird noise outside the tent, you blindly hit him in the dark and accidentally hit his nose, causing you both to burst into laughter after the initial panic left. He laughed loudly into your shoulder as you held his face in shock, catching the scent of your lavender lotion, and his body relaxed when the laughter died down, feeling so at peace in his life with you there. 

It was the tail end of the trip, but the excitement hadn’t died down yet. After showers in the camper in the middle-of-nowhere-Arizona and five hours west, you and Josh found a bar outside of Las Vegas that resembled Coyote Ugly, so you both had a round of tequila sodas and margaritas before walking around the small town that evening and sleeping off the tipsy-headaches in the air conditioning. On top of the covers, you looked at Josh napping in the sunshine, cheeks flushed red, curls poofy from the wind, and you felt your heart grow in your chest before falling asleep next to him. 

And then came Los Angeles, the final stop, the dreaded one. But you and Josh didn’t tell anyone that either of you were sad to be back with them in L.A. when they asked, and instead, you two smiled and hugged everyone after piling out of the camper in the drive-way of the Silver Lake house. 

Cleaning out the camper, tossing cheesy novelty t-shirts at each other and laughing at how many socks you two managed to lose along the way and how many bug bites were added, watching the developed clips Josh had filmed of scenes in the desert and you asleep in the passenger seat, you both were nostalgic about a trip that just ended. 

It was so easy, so freeing to just be together on the road, with only the destination in mind. It revealed a part of them that the other didn’t see often, like your tendencies to get your lefts and rights mixed up while giving directions, and Josh’s equally awful sense of direction didn’t exactly pair with the fact that he was a maniac while driving in the first place. 

But those parts were just added to the long list of why you and him loved each other in the first place. So you became the designated driver after Amarillo and Josh stuck to telling you “left or right” for the rest of the time. It was a compromise, another reason why you two worked so well together. 

It was a form of love in itself. 

“We’ll have to drive all the way back to Nashville then, so you can write more songs about me.” You teased. 

Josh rolled his eyes but cracked into a grin a second later. “Let’s not get too carried away,” but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t always mentally reliving the night under the canyon moon.

[jingerhead]

Hey!

Fic promt: Andreil slow dancing in their Columbia home after Andrew's graduation and Neil tells Andrew just how much he means to him(maybe something irritates his eyes causing them water)

Anyways, much love and support! Love all your works and am a huge fan!

Oh lovely you are just too sweet!! Thank you so much, I really appreciate it :)

I LOVE this prompt so much, like the idea of andreil slow dancing just makes me sob ‘cause it’s amazing. Just them knowing that things are going to be changing, they already talked through everything and went through the hard part of figuring out how long-distance was going to work for them, and now Andrew has finally graduated. And he honestly didn’t think he would get this far, maybe he wouldn’t have if it weren’t for the man he’s dancing with, and they just have a moment for THEM and AHHH IM GONNA SOB

Here have a tiny thing of it:

The music playing softly through the beat up radio was the only sounds between them other than the tiny squeaks from the creaky floorboards. It was starting to get warm, but they both wore fuzzy socks that made it all that easier to sway just a bit. Neil had one hand gripped tightly in Andrew’s and his arm wrapped around broad shoulders. He wasn’t sure who was holding the other at this point, but it didn’t really matter. Their chests were pressed together, Andrew’s free hand was still against the small of his back, and for a moment everything felt too peaceful and soft for them, who were anything but.

Neil had spent so much time staring that he already knew every detail about Andrew’s face, but that didn’t stop him from continuing to look, wondering if he could count all the freckles that had only just started to come out thanks to the spring sun. He wanted to pick out every color in Andrew’s eyes, figure out every name to the ones he saw. Wanted to watch the way Andrew’s hair seemed to shine in the light, the way he seemed to glow, just everything about him. If Andrew could see himself the way that Neil saw him, Neil was sure he’d understand why he stared so much.

After a few minutes, Andrew lowered his head until his forehead bumped Neil’s chest. They continued to sway like that as the music continued to play, comfortable and trusting the other to continue holding the other up as they went. Neil lowered his chin to rest on top of Andrew’s head, and he realized in that moment that he felt genuinely content. They could face all other challenges tomorrow, or in an hour, or whenever they arrived. For now, this was perfect. Amazing.

And if Neil felt something wet touch his collarbone, and maybe Andrew’s eyelashes blinking a few times too, he didn’t say anything. It was definitely the lights that were making his eyes water.

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Posterity - playlist

You can find it on Spotify here.

Soft Bullets - Posterity

The initial idea for this series came to me over a year ago, when I was still not done with Long Nights. I knew I wanted to explore the concept we knew from the movie, and that I’d need a different Reader. Not the combat-trained one, not even an untrained-but-still-mission-capable one. The potential dynamic seemed interesting enough. I’m not sure I knew back then that it would be a fix-it story. I was totally focused on delivering LN, I didn’t want to distract myself too much with plotting out another series. Then, a depressive spell came and I could no longer put words on the page. The idea was still brewing, but I lost hope that I would ever write it. The fandom was growing quiet, too, and the story became just another daydream, another scenario to play out in my head before falling asleep. And then, The Batman happened, and the rest is history or something.

The idea started gaining shape. Fix-it. Timey-wimey, River Song bullshit. The relationship, slowly building into something meaningful. I started referring to the series as Posterity, but I needed a proper title. A song that would encapsulate the vibe. Because all my works are somehow related to music, why should this one be any different? So one day, I typed Posterity into the Spotify search bar.

Surely enough, there was one song from Tenet’s soundtrack. Close, and I used it along the way, but there was another one, and when I started listening to it, I felt that piece of a puzzle falling into place, the hype that only happens when I find a perfect song.

//We're in the firing line and no-one's getting out alive

We're backed against the wall, the crowd are screaming for blood

Two young lovers lost in this frozen universe, star crossed and holding on to anything that floats

I guess it's true when we met we were wrapped up in lies

Nothing came between us but the doubt in your eyes

But every doubt grows steady like a spark to the blaze

It'll burn your house down,

Burn your house down, down//

You get this feeling from the start. That determination. Made me think of the reality seen from Tenet operatives’ point of view. But then it moves into the soft, gentle tones. And then:

//But it's a beautiful thing to see the world in this place

Drifting through the suits with a smile on your face

But as the sun breaks free from its municipal cage you will never look back,

Never look back//

This part. This being among the people, but having that wider perspective. And loving it, all things considered. This seemed vital - for Neil, obviously, but also for Reader, in their own way.

