#Joyce: …. maybe I’m being too harsh. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

andiwriteordie · 2 years ago

Note

congrats on 1,500! ✨

For the prompt: how about something on Joyce's feelings on established (new or not) Byler? Just how she feels finally being able to see her boy happy (and with the boy who has been his side since forever)~

ahhh thank you so so much!!! ❤️

oh i love love love this prompt so much! here you go!

no matter how long it takes

Will is late to breakfast, and absolutely no one is surprised.

“Do they think that we do not know?” El asks curiously, her mouth stuffed full of Eggo waffles. The food in her daughter’s mouth makes it a little difficult for Joyce to understand what she’s saying, but she gets the basic gist.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, kid,” Hop scolds, nudging their daughter’s shoulder. “Jesus, who raised you?”

El just makes a face back at him, and Joyce shakes her head, taking a sip of water. “I don’t think they know that we know,” she chuckles. “Jonathan didn’t, back when he and Nancy did the same thing.”

Her eldest kid groans, giving her an exasperated look. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Sweetheart, you came downstairs with lipstick on your cheek,” Joyce says with a smirk. “And you still had poor Nancy climb out the window. How stupid do you think I am?”

Jonathan just rolls his eyes, and he picks up a slice of bacon, munching on it absently. “I tried telling Will that you somehow know everything,” he remarks. “So, maybe he knows that we know.”

Hopper hums, taking a sip of his coffee and looking back up. “Nope,” he says, and he shakes his head. “I heard Mike scrambling to hide when I woke the two of them up.”

“Idiots,” El deadpans. “And what happened to the three inch rule?”

“Don’t worry,” Hop reassures. “I’m just biding my time. It’s fun to see Wheeler sweat a little bit.”

“You’re evil,” Joyce deadpans, shoving her husband’s shoulder lightly. Hopper just gives her a crooked little grin, and Joyce shakes her head, glancing back towards the staircase.

It’s funny how much their lives have changed in the past several months. Honestly, Joyce’s life has been a rollercoaster of change since that fateful day back in 1983 when her boy was kidnapped, and she’s only just now starting to feel a semblance of normalcy return to their lives. It’s… nice. It’s really, really nice.

Because all of them are happy. She and Jim have been married for a couple months now. The wedding was a small affair—just a nice courthouse wedding in Indy with a reception for their little group of Upside Down survivors. Jonathan and Nancy are still together and planning to go off to the East Coast this coming fall for college. El is happy too—single for now, though Joyce thinks there might be something between her daughter, Max, and Lucas. She still needs to find out more about that, but either way, as long as El is happy, Joyce is too.

And then there’s Will.

Her boy is happier than he has been in years, and God, it brings such a warmth and a joy to Joyce’s heart. She still remembers sitting with Will back at their old home—the one haunted by harsh words and beatings from Lonnie, the one scarred by monsters tearing through their walls and separated the two of them, the one torn apart by horrors that threatened to consume her youngest son. She remembers a warm summer day in particular when Jonathan had stumbled downstairs, his tie crooked and his face marked with Nancy Wheeler’s lipstick.

She remembers Will’s words that day.

“I’m not… gonna fall in love.”

Joyce hadn’t said it back then, but she’d known. She knows her kids, and even though Will hadn’t been ready to tell her yet, Joyce had already known the truth.

“I’m not… gonna fall in love,” her sweet, quiet son had said, when he already was.

A lot has changed since that day, and thank God for that. It’d take Joyce forever to explain how much things have changed, but she thinks one of her most favorite changes is the shift in Will’s demeanor from a sad, resigned belief that love wasn’t for people like him to a happy, silly, and lovesick attitude that follows him around all the time.

Will is happy, and he’s in love with his best friend, Mike Wheeler.

And to Joyce’s delight, Mike Wheeler is just as happy, and he’s just as in love with Joyce’s boy.

So, when Will stumbles downstairs, wearing a hoodie that Joyce knows doesn’t belong to him, with his hair ruffled like someone’s been running their hands through it, and his cheeks flushed bright red, she can’t help but smile. Her family holds back their snickers as Will takes his seat at the table, and Joyce just smiles at her son.

“Morning, baby,” she greets, and Will looks up, meeting her eyes.

“Morning, Mom,” he says, a small smile on his face. “Sorry, I… uh… I overslept.”

“Mhm.” Joyce nods, and she gestures to the plate of food sitting in the middle of the table. “Well, there’s still plenty left to eat if you’re hungry.”

She pauses, glancing at the front door and considering her options for a moment.

And well… it’s not fair to only tease Jonathan, right?

“There’s enough for Mike too,” Joyce adds with a grin, and she fights her laughter as Will nearly chokes on the piece of toast he’d started to eat. “You know… if you wanna run outside and catch him before he leaves.”

Her boy’s face gets bright red, and beside him, both El and Jonathan snicker, nudging him teasingly. “Mom,” Will starts to say, and Joyce just raises an eyebrow.

Will deflates, and he covers his face with his hands, clearly embarrassed. “You’re sure it’s okay?”

“Oh, just go get your boyfriend, kid,” Hopper chuckles, and he gives Will an amused look. “We all know he’s probably climbing out the window and running away as we speak.”

As Will groans again, Joyce just laughs, smiling at her son. “Hop’s right,” she agrees. “Come on. Mike’s part of the family. Now go catch him before he leaves!”

Will lowers his hands, and for a brief moment, he looks up at Joyce, meeting her eyes. There’s something in his eyes that warms Joyce’s heart—a tentative yet hopeful and relieved look.

For a moment, Joyce remembers the fourteen year-old who once sat next to her at the kitchen table, pouring syrup all over his eggs. She remembers how her boy had barely been able to meet her eyes, how quiet and dejected he’d sounded that day, and how badly she wanted to fix this for him.

A lot has changed since then, and Joyce thinks Will knows it too.

An understanding passes between the two of them, and Will just smiles. “Thanks, Mom,” he whispers.

Then, as quickly as he can, Will hurries to the door, running outside in hopes of catching up to his boyfriend, and Joyce just smiles.

A lot has changed over the past several years.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Joyce and her family are happy.

#andi's asks #byler #byler ficlet #andi writes not dies

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lonesome-witching · 1 year ago

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Let's Go Upstairs

Another prompt for @rabbitofdeath-atcastleaarrggh. We continue the story of Robin and Nancy after the story from last time where Karen and Joyce were getting ready to propose to each other. We skip past the proposal and end up with Nancy helping prepare the wedding and Robin being a good girlfriend.

You can read my previous prompts or send me some new ones.

Things had been busy. Well, Nancy had been busy. She had her classes and the school paper and now she had taken up helping with the wedding planning. And that only mean that Robin was taking up more shifts at Family Video, it’s not like she had anything better to do with her time now that she was barely seeing her girlfriend.

And it was fine, it was perfectly fine, Nancy called every night, and they did eat lunch together almost every single day. It was just that she could barely handle another shift serving the ignorant assholes of Hawkins. Which Steve must have noticed when she started cussing out customers under her breath. Not a single one had caught her yet, but it was only a matter of time.

So, Steve had forced her to take a break. And Robin’s room felt a bit claustrophobic when she was there alone. So, she had decided to visit Nancy. She was almost getting withdrawal symptoms from being away from Nancy too long.

She rang the doorbell. She was nearly buzzing at the thought of being near her girlfriend again. The door opened revealing…

Karen Wheeler.

“Oh, hi, Robin. Come in, come in.”

“Hi, Mrs. Wheeler.” Robin waved as she stepped over the threshold. “Is Nancy here?”

“She’s at the kitchen table.” Karen reached out for Robin’s arm. “Maybe you can get her to take a break.”

“I’ll definitely try,” Robin replied with a smile before walking into the kitchen. When Nancy came into view, Robin could feel her breath get stuck in her throat and her heart speeding up.

Nancy Wheeler was sitting at the kitchen table with a pen in hand, a notebook in front of her and glasses on her face. It might have been the most gorgeous sight Robin had had the pleasure of ever encountering.

Nancy looked up. “Robin, hi. What are you doing here?” It sounded slightly harsh. Robin took a step back. “No, no, not like that. I’m glad you’re here. It’s just that I’m so busy.”

“Maybe you should take a break.” Robin walked forward. Her girlfriend was almost in reach.

“I really don’t have the time.” Nancy took her glasses off her face and closed her eyes.

“How did I not know you wore glasses?”

“I don’t wear them all the time. I don’t really like wearing them.”

“Why not?” Robin pressed her lips against Nancy’s cheek. “You look hot in them.”

It almost felt like it was just them. Like this was their house and she and Nancy had already made their vows. It was something Robin was thinking about more and more often. Marrying Nancy. It felt like this unachievable goal.

Except for right now. Now that Nancy was leaning into her touch, it almost felt achievable.

“Robin,” Nancy whined. It sounded like stop and keep going all at once.

“I was thinking we could go out and grab some milkshakes. Or we could watch a movie? Or—” Robin lowered her voice. “Or we could go upstairs and have some fun.”

In her head Robin was one step ahead. Thinking about engagement rings and proposals in a very different way than the girl laying in her arms.

She would do it. She would propose to Nancy. It didn’t matter that they were still so young. Robin knew what she wanted, and she wanted Nancy Wheeler to be her wife.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Nancy muttered, sighing happily. It was all too easy to imagine that Nancy had read her mind.

Robin pulled Nancy up. “Let’s go upstairs.”

#prompts #ronance #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #my work #stranger things #fanfic #robin x nancy #nancy x robin #ronance fic #ficlet

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heavencasteel420 · 2 years ago

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I posted 331 times in 2022

That's 331 more posts than 2021!

66 posts created (20%)

265 posts reblogged (80%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@will80sbyers

@andfrecklesandyoursmile

@babygirl-jonathanbyers

@jonathanssweatercollection

@musicalchaos07

I tagged 323 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#stranger things - 268 posts

#jonathan byers - 150 posts

#nancy wheeler - 78 posts

#jancy - 58 posts

#will byers - 34 posts

#jancyweek2022 - 22 posts

#steve harrington - 20 posts

#joyce byers - 17 posts

#el hopper - 14 posts

#argyle - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#and el's just trying to protect herself and others in a situation where she has few social skills or knowledge of the world outside the lab

My Top Posts in 2022:

Jonathan could literally perform an emergency appendectomy onscreen in S5 and people would still say he was useless.

21 notes - Posted October 10, 2022

I saw a post saying that you were a hypocrite if you hated Billy but “excused” Nancy’s actions, and I’m still totally baffled. Nancy has done maybe four mildly bad things in the show under difficult circumstances:

Persuade Barb to come with her to an un-fun party so she could hang out with her new boyfriend. Honestly, I don’t think this is actually bad—sometimes you go with a friend to an event you don’t really enjoy so they’ll be safe or have company. Under ordinary circumstances, Nancy would’ve owed Barb a favor, but a favor in the sense of doing an activity that was way more of a Barb thing.

Say mean things or snap at people when traumatized, provoked, and/or inebriated. I think the most offensive thing she says is the one about “the Oliver Twist routine” to Jonathan. To be fair, that was a fight where they both said harsh and unjust things in a very trying situation, and I love him but he kind of started it.

Arguably stay with Steve too long when her heart wasn’t in it. I say arguably because we don’t know what happened between Christmas 1983 and late October 1984. She might have sincerely believed she loved him and that it was best to let things go with Jonathan before the Hollands revealed that they were sinking money into the futile search for Barb.

Seem weirdly hostile to acknowledging that Jonathan has to deal with being poor and (to a lesser extent) not understanding his difficult family situation. I think some of this is classism and general indifference to Jonathan on the part of the writers, so I can’t be fully mad at Nancy the character.

These are all okay reasons to dislike Nancy, but Billy:

Threatens, berates, physically harms, and breaks the possessions of his thirteen-year-old stepsister;

Insults people without provocation (the kid at the pool, women in general);

Tries to run over children with his car;

Declares that Lucas, a thirteen-year-old boy who’s never done anything threatening in his life, is dangerous because he’s black;

Tries to beat or even kill Lucas (again, a boy who’s five years younger and much smaller than Billy) for no reason;

Bullies Steve for no reason in a kind of creepy way and beats him to a pulp at the Byers house for the crime of…not letting him hurt Lucas or the other kids;

Smashes shit in the Byers house even though nobody in that family has done anything to him.

He’s out there committing actual crimes and being a proud bigot. Nancy just has normal character flaws and mostly tries to be a good person. They’re not on the same level. What’s next? You’re a hypocrite if you think Vecna is bad for killing people horribly and trying to take over the world, but you let it go when Dustin ungraciously complained about the quality of snacks at Will’s post-funeral reception?

42 notes - Posted September 15, 2022

I just realized something.

Emerson College (where Nancy plans to go) is in Boston. Jonathan is in California for the first stretch of season 4, thinks he and his family will be there indefinitely, and plans to go to community college there despite his former ambitions and desire to be with Nancy, because he’s worried about money and is afraid to leave his family. His decisions are driven by some practical concerns, but also by deep-seated childhood trauma—he and his family have always been in danger, first from an abusive father and then from the Upside Down, and that has shaped his entire life. He’s smart, but he’s self-sabotaging by smoking pot excessively and not communicating with his mom or girlfriend. Argyle, his laidback friend who seems content in Lenora Hills, likes hanging out with him but tells him that he’s self-sabotaging.

This reminds me of a movie. A movie that’s on the list of Season 4 movies. Good Will Hunting. A bright, poor, traumatized, self-sabotaging young man in Boston won’t move to California with his beautiful, smart, ambitious, rich, loving girlfriend who’s going to med school there, partly because it’s a huge financial risk for him and partly because he’d be leaving his friends (the closest thing he has to a family). He also lies to her about his rough his background and current situation is, which causes her hurt and confusion down the road. But, after working through some of his issues (and hearing that his friends will miss him but don’t want him to be stuck where he is), he goes to join her in California and it’s implied that they’ll reconcile.

I don’t know, but this gives me some hope. Nancy could want to go to any prestigious school with a journalism program; why one in Boston? This could be why. Obviously no one’s going to have time for actual therapy in S5, but, if Max was able to come to terms with her survivor’s guilt in S4, I think something can be done for Jonathan. Here’s hoping.

92 notes - Posted October 3, 2022

I think more Stonathan and Stoncy fics set in the middle seasons should include Jonathan kicking Billy’s ass. I think it would be fun and romantic.

114 notes - Posted October 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I like that you can interpret Nancy’s initial annoyance with Robin to support multiple ships. She’s jealous because she thinks Robin is dating Steve, for whom she has developed new feelings. She’s horny for Robin and she’s mad that she has to figure out her sexuality now in the middle of everything else. Robin has the same hair as Jonathan, her fashion sense is similar, and I think she’s about the same height, which makes Nancy sad, nostalgic, and horny, which in turn makes her annoyed. Or maybe all three! She’s going through it.

125 notes - Posted September 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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marwritesgood · 2 years ago

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The Smell of Smoke

Pairing: Steve x Hopper!Reader

Timeframe: Post-Season 3

Summary: Y/n spends her first Christmas without Hopper in California with El and the Byers.

series masterlist // main masterlist

A/N: this is a side-story to my Steve series, Cardigan. i recommend reading at least the first two parts of the main storyline (if you haven't already) for context before reading this!

i wanted to write more about the reader's relationship with joyce, bc i love her and love the whole dynamic between the byers and the hoppers.

November, 1983

Hopper inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring as he focused on the road. Gripping the steering wheel of his truck, he tried to settle his anger. His eldest shifted uncomfortably and glance over to him briefly. She knew it was probably best not dig herself even deeper into trouble, but she couldn't shake how he reacted.

“You were pretty rude to her,” Y/n mumbled.

Hopper scoffed and looked at her momentarily before shaking his head. Maybe he had been a bit harsh to Joyce, but what were they expecting?

“You broke into my office and stole confidential police files,” he seethed, beginning to genuinely wonder if his daughter understood the magnitude of what she had done.

“I was gonna put them back after,” she reasoned nonchalantly.

“That’s not the point, Y/n.”

She turned her head and rolled her eyes, Hopper had to count to ten in his head before saying anything further. Y/n had never caused trouble like this before. He knew her her whole life but he could hardly recognise the person she had become.

“And since when did you start hanging around the Byers?”

