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littlemissmentallyunstable · 3 months ago

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title: the dancer and the angel part 2

pairing: grayson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: lyra kane is closer to your boyfriend than ever seen as grayson has just been put of her team in the grandest game and it’s making you a little nervous, you don’t trust her and you don’t want her too close to him

parts: part 1 part 3 part 4

warnings: mild swearing, SPOILERS FOR TGG

a/n: I had quite a few requests for a part 2, so here she is… trying to get into my productive era right now (fake it till you make it right??)

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @lxvebelle @xoxo-vee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234

RECAP

“Whose team is he on?” I say quickly.

“Odette Morales and Lyra Kane.”

***

Lyra Kane. Lyra Kane. Lyra Kane. The name rattles around my brain, echoing off of my skull, only to replay in my mind again. Of course it just has to be Lyra Kane that he’s on a team with. That breathtaking woman with beauty that shouldn’t be possible for a human. Yeah, that Lyra Kane. I feel like laughing and crying all at the same time, so I express nothing instead. Why did it have to be her? Out of all of the players.

I’m not jealous, I try to convince myself, I’m just concerned. Yes, that’s it. Except it isn’t and the only person I’m lying to is pathetic little old me. I am ferociously jealous. It scolds me torturously, raging from the pit of my stomach, crawling under my skin to settle comfortably.

Grayson loves me, I know this. I felt the kisses we’d shared on the beach moments before he’d gone into the stupid house. They still linger on my lips now, I could taste him slightly, I’d heard him say he loved me, only me and yet I can’t get the feeling out of my system. The jealousy always manages to seep its way back in. I’m sick with a disease called envy.

I don’t want to be the jealous girl, the possessive one that people roll their eyes at or avoid. That’s not me. I didn’t want it to be me. But deep down I’m petrified that that’s who I’m becoming. I sigh, realising I was just going to have to swallow it. What could I do about it now? Besides I know Grayson, I trust Grayson. He wouldn’t let her try anything on, would he?

***

Hours of waiting and not watching. We couldn’t see the players at all. Or hear them. Anxiety is killing me slowly from the inside out, gnawing happily at my organs. I spin the ring on my middle finger as my leg jigs up and down, counting down the seconds until sunrise, four-thousand one-hundred and eight-two to go.

“You know you don’t have to look so panicked all the time,” Nash sighs, slumping down beside me.

“I’m not panicked,” I say, forcing a laugh.

“Sure darlin’,” he says, “my name’s Roger and I have a pet turtle.”

I roll my eyes, fighting the urge to smile, “I mean it, I’m fine.”

“It’s completely safe in there, we designed it that way,” he explains slowly, soothingly, “no one’s going to get hurt and there’s an emergency button just in case.”

“Okay,” I nod, exhaling.

I don’t believe him and his words don’t offer me much comfort. My overthinking brain is currently listing all of the ways Grayson could possibly die in the next ten minutes. But Nash is trying and I’m thankful to have him.

“At least pretend you’re convinced,” he drawls, a twinkle in his eyes.

Maybe I’m not convinced that everything’s going to be fine but I am convinced Nash has a sixth sense called ‘big brother knows all’ because for some reason he always knew everyone’s thoughts and feelings, even when they were trying to hide it. Either that or he’s a mind reader.

“I am,” I tell him, as convincingly as I could muster, “everything’s going to be fine.”

“Shit!” Jameson yells from across the room, perfect timing as per usual.

“What?” I hear Avery ask quickly.

“The powers gone out,” he says, smacking the table so hard I didn’t know how he didn’t break a bone.

“What do you mean the powers gone out?” I say, standing up and walking over.

“I mean they have no light, no heaters and they ate completely locked in by the mechanisms,” he explains, gesturing to the blank screens.

“We’ve lost all connection to them as well,” Xander murmurs, eyes darting from left to right at each and every screen.

“Everything?” I exclaim, trying not to get over-anxious and failing miserably.

“Yes,” Jameson confirms.

“You’re panicking her,” Nash scolds him.

“Well she asked I’m not going to lie,” he defends.

“Not the time to argue guys,” Avery rolls her eyes, getting back to the computer. Jameson follows her lead, trying to reconnect the lost signals.

“Shit shit shit,” he groans as more things shut off. He slams his hands down on the keyboard and starts guessing random buttons, “Xand help me out here,”

“Don’t you worry, dearest brother,” Xander replies calmly, “I’m working on it.”

Silence hits us like the dead. We’re all intently staring up the layers and layers of code coming up on the several screens. I can’t understand any of it.

“This is Python,” Jameson points at one of the scenes.

“Yeah and this is Java,” Xander nods, “but I have no clue what this is.”

“Shit,” Jameson curses, running a hand through his hair, reminding me of Grayson when he was overstimulated.

“Not yet,” he replies, turning to the other Hawthorne brother present, “Nash do you remember when I was in fifth grade-“

“The de-coder book?” he says before Xander even finishes.

“Please,” he nods sharply.

“Got it,” he replies, rushing out of the room.

“Do you have any idea what they’re talking about?” I whisper to Avery

“Absolutely none,” she shrugs, looking as clueless as me offering me some comfort.

“Who would even cut the power?” Jameson asks to nobody in particular.

Avery and I share a look. I already know we’re thinking the same thing.

“Grayson is in there, does she know that?” I ask quickly.

“I don’t know,” she replied, chewing the inside of her cheek

“She?” Jameson interrupts. We both ignore him.

“Don’t you think he’ll be her prime target,” I say, the worry warping my tone a little in a way that made me sound a little too vulnerable for my liking.

“Target?” Jameson says. We ignore him, again.

“Most likely, if it is her,” Avery sighs, tapping her bottom lip melodically.

Jameson looks at Xander, baffled, “are they speaking in code?”

“I’m kind of concentrating right now Jamie, please don’t talk to me,” he responds, not taking his eyes off of the computer screens as he attempts to decode.

“Who are you talking about?” Jameson raises his voice a little, forcing me and Avery to address his question.

“This could be Eve,” Avery says softly.

“Eve?” Xander says, freezing mid-type and actually lifting his head up.

“No surely not,” Jameson shakes his head in denial.

“Think about it,” I say, “who else can you think that would want go sabotage this game?”

“Anyone who fancies a good bit of money,” he states, “and it could be nothing at all.”

“A power cut isn’t nothing,” I argue.

“I hate to agree the circumstance,” Avery exhales, “but it’s true, this feels like a threat of sorts.”

“And we can’t contact the players meaning anything could happen right now,” I say, worry bleeding into my voice.

Jameson’s face softens.

“But they’re locked in,” Nash points out, sauntering back in, “no one is getting in or out, that means they can’t be hurt.”

He hands the decoding book to Xander who frantically flips through the pages to find something in particular.

“Windows can be smashed,” I point out.

“You think whoever this is would risk smashing a window,” Nash asks, with his eyebrows raised.

“I don’t know how these people work,” I snap, throwing my hands up in the arm.

“You’re shaking,” he says softly.

I look up to see my shaking limbs. Immediately they drop to my sides and I desperately try to still them, “no I’m not-“

“Breathe a little okay, Gray will be fine,” he reassures me, his tone placid, as he delicately takes my shaking hands between his.

“Look as long as they all stay put no one should get hurt,” Avery says calmly, “the glass on the windows are double glazed and harder to smash than the average window, that is if they’re going to risk that.”

“Besides Xander’s on it,” Jameson adds.

Xander sticks a thumb into the air, still audibly tapping the keyboard with the other, “whoever did this is incredibly skilled at hacking and annoyingly so,” he mutters in reply.

No one talks. We are all just stood in silence, barely daring to breathe not wanting to break Xander’s concentration. Mine and Avery’s hands are intertwined, gripping the others so tightly that our fingers are white. Xander is frantic. He’s practically sweating as he types quickly and clicks buttons I didn’t even know existed. And just when it seemed like he might be getting somewhere more and more boxes of undeciphered code popped up. I’m close to being hopeless when Xander leans back in his seat.

“We’re back up and running,” Xander announces, “lights, buttons, connections, locks, everything.”

Avery and I squeal, hugging each other tightly. Relief floods through my body and I’m giddy with it. Xander stands up and breathes out slowly.

I kiss his cheek in affection and gratitude, platonically, “thank you Xander.”

“You’re welcome,” he says.

“I owe you a scone,” Jameson tells with a slap on the back.

“That, you do,” he nods with a wide grin.