Chapter 1: Chase McBride - Headlights

Funny thing, that was the only chapter title that I was unsure of. Because most of the writing playlist at this point was rather something I was gonna use later on, and mainly because that part was only a setting. Let’s see what we have here

//In an endless conversation last night

Momentary bliss, turn out the lights//

Last year, I had no idea how dialogue-heavy this series would be. I mean, sure, on some level that was obvious, but only when I started outlining, it came to me how much relationship-building stuff is going to happen over the phone. Good thing is, these two were really helpful, and the conversations seemed to flow between them.

//Keep me in mind, just try

A little bit of your time//

Oh, this Reader came with some baggage, all right. I saw them clearly keeping everyone on the other side of the headset at arm's length, but what I imagined at first got quickly revisited on the page. Operator was even more cautious, but only because of how much and how easily they usually start caring. And with Neil, and the whole banter that comes too easily, they had to be even more on guard.

//I've been searching through the stations, keepin' quiet

Momentary risk, amplified

It's a growing temptation, deep inside

Ordinary changes, intensify//

Neil is very much unaware of the internal struggle, but is curious, and wants to get to know them better. That little ruse made for a good opportunity!

Minke, Mahogany - Gold Angel - Mahogany Sessions

//All dressed up, nowhere to go

TV's on, no one's home

Look me up, if I'm not there

Leave a message, show you care

Meal for two, eat for one

This place of worship has come undone

Shattered frame upon the wall

No photograph to look out for//

The conversation with Alex was important to me to show that they are still close, but that there’s something that Reader keeps to themselves. They were fine. Introverted, feeling best at home, with a book and a cup of tea. They were content in this routine. They didn’t allow themselves to dwell on that too much.

//I hear your voice and it sounds like

A symphony

You lift me up, dead or alive

When I'm not breathing

I'll be your gold angel

If you want me//

My little headcanon here is that Neil had a little crush on them already. Been having one since he first heard their voice. Was quite content with just a bit of business-hours banter, but then he bought the figurine, and when he met Alex and they gave him that private number and were quite convincing how he should actually give it a try–

Also, gold angel. And Neil’s goldenboi himself, so…

Luca Fogale - Feel it

//Get it all out now

Anything you need

While the book is open

Cold and incomplete

Nearly disappeared

Who I could've been

Cast into the heat

Recklessly in spin

But wait

Something got left out

Isn't someone mean to be

Standing beside me?

'Cause I can't feel it

I can't feel it

Like the most important piece

Is always buried underneath

And I can't feel it//

When I’ve been thinking about emotional arcs for the characters, I felt that the common ground for this duo is going to be loneliness. The one that you don’t really see from the outside, but hits you the most in the quiet of the night. At this point it’s all rather buried, but very much there.

Chapter 2: Hazlett - Fireworks

//End of the rope

This heart's closed

Thundering hopes

Tear-jerk notes I've written

All my life

Waitin' for a change to come

All my life

Waitin', waitin'

We could rise forever

But it won't matter

We could rise forever

Burn into matter, matter

And I can give you fireworks//

Okay, the fireworks sequence was actually one that’s been with me for months! That moment, that connection, how Operator doesn’t want to lean into this relationship, but there’s this understanding that can only happen when someone really, really gets you. It’s yearning-inducing, but at the same time fulfilling, and this song has the exact vibe for it. The warmth, the reluctance in the lyrics, and just this feeling of time slowing down and the world tuning out. Like during that hug happening when the clock strikes midnight.

Elvis Presley, Junkie XL - A little less conversation

I believe that’s a good moment to say why Elvis. Blame it on a traveling yt series I’ve been watching back then! The vlogger was touring the States, and he’s been in Vegas, and when I had to come up with a mission for Neil in the first chapter, this was the first place that had popped into my mind. Then, what cheesy souvenir could he get there? (And oh, that scene alone was very different from the original idea, our Operator was supposed to meet Neil in the office, sitting at their desk! But I had to rethink how the hell would Posterity work in the first place, and I knew that security-wise it didn’t track - sadly, had to let this image go) Went for a figurine of the King himself. Only after thinking about the potential behind it! It hit me when I was looking for some songs to play at the party. And this? This one is absolute fire!

//A little less conversation, a little more action, please//

— Tell me this isn’t the most perfect call to dance for them.

//Baby, close your eyes and listen to the music

Drifting through a summer breeze

It's a groovy night and I can show you how to use it

Come along with me and put your mind at ease//

This part was handy, too! Just to let Reader ease up on the dance floor, because sure enough, they were still going against their most important rule, even if acting on instinct, and that was getting their agent out of the possible uncomfortable situation.

Scissor Sisters - I don’t feel like dancin’

You know how I feel about dancing. Dancing Neil, in particular. I couldn’t resist!

//So I'll play along when I hear that special song

I'm gonna be the one who gets it right

You'd better move when you're swingin' 'round the room

Looks like the magic's only ours tonight//

Body Rockers - I like the way you move - radio edit

So we have them on the dance floor together, now what? I didn’t want to turn the heat up too much too fast, and well, had to lean to the pure joy of just letting go.

//There's so many things i like about you,

I just don't know where to begin,

I like the way you, look at me with those beautiful eyes,

I like the way you, act all surprised,

I like the way you, sing along,

I like the way you, always get it wrong,

I like the way you, clap your hands,

I like the way you, love to dance,

I like the way you, put your hands up in the air,

I like the way you, shake your hair,

I like the way you, like to touch,

I like the way you, stare so much,

But most of all...

Yeah.

Most of all...

I like the way you move//

The temperature rising might be inevitable with this song, but there’s fun in it, first and foremost. And mutual fascination, the one that happens organically, but with this duo - not on a very physical level. A conscious choice on my side. I’ve written enough smut into the previous series, wanted to get something more wholesome this time.