She hated when he did this. When he acted like he had a right to knowing every little detail about her. It might've been a month or so since he last passed out on their front porch, but nothing had changed. Not to Y/n, at least. She furrowed her brows in annoyance.

“Dad, are you serious?”

Y/n worked with Joyce at Melvald's for almost a year. Since then, she spent more time with her and her kids than she did with Hopper, though that was not saying much. In fact, it was easy considering she only ever spoke to him a couple times a week.

Hopper sighed. When it came conversations with her, he always found himself saying the wrong thing. Usually, he would go silent, but he could not bring himself to leave things as they were. If he was going to turn a blind eye to his daughter breaking and entering a police department, he had to at least understand why.

“That still doesn’t explain things,” he said sternly.

“I didn’t realize I was being interrogated."

She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes once more. Why was he choosing now to take an interest in her feelings? Why did it take breaking into his office? Hopper's frustration grew.

“Why are sticking your nose into this?”

His voice grew louder, but it didn't appear to faze her. She leaned her head back against her chair and groaned quietly. She didn’t wanna talk about it, least of all with him.

“You’re overreacting, dad.”

“Stop avoiding the question,” Hopper snapped.

“Well, stop talking to me like I’m a criminal," she hissed.

“Just tell me why, Y/n.”

“Because it’s awful!” She yelled, clenching her jaw as she finally faced him again. His expression softened. “... A-And it’s fucked up that a kid just goes missing out of nowhere, is then found dead and the little bit of family he has are treated like shit by the entire town.”

If they weren't outright ridiculing Jonathan and Joyce, they were speculating what they did or didn't do that led to Will's disappearance. While Y/n's relationship with the Byers never really went beyond her shifts at Melvald's and the handful of times she went over to their house, she knew them well enough to know they were the least bit deserving of any of it.

“You know I used to babysit Will. Sometimes even his friends too," Y/n explained.

It started off with Joyce needing an extra hand and Y/n needing some extra cash. Then, soon enough the other moms called for Y/n’s babysitting services here and there and somewhere along the lines she ended up being decently acquainted four of the sweetest, dorkiest boys in Indiana.

"They’re good kids, dad,” she sighed.

When the news of Will's disappearance broke out, Y/n couldn't keep still. Even when her dad tried to assure her he had his best people on the case, she couldn't leave it to chance.

Y/n shuddered, unable to forget the body bag they wheeled him in on. She should have done something sooner. Everyone in Hawkins should have.

"All I know is something’s not adding up,” she added. Hopper’s expression suggested maybe he had been thinking the same thing. “And Joyce isn’t the only who has a really bad feeling about all this.”

“Ok,” he sighed. “I’ll talk to Joyce tomorrow and… go over Will’s case again. But you have to promise you’re gonna keep your nose out of it from here on out.”

"I think we both know I'm not gonna do that."

"I'm not asking you, Y/n. I''m telling you."

Hopper stopped the truck outside the cabin and turned to his daughter. Maybe defying his rules was her favourite pasttime, but he could not let it slide this time.

"Fine," she muttered. "I'll keep my nose out of it."

Gritting her teeth she left the truck and trampled towards the house, with absolutely no intention of keeping to her word.

***

December, 1985

Y/n opened the locket and saw a photo of her parents holding her when she was just a few years old. She couldn’t recall ever seeing that photo before, just the negatives in one of the boxes in the cabin.

She looked up to see Joyce and El’s warm and expecting smiles. Suddenly, a lump came to Y/n’s throat.

“Well? What do you think?”

“I-I um….” Y/n cleared her throat. She didn’t know why she was feeling this way. All she knew was that she was far too overwhelmed to bear another second in that room. “I’m sorry, can I be excused?”

Before Joyce could ask her what was wrong, Y/n stood up from the couch and sped outside. She liked that it was warm in California. It meant that she could sit on the Byers’ front doorstep without the risk of frostbite.

Y/n held her head in her hands, kicking herself for making such a fuss over nothing. She wish she was better at accepting gifts and accepting love, but after the shitshow of a year she had just had, it was hard to remember how.

“Y/n?” Joyce approached the distraught ypung girl cautiously and sat down beside her. Y/n lifted her head and faced her. The older woman frowned. “Honey, I’m so sorry… if I overstepped getting you that gift.”

“No, Joyce,” Y/n shook her head. “You did nothing wrong. It’s just…”

She licked her lips and sighed. She hated the plethora of pity parties she had been throwing for herself recently, but there was no avoiding it. Sheepishly, she met Joyce’s gaze with glossy eyes.

“I haven’t had a family Christmas like this in a really long time, and it’s been a while since I actually got a gift from someone who… who wasn’t Steve.”

Saying his name still made her wince. That scar would be excrutiatingly slow to heal, just like everything else.

“And I…” Y/n huffed defeatedly. “I guess I just didn’t know how to feel or react.”

“Oh,” Joyce frowned. Her gaze softened as she placed a hand on Y/n’s shoulder.

While she was relieved she hadn’t upset her, it pained Joyce to even begin to imagine how hard things were for Y/n, especially when she was on her own. The young girl was damn good at pulling a brave face.

“I really like the locket though. I love it, actually,” Y/n assured her. She bit her lip nervously and sat with Joyce in the silence momentarily. “Thank you for having me over for the holidays.”

“Thank you for coming,” Joyce smiled. “It’s been a rough year and it’s been nice having a familiar face around. And I know El’s been missing her big sister since the move.”

“Really?”

Tension had been lingering between Y/n and El ever since she moved with the Byers. The entire plane ride frpm Indiana to California, Y/n´s stomach was in knots thinking of how different things with El would be.

“Absolutely,” Joyce assured her.

She saw the excitement on El’s face everytime a letter from Y/n arrived, as well as the deflated expression she took when the only person she wanted to vent to was on the other side of the country.

Joyce shifted to face Y/n. Between all the shifts she worked during the holiday rush, this was the first time she truly got to sit down with Y/n alone.

“Have you been holding up ok, Y/n?”

“Yeah, I-“ Y/n started to nod her head until she saw the way Joyce was looking at her. There was no point in lying. She sighed, her shoulder slumping. “…No. I haven’t.”

She groaned and wiped her teary eyes. Joyce rubbed her shoulder gently and stayed silent. Y/n wasn’t the only who avoided talking about him.

“I just… I miss him and I wish he were here, but I also…” Y/n inhaled sharply and looked up. “I feel really really angry. I’m angry at him for being so awful and I’m... I’m angry at myself because…”

She sighed and, much to Joyce’s surprise, let out a quiet sob. Y/n then furrowed her brows and shook her head regretfully.

“I can’t believe the last thing I said to him was that I wish he had died instead of my mom and sister,” Y/n whispered.

Maybe she had a right to be angry. Maybe the years of mistreatment and the Russian truth serum were partly to blame as well. Even so, she found it easier point the blame solely towards herself.

“And now…” Y/n let out a cry and looked down at her hands, unable to face Joyce. “Now he’s gone, and they’re still gone and all of you are in a different state and I can’t even talk to Steve anymore and I’m all alone and I…”

“Y/n,” Joyce’s voice was soft and steady, but her hand was shaking as she placed it atop Y/n’s. Finally, the young girl looked up. “Honey, nothing that happened that night was your fault.”

Her entire face froze. She didn’t realise how badly she needed to hear those words. Joyce pulled her into her arms and hugged her tightly. Maybe she couldn’t fix everything that happened to Y/n, but a nice meal and good Christmas was a good place to start.

“Let’s go inside and have some food, yeah?”

Y/n nodded and followed Joyce back inside to where Will, El and Jonathan had already set up the table. She felt her worries ease as she remembered Joyce’s words, and tried not to think about how much time she had before it wore off and she was back to wallowing.

***

January, 1985

It was New Years Eve, but the Byers house was quiet. Jonathan was out with Argyle, while Will and Joyce were fast asleep in their rooms. Y/n took the tub of ice cream she had bought earlier out from the freezer and grabbed two spoons from the kitchen drawer.

She reached El’s bedroom door and noticed the three inch gap. Her heart sank. She shouldn’t have waited so long to do this. Y/n knocked once on the door and then peeked her head in.

“Hey,” she said softly, smiling when she saw El turn around from her desk. Y/n knew she was still up. She held out the tub and the two spoons with a playful smile. “You wanna share?”

Instantly, El grinned and sat down on the bed with Y/n. The two of them at began eating the ice cream in silence. For a moment, it felt like nothing had changed. Like they were back in Y/n’s room. Like they were back together in Hawkins.

El nervously glanced up at her sister.

“Y/n,” she said quietly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” the older girl replied.

Y/n watched curiously as El bit ler lip and looked away momentarily. When she finally looked bacj at her older sister, she couldn’t stop the tears that formed in the corner of her eyes.

“Are you mad at me?” She asked. “Because I didn’t stay in Hawkins with you?”

The older girl almost choked on her ice cream.

“Wh- No! Of course I’m not-“

El tilted her head raised her brows, making an expression Y/n was famous for making countless times in the past. The older girl sighed.

“Ok, I guess I was a little bit in the beginning. But, now I get why you chose to come here,” Y/n admitted. “I think I wasn’t really angry, but just really sad that we were gonna be separated. It was like I was losing you too.”

The two of them frowned. El hadn’t considered Y/n would feel that way.

“But… there’s no way I could have looked after you the way Joyce has,” Y/n stated honestly.

El needed the normalcy and stability of going to school in California with Will and having family dinners and breakfast. Y/n would have never been able to give her that, no matter how badly she wanted her to stay.

“Even though it sucks being away from you, it’s nice knowing you’re not alone.”

At first the polaroids El sent with letters of them together left Y/n with a bitter after taste. But quickly enough, she learned to get over her ego and relish in the fact that El was surrounded by a family that loved her as their own.

“Is that how you feel?” El asked worriedly. “…Alone?”

“I don’t know, maybe a little,” Y/n mumbled. She noticed the concern in El’s expression and immediately shook her head and smiled weakly. “But, look… don’t worry about me. I’ll figure things out.”

The room went quiet. El scooped one last spoonful of ice cream before letting out a sigh.

“…I miss him.”

They reached the bottom of the ice cream tub, which only added to their sadness. El opted to lie down on the bed and Y/n followed suit. They stared at the ceiling and frowned.

“It’s hard to talk about him when you’re not here,” El explained. “Joyce is nice, but… it’s not the same.”

Y/n knew the funny things Hoppers did when it was just the three of them. Y/n was there when El slammed the door in his face for the first time because he refused to let her leave the cabin. Y/n was the one person she could vent to about anything and everything.

To Y/n, El could say nothing at all and still feel understood. There was no one like her.

“I know,” Y/n sighed. “I used to talk about him sometimes with Steve and Nancy, but… no one at home really understands how I feel.”

That wasn’t necessarily the worst part. The worst part was how hard they often tried to understand. With El, Y/n could vent to her heart’content and El would simply do the only thing Y/n wanted: she’d listen quietly and eat ice cream with her.

“No one here understands me at all,” El whispered.

Y/n frowned. She hated being apart from El, especially since it meant not being able to do anything to fix or change things. She reached out for her little hand and, instead, decided to take a page out of her book. Maybe they lived in different states now, but her flight home wasn’t for another week.

Y/n turned her head to El.

“I’m here.”

El let out a breath and smiled. She had so much to tell her.

***

March, 1986

Y/n handed Mike the envelope and the round tin container of baked goods.

“Ok, so the letter is for El but the oatmeal cookies are for Joyce,” she explained.

“Ok, got it,” Mike nodded.

Y/n noticed how his hands trembled. She placed her hand on his shoulder gently and smiled.

“Are you nervous?”

Mike shot his head up and felt his cheeks flush. He had been looking forward to spring break in California for so long, but now that his flight was only a few hours away, he felt anxiously restless.

“A little, yeah,” he aswered sheepishly.

“Why?” Y/n asked softly. “She’s been dying to see you, I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”

“Has she… said anything about me to you? You know, in her letters or when you went to see her.”

Y/n took her hand of his shoulder and walked around the counter. El told her a lot of things about Mike, but her lips were sealed.

“You know I can’t tell you, Mike.”

“Oh c’mon, why not?”

“Because,” Y/n began, donning a serious tone. “I’m bound to confidentiality by the most sacred of all oaths.”

Mike narrowed his eyes at her. She couldn’t be serious.

“Sisters don’t tell secrets is not a sacred oath, Y/n.”

“Oh, like you would know,” Y/n retorted.

Mike huffed when Y/n stood in front of him. She closed her eyes briefly and tried to ignore her pounding headache for just a few more seconds.

“Have a safe flight and say hi to her for me, ok?” Y/n asked softly as she pulled him in for a brief hug. “… Her and Joyce!”

Mike put the letter in his backpack before turning around and heading for the door. Maybe he would have to find out for himself what was going on with his girlfriend.

“I will,” he responded as he waved goodbye and left the video store. As the front door slammed shut, Y/n felt the pounding in her head return, only this time it was ten times worse.

***

i do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, translated, or reposted onto another site.

cardigan series taglist:

@littlepadfootmoony @geeksareunique @agustdeeyaa @ilovetaylorswift1 @babygirlwilly @rqmanoff @midnightsgetawaycar

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington #stranger things #imagines #x reader #x hopper!reader #hopper!reader #one shot #masterlist

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that-thing-that-feeling · 2 years ago

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I don’t know if you’ve answered this question before, but why do you think some characters have been so sidelined in the last season? Especially Will (my fav) in both s3 and s4; Jonathan in s4; and it’s not only the sidelining, it’s that they almost haven’t been written at all. Joyce in s3 and s4 just didn’t feel like a main character anymore, and after ST had exploited her popularity to hype s1? I kinda blame it on ageism tbh. Mike, a character I loved at first sight, has been going downhill since s3; he had a lot of screentime there but in s4 he’s not only sidelined but also, still, deprived of character development. I wonder sometimes what the Duffers are doing? I feel like they just don’t care about these characters, Will in particular and Jonathan in the last season. Sometimes I think that maybe they didn’t really know what to do with their characters but I know that can’t be true — they created these characters and they can decide to give them good arcs and screentime. Idk, it just really doesn’t sit right with me and it makes me question the Duffers’ capacity. This goes hand in hand with some very weird writing choices — have Will fall for Mike of all people just to, I don’t know, add unnecessary drama as if being gay in the ‘80s wasn’t already enough? Use his love to prop up a straight relationship? I just really don’t get it, and being queer myself, I felt kinda disappointed. And don’t get me started on the whole stancy storyline. Even if they felt the need to give Steve and Nancy (Steve in particular) some kind of closure, there was no need to bring the love triangle back in, even if they wanted to show Nancy and Jonathan struggling in their relationship (which was already showed in s3 and I thought it was great even though it seems most people found it boring). We didn’t get any Byers family scenes with El — I get that her arc this season required that she’d feel unloved/misplaced, but they could have given us anything, even Joyce reaching out and her not responding would have been fine; and later have Will and Jonathan say something too while she’s being choked by Vecna. Every time I think about these kinds of things to maybe find a reason why they decided to proceed like that, it just doesn’t make any sense to me. It’s their show, their decisions: they have all the power to write good storylines and actually give their characters meaningful narratives. Idk if I’m being too harsh, I have to say I really loved Max’s storyline this season and Lucas’ as well (another character that deserved more screentime and his arc had to be given more attention and depth). Generally, though, I feel ST has been a letdown. I can’t really keep my expectations high for the next season.

There’s a lot here, but “I feel like they just don’t care about these [i.e. some] characters” gets at it I think. Instead of writing for each character consistently and somewhat equally, they both developed clear faves, the faves tended to turn towards comedy and changed the tone and focus of the show, and they kept bringing in new characters, while sidelining multiple OGs. It really makes no sense.

I’m still mystified by how much they’ve sidelined the Byers family, though. They bring such heart, but it feels like part of shifting the focus of the show away from subtle character moments. I agree a lot of the writing choices have been v baffling! I really hope there are real Byers fam and Byers-Hopper fam scenes in s5. And more equal character writing and plots across the board.

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italiansteebie · 2 years ago

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He is Broken, But he Hides

Also on AO3! (Recommended)

Steve chokes on his breath. He had just landed on Eddie’s stained mattress, right after Nancy. He huffs out a quick excuse that he’s going to the bathroom, and everyone is too busy focused on Nancy to really pay attention. Except Robin, as hard as it is for her to tear her eyes away from the mousy brunette, she catches Steve’s grimace in the corner of her eye.