“What do we tell the players?” Nash asks, reminding us that the game is still going and the players will be wondering what the hell just went on.

“Do we tell them the truth?” Xander asks.

“We don’t even know the truth,” Jameson tells him.

“Then we tell them what we know,” Avery says, “Nash?”

“You got it kid,” he nods.

Xander slides an arms around me.

“Sorry ‘bout that folks,” Nash drawls through the microphone, “brief technical snafu on our end, but we’re back. You still have sixty three minutes until dawn. As long as at least one team makes it down to the dock by the deadline, the rules still stand.”

It’s fine, everything will be fine. Three thousand seven hundred and eighty seconds left. I rest my head on Xander’s shoulder and he puts his head on mine. I think he’s the only thing that’s holding me up at the moment. If he weren’t I’m pretty sure my body would be some sort of odd shaped puddle of consumed thoughts on the carpet. Only one sentence goes through my head, over and over and over. I can’t wait to have my arms around Grayson again.

***

It’s almost sunrise when we make our way to the dock so we’ll be there for when the players make it out. If they make it out. I walk in between Xander and Nash, trying to keep up with their obscenely large leg strides. Avery and Jameson lead the way holding hands. My heart squeezes, it won’t be too long before I see Grayson again. I know it seemed stupid, we had only been apart for a few hours, but those hours had felt like weeks given all of the events that had taken place. Not to mentioned the long prolonging wait of which I couldn’t see or hear him.

And there was still something going around in my head. Something about him being with Lyra Kane for this long in such close proximity. It was grating at me, but I push the feelings down and bury them under a mound that I’m trying to ignore.

“Want to have a bet?” Xander ruffles my hair, stealing me from being consumed by my own thoughts.

I slap him away, “I’ve heard it’s dangerous to wager with a Hawthorne.”

“What’s my brother been telling you?” he asks.

“Mum’s the word,” I wink back, tapping my nose.

“What’s your bet on little brother?” Nash asks.

“What team will make it first,” Xander grins, mischievous glint in his eye.

His brotehr grins towards the sky, “had a feeling it might be.”

“I’m bias then,” I scoff.

“Okay so your Hearts,” Xander says.

“Hang on I never agreed to this bet,” I exclaim, holding my hands up to surrender.

“Whoever wins gets a scone,” he bribes me.

“That only benefits you,” Nash points out.

“Actually I would also benefit, I like scones,” I smile sheepishly,

“See? Who are you voting Nash?” Xander asks.

“I’ll go with Clubs, I’m rooting for Gigi,” Nash shrugs.

Xander nods, “that means I’m going with Diamonds.”

“You don’t have to,” I tell him.

“Yes I do, otherwise it’s uneven,” he says. I wasn’t going to argue.

“Who would your original vote gone to?” I ask.

He smiles at me, a cheeky glint in his eyes, “no one shall ever know.”

“What are you three wittering about,” Jameson says, interrupting the train of conversation as he turns around.

“Probably something better than the lovesick whispers you two are sharing,” Xander teases.

“Xand-“

The thumping of footsteps cut him off. It’s a race. Hearts and Diamonds are out. Savannah is the fastest, Rohan hot on her heels. Though Lyra takes them both over in a matter of seconds. She must be a runner. Would explain the to-die-for figure. Grayson is close behind her thought Odette trailed behind slightly, but for a woman of her age she’s doing remarkably well. They all arrive within milliseconds of each other, breathless and rosy-cheeked.

“Congratulations Diamonds and Hearts, you’ve made it,” Avery smiles.

“Where’s Clubs?” Savannah asks, its only then I notice how her longs blonde hair has been chopped off unevenly. It makes her look even colder than before, sending a chill down my spine

“Still playing,” Jameson says.

“Gray,” I breathe in relief, as he takes me into his arms.

Something about the hug feels unnatural maybe even slightly uncomfortable, but I brush it off. We’d both been awake for far too long. I couldn’t trust my judgement on this little sleep.

“You okay?” I murmur into his shoulder.

“Fine,” he replies, so only I can hear him.

“Good.”

It hit sunrise and something sinks in my stomach. Clubs haven’t made it. Gigi is out of the game. This is going to destroy her. We all wait in silence. All knowing Clubs have failed, all knowing the disappointment we’d have to see on their faces. My heart is thumping loudly in my chest, I can hear it in my ears. I grip onto Grayson’s hand tightly. I catch Lyra’s honey golden eyes. She looks me up and down as I narrow my eyes at her. I can’t read her body language towards me, it was difficult to make out what she was thinking or feelings. I turn away and try not to think too much of it.

There’s sound coming from the left of us and in the distance there are three figures. Everyone’s eyes snap to the three remaining players who’s hearts are probably all sinking in realisation that they were nit longer players in this game. Then I notice what’s in Knox’s arms or rather who… Knox is carrying a bleeding Gigi. My stomach twists. Grayson freezes beside me.

“Put her down,” Grayson says sternly, his voice commanding authority.

Immediately Knox gently places Gigi down, making sure she was stable before he completely let go. We rush to her side immediately. Grayson putting a protective arm around her shoulder, his eyes flitting between the gash on her head and her face.

“Oh god Gigi,” I murmur tentatively touching her bloodied head to assess how severe it is.

“I’m fine,” she winces, blinking back tears.

“You are not,” Grayson says, his voice hard almost empty, “you’re injured Gigi.”

“Who among us is not occasionally concussed?” she says happily.

“Our team is out of the game, go ahead say it we’be been eliminated,” Knox says turning to Avery.

She ignores him and approaches Gigi, “are you okay?”

She nodded with a smile laced with the pain he thought she could hide. Maybe it was invisible to the others, but not to me. I’ve been under the same mask she’s trying to hide behind now. I understand. Grayson keeps his arm around her and I keep my hand in hers. She squeezes my palm and I squeeze hers back. I’m here, I wanted to scream, I’m here for you.

“Diamonds and Hearts, you’re onto the next phase of the game. Clubs… there’s always next year,” Avery finally brings herself to say.

“Once a player, always a player,” Jameson adds.

***

I don’t leave Gigi’s side until Nash has patched her up properly. ‘Stay with her, please,’ Grayson had murmured after we’d shared a quick kiss. He’d had something to discuss back at the dock with Odette. And Lyra. So I did, I stayed by Gigi’s side through every wince, every hand squeeze, every stitch.

“All patch up darlin’,” Nash nods, tipping his cowboy hat towards her slightly.

“Thanks,” she smiles brightly, it’s an unnatural fluorescent brightness that she radiated. Too bright, too artificial.

“You feeling okay?” I make sure, looking at her head.

“Fine,” she replied, gently feeling over her stitches.

Before anyone can say anything else there is a sharp knock at the door interrupting the thread of conversation. Nash answers. Brady walks in. Something was off about that guy. I got a bad feeling when I was around that guy. Nash gets up to leave and as much as I want to stay, it’s not my place to and I know that.

“Holler if you need anything,” Nash tells Gigi.

“We’re not going far,” I reassure her.

“Don’t worry about me,” she beams up at me, though the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “really I’m fine.”

“I think we both know that’s a lie,” I say, my voice so low I’m not sure if she can hear me.

The way her eyes soften, revealing an ounce of vulnerability, indicates she has, “can we talk later? Maybe on the boat back?”

“Of course we can,” I say, squeezing her hand in mine one last time, before standing up to leave her to talk to Brady.

She nods with a small smile which I return, then turn to follow Nash who’s holding eye contact with Brady intensely. As soon as we’re out of the room and a few paces down the corridor Nash blurts out, “I don’t trust him.”

“Neither do I,” I grimace, at least someone else had picked up on Brady’s sketchy vibes, “he gives me a weird feeling.”

“Same here kid,” he nods in reply, then pauses slightly before saying, “you go and find Gray, I’ll be close by if she needs me.”

I fumble over my words. How did he know again? He has to be some sort of mind reader. I make a mental note to discuss it with Xander.

“Are you sure?” I ask quietly.

“I’m sure,” he says, placing a brotherly hand in my shoulder, “I know you’re still worried, you’re horrible at hiding it.”

“Thanks Nash,” I chuckle, brushing hair out of my face,

“No worries kid,” he says, shooting me a lopsided grin as I rush off to reunite with Grayson.

