#farmers agitation

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Feral Twilight—it's just his instincts, okay?

ּ ֶָ֢. It wasn't until after his adventure that he began to lose his sanity. The loss was gradual. No one noticed until it was too late. After all, no being from the light world should ever cross into the Twili realm.

It has this habit of sentience. Twilight could always feel himself being watched. It wasn't just Midna or any of Zant's minions. It was this territorial force that was angered anytime someone from above came into its land.

Even after defeating Ganondorf, the essence of that anger still lingered. It was calmer but seemed more possessive. It began to want to possess a part of Twilight: his mind.

So after the mirror was shattered, that was a part of him he was never going to get back.

That's where you came in. Just an adventurer from another timeline.

ּ ֶָ֢. He meets you, and it's an instant attachment. Something about you appeases the broken, primal part of him. Wolfie needed to come out and play. All he wants to do is stay near you and listen. Even without his tail on him, you can practically hear the elated wagging of it.

That sealed your fate.

ּ ֶָ֢. He travels with you all throughout different versions of Hyrule. He helps you collect various weapons and treasures. He surprises you with gifts. He is just absolutely addicted to your face lighting up. He is able to smell the happy hormones wafting off of you.

That line within his mind between proper and animalistic grows thinner every day that you travel with him.

ּ ֶָ֢. When stumbling upon the other Links, he is immediately agitated. He is not willing to share your attention or love with any other version of himself. He's standoffish with the others when it comes to matters that concern you. He's quick to become riled up and then dismissive. Some of the others, especially Wind and Legend, enjoy teasing him about his 'little' crush on you.

In the earliest stages of meeting other Links, no one realizes how twisted Twilight's obsession is. He doesn't realize it either. It's just this nagging sensation in the back of his head that tells him he needs to keep you around. It's a variation of the same sensation he felt in the Twili realm.

ּ ֶָ֢. As the months go by, Time recognizes that there is something unhealthy about Twilight's relationship with you. Twilight refuses to leave you alone with another Link. The farmer always rooms with you. Twilight is the only one that helps you take care of chores. No one else is allowed to.

You end up with bruises that he suspects are from Twilight. You brush the worries off as Twilight just being playful. You assure Time that it is nothing serious. Time is still incredibly concerned.

"If Twilight does anything you don't consent to, tell me. Understand?"

Time is a safe place for you. Twilight sees that as a threat.

ּ ֶָ֢. In the dead of night, he ushers you away from The Chain. He tells you that there is something he must show you. You trust him, obviously. You follow him, and suddenly you are pinned under him. It's the first time you feel fear being around him. Your fear because of him is arousing. He doesn't do anything violent. He simply wraps his arms around you and nuzzles into your body.

"Twilight. Twilight?"

He didn't respond. He would simply have a pleased growl escape his throat.

ּ ֶָ֢. The night turned into the day, and suddenly you weren't anywhere near the other Links. You were in the forest with Twilight, and now you're back at his farm. He kept you there. He only allowed you into the village. You are not allowed to go farther than that. 

He marks you up and is barely able to form words. He nestles into you any time either of you has nothing to do.

It's strange and a bit unconventional at times. You have thought about running away. You have spent your entire life adventuring, and suddenly you were kidnapped by your closest traveling companion.

You are too afraid to try to escape. You are convinced that Twilight would be able to find you anywhere in the multitude of lines that thread together the intricacies of time.

ּ ֶָ֢. That line no longer exists in his mind. He will always keep you with him. His tongue may not work, but his desires do. He listens to your protests and never crosses that line, even if he has to take care of himself in the privacy of the back of the barn.

You didn't need to know what he did for you. You only know that the rest of The Chain won't be coming to save you.

[missterious-figure]

Jungle Beast Moon! (Yep, he's a planty boy!)

Moon is not as trusting as Sun, and is more likely to becoming aggressive with little to no agitation. He's a spiteful gremlin towards humans, like y/n, and loves to cause as much trouble as he can for them. But after you get to know him better and he warms up to you, he becomes much more mellow. He still likes to tease, though. He has a wound on the side of his face from a bullet glazing it. Moon had attacked a farmer who shot Sun so his companion could get away to safety.

Moon can actually get energy from photosynthesis, but he uses moon light instead. This is because he needs special UV radiation that comes from the moon. But he can't sustain himself only on light. He is also carnivorous, and eats meat as well. The powder that comes from his tail and head tendrils makes anything that breathes it in sleepy. If he was ever in true danger and needed to get away, he'd shake off so much powder it would create a smoke screen big enough to envelop a football field. (Oh yeah, he's both venomous and poisonous. So don't try to eat him or let him try to eat you)

[alienpossession]

My stepson is a rather troublesome kid, especially after his mother's passing. He soon dropped out of college, losing the sense of direction he had and just straight out spiralled into a mess. Not to mention that his coping mechanism involved him to hung out with the wrong crowd and start smoking too despite his mother in the past clearly forbid him since he was a prospective star athlete. He also started to grow agitated to the world and overall just disrespect authorities, which included me as the last person that is bold enough to reprimand him while on his way to do his antics

After one of our early morning argument as he arrived back home from clearly a long night he did doing God knows what, he just stormed into his room after giving me a middle finger and cursed under his breath. I decided that enough is enough and I did what I knew best to handle reckless and wild human like that

You see....I was not from this planet. I arrived around 20 years ago into this farmland where I stumbled with this young studly farmer that just about to start his days. I slid into him and never left his body as I decided that I would be safe and undetected as long as I did not slid out of him while the search for me was still active. I was paranoid that if I ever left this body, suddenly the detection system spotted me so I resisted the temptation to leave and remained hidden inside while controlling this human that I cultivated into the best version it could be. But this little punk really pushed me to my limit. I'm just so desperate trying to prove my humanity and ability to disciplined the smaller and younger human I supposedly have authority over, I pushed myself out and slid into the sleeping body of my stepson. Once I slid in, I went straight to his brain and started to work it while he's sleeping soundly with zero awareness that a far more intelligent being is currently rewiring his organ responsible for free thinking into one filled with obedience and submissiveness. I was not necessarily the expert on brain's anatomy but I know which part I should and should not touch. Once I felt like my job has been precisely executed, I slid out of his brain and entered back to my original vessel.

Now, imagine my surprise that not only I made that punk into a more docile and submissive version of himself, I somehow made him gay too as I checked on him after the rework I did to his brain. And I guess I graced the part where he can pick up aroma even more strongly this time and that caused him to be a musk-whore for everything's sweaty and pungent. His obsession to his own pits clearly were a sight to behold as it was a far cry from his womanizer self I have to witness for the past few years he brought home girls to his bedroom.

Aside from his own self, he also loved me. Not the usual familial love, this boy is clearly fucked in the head as he viewed me as some sort of authority to please. It's like him calling me daddy is laced with sexual innuendo rather than the usual way a kid called up his parents. So, like the good father I am and to avoid getting him jumped on me while I sleep as I didn't satisfy his needs, I decided to change our family time where I asked him to have dinner with me to him sniffing my feet and servicing my needs. It's not as cool (and normal human looking) as having him seated next to me watching the TV together or having warm dinners, but that's the way we live nowadays and not like he's complaining anyway.

I guess I really need to do better with all this brain rewiring

[thedovesaredying]

Monsters in the Dark | Nikto x Reader | Part 4

The long awaited part 4 of the Cowboy!Nikto series, set within the cowboy AU originally created by @ghouljams Sorry this took so long to get out, I've been really hecking busy these last few weeks with exams and assignments for uni.

A/N: Fun fact, during lectures, tutorials and even in the middle of exams we occasionally have students who have kangeroo joeys chilling in little joey bags at the end of the room since the babies need to be taken everywhere so they can be fed on time. It's just a normal, everyday occurance to have a baby marsupial hanging out in your bag or stuffed down your shirt, idk what to tell y'all, that's just how vet school be lmao.

Warnings: None.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

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Murphy’s store, from what little you’ve managed to gather of it during your few months living in the area, is often a rather busy place. It’s the nearest feed store for miles around, frequented daily by the masses of farmers seeking to keep their stock well maintained with only the best produce on offer. Not only is the feed, grain and harvest on offer top of the line, but everything can be purchased for a bargain deal if one knows how to barter. Even if the prices weren’t so good, it would be impossible to travel the long distance to the next town over, the price of the gas alone enough to send most bankrupt.  

You don’t need to go there often, just to pick up supplies for the animals being cared for by the clinic or collect orders for your coworkers while you’re passing through. However, since it’s such a hub of activity, the feed store is one of the best places in town to interact with the locals. It’s the center of gossip and the ideal way to gather new information on what’s happening.  

You’re almost done with collecting the items you need, several bags shoved under one of your arms and a bottle of pest spray in the other. The somewhat peaceful surrounds are disturbed by what sounds like a familiar voice. Curious, you head toward the front counter, poking your head around the corner of one of the aisles.  

Much to your surprise, it’s exactly who you thought it was, and you can only watch as Nikto continues to loudly argue with another man standing close to the front counter. On further observation, however, it seems less like an actual argument and more like a one-sided shouting match. The poor store owner, Murphy, is trying to separate the two agitated men to very little success.  

Partially wanting to save whatever poor soul is currently being torn to pieces, and partially wanting to find out what has the normally stoic Russian raising his voice, you quickly make your way to the front of the store. After depositing your purchases onto the counter, you cautiously approach the two men. 

“Nikto?” you call, almost jumping when his head snaps toward you with such speed that you briefly worry he’s given himself whiplash. His frigid eyes pin you in place, somehow seeming to burn with rage while also remaining ice cold. Yet, you can see the recognition as it passes through his gaze, his hard stare suddenly becoming calm between one blink and the next.  

“Are you okay?” you ask, ignoring Murphy as he starts dragging the other man away by the arm while Nikto is momentarily distracted. You don’t get a response other than Nikto blinking owlishly at you and try calling his name again. That seems to finally snap him out of his confused stupor, and he gives you a firm nod.  

“We are fine,” Nikto scoffs, sudden enough that you almost jump, “we can handle ourselves against a civilian.” He hefts up the bag of feed sitting at his feet, resting it over his good shoulder.  

“What happened?” you ask, frowning as you glance over to where the other man appears to be getting quite the chewing out from Murphy. Nikto just waves off your concern and places down a small handful of notes on the front counter. You quickly grab out your own wallet to start counting out your own cash, putting down a rather generous amount given you don’t think Murphy will be free to discuss anything for a while.  

You trot along after Nikto’s retreating form, only just managing to keep up with his lengthy stride while juggling your purchases. His body is rigid and you can tell something is bothering him, but he hasn’t complained about your presence yet, so you continue to follow him through the carpark.  

When he finally reaches his truck, he easily tosses the bag of feed into the tray with a small huff. He brushes the dust off his hand and onto the side of his jeans, giving them a firm slap to try and get rid of the excess. The sound causes movement from the inside of the truck and a moment later a black snout pokes through the small opening, wet nose rapidly sniffing away.  

Through the heavily tinted windows you can see Sputnik’s whole body excitedly wiggling at the sight of both you and her owner, doing her best to try and shove as much of her massive head through the tiny air gap as physically possible. Seemingly realising that she can’t get much more out of the crack, she starts whining rather loudly with a few sad little cackles. It pulls at your heartstrings just enough to make you lift your hand up for her to sniff at, only to earn some slobbery kisses from her eager tongue.  

Your giggle draws Nikto’s attention back from wherever it’s wandered and he blinks at the scene before him. “Спутник!” he grunts, trying to shoo her head away, but only ends up getting a lick of his own in return. His grumbling just has you snickering slightly, especially when the hyena starts trying to bite his gloves off.  

The laugher, however, disturbs something else, and a moment later there’s wriggling against your chest. The movement immediately draws Nikto’s attention to the space between your breasts and he seems to frantically switch between averting his gaze from your chest and blatantly starting at the weird motion occurring under the fabric of your shirt.  

You quickly toss the items you were carrying into your bag before shoving a hand down the inside of your shirt. “Sorry, I think he’s a little hungry, he’s due a feeding soon,” you explain, retrieving a tiny baby opossum from the inside of your shirt. It squeaks and tries to wrap its tiny paws around your thumb, yawning so widely that its tiny eyes squeeze closed.  

Nikto blinks at the baby opossum. The baby opossum blanks back.  

He looks at you and then back at the opossum again, looking to be searching for a single question that encompasses everything he wants to know. You decide to save him from the obvious confusion and offer him an explanation, “he was orphaned when his mother got hit by a truck the other day. The rest of his siblings didn’t survive the night, but this little fella seems to be quite determined to hold on.” 

Nikto just slowly nods, “and it is in the shirt because...?” His head tilts a little too the side when the opossum decides to nuzzle its tiny face into your hand and drift back off to sleep again.  

You feel a little stupid for not answering the obvious and snort to yourself before launching into an explanation, “well, normally I’d have my daytime joey bag for looking after marsupial babies since they like dark, warm places to sleep, but it’s in the wash currently and he’s too tiny to be put in any of my other bags so...” you trail off with a half-shrug, “seemed as good a place as any.”  

“This is a regular occurrence?” he asks, and even if you couldn’t see his eyes, you can practically hear the raised eyebrow.  

“No, I just have one in case something like this happens,” you gesture at the sleeping joey with a raised eyebrow of your own, “I’m taking him to a wildlife carer the next town over, tonight.”  

Nikto hums, thoughtful, but is yet to appear convinced. He tries to pet the head of the little opossum but gets only an angry hiss from the animal in return. He looks a little put out by that and squints at the little ball of fluff, “we are certain it is not rabid, да?”  

You just scoff at him, gently placing the animal back into your shirt, “I wouldn’t be holding him if he was rabid, besides, opossums don’t normally carry rabies, their body temperature is too low for it to survive.” The joey briefly pokes its head out of your shirt, squinting back at Nikto almost as fiercely, “he can probably just smell Sputnik on you, that’s all.”  

At the mention of her name, Sputnik starts yowling rather pathetically, whining and trying to gnaw at the window’s edge in an attempt to get through to you. Her eyes are round and wet, and her bottom lip is quivering like a toddler about to burst into tears. You’d love to give her a pet and a smooch on the top of her head, but you get the feeling she’d try to take a chunk out of your little friend.  

“How long will you be gone?” Nikto eventually asks, waving at Sputnik in a futile attempt at calming her distressed cries.  

You briefly pull out your phone, glancing at the time, “it’s a little late now, so I might end up staying there overnight, but I’ll be back sometime around midday,” you hum, tucking the mobile away again, “why, gonna miss me?” You grin at your companion, doing your best not to laugh at his rather dramatic eyeroll.  

“нет, but our спутник will cry,” he pokes at her nose, ignoring how she tries to lick his finger in return.  

You give in to the urge to coo at the heartbroken hyena, squeezing your fingers inside the truck to tickle at her chin, “well then, we can’t have this poor girl being sad, can we?” She has no idea what you’re saying, but that doesn’t stop her from fogging up the glass with her happily little huffs. “You’ll owe me for all the snuggles I’m going to have to give this little sweetheart when I get back.”  

“We will offer you a drink, for the suffering you must endure,” he nods sagely, and you laugh at his solemn response.  

You point a finger at him, raising an eyebrow, “I’ll be holding you to that, it’s impossible to get a good drink out here.” Heaving your bag up onto your shoulder and checking that your little opossum friend is still accounted for, you offer Sputnik a little pet on the top of her snout.  

“I’ll see you two around,” you chirp, offering Nikto a polite little wave, delighted when he gives you a stiff nod in return. He’s certainly far from the warmest of individuals, but he’s grown a little less frigid toward you in recent weeks and that only makes you more eager to break through his frosty exterior.  

You hope into your own truck and toss everything into the passenger side seat. You’ve got a long day ahead, and a tiny baby hankering for some food. With luck, your drive to the next town over won’t take too long and you’ll be able to enjoy some downtime without constantly being on call for what feels like every farmer for a hundred miles.  

You were only half serious with your demands for a drink, but for some reason you can’t quite stomp down the giddy feeling deep in your belly at the thought.

[bookshelfdreams]

Favourite german colloquialisms and idioms

Ein Freund zum Pferdestehlen (lit: a friend to steal horses with) A reliable, loyal, and trustworthy friend, someone you can depend on 100%

Mit jemandem ein Hühnchen zu rupfen haben (lit: to have a chicken to pluck with someone) to have an unfinished argument/dispute/disagreement with someone that one will finish as soon as they see the person again, who will then probably "experience their blue miracle" (sein/ihr blaues Wunder erleben): get their ass handed to them.

Die Sau rauslassen (lit: to let the sow loose) To throw down at a party

Sows are generally an intensifier. Either in wie Sau (as fuck), the adverb saumäßig, or just add the prefix sau- to an adjective of your choice.

Auf dem Teppich bleiben (lit: to stay on the carpet) to quit being overdramatic, to stay grounded in reality and not let emotions take over a debate. Same meaning: Die Kirche im Dorf lassen (lit: to leave the church in the village)

Das geflügelte Wort (lit: the winged word) Figure of speech, idiom

Sich etwas ans Bein binden (lit: to tie something to one’s leg) To burden oneself with something that’s more trouble than it’s worth

Das Leben ist kein Ponyhof (lit: life is no pony farm) Life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows

Jemandem den Marsch blasen (lit: to blow the march for someone) to scold someone very harshly. Also: jemandem die Meinung geigen (to play someone one’s opinion on the violin), jemanden anscheißen (to shit on someone)

Auch ein blindes Huhn findet mal ein Korn (lit: even a blind chicken  sometimes finds a seed) A stopped clock is right twice a day

Backfisch (m.) (lit: baked fish) teenage girl; this one's a bit old-fashioned

Nicht alle Tassen im Schrank haben (lit: to miss some cups from the cupboard) To be crazy, insane, idiotic. The things people can miss to express this sentiment are quite diverse (and this is something people really like to get creative with): needles from the fir tree, battens from the fence, lightbulbs from the chandelier, cookies from the jar…

Die Radieschen von unten ansehen (lit: to view radishes from below) To be dead. Variations exist with almost any plant imaginable, most notably tulips and grass

Was die Sonne nicht heilt, deckt die Erde zu (lit: what the sun can’t heal, the earth shall cover) This health problem will either resolve itself or the speaker will die from it, in any case it will be over eventually

Da warst du noch Quark im Schaufenster (lit: Back then you were curd in the shop window) Back then, you weren’t even conceived

Eine (neue) Sau durchs Dorf treiben (lit: to drive a (new) sow through the village) to manufacture short-lived public outrage that will soon be replaced by a new scandal

Hanswurst (m) (lit: Hans Sausage) a ridiculous, funny person, fool, clown (but not an actual clown from the circus)

Man hat schon Pferde (vor der Apotheke) kotzen sehen (lit: horses have been seen vomiting (in front of the pharmacy)) stranger things have happened

wilde Ehe (lit: wild marriage) to live together/have a family together without being actually married

Bauernfänger (m.) (lit: farmer catcher) Conman. Not to be confused with:

Rattenfänger (m.) (lit: rat catcher) political agitator, demagogue

Noch feucht hinter den Ohren sein (lit: to be still wet behind the ears) to be inexperienced/a newbie

Du hast wohl den Schuss nicht gehört (lit: Have you not heard the shot?) Are you out of your fucking mind?

Da sind Hopfen und Malz verloren (lit: hops and malt are lost here) A hopeless case

Völkerverständigung (f.) (lit: understanding between peoples/nations) Getting to know people from other nations, making an effort to understand their culture and showing them yours in turn. The building of international relationships based on mutual respect and equality. Diplomacy. Also: Völkerfreundschaft (friendship between peoples/nations)

Sich den Arsch aufreißen (lit: to rip one’s ass open) to work very hard

Es ist noch kein Meister vom Himmel gefallen (lit: no master has fallen from the sky yet) nobody is born an expert; keep trying and you’ll get there!