She follows him to Eddie’s bathroom, knocking on the door so softly, she can barely even hear it, “J-Just a sec.” a weak voice calls out from the other side of the door, and Robin swears she can hear the faintest sniffles. Against her better judgment, she pushes open the unlocked door, really hoping that Steve isn’t peeing or something. What she sees is worse.

Steve is hunched over, a hand pressed against his stomach, teeth clenched as he tries to stop the bleeding that had resumed after he’d landed. She gasps, which catches the attention of Eddie, the rest of the group still asking Nancy questions about her time with Vecna. He walks over and catches Steve's eye, “You okay, Harrington.”

Steve immediately puts on a brave face, removing his hand and sitting up straight, “Oh yeah. I’m doing just fine,” He grits out, trying to conceal the pain in his voice. And maybe Eddie doesn’t know him that well, because he believes him, and joins everyone else in the living room. Robin though, she caught on to Steve’s little games after they were simultaneously tortured.

She puts a hand on his shoulder, which startles him out of whatever trance he was in, because he lets out a harsh gasp. “Oh. Hey Rob. I thought you left with Eddie,” She shakes her head, “Steve I know you too well to fall for that fake shit. What’s going on?” She asks gently.

He removes his hand that had gravitated back to the wounds, “They’re still bleeding. But. I’m fine, seriously. I just came in here to get some, like toilet paper or something to help soak the blood.” She sucks her teeth in sympathy as she watches Steve grab a wad of toilet paper and shove it roughly down the makeshift wrap. He smiles tightly, trying to mask the pain the action had caused. “Okay that’s it, Dingus.”

She helps him off the toilet where he was sitting, and walks him out to the living room where Nancy is still regalling her experience. Robin clears her throat beginning to say something, and Steve slaps a hand over her mouth, shushing her. Eyes are on them now, as Robin glares at Steve and pushes his hand away. “Dingus needs a hospital.”

Steve gapes, “No, no. I don’t. Robin just thinks that because she's… I dunno. But. I’m fine!” he insists. And Robin is done with his shit, so she gently squeezes the side of Steve’s abdomen, which shoots pain all over his body, and he crumples to the ground. Robin feels a little guilty as she mutters, “See? He. Needs. Help.” And Steve being a stubborn jackass shakes his head in protest again. She helps him up, and Dustin is by his side immediately, “Robin is right!” he agrees, to which Robin throws a “Thank You!” at him.

“Okay. Well you all still need to figure out this Vecna stuff. And, Well. I want to help.” Steve stutters, “Dingus, you can’t help if you’re dead,” Robin bargains. Steve’s face drops at this, and he opens his mouth, and closes it again, gaping like a fish. He shrugs, and rubs a hand on his shoulder. “Me and Robin’ll set up a base camp at my house. My parents aren’t home, so no one to ask questions, right?” He sighs deeply before continuing, “And we’ll help guide you guys. Be a safe place?” He suggests.

And, well. No one can really argue with that. Base camp is a necessity during these events. So they agree. And head to Steve’s to start forming a plan. By the time it’s all set out, and done, it’s been days. The California crew is back in Hawkins, and not too much later, Joyce, Murray, Hopper, and some random guy, are walking through the front door of Steve’s house. The adrenaline from the battle is wearing off, and base camp isn’t an easy going job when you think about it. So seeing real adults come in, and knowing the kids are going to be safe, Steve drops to the floor.

Everyone around is caught up in their reunion until El points a finger at Steve whose head is being cradled by Robin, who tried to cushion his fall. She runs a hand over his forehead, brushing the hair away. “We gotta get him some help.” She whispers, and Hopper kneels down beside her, “How long has he been going?” and she shakes her head, “I don’t know. Uh. A few days? Maybe three?” She questions. Hopper curses, “Alright people, let's load up. Anyone else hurt?” They all shake their heads no, to which Joyce sighs in relief.

They get Steve in his car, Joyce and Hopper in the front, and Robin in the back holding Steve’s hand, scared. Murray deciding to stay with everyone else at Steve’s. Arriving at the hospital, Steve is coming to, and he’s kind of freaking out. Robin notices fast puffs of air coming from his lips, and a small whimper slips out too. “No. NO!” He starts coughing, and convulsing, like he’s drowning, and suddenly his eyes flash open. He rolls to the door and opens it just in time for bile to spill its way out of his mouth. “Oh god. That was disgusting.” He says, sitting back up and taking in his surroundings. “Where. Are we?” He asks slowly, “The hospital,” Hopper answers gruffly. Steve’s eyes almost bulge out of his head, “What?! No, why?” He asks frantically.

Robin grabs his hand, in an attempt to calm him down a little, and it seems to work. They get out of the car and move slowly towards the entrance. Robin never lets go of his hand, and he never lets go of hers. Walking to the desk, Steve answers a few questions, like his birthday, his middle name, and his social security number. He also slaps his debit card down, telling the nurse not to bill his parents. She sighs but reluctantly agrees, eyeing Joyce and Hopper, who say nothing.

It’s an hour before they call him back, and they say he can only have one person, his eyes immediately find Robin’s, who nods and stands with him. Going back to the room, the doctor is in almost instantaneously. “Alright, Steven,” She says to which Steve quickly replies, “It’s just Steve.” And the doctor nods, “Okay. Steve, let’s take a look, shall we?” As she moves to unwrap the makeshift bandage, carefully picking out the blood soaked toilet paper that he’d forgotten he put in there. The doctor breathes slowly, “Okay. Can you tell me how this happened?” and at the same time Robin says, “Dogs!” Steve says, “I tripped.” They make uneasy eye contact.

“Well, I. I tripped running from some dogs, and they attacked me,” He stutters out, and the doctor gives him a weird look, but continues on anyway. She continues examining, “Well, you don’t show any signs of rabies, but I want to go ahead with the series of shots anyway. It also looks like you could use some stitches.” And his breath hitches.

Robin takes notice and grabs his hand once more, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles, “It’s okay, Steve. I’m right here.” she assures. The doctor leaves for a moment to gather the supplies, and directs Steve to lay back on the table. Robin helps guide him, and stays by his side til the doctor arrives again with the needle, the stitch thread, and 4 syringes. Steve squeezes his eyes shut. Trying to keep his breathing under control as the doctor starts, “Okay. I’m going to numb you for the stitches really quickly. Take a deep breath in for me, hon.” Steve does as he’s told, turning his face so he’s looking at Robin instead of anything else. He feels the needle slide in, close to the tender wounds, and he squeezes Robin’s hand tightly. She hears his breath hitch. “You okay, Stevie?” She asks, and he nods. She takes her free hand and brushes the hair off his forehead.

“You don’t have to lie Steve. I’m your best friend, you’ve seen me cry so many times. I’ve literally snuck into your house after a nightmare!” She tells him, and he nods slowly. A few tears slip down his face as the doctor continues, “Okay, I'm going to begin stitching, it should only take a few minutes.” He takes another deep breath, preparing himself.

He feels the push and pull, and tries not to focus on it, Robin notices his breathing getting faster, and tries to distract him. “Did you know I was in choir for a while?” She asks and Steve shakes his head, Robin doubts he’s even listening but she continues anyways. “Well, you thought Tammy’s bad. You should’ve heard me. Talk about muppet, right?” and Steve huffs out something of a weak laugh, and this calms Robin’s frayed nerves. “At least his humors still intact,” she thinks a little bit hysterically.

“Okay, dear. I’m going to start with the injections. One is going to go in your biceps, in each arm. One is going to go in your thigh, and because of the location, one will go in your back. We will do that last.” She informs, and a few more tears run down Steve’s face. “I’m going to start now, please sit up, and roll up your sleeves,” he does so with shaking limbs. Robin helps him, she can see how hard his fingers are shaking. She sees his eye locked onto the needle the doctor guides to his arm, and she guides his head to rest on her shoulder.

He shamelessly buries his face, and as the needle slides in, she can feel the warm tears soak through her shirt. The doctor moves on to his other arm, and then thigh, and then directs him to lay on his stomach. “Rob.” He croaks, and she bends down to meet his eyes, “I can’t, I’m sorry. I- I can’t do it.” He whimpers, breathing getting fast. The doctor stands, “Steve, dear. You have done so well for the first three, I trust that you will be just fine.” She reassures. Steve nods, signaling for her to just get it over with, and she prepares the last needle. Steve reaches forward, grabbing for both of Robins’ hands, squeezing them tight. “Take a deep breath, dear.” The doctor warns, and despite his best efforts, his whole body tenses up.

Robin moves to rub his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension as the doctor presses the needle to his back, in line with his spine. “Oh fuck.” he groans as the device pierces his back and the medicine slowly burns throughout his body. “Fuck. Stop, please. I can’t. I can’t.” He sobs, face down on the examination bed, tears ripping the paper.

Robin tears up, hearing her best friend's agony, “It’s okay, Steve. You’re done.” Her voice wavers as she speaks, and the doctor stands back, snapping offer gloves and placing the used devices into the bodily hazards box. Robin helps Steve sit back up, and hugs him as he breaks down, right then and there. She rubs his back, hoping it’s providing comfort, but it seems to just be making it worse. “Sorry.” She whispers, stopping the motions, “No. No. It’s. Nobody's ever been there for me like this.” He says sadly. The doctor gives him a somber smile and says, “You did well, Steve. You are lucky you have the support from your friend here.” She says, waving a hand at Robin.

The two friends look at each other and smile, Robin squeezes him tightly one more time, before helping him off the bed and walking with him back to the lobby. They meet Joyce and Hopper, both of which start fawning over him, hands fluttering making sure he’s patched up well, and a gruff voice saying they’ll get him home.For a while after this, the makeshift family spends most of their time at Steve’s, who finally feels at home in his house. He knows he’s lucky to have such a supportive family.

#steve angst #steve harrington #Steve centric #best friend robin Buckley #Steve and robin are best friends

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mediocre--writing · 3 years ago

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hiiiiiii :D

i’m going to give you both a harringrove and a kegboys thing

harringrove: the mindflayer didn’t kill billy and billy spent months recovering. when he was let out he didn’t speak to people. but steve was the only one capable of holding onto the patience enough for billy to eventually start talking to him. billy gets a job at a slow business convenient store/gas station. and steve meets him to have lunch together outside in the back every day.

kegboys: steve had a pine tree at the front of his house with a yellow ribbon for barb. and one year billy cuts it down without knowing about its significance. steve eventually finds out what happened and tommy had to take him to the other room before telling billy what he’d done. they spend the day making steve feel better by getting a brand new tree and retying a ribbon even bigger than before.

oooooh these are both so good.

Harringrove: I think that, especially after Steve's whole fiasco with the Russians, he doesn't mind the quietness that comes with Billy. Doesn't mind waiting for him to speak because Steve himself does't really know what he would even say.

Steve's parents, after his 18th birthday, pretty much never came home. They had like seven other houses elsewhere and Steve was his own functioning adult, so they, frankly, didn't give two shits. So Billy stays with him. Plus, Steve's got no job after the mall burned down and his parents are still paying for the house and everything, it's not like it's much of an issue.

They bond in a silent way. Billy can't talk. Like physically, for the first three-ish months, can't get his voice to come out in any understandable fashion, as having a tentacle forced down his throat pretty much ripped at every bit of skin there.

But they communicate. Steve is used to his lonely life in a mansion and just appreciates another body being there that makes it not so lonely.

They function around each other. Whoever gets up first makes the coffee, whoever goes to sleep last turns the main lights off. Whoever opens the clean dishwasher has to empty it and whoever tracks the most snowy footprints in has to mop next.

The first time Billy really talks to Steve is after a nightmare. But not from Billy (he's become really good at controlling how loud his whimpers and crying can get, even asleep [fuk u neil🖕]). Steve is pretty much screaming bloody murder in his sleep and Billy can barely get up the tall staircase as it is, but mixed with sleep and his rush, he slips a few times trying to get to Steve, thinking something is really wrong.

By the time he bursts into Steve’s room, Steve is sitting straight up in bed staring at the blurry light while trying to catch his breath. Billy cautiously walks up to him, flips on a lamp light so there wouldn’t be any in-the-dark scares for Steve, and sits across from him on the edge of the bed.

Steve ultimately just collapses into Billy’s chest and sobs and sobs and sobs until he’s got it all out and the only thing that can be heard are Steve’s unsteady breaths and Billy’s reassurances. It’s the softest Steve thinks he’s ever heard Billy speak to anyone.

Steve starts sleeping in the guest room downstairs with Billy after another incident when he starts screaming occurs because it wears Billy down a lot to battle the stairs (his muscles are worn thin and he has very little strength these days). Steve stirs in his sleep but hasn’t panicked like that since he started cuddling with Billy.

Joyce eventually pulls some strings and gets Billy a job at Melvald's (small town business start picking up after Starcourt burning down) where he can just sit in a chair at the front and check people out. Occasionally she’ll have him stock small things like keychains or the snacks at checkout.

Steve visits most days during Billy’s break time. Brings take out from Benny’s or leftovers that Mrs. Henderson insisted on dropping off every other week because the boys “needed good, homemade food that they wouldn’t make for themselves.”

Billy has never felt more taken care of in his life and enjoys the gentle breeze when he and Steve chat behind Melvald’s and eat, sharing what’s happened during the few hours they’d spent apart or discussing what their weekend plans would be. Maybe what they were hungry for for dinner that night.

One day, when they’re eating a tuna casserole straight out of the Tupperware Mrs. Henderson had put it in, a stray cat comes and kneads gently at Billy’s thigh, over his jeans, and he puts a bit of the casserole on a napkin for the small kitty.

It becomes a routine and eventually he brings out a can of cat food from the store to feed the cat when he takes his breaks. They call her Melly (after Melvald’s, of course) and eventually she finds a way to sneak into the Camaro and becomes a full-fledged, sassy, rude house cat that has to sleep in the bed with the boys every night or she will scream her little cat scream and scratch at the door until they let her in.

Kegboys: (ok I tweaked this just a tad bc I couldn’t find a reason for billy to just chop down a random tree) Steve planted the tree after she’d passed away. He didn’t know how to feel about it. He felt awful, of course. He goaded her into drinking with them just because he wanted Nancy and look where that got him. He basically killed a girl and he lost his girlfriend.

He plants this tree, it’s thin and just taller than he is, but every year, after winter ends and plants bloom again, he ties a beautiful yellow bow around the thickest branch near the trunk. He looks at it every morning through the window, the small pine tree at the end of the driveway.

Only Tommy was there that night, the night a few weeks after it had all “ended” (the first time) and Steve breaks down. Sobs like he never has before, talking in fragmented sentences about how he’s to blame, he killed Barb out of teenage ignorance and because he wanted to have sex with Nancy Wheeler. What a fuckin’ waste.

Tommy is actually the one who suggests they plant the tree in the first place, a life now gone for a life yet to live. Steve takes care of that tree like if it died, he would too.

Steve ties a ribbon on it the first year. Tommy adds a second the next year.

Nobody else really cares. It’s a tree, not a giant portrait of the girl, for crying out loud. Nobody says anything about the bow that gets put on the tree because nobody would put together that the tree represented Barb, it’s just a tree to everyone else.

Billy wasn’t around for the beginning. He knew that a girl close to Nancy and Steve had died, sure, but he hadn’t known that it was in Steve’s pool and he never knew about the pine tree that grew at the top of the driveway.

There was a storm, a big one right at the tail end of summer, one that ripped up plants and trees and shingles off of houses, flooded the ditches and low points in the town.

Billy takes it upon himself to try and fix the Harrington’s trashed yard once the storms let up. He rakes away all the pine straw that had descended and piles up all the large branches and debris. There’s a tree, the pine tree that usually stands tall at the end of the driveway, that was severed at the base, only a mere three or four feet still protruding from the ground, the rest split and resting, half connected, on the ground.

Billy breaks off the part that was already off, puts it in the pile with the rest of the debris.

The stump stays at the end of the driveway and Billy goes inside, walks up to Steve and Tommy in the living room after washing his hands and grabbing some water. Tells them that he straightened up the yard.

“And that tree at the end was broken, so I picked off the part left hanging and put it on the fire pile. I figure we can find something else to plant in it later this week or--”

He’s cut off by Steve jumping off the couch and running out of the front door. He stands a few feet away from the stump left over and falls, bare knees hitting the still damp and muddy ground as he shows no other reaction.