Deee-Lite - Groove is in the heart

//The chills that you spill up my back keep me filled

With satisfaction when we're done

Satisfaction of what's to come

I couldn't ask for another

No, I couldn't ask for another (you know that's right)

Your groove, I do deeply dig

No walls, only the bridge//

Okay, this song - whenever I hear it, all I can think is that one HIMYM scene where Robin and Barney are dancing to this very song, putting up a show. The vibe in it! The way they flow together, how they understand each other – gotta stop now, before I go on a rant about it. I imagined Neil and his Operator having exactly that much fun together, tho.

//Flowing, glowing with electric eyes (eyes)

You dip to the dive, baby yo, realize (yeah)

When will you see the funky side of me?//

The Source & Candi Staton - You got the love - New Voyager Radio Edit

I love Florence’s rendition of this song, but this one popped up while I was making the chapter playlist and I couldn’t help but smile. It has that space to it, it’s uplifting, just putting the biggest grin on your face. And it has that slow down moment, where you can look into one person’s eyes and see the world in them. Love, love, love.

//Sometimes I feel like

Throwing my hands up in the air

I know I can count on you

Sometimes I feel like saying

Lord I just don't care

But you've got the love I need

To see me through

Sometimes it seems that

The going is just too rough

And things go wrong

No matter what I do

Now and then I feel

Like life is just too much

You've got the love

I need to see me through//

Chapter 3: Blakey - Confidant

I knew that at one point in the story, Neil needed to hear the reason behind the Operator's usual business demeanor. Originally, I thought about putting it a chapter earlier, but you know me, the more angst - the better. Besides, I liked the idea of Reader calling Neil after a bad day, and nothing screams bad day more than being on a call when the mission goes south. Because that also was an opportunity to show Neil first-hand how much it can affect them, and that was still “at arm’s length” relation that triggered the distress. And made a good setting for what was to come.

//I've been where you've been holding yourself to a sinking stone pulling you down but you can't let go

People around but you all alone

I know how it hurts you, yes I do

I've been stuck in that same sized shoe I see life's tight for you

Hate saying you sad got a trickle down your cheek

Take my hand let it trickle down me instead just call me the confidant//

I think that Neil knows that temptation to just close off, to stop caring - just to protect oneself from heartache, quite inescapable in their line of business. Although, caring is in the root of his character, we see that in canon, how much it can mess with him keeping his composure. He understands the struggle, but still trusts it’s worth it. And as much as he doesn’t instantly change Operator’s mind (that would be bullshit, not when their beliefs are so deeply internalized), and he doesn’t exactly say anything too insightful, combined with the lack of pressure, creaks open a door in Reader’s brain, and that’s more than enough.

This song perfectly encapsulates that understanding, and the wish to just be there for them.

Link Lewis - Moments

This…this one just makes me struggle to breathe and brings tears to my eyes.

//In sight

We're far away now

But in heart

We're still so close

Though you can't see me, I'm still awake

There's a reason it feels I was there only yesterday

An invisible reflection

An unbreakable connection

Yes, we live, then we die, it's the circle of life

But we're still with you inside//

A message from the other side, but also a reason I wrote this:

What’s happened’s happened. And it’s yours, forever. All you got to experience together, all those little moments you shared, the emotions that warmed you whenever you needed. They stay. Even if the person is no longer with you.”

(side note - I love that quote about grief being love persevering. It switches perspective, it’s healing, even if it still hurts like a bitch)

Emmit Fenn - Lullaby

I remember sharing this chapter’s playlist with @hollandorks​ and she told me that it feels like Neil wrote every single song on that list right after they hung up after that first call. So on point, I couldn’t believe how accurate Spotify recommendations were. This is no different:

//This is a lullaby that I wrote for you

You don't have to sing all the words if you don't want to

This is a lullaby that I wanted to sing to you

While you close your eyes and dream about the moon

That I have everything I could want no more

While I'm laying next to you right here on the floor

So forget it all

The fights and the waterfalls

And I know you're scared

But I'll always be here

To catch you when you fall//

I love how calm and comforting this song is.

Occie Elliott - Thinking about you

And this one captures those waking up feelings. There’s something about it, you can almost feel those butterflies.

//I'll be thinking 'bout you all my days

I'll be thinking 'bout you all the way

And I'm not sure how but you're in me now

And I know that you're there to stay

And your lovin' makes me lose my place

I cannot get enough of your face

Away, I counter me in the night

I just want to hold you tight//

Chapter 4: Fergus James, Dustin Tebbutt - Old Stars

//So will you let me be your light?

To pull you through the lonely night

Oh oh oh, 'cause I'll try

I'll meet you over the ocean under these old stars//

Lonely nights. The hardest part of the day, where the heart longs twice as hard, and you can’t do much about it. Unless you have someone on the other end of the line, as lonely as you. Even if Neil and his Operator don’t ever admit it to each other out loud, I think they can feel it, on some level.

Dustin Tebbutt - Resin

There’s something gentle about this song. Almost cautious. Just as they both still are around each other, but at the same time, letting one another deeper and deeper into their hearts.

//In your ribs

I see more than bones

Something lost

I had long ago

All the words

Are meaning so much more

As you say them

Without a clause

Now I'm letting all you in

You caught me falling//

Colder Shoulders - Pure Shores

Okay, I know the original, never thought I’d use it. But this version? There’s so much longing in there, whenever I hear it now, I think about a comment @eravanaaaah​ made under this very chapter: Longing and yearning, slow and gently blooming affection, two people drawn to each other like flowers turning towards sunlight…

Yes. Exactly this.

//Never been here before

I'm intrigued, I'm unsure

I'm searching for more

I've got something that's all mine (got something that's all mine)

I've got something that's all mine (got something that's all mine)

Take me somewhere I can breathe

I've got so much to see

This is where I want to be

In a place I can call mine (call mine)

In a place I can call mine (call mine)

I'm movin', I'm comin'

Can you hear what I hear?

It's calling you my dear out of reach

(Take me to my beach)

I can hear it calling you

I'm comin' not drowning, swimming closer to you//

David Nevory - Still

So I’ve been browsing for songs, played this one, I heard that bit about the night and I squealed a little. So fitting.