Mach mal die Augen zu, dann siehst du was deine ist (lit: close your eyes then you’ll see what’s yours) I heard this a lot as a child and now I never feel entitled to anything, ever

Da geht mir das Messer in der Tasche auf (lit: this opens the knife in my pocket) I think this is infuriating and I’m about to figuratively stab you (loads of expressions for this sentiment but this is my fave)

Kinderstube (f) (lit: children’s chamber) upbringing, education. Someone who doesn’t have Kinderstube has no manners

Waisenknabe / Chorknabe (m) (lit: orphan boy / choir boy) someone who is innocent, virtuous, well-behaved and an all-around lovely person. Often used ironically.

Maulaffen feilhalten (lit: to sell mouth monkeys) to stand around gaping with your mouth open instead of doing something useful

Ach du grüne Neune/liebes Lieschen (lit: oh you green nine/dear Lieschen) oh my!

Käseblatt (n) (lit: cheese sheet) a newspaper of very poor journalistic quality

Jemandem ein X für ein U vormachen (lit: to try to sell an X as a U) To scam or trick someone. Same meaning: Jemanden über den Tisch ziehen (to drag someone over the table). Not to be confused with:

Jemanden/etwas durch den Kakao ziehen - (lit: to drag someone/something through the cocoa) To make fun of or parody someone/something

Steckenpferd (m.) (lit: stick horse) hobby

Da will man nicht tot überm Zaun hängen (lit:  where one doesn’t want to hang dead over the fence) Just to make sure you know exactly how awful this town/village and its inhabitants are

Schnapsidee (f) (lit: schnapps idea) an idea that only a very drunk person would conceive of or consider good

Held im Erdbeerfeld (lit: hero in the strawberry field) Someone who sees themself as a great hero without any real skills/achievements to back this up

Leben wie Gott in Frankreich (lit: to live like God in France) to live the high life

[empressofkingfishers]

how the Bishops handled revival

while originally they could handle their injuries as Bishops, the same cannot be said when they're "mortal" and without their crowns.

Shamura: initially unconscious upon arrival and heavily bleeding. It’s only thanks to the quick work of Kallamar (who was on his feet by then) and the healers that prevented them from dying again. Upon coming out of a fragile state they're agitated, confused and aggressive; lashing out and hurting anyone who came near them, even their own siblings. Only Witness Allocer and Kallamar handled them. Eventually they settled, which happened much quicker with Narinder by their side. On bad days they tend to lash out or have episodes similar to dementia. That's thankfully happening less and less as time goes on. Sewing and knitting calms them so that's their job.

Kallamar: woke up and was unable to stand up straight and walk properly due to the damage to his ears. Eventually he succumbed to illness due to having a weakened immune system (he always had a weak one before the Blue Crown chose him.) Saleos mostly took care of him with Narinder helping. He had to be taught sign language for days when there's a lot of noise (think festivals). [Sign language is taught to many of the cultists. they may be a cult but they ARE inclusive!] Mostly avoids Narinder and tries not to catch Lamb's eye. Lives with Saleos (he was the youngest of Kallamar's disciples so he out lived Haborym and Baalzebub.) Will fall sick easily when there's sickness around, so as a healer he focuses his expertise on common colds (which he has an easier time shaking off) and physical injuries.

Heket: was choking on her blood when she awoke, would have died from blood loss had the healers not stepped in quick enough. Because of her ripped throat Heket was unable to eat food for several days, which was agony for her. All she could 'eat' was the water and thin broth the healers dripped into her mouth. Narinder and Leshy stayed by her side as she slowly recovered. Struggles to talk due to physical trauma so she had to be taught sign language to speak. She's a decent cook.

Leshy: was bleeding from his eyes but wasn't in any danger of dying. Was a pain in the ass for the healers however, he didn't make things easier with his wriggling and cursing. Once the pain eased, however, he calmed down and took his current situation well. It helped that Narinder kept him company. Occasionally uses a cane when there's crowds, more structures built, etc. Other than that he can get around just fine using the vibrations in the earth to help guide him. Is a farmer but does bartend on occasion.

TL;DR-

Shamura: where am I? i'm scared i'm angry i'm going to rip someone's arm off if they come near me where is my cat

Kallamar: oh my god i've been puking for five days straight and my head feels like it's spinning

Heket: (sad dying frog noises as her stomach growls)

Leshy: y'know I kinda like it here.

[correlance]

Remember that one fan theory I wrote about Alastor having a rivalry with Thomas Edison in the 1920s? Well, I decided to do a bit more research; it turns out that, not only was I right, but Edison really hated radio. He loathed it so much that he wrote not one, but several articles railing against the "radio fad" in 1926, to the point where an anonymous person wrote "letters to the editor" to argue with Edison.

Gee, I wonder who it could be doing that in the Hazbin-verse? /s

GIF and art originally by karumkin on Twitter/X (2019).

There was also a slew of increasingly aggressive telegrams sent back-and-forth between Edison and radio proponents, with Edison penning thinly-veiled insults that offended even mild critics of the "Wizard":

"The radio is a commercial failure, and its popularity with the public is waning. Radio is impractical commercially, and ethically distorted, and is is losing its grip rapidly in the market and in the home. There is not 10% of the interest in the radio that there was last year.

Radio is a highly-complicated machine in the hands of people who know nothing about it. No dealers have made any money out of it. It is not a commercial machine, because it is too complicated. Reports from 4,000 Edison dealers who have handled radio sets show that they are rapidly abandoning it; and, as for its music, it is awful.

I don't see how they can listen to it. Thousands of people have signed a petition asking that sopranos be kept off the air. Of course, most of them don't know that the soprano voice distorts the radio. The phonograph is coming into its own because people want good music. The fact is that the radio never had a high peak of popularity.

In towns where 25 or 30 dealers were handling radio sets, only one or two are now handling them. A farmer 5 miles from town buys a radio, perhaps on the installment plan. A wire becomes loose. The dealer has to arrange to fix it. This happens time and time again. The business becomes unprofitable for the dealer to engage in. He does not make any money out of it. None of them has. They are giving it up as fast as they can. It is not a commercially successful machine, because it is too complicated.

Static is awful, and the difficulties of tuning out--and now, they're stealing each other's wavelengths! It is too bad that the radio has to be too complicated. It was a big and interesting thing, and the people responded to it, but they want good music, and they found it is not to be had on the radio. That is why the phonograph is reclaiming its own."

Quote from "Edison and Radio", Radio News, December 1926, "in which the Editor takes issue with Mr. Edison's claim that radio is a failure; yet it is pointed out that the radio industry owes Edison a great debt; wherein facts are figures are given to show that radio is on a steady increase; granting that neither radio, nor the phonograph, is yet perfect; how the interest in radio is steadily increasing, and radio dealers are now making good money":

"Since the publication of the famous interview with Mr. Edison, the press, and particularly the radio press across the entire country, has been more or less agitated...I do believe that Mr. Edison has not been recently in-touch with radio sufficiently to appreciate fully the tremendous advances that have been made. Mr. Edison is a busy man, and a tremendously busy inventor. It would be well-nigh impossible for him to be in-touch with all of the various commercial phases of radio all over the country; and, like other executives, he obtains his reports from his subordinates, and such reports often as not may be highly colorful, and even wrong...[thus, the radio industry is unwilling to accord Mr. Edison anything]...as to Mr. Edison's remarks, the statements that follow are facts, which can be checked up by anyone who is unbiased."

Imagine Alastor and Vox with "Stayed Gone" in Episode 2, and Alastor and Lucifer with "Hell's Greatest Dad" in Episode 5, but happening entirely over letters and telegrams, because mass media and television didn't exist yet. The closest musical numbers would likely be "Farmer Refuted" and "Your Obedient Servant" from Hamilton.

Per the book The Wizard of Menlo Park: How Thomas Alva Edison Invented the Modern World by Randall E. Stross:

Page 276: "[Edison's] phonograph business faced a challenge in the 1920s unlike any that had come before: the advent of commercial radio stations, and the wide availability of free music broadcasts and other entertainment. By the end of 1921, an estimated 1 million listeners had access to radios, and listened to programs broadcast from the Eastern seaboard. A single station in Roselle, New Jersey, which offered the voices of operatic stars among its musical programs, had a broadcast range of a thousand miles, covering New England and the mid-Atlantic states, and reaching as far west as Missouri. A contemporary newspaper account explained to readers not yet acquainted with the phenomenon that those who owned radio sets could enjoy entertainment that was 'literally as free as the air'. Charles and Theodore Edison [proposed a combination phonograph-radio]...their father need not feel slighted because the vacuum tube, a key component of the radio set, was a modern descendant of Edison's experimental work on the incandescent lightbulb. Edison did feel slighted, however; such, at least, was the opinion of Thomas Cowan, a former Westinghouse employee...[who conducted experiments in radio broadcasts with the aid of a phonograph Edison was willing to loan him in 1921]. Cowan had several conversations about radio with Edison, who became upset and recalled the loaner when he heard the Westinghouse broadcasts...[Edison's sons were embarrassed, humiliated]."

"Edison calls radio a 'failure for music', thinks phonograph will regain its own": The New York Times, 23 September 1926. Underlining the usefulness of radio for purposes other than musical programs, Edison did tune in to a radio broadcast of the Dempsey-Tunney fight in 1926, which he was too deaf to hear. He had to rely on family members [usually his wife, Mina] to summarize what had transpired at the end of each round.

"Radio satisfactory on bout, Edison says": The New York Times, 24 September 1926. Defending the quality of musical broadcasts, the radio industry offered expert testimony to rebut Edison's claims [in the next week's newspaper]. See: "Broadcasters disagree with electrical wizard", The New York Times, 3 October 1926.

The "radio fad": A few months later, [after much outcry from the radio industry], Edison was willing to grant that radio might not disappear, but he had a new criticism: listeners' aesthetic sense would be damaged. "Undistorted music, in time, will sound strange to those brought up on radio music," he predicted, "and they will not like the real thing." See: "Thomas A. Edison sees a menace for music in the radio", Musician, January 1927.

"Edison's fears [about the Edison Company not succeeding in the radio business] were realized, though it had been Edison's intransigence (refusal to change one's views) that put the company at such a great disadvantage as a late entrant...on 9 October 1929, Charles Edison prepared a report for his father that showed a loss of $1.3 million due to start-up costs for the [Edison] radio...he could not know that, two weeks later, the stock sell-off would begin with Black Thursday, on 24 October, followed by Black Monday and Black Tuesday...a few days later, Thomas A. Edison, Inc., announced that it would cease producing [music] records [altogether], and refit the factory for the production of radios. The announcement was accompanied by a mention of regret, as the phonograph was 'one of Mr. Edison's favorite inventions'."

"An employee reported observing Harvey Firestone tearfully explaining to Edison that the collapse of business due to the stock market crash of 1929, and the Great Depression, meant that he could no longer continue to financially support Edison's laboratory. Edison was heard, sneering, 'He's a Goddamned lightweight.'" ("I saw your fiasco on the picture show, and I just couldn't resist. What a performance! Why, I haven't been that entertained since the stock market crash of 1929, hahaha! ...so many orphans.")

Edison's death at the age of 84 on 18 October 1931 was also, ironically, commemorated through radio broadcasts: "[The next] night, two radio networks, the National Broadcasting Company (NBC) and the Columbia Broadcasting Company (CBC), jointly broadcast an 8-minute tribute that ended on the hour, when listeners were asked to turn out the lights. The White House did so, and much of the nation followed, more or less together, some a minute before the hour, others on the hour. On Broadway, 75% of the electrified signs were turned off briefly. Movie theaters went dark for a moment. Everything seemed connected to Edison: the indoor lights, the traffic lights, the electric advertising, everyone connected via radio, which Edison now received credit for helping to 'perfect'. In the simple narrative that provided inspiration for posterity, one man had done it all..."

Some numbers provided for how much radio was making:

1922: $46.5 million (~$860 million in 2024)

1923: $120 million (~$2.2 billion in 2024) (156% increase)

1924: $350 million (~$6.3 billion in 2024) (186% increase)

1925: $449 million (~$8 billion in 2024) (27% increase)

1926: $520 million (~$9.1 billion in 2024) (14% increase)

Overall, per another source:

1922: $60 million (a little more than the previous statistic)

1929: $842.6 million

From here, we can tell the biggest gain was in 1923-1924. Per another source: "Total cost was about $120.00 to buy a new radio in 1926; in today's money, that is about $1,500 to own a radio." That would mean that 7.6 million radios were sold by 1926; an impressive feat, considering that the United States only had a population of a little over 117 million people at the time.

Percentages of United States households with radios:

1925: 19% (5 million households)

1929: 35-40% (200% increase)

1930: 12 million households

1939: 28 million households

The number of licensed broadcast stations surged from just 5 in 1921 to 500 by 1924, per yet another source. In the early years, household radio ownership was highest in the Northeast and on the West Coast. In large sections of the South, Midwest and Great Plains, stations and radio sets were scarce. However, there were notable exceptions.

There were 732 radio stations total across the country by 1927, and the average radio was on 2 hours and 25 minutes per day. People who couldn't afford radios purchased them on installment loans, through which the full price of a new radio could be paid over time. Radios had even more advertisements for washers, dryers, and refrigerators, causing people to use even more merchant credit and installment loans to purchase these shiny, new technological devices.

However, radio sales also took a hit with the Great Depression, as average income levels fell from $3,270 per year in 1920 ($53,300 in 2024), to $2,300 per year by 1929 ($41,500 in 2024), then to $1,500 per year by 1932 ($35,500 in 2024). However, buying a radio also became cheaper, dropping from a costly $200 ($3,200 in 2024) in the early 1920s, to just $35 ($630 in 2024) by 1929-1930.

By the time Alastor died in 1933, 3.6 million radio sets were sold that year alone. By the mid-1930s, 67% of American households had radio sets, and by 1939, about 80% of Americans—over 100 million people—owned radios. Radios were in almost every house, and some Americans even had radios in their cars. The Golden Age of Radio lasted from the 1930s to the 1940s, before being eclipsed by television in the 1950s. Radio hosts went from being paid $10 per broadcast in 1921 ($180-200, 1-2 hours per night, 3-4 nights a week, for a weekly salary of $720-800; monthly salary, $2,900-$3,200; annual salary, $34,800-$38,400; modern-day annual salary range for a radio show host is $30,000-100,000, depending) to making triple-figure salaries in the later 1930s.

Another source lists the following salary ranges for radio hosts:

$2,500-2,700 a year to be an announcer in 1927* (~$45,000-$48,000 range in 2024)

$2,400 a year to be a dramatic director (~$43,000 in 2024)

$4,000 a year to be a program director (~$72,000 in 2024)

New Orleans' first radio broadcast was on 31 March 1922, with WWL. The station wasn't started as a commercial one; but rather, "more of an experiment, started as an interest in wireless communication picked up nationally". The station did not go commercial until 1929, meaning that Alastor also probably had at least one other side job.

Also see:

"Early Radio Announcers Invented Their Profession in the 1920s"

"The History of the Radio Industry in the United States to 1940"

"'A Godlike Presence': The Impact of Radio on the 1920s and 1930s" by Tom Lewis

American Babel: Rogue Radio Broadcasters of the Jazz Age by Clifford John Doerksen (see excerpt here)

Race and Radio: Pioneering Black Broadcasters in New Orleans by Bala James Baptiste (Note: The earliest Black broadcast in New Orleans was in 1945, meaning Alastor was white-passing.)

"Golden Age of Black Radio - Part 1: The Early Years" (Note: The first Black radio announcer, Jack L. Cooper, hosted in 1929.)

"How African Americans Entered Mainstream Radio" by Bala James Baptiste, the author of Race and Radio: Pioneering...

[visinox]

IT'S MINECRAFT TIME AGAIN I said I might cook more minecraft stuff and I hath done it. A friend of mine asked if I would be designing the other default skins in minecraft as well, and the answer was YES

Summary of each of them is under the cut. If you don't want to be hit with a text wall then I'll see you in the next post when it comes out approximately 1,000 years from now!

Sunny:

Found by villagers, he was given to and raised by the village nitwit. He grew up into a kind, helpful, gentle young man, though despite his happy and carefree disposition, he is also quite wise and gives good advice to those who need it. He works as a fisherman, farmer, and general handyman for the iron golems in his village.

Efe:

A skilled swordswoman born in the Nether, and raised by wither skeletons. Witty, sarcastic, loyal, and a little dramatic are all words that describe her. There is an air of mystery about her though, given her strange immunity to wither an her occasional admissions of hearing whispers of the fallen Wither itself.

Noor:

Raised by pillagers, specifically an Evoker, Noor was raised a soldier. Serious, quiet, blunt and commanding, she has an intimidating presence even without considering her ability to use fangs.

Ari:

Ari was found and raised by a colony of monsters below ground. She grew up very self sufficient, kind, loving, and a little temperamental. Intelligent with her survival skills and friendly with her ability to make buddies wherever she goes, she adapts well to whatever situations she ends up in.

Makena:

Raised by a nomadic tribe of piglins. Known to be kind, quiet, reliable, gentle and slightly stern when she needs to be, she is loved by all who meet her. She has a special fondness for striders, given they were her tribe's mount of choice. She also loves traveling and seeing what all the dimensions have to offer.

Kai:

Stern and slightly grumpy since the day they spawned, they were a rare case of a builder appearing in the End, which they were found and raised by endermen. Kai's serious demeanor stuck with them as they grew up, but they also seemed quite frustrated and agitated sometimes given they didn't have the same capabilities as their enderman family members.

Zuri:

A funny, carefree and curious guy raised by a caravan of wandering traders. Zuri is truly the comic relief of the group, he doesn't have as good of survival skills or niche knowledge like the others do, but he sure is good at walking and he knows a wide array of items and their usage. He's also very good at haggling.

[yourcarnevoreuspal]

I decided to put all the parts of the Farmer pred story together so it's easier to read. Enjoy~

Hm, something odd about that farmer boy who just moved to town. I swear it seems like his appearance changes sometimes. Like he's bigger, sharper, he's always... off.

I happened to see him from my window - certainly not spying or anything - he was fishing, and he'd just caught one of some kind, not something I would be able to identify. It was one of those times where he looked different, I can never place what it is exactly. With his other catches, he dropped them into a cooler, but this one he hesitated, eyeing his surroundings. I don't know what he was looking for, but no one else was outside - only I would witness what he did next.

With an urgent swiftness, he had that fish halfway past his lips, and mind you, this was no mere mackerel, but some other large aquatic inhabitant. I could only stare in shock, with some other unknowable emotions brewing in my chest, while I watched that fish disappear into the farmer.

Since then, I can't help but notice his odd glances towards my fellow villagers. He doesn't know I saw him that day, but I'm not sure there's reason to fear if he did. The farmer is strange but kind - I have hope that he won't harm anyone despite his growing agitation. His efforts in the town speak not of a monster.

Right?

Growing closer to the farmer wouldn't cloud my judgment - surely I began this friendship in order to investigate his oddness, but he reciprocated in turn. There's no harm in befriending this creature that the farmer is, often I find myself drinking into the night with him as company, surely there is nothing to fear from him.

________

Drunkenly, I push myself up from the bar, stupidly grinning as I watch my friend take his leave. Stumbling to take a look around, I'm surprised to see only one other patron left in the bar, he who's been standing in the corner all night. A tipsy blush paints his face as he looks up to the tender, who informs him it's late. My drunken mind manages to agree with this, and I head out the door into the chilled night.

The cold is sobering, and something in the night brings my instincts to attention. They’re reminding me of my hunger. My attempts to ease my appetite have been thwarted, no tuna nor slime seems to quell that ache anymore. No, it craves something more.