Tommy’s right behind him, holds his shoulders from behind as he stares at the tree. Billy, from behind Tommy, doesn’t ask a question but stares confusedly at the boys who seem distraught by the disappearance of a seemingly meaningless tree.

Gentle coaxing, “C’mon, Steve. It’s alright, it’ll grow back and we can buy more ribbon, I promise, but you have to come inside, you’re all muddy,” from Tommy convinced Steve to come inside.

With no care for how his mother would react to her perfectly white rug being ruined by the dirt, Steve trudges through and eventually lays on the couch, cradling a pillow to his chest while Tommy promises to make him something warm to drink.

He beckons Billy into the kitchen with him as he puts the kettle on the burner, enough water for all three of them to have tea, and turns to Billy.

“Why’s he so upset about a tree?” Billy didn’t mean for it to sound harsh or inconsiderate, he was just curious why Steve seemed so distraught over a pine tree that was nowhere near as tall as the ones that were around the house.

“Ok, so, you know Barb, the girl that died here?”

“She died here!?”

“You didn’t know?”

“Well nobody talks about it, how was I supposed to know?”

“You should--Nevermind, anyway, she died here because of the whole other-world-monster-guy and Steve blamed himself for it, for, like, ever,” Tommy rested his elbows on the counter, “So, when he finally told me about it, we wanted to do something for her, like a memorial thing, anyway, we decided on a tree and he always ties the yellow ribbon around it and he takes care of it like it’s a child, but it’s gone so--”

“--He feels like he let her die again. Like it was his fault,” Billy concludes.

“Yeah,” Tommy assures before turning to the cupboards and pulling down three mugs, pouring the hot water in before placing tea bags in each.

“I mean, is there anything we can do? I feel awful, but the tree was already snapped, I couldn’t have like mended it or anything. I swear it wasn’t intentional,”

“You wouldn’t have known, it’s not your fault. I think Steve just feel a little out of his own mind at the moment, like he lost the hold he had on her. I really don’t know,”

Billy and Tommy stayed on the couch with Steve that day, they just rested and drank tea, listen to soft music on the radio, and took care of the droopy brunet.

They didn’t replace the tree. They let the old one stay and made sure to take excellent care of it. They’d tie three ribbons on the tree every year, made sure they were tied tightly, the tree growing faster and more prosperous than before, and Steve was better.

He realized that sometimes you have to get cut down before you can really unveil your true potential, that a little extra love can do wonders.

#idk if the last one is really what you wanted but it was kinda all I could come up with #harringrove #kegboys #keg boys #Steve harrington #Tommy h #Tommy Hagan #billy hargrove #stranger things #mediocre—writing #mw harringrove

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kohanayaki · 4 years ago

Text

Caught in the Middle (Steve Harrington x Reader x Billy Hargrove) Ch 8

Holy shit, it’s been so long since I’ve looked over this story! I found a half completed draft of this chapter in my old files and had a sudden influx of inspiration to finish it. At the very least I wanted to release this chapter, even if I don’t end up continuing or finishing this story. Thank you to everyone who’s read this trainwreck so far <3

LINKS: CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

_______________________________________________________

Ch 8 .:Three Runaways and a Russian:.

“Hopper?”

The surly man turned to you with a look of equal surprise.

“(Y/n)? What are you doing here?” Hopper asked, eyes narrowing, “Hold on, aren't you supposed to be in school?”

“Aren't you supposed to be at the police station?” you countered.

He sighed in exasperation and shook his head.

“Listen, kid, I don't have time for this,” he said.

“Well what are you doing?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he said crossly.

“Uh, that doesn't look like nothing,” you said, pointing over to the Slurpee machine where a man with dark curly hair and glasses was inspecting it in wonder. He was handcuffed but still held a large empty cup in his left hand, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the frozen drink move in circles on the inside of the machine.

“He's an extremely dangerous criminal,” Hopper said, “I'm. . . transporting him.”

“Okay, then why is Joyce here?” you asked. She was standing next to the unfamiliar man trying to show him how the dispenser worked. At that moment she turned to Hopper only to make eye contact with you.

“(Y/n)?” she said, eyes wide.

“Hi Mrs. Byers,” you waved awkwardly. What the hell was going on here?

“You got her mixed up with this too?” Joyce chided Hopper, her expression hardening as she walked over.

“I didn't get her mixed up in jack shit,” Hopper said incredulously, “She just doesn't know how to mind her own business.”

“Yeah, I'm right here, guys,” you said in annoyance, “And sorry if I 'intruded' but you're in a 7-11, not your office, so if I see a guy in literal handcuffs I'm going to poke around because that's suspicious and you know it.”

Upon seeing you point at him the man in glasses smiled at you, waving as much as he could while his hands were restrained. He then went back to fiddling with the Slurpee machine and you walked over to him, taking the cup from his hand.

“You have to press down on it,” you said, holding the lever down and filling his cup with the cherry flavor. You stuck in a straw and held it out to him which he accepted with a wide grin, nodding his head.

“What's your name anyways?” you asked him.

He just tilted his head, spluttering slightly as he turned to Joyce.

“His name is Alexei,” Joyce clarified.

“Hold on, does this guy not speak English?” you asked in disbelief.

“Uh, n-no,” the man said, able to read some context from the tone of your voice, “No English.” His words were followed by him speaking in a foreign language and making gestures with his hands.

“I'm sorry, where the hell did you find this random Russian guy?” you turned to Hopper for an explanation.

“Top secret police business,” he said, frowning, “Butt out.”

“So I'm not allowed to know about this 'top secret police business' but Joyce is?” you crossed your arms.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Hopper raised his voice.

“I'm just implying that some favoritism is being applied when it comes to breaking your precious rules,” you scoffed.

“Trust me, kid, you have no idea what the big picture looks like right now, okay? A lot of shit went down when you were gone that you couldn't even begin to imagine. This is dangerous.”

“I'm not a kid anymore so don't call me that,” you glared, “And if this is so dangerous then don't I deserve to know?”

“No,” Hopper said coldly, “Now listen to me and drive your ass back to Hawkins High before I have you turned in for truancy.”

His words made the situation painfully ironic when you all turned towards the front of the gas station as the roar of an all too familiar engine rang out. Billy's blue Camaro skid to a harsh stop as he climbed out of the driver's seat, running over to the door as he saw you through the glass. Once you got over the initial shock your mood soured as Billy made his way inside.

“(Y/n) I have to talk to you-”

“Save it,” you glared at Billy, cutting his sentence short, “Hold on, did you follow me?!”

“Please just hear me out,” he said, a rare crack of desperation in his voice, “Listen I'm-”

“What? You're sorry?” you scoffed, “You're not sorry. You clearly didn't give a shit about me from the beginning, so if you think everything's going to go back to the way it was after some half assed apology then think again.”

“What the hell is this?” Hopper asked Joyce off to the side.

“Lover's quarrel,” Joyce whispered back, “Just let them talk it out.”

“Well if you won't let me apologize then what the fuck do you expect me to do?” Billy said in frustration.

“Nothing!” you shouted back, “Don't talk to me, don't talk about me, just move on to your next little conquest and you'll forget all about this in a week.”

You felt a sharp pang in your chest as the words left your mouth. You didn't want to believe them but you felt like it was true. There was no changing Billy Hargrove, and even if there was, why would you of all people be the one to be able to do it? You weren't anything special, but Billy felt the exact opposite.

He didn't get the chance to say anything back, though, because at that moment the sound of a second car engine was heard as you saw Steve's car pull up to the gas station.

“Oh, you've got to be shitting me,” you groaned.

Steve was panting as he ran inside to the gas station, barely catching his breath before speaking.

“(Y/n), I wanted to-”

“I'm sorry, I thought I made it clear that you two are the last people I want to talk to right now,” you said coldly.

“Wait, hold on, what's going on here? Why aren't any of you at school?” Joyce asked, coming to the realization it was 12:34 on a weekday.

“I broke some stupid guy's nose, it's a long story,” you mumbled, “What I didn't expect was these two idiots following me.” You glared at them, trying to put as much distance between you two as you could.

“I was worried about you,” Steve said, causing Billy to roll his eyes.

“Oh please,” Billy scoffed under his breath.

Steve's expression hardened as he turned to Billy.

“Hey, you don't get to say shit,” he said, “You're the one who led her on and made her cry in the first place.”

“Led her on?” Billy's voice rose as he go in Steve's face, “Listen, pretty boy, if I remember correctly I beat the shit out of you a little less than a year ago. You asking for a rematch?”

“Yeah, maybe I am,” Steve glared, “Because I'm sick and tired of you treating my friend like shit.”

“Oh, 'your friend', huh?” Billy chuckled, “Bet you wish you were more than that, don't you, Harrington?”

“Both of you cut it out!”

Something in you snapped as you forcefully separated the pair, keeping them on opposite sides of the isle. Silence blanketed the rest of the convenience store as you spoke.

“I never asked for either of you to follow me here,” you said, feeling a wave of emotional exhaustion take you over, “As a matter of fact, I asked to be left alone, so you two need to get that through your thick fucking skulls because this is seriously the last thing I need right now.”

Alexei just stood innocently by, wondering what all the yelling was about and if he could do anything to help.

Through all the commotion none of you noticed the way Hopper was staring out the convenience store window, his stomach dropping as he saw a tiny figure on the road drawing nearer. Upon closer inspection he could see the silhouette of a man on a motorcycle.

“Get down,” Hopper said suddenly, not taking his eyes off the man.

His words made you freeze, all your senses on high alert as you could feel something was wrong.

“Wait, what?” Steve said in confusion.

“I said GET DOWN!” Hopper shouted, pulling you and Joyce to the floor just as a gunshot rang out and the windowpane shattered into pieces. Shards of glass fell onto your shoulders as you ducked behind one of the isles and panic quickly settled in.

You could feel Hopper dragging you further away from the door, your body frozen in fear.

“Listen to me, you need to get the hell out of here, all of you,” Hopper said.

“Hopper, what the fuck is going on?” you asked, your hands shaking.

“I don't have time to explain,” he said quickly, “Joyce, get them to Murray's house as fast as you can.”

“What about you?” you said, “If you think we're leaving you here like some shitty action movie you've got another thing coming.”

“I'll buy you some time,” he said, “And besides, he's after me, not you, but that doesn't mean he won't shoot you if you get in his way. Do you understand? Get out of here!”

Before you could say anything back Hopper was thrown back against the wall by a muscular man in a leather jacket. Joyce immediately grabbed you by the arm and started pulling you away along with Steve and Billy. You could hear them yelling but it felt like you were hearing things underwater. Your heartbeat pounded rapidly in your ears as you turned around, every nerve in your body shouting at you to run.

Your heart nearly stopped as another gunshot rang out in the store and the tile cracked beneath your feet as the bullet landed a mere few feet from where you'd been standing seconds earlier.

“Don't you dare, you son of a bitch!” Hopper growled as he tackled the man to the floor, getting a few solid hits in. The man grunted as his back harshly met the ground, his head slamming into one of the shelves. As Joyce turned you around again to get out you could only pray that Hopper would be okay.

“There's no way we can fit everyone into one car,” you said as you neared the exit to the parking lot, “Where's Hopper's police van?”

Joyce looked off to the side.

“Oh, um, it's. . . on fire in the middle of the woods.”

“It's what?!”

“I promise I'll explain everything to you once we're safe,” Joyce said, “Right now we need to figure out how to get everyone out of here.”

You turned over your shoulder and winced as the man landed a solid hit to Hopper's gut, knocking the wind out of him and making him stumble back into a rack of chips. Hopper grunted in pain but immediately fired back with a punch of his own, his right swing hitting the man square in the jaw. Hopper took the chance to follow up a knee to the man's gut, knocking him down with one last hit, although he knew he wouldn't stay down for long.

As Hopper struck him down you caught a flash of silver fly out of the man's jacket pocket and skid across the floor. You stared at the keys for a moment before your gaze flew up to the Harley parked outside the gas station.

'This is a stupid idea,' you told yourself, but in the moment it was the best you could do.

“Take my car,” you said to Joyce, tossing her your keys, “I'm jacking his ride.”

Joyce, Steve, and Billy looked at you like you'd just sprouted wings.

“Oh no you're not, it's way too dangerous,” Joyce said, incredulously, “He'll be close enough to shoot you if you make a run for it now.”

“I'll go around the outside,” you said, “If Hopper keeps him distracted I can make it.”

“Have you ever even ridden a motorcycle before?” Billy tried to reason with you.

“As a matter of fact I have,” you said, your eyes narrowing. You didn't mention the fact that it was just one time with your dad years ago but hey, you were a fast learner.

“Just trust me on this,” you said, “Think about it, even if we do manage to get out of here he'll catch up to us in no time on a motorcycle. If we take his transportation away he won't be able to find us again, or at least it'll make it harder.”

Joyce swallowed hard, shaking her head.

“I can't believe I'm about to let you do this,” she said.

“I'll see you in ten seconds,” you promised, “Get everyone in the car and we'll pick up Hopper on the way out.”

“Be careful,” Steve said, and despite you still being mad at him the life or death situation compelled you to say:

“You too.”

And with that, Joyce started to lead everyone outside to the parking lot towards your car.

You forced down any doubt you had in your mind and took a deep breath before running towards where Hopper and the man were fighting. You slid to a stop as you snatched the keys off the ground and made a break for the front of the store.

The man seemed to notice what you did as he snarled and reached for his gun, but Hopper was too quick. In one swift movement he knocked the gun out of the man's hand grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, throwing him as far away from you as he could.

You thanked Hopper silently as you put the keys in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. Your heart pounded in your ears as you leveled yourself on the motorcycle. You spotted Hopper out of the corner of your eye as he sprinted towards the store front, Alexei practically flying behind him in his grip. The Russian let out a small yelp as Hopper threw him unceremoniously into the backseat of the car, his body sprawled across Billy and Steve.

“Floor it, Joyce,” Hopper huffed, scrambling into the passenger's seat.

She didn't need to be told twice. The smell of burning rubber drifted past you as the tires squealed, all the passengers forced backwards at the force of the sudden jolt of speed.

You leaned into the turn as you moved to follow the car, daring one last glance over your shoulder at the man in the leather jacket. He threw what remained of a shelf off of his shoulders as he staggered to his feet, his expression terrifying as he stared you down. With a deep breath you turned to the road, quickly catching up with your Jaguar and leaving the infuriated man behind.

“Woah woah hey, my fucking car is still back there!” Billy shouted as you sped away.

“Really, that's what you're concerned about right now?!” you shouted over the wind, tempted to reach around the car and slap him. Your focus was forcefully pulled back to the road as you felt the cycle waver, quickly adjusting your weight as you tried to get use to the feeling. You were suddenly acutely aware of the helmet you weren't wearing. You took a long draw of breath in through your nose as you tried to calm your buzzing nerves, your knuckles white as you gripped the handlebars.

“Alright, Hop. You wanna tell me what the hell that was about?”