//I can see you longing

For another bit of that night

You can feel it coming back

We just need more time

Will you help me walk

When I reach for the finish line

If it was up to me

We'd run till the day we die

Are you still mine

At the break of light

With your soul on fire

Will you come inside

Are you still mine

When the dawn is closer

And the day gets older

Will you think it over

Are you still mine//

I’m no expert when it comes to idiots in love trope, but this… I don’t know. At this point, they’ve already caught feelings. Neil takes as much as his Operator is willing to give him, not pushing for more. Because they still hesitate to give in fully, to act on those feelings to transform their relationship into something more. At the same time, whenever they’re together, either on a call or next to each other, they can’t help themselves. Each touch, each hug, is like the most natural thing in the world, like they just belong together, whether they want it or not. No wonder that in the middle of the night, miles and miles apart, they miss each other with every beat of their yearning hearts.

Chapter 5: Nathan Ball - Just say something

I found it and instantly knew it had to be one for Neil’s last call (from his perspective, that is). Just look at those lyrics:

//I came with a warning but it drew you in

She said see you in the morning, but I won’t be here

And I want you to feel alright

And I love you to the end of time

So just say something so I know you’re there

Just say something so I know you care

I got a taste of your heartache as you close your eyes

Just a kiss on your forehead just to see you smile

And I want you to feel alright

And I love you to the end of time//

I struggled with that call. Words wouldn’t flow, Neil wasn’t helping. There was a tricky part about it - had to be innocent enough not to tip Reader off, at least not completely. At the same time, if you were careful enough, you could realize at what point of canon events we are, so it had to make sense as some sort of goodbye from Neil. Balancing it was the key, and at that moment it seemed impossible. So I decided to skip it and wrote the lecture hall meeting first, then the rest of the chapter, with POV switch at the very end. And only then came back and it clicked. Because even though I knew Neil’s emotional progression through this chapter, I had to see it written down. Had to feel that punch in the gut in it’s full strength, evidently.

Adele - Make you feel my love

I can’t help it. Adele just clenches my heart in the best way possible. I used this song on loop for the meeting. The part about embrace? And the rest of it - it’s so them, innit?

//When the rain is blowing in your face

And the whole world is on your case

I could offer you a warm embrace

To make you feel my love

When the evening shadows and the stars appear

And there is no one there to dry your tears

I could hold you for a million years

To make you feel my love

I know you haven't made your mind up yet

But I will never do you wrong

I've known it from the moment that we met

No doubt in my mind where you belong//

David Gray - This year's love

And this is for the hug.

//This year's love had better last

Heaven knows it's high time

I've been waiting on my own too long

And when ya hold me like you do

It feels so right oh now

I start to forget how my heart gets torn

When that hurt gets thrown

Feeling like you can't go on//

Every word of that. You see it too, right? There’s this tired vibe to the vocals, and it makes me think how tiring that loneliness must be for our Operator. How easy it is to forget about their own worries when they’re in Neil’s arms. At the same time, that risk is still there, and when you think of what is happening at the same time as that scene takes place, a little bit forward down Neil’s timeline — ouch.

You+me - You and Me

//You and me, we're searching for the same light

Desperate for a cure to this disease

Well some days are better than others

But I fear no thing as long as you're with me

They say everything, it happens for a reason

You can be flawed enough but perfect for a person

Someone who will be there for you when you fall apart

Guiding your direction when you're riding through the dark//

I can only think of Neil as a character full of light. Somehow, it really came out in this series, I knew it was gonna be challenged, threatened, but never put down permanently. Even during and after the darkest moments. Obviously, that light was something that drew Reader in, because come on now. And I’d like to think that it was kinda mutual. That Neil saw the same light in his Operator. Well, maybe not flickering with such chaos, but still very much there, and not only during passionate rants (something I didn’t plan for our Reader, but sorta happened on its own).

Ludwig Goransson - POSTERITY

Tenet soundtrack is oh so handy when I have to write action sequences of any kind. The urgency! That tension! I usually use Freeport, but for this series, POSTERITY felt more appropriate. This kicked in right after Mumbai, and carried me all the way until the end of the call with Ives.

Tracy Chapman - The Promise

The only part of the call I had was that promise. That Neil wasn’t about to do anything stupid. I knew he wouldn’t lie to his Operator. And that promise wasn’t a lie, not from his point of view. He’s already lived through the next two weeks. He was certain Reader didn’t know, so he couldn’t say a proper goodbye. Because they still had yet to experience it all. And deserved to get the most of that time, and it was the only way.

//Oh, I've longed for you

And I have desired

To see your face, your smile

To be with you wherever you are

Remembering

Your touch

Your kiss

Your warm embrace

I'll find my way back to you

Please say you'll be waiting

Together again

It would feel so good to be

In your arms

Where all my journeys end

If you can make a promise

If it's one that you can keep

I vow to come for you

If you wait for me//

And all that is for another promise, near the end of the chapter. Unvoiced one. But as important to him. In Tallinn, he still had no idea what was about to happen, and even so got scared after hearing the panic in Reader’s voice, he didn’t want to risk a bigger heartbreak than necessary, in case– …so words could wait. He still had no reason to believe he wasn’t coming back.

Sleeping At Last - I'm gonna be (500 miles)

This song. THIS SONG. I sang along to it so many times, but this cover hit me right in the heart.

//And when I'm lonely, well I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you

And if I grow old, well I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who's growing old with you

But I would walk five hundred miles

And I would walk five hundred more

Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles

To fall down at your door

When I wake up, well I hope I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who's waking up to you

And when I'm dreamin', well I know I'm gonna dream

I'm gonna dream about the time I had with you//

To me, this is Stalsk. And the coma. And — yeah, I’ll see myself out.

Chapter 6: Noah Reid - Hold on

I switched the chapter’s title to this one just before posting. I usually go over the chapter’s playlist one more time and make sure I chose the right one, and after writing the whole thing, this one stuck with me the most. Look at those lyrics! Absolutely perfect for the opening sequence, for that waiting. And those raw emotions near the bridge! Holy shit, simply amazing.

//And I've been on the wrong end

Of too many a telephone call

Trying to say too much and just ending up

Saying nothing at all

'Til I'm pacing the floors

And I'm bouncing my head off the wall

And it ain't hard to tell this'll all be well in the fall

If you can just

Hold on

Hold on

Hold on with me

'Cause I can only be

So strong

For so long

Without you holding on to me//

Lily Kershaw - Now & Then

//Maybe we know

All the ways this could go

All the ways it would end

Were you ever my friend?

Were you sad and alone

When you broke on the phone?