Stepping behind a tree, I watch the dark river pass and listen to the soft trickle of water... Until I hear a gradual sound of shuffling steps come following up the stone path. A sound I've grown familiar with. Peaking around the tree, I see the lone patron from the bar, stumbling towards his home- a sight I see practically every night.

My hunger always brings me here, watching the potential prey who would be oh so easy to snatch. So far, I've been resistant, but I feel it will soon be inevitable. Flexing my claws, my hunger begs me to stalk, to pounce from behind. It's all I can do but to keep myself back, only watching as he slowly disappears up the path.

One of these days, I'm not going to be able to stop myself…

________

Hauling the cooler up over my shoulder, I start a slow jog headed off the beach. It's late, the cold night air telling of autumn. The cooler sloshes with It's contents- today's catch swimming around the meager water within.

Crossing the bridge and rounding the corner, my jog slows to a halt. There he is again, taking his sweet, drunken time with his night walk home. Lowering the cooler from my shoulder, a clawed hand comes to grasp my aching middle. It's been months now since I've had a taste, moving here from the city, that was the main motivator. Less prey to agitate my hunger. It seems I can't hold it off forever, though.

The cooler slips from my hand, falling to the dirt path with a thud. My prey is alerted to the sound, turning to see only the cooler lying in the road. My body moves on its own accord, sick of the hunger plaguing it. Before the cooler had reached the ground, I was slinking behind the bushes, hidden in their shadows. My prey, too drunk to realize the danger of his situation, continues towards his home while I stalk him from the brush.

The front door opens, light washing the landscape in its pale yellowness. At the first click of the door, I had already slunk back into the shadows, watching as my prey's relative scolds him for being so late. With the scene unfolding in front of me, my sense gradually return, and I sink back into the shadows to retrieve my forgotten cooler…

It isn't until reaching the edge of his land that I make my move. Sneaking from the shadows, my visage now that of a monster's, I crawl towards him, closing the gap between us until…

________

I've been finding myself here, nearly every night since I followed him. Staring into the dark room, so close to the glass, I can feel it's chill. He's clueless, the drunk, sleeping away in his messy bed. I doubt he'd notice my shadow darkening the moonlight if I were to stand, and if I were to open his window, would he notice the wind flying into his room?

My cravings have only gotten worse, yet I've managed to keep myself contained thus far. I don't know how much longer I can hold out. Desperately, I've been trying to come up with an alternative- slime nor fish have helped, so I thought to try my hand at hunting a larger animal, but unfortunately my instincts are less interested in helping me catch such prey. No, they only hunger for that which lies sleeping inside the room, the creature I can't tear my eyes from: a human.

The only option I've turned up is to simply eat. But I dare not bring harm to anyone in my new home; not only would such a disappearance be devastatingly obvious, I care for my fellows who live here. I don't know if it's the hunger plaguing my mind, but the idea that I can 'just have a taste' and not actually hurt him seems to have wormed into my skull. Even if I eat him, then release him later, would that do anything to ease my cravings?

Unsure if I'm in control anymore, my claws reach towards the window…

______

With ease, the latch lifts, and the breeze blows open the window, sending the autumnal air into the room. Testing my earlier questions, I stand to full height, my deformed shadow darkening the room like a storm. No change comes from the room's owner, his snores still quiet and steady. Squeezing in through the opening isn't easy, I doubt it would be simple even if I weren't in this monstrous form. Despite my desperate struggles to enter the room, my movements are near silent, hardly a disturbance as I pull myself from the narrow opening.

Staring down at the sleeping drunkard, looming over his bed, my hunger draws me nearer with every moment, mouth watering at the promise of flesh. I only stop once I'm hovering just above his face, so close his gentle breaths cause sway to my bangs. The scent of prey surrounds me, drool trails from my lip, and my tongue caresses a fang. My claws demanding action spring onto his shoulders, maw widening over his head as he's jolted from slumber.

He's left with no time to process as I clamp jaws around his neck, his head engulfed by flesh. Delight courses through me, urging me to continue my meal, telling me how foolish I was to think I'd get away with only a taste.

I've clambered onto the bed to sit over my prey, with height advantage I grasp hold of his arms to swallow more of him down, greedily consuming as much as I can at once. Hardly stopping to adjust, I hoist him from his covers, his boozy flavors hazing my mind. Swallowing around his middle, his light, rotund, pudge melting on my tongue, some part of me manages to acknowledge the curious lack of struggle from my prey, yet it is swept away by the need to devour.

Lifting him high as I can, I push more of him into my throat, gulping down his meatier parts and leaving the thinner part of his legs still outside. By now, he has begun to enter my stomach, simultaneously quelling and fueling my hunger as the weight of being prey-filled grows. The last few swallows are bliss as my mouth clears, prey traveling down my throat to my bulging center.

Left kneeling on the bed, stomach distended and warm, mind fuzzy from fullness, my attention focuses to the orb in my lap. Running a hand over it incites a few small movements from within, yet nothing like the struggles of fear ridden prey I've had before. Something about it greatly disappoints my predatory side. Still, I huff with pleasure, the growing ache that's been in my center for months finally at an end…

[munsonsreputation]

I THINK THERES BEEN A GLITCH

CHAPTER SIX: GLORIOUS HAPPENINGS OF HAPPENSTANCE

↢ chapter five | series masterlist | chapter seven ↣

🎧 soundtrack

steve harrington x fem!baker + artist

word count: [13.2K]

warnings: no use of y/n, cursing, idiots pining, shitty ex being an idiot, talks of anxiety/panic attack, overall fluff

summary: the small town of hawkins finally hosts their first official farmers market, but it certainly wouldn't be a town affair without some drama and saboteurs.

You wanted to soak it all in, let it bathe you in the rays of the sunlight, blanketing you in a warmth that you never wanted to forget. The plush of his lips against yours, chest to chest with your hearts beating in synchrony, hands gripping you closer and closer until—

“Rise and shine, lovebirds!”

You groaned, sinking your face deeper into Steve’s chest, pulling the covers over your head in an attempt to go back to the dream that was ebbing away by the second. Steve raised his head off the pillow, staring at the group of children who crowded the end of his bed with shit-eating grins like they had won the lottery.

“Get the heck out!” Steve hissed sharply, eyes going wide, silently telling them all to leave that instant.

The kids clearly didn’t know anything about personal space. The act of knocking on a door or ringing the doorbell was a foreign concept to them. Matter a fact, it was an accurate depiction of what went down yesterday afternoon. And while Steve never minded the kids and their shenanigans, it was the very first time he genuinely wished they had considered minding their own business for his sake. 

“Please,” were the last words Steve had whispered to you.

The gap was nearly closed, lips inches away and your eyes fluttering shut letting in the daylight that you were both ready to step into, but that all changed at the clamoring of voices in the distance followed by the creak of the rusty garden gates. 

“Holy shit!” They chorused in unison, halting in their tracks seeing you and Steve entangled in each other’s arms in the middle of the pool, closer than you two have ever gotten before.

“Oh, my god!” You shrieked, nearly drifting away from Steve at the shock, trying to keep yourself upright in the deep end. 

He seized you, hugging you to his chest where you simultaneously hid your face with its flushed embarrassment in the crook of his neck.

“What the hell are you guys doing here?” Steve barked, staring at them with those eyes that told them all that they really messed up big time.

“We—Mrs. Byers said she was over and we wanted to stop by to say hello!” Dustin stuttered, pointing at you yet feeling regretful for letting himself and his friends in with the memorized padlock code.

“Why didn’t you try the front door!” Steve continued to argue, still clearly agitated at their ambush, torn between showing them out of this backyard or sticking there with you.

Mike tilted his head, evidently unbothered by the situation of invading Steve’s personal space, because in his eyes, the babysitter never needed personal space to begin with.

“We did, but you guys didn’t answer and Max didn’t have a bobby pin on her to pick the lock.” He replied dryly, going over to the loungers to make himself comfortable like nothing even happened. 

“B-but we can go! We’ll bike back home and tell mom we’ll see you guys tomorrow,” El’s voice piped up, coated with sincere remorse, quickly snatching Mike’s hand to pull him out of the chair.

Sure, the kids totally interrupted what would have been you and Steve’s first kiss, but they didn’t know that. If they were some sort of fortune tellers that would have known, you were sure they wouldn’t have barged in unexpectedly.

You finally pulled yourself away from the hiding spot in Steve’s collar, looking at the kids with the softest eyes, holding your open hand out towards them causing them to stop in their tracks.

“No — you guys don’t have to go!” You started taking a deep breath to tear your eyes away from them to look at Steve, doing your best to communicate in the silence to which he nodded slowly, mouthing ‘sorry’ to you.

He let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes for a moment to settle his annoyance before opening them and jutting his chin towards the back door.

“Don’t touch anything in the kitchen. That’s all for the bake sale tomorrow. Raid the pantry for all I care, but I’m not cleaning up after you guys!” He shouted and before he could finish the children were racing past the sliding door leaving you both alone only this time graced with their shouts from the inside.

You let out a shaky breath, wincing at how you suddenly became aware of the position you and Steve had been in for quite some time. You met his eyes worriedly, shrinking your shoulders in self consciously.

“I—Did I mess it up?”

His head rocked back and forth without missing a beat, assuring you with a genuine look of sincerity, “Of course not. I meant what I said, you know.”

Steve flashed you a comforting smile, fingers pressing gently into your skin as you relaxed your shoulders.

“We’ll talk about it? Us, I mean… when we’re alone?” He tried hoping you wouldn’t let it end like this.

“Please.” You nodded, running your hands over his shoulder blades, passing each other a hopeful smile for whatever was to come.

Only you and Steve didn’t get any alone time to talk about it.

The teens had spent the afternoon bathing in the sunlight, taking full advantage of Steve’s stocked snack pile and the swimming pool. And by the time you were acting as referee and giggling while they raced across the water, all the initial irritation Steve had felt dissipated — that and the fact that he got to throw Dustin in the water for payback.

But the afternoon had blurred into the night, leaving you and Steve as acting babysitters when they decided they were too tired to bike home and Steve was definitely too tired to drop each of them off. After you all washed yourselves clean of the chlorine and sunscreen, you ordered pizza while Steve set up the new tape in the living room.

It was a rom-com, “Can’t Buy Me Love”, something he thought you both would enjoy with each other, but the kids seemed to like it too — the boys more so tolerating it, preferring to be playing video games in the Wheeler basement, but the girls were thoroughly entertained, you would have been too, if it weren’t for the fatigue dragging your eyelids shut.

You and Steve were practically smushed together on the couch, your legs thrown across his lap and your cheek pressed to his bicep. His hand kneading the skin from your shin to your knee, bringing you closer to sleep despite the loud talking from the kids.

Steve had noticed your quietness, peering down at you and seeing the state you were in — eyes shut as soft snores left your mouth, your hands hugging yourself acting as a blanket.

“Sweetheart,” He tried, wiggling his shoulder a bit to see if you’d wake up, but to no avail you remained glued to his side.

“C’mon,” He carefully positioned one of his arms under your legs while the other cradled your head, “Let’s get you to bed.” He murmured quietly, slowly standing up from the couch with you in his arms.

He turned back, looking at the kids whose attention was on you two now. They weren’t surprised to say the least, considering the position you two were in just a couple of hours ago, but they just wondered what was taking you both so long to finally put a label on it.

“You guys make sure you clean up and turn off the TV when it’s finished. We got an early day tomorrow, alright?”

They nodded, waving and whispering their goodnights as he walked up the stairs and to his bedroom. Using his elbow, he nudged the lights on, padding to his bed and laying you gently on the mattress, before gathering the blankets and pulling them over your shoulders.

You shuffle, instinctively closer to the opposite side of the bed to make space for him as you lifted your arms from beneath the covers, making weak grabby hands at him. He chuckled, taking hold of them and winding his fingers between yours that instantly gave him a feeble squeeze.

“I’ll stay okay?” He promised, letting go and tucking your hands back underneath the covers before he went to switch off the lights and take his spot beside you.

And like second nature you settled into his side and he pulled you in a little closer — sleep came easy and he wanted to savor the feeling and bottle it up for those lonely nights he spent tossing and turning he was sure were long gone by now. All there was left was you and him, and he’d be forever grateful to spend every night in his bed with you, even in the aura of his empty house. 

Dustin sauntered over to the windows, seeing as though you and Steve were making no plans to actually get up and get going. He swiped the curtains back, letting in more of the sunlight, smiling to himself as you began moving around under the covers and Steve rubbed at his eyes — surely you both were awake now.

“It’s almost 8 and we’re supposed to be at Hawkins Square at 9.” Dustin crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his foot against the floors like some kind of parental figure, if Steve wasn’t so tired, he’d poke a little fun at how he was sorta taking after him. 

But instead he sat up on his elbows, staring at the kid ridiculously, finger pointing towards the door, “Out.”

Max smirked, walking over to her friend and leading him away by tugging on his sleeve and urging the rest of her friends to follow along and leave you two alone.

“Cut him some slack and let him cuddle with his girl for a few more minutes.” She snickered, not missing the sight of Steve’s cheeks flushing. 

Dustin gripped the doorframe, fingers slipping weakly as Max gave him another keen tug, pulling the door handle with her as Dustin shouted out quickly.

“Nance said she’s coming over in fifteen to pick up some stuff, so you better be up!”

The door slammed shut, jolting your half awake self fully up this time. Steve let out a deep breath, falling back against the mattress, apologetically whispering out to you as he closed the space once again.

You twisted in the sheets, throwing one of your arms across his back to tug yourself closer into his chest while the other lifted the blankets off your head from where you were hiding.

Despite the rude awakening, you were sure you could fall right back asleep from the warmth radiating off of Steve alone. He had that effect, the ability to be your personal sanctuary even in the midst of the chaos. While the idea of letting you drift back into dreamland was sweet enough as lying there beside you, he couldn’t possibly let you two run late.

“Cupcake,” He whispered, a warm hand moving down to massage your collarbone gently to spur you awake, “we gotta get up.”

Your fingers threaded into the material of his t-shirt, grabbing him tenderly as a sleepy whine knitted with your mumbling poured out, “Ten more minutes?”

His chest rumbled beneath you with a laugh, “Sorry honey, but we can’t. Nancy is dropping by in a bit to pick up some stuff.”

Taking in a deep breath, you took him in. The smell of his laundry detergent and body wash filling your nostrils. The mix of the two and the knowing that Steve was still there beside you, enough to wake your bones up and want to spend the rest of the day with him and your friends.

“Mmmm,” You pulled away, stretching your arms out, yawning for a few seconds as he watched you, until your eyes opened and met his. 

“Morning.” You greeted with a tired smile, blinking your eyes again trying to rid them of the sleepiness.

“Hey sweet thing,” He scooted back against his headboard, patting his chest, motioning for you to lay your head there because at the very least he could spare just five more minutes savoring the morning with you.

You got comfortable, looking up at him through your lashes, fingers mindlessly tracing fingers over his shirt, just enjoying the sight that seemed to be a special rarity now. Waking up in Steve’s bed was certainly not something you had grown accustomed to, but it was a nice feeling. Knowing that he had fallen asleep beside you, dreamt along with you, and now lay awake with you in his arms – a special kind of intimacy he saved for you. 

“Did I fall asleep?” You didn’t remember coming up to Steve’s bedroom by yourself let alone finishing the movie last night.

He hummed, his fingers a mirror to yours, moving over your shoulders affectionately, “A little less than halfway through the movie, then I carried you up here. The kids crashed in the living room.”

A warm smile spread across your features, always swooned by Steve’s consideration even when at this point you shouldn’t expect anything less of him. Trailing your fingers away from his midsection, you walked them up his collarbones, fingers thumbing the freckles on his chin that you were just admiring yesterday afternoon.

“You’re too sweet to me.” You let your touch stay on him without worry, doing everything besides meeting his eyes, too enamored by the beauty marks you had come to adore.

“I always will be,” His eyes glazed over with affection that not even words could describe.

Yet if there was the time, he would try to do it, to tell you how much he adored you and finally muster up the strength to let all his feelings loose. But despite how tempting that idea was, he knew it wasn’t the right time for it.

The kids would probably burst in at any given moment to get you both up again or worse, Nancy would already be downstairs shouting at the poor use of time given the special day.

“Do you wanna get dibs on the bathroom first?” Steve suggested, hoping it didn’t seem like he was purposefully steering the conversation elsewhere. 

You nodded, sitting up to stretch your arms wide with another yawn. “Just to brush my teeth, then you can get ready first. I’ll get the kids fed and the stuff ready for Nance.” You threw the covers off and let your feet hit the wooden floorboards.

He watched you gather your things while he began making his bed, pulling the sheets up and straightening it out.

“You sure? Usually they’re a lot in the morning.” 

“Take a break for once, yeah?” You reminded him with a tsk, “Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me?” 

He mocked out a laugh, shooing you out the room as you giggled and shut the door behind you. 

You took the bathroom first, brushing your teeth and combing your fingers through your hair just to get it to look somewhat put together before you actually had the chance to get ready for the day. As you exited the bathroom, you knocked on his door, signaling his turn before you jogged down the stairs, pleasantly surprised to see it so tidy without any reminder.

The blankets were folded and stacked on one end of the couch, as the other had a pile of pillows. The candy wrappers that littered the coffee table were no longer there and the tape that Steve picked was already back in its case ready to be returned.

You could hear their voices coming from the kitchen, groans and complaints echoing through the house as you rounded the doorway, quietly watching the scene before you with a self-indulgent smile.

Domestic chaos, as each of them called out different pantry items hoping everyone had an idea of what to make — just tired, hungry teenagers craving a proper meal to get them through the day.

“Good morning squirrels,” you chirped, finally making your presence known as you crossed the boundary into the kitchen.

“Morning,” they chorused, relieved looks washing over their faces knowing you’d be there to save their Saturday morning.

“Hungry?” You lovingly ruffled their heads as they made way for you to get into the fridge.

“We’re starving! But Steve said we aren’t allowed to eat any of the stuff for the bake sale, and Dustin and Mike ate all the pizza while we were sleeping.” Lucas shot the pair a glare. 

“We did ask you if you wanted a slice.” Mike defended, nudging the curly-headed boy who agreed.

“It was one in the morning, Michael.”

You shook your head, amused at their silly banter that continued while you opened the fridge, scoping out what you could whip up in a limited amount of time but still give them enough energy throughout the busy day. 

There were a few eggs left in the carton and more than enough tangerines to go around, plus a half bag of white bread that was going to go stale in a few days. You took the ingredients out, laying them on the counters as you turned to the kids and rubbed your hands together.

“Why don’t I whip something up, huh? You guys can go watch TV in the living room while you wait or you guys can stay and help if you’d like.”

You waited less than a second, fully prepared to see them rush the television, but instead they stood in their places, nodding and waiting for you to give them instructions on what to do. Surely enough, the kids didn’t like the idea of knocking on doors or ringing doorbells, but they did know how to lend a helping hand, making up for it all.

Soon the kitchen was filled with their voices, talking up a storm even in the early morning hours as you stood over the stove, trying to recreate Steve’s famous scrambled eggs all while listening to their teenage updates on life.

Will and Max juiced the remaining tangerines, sticky fingers squeezing it until the pulp gave out and the pitcher was filled nearly to the brim.

Lucas was sharing his own recipe, guiding El step by step as put the slices of bread slathered with butter and a good shaking of cinnamon into the toaster oven, making an easy and delicious cinnamon bread concoction.

Dustin and Mike set the table but of course not without a little more bickering, one wanting to use paper plates to reduce the dishes to be washed and the other wanting to use the ceramics because it wasn’t everyday they got to eat a fancy breakfast, even if it was just scrambled eggs and cinnamon toast.

Rest assured, you ironed away Mike’s worries about the dishwashing task, telling him you’d wash and let them air dry while you and Steve were gone. For the past week you’d been doing dishes nonstop and a few more wouldn’t hurt, plus you were starting to feel some muscle grow after all that scrubbing.