Taglist: @in-my-dreams-2000 @ggclarissa @iris1697 @5sosxgrethan @ohnoniella @sarcasticalphaofthelooserspack @aspiring-fangirls-world @wow-im-so-tired @hopesxxhigh @justanothercrazyassfangirl @too-many-lanes @whimsylavender @bish-ima-clown @amarachoren @mosiacbrokenheartstf @mcuvlxgs @xapham @metuel18 @immirandaq @nellaphine @multi-madison @gingertalksshit @jojo-buttercup @kyberhearts @mvdelaine @minnie-marvel @caitlin-rose28 @zandaleekrz @r3inventedd @void-fire-rose @macymafia @wanna-be-idle @newtsshelbys @kimmydespell @weyheyokay @r4ttusr4ttus @cynthianokamaria @spookyartisanmuffineggs @youcanstandundermyamberella @ashadowoftheforest @shrektiledysfunction @arithatonegirl @banannie25 @daddyuwuss @truthdaze @supervoldejaygent @gigi-maria-argu @dolan-mendes @mavix @reflectionsofyouruniverse @angelsarefalling @billyhargrovescigarette

#stranger things x reader #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #billy hargove x reader #stranger things season 3 #Billy Hargrove #steve harrington #reader insert #x reader #jim hopper #original characters #fanficton #stranger things fanfiction #alexei smirnoff

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psychdelia · 4 years ago

Text

season 3 but instead of billy, neil was flayed.

he had been acting... off the last couple of weeks. distant and withdrawn, completely the opposite of how he usually is with billy.

he first notices the difference in behavior when the abuse stops. maybe he gets home late for dinner and instead of the usual stern look he gets before a smack when max and susan go to bed, neil just smiles all big and wide, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, before he welcomes his son home.

then neil starts coming home later and later, giving susan some bullshit excuse about work and overtime and she eats it right up. chooses to believe that he’s somehow morphed into the perfect husband and father overnight. on top of that, he smells like bleach and chemicals and his eyes seem so dead. billy can tell what the guy is thinking or feeling through one look at his expression, but now he’s just eerily blank.

so billy follows him on 4th of july, surprised to find himself in the starcourt parking lot for the second time that day - he dropped max off earlier to hang out with her shithead friends, but it’s past closing hours so she shouldn’t still be inside unless she’s at the movies, the only part of the mall that remains open late. he watches as neil marches into the mall, fists clenched at his side. billy has no idea why neil is even at the mall so late when he should be at work or wherever he’s been going and lying to susan about. so, he follows him in.

he doesn’t know what to expect, but seeing his little sister and her gaggle of friends screaming as neil gets closer and closer to them. squinting, billy can see black veins crawling their way up neil’s neck, discoloring his face and eyes. he jumps when he hears the first bang, the sound of a firework exploding way too close for comfort.

then he spots it. the huge slimey alien being that screeches when the first firework hits it, then second, third, and so on.

and like. what the fuck.

his eyes must be as wide as saucers as he stares at the thing, gangly and screeching with every hit, trying to swing at anyone it can reach. he doesn’t have time to process what the actual fuck he’s looking at when he hears someone yell his name. max.

“billy! BILLY!” she screams, absolutely terrified. “DO SOMETHING!” she demands.

immediately, his eyes search for fireworks. looking up, he finds harrington on the second floor in matching work uniforms with a girl - buckley, his brain distantly provides. they had the same ap literature class. the fireworks get louder and louder along with the monster. he eventually finds a small kiosk set up for the 4th, so he follows suit and grabs his lighter, blindly throwing at the monster as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. his father approaching a girl around max’s age with a maniacal expression on his face, eyes about to burst out of his goddamn head. he hears the kids screaming in protest to no avail. pretty soon, they run out of fireworks and his dad’s got this girl beneath him on the floor.

he’s about to intervene when the girl lets out this piercing scream, almost louder than the shadow, and suddenly his father is thrown up in the air then launched right at the monster. he’s caught mid-air by a tentacle - wait a goddamn second are those human body parts??? and teeth????? - right in the center of his chest. billy flinches, watching in horror as his father screams in pain before he’s dropped onto the floor, head smacking the tile before he goes limp.

it feels like the world goes still for a second, everyone standing still, eyes wide and mouths open in shock at the scene before them. distantly, he hears the monster screeching, but his eyes are locked on his father’s body - torn open and bleeding out. what eventually brings them all out of their stupor and back to the real world is the same girl standing and screaming at the monster, merely feet away from the thing. her hand is shaking in the air, nose dripping with blood as the monster’s screeches grow quieter, its body shrinking. soon enough, it hits the ground just like his father. limp and silent.

billy just watches the scene unfold, his mind racing yet completely blank. he knows he should move, grab as many little shits as he can and run, but he’s stock still, unable to process what he just witnessed. ironically, it ends up being the kids who run to him first.

“billy,” max calls as she reaches him. “billy!” she grabs his shoulders, shaking him until he acknowledges her. “billy we have to go. now! come on billy let’s go!” her hands are shaking as she grips his shoulders.

he blinks a couple of times before he nods once, then again.

“shit!” he hears harrington yell, footsteps approaching them as the two teenagers run down from the top floor right before it comes crashing to the ground. soon enough, the mall is falling apart, the ceiling caving in.

billy finally kicks into action, wild eyes and expressions matching everyone else’s as the teens drag the kids out of there, the group sprinting outside in time to watch the mall crumble to the ground with his dad’s body trapped in it.

he doesn’t know how much time has gone by when ambulances, fire trucks and police cars appear. he’s stuck in place as parents reunite with their children while paramedics check on everyone, wrapping heavy blankets around them. billy manages to sneak off to the side, hiding behind an ambulance. he spots max with sinclair and susan, harrington with buckley, girl and boy wheeler close to the three byers, accompanied by the police chief.

billy’s alone, he realizes. he looks back at the mall, now in flames and taking his father down with it. his hands and legs begin to tremble and he’s sliding down the side of the ambulance, unable to breathe as he hits the floor. hugging his knees to his chest and holding his head low, he takes in short breaths and ends up wheezing, unable to get enough air into his lungs. he doesn’t realize he’s crying until his vision is blurred and cheeks are wet. he’s hyperventilating and is pretty sure he’s about to black out.

billy’s alone.

everyone here has someone and he doesn’t.

his mother left and now his father is gone and he doesn’t, can’t understand why. yeah, neil was abusive and cruel but he was all billy had left. he lost his friends, the ocean, his life the second neil ripped him away from california and dragged him to a state where he knew he’d get hurt if neil caught him with a boy again like in cali, except this time he knew it wouldn’t be just neil pounding on him for his “sickness.”

billy misses his mom. wants nothing more than to be held and comforted by her. to hear her soft voice as she sings or hums or shushes him as she rubs his back and plays with his hair and kisses his head and tells him everything’s going to be alright.

except everything’s not going to be alright and now he’s sobbing silently, soft whimpers and harsh wheezing being the only noise leaving his body.

with the rest of the world tuned out and only hearing his own choked sobs and sharp breaths, he flinches when he feels the hand on his shoulder, trying to scramble away from it.

“hey,” the soft voice says. “its okay. hey, kid, it’s okay. it’s just me.” she immediately pulls her hand away, holding both up to prove herself as unthreatening. “just me.” she repeats gently.

billy slowly raises his head, eyes and cheeks red and blotchy and puffy and wet. he finds exhausted, sad brown eyes looking over him.

“oh, kiddo, you look like you’ve seen hell.” she sounds motherly. “c’mon, breathe with me. take deep breaths, okay? count with me.” she encourages as she kneels down to his level. “deep breaths. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, breathe. in and out, just like that. you’re doing good.”

pretty soon, his wheezes and rushed breaths even out. he takes his first deep breath of fresh air, releasing a shaky relieved sigh.

“you must be billy, max’s brother. i’m joyce, jonathan’s mom.” she introduces, except neither of them are in the mood for small talk. “i, uh,” she sighs. “there’s a lot we all have to talk to you about,” she sits down beside him. “but that can wait,” she assures. “until you’re ready.” she adds on quietly.

he stares at her a couple seconds before he breaks again, a strangled loud sob ripping its way through his chest and out of his mouth. he doesn’t even think about it before he launches himself at her, fully prepared to cry to this woman he’s barely met yet spent hours knocked out cold on her ground only after breaking one of her nice plates.

she - joyce - seems to have the same idea because as soon as he starts crying again she’s opening her arms and reaching for him. they meet halfway in the middle.

“it’s not fair.” billy chokes out, trembling in joyce’s surprisingly strong arms as she holds him upright. “it’s not fair.” he repeats, louder yet more broken.

“i know, sweetheart.” she nods, rubbing circles on his back with one hand, the other gently running through his hair. “god i know.” she sighs and, poor woman, it sounds like she’s been through it. he vaguely remembers hearing about her sons - zombie boy and creepy byers. his brain isn’t processing enough to connect any dots just yet.

“she-she just left,” he holds onto joyce tightly. “she left and now he’s gone.” he cries. “he’s gone.” he repeats, again and again. “they all leave. why do they all leave?” he asks weakly.

joyce’s heart breaks for the boy shaking apart in her arms, using her last remaining strength to hold him upright and provide any comfort she can. she can’t help but look around, searching the crowd for anyone who might be there for him. she frowns when she finds everyone’s eyes on them yet no one making any moves to approach. she wishes she could hate them all a little bit for it, for leaving him alone. letting him feel alone and unwanted. unlovable. she knows the feeling and it’s the worst.

“well, blondie, looks like you’re stuck with me now.” her attempt to make him feel less lonesome seems to work, just a little, if the way he squeezes her for a second is anything to go by. “i don’t give up. i don’t leave. i promise.” she kisses the top of his head, gets the scent of hairspray, cigarettes and ash.

over the top of his head she finds steve harrington still watching them, a distant look in his eyes. he seems conflicted, staring at billy with wariness as he bounces nervously from foot to foot, holding the blanket hanging loosely around his torso.

he seems to make a decision when billy releases another sob at her promise, striding over and draping his blanket over billy’s shoulders. he goes out of his way to tighten it around him, making sure it’s comforting and cozy around his trembling figure. he hesitates once again as he goes to walk away, fist clenching and unclenching at his side before he looks back to billy with sad, tired eyes and rests his hand on the blonde’s shoulder, squeezing just once before he walks away. the same hand is nervously flexing at his side once again.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #this is not good nor accurate by any means do not expect much pls #crybaby billiam rights #i love love love joyce and billy #and i hate neil hargrove so this works out lol #fuck u neil #rip neil but i’m built different #anyways i had a bad day and cried so i projected and made billy cry 😌☺️#this hc has also been in my mind for a while and i knew i wouldn’t write it for ao3 so here it is hdjsjsj #joyce byers #my writing

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stevie-wicks · 3 years ago

Text

red, black and blue

She’d taken the photo in some empty parking lot in downtown LA, sunlight two years younger glinting off the hood of the Camaro. Billy’s moustache was still a couple of stray gold whiskers on his upper lip; his hair just past the tips of his unpierced ears. A different Billy to the one Hawkins had seen, but post-California Billy hadn’t had much time for Max’s amateur attempts at photography. Or for Max, in general.

“It’s a good photo.”

Jonathan Byers was not a formal wear kind of guy. He looked stiff and uncomfortable in his ugly suit- or maybe that was just an extension of how he was feeling. How they all were.

Max wrapped her hands around her elbows, suddenly regretting resisting her mother’s attempts to usher her into a jacket. “Thanks. I know he looks- different.”

Jonathan looked for a moment like he might offer her his ugly coat; then he probably remembered the uglier shirt he wore underneath. “He looks happier.”

“He was.” Max dug her nails into her skin. “He hated it here.”

Jonathan shoved his hands into his pockets. “Listen, Max; I know it’s not- it’s not really the same, but when I- when I thought Will was gone, I-” He swallowed. “Will is my best friend. I know that sounds really lame, but I just thought that. Maybe you’d feel better, or, I dunno. I know what it’s like.”

He was trying so hard. Max almost felt bad for him. “I don’t think you do.”

She’d wanted to sit next to Lucas, but her mom hadn’t. Some murmured nonsense about Neil not liking it; some louder nonsense about how they were a family and that now, more than ever, they had to stay together.

El became the compromise.

Not that Neil was gung-ho about El, either; not with the oversized flannel and suspenders she’d refused to change out of. Light blue eyes bore a hole into the side of Max’s head as she shuffled into the pew next to El. They weren’t the same shade of blue as Billy’s; he’d had more green to his, more like Max’s own. Neil’s were like ice chips.

A bony hand reached over, and Max looked up at Joyce Byers’s warm brown instead. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she whispered.

Stupidly, Max said, “He owed you a plate.”

El stirred. “I owe him my life,” she said quietly.

The last funeral Max had been to had been for some distant Mayfield relative. She’d been six and she’d cried all the way to Glendale because she was missing Jabberjaw. Then Dad bought her an ice cream and she’d forgotten all about Jabberjaw. She fell asleep halfway through the service, and they got home in time for Speed Buggy.

Billy’s service took half as long and felt an eternity longer.

Mom had offered to do a eulogy. She’d brought it up over breakfast, nervous eyes darting between Max and Neil, as if either of them would put up a fight. She tottered to her feet now, shuffling awkwardly to the front, in a dress a few laundry cycles short of being grey. For a fleeting moment, Max wished she had put up a fight. Billy would’ve died-

Max bit her cheek hard enough to taste copper.

Mom cleared her throat. “Billy and I didn’t know each other for very long, but I wish we had. He was a wonderful young man.” She dabbed at her eyes with a ratty handkerchief.

Max sank back into her seat. Maybe it was for the best; she could never lie about Billy the way her mom did. Not when all she could think of was the blood- God, so much blood, his blood- his last scream torn out of his chest by misshapen claws- apologies on a dying breath-

She stood up. Mom paused midway between some crap about Billy’s ‘respect and responsibility’.

“Maxine,” Mom said, mortified.

“I have to go.” She tore outside, knuckling her burning eyes.

The breeze nipped at her skin. She leaned against the wall, rubbing her hands up her arms. It was mid-July, for Pete’s sake.

She should’ve worn the stupid jacket.

She wiped at her face roughly. When her vision cleared, Lucas stood in front of her.

“Your mom’s done talking, if you wanna head back inside.” He kicked at a pebble.

Max kicked it back. It skittered away, just out of Lucas’s reach. “Not really.”

He squared his shoulders. “Mind if I join you, then?”

She shrugged. He hesitated for a moment before sidling up next to her, arms barely brushing.

“Steve’s giving his speech now.”

Max’s eyebrows reached her scalp.

“For the basketball team,” Lucas clarified, then added, a little awkwardly, “None of the other guys showed up.”

It shouldn’t hurt, but. “Yeah, well. Didn’t think Steve would, either. He hated Billy’s guts.” She dug her heels into the gravel. “You all did.”

Lucas fell quiet. “I didn’t hate him.”

Max snorted. “’Cause you’re not supposed to hold grudges over people who are-” She blinked back a fresh wave of tears. God, Maxine; you’re such a goddamn girl, Billy would’ve said. “You should. He was awful to you.”

“I didn’t hate him,” he repeated. “I mean, he scared the shit out of me, sure. But still. He was your brother.”

“That’s not an excuse. And he was my step-”

“He was your brother.” Lucas had turned on his side, fully facing her now. “And I know you lo- cared about him. And I’m trying to tell you that it’s okay to cry.”

Her eyes welled with tears. She hadn’t allowed herself to; not since Starcourt, not since she’d read the twenty-eight other names in the paper, not since she’d come home in an ambulance and her brother in a casket and Neil locked up Billy’s room and tore down everything else that had belonged to his son and threw it all in the trash like he’d been waiting to get rid of it-

Lucas held out an arm. Max buried her face in his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt and turning it translucent with her tears.

She cried long enough for her tear ducts to run dry, and then stood sniffling into the wet shirt. She was probably making it all gross with her snot, but she didn’t let herself get too torn up about it. The Sinclairs could afford a washing machine.

“Maxine.”

Max went rigid. Lucas, unbothered and oblivious, kept his arms around her. “Hey, Mr. Hargrove.”

She turned around slowly, just in time to catch the flicker of revulsion that passed over Neil’s face. “And who are you, boy?”

There was a painful pause. Max’s nails carved crescents into her palms.

“Lucas Sinclair, sir,” Lucas said at last.

Neil’s eyes were glacial. Max barely suppressed a shiver when they trained on her. “Maxine; something you learn when you grow older that there are a certain type of people in this world that you stay away from. And this boy?” Neil cut his gaze to Lucas. “This boy is one of them.”

Max reeled back. “I-”

“You stay away from my daughter, Sinclair; do you hear me?” Neil hadn’t raised his voice once since he’d started speaking. To any passers-by, this would look like a normal conversation. “Stay away.”

He didn’t wait for Lucas to respond, tugging Max away with a harsh grip on her wrist. She didn’t dare to turn around.

“I don’t want you anywhere near that boy, Maxine.” His hold loosened the closer they got to the car- Neil’s car, a respectable Ford sedan. She didn’t dare tug her hand free, either. “I hope you learn your lesson with this. Billy didn’t; not at first. I’m afraid I had to use more- forceful- methods with him. I trust I won’t have to do the same with you.”

Max turned to Neil despite herself. It was the first time he’d said Billy’s name since the Fourth of July.

His eyes gave nothing away. “Do I make myself clear?” His fingers tightened again.

“Yes, Papa.”

“Good.” Neil’s smile was a mirror of Billy’s; shark-like and vicious, moments away from tearing into your throat. “It’s about time you got some new friends, too. Girls your age shouldn’t be hanging around with boys too much.”

“El’s a girl,” Max told her shoes.