Who was I to you

As you passed through?

Remember the rooftop parties

Remember the friends

Remember the way I love you now

And the way I that loved you then//

Another phone call mention, and rooftop parties sound close enough, right?

Lilla Vargen - Love you twice

The emotions in there, my heart. It was the missing your wicked ways that made it for me. So fitting for those long days waiting for the message to get delivered.

//Take me back to when the streets were glowing

Back to when our love was young and still was showing

Take me back to when I felt alive

We could have made it

We almost got it right

We almost got it right

Before we lost it all

Before we paid the price

I loved you once

Now won't you let me love you twice?

And you know I've been losing days

Missing your wicked ways

And you know I've been losing days

Wishing this pain away//

Thunder Jackson - Caroline

So I put this song on loop and got to writing the hospital part. I knew what was coming. I had already cried myself to sleep plotting it out, and I knew it was going to be hell. And I still underestimated the impact. When Operator broke down in there, I did too.

//We were too undefined

I was out of my mind

Now I'm walkin' on backwards

To meet you on the line

As I am, as you are

Let's go back to the start

Caroline, I know

Caroline, I swear

Caroline, Caroline

Caroline, I know

I was so cold then, wasn't I clever?

Learned to keep my distance from the crowd

Worn out, worn out, and bent at the knee

I no longer need to be proud//

The raw pain in this song is taking my breath away. The regret, the heartache, twisting the knife as I wrote: “When you asked me out, that very first night, I should have said yes…imagine having that much more time–”

Kayou, Gina Livia - i need you closer

So I’ve been crying for an hour, putting words on the page, and then Shelby messaged me and I think I sent her my playlist and a picture of a pile of used tissues? And she sent me THIS.

//You’re fading

Away

But can you hеar me

'Cause I try to make you stay

Oh, keep fighting

For gods sakе

'Cause I can hold you

And I can hide away your pain

The ocean is frozen

And you’re broken and hopeless

But let me show you that there is some light

I’m hoping

I’m still hoping

That you bear up and notice

That there’s a reason why you’re still alive

And now I need you to focus on you

Can you come over

Come over

I be your shoulder, I need you closer

Oh, please come over

Come over//

So I put it on repeat. Crying my eyes out. Biting my lip so I wouldn’t sob because the house was already asleep while I pushed further into the chapter.

Aisha Badru - Water

//What are you crying for?

You know the world is yours

And what is meant for you will be

So loosen up your grasp

Everything's not meant to last

Let the rising tide withdraw and go back to the sea

'Cause you see

People are water, they need to be free

They need to explore more where they want to be

We cannot be keepers of anyone's key

We have to love in a way that sets them free

And darling, believe me, there will come a time

When the earth will shake and the stars will align

And you won't have to beg for anyone's time

So trust and believe everything will be fine//

So that letting go part…. I didn’t plan on it. I hate that trope, because it always breaks me and reduces me into a puddle of tears and general misery. So whenever, I don’t know, Nolan plays that card, I grit my teeth and choke on tears. And yet, this time, those characters decided to teach me a lesson. Because sure, Reader had one of their own, to open up and let someone inside of their heart, because even the pain of losing someone is worth it (I recently watched Bridgerton season 2 and guess which part made me cry). And letting go… that was the extension of it. That was why I was bawling. This is my ultimate trigger. That song… there’s a bit of comfort in it. Something hopeful. Like a warm hand cupping your tear-stained cheek when you are trying to catch a breath in between sobs.

((Side note - because why did Operator leave? Why didn't they come back? Sure, it hurt so much, but – … Let me get very personal, tw: death, feel free to skip to the next song: I kept thinking about my dying grandmother. She wasn’t conscious, but was still holding on for as long as my mom was there. And when my mom left her side and went outside the hospital room for 10 minutes, she chose that moment to leave. I believe that she wanted to spare her daughter witnessing the moment. That was in the back of my head while I was writing that scene. Because our Operator was letting Neil go, after hearing how much he’d been struggling. And knowing how much Neil cared about them, remembering how he asked if they were gonna be okay? I think that instinctively, they thought it would be easier, in case he really needed to go. Yeah, I’mma need some tissues now.))

Elvis Presley - Love me tender

When the idea of that little Elvis callback came to me, I was like “oh, that’s evil…should I?” with immediately going yes.

//Love me tender, love me sweet

Never let me go

You have made my life complete

And I love you so

Love me tender, love me true

All my dreams fulfill

For, my darling I love you

And I always will//

Chapter 7: Sleeping At Last - Turning Page

I don’t have words. It’s beautiful. And when the music swells, your heart does too, and to me it’s just so them. Used that for the first hug in the hospital.

//Nothing prepared me for

What the privilege of being yours would do

If I had only felt the warmth within your touch

If I had only seen how you smile when you blush

Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough

I would have known what I was living for all along

What I've been living for

Your love is my turning page

Where only the sweetest words remain

Every kiss is a cursive line

Every touch is a redefining phrase//

Bootstraps - Whenever You're Around

The kiss. My heart sings.

//Freedom, found it in your eyes

Will ya leave 'em open wide?

And loving you, step one to admit

Was an addict from first hit

'Cause

Whenever you're around me

Anytime, anyhow

You make it brighter

Whenever you're around

Yeah, whenever you're around//

Smeyeul., Galvanic, Haux - Love Me

I love how gentle this song is. How it carries the happiness in it. To me, that’s the moment when Neil is kissing down his Operator’s tears.

//Hold me

And the night will come alive

Trust me

Like I've known you all your life

And all you had

Was all you gave

When you're falling fast

Don't be afraid

When all you had

Was all you gave

When you're falling fast

Don't be afraid

Just, just love me//

Simple as that.

By The Coast - I'll Get You Home

For Neil’s breakdown.

//I'll get you home

When you are tired

Stand next to you

When you're in the fire

I'll get you home

I'll tell the truth

When I'd rather lie

I'd rather be known

Than keep it inside

I'll get you home

Never leave you alone

And I will get you home

If I could before

The sorrows we'd see

I'd love you again

I'd feel everything//

Tyler Brown Williams - Never Stop

Love confession. And what came after.