The glasses were filled with ice and juice, plates served with a good helping of eggs and one and a half slices of cinnamon bread. They finally took their seats, a little cramped together, but nonetheless they dug in.

“Eat up.” 

You knew that the boys had been close to one another ever since childhood and it wasn’t until middle school that El and Max had entered the picture, but even through all the phases that came with growing up, it warmed your heart to see them still be fully involved with each other’s lives.

El chewed up her food, looked over her shoulder at you before she spoke happily, “The cupcakes look yummy!” she praised, having seen it in the fridge when she chilled the pitcher.

“Steve frosted them! He's a total natural at it if you ask me.” You winked.

The kids looked at you torn between surprise and speculation that he actually did a decent job on them with zero prior experience.

“Well, I bet they taste delicious.” Will said, knowing that there wasn’t anything their babysitter couldn’t do.

“After everything gets set up, I’ll let you guys pick some freebies alright?” You offered, and they all nodded, mumbling out a “thanks,” in advance.

In the meantime, you shuffled around the kitchen, gathering spare brown bags and loading them up with the scones and cookies so Nancy could take them to the event ahead of time. You made sure to jot down the ingredients for each of the goods on index cards just in case any customers were curious or had allergies.

The kids ate with some comfortable chatter while you were busy before Dustin cleared his throat, catching your eyes as you placed the full bags near the doorway.

“So you and Steve, huh?” He smirked, wiggling his brows teasingly while he rested his elbows on the table as if he was getting down to business.

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you brushed past the table and headed for the sink. “I’m so not talking to teenagers about my love life.”

He tsk’ed loudly, “Why not? I give the best advice! When Suzie and I got together, I did all the right things and made her swoon.” He bragged before the red head cut in abruptly.

Max furrowed her brows, turning to him.

“Didn’t she just break up with you because you didn’t call for a week?”

His friends looked at him, eyes being able to see through the facade that Dustin was the most perfect boyfriend out of all of them.

“That doesn’t count! No one would take me to weather top and it’s way too hot to hike up there with everything all by myself.” He argued as everyone else uttered their disagreements and shook their heads.

You snorted, shaking your head at the boy as you dried your hands.

“Well, I’m happy for you and Suz, but I think Steve and I got our thing handled.” You assured him, giving his shoulder a pat.

“Oh, it’s more than handled. We just were waiting for you two to finally make a move on each other.” Mike piped in, chugging the rest of his juice.

Lucas jumped in not long after, huffing dramatically as he spoke, “I mean first the crushing, then the pining, and then the yearning… god you guys took forever!”

El, with her ever so cheery voice, bursted with a wide smile, looking at you kindly. “Well, I’m glad it finally happened. You and Steve are perfect for each other and make an even more perfect couple!”

Perhaps it didn’t hit you until the word fell out of her mouth… couple, and when it did, it hit you like a ton of bricks. The topic alone wasn’t something that you and Steve even got to properly talk about — it was just hanging in the air waiting for you or Steve to snatch and finally discuss.

In the eyes of the teenagers and even the rest of the gang, you and Steve already did the couple-y things. Spending the night at each other’s places, gushing about each other even when the other wasn’t around, shy touches that you suspected no one else could catch, and being around each other every chance you got.

The thoughts alone nearly sucked you in completely, not even aware of how Mike and Dustin argued over the fact that Steve hadn’t even asked you out yet. It was only when the doorbell began ringing through the house that you were suddenly aware of everything.

You shuffled on your feet, choosing to ignore the children and their nonsense as you went to get the door. Swinging it open, you smiled from ear to ear, already engulfing the person on the other side into the biggest hug.

“Nance!”

“Oh, I really needed this!” She exhaled, smiling into your neck where she hugged you just as tight, “Thank you again for helping out.”

“It’s no problem, plus, it wasn’t so much work with Steve helping me. Have you eaten?” You asked, raising your brow.

“No, I’ve been busy around, calling and checking in with the other booths—"

You stopped her, reaching for her wrist.

“How about you come in and get some food before you head off, yeah?”

She smiled thankfully, following your lead as you pulled her inside and closed the door behind her, waiting as she unlaced her shoes and walked with you to the kitchen.

Thankfully, the kids had moved on from their conversation about you and Steve, somehow now talking about the movie they had watched yesterday. You really didn’t want to tell Nancy about it with them all around — eventually you’d tell her, but preferably when they weren’t around to hear all the details.

“Everyone say good morning to Nance! It’s a big day for her and she’s going to do amazing!”

You rubbed her shoulders, kissing her cheek playfully as she laughed and leaned into you.

“C’mon and eat.” Max gestured her over, scooting onto El’s chair as they made more room at the table.

Nance nudged her brother, raising her brow at him. “You didn’t tell me you guys were spending the night here.”

“It wasn’t the plan, but we were too lazy to bike home. I called mom, and she said it was fine.” 

Her eyes darted to yours with a questioning look, “They didn’t give you any trouble, right?”

You shook your head, looking around at all of them who half expected you to bring up the little afternoon incident.

“None at all… just making me feel old.” You joked, watching as they all eased up and laughed.

After a while, the kids had finished their helpings, beginning to stack the plates and cups taking it over to the sink before you assured them they all helped enough and you could handle one more load of dishes before you’d be clocking out for the next week.

Nancy hummed, reaching into her purse and finishing out the keys, tossing it over to Max.

“Why don’t you guys load up the car and while you’re at it, load yourselves up too because I need some extra hands.”

Their groans of protests about wanting to ride with you and Steve to the event were ignored as Nancy shooed them off. You flashed them all an encouraging smile, watching as they picked up the bags you prepped and waved goodbye before they were all out the front door.

When you heard it shut, you immediately darted over to Nancy, taking the empty seat beside her as you screeched as quietly as you could and reached for her hand, grasping it with a tight squeeze.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Her eyes went wide, promptly setting down her fork as she jostled your held hands in the air.

Your eyes were pressed shut, cheeks raised with a smile, “Steve and I… we almost kissed!”

She clasped her free hand over her mouth, squealing behind it.

“Oh, my gosh! Tell me everything!” She spoke, flapping her hands with you as you both began to excitedly slap each other.

“Well, we were in the pool and we just kinda admitted our feelings and,” You paused, looking out the doorway checking to see if Steve was coming down, “I—I was about to kiss him but then the kids kinda barged in.”

“Those little shits,” Nance shook her head knowing they were always up to some kind of trouble.

“But it was fine! Everything was fine between us and nothing felt awkward, you know? I mean we slept in the same bed and woke up next to each other, so I’m sure we’re on the same page.” 

“Wait, you guys haven’t talked about it since then?”

You stared at her blankly, slowly nodding your head as your lip got caught between your teeth, gnawing on the skin nervously.

“We said we would when we got some time alone, but then we got busy with the kids and then I fell asleep before we could talk about it and then when we woke up this morning we really didn’t have enough time.” You blabbered nervously. 

She nodded understandingly – relationship stuff was always tricky especially when it was fresh and you both were figuring it out. The same thing happened with her and Jonathan when they first got together, the anxiousness and worrying about every little thing.

But she knew that you and Steve would figure it out eventually. From the looks of it alone, you both harbored the same feelings even from the very beginning when you thought you’d both just be friends. 

“Don’t get too in your head,” she reassured you simply, prompting you to release the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Trust your feelings and go for it.”

You would have hugged her a little long if it weren’t for the horn sounding off from the driveway. The impatient kids debated on letting Max drive them to Hawkins Square if Nancy didn’t wrap it up and hurry. Waving goodbye and watching the car skirt out of the driveway, you found your way back to the kitchen tidying up as you waited for Steve. 

Resting against the counters, when you picked up on the footsteps jogging down the stairs before he came through the doorway sporting a pair of medium wash jeans and a classic polo — you were sure he had a hundred colorways and still he made all of them look good.

“Where’d they go?” He frowned, peeking past the back sliding doors to see if they were outside causing a ruckus again.

“Nancy recruited their help.” You waved him over to you.

He came swiftly, letting his arms rest on either side of the counter, caging you in close. There was a pleasant domesticity to it, something Steve wished he could feel every day, whether it was on weekends like this or busy mornings where he didn’t care to know better. 

Your eyes moved to the little piece of hair dangling in the middle of his forehead, straying away from the rest. Carefully, you pushed it back, running your finger gently through to make sure it stayed put for the rest of the day.

“That’s better,” you cooed, patting his cheek with a soft tap, feeling his skin rise with laughter. 

“Have you eaten yet?” He suspected, looking over at the table that was severely lacking in food. 

“Without you?” You lifted your brows, before shaking your head, “Of course not.”

Steve chuckled, stepping back while you shuffled away. 

“You made eggs,” He blurted, reaching for the pan that sat on the stove with a few pieces of eggs left.

“They’re not as good as yours.” You complained with a dramatic whine, and Steve grinned, popping a piece of it into his mouth with a hum.

“I’ll have the rest of this and then I’ll make you some, alright?” 

You clapped your hands victoriously, as if scrambled eggs made by Steve Harrington was the best prize of them all.

“You’re the best! Mind if I shower real quick?”

“Yeah, go ahead. I left a clean towel on the rack for you.” 

You raced up the stairs, hurrying because you didn’t want Steve waiting on you but also you knew you had to get to the town square to finish setting up. Your bag sat on his desk chair, and you rummaged through it, pulling out the floral slip you packed and the extra intimates. 

You cranked the water to warm, stepping in and letting the water slide across your body. His products were already akin to your skin, the familiar scent of Steve slipping across the slopes and valleys of your body before you rinsed the suds off.

Getting out of the shower, you quickly patted yourself dry, getting your skin care products on your face before the moisture was lost. You didn’t pay too much attention to your makeup, settling for some concealer to hide a few blemishes and the bags under your eyes. You swept a dusty pink shade over your cheeks and dabbed the excess over your lips for a cohesive look.

You opened the door, letting the fresh air cool your skin, walking across to Steve's room to put everything away and chucking your dirty clothes into the hamper along with his. Checking yourself one more time in the mirror, you pulled your dry hair from the bun, fluffing it at the roots and sleeking them at the ends before you were out and back down the stairs into the kitchen.

A plate of streaming scrambled eggs sat steaming on a fresh plate right beside his. He had already portioned out the remainder of the food for you both, getting rid of the extra dishes that were now cleaned and air drying in the rack.

Steve sensed you, looking over his shoulder as you twiddle your fingers at him from the doorway. He stopped his movements and turned around fully to get a good look at you before stepping forward.

“You look beautiful.” He complimented charmingly, fingers coming down to your shoulder, adjusting the strap of your dress that was slipping.

You looked down at yourself, smoothing out the fabric and then meeting his again.

“So do you… sorry I didn’t say it earlier! I got so caught up.” You laughed faintly, shaking your head.

“Can I be beautiful?” He pondered, head tilting. 

“Like an angel.” You promised, bopping his nose with your finger as he chuckled, grabbing at your wrist and tugging you to the table to sit beside him.

The two of you began digging in, and while most of it was cold by then, neither of you cared too much. Breakfast was slowly becoming both of your favorite meals to share with one another, whether it was from Taylor’s or scraps of leftovers. 

“Are you excited for today?” He broke the comfortable silence, watching you take a bite out of the eggs.

“Very, but I’m just a teeny bit nervous.” You scrunched your nose, fingers pinching just a tad.

“Care to share?” 

“I just hope people like the sweets and I also hope they like the paintings, I mean they’re the ones that never really sold, so I figured I’d give it a shot here and if not they can go to the salvation army—”

“Don’t say that,” Steve interjected with a shake of his head.

“You’re right, maybe I should give them out for free—”

“Not that,” He leaned into you with a grunt, smiling stupidly as he heard you squeal and weakly push against his weight.

“They’re special, each and every single one of them, and if they don’t sell, it’s not your fault. They don’t get how special your art is.” He reasoned, letting up on your shoulder whilst he grabbed ahold of your hand.

Without even thinking, your fingers laced through his, pulses in your fingertips beating off one another while you stared at each other like fools in love. There was that out of the blue kind of fondness again, the one that neither one of you could escape.

“I feel as though you were a poet in your past life.” You ran your thumb against his skin. 

“Really?” He curled his lips up — he’s been called an idiot that could barely hold onto a job that was slinging ice cream, yet there you were making him rethink career paths just so he could tell you everything he loved about you. 

“Everything you say is so sweet and earnest.”

“Earnest?”

“Heartfelt!” you chirped happily, watching the berry pink hue coat his cheeks bashfully.

You didn’t dare look away, and he didn’t plan on hiding his blush, more than comfortably showing you that it was you who got him like this – only you. 

“Always when I’m with you.” He settled softly, bringing your clasped hands to his lips with a chaste kiss.

For a second, it was the closest thing to your heart exploding… then you remembered the almost kiss that was a definite heart stopper. 

It happened once every few lifetimes, this kind of feeling Steve couldn’t shake for you. Years ago, he thought that moment slipped from his grasp, yet maybe all of this time — all those failed feats of searching for his other half was meant to glitch because there you were in front of him and all he ever wanted to look at forevermore was you.

The paths that had been crossed and all the stars that aligned caused a cosmic shift where you both finally intertwined and ended up here. You weren’t just a phantom of his imagination that he thought up and longed for. It was really the person sitting in front of him that was all he ever wished for and he swore that this was that once in every lifetime feeling he wasn’t going to let slip.

His quietness wasn’t anything new, you had gotten used to the pleasant silence that came between you and Steve, but you couldn’t ignore the way his eyes were boring into your skin as you finished up your breakfast while his sat half finished.

You set down your fork, reaching for a napkin to wipe over your mouth.

“You feeling okay?” You mumbled, raising your brow toward him, watching his glazed over features come to.

He blinked wildly, nodding his head with a hum, “Oh, yeah! Sorry, I just—just love having you here.” He confessed sheepishly.

You pursed your lips into a smile you couldn’t control and then you were throwing your head back laughing too enamored by his charm.

“I love that you let me stick around this long.” You caught your breath, shaking your head at him ridiculously.

“Stick around forever.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Steve furrowed his brows, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back in the chair wearing a playful smirk.

“Best one I think I’ve ever thought up.”

Maybe it was that new found confidence or maybe it was you being done acting too impaired by fear that you opened your mouth, and went for what was lingering – the one thing you needed reassurance from. 

“S-should we talk about…yesterday?” You coughed awkwardly, instantly cringing and regretting, letting it fall out of your mouth the way it did.

“Hey, don’t do that,” He reached for your hand, rubbing his palm over the top of yours, “I’ve been wanting to talk about it, but the kids kinda had to ruin the moment and all.”

“I think their timing is just a little off sometimes.” You said trying to give them the benefit of the doubt. 

He laughed shortly, before drawing your body closer to his. Knees knocking and thighs side by side — a skin to skin contact that felt almost reminiscent of yesterday's events, starting back up where you had left off.

“I meant every word I said, you know, about how you could never mess things up between us.” 

Still you worried, biting down on your lip, gnawing restlessly on the skin, “But what if I do, like, accidentally?”

“Accidents happen all the time. You just gotta learn how to work through them and see it through.” He shrugged slightly, keeping his tone gentle. 

“Are you always going to be this encouraging?” You sighed dramatically, halting your assault on your lip trying to lighten the mood.

“If I say yes, will you finally realize that I’m just as scared as you are about messing things up?”

Your eyes went wide, rocking your head side to side, finger poking into his chest.

“You have nothing to worry about! You’re like… so effortless. You make it look so easy and I’m just, I don’t know,” You shrugged reluctantly, “A mess?”

“You don’t think I’m screaming inside, nervous that I’m looking like a complete idiot in front of you?” He retorted, comically gesturing at himself.

“You could never look like an idiot in front of me!” you gasped, slapping his arm lightly, as you were wide eyed giggling.

“See, just like you could never be a mess to me!” He was half laughing and smiling then, motioning between the two of you.

You closed your eyes, sucking in a deep breath because you knew he was right. Nervousness was never one sided even for someone who was as suave as Steve Harrington.

“I meant that, every part of it. You don’t have to worry about making a fool out of yourself in front of me or being afraid you’re gonna mess anything up.” He spoke.

“If anything… we could give it a try? Mess it up together?” He offered with a dimpled smile, bringing his hand to glide across your cheek holding you to him.

“Together?” Your cheek rose against his palm, a smile too genuine to play off as shy watching him nod. 

“Yeah, if you want to take a chance on me,” He murmured, inching his face closer to yours.

“I’d take all of them.” You whispered, your heart pounding as you leaned in.

The moment was too perfect — a cage left undisrupted, the sanctuary it became as it was all you two had ever wanted. Just as your lips were about to touch, of course, the cage was rattled. A loud ring resounding from the living room, causing the both of you to flinch and snap your necks in its direction.

“Goddamnit!” Steve groaned, throwing his head back baffled, as the ringing continued to pitch through the house.

“I think we’re cursed.” You sighed, burying your face behind your hands, shaking your head in between a laugh and a groan.

The wooden chair screeched against the tiles as Steve stood up, running a hand over your shoulder as passed by.

“I told you, we’re not the ones messing it up, it’s everyone else!” He called out.

You couldn’t make out who was on the other side of the phone, but you could hear the faint voice as Steve let out a string of “uh-huh’s,” and “okay’s.” It was a few seconds more of that until Steve said goodbye and placed the phone back on the receiver.

“Who was it?” 

“Robin,” He replied with a huff, “Apparently she needs us there ASAP or else she’s gonna lose her mind because Nance is hounding everyone.”

You nodded, rubbing your hands over your knees, “We should go then.”

You stood up, going to gather the plates in a stack, but the gentle pull on your elbow stopped you and forced you to twist right into Steve’s chest, face-to-face breath fanning against each other until he spoke under his breath.

“I’ve been dying to kiss you for a while now,” He admitted, letting his eyes fall from your orbs to your lips back up to your eyes.

“R-really?” You swallowed, licking over your nearly raw skin, only then noticing his dilated pupils drinking you in.

He nodded, before that charming smile came to play with his hunger, “Yeah, and I’m gonna make sure when I do, we don’t need to rush.”

“I’m counting on you.” 

Steve of course offered to let you drive, dangling his keys from his finger after you both finished loading up the car but you had turned down his offer, claiming it was his turn to take you out on a spin and who was he to deny you that reward after all the hard work you put into it?

His hand lingered on your knee and your fingers ran across his forearm as he drove through town. Music low and windows down, coasting down the roads that you never thought would lead you to him. Before you knew it, Steve had turned into the center of town, grabbing a free parking space right between Eddie's van and Mrs. Byer’s Ford Pinto. The sun was beaming past the windshield, nearly blinding you and Steve as you quickly lowered the visors and began unbuckling.

The two of you had failed to notice the running figure approaching the car until a knock sounded on the hood prompting you and him to see Robin standing there with her hands on her hips waiting around for you both to hurry.

“It’s gonna be a long day,” Steve exhaled with a weak laugh.

“We’ll get through it.” You tapped his thigh and unlocked the door to get the show on the road.

“Finally!” Robin shouted, skipping over to your side. “Nancy is driving all of us crazy!” She wrapped her arms around you in a hug as you did the same, rocking your bodies back and forth.

“She’s just stressed, Ro. This is a huge deal for her and she probably wants it to be perfect.” You attempted to console her, rubbing a comforting hand over the middle of her back.

“Where is she, anyway?” Steve looked around surprisingly not seeing her near the large cluster of tents and people setting up.

Robin waved her hands in the air absentmindedly, opening the backdoors to help you grab the rest of the things from Steve’s car. “She’s somewhere around here bugging someone else, trust me.”