***

The boat left for the mainland at noon, that was when Gigi, Knox and now Odette were leaving, as she traded her place for Brady’s. But the players had been told to try and get some rest before the next phase. I’d also been up all night and could feel myself growing tired, so Grayson and I were currently laying on our bed in each other’s arms. It feels nice to finally breathe a little. I don’t feel the weight of stress from my jealousy or guilt or worry, I just feel normal.

“Do you think Gigi will be okay,” I murmur into Grayson.

“Nash is used to patching up our ailments,” he responds, his tone a little distant. It made me iffy.

“Yeah but I mean after being cast out of the game,” I reply, “I know I wouldn’t feel great if I were in her position.”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, blowing out a short breath.

“I’m worried about her,” I say quietly.

“Me too,” he whispers, “I’m really worried about her.”

“I think we’re going to talk later,” I tell him, hoping it might provide himnwith some sort of solace.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I confirm, “I hope she might get whatever it is that’s hurting her off of her chest.”

“Make sure she’s okay for me, okay?” he makes sure, “no matter what.”

“Of course,” I say, a little confused. Why had he said it like that? Like something bad might happen? Like I might lose him? I brush off the feeling. I put it down to overreacting, as usual.

We fall into a long silence as I trace different shapes on chest with my finger tip. I slowly drag it along, with no specific shape in mind. A blank expression is present on his face and I can see he’s deep in thought. There’s something on his mind and I have a horrible feeling it has something to do with the unseen, unheard happenings of the grandest game.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask him, doe-eyed.

“Hmmm nothing,” he says, refusing to look me in the eye.

“You sure?” I press on.

“I’m sure,” he says, planting a kiss on my forehead.

The kiss was off and I could see something was bothering him but he didn’t want to tell me, I’d wait until he was ready. Even if it were forever.

“What was it like in there?” I ask, attempting to change the subject, “the game.”

“It really was the grandest game,” he whispers, “like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”

“Really?”

“They outdid themselves thoroughly,” he says.

“I bet,” I nod, nuzzling further into him affectionately.

“You really couldn’t hear or see anything the whole time?” he asks, a hint of worry delicately woven into his tone. It was so brief you would’ve missed it if you didn’t know him. But I know Gray.

“Nothing, it was like hell,” I say with a small tired laugh, “it was killing me that I had no clue if you were okay.”

“I was fine,” he replied quickly, almost curtly.

“Well I know that now,” I yawn and feel my eyes begin to close slowly but I fight to keep them open.

“You’re tired,” Grayson says, the ghost of a smile faintly touching his lips.

I shake my head in denial, “no I’m not,” I protest, “not even a little bit.”

“Go the sleep love,” he whispers.

“I want to talk to you though,” I pout, rubbing my eyes.

“We‘ll have plenty of time tomorrow,” he says, playing with my hair.

“Okay,” I murmur, letting myself fall into a dimension of much needed sleep, finally with my love back in my arms.

***

I wake up in the middle of darkness, though there is light desperately trying to make it through the black out blinds. I wonder how long I’d been asleep for, it couldn’t be past noon though. I’m aware of the coldness on the other side of the bed. Grayson wasn’t there. It wasn’t exactly uncommon. Usually when we were home, if it were the early hours he would either be swimming or having a wander and a read to make himself tired again.

I hear the door handle turn slowly and the sound of his all too familiar footsteps hitting the floor. I crawl out of bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, as I make my way toward him. Though as I do he stands still, frozen, like he can’t move. Concern latches onto my throat.

“Are you okay?” I whisper, tentatively touching his arm.

He recoils away quickly, like I’ve hit a tender nerve or a bruise of sorts.

“Are you hurt?” I ask worriedly

“No,” he murmurs, his voice stone cold.

It hurts a little more than it should, he’s never usually so blunt, so cutthroat. Not with me anyway.

“Where have you been?” I say, fishing for an honest reply.

He meets my eyes for the first time. Swimming in endless pools of grey is a mournful sorrow, “I’m sorry.”

His voice cracks. Grayson’s voice never cracks.

“Gray?” I say in a ghost of the whisper, the word not even feeling real once it is said. My pulse quickens suddenly and a large lump that I cannot swallow forms in my throat.

He’s pale, his face is regretful. Hollow. Lifeless. My heart sinks. I already know.

“Tell me,” I say, my voice shaking nearly breaking like weak houses in an earthquake.

He shakes his head glossy eyed, “I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, I never meant for it to happen, I-“

“Tell me,” I grit through my teeth trying to prevent the thick emotion building up in my chest from overflowing.

There is a long pause. A deadly silence that seemed to last for days.

He parts his lips and utters the words, “I kissed her.”

It’s like a masked killer has dragged me from the comfort and safety of my own bed in the middle of the night, taken me into the thick of the wood where the vegetation is overgrown and no one will ever hear you scream. The part where it’s hard to see the sky or tell day from night and where no birds sing. And once we’re there, he takes a sharpened knife, laced with the most excruciating poison and slowly opens the left side of my chest, carefully ripping out my beating heart full of blood to destroy in his hands at his leisure. Grinning as her leaves my broken body to bleed out, dying heartless and lifeless. It’s like the person under that mask is Grayson. The one person I put all of my love and trust into. The one person who I thought would saved me from the masked killer is the masked killer. What a fucking joke.

“Who?” I ask, my tone low, dangerous, angry, “who did you kiss? I want to hear you say it.”

“I kissed Lyra,” he whispers, tears rolling down his cheeks, a state I’d never witnessed him in before. But right now I’m too broken to care.

My heart shatters into a million pieces on the spot. And then I am numb with agony.

a/n: so that was a fun ending :) hope you enjoyed part 2 my loves <33 and thanks to everyone who requested it, I’m sorry it took me so long to get around to it

NOTE I DONT THINK GRAYSON IS A CHEATER!! LIKE AT ALL. MY BABY WOULD NEVER!! but I thought I’d spice things up a bit yk, for the ✨drama✨

ALSO the de-coding thingy when the power went out if probs completely wrong on my part but I was allowed to drop computer science last year and I did ;) so I was just waffling, I know nothing about computers other than they can type, play music and they provide me with google and amazon

TIG masterlist

#bella writes 🤍#grayson hawthorne #grayson tgg #grayson hawthorne one shot #grayson hawthorne x you #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson davenport hawthorne #the inheritance games #tig #the brothers hawthorne #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #the grandest game

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bambi-kinos · 18 days ago

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I've heard Paul say that Linda and John have something in common. What do you think about this ? What's the difference between Paul's love for Linda and his love for John?

Paul likes people who are good at getting what they want. John had that in spades, Linda lied her way into being a photographer, even Heather Mills was good at that since she had to bounce back from losing her leg. That is probably one of the big things Linda and John had in common, they wanted to live their lives on their own terms. Paul is someone who would have lived his life completely on rails until he found John so that's a quality he would admire immensely.

I think Linda, John and Heather also did something that no one else in Paul's life was willing to do: they validated his anger. John said "your father is fucking awful let's get the fuck out of here." Linda said "your bandmates are fucking awful let's get the fuck out of here."

When it comes to Heather, there's a few articles from that era talking about how Paul is visibly angrier than usual and it brings to mind this quote from Brian:

Paul is endowed with an immense talent, he hides a great inner tenderness and a formidable sensitivity under angry outside. In my opinion, it is the one that most appeals to strangers, autograph hunters, fans and even other artists. He has a beautiful smile and a formidable enthusiasm that he uses, not to be laughed at, but because he knows that these are assets that can make people around him happy.

...Therefore, I do not take into account his mood swings and hold him in high esteem. I would not want to lose his friendship under any circumstances.” - Brian Epstein, A Cellarful of Noise, 1964.

It's interesting that Brian saw an angry outside to Paul when we would not call Paul angry. But Brian saw more than most and saw Paul's rough side and tl;dr I think that's what Brian is referencing here. I think that Heather Mills saw that in Paul and said "stop acting like you're not an angry person, why are you repressing this?"

Linda had a saying for Paul as well: "it's allowed." She didn't judge him for having feelings. When Paul was starting out with John, John didn't judge him for having feelings either.

I think the difference between Paul's love for Linda and his love for John is that Paul trusted Linda more. John was someone that Paul loved deeply but by the time Linda came along, Paul could only safely love John from a distance. The LSD hysteria, the heroine, the Yoko shit, it was all too much and Paul couldn't keep standing next to the blast furnace. Who fucking would? It's not fair but the addict's lot in life is to drive away everyone who loves them until they are alone.