//In the quiet and in the storm

Every rise and every fall

Any door that we walk through

I will never stop loving you

Every path that we might find

Light of day or black of night

Anywhere life takes us to

I will never stop loving you

Oh, my heart is yours

My heart is yours

You can have it all

Oh, you show me how

Without looking down

It's okay to fall

In the fire and in the flood

Every word and every touch

There's nothing that you couldn't do

I will never stop loving you//

SAILR - All My Life

And for the closing sequence. This song is a promise, and there’s hopeful warmth to it, something I wanted to leave you all with by the end of the story. After all that angst, there had to be a happy ending.

//I'm gonna love you all my life

The world may rearrange

The colors, they may change

Oh, I

I'm gonna stay right by your side

I'm gonna live to make you smile

The rivers they may run

And the changes they may come

Oh, I

When the light is out of reach

And the answers they may seem hard to find

When the castles start to fold

And the only words you know are why

Whenever you start to feel like running

And you forget just who you are

Keep all of these words close to your heart

I'm gonna love you all my life//

This is it. Thank you all for taking this journey with me.

[knickknacksandallthat]

Flavors of Fall - Chapter 19

Read Chapter 19 here!

Andrew stares at himself one last time in the mirror.  Honestly, his outfit isn’t really that different from any other night out – he wears black, tight-fitting jeans with matching black leather shitkickers and a black turtleneck worn over a black t-shirt and longsleeve (because he doesn’t like to be cold, damn it).

In fact, the only thing that really alludes to any kind of Halloween costume at all is the thin, polished gold circlet he wears around his head.

He turns.  “Well?”

Sir meows enthusiastically at him, while King just gives him a disdainful look from his cushion on the couch.

Andrew shrugs.  Then he stuffs his wallet, keys, and cell phone in his back pockets, takes one more deep breath, and heads off.

The sun is just starting to set by the time he reaches the edge of the woods where the Bonfire & Bakeoff is being hosted.  The bonfire itself is massive enough, members of the fire department standing around just in case its flames get too unwieldy.  In general, though, it’s a chaotic sprawl of people dressed up in costumes and tables littered with food.  Andrew can see several kegs, wine barrels, and other alcoholic beverages strewn about the place.  There’s also some kind of Halloween-ish funky music playing in the background, and several residents have taken to dancing before the flames.

Between the dark shadows, the masks, and the costumes, it’s actually kind of hard to tell who’s who in this eerie twilight.  It adds another element of mystery and bedlam to the already wicked night.

It’s wild and paganistic, and everything Andrew could usually ask for.  But this year, his nerves have clutched him by the throat.

He pours himself a drink before meandering slowly through the crowd, looking this way and that for some indication of Neil’s appearance.  To be honest, he’s not even sure he’ll come.

After all, he never actually answered Andrew’s question in his email – if that was even Neil to begin with.  Anyone who knows Shakespeare’s play, As You Like It, could have been clever enough to respond – and there are certainly cruel enough people in the world who would do so.

So he wanders and searches through the shifting bodies, looking (appropriately) for a ghost on this hallowed eve’s night.  But the first people he runs into are, in fact, folks he hadn’t expected to be there at all.

Almost to the end, loveys! 💖

[mourntheantagonist]

#HarringroveApril Day 16: Nostalgia

***

When Billy signed those discharge papers, piled into his dented Camaro and headed west towards the sunset despite the screaming redhead banging on the windows crying “please don’t go!”, with an aching chest both metaphorical and physical, he didn’t think for a second about looking back.

So how he ended up back in the same shithole he turned his back on ten years ago was entirely beyond him.

He had made a life for himself in California. He got his associates degree at the local community college and worked his way up from a nine to five teller position at the local bank all the way to branch manager, making an upper middle class salary. It was easy work. Boring work, unfulfilling work, but easy and worth every penny. He had a couple of friends, mostly coworkers, more so acquaintances than friends. He had a fancy apartment in the city, he went on dates, though they usually ended in one night stands where the other guy snuck out in the dark hours of the morning leaving Billy to sleep in a bed that was just too big for one person. But he was free from all of those forces in his life that always held him back and pinned him down, and each and every one of those forces just reeked of small town America.

He hadn’t heard a peep out of Hawkins since Max had given up on calling around eight years ago, or at least he hoped that she’d given up and something worse hadn’t happened to her. He regretted not answering those calls everyday. The guilt of leaving her behind like that weighed heavy like an anchor, but he did it anyway. Bad decision after bad decision he was surprised he made it to where he had today, and he just wished she’d call again.

But he also wasn’t sure enough of himself that anything would change if she did, and that phone would likely remain on the hook until the ringing stopped and she was left to the sound of his voicemail.

“You’ve reached Billy Hargrove. Leave a message.”

He wasn’t home the day she finally did call, which fortunately took that decision away from him. Her message was tossed in with a mix of telemarketers and employees calling in for days off, it could have easily been dismissed, passed over like every other piece of junk in the system if her voice hadn’t been exactly the same as it was the day he left her.

“Hey Billy, it’s Max. I know you probably don’t give a shit, but Neil died of a heart attack last night…” Billy stopped listening after the words ‘Neil died’ came over the speaker. He had to replay the message to hear the rest because by the time he’d gathered himself it had already ended. “...the funeral is next Saturday in Hawkins. Nobody expects you to come but I thought you should know anyway and that everyone would still like to see you. Call me back at…” Billy wrote the number on the back of a blockbuster receipt and set it flat on the counter quickly with a firm hand and a quick retraction, like it might burn him. Max’s name and a ten digit number below it in a blue ballpoint pen stared back at him and he just drummed his fingers on the counter and bit his lip trying to think everything over.

He looked at it for probably another thirty minutes while the rest of the voicemails cycled through in the background before he decided to make a call of his own. Slowly and shaking, he dialed the phone number and tried to even out his breathing while he waited for the sound of the pick up. He was partially hoping that it never came.

But it did. The click sound was followed by a voice that didn’t belong to Max, but one he still recognized.

“Hello?”

Billy took in a deep breath. “Hi. This is Billy.”

“Wow, I’m surprised you actually called.”

Billy huffed and if it had been ten years earlier he would have already hung up the phone by now.

“Who is this?”

“Lucas Sinclair. I take it you want to talk to Max?”

Billy tensed at the mention of her name, as if that hadn’t been the whole plan in the first place. “Yeah,” he said, a little bit of shakiness to his voice, “could you put her on?”