Neil scoffed. “Really? Did she show you proof?”

What happened to you, Mad Max? Billy would’ve asked. You’re not going to stand up for your little hick friends?

Or maybe-

I had to use more forceful methods with him - the bruises she’d see on Billy while his own knuckles remained unscathed- Mom whisking her away on impromptu shopping trips whenever Neil and Billy raised their voices- forceful methods -

- maybe he would understand.

★

Billy’s life couldn’t have fit into a garbage bag.

Max hadn’t gone into his room since she’d gone with El, but he had to have more than what Neil had thrown out onto the sidewalk. Outside the four walls of his room, it was like Billy hadn’t even existed.

She slipped out of bed in the quiet.

Billy had taught her how to pick a lock, back in California. “Use a hairpin, or somethin’- you got one of those?”

She unfurled her fingers. The hairpin was damp with sweat. She wiped it on her t-shirt, and slid it into the keyhole.

“Keep your big ears close to the door; you won’t hear squat that far away.”

She held her breath, pressing her ear to the cool wood.

“Wait for the sound- there, you hear that? That’s how you know the tumblers are in place.”

The door swung open with a soft click.

Max half expected to be assaulted by cigarette smoke and hair metal. But it had been almost a week, and all that Billy had left behind were stale air and silence.

She flicked on the flashlight. The blinds were drawn, the bed unmade, half his closet on the floor. Air the room out, and you could pretend he’d walk right in.

His schoolbooks balanced an ashtray; the desk was not for studying. Instead, he’d cluttered it with beer cans and tapes and a tree’s worth of loose-leaf.

She padded over and sat down in his chair, trying to imagine him hunched over the desk, scribbling on page after page in messy letters. Billy’s handwriting was just as angry as he was.

Her eyes flickered over song lyrics- snippets from the racket she’d been forced to sit through every weekday morning and afternoon. Somehow, silent car rides had lost their appeal.

Strange little doodles decorated the margins- band logos and cars and anatomically inaccurate depictions of women. “Gross,” Max said aloud, pushing the papers away with a theatric shudder.

The tabletop had not been exempted from Billy’s artistry; Max shone the flashlight on more band logos and cuss words and names engraved into the wood. Here there was a crude AC/DC logo, the lightning slash extending down to form the ‘t’ in ‘TWAT’. There was a ‘María’ right next to that, the accent mark angled in the wrong direction. Max remembered her; she’d gone out with Billy for all of sophomore year- the longest Max had ever seen him go out with one girl. She’d taught Max how to do makeup.

A few paces away was Tina- the prettiest girl in Hawkins High, everyone agreed- Laurie was a slut, but she’d complimented Max on her hair- and then Karen. Max traced the ‘K’; she didn’t know any Karens who went to Hawkins High- but then again, she barely knew all the kids in the middle school. There could be a pretty blonde cheerleader somewhere, talking to her friends over the phone. “Yeah, I went out with him a couple of times,” Max imagined her saying. She’d twirl a strand of hair around her finger, lips pulled down in a pout. “And now he’s dead. Spooky.”

She knuckled her eyes. The beam of the flashlight caught on the letter S.

She held the flashlight up, frowning at the name that made itself obvious. Stevie- except the ‘i’ was jammed haphazardly between the ‘v’ and the ‘e’, like it had been an afterthought.

She stared at it until the light flickered overhead.

“Shit!”

Max dropped the flashlight, head snapping back to the door. It hung ajar, just as she’d left it. Heart in her throat, she inched towards the doorway.

The hallway light flicked on.

Max held the flashlight close to her chest, knuckles bone-white and stark. She stepped outside, and the light turned on in the living room.

When she stood in the doorway, staring out at the lifeless room, the telephone started to ring.

Her feet felt heavy as cinderblocks. She plucked the receiver from its cradle, bringing it to her ear with shaking hands.

From the other side, someone breathed heavily.

Max pressed the phone closer, hard enough to hurt. “Billy?”

A crackle of static. Some peculiar noise.

Apologies on a dying breath.

Then, “Max.”

ao3

#stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #tw: death #tw: mentions of child abuse #tw: racism #max mayfield #billy hargrove #steve harrington #lucas sinclair #harringrove #lumax #el hopper #joyce byers #post season 3 #stranger things 4

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firemanwhenthefloodsrollback · 3 years ago

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Who Saved The Day? Season Four

Welcome to the fourth instalment of Who Saved The Day? in which I'm working out who, numerically, saved the day in the most episodes of Buffy. As the totals list is getting quite long now I'll just put the characters who have more than one point here to summarise where we are at the end of season three:

Buffy: 32

Angel: 5

Giles: 4

Faith: 2

Willow: 2

Xander: 2

Now that we're out the end of season 3 we've said goodbye to Angel so I don't imagine he'll get many more points. let's see where the totals go in season four - one of the most varied and (if we're being cruel) all over the place seasons, so I'm not at all sure yet what we'll find.

1. The Freshman: Buffy

Emotional moment in an otherwise average episode when the class protector award inspires Buffy to come out fighting and kill that mean vampire with a tennis racket.

2. Living Conditions: Giles

Hard to call this one as Buffy certainly does a lot, but I'm going with giving Giles the point here because he put Buffy's soul back into her body in the nick of time.

3. The Harsh Light of Day: Buffy

Removing Spike's jewellery counts as saving the day in this episode.

4. Fear, Itself: Buffy

Giles might arrive with the chainsaw but Buffy does the stomping.

5. Beer Bad: Buffy

Off topic but what was this episode friends? Buffy saves Willow and Parker from the fire but, a far more important victory, she gets Parker in the head with the club and honestly that deserves the point infinitely more.

6. Wild At Heart: Oz

Look I know Buffy tranquillised Oz after he ripped Veruca's throat out, but how could I not watch Oz kill Veruca to defend Willow and not give him the point. I love you Oz.

7. The Initiative: Willow

Weird episode? I'm not sure who the villain was, really, because Spike and the Initiative both come across as a bit useless here and I didn't feel a lot of threat. Buffy fights the initiative soldiers but doesn't accomplish much, so Willow gets the point for hitting Spike with a lamp.

8. Pangs: Buffy

Buffy stabs the bear. Angel was maybe less helpful than I'd have hoped for his grand return.

9. Something Blue: Willow

Another episode like Doppelgangland where the person who caused the trouble ends the trouble, but I'll take that. Another point for Willow and side note, this is one of my absolute favourite comedy episodes they ever did.

10. Hush: Buffy

Riley may have destroyed the box but Buffy did the scream, so the point is hers. Also I'm not inclined to rule in Riley's favour more than I have to. That's just me declaring my biases.

11. Doomed: Buffy

You don't dive into the Hellmouth and get deprived of a point.

12. A New Man: Riley

Riley? Idk. He arrests Ethan while Buffy is fighting Giles by mistake so sure Riley, have a point. Ethan's still cooler than you though.

13. The I In Team: Buffy

Buffy fights the demons and makes a cool speech, winning her the point.

14. Goodbye Iowa: Buffy

Not really an episode in which the day was saved but Buffy came out of the fight with Adam best of everyone there.

15. This Year's Girl: Buffy

Flawless episode. Flawless episode in which nobody won. I had absolutely no idea who to give the point to here because Buffy fully loses here. This is the hardest episode so far for me needing to pick someone who saves the day every time. Buffy fighting Faith keeps Joyce safe and gives her some time to call the police? It doesn't do anything good long term but she gets the point because no one else does.

16. Who Are You: Tara

Look this one was hard. Willow and Tara do the spell to conjure the device that switches Buffy and Faith's bodies back, and I think they deserve credit equally but my stupid rules that I came up with don't let me do that. Tara is on top of her game this episode and she really drives the plan working so she gets the point, but I'm really splitting hairs to give it to her over Willow. Maybe I should give it to Willow. Maybe I should give it to Buffy. Idk.

17. Superstar: Jonathan

Jonathan pushed the demon into the pit so he gets the point. Yeah, I feel weird about it too.

18. Where The Wild Things Are: Anya

Anya and Xander earned the point equally here, but my rules won't let me give them both the point. Season four is the hardest one by a long way to choose who gets what. I'm going with Anya because she saved Xander in the bathroom and seemed more in control of the situation in general, but I'll hear arguments for why it shouldn't be her.

19. New Moon Rising: Buffy

What an emotionally complex episode. Buffy rescues Tara from Oz and then rescues Oz from the initiative, so it's Buffy all around here really. The only thing she couldn't save was my heart.

20. The Yoko Factor: Buffy

No one saves the day. The day is not saved. But Buffy leaves at the end with the intention of saving the day and that's honestly... all we've got here. I don't know. Please argue with me here I have no idea.

21. Primeval: Buffy

Everyone did the spell but Buffy did the Matrix.

22. Restless: Buffy

My heart's darling. You can tell from my url that I love this episode. Buffy is everything here and no one else gets a look in.

And that's season four! More morally complex than I remembered and also a lot of episodes where no one wins anything. I'm more open to being argued with here than for any of the previous seasons because this was hard.

Totals at the end of season four:

Buffy: 43

Angel: 5

Giles: 5

Willow: 4

Anya: 2

Faith: 2

Oz: 2

Xander: 2

Other people who only got 1 each: 8

I'm excited for season 5 because I think things are going to get intense.

Read the rest of the series if you would like to! my intro post, Season 1, Season 2, Season 3, Season 5, Season 6, Season 7

#buffy #btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy meta #season four #who saved the day series

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housewarningparty · 3 years ago

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how to live here!

here's a special deleted scene that was supposed to go in one of the chapters after rachel and chloe start fighting, but i never really found a place where it made sense. but i always liked it too much to delete it.

The first time Chloe had talked about hanging out in a junkyard, Max had kind of assumed she’d been joking.

She’s been here a few times already since her return to Arcadia Bay, but the novelty of it still hasn’t worn off. Chloe doesn’t seem to mind, letting her wander off, camera in hand, to explore and take photos by herself until she’s halfway through a roll of film and finally satisfied.

Max lets the sound of breaking glass lead her back to Chloe and snaps one more picture. Chloe, broken off hockey stick poised at the highest arc of a big swing, aimed at the sun-bleached head of a mannequin perched atop a splintered milk crate like a fucked up golf ball on a tee.

The arc of the swing is completed. The head goes flying with a sharp crack, landing in a pile of scrap a few feet away. Chloe holds the stick up over her head and cheers.

“You get that, Max?” she calls over her shoulder. “One for the highlight reel.”

“Got it,” Max confirms, reaching up to withdraw the Polaroid as it’s ejected from the camera. She closes the distance between them to show Chloe the shot.

“Sick,” Chloe says, and then twirls the stick in her fingers. “Y’know, I never used to allow press in here before, but maybe that was a mistake. A few more like that and maybe I can finally catch some attention from the big leagues.”

“I can’t imagine they can ignore skills like yours for very long,” Max grins, leaning up on her tiptoes and craning her neck to try to spot the mannequin head in the garbage.

Chloe grins again and mimes another swing. “Wanna take a shot? Ride out my hot streak?”

“I’m good,” Max says.

Chloe nods and shrugs and swings again abruptly, for real, putting the end of the hockey stick through the screen of a boxy old TV on the ground suddenly and loudly enough to make Max jump.

“You sure?” She props a boot on the corner of the TV to hold it in place as she yanks the stick loose. “It’s hella cathartic. You’ve always struck me as having more rage than you’re willing to own up to.”

“Do I really?” Max asks, a little alarmed.

“Maybe I’m projecting,” Chloe concedes.

They wander further, Max trailing behind as Chloe beats the ever-loving shit out of anything even vaguely breakable in her path.

“Remember when you actually played?” Max asks, after the fifteenth minute of uninterrupted smashing.

Chloe pauses, turning on her heel and drawing the bandage on her arm across her forehead to wipe away a bead of sweat. “Oh hell yeah. They called me The Destroyer.”

“No they didn’t,” Max rolls her eyes. “Only you called yourself that.”

“Me and both our dads,” Chloe points out. “Yours even made a sign.”

“Oh yeah,” Max laughs. “Y’know, I think you were the hockey hooligan kid he always wanted. I couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or relieved when I quit the team.”

Her dad was a huge hockey fan and had been elated when she and Chloe had agreed when he showed them the newspaper ad he’d found seeking players for the local youth hockey team. William and their mothers had been a little more hesitant, Max remembered, but no one enough to really object to their joining.

Chloe took to it immediately, aggressive, competitive, and already more naturally athletic than Max had ever been. Max’s tenure was only a week long, but she’d remained a devoted fan of the team long after, going along with her parents to every game, home and away.

“Relieved, I think,” Chloe speculates. “You were a really small twelve year old.”

“I was appropriately sized for twelve,” Max protests. “You were tall.”

“Pint-sized,” Chloe teases. “Microscopic. Besides, you never had the heart for it. The bloodlust.”

“I liked the skating part. But yeah, you always had more fun with it than me. Did you ever get back to sports?”

Chloe shakes her head, quick and jerky, almost offended. “I never liked sports. I liked hockey ‘cause you guys would always come to my games and stuff. But then…after…”

Chloe missed the first couple weeks of practice, after William had died. It was Max’s dad that got her to go back, at Joyce’s insistence, hoping that the sport could be an outlet, that trying to preserve as much normalcy as possible would help Chloe deal with her grief.

Max and her dad had stayed in the bleachers through that first practice without William. Chloe’s play had been sloppier, and she’d left the ice early, face splotchy and red, thick hot tears running down her face into her jersey. It hadn’t gotten easier from there. It made sense that Chloe had stopped going entirely once Max’s family had moved.

“Anyway, can you even imagine me playing for Blackwell?” Chloe scoffs, brings the hockey stick down on the windshield of an old beat up car. The first blow sends a spiderweb of cracks all through the glass. The second penetrates, a small, fist-sized hole. The third, fourth, and fifth obliterate it completely.

Max closes her eyes, chases the images of a young, grief-stricken Chloe from her mind with this new fantasy. Chloe, hair undyed, strutting through the halls in a red and white letterman jacket. Chloe doing keg stands with Logan and Zach. Chloe with girls like Victoria and Juliet hanging off her arms. Chloe completely and totally ignoring a nerd like her.

“Okay, it’s a little weird,” Max admits, feeling a little embarrassed for the irrational churning in her gut. “You’ve never really been a joiner, huh?”

“Organized sports are so not punk rock,” Chloe says obnoxiously.

“It’s kind of hard to imagine you at Blackwell at all,” Max admits. “I wish I’d come back sooner. Y’know, before you left.”

Chloe’s quiet and Max knew it was a risk to go there at all, but it feels too true to keep to herself so she keeps speaking.

“I didn’t choose to be gone, but,” is it brave or stupid to do this now, actually? Has Chloe been waiting for an apology or will this just make things needlessly awkward and uncomfortable and painful? “I mean I wish I’d handled it differently. That we’d talked more while I’d been away.”

“Yeah,” Chloe shrugs. It feels like Max is on the verge of losing her, so she hurries on before the silence between them stretches too far.

“Can I be honest with you?” Max asks, stomach twisting in knots.

Chloe raises an eyebrow and nods for her to continue.

“I kind of thought,” she pauses and winces. “I mean, I was a little afraid that after I left you just. Wouldn’t want anything to do with me. That you’d replace me.”

“Max, what the fuck?” Chloe lets the words out in a harsh exhale and Max knows that tone of voice. Knows she’s pissed off for real, now.

“I know,” Max cringes, scrubbing a hand down her face. “But, I mean, you were always the cool one, right? And you were going into high school and I was still sleeping with a teddy bear and—”

“This is such bullshit,” Chloe’s voice cracks and Max was not expecting that. “You’re not just— You can’t just replace a best friend! I fucking needed you. I was so… I needed you so much and you hung me out to dry because you were scared I’d stop thinking you were cool?”

“No,” Max hurries to clarify, feeling appropriately breathless for the desperate, drowning sensation overwhelming her. “No, not like that. I just… I didn’t know how to handle it. So, I just kept putting it off, y’know? Like with homework. Remember how many times my mom had to bail me out because I’d wait too long on finishing a project and it wouldn’t be ready by the due date? Only no one could bail me out this time. And the longer I waited, the worse I felt, the more sure I was that you hated me, that you’d scream at me and tell me to stay out of your life. And I was too scared to face that so I…”

“I never hated you,” Chloe says, face caught somewhere between fury and despair. “Fuck, for the longest time all I wanted was to leave here, to be where you were instead.”