Linda was someone more worldly and she already survived a failed marriage. John at that point was prone to severe mood swings and hysterical outbursts; Linda notably was not. When you're in Paul's situation and you see a sane person who isn't calling himself Jesus Christ reborn and who isn't trying to foist some weird avante garde artist on you? You cling to that lifeboat. Linda wasn't going to stab Paul in the back for money, she wasn't going to call Paul's lawyer racial slurs, she didn't bitch and whine that everyone was an evil racist that was trying to stop her from being with her twoo wuv. Linda in many ways was very similar to pre-drug addiction John Lennon: she knew what she wanted and she went after it.

Paul was able to love her up close because he trusted her more and because she demonstrated that he could trust her. Paul did love John but it was something he did at a distance which frankly was the only thing he could possibly do. John was a black hole of vanity and selfishness that was dragging everyone down with him which is why George got out while he could and Ringo made sure to live far away.

Part of John and Paul coming back together would have included John getting sober and proving that he could stay sober, that he was committed to sobriety for sobriety's sake, and that he wasn't going to go off the rails trying to sabotage Paul's career while Paul was trying to provide for his children. Otherwise Paul should have and would have kept a distance and refused to commit to anything interesting. I think Paul learned his lesson when he showed up to the Dakota and John turned him away saying "you can't just show up like its Liverpool in the 1950s."

That's another key difference between Paul loving Linda and loving John. Linda actually wanted Paul around, John didn't. Paul loved Linda actively and loved John passively.

#linda eastman #john lennon #paul mccartney #mclennon #anonymous asks #beatles meta #my meta

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hazelsmirrorball · 3 months ago

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MASTERLIST

I decided to update my master list for all the new people. Thank you so much for all the support throughout the years. I appreciate and love you guys so much. Have a Wonderfull day.

☆☆☆☆☆

F1 |

Oscar Piastri

F1 elementary

Bed Chem

Lacy

Too Sweet

Roses

Mr. and Ms. Piastri

Drivers License

And they were roommates

Charles Leclerc

Summerween

My boy only breaks his favorite toys

It's not my fault you're like in love with me or something

Back to December

Bad idea right?

Paper Rings

☆☆☆☆☆

Bottoms |

Hazel Callahan :

Santa's Little Helper

Rockstar girlfriend part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4. part 5. part 6.

We aren't partners

Friendsgiving

The Bodyguard

Christmas in November

The day after Halloween

My girlfriend is a werewolf part 1. part 2.

Bottoms the podcast

Teacher Things

Undercover Spiderwoman part 1. part 2.

☆☆☆☆☆

DC |

Blue Beetle :

Spiderman's Biggest Fan part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4. part 5.

Jason Todd:

Bad idea right?

The exit

Valentines Number one hater

The better brother

The Red Container part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4.

Dick Grayson:

Vampire

The exit

The Cupid Trap

Villanious Love part 1. part 2.

The Better Brother

Bat-family:

The Bat-family

The better Robin, the better lover.

☆☆☆☆☆

Marauders Era |

James Potter :

Mystery of Love

Lover, James Potter Version

Regulus Black:

Rumors of love

Valentine

Astronomy

Marauders

Battle of the Valentines

Galentines Day

Heather (wolfstar)

Santas Little Helper

Hogwarts Elementary

Friendsgiving

The Marauders

☆☆☆☆☆

Slytherin Boys |

Lorenzo Berkshire :

Roses

Theodore Nott:

The Anonymous Red Velvet Cupcakes

☆☆☆☆☆

Extras |

JJ Maybank

Holidate

Conrad Fisher

Midnight grapes

Timothee Chalamet

Late Night Talking

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susandsnell · 7 months ago

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Re anachronistic feminist characters, you are absolutely right and you should say it.

Maybe people who want to read "write women who sew" type stuff should just go do that instead of trying to make every single female character fit into their worldview. Because I don't want every character to be Eloise, I'm fine with variety, but a lot of people seem like they can't stand even one woman challenging gender norms.

No amount of faux progressive language will change the fact they sound like highschool bullies picking on girls who are too GNC or too "weird."

Thank you so much! Ideally, you'd have feminist characters more representative of the feminist or proto-feminist views of their era where the work is going for historical accuracy to honour the different points of where we were in history and also acknowledge the flaws of the movement at different points in time (1994's Little Women versus the hilariously bad 2019 version comes to mind), and certainly there's an element of repetitiveness in this character type, but this is seldom if ever the criticism I see. The truth of the matter is that in fact many early feminists did denigrate work designated as feminine, but we can acknowledge this as misdirected anger at having one option deemed valid.

Instead, we've somehow arrived at "wanting to be treated with human dignity is internalized misogyny because it really cramps my ability to romanticize the past". As you say, nothing wrong with valuing the labour more frequently done by women, but the fact of the matter is you can do that and show that there were always many people who resisted or did not fit into the tight boxes that society forced them into. Instead of, you know, ridiculing them for wanting to break the boxes while enjoying the fruits of having to fit into fewer boxes than our predecessors precisely because of women who loudmouthed and fought back and didn't fit into certain people's fantasy of being a submissive little princess. The kind of girls you made fun of and ostracized in high school, one might say.

To address a particular point you raise that I think is the most important in this entire ongoing discussion:

No amount of faux progressive language will change the fact they sound like highschool bullies picking on girls who are too GNC or too "weird."

I keep saying it, but a certain type of liberal feminist are now using "NLOG" the way it was socially acceptable 10-15 years ago to call someone a lesbian/homophobic or transphobic slurs because they didn't wear makeup or want a boyfriend. It is absolutely high school bullying mentality and has gone from an imperfect attempt at addressing internalized misogyny to active misogyny and latent/often overt homophobia and transphobia.

This is what the numbskulls making video essay after video essay about the apparent 'NLOG crisis' fail to grasp. The Heathers and the Plastics are not 'demonized for being feminine', they are accurate representations of how under patriarchy, social capital is gained through strict, obsessive adherence to white, Western beauty standards (which corporations can profit off of endlessly by manufacturing infinite insecurities, so bonus to the rich girls) and excelling at heterosexuality and pleasing others, and this system self-reinforces by the 'winners' bullying those who do not conform as easily. Jo March, queercoded dynamo that she was, took nothing away from the sisters who were happier with more traditional lifestyles because she wanted better for herself and the girls of the future, and represents so many women who fought for just that. You're not actually an intellectual for thinking Daphne Bridgerton has more value than Eloise because she was designated the season's Diamond, a literal in-universe (and true to life) Prize For Being Correctly Female, and unquestioningly accepts being paraded around like an ornament and smiling at being auctioned off to the highest bidder while Eloise fought back, criticized, and wanted an education more than any boy until they forced heterosexuality upon her. You are in fact a vanguard of the very patriarchal system the franchise even presents as backwards, because you don't want anyone raining on your arranged marriage fantasies.

There is nothing, and I mean nothing feminist, about snarking girls who do not like or for whatever reason, cannot or will not perform conventional femininity.

There is a certain sour-grapes defensiveness that comes from beig ostracized and punished for Failing At Your Gender if you weren't good at what was expected of you/resisted it. Femininity is derided, but it is also imposed (the two work in tandem to oppress women); and if you fail at its imposition, it's natural to try and gain protection by participating in the derision. Hell, I theorize that people who proclaimed themselves "not like other girls" in the contemporary age often did so out of resistance at the fact that we're supposed to perform (cisheteronormative) sexiness from the time we hit our teens, and of course the panopticon self-reinforcement that is how Other Girls treat you if you, an adolescent girl, shirk performance of femininity in any way. Certainly, I've also read much about GNC girls (of various identities) and neurodivergent girls equally having turned to this, which makes sense, as they're frequently targets for such bullying.

I do also think - and have personally experienced - it was an often imperfect articulation of queerness in many cases. The societal ideal of women under a patriarchy is cisheteronormativity; our value is derived from our appeal to men, and from the time we start maturing, sexual availability and appeal to men is the highest virtue. Therefore, women whose sexuality is not limited to men - or heaven forbid, doesn't include them at all - 'fail' gender, and accordingly often feel a sense of alienation and ostracism from other girls when they don't get as excited about dating boys. Also, in many cases (anecdotal I admit from people I know, but still significant), people who had a phase of asserting they "weren't like other girls" were in the process of discovering that they weren't girls at all!