After a few short moments of silence and a little bit of movement in the background, he heard her.

“Hey Billy.” she sounded… glad… and it made Billy let out a heavy sigh of relief.

“Hey Maxine.”

“It’s Max.” There was that tone, she hadn’t changed at all.

“Yeah, I know.” There was a pause, Billy twirled the phone cord around this index finger to the point it started going pink and then purple while he tried to get the question to leave the tip of his tongue. “So, he’s really dead?” he asked, blunt as ever.

“Yeah. I don’t expect you to want to come for the funeral, but I just thought you should know, and if you need a place to stay you can– hold on one second” Billy could hear muffled bickering and Max yelling ‘Lucas Sinclair’ through clenched teeth and it brought a smile to his face. It reminded him of all those times he’d eavesdrop on her phone calls with him just to piss her off, just to hear her yell at him through their shared wall before she’d chase him around the house. Those were good days. “As I was saying. You can stay here if you need. We have a spare room.”

“Thanks for the offer.”

“I really hope you decide to come.”

“We’ll see.” He was just about to hang the phone back up, but he stopped himself, “Hey Max?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice hearing the sound of your voice again.”

Billy wound up taking the week off and driving that same old Camaro, restored back to its former glory, that did the distance twice before, back over to Indiana, to the place he said he’d never go back to, and he really couldn’t figure out the reason why he didn’t just go into work. There was nothing to drive him to go but the weird feeling in his gut that refused to go away until he called in, and a little bit of that pressure was released.

For each freeway exit he came across on the over thousand mile journey he contemplated turning around, getting back on that on-ramp going the other direction and save himself from whatever hell he’d be walking into.

Because that’s what Hawkins was to him. Hell. There were monsters like his father, and then there were real, legitimate monsters as well and Billy wasn’t safe from either of them, well he was safe from one now. He couldn’t imagine why Max decided to stay in the shithole and not get out like he did.

Maybe that’s what makes him the coward.

The welcome to Hawkins sign gave him chills. He remembered seeing that for the first time, following behind the rickety Uhaul pulled by their beat up truck when Billy decided not to follow them into their next turn, and instead got lost on the “scenic route” of Hawkins which really meant “trees, trees, and more trees” when he hit the Quarry’s dead end and nearly went off the cliff into the water below.

At the time he might’ve thought it would have been better if he had.

A lot of things had looked to have changed about the town since the last time he saw it. Places that he remembered being nothing but vast forests now had neighborhoods and restaurant chains and the place that once had a natural canopy was now completely deforested and exposed to the sun.

But the Quarry was exactly the same as he left it.

From the beer cans crushed and scattered, to the sounds of gravel pieces bouncing up and chipping the paint on his car.

The continuities continued to add up when he stepped foot out of the car, pulling on that same old denim jacket he hadn’t worn in years after trading it in for a suit and tie. His boot hit the gravel path just like it always had, with that same stomp that demanded attention, like each time he got out of that car he had to play into the dramatics, put on the mask and play the part he chose for himself. The breeze and the smell, it was all the same as before, as if the industrialization just several blocks north hadn’t had any effects on this little corner of the town where the birds still sang their songs in harmony and the smell of nature was pungent. It felt like no time had passed at all.

But it had been the sound of a rumbling BMW rolling down the crushing gravel that made him feel exactly like he was back in highschool again, the same rotten kid who used fists as forms for problem solving, the kid who as an adult had worked on his impulsivity, standing there, staring up the gentle slope with his fists clenched so tight his fingernails left marks on his palms. All that work, all that progress he thought he’d gone through, thrown straight out the window at just the mere sight of something from his past.

The BMW pulled up beside him, and the quarry apparently wasn’t the only thing that hadn’t changed. Steve still had the same big swooped back hair and that same exact look on his face when they made eye contact through the passenger window, the same exact look he had the day he told him he was leaving, and screamed at him to get out of his hospital room.

That was the last time they spoke.

Steve got out of the car without a word and just leaned against the door, looking him up and down, and Billy didn’t feel like he had any right to say the first word, considering he’d had the last one.

“It’s good to see you Billy.” Steve broke the silence, and it was almost startling, with both the sudden change of volume, and the sound of that voice he’d almost forgotten singing in his head like a song he didn’t remember learning the lyrics to.

“Is it?” Because it felt like it was all just a formality coming out of his mouth.

He wasn’t expecting an answer to that, so he shouldn’t have been surprised when Steve changed the subject. It was oddly refreshing seeing Steve write the script this time, steering the conversation his way.

“Looks like we both kept our old wheels,” he said, slapping the top of his car twice, maybe a little too hard. The sound of a hand against metal echoed through the trees. “though there’s not as many dents from what I remember.”

“I had it restored.”

The majority of Steve’s body was hidden behind the car that separated the two of them, but he could see in the way that his shoulders moved that his hands had found his own hips, doing that same stance of a mother who just caught their kid in the act of something naughty. “Some good memories happened in that car.”

“Some bad ones too. Or do I need to remind you how the dents got there in the first place?” Billy crossed his arms over his chest, as if the thousand pound chunk of metal that served as a barrier wasn’t enough to protect him. Because it felt like Steve could see directly through him with the way his head tilted when Billy threw his words back at him. Because they both knew that it was horseshit. Memories of whatever happened between Steve and the Camaro existed only in the dents that remained and the neck pain that still lingered. He didn’t actually hold any grudge about that, and he never did.

Because Steve was right. There had been good memories in that car, some he didn’t remember until seeing him again, some that still played in his mind when he went to sleep at night. Maybe that was the reason he kept it around for so long, that one piece that contained all of those few good times, all of those times with Steve.

“You were always so good at that.”

“What?”

“Deflecting. Pushing people away.”

Billy opened his mouth to defend himself, but there was nothing that came out but his own breath, but Steve filled that silence anyway before Billy would have even had the opportunity to speak.

“You cut your hair.”

It was like he was being interrogated.

“Company policy, they practically had to strap me down and take the clippers to my head themselves.”

Steve actually laughed, and it seemed genuine at least. Billy pulled out the pack of red that he always kept on the seat like it was muscle memory. His hands would only ever stop shaking when he had that little stick between his fingers, and they were only shaking more since Steve got out of that car.

“You still smoke?”