You and Steve shook your heads, retrieving the rest of the bags of treats while Robin waited around carrying the crate of painting before the three of you walked through the parking lot into the grass area where a bunch of tents were being set up. Nancy was able to get a handful of local businesses like Miss. Driscoll’s Flower Shop and Benny’s Burger to participate — even residents who just wanted to pitch in to help and support their town’s brick and mortar.

Robin jutted her chin out towards the group of pavilions smack dab in the middle of the square patch.

“Your booth is over there.”

She led you to the area that Nancy deliberately set aside for you in order to give you ample space where you wouldn’t feel cramped between the others when it got busier in the day.

Fold out tables were placed towards the front and on the sides of the tent. El and Max smoothing out the pale yellow covers over them as Mike tied off the ends that flooded too long on the ground.

“What’s with the ladder?” You squinted, catching sight of Lucas climbing up with a roll of tarp in his hands while Will and Dustin held steps still from the bottom.

“It’s a surprise.” Robin’s voice leaking with glee that she was trying to suppress all the while the boy unraveled the tarp and hooked it over the screws.

“A surprise?” You furrowed your brows at her, bemused.

You expected some explanation, but all she did was giggle to herself, biting down on her lip in an attempt to keep it a secret for just five more seconds until you looked up and saw it for yourself.

“No way!” Steve exclaimed, laughing infectiously, catching your attention.

Your name was written in whimsical cursive letters, decorated with doodles that the children associated with you: sunshine, hearts, bumble bees, sparkles, and everything in between adorably cute.

“You did this?!” you blurted, setting down the bags with a thud while you lifted a hand to block the glare of the sun in order to get another glimpse of the banner.

“We did! We spent all of last week working on it.” Lucas bursted, hopping down from the ladder to get a good look at it himself.

The kids flocked around you, proudly peering up at their creation that they worked tirelessly on, just finishing it the day before, which is why they had crashed Harrington’s place with such excitement — barely keeping it a secret in time for today… thankfully their unmatched timing had their lips sealed for the perfect reparation gift.

“You guys!” You pouted sweetly, holding your arms out to all of them, prompting them to walk into your embrace.

“We wanted to surprise you with it and it was so hard to keep under wraps, but we knew it would be worth it.” Will smiled at you as you ruffled his hair.

“Are you kidding me?! This is the most amazing thing ever. Thank you guys for doing it.” You said again, making sure to place a peck on their temples.

You spun around, eyeing Steve and pointing at him with an accusatory finger. “Did you know about this?”

He rocked back on his heels, neither confirming nor denying, “I did begin to get a little suspicious as to why they were covered in paint for two weekends in a row.”

“I guess their timing isn’t bad after all… they’re just too sweet to me.” You moped towards Steve, puppy-dog eyes staring at him like they could do no wrong as he took your shoulders into his hands.

“And now you’re wrapped around their pinkies again,” he murmured with a chuckle, slinging his arm around your frame and walking you both into the booth. “C’mon let’s go set up before Nance goes crazy on us next.”

He helped organize all the baked goods, making sure to keep anything with frosting away from direct sunlight and instead on the bed of ice that Jonathan had dropped off before scurrying away with a mutter that Nancy needed him somewhere else.

Max and Dustin got the cookies laid out in a presentable manner as El and Lucas gave them pointers from the front view of the booth. You and Mike worked together, laying out the fresh canvases on the opposite side of the booth, and Mike pitched in to hang a few canvases on the posts of the tent for display. 

It all was coming together, and you were in awe looking around at what Nancy was able to put together for her beloved town. For a first time local farmers’ market, it looked as if Hawkins had done this a million times before and you were sure this was just the beginning. You’d be lucky if Nancy asked you to come back and help out again, and even then, there was no chance you would be saying no.

“Can we grab our freebies now?” Dustin tapped your shoulder.

“Pick whatever you guys want! You deserve it for all the help you’ve given, and that cute banner.” You said warmly, smiling as they all went for their pick.

Steve stuck by your side, snickering when the kids struggled to pick what they wanted, as if you wouldn’t let them grab more freebies throughout the day because he knew you most certainly would. In the end, every kid picked something different and shared it with each other so they all got a taste of the delicious creations you had spent days whipping up.

“Hey, you,” Eddie whistled, knocking his fist into the post of the stall to get your attention from where you were folding up all the extra bags that were emptied.

“Eddie! Oh my gosh, I felt like I haven’t seen you in forever.” You walked around the booth, going to greet him with a proper hug.

“That’s because Steve’s been hogging you from all of us.” He teased, giving his friend a wink who rolled his eyes behind you.

“I have not been hogging her,” Steve retorted, resting his hands on his hips, pointing at the outline of the cigarette box in Eddie’s pocket, “It’s not my fault she doesn’t like the smell of smoke.”

You scowled playfully towards Steve, turning your attention back to your friend and rubbing his arm kindly.

“He’s kidding, but you know I’m always concerned about your lungs.” You sulked, cringing at the thought of Eddie getting sick because of those cancer sticks.

“I tried telling him that too, hon, but he’s just as stubborn as his mother.”

An older man rumbled beside him, knocking his shoulders with a punch as Eddie chuckled, and gestured to him. He was as tall as Eddie, sporting a salt and pepper beard — if you squinted hard enough, he had some resemblance to Eddie, except the lack of curly hair.

“That’s my uncle Wayne.” He grinned, waving him over to you.

“Nice to meet you!” You held your arms wide, greeting him with a friendly hug.

“Nice to meet you, honey. My nephew said you got a car that needs to be looked at?” He suspected curiously.

You nodded eagerly, watching as Eddie and Wayne darted their eyes to the parking lot, trying to spot your car through the bustle.

“Well, it’s not here right now. It’s actually back in Roane, but it’s been giving me a little bit of trouble. It’s making some sort of rumbling noise, and I don’t know if it’s the engine or something else.” You said with a slight tilt of your head, hoping you were making sense with your limited knowledge of cars.

“Could be something with the exhaust.” Wayne scratched his head, looking towards his nephew.

Eddie tilted his head, tapping his foot against the grass before there was a snap of his fingers. “Or it might be out of alignment.”

The two men made noises of agreement, still trying to think up what could be wrong despite not having the car there to access for themselves.

Wayne threw his hands down to his sides, looking over at you when he extended a kind offer.

“Why don’t you let us take a look at it? I work part time at the shop and Eddie has a shift there sometime next week. We can work you in then.”

You twiddled your fingers together excitedly. “Oh, that’s perfect. Thank you so much! Here, I’ll give you my number so that you can call me when to come down.”

You motioned for Eddie to follow you into the boot, ripping off a scrap piece of a brown bag and searching for a writing utensil to jot down your number for him. Steve and Wayne had striked up talking, catching up and making jokes about how sorry he was that his tapes were probably way past the return dates because he had no time after working two jobs and barely any sleep to stop by the store.

You scribbled down your phone number, folding it up and watching as Eddie slipped it into his pocket before he took his turn and wrote down the direction of the shop ahead of time.

“You baked all this stuff yourself.” Wayne called out fingers skimming over the packaged cookies and other treats.

Steve stood with a proud smile, nodding his head, “From scratch and all by herself.” Wayne flashing you an impressive nod.

“I really couldn’t have done it without Steve’s help, though.” You nudged him from across the table — Eddie and his uncle not missing the sweetness that lingered through your adoring eyes for Steve.

“Mind if I buy a few things already, or do I gotta wait until this whole thing actually gets started?” Wayne said, already moving to get out his wallet.

You shook your head, hands held out declining the bills he held out to you.

“First dibs on whatever you want, and it’s on me!”

“No, I couldn’t let you give it to me for free.”

“It’s no problem, really. You taking the time to come down here to ask about my car was enough!”

Wayne settled on a baggie of chocolate chip cookies and, after hearing that Steve had frosted the cupcakes, he couldn’t turn down a raspberry hibiscus one. It wasn’t long after his praise that he told you he’d try to stop by to pick up more treats later the day, before he excused himself to go check out the other booths for who needed help to set up.

Everything looked to be coming together — more booths pitching up their tents and getting set up with all their goods and tarps of their own. Coincidentally, Vickie’s lemonade stand was directly across from yours, giving you and Steve a front row view of how giggly she and Robin were as they prepped for opening — you definitely had to catch up with her when you got the chance.

Steve rubbed his hands together, scanning your booth in search of a task to steal from you, but all that was left was to wait until people were allowed in to start shopping. You were straightening out all the treats, doing last-minute touches to make sure everything looked perfect, even creating a small space where the cash would be handled.

Steve lingered beside you, tsking at you being on your feet all day, “Do you need anything? I could get you a chair to sit on. I mean I don’t have one on me right now, but I can find Nancy and ask?”

He peered past the booth, looking around, hoping to spot her or Jonathan running around somewhere.

“I’m okay, Stevie, but thank—”

Eddie clicked his tongue noisily, cutting you off guard, when he sauntered over to his friend with a grin.

“Ah, ever the gentleman you are, but I actually need some help,” He threw his arm over Steve’s shoulders, eliciting a groan, hating how the leather jacket clung to his neck in the heat.

“Nancy put me in charge of helping Miss. Driscoll unload all her flower pots, but I don’t want to do it alone. You know she gets all talkative about her plants, and I need a way out.”

“Why don’t you ask one of the twerps for help?” Steve reasoned toward the kids who looked minutes away from a sugar rush.

“I was thinking of it, but considering she’s been hogging you, I think you owe your friend a hand.” Eddie half joked, glaring at you.

“I have not been hogging him, Eddie!” You gasped, wagging a finger in the air.

“Whatever you say, sugar. Don’t worry, we won’t be long.” Eddie whistled, dragging his friend along with him.

“I’ll be back in a bit!” Steve shouted over his shoulder, heading a few booths down to Miss. Driscoll’s booth. 

By noon, the farmers’ market was swarming with more and more people, hoards of families walking around Hawkins Square and taking the time to enjoy all the booths and each other’s company on a rare occasion that wasn’t an angry town hall meeting.

And, of course, like Steve promised he was back in time to ease your nerves before your booth was enveloped with patrons ready to see what you had to offer. He, of course, didn’t come back empty-handed, presenting you with a succulent from Miss Driscoll’s, claiming you needed a real one to blend in with the fakes on your porch.

Before everyone arrived, he volunteered himself to be in charge of handling all the transactions, thanking his experience at Scoops and Family Video for his brisk change counting and his charming customer service. And as you expected, he was effortless at it.

“The mocha walnut loaf? Oh, that one is going to knock your socks off. But have you seen her paintings too? All her, and you won’t find these anywhere else.”

Steve paired his convictions with a wink, counting up the bills while you bagged the items with an amused smile clinging to your features, cheeks reddening from the compliments that the customers praised you with but more so the ones that Steve kept repeating like a motto. All those nerves faded into nothing when he was by your side, spurring you on.

Besides Max and Will, the other kids came and went, helping the other booths and exploring what was offered. Funnily enough, many of the kids’ parents, whom you hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting yet had stopped by to introduce themselves. Apparently, the kids really did yap about you all the time, so it was only right that they all got to meet who the heck their children were so fond of.

Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair was as sweet as ever, even Erica who according to Lucas was a “pain in the butt little sister,” was incredibly kind, sparking up a conversation about the Cherry Pie that Lucas told her was the best he ever had, and how one day she hoped you would be able to bake another so she could try it herself.

Mrs. Wheeler took the time to leave her book club booth, stopping by yours to introduce herself and gift you with a few books about art and recipe booklets she’d thought you’d like. She reminded you of Nancy in many ways — caring and headstrong just to name a few traits.

Ms. Henderson was a spitting image of Dustin — personality and all. She met you with such joy and excitement, practically buying one of every treat and even picking up a canvas that she claimed was going to hang perfectly above the mantle where all of Dustin’s science awards stood.

To your surprise, even Dorothea stopped by, bragging about how Steve had invited her and she could not deny the invitation to catch up with you for a little and get to explore the town that she hadn’t been to in ages. The kids even got the chance to meet her, cheeks being pinched as if their grandmothers were visiting, while you and Steve stifled your laughter as they all tried to converse shortly with her.

The hours ticked by fast, people coming and going, leaving with a creation of yours while they left you with an ever-growing sense of gratitude. In some weird way, Hawkins felt a little bit like home, surrounded by your friends and new company that you could get used to soon enough. By the time the day slowed down and the temperature cranked up it was midafternoon and you were all left waiting for the last call to pack up and get going.

You tossed your hair over your shoulder, fanning yourself lightly as you eyed the kids who settled themselves on the grassy ground, trying to shade themselves from the unrelenting sun.

“You guys doing good over there?” You giggled, bending down to press the back of your hand over their necks.

Max groaned, wiping the sweat off her forehead for the millionth time.

“How much longer until this is over? I think I’m gonna have a heat stroke soon.” She exasperated dramatically, prompting Lucas to fan her with his flapping hands.

“Soon.” Steve chuckled, drumming his fingers against the table tops, setting his sights across the town square where the crowds began to dwindle little by little.

“I’ll get you all lemonade from Vickie’s booth just before we start packing up.” He added before the kids mumbled out their fatigued “thank you’s.”

You stood up straight, settling next to Steve, leaning against the tables and facing opposite of where the sun was beaming down on the front of your booth. For a while there had been no customers, because you had already sold out of all the baked goods, and there were only a few of you and Will’s art pieces left — you thought that maybe some late straggler would take a pick at them before you left.

You and Steve glanced at each other, smiling faintly until his arm slung over your shoulder, pulling you toward him, closing the space.

“Are you feeling hot too?” He wondered, not minding the stickiness of your skin together when he brushed your hair behind your ear.

You opened your mouth ready to assure him that you were not on the brink of a heat stroke but Mike gagged dramatically, causing you both to close your eyes anticipating what smartass remark that would fall from his lips.

“Dude! Right in front of us?” Mike choked, looking at you both with a look of revulsion, “Take your flirting elsewhere!”

“I swear to god, Wheeler.” Steve spat, shaking his head at the boy before shooting you an apologetic look that was quite common nowadays.

You ignored the boy's middle school behavior.

“I’m okay, not too hot or anything. Just a bit warm.” You assured Steve, stroking his back lightly, thanking him for still being so concerned about you.

“Are the coolers out of water already?” Steve lifted his brow, briefly dropping his arm from your body to head over to the icebox that Hopper had dropped off in the middle of the event, filled with ice cold water bottles and Capri-Suns.

“There should be one left,” one of the kids mumbled.

He stuck his hand into the pleasantly freezing water to retrieve it for you, walking back and already having the cap twisted off, holding it out with a grin.

“Here you go.”

“You’re the best.” You whispered, taking it from him as you tipped the bottle back taking a few sips.

“Wow, I can’t believe you still have this one! I remember you made this when we were dating and I told you then it wasn’t good, and it being here now just comes to show how right I was.”

The foreign voice tumbled into the quietness, the kids perking up their heads and faces covered with confusion, while Steve looked rather shocked, instantly whipping his neck to the person speaking.

You felt frozen in fear, nearly choking on the water as you felt your heart sink into the pit of your stomach and your palms began to sweat. The plastic bottle crinkled when your shaky fingers capped it closed. Unsure, you didn’t know whether to turn around and face him or run away and hide.

“And you’re still baking for fun? Don’t tell me you haven’t found a real job yet.” The voice snickered cruelly, causing you to tighten your jaw, eyes pinching shut.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Steve cut in, trying to understand why some stranger would come up to you and say some horrible things unwarranted, but you didn’t allow the man to give him an answer.

“You need to leave.” You seethed, whipping towards him and snatching the canvas away from his hands with enough power to cause him to lose footing for a second.

His face twisted into something evil, so condescending like he didn’t change at all, “What? Can’t take a little joke?”

“Not from you. Now go.” You replied dryly, planting the canvas back down and pointing him out the other way.

“That isn’t any way to treat a paying customer.” He teased with a pout, reaching back for his wallet, as if you would ever take a penny from him.

“I don’t want your money, so you can leave.” You shook your head with the roll of your eyes.

“Why so cold all of a sudden? I just wanted to pop in and say hello. I couldn’t resist when I saw flyers hanging around when I was visiting. How’s rent? Are you short this month because I can give you a few extra—”

An irked puff of air left your mouth, arms crossing over your chest, “What the fuck do you gain from this? Humiliating me? Getting a kick off seeing me happy without you? What is it, Brad?”

Brad. Now Steve had a name and face to put to your ex — punchable in so many ways. But unbeknownst to you all, El and Will immediately ran off, going to find their dad who was acting somewhere wandering before things could escalate into something bigger that none of them wanted to see.

“Happy?” Brad scoffed, laughing in your face, “You call working a stall in the middle of nowhere a source of happiness? What could have made you happy was getting a real job and moving out to the city to make real money.”

You looked at him disappointingly, eyes glaring with storms in them — the same ones he used to cause.

“You’re so pathetic, coming all the way out here to do this to me. Was six years not enough for you? All that time and you still haven’t had enough of making me feel bad.” You accused sharply.

“It’s called a reality check. Some people find it helpful.”

“Well, I don’t need it. I didn’t need it six years ago. I didn’t need it when we broke up, and I don’t need it now.” You retorted, slamming your hands onto the table, getting face to face with him.

Steve immediately extended his arm between you both, but you hadn’t even internalized his protective gesture, too busy staring the man in front of you down for all those years he stole from you and that moment right then that he tried to claim as his.

In the distance, coming closer there were the two kids, jogging ahead of their father, leading him to the commotion that was starting to attract the eyes of strangers and the other booths that stuck around.

“Is there a problem here?”

Hopper announced his presence, approaching the front of your booth, giving Steve a look of confusion seeing as though you were the unlikely bet to be in this position when his kids alerted him of what was going on.

You didn’t budge, ignoring Hopper and instead, standing your ground the way you were too scared to do before when it was behind the walls of your apartment. He didn’t deserve an ounce of your sympathy, let alone civility for the way he tried to slither his way back into your life.

“All those indiscretions of yours that I used to take in good fun? That’s not me anymore and I’m happy, and I don’t need to prove it to you or anyone else.” You sneered, watching the way he rolled his eyes to cover the bruise you had just given to his ego.

“Keep telling yourself that because the next person who has to endure dating you for as long as I did is going to feel sorry for themself when they realize they wasted their time on a train wreck.”

“Shut your mouth!”

Before you could even process what was happening, Steve wedged himself between you both, grabbing your ex by the collar, nearly dragging him across the tables as he shook him harshly. You gasped, stumbling back only to be caught by the hands of the children, springing quickly into action. The tussle didn’t last long, Hopper immediately jerked the two apart, all while a crowd formed, loud chatter and pointed fingers reveling in the sight that you wished was all a bad dream.

It felt all too real, reliving everything that you once put up with, and the air was beginning to getting thicker, harder to breathe through with everyone gawking. Your eyes darted left and right, Robin sprinting out of her booth to see what was going on, and Nancy on the opposite side dropping her clipboard to run over. But before they could even come close, you did what you knew how to do best — run.

Steve stepped back, muttering out a “sorry” towards Hopper, seeing as though this was the last thing that was supposed to go down today. He ran his hands roughly over his face, catching his breath and attempting to calm the adrenaline rushing through his veins.

“Are you alright?” He spoke gently, turning around expecting to be met with you, but you were already gone.

The kids were shaken up, pointing in the opposite direction where your figure was weaving through booths trying to get away.

“Go,” Two voices said behind them, Nancy and Robin nodding him along, before they worked on getting everybody to clear out and give Hop some space to escort your ex out.

You felt stupid hot tears rolling down your cheeks, angry at yourself for letting his words get to you after all this time apart, and even more sorry that Steve and the innocent kids had to see you get so worked up over a loser like him that wasn’t even deserving of time….yet you were there, visibly upset.

There was a pit in your stomach, the one that came back for the first time in ages, the one that you thought you had repressed so much so that it would never show up again. You thought the day he broke it off was it — the last time you’d ever see him or hear his voice, and for a moment that brought you all the closure you needed, but now it was as if the stitches to that wound were becoming undone once again. 