And in some cases - again, I've mentioned that I was an Eloise for all the handwringing about how girls of that era wouldn't say that or do that and it would never occur to want more than what they had (...okay, so why are things different now?) - it's a frustration from the outspoken feminists and reformers at not being able to get other girls on board with us, because deviation from expectation will make you the weirdo who gets punished and rejected because ugh, annoying! As one historical costuming youtuber I won't name so charmingly puts it in her godawful video essay, "the women who made a big show of fighting back were freaks." (Way to convince us you care about feminism...)

All this to say the anti-NLOG brigade have utterly worn out my patience, and at best seem ignorant of the battles that have won us the freedoms we have today because it's not fun to consider how your escapist fantasy might be problematic (understandable, you don't always have to reflect on this to be aware), and at worst? They're getting the chance to be the mean girl in high school again/that they never got to be, they're just dressing it up in the bastardized language of feminism.

#nlog #not like other girls #thank you for giving me the chance to rant lmao #you say it's internalized misogyny and then you call women who wore pants when it was fucking illegal to do so 'a freakshow'#terfs don't even think about touching you repulsive shitstains

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pixelnrd · 7 months ago

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Hello :D

I wanted to know how do you decide the kids each sim has because I struggle to regulate my save’s population. I saw some people using dice to decide it and others simply have them by the decade they’re on but I still wanted to know your method!

Personally, I don’t ‘plan’ how many kids each generation will have too much but rather have in mind how many I think they would have had in that particular era of time and see how it works out.

If this is interesting for you, here is what informed each generation…

1890: large families were common, especially for working class folk, so I knew I would plan for at least 4 children. When I decided to go for a 5, it was twins.

1900: 2 children, as Ernie was aiming for a more upper class lifestyle. But I knew that Ernie would adopt his sisters daughter Marigold making it really 3 children.

1910: there was no official heir for this generation but I knew that Primrose and Marigold would each have 1 child. Primrose didn’t get to have anymore as she was widowed, but she helped raise Marigolds son which fulfilled any desire she had for more. Marigold was asexual, she had her son but just never fell pregnant again.

1920: Daisy had 3 children by seperate partners, as a consequence of being a very sexual and impulsive person during a time where there was no contraception.

1930: going back to working class farm roots during the Great Depression I thought the family would have more children again, so I knew there would be 4 at least. Having twins on the 2nd pregnancy meant that this happened quickly.

1940: I had planned for 2 children, one born during the war (Margot) and one born after the war, due to Douglas and Joan’s long time apart serving. However there was an accidental 3rd child anyway (Lewis).

1950: in the Baby Boom it felt natural to have a large family, so 4 was the goal again. However I remained open to 5, which is why Stella was conceived.

1960: when Leo became heir I knew he and Valerie wouldn’t be the big family type, and thanks to contraception they didn’t have to be. They were only meant to have 1 child and then realise they weren’t cut out for it, but had accidental twins.

1970: going back to Hippy roots again I felt Eleanor would have a larger family, with a goal of 3 - I decided later that 4 felt more fitting, it just took a long time for her to fall pregnant with Summer.

1980: 2 children was always the goal, as family sizes shrank towards the end of the century and April was a working woman. When River remarried I knew he would have a later-in-life child with his new wife.

1990: playing with early IVF technology I knew that Jenny and Heather would have a multiples pregnancy of at least 2 - having 3 was a fun bonus!

#asks #answers

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aloneinthehellfire · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter Seven: We Are The Pariahs

The Pariahs That Saved The World

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: vecna's curse, mentions of death, mentions of homophobia, bad father-daughter relationship (story of my life)

[A/N: omg she made it out of her writers block era!!!! I am so so sorry for the long wait on this chapter, I had planned to write it ages ago but felt myself losing part of my creativity (it's a very long story about the trials and tribulations of an arts uni student) but I am trying to make it up to you all by bringing you the most packed chapter yet! And totally not because I was rushing to get to write my favourite part of the series, okay bye]

We Are The Pariahs

You never thought you’d see this room again.

Soft pink walls, almost entirely covered in movie posters and band memorabilia, a fluffy carpet that felt like home beneath your feet. But it wasn’t the room that made your heart beat faster. It was the girl sat on the bed, mascara tears coating her cheeks.

“Heather?” Your voice was small, scared to spook her.

“Y/n? Is that you?”

Her broken voice almost made you run to her, swoop her in your arms, tell her everything was fine.

No, she isn’t real. Y/n… none of this is real.

You were supposed to be stood in the Upside Down, searching for a way out. You had been calling out for Dustin, you saw… you saw something. What did you see?

“Why weren’t you there?”

Heather’s eyes turn dark, her voice dropping to an abnormal pitch. A jolt of fear from your chest settles into a pit of despair in your stomach.

Vecna. You had seen Vecna.

“You… you could have saved me…” Heather’s cheeks were wet with tears, her mascara slithering down her face likes vines. “You weren’t there.”

No mater how hard you tried, no words escaped the lump in your throat. After all, was anything you could say going to stop Vecna?

“I will always hate you for what you did.”

A sob breaks free from your lips, and a smirk etches onto her face, a face slowly peeling away until all that was left was a red and raw face of horror.

“You never let yourself trust your own gut,” Vecna stands from Heather’s bed, creeping closer as you press yourself further into the wall, “Y/n… always the follower…”

“What do you want?” You manage to whisper, turning your face away as his claws begin to rise above you.

“I am giving you one last chance to finally save someone,” He spits, milky white eyes examining yours, “I want you to warn them all, show them…”

His rotten breath fans against your face and you cry, feeling your head tilt back under his control. He leans impossibly closer, seething venomous words into your ear.

“Tell Eleven… or your soul will be next.”

A silent scream leaves you paralysed, eyes wide as something hot pierces your mind.

Flashing images, displays of terror and destruction. You saw your friends, your family, all burning. Hawkins was crumbling, a giant monster with a gaping mouth breaching through the gates. Chaos flew in wisps of ash and fire until there was nothing but total and complete darkness.

“Tell them…”

“Where is it?!”

Robin could hear Steve and Nancy upstairs rummaging through her bedroom drawers for a hope of a Walkman or even that stupid music box, anything. The longer they took, the paler Robin felt. She was stood in front of you, yelling into your ears, trying to shake you awake from your deathly still posture.

“It’s not gonna work!” Eddie stresses behind her for the millionth time, a higher level of panic detected in his voice with each announcement. “Chrissy didn’t- oh my god, she’s gonna end up like Chrissy. My best friend is gonna-”

“Eddie!” Robin snaps at him, his eyes widening in shock. “We are all fucking terrified right now but I need you to get a grip! STEVE! WHERE’S THE MUSIC?!”

“WE’RE WORKING ON IT!” He yells back, matching her own panicked tone, and Robin could almost throw up.

She knew exactly what was going to happen the moment she saw your face drop, the strike of fear on your features as you stared into your reflection. She already anticipated your shoulders to drop and your eyes to roll back. She just didn’t make it to you in time.

“Please, please, please.” Robin begs you, her throat tightening with every flutter of your eyelids.

A choked gasp shouldn’t have been the sweetest sound Robin thinks she’ll ever hear, but once it escaped your lips, relief washes over her like the tide.

You stumble forward and she only just manages to catch you, Eddie already lunging across the room to help. They both lower you to the floor, allow you to sit as you try and catch your breath.

“You’re okay. You’re okay, we got you.” Eddie kept saying, your wild eyes darting around the room like you were afraid of the shadows, clinging onto his arm.

And Robin just sat there, staring at you, trapped in her own fear of the torment she shouldn’t have been feeling. It felt even worse knowing she had anticipated it all.

“What happened?” She finally asks when your breathing is steadier, watching as a pained expression is woven into your features before disappearing in a flash, shaking your head.

“He… he was warning me. Us. Told us to stop.” You nod feverishly, enough to spark curiosity.

But before Robin could question any further, two sets of footsteps come barrelling down the staircase.

“We got it! We got it- it’s right here!” Steve stumbles over his own words, panting for breath as he holds a Walkman in his hand, presenting it to the ceiling like a trophy. Robin blinks.

“You’re only like 5 minutes late.” She rolls her eyes and Steve looks exasperated, a sigh of relief exhaling from his lungs when he notices you sat there.

“Oh, thank god.” He runs a hand through his hair, laughing nervously. “We couldn’t find any music.”

“You couldn’t-” Robin frowns, shaking her head at him. “Then what the hell were we meant to do with that thing?”