“The night you called me,” Max cuts in gently, proud at least when her voice doesn’t shake, “when you tried to run away, I was so scared for you. And I felt guilty because I realized I was wrong, that you still wanted to be my friend, and I knew I didn’t deserve it. I cried myself sick on the ride down with my mom to pick you up. It really freaked her out. But when we got there you just hugged me and you let me hold your hand the entire way back to Arcadia Bay.”

Chloe stays silent, chewing her lip hard enough to make Max wince.

“And even after, even though we were talking again the entire time I was away I’d think about being back here instead. I think about all the years I missed with you and I get mad because it feels kind of like my fault. Like if I’d tried harder it wouldn’t have taken this long. But I can’t fix that now, I know, I’m just glad we’re here now.”

Chloe shakes her head, rough, and throws the beat up hockey stick into a pile behind her. “Max, you fucking—”

She cuts herself and stomps over and Max isn’t sure what she was expecting, but she’s definitely surprised when Chloe wraps her arms around her, drags her close until there’s almost no space between them.

As tight as the hug is, Chloe’s hands hovering over her back are gentle. She’s quiet but her breathing’s rough. It takes a long time for her to speak again; when she does her voice is shaky, quiet. “I never, ever hated you, but I was pissed at you for a really long time.”

“I’m sorry,” Max tries to say but Chloe squeezes her tighter until she falls quiet.

“I got tired of it,” Chloe says. “And it wasn’t fair, either. Not really. We were just kids. God, I fucked so many things up so much worse than that. You don’t know how bad. If you did, you’d think I’m so pathetic. You’d hate it.”

“Chloe Price, you’re so many things, but pathetic has never been one of them,” Max insists, a little startled by the steel in her voice. Chloe tenses in her arms, but doesn’t move away so Max continues, gentler, “I wish I’d been here more. I know you weren’t alone the whole time but still, if I could go back and change anything it’d be trying harder to be a bigger part of your life. It’d be not letting it take so long to get here.”

It’s stupid, she knows, it’s ridiculous to think she could have prevented any of the hard knocks Chloe had taken in her absence but the thing is she’ll never know and Max thinks that she’ll probably always feel responsible somehow.

“God, imagine if we’d had a few years together at Black-Hell,” Chloe says and releases her, finally. She stays close, pushes some hair out of Max’s face. “We would have gotten into so much trouble. Me, you and…” She trails off with a wince but doesn’t linger. “You could have cheated off my science papers. I’d trade you rides around the Bay for homework.”

“Hey,” Max laughs. “Presumptuous. How do you know I would have compromised my morals like that?”

“Oh, you would have,” Chloe says, laugh all low and breathy. “When have you ever been able to say no to these baby blues?”

She bats her lashes facetiously, but the blush staining Max’s face is very real. “Okay, whatever. What else would we have done?”

“Oh, pranks,” Chloe says. “No doubt. We would have pranked it up so hard on those nerds. I always had this idea about semi-permanent hair dye and Victoria’s shampoo bottles, but I never lived in the dorms. And for some reason, Rachel refuses to be my inside man on this one.”

“I’d be down,” Max blurts out, not sure what the sudden pained look on Chloe’s face could have been leading to, but desperate to head it off.

“Wait, for real?” Chloe asks, appropriately distracted and Max realizes suddenly that her hypothetical assent to collusion had just been offered in practice.

“Uh, I mean—”

“No take-backs,” Chloe crows, gleefully. “Holy shit, dude, yes. Okay, I’ve got it worked out pretty well, this is something I’ve been sitting on for a few years at least. First, we’ll need a distraction…”

Chloe’s plan is elaborate, but thorough, and by the time she’s done laying out the details Max isn’t sure she’ll be able to follow through, but she does know that whatever lingering doubts about their friendship she’d had this morning were founded in one-sided insecurity.

“Let me sleep on it,” she says, finally.

“Max,” Chloe whines. “You promised.”

“I did not.”

“I mean, practically.”

“No, I didn’t.”

It’s almost like being a kid again, arguing about something pointless under the midday sun, a little dehydrated but having too much fun together to do something sensible like go back inside. Max has missed this for so long.

She’s deliriously happy she won’t ever have to miss it again.

#life is strange #pricefield #how to live here #ask games #explosionfic

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sinceileftyoublog · 4 years ago

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30 (Technically 34) Albums We Loved That Happened To Come Out in 2020

So much has already been said and written about this cursed past year, but a few good things came out of it, including the music. Album-wise, like many before it and many to come, it was an embarrassment of riches. But even with so much time on our hands to devour new tunes, it was often old favorites, songs of comfort or familiarity that garnered the heaviest rotation. For many artists, too, it was a year ripe for revisiting or reissues of old material, looking at existing songs with fresh and new perspectives. Simply put, with so much to listen to, new and old, the prospect of ranking a finite number of albums felt not only daunting, but frankly a bit stupid. Maybe we were late to the game, but 2020 taught us that music should and can be appreciated in multiple contexts, not limited to but including when it first came out and when it was heard again and again, even if years later. The records below--listed in alphabetical order--happened to be released in some form in 2020, whether never-before-heard or heard before but in a different format. And the only thing I know is that we’ll be listening to them in 2021 and beyond.

Autechre - SIGN & PLUS (Warp)

The legendary British electronic music duo surprise released SIGN a mere month and a half after its announcement and then PLUS 12 days later. The former was a beatific collection of soundscapes that belied the band’s usual harsh noise, while PLUS embraced that noise right back, drawing you in with the clattering chaotic burbles of opener “DekDre Scap B” and lurching forward. -Jordan Mainzer

Against All Logic - 2017-2019 (Other People)

The perennially chill ambient house artist Nicolas Jaar had a busy 2020, as usual, releasing two albums under his name, Cenizas and Telas. But it was 2017-2019, the follow-up to the debut album from his Against All Logic moniker, that came first and throughout the year helped to illustrate Jaar’s penchant for combining inspired samples with club beats and tape hiss. Take the way the lovelorn vocals of “Fantasy” or soulful coos of “If Loving You Is Wrong” war skittering, scratchy percussion and cool arpeggios, respectively: Jaar is coming into his own as a masterful producer almost a decade after he released his first full-length. Oh, and bonus points for including none other than Lydia Lunch on a banger so blunt it would make Death Grips blush. - JM

Bartees Strange - Live Forever (Memory Music)

Like many, my introduction to Bartees Strange was through Say Goodbye to Pretty Boy, his EP of The National covers. Creativity and shifting perspectives shine through each song’s reimaging, like flipping the coarse, almost manic “Mr. November” into something softer, more meditative. It felt like a mere peek into what was to come on Live Forever. Bartees Strange is a world-builder. Each track on his debut unfolds and welcomes you to a wildly engaging tableau, a fully constructed vision. “Jealousy” opens with soft vocals and birdsong. “In a Cab” is the slick soundtrack to racing through a cityscape in the rain, seeing the blurred lights of the high-rises above as you pass by. “Kelly Rowland” warps wistful pop song feelings. “Flagey God” takes you into a dark, pulsing club while only a few songs later, “Fallen For You” wraps you in echoed vocals and romantic, raw acoustic guitar.

It’s an accomplishment to craft an album of individual songs that stand strongly on their own but still feel cohesive. 2020 wasn’t all bad. It gave us Live Forever, a declaration of an artist’s arrival. - Lauren Lederman

Charli XCX - how i’m feeling now (Atlantic)

Back in the spring, many of us wondered who would put out something great in 2020’s quarantine. It was hard to imagine that the intensity of a global pandemic would really allow for artists to embrace creativity. That thought carries the same eye-roll inducing feeling of “We’ll get some great punk music out of a Trump presidency,” but of course, Charli XCX delivered. Through live workshops with fans and longstanding collaborators, she delivered songs to dance alone to in your bubble. Charli embraces the unknown of the moment but clutches onto what’s familiar. Under the glitch-pop veneer of the album, she digs into the anxieties of not just this moment of time but of the bigger questions we all confront: trajectories of relationships with friends, romantic partners, ourselves. Album standouts “forever” and “i finally understand” embrace that feeling of both looking for control and accepting the lack of it. Charli is a master at balancing this. - LL

Christine and the Queens - La Vita Nuova (Because Music)

Named after a Latin text by Dante Alighieri about missing a woman who has died, Chris’ La Vita Nuova is not about mourning a death but instead about loneliness and isolation, post-relationship or otherwise. It doesn’t bang quite like her previous two albums, but it hits harder than ever.

Read our full review here.

Dogleg - Melee (Triple Crown)

Released on March 13th, right as the COVID-19 pandemic hit, Melee was supposed to be supported by three cancelled tours–SXSW, an opening slot for Microwave, and an opening slot for Joyce Manor–and an appearance at this year’s cancelled Pitchfork Music Festival. Listening to the songs on the record, you can only imagine how they translate: the jerky momentum of “Bueno”, build-up of “Prom Hell”, gang vocals of “Fox”, clear-vocal anthem of “Wrist”, and odd groove of “Ender”.

Read “Buckle Up, Motherfucker”, our interview with Dogleg.

Dua Lipa - Future Nostalgia & Dua Lipa/The Blessed Madonna: Club Future Nostalgia (Warner)

Where Dua Lipa’s much-anticipated second album Future Nostalgia succeeded was in its disco anthems and retro, club-ready beats, so who better to bring out the best of the record than The Blessed Madonna? The turntablist masterfully curates a mix of heavy hitters of the charts and the underground that not only offers an essential complement to Future Nostalgia but transcends it. Sending the tracks out to various producers and singers for features and then adding her own samples on top, she invites you to peel back the layers, enter a YouTube rabbit hole of sample searching as much as bopping along.

Read our full review here.

Emma Ruth Rundle & Thou - May Our Chambers Be Full (Sacred Bones)

Roadburn Festival has long been on my bucket list, and since the pandemic showed me how much live music can be taken away in a flash, when it’s safe again to travel and go to a festival, I may just pull the trigger and go--especially considering it’s the springboard for such fruitful and inspired collaborations as the one between Louisville singer-songwriter Emma Ruth Rundle and Baton Rouge sludge dwellers Thou. Rundle embraces the heavier opportunities on the follow-up to her incredible 2018 record On Dark Horses with the ever-flexible Thou backing her up vocally and instrumentally. Slow-burning opener “Killing Floor” offers a familiar introduction to fans of both--sort of what a Rundle/Thou song would sound like--before grunge chugger “Monolith” introduces huge, catchy riffs and “Out of Existence” a True Widow-esque dirge, newfound inspirations for both artists bringing the best out of each other. - JM

Fiona Apple - Fetch the Bolt Cutters (Epic)

What makes Fetch the Bolt Cutters stand out among Apple’s catalog and music in general is the clarity with which Apple seethes at those who have wronged her, whether ex-boyfriends or patriarchal oppressors, and looks to her relationships with other women for peace of mind.

Read our full review here.

HAIM - Women in Music Pt. III (Columbia)

For HAIM, the title Women in Music Pt. III is suggestive that, more than their previous two records, their third centers around the experiences of being an all-female band in a historically white cis male-dominated scene, at least one that wouldn’t call catchy riffs written by a man “simple” or call attention to the faces a man makes while playing. What it doesn’t let on to is how deeply personal the record is, how, by unabashedly embracing genres and styles of music that they love, HAIM have made far and away their best album. Co-produced by the usual suspects, Danielle Haim, Ariel Rechtshaid, and ex-Vampire Weekender Rostam Batmanglij, it’s instrumentally and aesthetically dynamic and diverse, consistently earnest without devolving into cheese.

Read our full review here.

Irreversible Entanglements - Who Sent You? (International Anthem)

I’ve been captivated by Irreversible Entanglements ever since I first saw them at Pitchfork Music Festival 2018. The radical poetry of Camae Ayewa (aka Moor Mother) is the perfect front for a ramshackle mix of Luke Stewart’s spidery bass, Tcheser Holmes’ weighty drums, and a horn section that concocts tones that range from hopeful to desperate. At their best, Who Sent You? is a shining example of celebratory Afrofuturism and metaphysics that makes the urgency of Ayewa’s more concrete and political words all the more necessary. “No Más”, composed by Panamanian-born trumpeter Aquiles Navarro, is a declaration against imperialist oppression, while the stunning title track flips the switch like a Kara Walker painting, as Ayewa’s the one interrogating the police officer terrorizing her community. “Who sent you?” she repeats, never spiraling, grabbing a hold of the power and never letting go. - JM

Jeff Parker - Suite for Max Brown (International Anthem/Nonesuch)

It’s Jeff Parker’s mom’s turn. After 2016′s The New Breed ended up being a tribute to the guitarist’s father, who passed away during the making of it, Parker decided to pay tribute to Maxine while she was still alive. Suite for Max Brown (Brown is his mother’s maiden name; Max is what people call her) is a genre-bending collection of tracks inspired by Parker’s DJing, juxtapositions of sequenced beats with improvisation that certainly sound like the brainchild of one individual. Indeed, Parker plays the majority of the instruments on it and engineered most of it at home or during his 2018 Headlands Center residency in Sausalito, CA; though all of the players and the vocalist (Jeff’s daughter Ruby Parker) on The New Breed show up, plus a couple trumpeters (piccolo player Rob Mazurek and Nate Walcott of Bright Eyes) and cellist Katinka Kleijn, Suite for Max Brown is a distinctly Jeff Parker record.

Read our preview of Jeff Parker & The New Breed’s set at Dorian’s last year.

Jeff Rosenstock - NO DREAM (Polyvinyl)

Jeff Rosenstock throws us right into the spinning, manic energy of NO DREAM, his latest release from a seemingly endless well of music that never lacks urgency. It’s a reminder that though it’s been a strange year, the issues Rosenstock tackles here aren’t new. There’s no interest in making you feel comfortable here. On the album’s title track, Rosenstock sings, lulling you into a false sense of security, “They were separating families carelessly / Under the guise of protecting you and me.” But reality sets in, and the hazy guitars spin out as he spits, “It’s not a dream!” and, “Fuck violence!”

My image of Jeff Rosenstock in the year 2020 is masked up with “Black Lives Matter” scrawled across the fabric of his mask in Sharpie, performing album highlight “Scram!” on Late Night with Seth Meyers as high energy as ever. It felt like watching someone send out a beacon, both a distress signal and a call to arms. - LL

Jessie Ware - What’s Your Pleasure? (PMR/Friends Keep Secrets/Interscope)

I am not someone who goes to clubs. I don’t “go out dancing,” preferring to let loose in the privacy of my own home or a trusted friend’s house party. But Jessie Ware’s What’s Your Pleasure? makes me think I could embrace a night out like that, once the world opens up again, of course. The album is filled with syncopated disco beats that feel fresh and classic all at once. The abundant horns and strings on “Step Into My Life” are decadent, like light bouncing off sequins in a dark room. Ware’s voice is slinky and velvety one moment, windswept like her album cover the next. It’s songs like “Save a Kiss” that embrace both, allowing her to show off her range. - LL

Laura Marling - Song for Our Daughter (Partisan)

With sparse production, mostly from her but with additions from Ethan Johns and Dom Monks, Marling foregoes the comparative maximalism of the Blake Mills-produced Semper Femina, her last proper full-length, and 2018′s LUMP collaboration. The songs aren’t simple, but they’re succinct, and every element, from Marling’s finger-picked guitars, the occasional slide guitar, and that unmistakably calm voice, sometimes alone and sometimes layered, fits. It’s her most universal set of songs yet, centering around the times when we’re apart from one another but reflecting on when we were together and when we might be together again, with no guarantees.

Read the rest of our review here.