Then there was that familiar voice coming to you. Not the one that was poisoned with malice, but his that was always a consolation during times of sadness, only this time, your own anxiety wasn’t the cause of your despair, but in fact another soul who dared to hurt you.

“Sweetheart! Wait up, come on honey, just—just slow down for a second.”

Naturally Steve had come after you and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t expect him to do so, but just didn’t know what you were going to say to him when he’d meet you face to face. How he could look at you and see the person he had been spending most of his time with? If that version of you was even a semblance of someone he could actually be with, or maybe the version he just saw seconds ago was the train wreck he was dodging all this time.

“I—I can’t go back there!” You shouted with tears in your eyes.

You turned into the brick alleyway of the radio shack barricading yourself from being embarrassed even more than you already were. Your hands covered your face, sobbing uncontrollably as you paced back and forth until Steve caught up, gently halting your footsteps and pulling you into his frame.

“Hey, c’mon, I’m right here.” He breathed softly, drawing your hands down just so he could see you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes, pinching them shut as you bit down harshly on your lip trying to silence violent whimpers that risked escaping. His heart ached just looking at you, tear-stained cheeks with rivers continuing their paths all while you did everything but look at him — the way he wanted you to, just so you could see that he was right there with you and there wasn’t a chance he’d leave.

“Please, Steve, you have to find a way for me to get outta here. There must be a back road or something, right? Y-you can bring the car around here and take me home.” You reasoned, eyes darting around nervously, attempting to peer past his figure to think up a great escape.

He hushed you quietly, taking your face into his hands, guiding you slowly, “Sweetheart, breathe…” Your tears didn’t stop, but your staggered breathing shallowed into something gentler, “Yeah, just like that, it’s okay.”

His thumbs ran under your eyes, swiping the traces of tears that kept pouring as you tried to keep your breathing at bay. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, alright?” He assured you sincerely, never letting up on the softness.

“I-I’m stupid,” you whispered, letting him hold your face as you hung your head low letting the teardrops splat onto the concrete beneath you.

“No, you aren’t. Don’t say that.” He scolded lightly, shaking his head in disapproval.

“I am,” you whimpered chin quivering, “I caused a scene and everyone is probably talking about it because I had to make myself the center of attention.“

“You’re so wrong.” He spoke in a tone that felt almost upbeat for the situation at hand, that you really had no choice but to stare up at him in disarray.

He looked over shoulder, then straight back at you with a faint smile on his lips.

“Hop is probably threatening him with jail time. The kids most likely heckled the hell out of him. And if I’m not wrong, Nancy and Robin are searching for you, wanting to make sure you’re okay.”

You sniffled, eyes crinkling as the tears fell, not knowing how he could be so optimistic after what had transpired. You were deeply convinced that there was no plausible way he wasn’t concerned with his own choices, settling to be there with you instead of bolting knowing you were a mess he was in for.

Without missing a beat, he continued thumbing away the tears that came, words spilling out of his mouth.

“You don’t get it do you? How much everyone here adores you, and would do anything for you at a moment’s notice?” He kept that wide-eyed look on his face, trying to get you to see yourself in the light that he did.

“You don’t even live in this town, yet you have everyone dying to be around you because you’re so kind and special.”

You croaked out a cry, swallowing back the lump in your throat, while your head rock back and forth in his cradle, unconvinced that’s how anyone saw you. But he hummed surely, picking your head up as he nodded and stared at you with a sentiment of so forthright written across his face.

He stroked your cheeks, getting impossibly closer to you, his chestnut orbs staring into your sodden ones, “I’m a little bias but you wanna know something else?”

You ran your tongue over your lips, shrugging as your sobs slowly died with each second that passed. “W-What?”

“Every time that you’re away, I feel incomplete. Like I’m missing the one thing I can’t have and I can’t take it.” He told you, feeling your jaw quiver beneath his fingertips.

“Steve…” you whispered, closing your eyes only briefly not wanting to take any of it for granted.

When your eyes met his again, his lips moved with another string of words falling from them.

“It’s you that I want. I want you with every fiber of my being.”

“I want you too,” You sniffled, hands wrapping around his wrist, holding you both there, “God…you—you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to tell you and I’m so sorry it had to happen like this but—”

He smiled, shaking his head interjecting, “Are you gonna stop apologizing and let me kiss you? I’ve been dying to, after all.”

You cracked a laugh, eyes crinkling, and the tears stood still. All that was in front of you was all that you wanted to see forevermore.

“Yeah,” you murmured, draping your arms across his neck, “please.”

There was a promise in his eyes, to give you everything you wanted and more, an unspoken vow to always be yours if you were to be his. Those same eyes flickered over your lips, breath hitching in your chest as your lashes fluttered with your lids shutting. Lips closing the distance until everything felt like it was melting away.

Soft and tender, a gentle invitation granting you both to step into the daylight together. Your lips meshing synchronically, his hands sliding to the back of your head, pulling you closer into him, and without thinking your foot kicked up — the outside world becoming nothing when you both had your own oasis to call home.

Every brush and graze etched upon your skin, your lips making their permanent mark on his, and then it was for certain that your lives couldn’t exist without this feeling again.

Breathlessly, you both pulled away foreheads resting against each other as your starry eyes gleamed into his. Silence filled the air, yet you both knew what it meant—everything you both had been anticipating and hoping for since the beginning.

And who were you both to fight it? 

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: i haven't updated this series in forever, but at the same time it feels like i have been working on it since forever (just writer things yenno?) the kiss finally happened!!! i've been dying to write this scene since the beginning of glitch, and im so sorry i had to drag it out six chapters, but all good things come with patience hahaha. thank you all for sticking around this long, and i think i have a few chapters left before i wrap this series up, but glitch will always have a special place in my heart for the sole reason that it came to me naturally and i was able to forge it up for you all, and most importantly you all showed such immense love for it--truly it means the world to me <3 a big thank you to my baby @translatemunson for always being my biggest motivator and bestest proof reader (i love you sm babes!!!) and i love all of you, thank you for sticking around and being the best!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3

[starboundpix]

ii. (love is) a greeting

it turns out the shiny metal scarecrow-esque thing is not a scarecrow and is most definitely offended. he's here to stay, though, so there's plenty of time to make up for that first impression.

daycare attendant x reader ✧ 1.8k words farm au, gender neutral reader, reader is a farmer, reader has a pet dog, hints of dca not being treated well in the past

note: a sun-centric part that has somehow grown into nearly 2k words >u< I promise moon will get his time to shine! (heh)

The crowing of your rooster wakes you up, blinking blearily and squinting at the rays of sunlight streaming through your curtains. You slowly sit up, shoulders and arms aching terribly, but you must get going with your day. There are always things to do on a farm.

After changing out of your pajamas, you exit your bedroom, only to nearly trip over Pluto. “Hey!” He whines and whimpers, circling frantically around your legs, barely giving you any room to move. Your eyebrows furrow and you kneel down, letting him put his paws on your legs as you gently grab his head, looking into his mismatched eyes of hazel and blue. 

“What’s wrong, buddy?” His ears are soft as you stroke his head. Pluto slightly relaxes under your touch, but the little noises he makes do not subside. 

Suddenly, he pulls his head back and takes little shuffling steps toward the stairs, eyes watching you all the while. You have owned your dog for many years now and know that Pluto will not act this way without good reason. Something uncomfortable stirs in your gut, but you follow your dog as he leads the way down the stairs to the back door of your house. Pluto’s whines increase in volume as you wrap your hand around the handle so you pause to stroke his head.

Whatever is out there—whatever is making Pluto so worried—better watch out. You know your dog will protect you with all of his might and you will fight tooth and nail to make sure he is safe.

Taking a deep breath, you push open the door–

–and are greeted with brilliant blue eyes and a giant smiling face of gold and yellow.

“New friend! I am pleased to-”

“Oh what the hell?” The words fly out of your mouth in a shriek and you whirl back inside toward the safety of your home, pulling the door shut behind you. 

Over the blood rushing through your ears as your heart pumps furiously in your chest, you hear muttering through the door. “That was quite rude! I don’t think my greeting warrants a response like that.” A pause. Then, “Perhaps that’s not unexpected for people who live in the middle of nowhere.”

Your mouth falls open in outrage. With this cocktail of shock and anger rushing through your veins, you push open the door again, this time stepping completely through to shut it behind you. “I was startled, thank you very much,” you spit out. 

A warm presence presses into your thigh. The reminder of Pluto being by your side is enough to calm your nerves a bit, enough to make you realize that this- this being—a… scarecrow? Your scarecrow!—does have a point. Just the tiniest bit. Taking a deep breath, you shut your eyes and reopen them to look what you once thought was your scarecrow in the eyes.

“Sorry,” you say. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be at my door, least of all the scarecrow I set up in my garden yesterday.”

The not-a-scarecrow raises his hand to his mouth, which turns round in outrage. “A scarecrow? Scarecrow? I will have you know that we- I am a top of the line farm helper animatronic!”

You blink up at him. “So, um.” You were not prepared for anything like this at all. “So you’re a, uh, robot?”

“A robot?” he screeches, making you wince. The rays around his head shift in agitation. “I am an animatronic. A farm helper animatronic, unit ID 1987!” His teeth show in a smile, though you feel that he is anything but happy.

Hearing those words, you think of the booklet that arrived with his crate. Your aunt must have chosen the sun themed animatronic for you, and he certainly is no mere scarecrow. He’s sentient. He has a personality. A very unique one, at that. He seems a little prickly, although to be fair, you did sort of insult him multiple times in the span of five minutes. Not your best first impression. 

The thought of this animatronic being a new companion around the farm makes you a little excited. It has been a while since someone who could actually communicate with words—not with barks or clucks or bleats—has been on your farm for more than a few hours. Not to mention, this is the first time you’ve encountered such an advanced animatronic.

Slowly, your lips curl up in a smile, a warmth rising to your face the first time since you’ve exited your home. “Got it! Hey, I’m truly sorry about my initial reaction. I mentioned to my aunt in passing that I really needed a scarecrow for my garden, so when I got a package from her, that’s what I thought you were.” Wringing your hands together, your expression turns sheepish. “I probably should’ve read the manual from front to back. I definitely wasn’t expecting someone uh, y’know, alive and at my door today. Your presence was a surprise, but it’ll be nice to have some help around the farm. So anyway,” You share your name, holding your hand out for him to shake. “I’m the owner here. Welcome to Monarch Skies Farm.”

The animatronic’s sky blue eyes break contact with yours and he looks down at your outstretched hand. There was a stiff smile plastered on his face the entire time you were talking, but now his faceplates shift so minutely that you barely catch the slight widening of his eyes. After a long pause, he stretches out a yellow and vine-etched arm, long fingers sliding against your palm. You don’t expect them to be this warm. It takes another moment before those fingers tighten around yours, and suddenly your arm is being pumped up and down with enough force to shake your entire body. Pluto starts barking in protest.

“Lovely to meet you, it’s great to meet you! I’ve never met someone quite like you before. Monarch Skies Farm is a beautiful name and there must be lots to do, oh yes. What should be done first today?” He finally lets go of your hand and pulls back a bit, much to your relief; although his hand was warm and comfortable, he’s still pretty much a stranger to you, and all that metal leaning into your personal space is not the best feeling. It feels like he isn't as peeved as he was before, but the hint of snark in his comments shows that he hasn't forgotten your reaction to him. Holding his hands behind his back, he rocks from heel to toe as he awaits your answer, head tilted to the right.

You settle your hand on Pluto’s head to calm him down. “There’s a lot to do today. But first, do you- uh, do you want me to call you by your ID? It was 1987, right? Or is there another name you go by?”

The animatronic stops moving completely. You blink up at him, watching as he seems to stare beyond you while he thinks, motionless. A long moment later, his faceplate rotates upright so he’s looking directly at you. “Oh, no, not the dreadful ID. It lacks a bit of everything, don’t you think? The little ones called me Sun, and that’s a much brighter name!” He winks at you, one bright blue eye vanishing under a golden eyelid.

Your eyes widen. “You really go by Sun? That’s what I named you when I- well, when I thought you were a scarecrow. All the bright gold and yellow and the rays around your face,”—you gesture at him—“made me think of the sun.” Curious, and also a little desperate to move on to avoid his piercing and unreadable gaze, you ask, “Were the children who called you that from your previous farm? What was the farm like?”

Sun takes a moment to respond. There is a strange tone to his voice when he says, “Yes, the little ones from my previous farm gave me this name. They are such wonderful children!”

“O-okay.” He obviously avoids answering your question about his old farm, but you don’t want to press too hard, especially when you’re just getting to know him. Clapping your hands together, you move on. “I’m not sure how the previous farms you were at did things, but I think I should first show you your room. After that, I can give you a tour of the farm. How does that sound?”

You can’t quite determine what he is thinking from the expression on his face, but Sun gives you a shallow nod so you open the door to your home. “Come on in!” Turning away from him, you enter your home with Pluto walking beside you.

You miss the sight of Sun’s fingers twitching, a stiff smile on his face with blue unblinking eyes, his faceplate rotating a few degrees. He hesitates before finally following your retreating figure into your house.

Sun runs a finger along the top of the dresser in the guest bedroom, revealing a streak of dark brown wood under the layer of dust that had gathered on the surface over time. You were telling the truth; this guest bedroom really has not been used in a while. 

Now this bedroom is his. His!

“This place could use a good cleaning,” he says to himself, rubbing his fingers together so the dust they had picked up floats back onto the dresser. His hands rest on his hips as he turns in a slow circle, taking in the room.

It’s a decent size for a regular human, he thinks. Cozy, with warm earthy colors and extra cushions on the armchair and bed. Small trinkets decorate the dresser and bedside desk in a way that personalizes the space yet is not too cluttered.

Useless. Moon pushes the thought to Sun.

 “W-well,” Sun says, “we may not sleep like a regular human but it can be nice to lay down while charging! At any rate, this is much better than the horse stall.”

Still dirty.

Sun can’t really dispute Moon on that. The urge to find some cleaning supplies and wipe down every surface in this- their room is strong, but Sun remembers that you are waiting to show him around the farm and get started with your tasks for the day. Perhaps he’ll ask you after finishing the tasks, if it isn’t too much of a bother. You’ve proven yourself to be rather nice despite your initial reaction to him at your back door this morning. But-

Be careful.

“Yes, yes, I know. Can’t trust adult humans too easily; they’re not like the children!” Despite saying this, a small spark of hope travels through Sun’s wires against the disapproval he can feel from Moon. He exits his bedroom with a bounce returning to his step, heading to where you wait for him by the front door. 

Perhaps, as Sun sees more of the farm and gets to know you, he and Moon will grow to like Monarch Skies Farm. He tries to squash the doubt that Moon sends his way.

note: and there we go! we've discovered that sun will now be a resident of the farm! as for moon? he remains to be seen. literally. >.< thank you so so much for reading! i'd love to hear your thoughts c:

series masterlist ✧ part one ✧ part three

[yeehawbvby]

The Winter to his Spring (March x F!Farmer)

Rating: Teen+ 

Summary: March reluctantly (not really) accepts a snack from the farmer. Later that night, he returns the favor by tending to her new wounds (he couldn’t stand to see her hurt). All the while, he does his best to ignore how much she annoys him (he’s smitten, but struggles to admit it even to himself)

Check it out on ao3!

March stared daggers into the back of Mistria’s newest farmer as she talked to his brother, making her typical rounds through the village to gather errands before disappearing to do gods know what in the narrows to fulfill them.

She was quiet. Reserved. Aloof. She seemed like she wouldn’t be as generous as she is. 

Her icy blue eyes could slice diamonds, her lacking expressions were jarring, and her mild rasp gave her soft voice an edge that didn’t match its words. 

Her smile, when it graced her lips, was as bright as the sun reflecting off of snow; and the dimples it formed on her almost-sickly pale skin were footprints, leaving dents in the substance after a heavy flurry. 

She was everything March wasn’t. For starters, her name was December. 

Fucking December… seriously? 

She was the winter to his spring. He ran warm, she ran cold. He was kinda tall, she was kinda short. He was uptight and easily agitated while she was outwardly calm and sometimes a little goofy, even under his blunt scrutiny. 

He was jealous of her innate smithing abilities while she didn’t even enjoy working at the forge all that much; and where March saw competition, she sought comradery. 

All of that bothered him. She knew as much. He made sure everyone knew, their only hint that he’s maybe (definitely) hamming it up being how affectionate he gets towards her during his drunken Friday nights at the inn. It had been nearly a year since she moved in, so there was no fooling anyone anymore… drunken words are sober thoughts, and all that. But that wouldn’t stop him.

As December turned from Olric and made her way towards the redhead, he pretended like he didn’t notice her. Like his heart didn’t feel palpable in his chest, and his palms didn’t feel clammy beneath the leather that protected him from the scorching metal he handled.

She silently watched him for a few moments. He was unsure if she was looking for conversation or simply observing his techniques, but either way, it pissed him off a little. 

“Is it just me,” he led her on, “or are you getting more skilled…” 

His gaze met hers, which swam with something he couldn’t put his finger on. Curiosity? Hopefulness? Why was she so hard to read? 

“…at breathing down my neck while I’m working?” he finished with a glare. 

December’s mouth twitched and her dark grey brows furrowed slightly, but she otherwise didn’t react. As she took a few steps closer, she dug through her backpack, eventually pulling out a bar of chocolate.

She held the snack up between them. March kept his agitated expression plastered on her grasp. He couldn’t help but notice that, despite having delicate fingers and neatly shaped cuticles, her hands looked rough and calloused, with some dirt speckled beneath her nails. 

He had the urge to hold them, massage them until they were less sore, help her groom them so that she would have one less thing to worry about—

Wait. What?

When March didn’t take the bar outright, December explained, “Olric told me once that you have a sweet tooth. So do I,” she shrugged, “so I thought maybe we could share it.”

…Huh.

March ripped his stare from December’s hand and scanned her face, his own warming up when he noticed how intently she was watching him. He chewed the inside of his cheek in an effort to ground himself.

Rather than thanking her — like he knew he should — he ran his mouth. “Are you trying to butter me up with food I like?”

She raised a brow, retracted her arm, and spun on the heel of her boots. “Guess you don’t want this, then.” 

It almost sounded like she was teasing him.

Why did that excite him?

“Wait,” he said, wrapping a hand around the farmer’s wrist. 

She looked at him over her shoulder, and he could’ve sworn there was a mischievous glint in her eye. She was winding him up on purpose. 

“U-um,” he stuttered at the realization, “Fine. I need a break anyway.”

The corner of December’s lips that he could see curled up ever so slightly while she looked at their joined skin, wordless. It took a moment for March to snap out of his trance and let go. 

With the chocolate still in its wrapper, she snapped it in half, tore it open, and took the top piece before handing March the contained rest of it. Then, he watched her as she made her way to the wall nearby. She slid her bag from her shoulders before leaning against the stone, tilting her head to the sky, presumably to watch the clouds rolling overhead. 

“Not even gonna give me the first half?” he complained, joining her.

He didn’t actually care. He didn’t know why he was being combative.

He never really did.

December broke off a square and popped it into her mouth, nudging March with her elbow. “Figured you wouldn’t want your grubby hands touching it.”

He took off his gloves and tossed them aside, then shimmied the treat closer to its foil opening. “Grubby?” 

She nodded. “I know damn well they’re sweaty.”

Feeling a little self conscious, March scanned his free hand while he took a bite directly out of the candy bar with the other. He let the chocolate melt on his tongue, enjoying both that and how the late autumn breeze felt on his skin while he opened and closed his fist.

…She wasn’t wrong. 

“Whatever,” he muttered, wiping his palm on his apron. December breathed a laugh out of her nose. “At least my nails aren’t gross.”