“Improvise?” Steve offers and Nancy clears her throat.

“Sorry.” She surrenders, looking at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You nod, attempting a smile but it didn’t settle right on your lips. “Just… just another threat.”

And with yet another lie, they all seemed satisfied enough to continue their mission; contact Dustin. To which they were successful, using light as communication that you usually would find yourself fascinated with. But the entire time you sat there as the others smiled, you couldn’t block out his voice.

“Tell Eleven… or your soul will be next.”

“You and Wayne really aren’t keeping up on the housecleaning.” You comment, and Robin lets out a snort behind you.

Eddie’s trailer was much like the rest of the eerily familiar homes in the Upside Down; dark and filthy. Vines were pretty much scattered across the furniture, almost swallowing the trailer itself whole. But that wasn’t the concerning part.

If you had to pick just one thing to be scared of, it would be the gaping hole in the ceiling.

“This is where Chrissy died.” Eddie says, gulping as you all stared at the thrumming crimson light. “Like, right where she died.”

And just like that, you were now even more terrified.

“Could this day get worse?” You mutter, and you wish you had kept your mouth shut.

“I think there’s something in there.” Robin announces and you all squint upwards, taken aback by a shadow moving against the membrane.

A few slow seconds ticked by, and you wondered if it was just a trick of the light.

Something suddenly pierces through, pieces of the small gate splattering to the ground and you all leap backwards, heart hammering in your ears.

Steve moves first, cautiously peering up before a smile starts to stretch his cheeks. Curious, everyone else follows suit, and you’ve never felt so relieved in your life.

“Hi there.” Dustin laughs in glee as Max, Lucas, and Erica, all wave up to you.

The first face you see as you grin is Robin’s, meeting her hopeful eyes and happy smile with those of your own. In the moment, you reach out your hand as squeeze hers without thinking. You didn’t even notice her grip your hand tighter. You also didn’t remember letting go. Because you never did.

“Holy shit, this is trippy.” Robin laughs, and you can only nod in agreement, looking through the gate as if you truly were Upside Down.

“Bada-bada-boom!” Dustin yells, and you all instinctively laugh.

In a hushed mutter of agreements, the kids start to build the exit plan, dispersing across the trailer. Robin gently tugs on your hand and you look at her inquisitively, her head motioning for you both to step to the side.

“What’s up?” You whisper, unsure of why she wanted to talk in private. If anything, you could only hope why she wanted to talk privately, but that was wishful thinking considering you both barely knew eachother and it probably wouldn’t work because who knows if she’s-

“Did you… did you see something?” She asks and you frown. “Earlier. When Vecna… is there something you’re not telling us?”

“No.” Your response was too quick and her face drops into a serious tone, her hand slipping away from yours and you’ve never thought your hand could feel heavier without the weight. “Robin-”

“You can’t keep secrets, Y/n.” She says and you shut your mouth. “There’s already been so much-”

She takes a breath, eyeing the others as they all appear to be fixated on the events above them.

“You went to the Creel House and never told us about it.” She reminds you, a soft frown marking two small lines between her brows. “You heard Vecna, and you didn’t think that would be important to know. And now you’re having these visions and you’re not telling us the whole story with that, either. Why?”

“It’s…” You begin, but your shoulders slump with exhaustion. She was right. Why are you trying everything to hide it? “He showed me something. Something horrible. About our future, Hawkins. He threatened me, but I- I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t think terrifying everyone else was going to get us anywhere.”

“What did you see?”

“Monsters. Gates.” You gulp, the next word barely audible. “Death.”

“Shit.” Robin blinks, tightening her lips. “Yeah, that’s… that’s pretty terrifying.”

“We need to focus on Max.” You say, glancing over your shoulder to where they were testing out a rope. “We can’t… we can’t help her, or anyone else for that matter, if we’re too focused on the bad ending. And from what I saw…”

“What?” Robin frowns when you don’t speak.

“I don’t think it’s something we can fight.” You admit just as Steve yells out for you both.

“Come on, operation get the hell out of here is commencing. Move it.”

Steve guides Robin by her shoulder, making her frown in confusion. He points to the rope.

“What do you want me to do with that?”

“Climb it.” Steve says, like it was obvious.

“Seriously?” She cranes her neck to look up at it, an encouraging thumbs up from Dustin on the other side. She looks around to see no-one else is volunteering. “Guess I’m the guinea pig.”

She manages to catch your eye before reaching for the rope, unspoken words floating between you both as she focuses on her climb, ignoring the burn on her palms as she mustered up enough strength to reach the top.

The strangest feeling washes over her as her head passes through the gate, blood rushing to her face. She was upside down now, holding onto the rope.

And then she was falling, landing on a mattress with a soft thump, staring up at the ceiling of familiar faces.

“That was fun.” She announces as she accepts Dustin’s hand, pulling herself to her feet.

“Who’s next?” Nancy asks, and after that, everyone started to make their way to the other side.

Eddie landed first, grinning at everyone with a casual “That was fun.”

You passed through the gate next, smiling at Robin as she offers her hand and ignoring the unsettling feeling in your stomach as you stared back up at the gate, waiting.

Nancy readies herself on the rope, obviously affected by Steve’s nature to always be the last.

She didn’t climb.

“Nancy?” You’re the first to speak, stepping on top of the mattress to get a better look.

And then Steve was trying to shake her awake while the others searched in panic for music she would listen to. But you didn’t move.

You refused Vecna’s threat, and all of a sudden Nancy was now cursed? It didn’t feel like a coincidence.

It felt like your fault.

Nancy had snapped awake after a painfully chaotic chorus of panic, her wide eyes of horror speaking more to you than it would anyone else. You were relieved to know she wasn’t cursed, just another messenger for the dark wizard. You were in fear of knowing Vecna didn’t tolerate insubordination.

The things she had told everyone made Robin feel too sober, her back resting against a cabinet on the floor while they had all sat in silence, Nancy’s voice thick with tears.

Vecna wanted revenge, and that meant Hawkins was on his kill-list.

Robin couldn’t help glancing your way when Nancy started describing the details of your own vision, but your eyes were fixated on the carpet. She hadn’t known you for long, but she didn’t think you were ever this quiet.

“Four chimes.” Max suddenly says, cutting through the tense air. “Vecna’s clock. It always chimes four times. Four exactly.”

“I heard them too.” Nancy agrees shakily.

“He’s been telling us his plan this whole time.” Max realises, and Robin feels very sick.

“Four kills.” Lucas understands. “Four gates... End of the world.”

“If that’s true…” Dustin speaks, looking at Max, “He’s only one kill away.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Eddie mutters, rubbing his face, “Jesus Christ.”

“Try ‘em again.” Steve orders to no one in particular, pointing to the phone, “Try them again.”

Max nods and grabs the receiver to dial the number they had been trying for the past few minutes. You had hoped the Byers would be able to help, that El would come back and help you win this. But no one ever answered.

“What do we do now?”

Your voice was a surprise to everyone having been the only person unable to share your own input to Nancy’s visions. Your throat felt hoarse, and there was a pounding headache forming behind your eyes. It was all starting to feel hopeless.

“We’re going back to the Upside Down and we’re killing Vecna.” Nancy announces and Robin’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Hold on, wait, let’s think this through.” Steve objects, standing from the couch.

“What is there to think through?” She countered, crossing her arms.

“We barely made it out of there in one piece!” Steve stresses and you watch as they argue, unsure of who’s side to take.

“Because we weren’t prepared!” Nancy replies. “But this time, we will be. We’ll get weapons and protection. We’ll go through the gate, we’ll find his lair, and we’ll kill him.”

“Or he’ll kill us.” Steve says and across the room, Robin raises her eyebrows at you. “The only reason you survived is because he wanted you to. He’s not scared of us.”

“And for good reason.” Robin interrupts, standing up and clearing her throat, “We were wrong about Vecna. Henry. One. Sorry, what are we calling him now?”

“One.”

“Vecna.”

“Henry.”

“Right.” Robin breathes out, continuing. “We’ve learned something new about Vecna/Henry/One. He’s a number like Eleven, only a sick, evil, male, child-murdering version of her with really bad skin.”

“Ew.” Erica turns up her nose.

“But, my-my… my point is, he’s super powerful. He could turn us inside out with a snap of his fingers. It’s not a fair fight.”

“Then why fight fair?” Dustin intercepts and you turn around to look at him. “You’re right. He’s like Eleven. But that gives us an upper hand. We know Eleven’s strengths. And weaknesses.”