Les Amazones d’Afrique - Amazones Power (Real World Records)

The groovy pan-African collective expands upon their debut Republique Amazone and then some with Amazones Power, a tour-de-force statement of female empowerment in the face of oppression against women throughout the African diaspora. Indeed, the album is more than just songs boldly decrying FGM, though those demands ring heavily. Instead, the group goes further, delving into gender power structures in marriage on “Queens” and selectively finding strength in tradition on “Dreams”. And this time, they include men to stand alongside with them. “Together we must stand / Together we must end this,” sings Guinean musician/dancer/artist Niariu on opener “Heavy” in solidarity with features Douranne (Boy) Fall and Magueye Diouk (Jon Grace) of Paris band Nyoko Bokbae. But perhaps it’s her kiss-off on “Smile” that hits hardest: “I shut up for no one.” - JM

Lianne La Havas - Lianne La Havas (Nonesuch)

The British singer-songwriter’s much anticipated follow-up to 2015′s Blood was better than I could have ever imagined. A song cycle about life cycles--of nature, of lives, of a relationship--inspired by an actual breakup, Lianne La Havas is a contemporary neo soul masterpiece. Overview opener “Bittersweet” is an instant earworm, La Havas’ coo-turned-belt filling the space between classic and increasingly emotive slabs of piano and guitar. Funky, lovestruck strut “Read My Mind” is the soundtrack for the unbridled confidence of finding new love. Yes, the doubts begin to sow on the fingerpicked melancholy of “Green Papaya” and “Can’t Fight”, and where the album goes from a simple narrative perspective may be predictable: They break up, they don’t get back together, La Havas enjoys her independence. But the depth of the arrangements and assuredness of La Havas’ singing is a product of an artist starting to really show us what she can do. And how many people can pull off a Radiohead cover like that? - JM

Lomelda - Hannah (Double Double Whammy)

What does it mean to title an album after yourself? Lomelda’s latest album is centered around discovering more about yourself while not always having the answers. Despite the lyrical content, the album is self-assured. Hannah Read’s voice feels as steady as ever as it navigates these twisting questions, like the way the world can shift after a kiss. She finds power in softness and reflection throughout the album, like when she explores the mantra-like words of “Wonder” or through a reminder to do no harm in “Hannah Sun”. In a year that allowed for perhaps more reflection than usual, Hannah makes space for the questions that arise out of figuring yourself out, of making sense of the messiness of it all, wrapped in warm guitar, balanced vocals, and steady drums. - LL

Moses Sumney - Grae (Jagjaguwar)

“Am I vital / If my heart is idle? / Am I doomed?” Moses Sumney famously sang on his stunning 2017 debut Aromanticism, an album that saw him developing his acceptance of being alone. grae, his two-part 2nd full-length, and his first since officially moving from L.A. to the Appalachian Mountains of Asheville, North Carolina, doubles down on themes of heartbreak, but instead of being sure in his seclusion, he embraces the unknown. The album teeters between interludes of platitudes about isolation and ruminations on failed human connection, and maximally arranged clutches of uncertainty. “When my mind’s clouded and filled with doubt / That’s when I feel the most alive,” Sumney coos over horns and piano on slinky soul song “Cut Me”; it’s an effective mantra for the album.

Read the rest of our review here.

Norah Jones - Pick Me Up Off The Floor (Blue Note)

At the time we previewed Norah Jones’ 7th studio album, she had only released a few tracks from it. Turns out the rest was just as powerful. From the blues stomp of “Flame Twin” to the rolling piano stylings of “Hurts to Be Alone”, Pick Me Up Off The Floor is an album full of jazzy orchestrations and soul and gospel-indebted arrangements, Jones’ silky, yearning voice tying together the simple, yet lush and deep instrumentation. And that other Tweedy feature, that closes the album? It’s a heartbreaking portrait of loneliness, one of many on a record that still manages to celebrate being alive all the while. - JM

Phoebe Bridgers - Punisher (Dead Oceans)

Phoebe Bridgers is a master of details. Her lyrics shine when they get specific. They range from the mundane to morbid: A superfan’s ghost-like wandering under a drugstore’s fluorescent lights, a skinhead likely buried under a blooming garden, reckoning with the you in “Moon Song”’s lines, “You are sick, and you’re married / And you might be dying.” Bridgers has always been able to set a scene meticulously, and Punisher arrived with 11 songs that expanded that skill, both lyrically and musically, with her dark humor intact and a fuller sound that includes her boygenuis collaborators’ harmonies. - LL

PJ Harvey - To Bring You My Love: The Demos & Dry - The Demos (Island)

Yes, revisiting Dry’s demos as a separate entity is still worthwhile. Harvey’s powerhouse vocal performance carries the acoustic strummed “Oh My Lover”, while the comparatively minimal arrangement of “Victory” highlights bluesy riffing, call-and-response harmonies, and layered guitar and vocals. The singles, the slinky and sharp “Dress” and propulsive anthem “Sheela-Na-Gig”, hold up to their ultimate studio versions, too. But it’s the To Bring You My Love material that provides novelty because it’s never been released and more so because it encompasses the greatest aesthetic contrast from the album. From the warbling hues and guitar lines of the title track to the tremolo haze of “Teclo” to the crisp snares of “Working With The Man”, the demos show a continuity and level of cohesiveness with the diversity of Dry and Rid of Me not shown on the studio version of Harvey’s more accessible commercial breakout. (Predictably, the album’s most well-known song, “Down by the Water”, is the closest to its eventual version.) “Long Snake Moan” is simultaneously more spacious and more noisy, its garage blues a total contrast to the lurking “I Think I’m A Mother” and swaying shanty “Send His Love To Me”. And “The Dancer” fully embraces its flamenco influences, hand claps and all.

Porridge Radio - Every Bad (Secretly Canadian)

Is there a better opening line than “I’m bored to death, let’s argue”? That kind of duality is found across all of Every Bad as it grapples with the frustrations and anxiety of trying to figure it all out, whatever that might mean for you. “Maybe I was born confused, but I’m not,” vocalist Dana Margolin repeats throughout the opening track, roping in listeners with the dizzying feeling of trying to make sense of yourself. The band’s guitar and synth sound coupled with Margolin’s howl makes for a dance party filled with dread, rendering Margolin’s already strong, repetitive lyrics even more spiraling. And yet, by the time we get to “Lilacs”, a glimmer of something else shines through as the music gets more manic and Margolin’s voice begins to soar: “I don’t want to get bitter / I want us to get better / I want us to be kinder / To ourselves and to each other.” - LL

Sault - Untitled (Rise) & Untitled (Black Is) (Forever Living Originals)

Yes, Black Is still pulls plenty of devastating punches. “Eternal Life”, a segue from the gospel boost of “US”, juxtaposes a deliberate drum beat with zooming synths, both ascending like a chorus of angels, as they sing, “I see sadness in your eye / ‘Cause I know you don’t wanna die,” presenting the oppression of Black life at the hands of white supremacy in inarguable terms. Ultimately, though, it’s the anthemic nature of the songs, resistant of platitudes, that shines through. “Nobody cared / This generation cares,” says Laurette Josiah on “This Generation”. Whether she’s talking about young people in general or the latest generation of young Black leaders, the sentiment is reflected on songs like “Black”, wherein over dynamic, sinewy instrumentation, the singers alternate between encouragement, support, and love of the self and others.

Read our full review here.

Shamir - Shamir (self-released)

Shamir’s voice is a bright beacon in a sea of conventional singers. Shamir captures the effervescence of pop music and weaves it together with elements of country, alt rock, and diary confessional lyrics all supported by the emotion and range of his vocals. There’s something for everyone across the album’s 11 shimmering tracks. Lead single and opener “On My Own” feels like a declaration of self and self-sufficiency, an anthem of a breakup song. The almost pop-punk bounce of “Pretty When I’m Sad”, paired perfectly with lines like the angst-ridden, “Let’s fuck around inside each other’s heads,” feels impossible to not bop along to. The twang of “Other Side” would put a country crooner to shame. That’s the power of Shamir. His voice has the ability to smoothly convey joy, resilience, and humor. He uses elements of several genres, not just the dance-pop of his debut, to build a unique album that gives listeners so much to sift through and, of course, dance to. - LL

Songhoy Blues - Optimisme (Fat Possum)

If Songhoy Blues’ second album Resistance lacked “the grit of its predecessor,” it’s clear from the hard rock stomp of the opening track of Malian band’s third album Optimisme that they rediscovered their mojo. More importantly, they couple this maximal brashness with tributes to those who make their world a better place: fighters for freedom, women, the young. It’s perhaps the first Songhoy Blues record to truly combine the celebratory nature of their desert blues with a balanced mixture of idealism and vigor. - JM

Spanish Love Songs - Brave Faces Everyone (Pure Noise)

How can you find hope in hopelessness, or optimism when every news story points to cruelty? Is it naïve to keep searching for light in the dark? I don’t think so, and I don’t think Spanish Love Songs does, either. I’d like to think we both believe that’s not naivety, but power. It’s the embers you need to really ignite a flame. After all, this is the band with a song titled “Optimism (As a Radical Life Choice)”. It’s a band whose crunching guitars and earnestness insist that despite death and depression and addiction, the instinct to survive shines brightly above all. That relentless hope resurfaces across Brave Faces Everyone’s 10 tracks even as it works through the bleakness of everyday life. - LL

Tashi Dorji - Stateless (Drag City)

The magnum opus from the Asheville-based picker is a group of evocatively titled, disorderly songs about the desolate hellscape of America for outsiders and immigrants. Enigmatic in its nature, not exactly narrative, Stateless combines Dorji’s urgent strumming with moody motifs, captured beautifully in a studio setting for maximum emotional wallop. - JM

Touche Amore - Lament (Epitaph)

Is this what an almost uplifting Touche Amore album sounds like? It’s cathartic in a newer way for the band, especially after the beautifully rendered grief of Stage Four. Lament loses none of the band’s aggression or urgency. “Come Heroine” thrusts listeners into that urgency and introduces a moment of warmth, Jeremy Bolm’s vocals still rasping and insistent: “You brought me in / You took to me / And reversed the atrophy.” The bounciness of “Reminders” may seem close to optimism, but a sharper look at the lyrics uncovers more than blindly looking to the things that bring joy. “I’ll Be Your Host” is reflective, a few years removed from Touche Amore’s previous album and the immediacy of loss, self-aware and growing, but still raw. The album closer, “A Forecast”, takes a turn, a lone voice and piano acting as a confessional before giving way to thrashing guitars and the realization that growth and reckoning with trauma doesn’t mean minimizing it. It means learning to keep moving forward and to stop for help when you may need it. - LL

Waxahatchee - Saint Cloud (Merge)

The best album yet from Katie Crutchfield is inspired by positive personal change (getting sober, dealing with codependency issues, her blossoming love with singer-songwriter Kevin Morby) and reflections on family and friends. Named after the suburb of Orlando where her father’s from, Saint Cloud is a genre-hopping collection of stories and feelings that doesn’t necessarily follow any semblance of narrative. On opener “Oxbow” and country-tinged ditty “Can’t Do Much”, Crutchfield’s increasingly aware of the need to pick your side and your battles, whether in the relationship between two people or between the allure of the bottle and the next-day hangover. Some of the best songs on the album see her finding commonalities with others as a means towards self-love. Gentle strummer “The Eye” refers to her natural creative relationships with Morby and her sister Allison. “War” she wrote for herself and best friend, who is also sober, the title a metaphor for one’s fight to remain substance-free. “Witches” is an ode to her best friends, including Allison and Snail Mail’s Lindsey Jordan, all equally frustrated by the toxic nature of the music industry and the world at large, ultimately lifting each other up because they simply have each other.

Read our full review here.

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yikesharringrove · 4 years ago

Text

Did anyone ask for angst? No? Here’s some anyway.

“Billy’s gone.”

Dustin’s eyes were wide as he stared at Max.

“Maybe he went for a smoke?”

“His fucking car’s gone. He left.” Her face was red, shoulders up around her ears. She was fucking livid. “You need to stall Steve.”

“How the fuck Am I supposed to stall him? He’s bouncing around the fucking room in there!” She stamped her foot.

“Just figure it out!” And she was gone.

On her way to find Billy.

Because she was not about to let him fucking do this.

Leave Steve at the alter.

Billy flew through the stop sign.

It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

If he stopped, then he’d think. And he couldn’t think. Couldn’t talk himself into turning back. Couldn’t talk himself into marrying Steve.

Even though it was all pretend. Just a big ceremony.

A promise of forever.

That’s what he had said when he proposed to Steve.

Steve had cried. Billy had cried too.

He was sobbing now, his foot pressed down on the pedal as far as it’d go, his car speeding through Hawkins, speeding out of Hawkins.

It was better this way.

Better to break Steve’s heart now than to do something worse later.

Because being tied to Billy,

it’s only gonna get Steve hurt.

“The pastor had to leave?” Steve was looking at Dustin, his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. “You realize Hop’s officiating, right? No pastor would do this.” Fuck, Dustin forgot about that.

“Yeah. Hop had to go.”

“Then, someone else could do it. I bet Joyce would.”

“No!” Steve furrowed his brows. “Hopper would, he would hate to miss this. You know that.” Steve took a deep breath.

“Yeah, I guess.” And then he got this soft expression on his face. “How’s Billy doing? He okay? I might just sneak over to-”

“He’s fine. Real serious about this superstitious stuff, though. Can’t see you before the wedding.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“It’s not a real wedding.”

“he knows! He’s just, he says it’s bad luck.” There was a harsh rap on the door. Dustin moved faster than Steve’s ever seen him, yanking the door shut behind him.

Steve pressed against it, trying to listen.

“I can’t find him anywhere. Hop’s driving around looking, but he radioed, said he hasn’t seen his car. I don’t know when he left. I mean, he could be outside of town by now. El jsut said he was driving. She can’t find him.”

Steve felt numb.

He felt empty, and cold, and fucking numb.

“He opened the door slowly.

Max and Dustin had their heads together, El holding one of the walkie talkies, a makeshit blindfold in her hand.

He felt himself laughing.

Felt himself giving an empty, awful laugh.

Max looked panicked. Dustin just looked sad.

“He-he left. He fucking-” Steve knew he was crying, somewhere in the back of his head it registered. “He left.”

“Steve, we’re going to find him!”

“Don’t bother. Knew this would happen.” Max’s face did something odd. Like she wanted to defend Billy, but knew she didn’t have a leg to stand on this time. “Everyone always fucking leaves. It was a matter of time.” He was pacing around the room, wiping angrily at his face.

He stopped, reaching out for the bottle of champagne,

and hurled it against the wall.

It shattered, champagne going everywhere.

Steve was standing still, tears pouring down his face.

“I’m going home. Tell everyone the wedding’s off. Have the reception. I don’t fucking care.”

He pushed past them, thankful for the first time that he and Billy had taken separate cars.

He chain smoked all the way home. Ripped through an entire pack as he sat on the couch, his suit rumpled, his eyes red.

He sat there until nightfall, all the phones in the little apartment left off the hook.

It was nearly three in the morning when the lock scraped, and Billy dragged himself inside, suit jacket over one shoulder, shirt unbuttoned.

He stared at Steve.

“Get the fuck out.” Billy just nodded. “Explain what the fuck happened today, then take your shit, and leave.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve rolled his eyes. “I am. I’m sorry I let it get this far. I shouldn’t’ve, it was stupid of me. This is better.”

“Oh, this is better. Leaving me, on our fucking wedding day is better. Fuck you, Billy.”

“Steve, I was gonna do something to fuck this up. Might as well done it sooner. We can both bounce back.”

Steve was off the couch in a moment, pushed up to his full height, drawn tall. The name King Steve knocked through Billy’s head.

“No. You don’t get to make this some shit about you. I know you’re fucked up. Hell, I’ve got baggage too. But this is about you, being a fucking coward. You could’ve talked to me. You could’ve said months ago that you didn’t want to do this. But no. the whole fucking wedding thing was your idea.” Billy was grinding his jaw.

“I got in over my head. I got so, so stupid over you, over how I, how I feel about you. I thought I could have this. I thought I could have something nice and special and forever. But what happens when I snap? What happens when I inevitably turn into my dad, and fucking hit you?”

“Oh, shut up. I’m sick of it. I have tried to help you. I’ve pushed you to try therapy. I’ve fucking talked you through bad days. I have been there for you. But the second anything gets real, the second you realize that this is a big deal, you split. You split like a fucking child.” Steve had taken a few steps, was up in Billy’s face. “So congratulations. You didn’t turn into your father, you turned into your mother.”

He turned on his heel, slamming the door to the bedroom behind him.

Billy heard the lock in the knob click.

“Get out of my house. You can get your shit tomorrow.”

Billy nodded once, and made sure to slam the front door on his way out.

#please don't send me requests to continue this it's finished here #yes i'm watching season 6 of buffy and crying #i've been doing that all day #the past few weeks have been fucked up and everything JUST hit me here's a slice of my depression #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #harringrove angst #yikes writes

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