She leaned in to get a better look, as if to confirm if his words were true. When her coconut-scented shampoo wafted to him from her blindingly white hair, he couldn’t deny how his stomach fluttered.

With a small “Hm,” she leaned back against the stone, proceeding to study her own hands before nodding. “I should start wearing gloves while I farm.” 

March’s mouth moved before his brain could stop him. “I might have a spare pair, if you want them.” What? “I-I mean, they might not fit, though.” They definitely wouldn’t. They’d be huge on her. He knew this because she’s literally worn them at the forge. “And they’re thick.” No shit, Sherlock, they have to be.

She politely shook her head, but smiled to herself. As his chest swelled with pride, he realized that he really liked making her smile. 

He didn’t know how to feel about that. He angrily stuffed the last bit of chocolate into his mouth.

“You already gave me a hoe, I don’t want you to supply all of my stuff.”

“You better be putting it to good use.”

“Of course I am,” she scoffed. “It’s nice. It feels weightless.”

“Obviously.” Tilting his chin up and smirking, March bragged, “I’m the greatest blacksmith in Aldaria after all.” He punctuated the claim with a wink.

December looked away, the tips of her ears rosy, if March wasn’t mistaken. Hm. “Bold words.”

“I’ll have you know that I—“

“Yeah, yeah, trophies and medals and et cetera.”

“And what do you have?” he prodded.

“I have my own awards…” she pouted as she slipped the last square of chocolate between her lips. “Just not the same kind.”

“And you never will.”

“Can’t we just get along?” 

“Can’t you stop bugging me every day?”

“Some things are simply unknowable.”

March laughed. December grinned up at him, visibly proud to have gotten a reaction, and the blacksmith quickly turned away, covering his reddening face with his fist. The foil crumpled within it became a stress toy for a beat before he tossed it into the nearby trash bin.

“I have work to do,” he grunted, sliding his gloves back on. “Scram.”

December put on a low and gruff voice in a poor attempt to mimic March’s, “Thank you for the chocolate, December. That was fun, December.”

He stopped himself from laughing this time, but being turned away from her view, he at least let himself smile. “Goodbye.”

“Smell you later.”

“S-smell..?” March whispered to himself. 

He gave his pits a quick sniff. It’s a given that he wouldn’t smell like roses, working such a physical profession, but he had no more of a musk than usual.

“I don’t—“ he started to defend himself. When he turned around, December was already gone. “Damn it.”

__

March was wrapping up for the day as December made her way back down the road. Her hair, which had been down before, was now tied in a high and messy ponytail; her jacket laid securely around her waist, revealing a high-necked, sleeveless, navy blue top; and her arms and cheeks were littered with dirt and cuts that were just begging to get infected.

March sighed. 

He guessed he’d have to do something to help. 

Not like he wanted to, or anything. 

It was for her, not him. 

Not that he cared. 

Whatever. 

“The fuck happened to you?” he prompted when she was within earshot.

She dumped her jacket and noticeably heavier bag near the wall they’d leaned on earlier, trudged up the steps to the forge, and made a beeline for the spare apron and gloves March kept near the furnace. 

She looked exhausted.

“Monsters,” December answered simply, untangling the straps and beginning to lift the apparel over her head. 

No way in hell he was letting her forge now. With all those injuries and the dark circles under her eyes, she would surely just hurt herself even m—

…She would mess something up. 

She would… break something? 

Burn his… apron? 

Something...

Ugh.

March stomped over to the farmer and wrapped his hands around her forearms, pulling them up and towards him before taking back his apron. 

“Nuh-uh.” She stared at him plainly, her hands still frozen mid-air. “You look awful.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, you— not like—“ he stopped himself with a grunt, lest he accidentally admit how pretty she looked despite her disheveled appearance. “Come on.” He took one of December’s hands in his and ushered her into the smithy. 

She went along without question, allowing March to only hope that she was content with this. He sat her down at the stool beside his blueprint-riddled desk; disappeared into another room, reappearing with a first-aid kit; kneeled down in front of her; and got started right away, opting to not explain himself. 

December winced a little at the pain of antiseptic on a gash near her wrist. March told her to hold still. She stuck her tongue out at him, and he wondered what it tasted like, and that thought startled him. He immediately averted his gaze so that he wouldn’t be so tempted to try and find out.

December didn’t say a word while March tended to her wounds, which he was thankful for. She probably already noticed how gently he was treating her. How his everlasting scowl was more so focused than peeved this time. And he knew he’d drive himself mad wondering all the possible ways she could have been perceiving him, so he did his best not to linger on it. 

He settled into a simple rhythm of blotting antiseptic with a cotton ball, applying ointment to the deeper cuts, and bandaging, before scanning for the next area to treat. He didn’t even think twice before standing between December’s legs, cupping her face in his non-dominant hand to care for a wound just above her eyebrow. 

He only noticed how intimate it was when he felt her face burning up beneath his touch. If he hadn’t seen the starstruck look in her usually blank eyes, or the pinkness to her washed-out skin, he would have just assumed she overworked herself into a fever and scolded her accordingly.

March’s eyes widened slightly while his cheeks quickly began to rival his hair. He parted his lips as if to say something, but nothing came out. Seeing December so flustered just flustered him right back… what should he even say at a time like this?

A wave of relief washed over him when she averted her gaze. He took the opportunity to get back to the task at hand — the sooner he could get her the hell out, the sooner he would be able to relish in the feeling of knowing that he didn’t do something stupid that would change the trajectory of their dynamic forever.

At the sound of her voice, though, his hand stilled again. “Um,” December started. There was a pause before she went on, “Thanks for doing this.”

A silent moment lingered between them while March tried to figure out an answer. His gaze rested on her eyelids; whether it was shyness or discomfort keeping her from looking back up at him, he couldn’t say. 

The normal thing to do would be to tell her that it’s no problem at all. That it felt right. That he wanted her to be safe. Whatever pleasantries people would typically say in response to a “thank you.”

Instead, he did what he does best. “Well… just think of this as repayment for the snack.” 

Damn it, March.

In spite of her medic being a dick, December still smiled to herself. March’s heart stuttered at the feeling of her skin dimpling beneath his palm in turn. He’d always kind of wondered what that would feel like…

Without thinking, he let his thumb lazily swipe at it while he patted her cut with the dry side of the cotton; and when she melted into his touch like ores over the hot coals of his furnace, he began to wonder if it was worth it to keep up his charade of distrust and malcontent towards her. 

All he wanted to do was tell her he wanted to do this for her. That he cared about her, that he was tired of pretending for others and himself that he felt any other way. That he wanted to kiss her over and over until she smiled so much that her dimples were permanently carved into her cheeks.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, though, nothing changed.

[sneppu]

Thoughts on the Sneep fandom itself (not Sneep thoughts, but rather thoughts about thoughts about the Sneep thoughts)

ah but the truth is that The snapetwt is offputting to me, its so different from The Sneep environment here on tumblr or on bluesky. I think its because people on there are The Youths™ and they come across as just?? oddly overaggressive about literally everything to me? even if they probably arent at all! but my not-great-at-reading-tone ass sees all the yelling and hyperbole and it flags The Conflict alarm in my brain and im just like... everyone is scary. But to be fair its not unique to The Sneep side of it, it seems true for most of the hp fandom on twt it seems? or maybe just twitter in general (though i dont feel the ff7 fandom was like this??) idk. also I dont like how often I see reposted art and the like; sometimes its credited, but in a way where it doesnt actually help find the artist? like bro, say the site they're on at LEAST. I also highly doubt they've gotten permission to repost to begin with but thats a whole other can of worms But here on tumblr (and also bluesky) everything is calm, for the most part. I feel like a simple farmer, tending to a harvest of Sneeps, whom I've planted for the village, and every once in a while, someone comes by and takes a Sneep. twitter is like a crowded market full of yelling, agitated people, and theres Sneeps, but you are likely to die 5000 times on the way to the Sneep. its what it feels like at least. But an exception is the eastern Sneep fandom, where people are calm and post their Sneeps and muse about silly little Sneep things. somehow, despite the language barrier, I've felt more drawn to interact with the Korean Sneep Fandom than I have with the the general western Sneep fandom.

uhhh basically:

twitter is shitty, I know this

BUT ff7 twitter has been mostly very peaceful for me always

BUT BUT ff7 twitter - at least in the circles im in - has an older fanbase on average

ALSO korean sneep twitter is also very calm and enjoyable

CONCLUSION: its a western youth thing (does check out with other things ive noticed in general)

ALSO CONCLUSION: hp twt specifically, seems more prone to this, a lot of it seems to come from mstans i think?

VERDICT: the environment doesnt really vibe with me at all, and it all seems so exhausting. I'm glad I found my little niche in korean Sneep twt bc my god, I'd be so cooked otherwise.

[verily-veve]

@hprecfest I wanted to do this and made my first rec list :)

1. A favorite fic under 5k: Still Life (Drarry, E, 3k)

No summary given.

2. A comfort fic : Orange Blossoms @danpuff-ao3 (Snarry, T, 4k)

These are foolish times to have hope, and more foolish still to be in love. 

3. A podfic : Deadheading the Odd Dahlia @cailynwrites (Drarry, T, 1.5 hours)

Harry is content to spend his days at Draco’s flower stall at the farmers market, burying his true feelings in artisanal coffee and rose bouquets. When forced to find new lodgings, he accepts Draco’s offer to live in a cottage at Malfoy Manor, and his long-hidden crush blossoms out of control. Turns out, proximity makes the heart grow fonder.

4. A fic with art: The Curse of Anteros @danpuff-ao3 @mrviran (Snarry, E, 53k)

When Harry is cursed, he seeks out Severus Snape. They have a long history behind them, after all, and they've always had so much between them. Who else would he go to?

5. A non-AO3 fic : If You Are Prepared (Snarry, E, 193k)

A task he can't refuse. A boy he doesn't want to refuse.

6. An unreliable narrator fic : Heartbeat by @phantomato (Tomarrymort, Harry/Orion, E, 23k)

Harry, dumped into the past, communes with dangerous men.

7. A canon-compliant fic : Rapture by @mia-ugly (Snarry, E, 48k)

Snape sees the man, for the first time, on his twenty-fifth birthday.

8. A canon-divergence fic : Certain Dark Things by @liladiurne (Snarry, E, 50k)

In which Severus takes a trip to Italy, thinking he'll have a quiet time at the Malfoys' villa, but Harry has other plans.

9. A rare pair fic (less than 2000 fics on AO3) : The Sword of Gryffindor (Sneville, E, 58k)

“Do you feel strong hitting me?” Neville spits out. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this angry before, but there’s something else too. He wants to feel it again, the pain, wants to control it like he did last time. This isn’t like Amycus Carrow driving his wand into his shoulder blades while whispering about his parents, this isn’t sitting scared in a school bench while his sister rants about muggles with a crazy glint in her eye. A choice. He’s in control here, he can take it. “Do it again you fucking coward.”

10. A fest fic : Not All That Glisters by @sweet-s0rr0w (Drarry, E, 110k)

Lonely and frustrated on house arrest, with no prospects for the future, Draco begins brewing Felix Felicis in an attempt to improve his lot. Just in the short term, of course. He isn’t a total idiot. But before long he finds himself with a thriving business, a nice flat, some actual (albeit irritatingly Gryffindor) friends, and a very satisfying sex life. What’s more, no-one is hexing him in the street. And Harry Potter is single, and gorgeous, and giving Draco decidedly interested looks. Stop taking the Felix? You must be joking…

11. A dark fic : Frigid by @mrviran (Harrymort, E, 3k)

In which one of Voldemort's Horcruxes is broken, and needs to be fixed.

12. A WIP you’re following : Pacify by @chickenpets (Snarry, E, ongoing)

Pacify: 1. To allay the anger or agitation of 2. To reduce to a submissive state He would do his duty. He would save Draco, if he could. He would protect the students, if and when the school fell to the Deatheaters. And Potter. As far as he was concerned, Potter could have whatever he wanted, now. What was the point of trying to tell him no if he was going to be sacrificed on the pyre of the greater good? If Potter wanted to learn, Severus would be his teacher. If he wanted a master, then Severus would make him submit. And if he wanted a lover... well. Severus would love him. And that was it. Anything else was a waste of time. And there was so little of that.

13. A fic with over 100k words : Another Mask Behind You (Drarry, E, 116k)

Draco is a high-end prostitute who hides his identity. Harry unknowingly hires him. And then there is porn, questions about identity, domestic bliss, more porn, and truth as seen through a web of lies. (And then more porn. Seriously, if you don’t want sex scene after sex scene you probably shouldn’t read this. And please read the warnings.)

14. A favorite series : Love Your Enemy by @danpuff-ao3 (Snarry, E, 50k)

Love...hate...Harry and Severus definitely hate each other (if only because they love each other so much.)

15. The most recent fic you bookmarked : Everything We Dream Can be Real by @vdoshu (Tomarry, E, 51k)

Harry had a life after Voldemort. He had a family. He had a career. And then one day it was all ripped away when he woke up at Number 4 Privet Drive. Or: Where Harry doesn’t exactly get that chance to do it over again. And things are Not Okay.

16. A fic that made you laughed: Harry Potter and the Problem with Potions (Harry & Snape, T, 184k)

Once upon a time, Harry Potter hid for two hours from Dudley in a chemistry classroom, while a nice graduate student explained about the scientific method and interesting facts about acids. A pebble thrown into the water causes ripples. Contains, in no particular order: magic candymaking, Harry falling in love with a house, evil kitten Draco Malfoy, and Hermione attempting to apply logic to the wizarding world.

17. A fic that made you cry: Epitaphs in Autographs by @vukovich (Drarry, E, 7k)

A series of works surrounding death, imperfect relationships, flawed coping, and humanity.

18. A fairy-tale inspired fic : Two Lockets (Snarry, E, 57k)

Harry, Snape, and the grim old house that keeps its secrets.

19. Fic with the hottest smut: Ruin by @chickenpets (Snarry, E, 12k)

Severus didn’t even want to contemplate how quickly he’d crumbled, or how incredibly satisfying it felt to have Potter immobilized and powerless that way. Because the boy he had under his fist right then was not the same one that had barged into his lab demanding attention and slinging insults. This boy was… different. He was silent, and wide-eyed. Flushed, and panting, and very, very still. It was almost like alchemy. The Golden Brat of Hogwarts - the Chosen One - transformed instantly into this new apparition. He’d gotten what he wanted, Severus supposed. Brutality.

20. A fic rated G: The Son by @perverse-idyll (Regulus, G, 5k)

First there were two sons. Then there was one.

21. A thought-provoking fic : The Things We Need by @kbrick (Drarry, E, 25k)

Three hundred and fifty-three days out of the year, Harry is in a monogamous, fufilling relationship with Draco Malfoy. Then there are the other twelve days.

22. An unfinished fic (hasn’t updated in 10 years or author stated it been abandoned) : The Marriage Stone (Snarry, E, 382k)

To avoid the machinations of the Ministry, Harry must marry a reluctant Severus Snape. But marriage to Snape is only the beginning of Harry's problems. Voldemort has returned, and before too long Harry's marriage may determine the world's fate.

23. A soulmate fic : The Left Words (Harrymort, M, 234k)

Harry has some weird words on his left wrist. That must be one of those strange things that Aunt Petunia hates so much. But it's okay! He likes them. Then, it all turns even weirder. Hogwarts, magic, a Headmaster and a Dark Lord await Harry - he would prefer if they all just left him alone, thank you very much. But when has it ever mattered what Harry wants?

24. A holiday fic: All I Want for Christmas (is for You to Stop Talking) by @femmequixotic and noeon (Drarry, E, 162k)

The Niffler's Garden is the most prestigious wizarding nursery school in England and has been for the last century or more. Harry Potter's boys are both enrolled as pupils at the Garden. When he volunteers to assist with the Yule pageant, he has no idea that he'll be working closely with another parent, Draco Malfoy. Although they haven't seen each other much since their own school days, Harry faults Malfoy for not being a hands-on dad to little Scorpius. Will the intense weeks of preparation fan the fires of enmity or something else entirely?

25. A fic rated T: Altered Course by @crowcrowcrowthing (Tomarry, T, 12k)

Tom Riddle has a problem. He has so many plans, so many things to learn and accomplish during his time at Hogwarts, but one professor—one charming, talented, maddeningly handsome professor—is determined to get in his way. How does Professor Potter seem to anticipate Tom's every move? How does he always manage to stay several steps ahead, knowing secrets about Tom he has no right knowing? It’s simply unacceptable, and Tom needs to do something about it before everything is ruined.

26. A fic with an ending you can’t stop thinking about : Nocturne by @necromanticnoir (Snarry, E, 54k)

A Gothic Snarry version of ‘Beauty and the Beast’, inspired by the dark and sensual tale from the Czech film version, ‘Panna a Netvor’. I follow some of the plot, but then diverge and do my own thing. Got to make it even weirder, right? An eerie, erotic, brooding, bloody, batty, haunting fairytale. ‘Underneath my skin there’s a human. Buried deep within there’s a human. Despite everything, I’m still human.’ - ‘Human’ by Daughter

27. A Muggle-AU fic : with great outbursts and lightnings by @liladiurne (Snarry, E, 148k)

They stand there for a moment, just looking at each other. Harry has developed smoking to an art form that fascinates Severus. Everyone smokes in Paris, but he’s never taken up the habit himself. Watching Harry smoke, however, is strangely erotic. It feels like watching something that ought to be done in private. He wants to say something, anything, but he’s speechless. He’s a bloody poet, and here he is, standing speechless in front of a nineteen-year-old boy. March, 2013. In which Severus is a semi-famous poet with writer's block who moves back to London after the death of his lover and meets Harry, a prodigy struggling with his own demons.

28. An under-rated fic : An Eye for an Eye (Drapery, E, 42k)

Harry owes Draco a Life Debt.

29. A post-canon fic : Soup-pocalypse and the Great Curry Cataclysm (Drarry, E, 104k)

Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

30. A pre-canon fic : He's just a Little Fixer-Upper (Snilch, E, 10k)

After Voldemort's first defeat, Snape's grief and guilt are overwhelming, and he starts thinking about ending it all. But there's someone in the castle who's been watching Snape since he was a child, someone determined to put him back together again.

31. A fav amongst favs: for this I have 1 for my 3 favorite ships :)

Wild (Drarry, E, 92k)

“No,” Harry said, by way of greeting. Malfoy’s blonde head rose slowly, carelessly. “Get out.” “I feel as though we’ve already established this, Potter,” Malfoy responded. “And I feel that what we established was that you telling me to get out of places really doesn’t make me more likely to vacate them.”

When the Rose and the Fire Are One by @perverse-idyll (Snarry, E, 81k)

Harry's haunted by guilt. Snape's warded by roses. Each must free the other in order to free himself.

Either must die at the hand of the other by @metalomagnetic (Harrymort, E, 260k)

Voldemort survives the Battle of Hogwarts because Harry Potter had not been the one to kill him, as the prophecy demands.

[stargazed-bri]

2 Slytherins and their Puff 🐍🦡🐍

yo!

im extremely late to the HL fandom cuz my dumbarse forgot i had an xbox >:')

I imagine them in their 6th year here and after parting over the summer these bois would've missed their Puff so theyd be a lil agitated that her attentions being taken !!!

a lil more info abt my mc if ur interested under the cut!