“What weaknesses?” You question with little effort, and Robin can’t help but feel a little upset at how hopeless you sound.

“When El remote-travels, she goes into this sort of trance-like state. I bet the same is true of Vecna.” Dustin explains.

“That would explain what he was doing in that attic.” Lucas comments.

“Exactly.” Dustin nods. “When he attacks his next victim, I’ll bet you he’s back in that attic, physical body defenceless.”

“Defenceless?” Steve raises his brows, gesturing to his bruised neck. “What about the army of bats?”

“True. We’ll have to find a way past them.” Dustin accepts, “Distract them somehow.”

“And, uh,” Eddie leans forward, “How do we do that exactly?”

“No idea. But once they’re gone, he doesn’t stand a chance.” He smiles, “It’ll be like slaying sleeping Dracula in his coffin.”

“That all sound good in theory, but there is no pattern to Vecna’s killings. I mean, at least not one that I can decipher.” Robin says, “We don’t know when he’s going to attack next. We don’t even know who he’s going to attack.”

“Yeah, we do.” Max speaks up and your stomach drops. “I can still feel him. I’m still marked. Cursed. I ditch Kate Bush, I draw his focus back to me.”

“What?” Your head whips up, frowning.

“Max. You can’t. He’ll kill you.” Lucas whispers out and she shrugs.

“I survived before.” She reminds him and Lucas frowns. “I can survive again.”

“How?” Robin observes the way you stare up at Max with a look of remorse. You really cared about these kids, about her. It’s why you were here in the first place. You could have flown back to Stanford, but you chose to stay.

Which is why the thought of Max sacrificing herself after all of this felt so absurd.

“I just need to keep him busy long enough so that you guys can get into that attic.” She says, slowly nodding. “Then you can chop his head off. Stab him in the heart. Or blow him up with some explosive Dustin cooks up, I honestly- I don’t care how you put this asshole in his grave, just… whatever it is… whatever you do… try not to miss.”

It sounded like her closing statement, an invisible signed document of her stubbornness. Nothing you could say would change her mind, and you knew she was right. This was the only way.

“Now all we need is a shit ton of weapons.” You sigh, spreading your hands in exasperation.

“Where the hell are we gonna get that?” Steve frowns, exchanging a look with Robin. “Doubt Officer Friendly is gonna let us raid the station.”

“No need.” Eddie suddenly stands, stretching his arms. “I know exactly where we can find them.”

Everyone frowns, some in confusion, some in concern. You roll your eyes.

“Don’t say War Zo-” You start, but Eddie doesn’t let you finish.

“War Zone!”

War Zone was pretty much how you assumed a store named that would look. It was a giant warehouse filled with aisles and aisles of anything you could possibly get your hands on. Guns, ammo, grenades, knives. All you could ever need for battle.

It was just a shame the only two excited for this trip had to be hidden from the public. You thought it was ironic that you were trying to avoid suspicion just after stealing a whole Winnebago.

“Hey!” Dustin protests as Steve sits him back down at the table, shaking his head.

“Sorry, man. It’s too risky.” He explains, but the curly-haired boy just pouts.

“Hellfire stays inside.” Nancy announces and despite Eddie’s look of disappointment, he didn’t kick up a fuss. He could look at guns another day, when there was no longer a price on his head.

“Okay, time for some… shopping.” Robin shrugs as Max jumps out of the RV behind you, slamming the door shut. “Are we, uh, looking for anything in particular?”

“Anything that looks like it’s gonna hurt.” You say, surprising the others. None of them object.

Swarms of mostly bulky men were walking down the aisles when you all entered, seemingly curious yet unbothered by your little group. You all definitely looked out of place.

“Uh… we should also probably look out for clothes.” You suggest, gesturing to Steve’s stark outfit. Your own was covered in black slime and dirt, much like Nancy and Robin’s.

“Good idea.” Steve says as he makes a beeline for the clothing department.

“I’m gonna head over to the guns. I’ve got an idea of what I want.” Nancy nods and Max takes Erica with her to the smaller section of knives and bug repellent.

“What do we think?” Robin asks with a lighter tone, posing with a beret on her head.

“You know what, it actually suits you.” You laugh and she flashes you a smile, throwing it into the shopping cart.

She begins to peruse the jewellery section next, making you chuckle in amusement as you spot Steve trying on a jacket further down.

It had been a while since either of you talked. After your vision in the Upside Down, you could tell he was walking on eggshells around you, much unlike your usual banter. Now that you think about it, you can’t remember the last time you had an honest conversation with you.

“So, weird question, but, um… how are we meant to be paying for this?” You question as you walk over to him, a surprised look on his face as he glances over at Robin. She seemed to be preoccupied by the studded belt in her hands.

“I’ve still got my whole compensation fund from Starcourt we could-”

He stops once he says it. Starcourt. He saw how your face drops without permission, giving him a small glimpse of the sadness that wore away inside you.

“I, uh… we could use my savings money.” You offer, trying anything to pretend like your momentary lapse of weakness didn’t happen. “I mean, it was meant for books and stuff back at Stanford but I feel like this is a much more important use for it considering the whole end of the world scenario we’ve found ourselves in.”

You attempt a laugh, but it came out with too little volume, and all too much air. You try to redirect your attention to the vest in front of you. It looked like tough leather, hopefully thick enough to add some protection to your frame.

“Sorry I’ve been such an asshole.”

The battle vest almost slipped from your hands as you turn to catch Steve’s eye. His expression was serious, an apologetic look pointed at you.

“Huh?” You frown, unsure when this sudden turn of conversation started.

“I haven’t really been grateful. To have you here with us, I mean. You literally dropped your life just to help us, and I’ve been nothing but an asshole to you. High school was years ago.”

“If it helps, I have also been an asshole, so…” You laugh and you manage to spark a smile on his face. “And of course I’m here. You are, too. I’m not the only one risking everything.”

You didn’t expect a genuine smile from Steve Harrington to ever be sent your way, but you found yourself smiling back. In so few words, it was like a war had been resolved between you. A long time coming, at that.

You watch as his gaze drifts to behind you, his brows furrowing.

“Uh… I’ll be right back.”

You turn to see him jog over to Robin, placing a hand on her back. From this distance, you could just see her standing there with a fallen expression, staring at something further down the aisle. You take two steps back, curiously searching for the source of her uncharacteristic torment, but you can’t see past the couple laughing together.

The guy was quite tall, someone you think you recognise from school. Dan, was it? He was smiling down at a girl not much younger than you, wearing a grin and ginger hair.

It took a second for the realisation to hit, and by then Steve and Robin had wondered back over to you, quickly explaining you all needed to leave before you were suddenly rushing back to the Winnebago, left to sit for a little while longer with your thoughts.

Why was Robin so upset about a random couple in the middle of War Zone?

Robin hadn’t expected to see Vickie anywhere, let alone a stupid illegal gun shop on the outskirts of Hawkins. It definitely caught her off-guard, and since she watched what little hope she maybe had left of dating suddenly kiss a man, it also felt right. After all, she was a pariah. That was all she was going to be.

“I don’t care.” She interrupts Steve’s attempt to rationalise the prior events, rambling about the impossibility of Vickie not liking women too.“And I don’t understand why you do either with everything that’s going on. Honestly, this feels like a perfect time for that little pull of the rug because… in the face of the world ending, the stakes of my love life feel spectacularly low.”

A sigh leaves her lips just in time for her to catch a glance of you across the field. You were sat cross-legged on the grass, laughing as Eddie and Dustin play-fought with their new and improved battle shields. As she sat just outside the Winnebago, holding a funnel for the molotov cocktails they had ordered, she feels a smile tugging at her lips when she sees your grin, and then she shakes it away as fast as she can. Not fast enough for it to go unnoticed.

“Aren’t you always telling me about all the fish in the sea?” He smirks, waggling his eyebrows and she grimaces. She knows he’s only joking, trying to tease her a little bit. But he doesn’t realise it wasn’t a game to her.

“Ew, no, don’t be gross.”

“I just think you’d be perfect together-”

“Okay.” She quickly stands up, almost spilling the bottles. “I think we’re running out of alcohol. I’m gonna go find some more.”

“Why are you being weird?” He frowns as she starts walking away. “But- we have enough bottles here!”