Billy put the cigarette in between his lips and lit up, pausing for a nice drag before bothering to answer Steve. Just letting his eyes fall shut and experience just a short moment of relaxation.

“Some old habits never die”

Steve pursed his lips. Every single one of his mannerisms were exactly the same. This one meant that he wanted to say something that he didn’t know if he should.

“Was I just an old habit too?”

“Steve–”

Steve just kicked the side of his car with his knee, sure to leave a dent of his own. The sound was loud enough that the consistent stream of chirping birds transformed into a cascade of flapping wings as the birds on the trees flew away from the scene. He walked around to the front of his car and the physical object that once created separation was gone, and suddenly Steve was within reach and he couldn’t breathe.

“Glad to know it’s harder to quit nicotine than it was to quit me!”

Billy chucked his lit cigarette at the ground and scuffed it with his heel into the gravel. “Who told you it was easy?!” He had a finger pointed to Steve and had closed their distance a few feet more, less than an arms length apart from each other.

“You left!”

“Because I had to! You know I did!”

“You didn’t have to leave me!” Steve practically screamed that final word, his face was now just inches away from Billy’s and he was nearly foaming at the mouth and from an outsider's perspective, Steve looked about two seconds from either kissing him, or killing him.

He did neither. He took a step back and recollected himself with a dramatic clearing of his throat. “You didn’t even ask me to come with you.”

“And you don’t think I regret that every fucking day of my life?” Billy’s voice broke, trembling throughout the sentence like he was containing a ticking time bomb. “Why are you even here?”

Steve just rolled his eyes at the steer. “Max sent me.”

“Of course she fucking did.”

“She cares about you y’know.” Billy scoffed, because how could she? After all he did to her? He could still hear those palms banging against those windows and her muffled screams for her to stay every time he got into that car. “Why are you here?”

“Did she not tell you the part where my dad died?”

“I know damn well you didn’t come all this way to pay your respects.”

Billy let himself drop to the ground and sit on the rough terrain with his back against his tire, unable to continue standing, his legs were ready to betray him.

“I have no idea why I’m here, okay? I just am.”

Steve nodded his head, and he didn’t say anything, no quip back in his face, he just followed Billy to the ground.

“Are you upset he’s gone?”

Billy let out a groan and tried to rub the growing migraine from his temples.

“I’m feeling a lot of things, but I don’t think ‘upset’ is one of them.” Neither of them said anything after that. They just sat there on the ground and enjoyed the silence together like they used to do. Looking up at the clouds and arguing over what shape they were. There’d be none of that today though, and it had nothing to do with the overcast skies. “You still keep a six pack in your trunk?”

Steve laughed and got up from where he was seated and popped the trunk. He was right. Some old habits never fucking die.

Steve tossed a can over to Billy and sat back down on the gravel, maybe a little closer than he had been before. Billy took a long swig and swallowed the bitter taste down. He hadn’t drank much since he was a teenager, he traded in his Coors for Cola and he doesn’t understand how he used to enjoy the taste of it before.

“Why did you stay in Hawkins?”

Steve dug his heel and pushed a pile of rocks forward, kicking a plume of dust into the air.

“Nobody ever gave me a reason to leave.”

Billy wanted to ask if he would have even come with him had he asked him to. But he opted against it, instead just taking another drink from the can and a genuine “I’m sorry.” passed his lips.

“You know I followed you?”

“What?”

“Yup. Made it all the way to St. Louis before I turned around.”

Billy was just staring at him at this point, unsure if he’d just heard him right. He just sat there with his mouth agape, catching flies and waiting for Steve to say more.

“I knew that you needed to go. I knew that you were hurting and it took me almost ten hours on the open road to realize that you needed time to heal.” Steve’s eyes looked glossy and his cheeks flushed but he kept his smile on. “So I came back home, and I waited here for you to come back. I wanted to make myself easy to find when you needed me.”

“You waited for me?”

Steve inched his hand over to where Billy’s was propping himself up and let his fingers gently trace the back of his hand. Steve’s touch was everything. It made his heart start racing and his palms start sweating and it felt just like 1985 all over again.

Billy took Steve’s hand in his own and entwined their fingers together and Billy let out a long exhale as they did.

“Billy,” Steve said softly, scooting his body just a little bit closer, less than a foot of separation now between the two of them, and he looked Billy in the eyes. Billy had almost gotten entirely lost in those pools of deep brown before Steve had the chance to speak again. But he heard it, loud and clear. “I’m still waiting for you.”

He waited.

Waited ten fucking years.

Billy wasn’t going to make him sit there and wait for a kiss too.

Billy closed the distance at the moment the penny dropped, sinking all of his weight into the kiss in a frantic and uneven pace just like they were eighteen again trying to squeeze both of their bodies into the backseat of the Camaro, refusing for even a second to separate themselves from the one point of contact that sealed them together like glue. The kiss felt just like their first. In the same spot, instead under the stars and the two of them both drunk off their asses, and that time Billy tasted of only blood and liquor.

But it was that same feeling. That desire to never pull away, that fear that it would end and that it would be the last time. He had that fear with everyone of Steve and his kisses, that each one might just be their last.

So he made a point to savor all of them.

They kissed until they physically couldn’t anymore. Out of breath with swollen lips and an inability stop the smiles that peeked through every couple of seconds. They sat there with their foreheads touching and their clasped hands still intact, relishing in the heat that was each other’s breath on their faces. Billy was crying, just streams of tears paired with a smile that Steve gently wiped away with his thumb, the brush of contact making him shiver.

“I missed you so fucking much.”

Steve cradled Billy’s head in his hands and peppered a few short kisses to his lips.

“I missed you too.”

“You think this is why Max invited me here?” Billy asked. “I can’t imagine she’d actually think I would want to come to this thing.”

Steve laughed. “No. She’s not an idiot. She figured you’d want to crash the funeral.”

Billy immediately got up from his place on the ground and held his other hand out for Steve to grab onto. “Well you wanna join me while I go piss on my old man’s grave?”

Steve took his hand without hesitation and let Billy pull him up off the ground.

“It would be my honor.”

Hawkins made a lot of bad memories for Billy, most of which he locked somewhere far away, but the good still remained. Right there in the look on Steve’s face with the way he looked back at him.

And he was happy to make a couple more.