You heard Steve’s shout across the field as Dustin starts making a joke about bats, turning your head to see Robin was quickly walking away from him and disappearing inside the Winnebago. You were twisting grass between your fingers, staring longingly at the trailer home door. You wanted to talk to her. You needed to.

Your legs moved before your brain could comprehend it, marching you across that field with determination. There was no more putting it off. You couldn’t spend your last moments before what could be the end of the world sat on the grass wondering what would have happened if you’d just had the courage to open up.

Robin managed to compose herself for a bit, running her hands down her face and catching a glimpse of herself on a small mirror. Her mascara had rubbed off a little around her eyes, her hair now dirty and wild from the whirlwind of their adventures. With a sigh, she grabs another box of bottles. She so badly wanted a shower. Or at least to just curl up in her bed and pretend like the world was going to be just fine if she fell asleep.

She knew any minute now Steve would come looking for her, demanding answers. He was right. She was acting weird. But how else were you meant to act when you were slowly coming to the realisation that you’d be alone forever? How could she pretend to be normal when she had to sit and watch everyone else fall in love when she couldn’t, or reconnect with their high school sweethearts while she mourned the feeling of never experiencing teenage love?

She wasn’t normal. Nothing in her life felt more real than that.

“Hey.” You suddenly announce yourself and Robin drops the box she was holding, cursing under her breath as she scrambles to collect it before she lost all composure. You wince. “Sorry.”

“No, you- it just-” Robin presses her lips together, sighing. “I didn’t expect to see anyone in here.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” You grimace even harder, motioning to the door. “This was weird, I can go-”

“No!” She drops the box again, on the small table this time. “Uh… I mean, no. You don’t need to…”

There’s a moment of silence you really wished was comfortable, but even you couldn’t pretend it was anything other than awkward.

“Are you doing okay?” Robin blurts, unable to resist talking if it meant she didn’t have to stand there with her own thoughts for much longer. “With the whole, you know, being a Vecna prophet?”

“A prophet, huh?” You smirk, raising your eyebrow. “No, I’m, uh… I’m okay? I think. Just… god.”

You flop yourself down on the cushioned seats of the Winnebago, biting your lip.

“I should have done what he asked.” You admit, meeting her eyes as she slowly lowers herself to sit beside you. “Nancy is probably, I don’t know, traumatised now because I keep thinking making everything a secret is gonna solve everything. Like it ever has.”

“You were doing what you thought would protect us. That’s not a bad thing.” She shrugs, staring down at her hands. “You shouldn’t even have to be dealing with all of this in the first place.”

“No one would have guessed an evil mind wizard who lives in an alternate dimension would somehow use me to spread his villainous plans.” You chuckle, trying to find the humour in what had to be the scariest experience of your entire life.

“No.” She breathes an airy laugh, biting her lip. “But I made you come here.”

“What?” You looked taken-aback, blinking at her. “No, Robin… I’m here because I want to be.”

“But you hate Hawkins.” She says, twisting in the seat to face you so she could express herself with her hands more. “And I- I don’t blame you. You lost your father… you left for all good reasons. I shouldn’t have shown up at your door demanding help, it… I didn’t realise how badly it would affect you, or-”

“Robin.” You place a hand over hers and she stills, words cut from her mouth by a single touch. “I want to be here. What happened a year ago doesn’t define my actions now. It never did.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t leave because my dad died.” Your voice had gotten quieter, and Robin watched as your eyes started to glisten. “I… I left because Heather did.”

Robin frowns. Heather? Nancy mentioned a Heather back in the library after your first encounter, stating the two of you had known eachother since sophmore year. It had only been a passing comment. Robin only remembered the Heather with a plaque at the school, a soul lost to ‘the fire’. Flayed, Robin realises.

“Heather… Heather Holloway?” Robin asks and you nod, wiping away a tear that had slipped down your cheek. “Nancy told me you guys were friends.”

“Right. Friends.” You say almost bitterly, avoiding her eyes. Robin sends a quick glance to the door, making sure it was shut. She had a feeling this conversation wasn’t one you were going to be comfortable sharing with anyone else.

“Was Heather… was she more… more than a friend?” Robin’s mouth felt dry as she struggled with her words, hoping you didn’t return them with a laugh or disgust. And you didn’t. You only nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Back in the hospital, Starcourt… I had gone with Nancy and Jonathan to try and figure out what the hell was happening to Hawkins. Nancy told us it was related to Driscoll, that we had to hurry. I remember she wouldn’t tell me why she was so scared. But Jonathan let slip that they had been at Heather’s house…”

You take a deep breath, trying to relax your now tensing shoulders. “I kept asking them where Heather was, if they had seen her, if she was okay. I… I knew something was wrong. I hadn’t heard from her for a whole day, I even begged for their help when she went missing but they told me I was paranoid. But I was right in the end.”

“You were too late.” Robin whispers in realisation, and your glossy eyes find hers, nodding.

“Heather’s dad was at the hospital. So was mine.” You recall, twisting the corner of the cushion. “They were flayed, attacked us when we least expected it. My dad was telling me how Heather died, what they did. Right before he drove a knife into my shoulder.”

You gently push down the shoulder of your jumper to reveal a red scar, and Robin’s breath hitches.

“I don’t really remember much after that. Jonathan managed to get him off me. I think Nancy dragged me somewhere safe before a nurse found me.” You sigh, rolling your shoulder. “When I had woken up, my gran was the one to tell me about Starcourt, how my dad had died in the fire. And that Heather and her family had apparently burned in there too.”

“I’m so sorry.” Robin squeezes your hand, wiping away her own tears. She had wondered why Nancy and Steve seemed so hesitant about your story. Only now did she know it was because they couldn’t feel anything but guilt about how they treated you.

“Heather was my best friend, and more.” You smile before it broke, biting your lip, “I hated the thought of staying here. I was just so… angry. At the others. At myself. I had to leave.”

“I would have done the same.” Robin admits quietly. “To be honest… I don’t think I would have come back.”

“I wasn’t planning to.” You shrug, “But I needed to be here for my gran.”

“Does she…”

“Yeah. She knows about Heather and me.” You say, nodding. “I came out to my dad when I realised I liked Heather. He… he wasn’t happy about it. We fought a lot after that until my gran decided to take me in. She’s pretty great.”

“She sounds it.” Robin smiles.

“Being a girl into girls in a town like this…” You laugh, glancing out the window. “When I turned Steve down in sophmore year, I just remember the relentless torment from everyone around me. I didn’t even know I liked girls then, but I knew I was never going to say anything because if I refused a date with a guy and they all hated me for it, what would happen if I ended up dating a girl?”

“It was all so natural with Heather. She didn’t make me feel like a freak, or make me some kind of pariah. Because she understood me. And about a year after we became friends, after the whole Steve incident, we started dating.” You lean back into the seat, pouring your heart and soul to a girl you hoped you had met years ago. “Our dads worked together at the Post, and we had to keep it a secret. That’s why… that’s why everyone out there thought we were just friends. Because that’s what I told them.”

“No one out there would have judged you like that. Especially not Steve.” Robin insists and your face twists with uncertainty.

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s my best friend.”

You knew that. You saw it anytime they bickered or teased one another. You saw it when Steve went rushing over to her the second he sensed her posture drop in War Zone, whispering reassuring words to her on the field after.

Part of you had assumed when you first saw them together that there was no way they couldn’t be dating. So many factors could be against why they weren’t. There was only one you were nervously hoping for.

“That girl… the one at War Zone. You looked really upset…” You bite your lip, heart beating harder. “Is that because…”

“I know exactly how you feel.” She meets your eyes and you almost melt, suppressing a smile.

“Is that why you started acting weird when you found out Eddie was my ex?” You ask and she frowns, obviously curious about that. “I dated him because I thought he was cool, and nice. We broke up because I realised I was gay.”

“Oh.” She laughs, feeling incredibly stupid. “God, I was so sure- I literally hate myself right now.”

“So… does that mean… if you liked that girl…” You struggle to find the words, scrambling your mind with endless possibilities to just ask the question.

“I like you.” Robin finally says in a whisper and you smile.

“I like you, too.”

Her eyes flicker to your lips for just a moment, until she catches something, a red trail starting to stain your upper lip.

It all came crashing down after that.

“Y/n?!”

Steve must have heard her screaming because when he comes rushing in, your eyes are already rolled back, Robin’s hands holding onto your shoulders.

You weren’t a prophet after all.

You were a warning.

Chapter Eight: Stealing Hearts, Broken Souls ->

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