(I love the way female mc does the hand holding thing when she talks lmao)

I think it's heavily implied Mc is a muggle-born so I put that trait w my mc

Magical abilities started to manifest due to the rising threat of Ranrok and fate was like "Hey yer a witch now lol"

Her father, Jonathan Page, was a muggle farmer from Ireland while her mother was a muggle from East Asia and they met on a farmers market and fell in love and would elope later

A lil trivia abt Mr. Page is that the Page family was a Wizarding family but there was also a muggle branch in the family to which he is part of

that's all i could think of for backstory, theres more but i think it'll be too long to put here :P

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High Junior Year Ep 11

Bad Kids Have a Normal Time in Fallinel Challenge (Impossible)

Welcome back to the longest episode of this season so far–a delight as a fan of this show but an absolute notetaking nightmare as your resident recapper. But a LOT of noteworthy things happened this episode so let’s get going! 

We’ll start off with Riz and Fig tagging along with Sklonda to investigate Loam Farm. Before they head out, Fig (with help from Riz) sends an email to Lola hitting up Ruben about the “podcast” from a burner account. Lola emails Fig back saying he’s booked for the rest of the year, but will have a lot of availability in the new year. 

Once they’re on their way, Riz asks his mom about the Spies Tongue Curse and she doesn’t know anything but points out that maybe it’s actually Spy’s Tongue Curse. Riz shoots Adaine a text so she can investigate. When they arrive, Riz casts Invisibility on Skonda (sensible) and Fig disguises herself as an orangutan (sure) and then they get investigating. Here’s a rundown of what they find:

The backyard of the farm is beautiful and Sklonda says the animals are being sold off since the Loams’ kids aren’t farmers. Fig wonders if this was some kind of gambit so someone could buy the farm for cheap.

With his spy tech, Riz pings powerful infernal presence and magic coming from behind the home. When they check it out they find the back porch demolished in a way that’s similar to the scene at the lake. Sklonda says this is where the bodies were found. 

On a Nat 20 Investigation, Riz sees that there’s this red glass dust crushed into the soil of the crime scene that is identical to the shade of the rage shatter stars. He feels that there’s some connection to some earlier case and maybe a photo he has but he can’t quite make the connection and he feels like if he could investigate the Loams’ bodies, he’ll be able to figure something out. 

Fig prestidigitations a shatter star missing a tiny bit and one of the shards in the ground floats up and connects to her illusion. As her mental state is a bit agitated and confused because of all her self-discovery stuff that she’s going through, the star darts around in a bit of a confused manner before quickly stabbing her. She and Riz wonder if this reaction means the stars are more nuanced than just being about rage. 

Riz asks his mom if there’s a way they can look at the bodies and she goes off to make a phone call. 

Molman texts, apologizes for freaking out, and tells Riz that he tested the soil and it has some weird extraplanar mineral elements. He’s only seen it in one other place in town which is 1223 Ashgrove Blvd–Ragh’s old place that was destroyed during Sophomore Year while they were at Leviathan. 

Sklonda reports what she learned from her cop contacts: The Loams died from force damage, their blood carbonized and turned to red crystal. Riz thinks maybe they just hulked out and burned out–the damage came from within. This is bolstered when Sklonda said they didn’t have any defensive wounds. 

It’s late but Fig and Riz have everyone meet up so they can discuss. Adaine insists they meet at Basrar’s cause she’s working (girl you need better shifts). The detective duo reports everything they learned and Kristen wants to compare her Cass shards to the sample of crushed red dust Fig brought from Loam Farm. As she does this, Adaine casts Identify. Brennan asks what all three girls are feeling. The answers: Post-emotion tired from work (Adaine), Naked Curiosity (Fig), Concern (Kristen). 

A lot of things happen at once. The red dust whips around the Cass shards and glows, making a “concerned ball” looking for some kind of opening to enter. The Identify spell freaks out and says that it’s a lot of power but seems very confused or overwhelmed about what’s happening. When Kristen asks if it’s two power sources or one, the spell waffles on an answer: 2 in 1? 1 in 2?

On a 28 Insight Kristen notes that the red shards acted in an assertive and aggressive way but didn’t attack the Cass shards or anyone else. However, when Adaine casts Identify, they do attack her. Kristen shoots off a Banishment and then hits a Nat 20 Perception, saving Adaine from damage and getting a glimpse at where these red shards are presumably from. 

Kristen sees endless red, thrumming blood and smells rot. She hears screams of horror. It’s the interior of some kind of vast, horrifying body beyond the astral plane. Presumably the dead god. She yells, “Cassandra!” and purple, misty light rushes in to extinguish some of the red, fiery light in the body. There is movement and Kristen hears a gasp before the vision fades. 

They speculate a bit Gorgug wonders if the reaction to the name is the dead god reacting to hearing their wife’s name. They wonder if this dead god went through a similar archfeyification to Cass (which is what happened when Cass became the Nightmare King) and became this scary entity. They then check out Ragh’s house and Riz on a 24 Investigation finds that the destruction, though cleared, is similar to what they saw at Loam farm. Adaine with Arcana sees traces of the shatter star dust in the soil here, just like Molman said. It seems to track with where the impact craters are. 

Kristen picks up some of the infected dust and thinks about things that make her angry (specifically how Buddy talks to her and Bobby Dawn maybe being the new cleric teacher) and on a dirty 20 insight, her Cass shards glow in almost sympathy but the red shards form a glass spear that hover near her eye. She releases the rage, thinking that they’re not worth it and the spear stabs her cheek for 5 points of damage. Gorgug grabs it before it can do any more damage and it turns back to sand. 

It’s late so everyone heads home except for Adaine who scooters over to Aelwyn’s place to pick her brain/check on her. Aelwyn answers, wearing a snuggie, and ushers Adaine in for the classic sister tradition of eating ice cream and watching reality TV together (in this case specifically a cooking show with a Gordon Ramsy-esque host). Aelwyn asks Adaine about her love life (Adaine refuses to elaborate) Adaine asks Aelwyn about her social life (nonexistent). They both get really emotional about Aelwyn adopting 10, old, unloved shelter cats to fill the hole in her heart and Adaine invites Aelwyn to do crimes with her and her crew instead of doing the lone wolf thing. 

With regard to actual business items Aelwyn says that, much like Ruben, KP told her that she's not going to need her until the new year. Adaine offhandedly mentions the Gilear curse and realizes that her sister is an extremely powerful and knowledgeable wizard who spent the last two years enmeshed in evil plots so she probably knows tons about curses and is very eager to help. Obviously she should ask Aelwyn about all their curse stuff! Put a pin in that because, later,  Aelwyn says she’ll handle that once they get to Fallinel. But there are two last bits of business from this conversation. Aelwyn said she got a job offer to work at the Compass Points Library to fill in for Ayda which Adaine heavily approves of. And Aelwyn also haltingly says that Adaine coming to visit her and watching TV was the best part of her day. Awwww!

Fig continues her mental warfare against Ruben that night and enters his dream disguised as KP. She makes the dream look like the crime scene and says that someone has to take the fall and it can’t be her. It has to be him. Adaine throws her a portent to help her get her Persuasion roll to a 23 which results in Adaine appearing in the vision ethereally, full elven oracle. Ruben puts his hands over his mouth and this red, blood looking liquid oozes from between his fingers. Spooky! 

The next morning they have the last day of school before winter break. Kristen wants to check into Ambrosia and Devil’s Nectar. Ambrosia, she remembers her parents talking about as special corn that Helio would grow and food of the gods. Devil’s Nectar she is able to learn more about from Gertie on a campaign stop (who, btw, is fully working for KP now–clearly Fabian needs to be stopped). She says that Devil’s Nectar can be used to make a special red honey (which I’ll just call Devil’s Honey for ease) that allows you to be more persuasive and lie to beings that usually can’t be lied to. However, it has a side effect of making you so persuasive that if you overuse it, you can start to believe your own lies (she doesn’t say how much would be overuse). Kristen asks if she’s made any recently and she said she did for some food trucks (which seems like a wild thing to do just food safety wise but I guess Solace is a wild place). Fig wonders if what she saw dripping from Ruben’s mouth was actually devil’s honey, not blood. Kristen makes out with Gertie who has apparently had a crush on her this whole time. Normal Kristen behavior. 

We tie up some loose ends before we head for Fallinel:

Riz gets a 3 sp stipend from Jace for all the work he’s done with all the clubs. It is apparently one of the few things keeping the school together. Riz is not only the backbone of the Bad Kids, he’s the backbone of the whole damn school. As a result, he is now interim staff. Wild. 

Kristen asks Mazey what she thinks about Bobby Dawn being the new cleric teacher. She’s already acting principal and she wants to vet him with every cleric student before she gives a yes. Kristen doesn’t like the idea but she knows pass/fail will be really bad for her party so she can’t in good conscience say no. She also asks for (and gets) a copy of the bylaws and the previous bylaws when Mazey says they were changed over the summer. Suspicious. 

Adaine is told she’ll have to do a research paper by her professor and she says she might want to do it on hard to break curses. Her teacher, Tiberia Runestaff, says she can get 10 points of extra credit if she does research over the break on harnessing the power of broken curses. (Note: First time this has come up so it feels like a slight mystery nudge from Brennan) To help, she points Adaine in the direction of some relevant books. 

Gorgug is starting to make some breakthroughs on connecting his Barb and Artificer stuff. During a conversation with Henry, he realizes that he has the same last name as Ruben and Henry confirms that Ruben is his nephew. Suspicious, Gorgug does an Insight check and on a 11 just gets nice vibes from Henry. He asks about whether he helped with making Grix and Henry says that he consulted but obviously he didn’t want him to go nuts and try to kill his nephew. Gorgug looks around for anything related to Grix and on a Nat 20 perception sees a glimpse of Grix’s motherboard in Genry’s desk drawer while he’s distracted. Gorgug notes it but doesn’t grab it because he doesn’t think he has the time. 

Finally, Fig has a little chat with Zara and says that she’s better at pledging herself to others than herself so she hasn’t figured out her pact yet. Zara says that will put her a bit behind but is very supportive and gives her a book on pre-Celestial pagan deities on her request. She also mentions that she plans to stay her holidays in the Celestial Heights with her divine patron/paramour. Talk about mixing business and pleasure. Get it girl!

Off to Fallinel! Everyone is coming including Zayne–they brought his gravestone along since he’s tethered to it. Telemaine is bringing his weird energy as usual and Hilariel seems strangely concerned about whether Fabian was throwing parties or not considering she seems OK with it in a wink wink nudge nudge kinda way when she left. Gilear sidebars with Fig because he’s freaked out about his string of good luck. He found a puppy that grants wishes. He used the wishes to stop 3 apocalypses. He keeps getting the key to the city. It’s madness! Fig tries to soothe him by telling him he deserves all of the good luck but it’s not helping. He misses the yogurt on his shirt. 

It happens to be winter in Fallinel which is notable because it’s been summer for the past 1000 years or so–guess the weather matches the unchanging nature of the island’s occupants. Hilariel says that the change of the seasons is Tracker’s doing though she’s not 100% clear on the mechanics. With the mention of Tracker, Riz tries to scan the moon to get the same read as he did when he got the lock on Bakur from Lydia but he’s not getting anything which he figures might be because of range. He says he’ll try again on Tracker or another moon cleric. 

They also ask about Tracker’s new girlfriend, Nara, and a couple of people know her. Telemaine knows of her but gives an answer so long-winded that he entirely loses the plot. Ragh met her when he was evangelizing with Tracker and thinks she’s nice and Aelwyn also knows her. She, being Aelwyn, offers to help deal with her in a way that sounds like killing her is not off the table but they decided that they should proooooobably try just talking first. 

Sandra-Lynn has a little aside with Fig where she pleads with her to take her curse a bit more seriously because it’s majorly stressing her out to see her only daughter in the world suffering under an unknown curse. She also apologizes for how short she was with Fig when her horns first started growing in and is understanding about Fig’s struggles with introspection and navigating such a big shift in identity. She suggests that Fig might want to talk to her friends about how she’s been struggling and get their take on it because she’s found that others are often kinder mirrors than one’s own self image but Fig thinks that nakedly asking such a vulnerable question sounds mortifying. 

Adaine hits up Aelwyn and Zayne (who is, hello, an ex-bad guy and a literal necromancer) about curse stuff and they have some good info!

Aelwyn is very familiar with Spy’s Tongue Curse. It’s a “handshake curse” where two people enter into an agreement (it has to be willing) and once it’s in effect, neither of them can name their co-conspirator (even just writing the name). 

Aelwyn had to modify that spell for Kalina in order to make it work on non-humanoids but she doesn’t know who she used it on. It might have been on herself. This was near the end of Freshman year. It was the vibe of Kalina wanting to work with people who wouldn’t work with her unless they were under the protection of Spy's Tongue. Best Aelwyn knows, it was involved with some of her Hotel Cavelier contacts (Note: This is where the BK’s fought a bunch of demons in SY Ep 3). Kalina was very annoyed about it. 

The last thing that Aelwyn impresses on them is that names are extremely magically powerful and Fallinel is extremely old with great records so, if they’re looking for names, this is a pretty good place. 

Riz is frustrated by the similarities between all these mechanisms to make people not be able to say a name of forget information (Spy’s Tongue, Oblivati Mori, Devil’s Honey) that seem connected but don’t quite line up yet. I am feeling similarly. 

The Bad Kids plus the Reformed Villain Squad head to the Wolfsong HQ and see it’s all the way decked out like (as Kristen gets on a Nat 20 Insight check) Narnia Burning Man. There are all the comfy yurts, high elves serving hot chocolate with flavored marshmallows, and a giant snowball fight. Clearly someone has invested a LOT of money in this. Fig and Fabian right away head to the snowball course but the others meet up with Tracker who’s with Nara. Tracker explains what happened with the snow: some of the trad clerics were saying that all her talk of change was heresy so she performed a miracle and made the seasons change as kind of a checkmate. “If our goddess is so against change then explain this.”

They rapid fire fish for some info–Tracker talks to Galicaea (which I’m gonna shorten to Gal from now on) about once a week, Gal has good relationships with pretty much all non-evil gods and is only isolated insomuch as her followers isolated her, Adaine checks to see if Nara can read/speak the word Kalina and she can. 

Kristen pulls Tracker aside to ask about the clear influx of cash and Tracker says that Nara’s parents are kind of bankrolling the whole operation. Which is kind of wild because they originally send Nara to keep an eye on her. Kristen is deeply suspicious and a bit put off by what seems to her like selling out. When she pushes Tracker on the topic, Tracker gets a little defensive and asks if it would be better if the cocoa had dirt in it or if it was just her in a basement alone with Craig. On a dirty 20 insight, Kristen sees that Tracker was deeply bothered by the line of questioning. Kristen is stinging from the comeback but doesn’t fly off the handle and she ends up having a productive little dialogue about what “success” means in this field which ends with a hug. Adaine clocks that Nara looks a bit hurt by their continued closeness. Riz notices that Nara is texting someone on a crystal (something she must have picked up from Tracker) and wants to check it out if he can because he thinks that even if she’s on the level she might be working with sketch people unknowingly. 

Nearby, the party notices this circle of ancient lichen covered standing stones that are kind of away from the more commercial, rowdy parts of the camp. Fig uses her Divine Sense to ping that it’s radiating some serious diving energy and correctly guesses that it has the effect of the Hallow spell. There’s a lot of Sylvan writing but also proto-Sylvan and it’s dedicated to Galicaea but also other pre-Gal deities (including Giant ones). The sense is that this circle was already here and holy before Gal and co showed up. 

The gang has a secret Sylvan gift exchange (that was organized by Siobhan in the last Adventuring Party)! Here’s what everyone gets:

Adaine gets Fabian a pipe that lets him call rats. 

Fabian gets Adaine an “earworm” which horrifically burrows into her brain but can be used to cast Detect Thoughts and DIssonant Whispers using its charges. 

Fig gets Kristen an “Immovable Pull up Bar” (reskinned Immovable Rod of course). 

Kristen gets Riz Riddler themed Bracers of defense which are of questionable fashion sense but soooo tactical (+2 to AC when not wearing armor). 

RIz gets Gorgug a Potion of Giant Strength in the form of a gnarly energy drink that ups his strength to 25 for an hour. (It is VERY not legal)

Gorgug gets Fig the Mask of Beasts which lets her cast Animal Friendship. It is shaped like an orangutan. 

Fabian summons some rats. Fig makes them sexy. They show hole. Regular Bad Kid antics. In the midst of the chaos, Fabian texts Mazey a selfie of everyone (warning her not to zoom into the rats) and says that he hopes she’s having a good break and maybe they can hang out when he’s back. He then puts his phone in airplane mode as quickly as he can. 

They’re heading to bed but Nara checks on them. Specifically, she wants to talk to Kristen and says she’s happy that she came and she hopes they can be friends. Kristen gets the vibe that she’s here trying to be the bigger person after maybe having some messy thoughts earlier. Not really nefarious but very measured and trying to say the right thing. Nara reveals that she tried to do a revival as well but her follow through wasn’t great and it fell apart. Kristen realizes that Nara is a lot like her except with enough money to have a lot more support. She also mentions that her parents are clerics (which we kinda knew) but they’re more like deacons or office workers than miracle workers like Kristen or Tracker. They weren’t huge fans of Tracker to start with but Nara said they came around and hey, they are funding everything with their deep elven pockets. When Kristen asks about the pre-Gal origins of the standing stones, Nara doesn’t seem to know anything about them and the Bad Kids figure they should stop pushing and check it out themselves. The ex-villain trio set up a perimeter and the Bad Kids check out the stones. 

First some quick theories:

Riz wonders if Nara’s parents (or someone else) is doing all this funding to try and make Tracker’s worthy cause seem less serious. 

Fabian wonders if there is some kind of plot to get this movement all big and then merge something else into it. 

Fig wonders if with all the mind trickery happening, there are maybe gods who think they’re gods but aren’t really. 

Because Fig has determined that this Hallow spell isn’t gonna hurt them as it’s not a wartime Hallow spell (lmao for those of you who know what’s coming next) they feel safe enough to both check out the stones and call over Nara and Tracker for more info. Nara says that this is where Tracker usually communes with Gal and Adaine confirms with Nara that a skilled druid or cleric could use this circle to planeshift. Adaine and Riz roll Arcana and Investigation respectively on the stones and they get an impressive 28 and a nat 20 for a 32! Brennan has to spill everything! 

Riz finds that the stones are very protected. There are all these runes and an old scorch mark. Sunk in the ground, he finds carved a wedding contract–the wedding of Cass and her mystery god partner. (Note: Brennan says that the name written is Cass even though I’d have assumed that the name would be whatever Cass’ name was previously since Cass is a name Kristen gave her but this could just be a continuity blip that we should Time Quangle handwave away. Just wanted to mention it). Riz sees the name of Sol as officiant, Ruvina and Gal as maids of honor, Cass as the bride, and then a name sunk under the earth where the other person getting married would logically be. 

Fig gets the rats who were showing hole earlier to dig deeper into the ground and persuades Tracker and Nara to not freak out (which is maaaaybe a mistake considering what’s about to happen). With all her studying, Adaine is the only one who’s able to properly read the name once the rats dig it up and in her scholarly haze, she just says it without thinking. 

Ankarna. 

A lot of things happen very quickly so we’re going to bullets. Buckle up:

The stone circle glows red. Riz can see through his spy glasses that it's filling with fiendish energy. It feels safe in the circle so everyone jumps inside. 

The BK's phones start blowing up and Ragh runs over to them, on the phone. Adaine urges him along with Aelwyn and Zayn who have shown up to get in the circle. They all try but Zayn, as a ghost, is abjured. 

Ragh is on the phone because something is wrong with the gem in his mom's chest. Adaine is instantly horrified by what she might have done  

The stone circle begins to shake and the moon glows incredibly bright.

Tracker is rightfully freaked but then she and Nara are thrown from the circle and land hard, causing them both to start bleeding profusely. Tracker starts shifting as the moon becomes full. 

Fig makes a Wis save and fails a Con save. The spectral, yellow armor appears around her and the moonlight that falls on them starts trying to rip it off, and not gently. It’s willing to kill her to abjure the curse. She takes 19 points of damage. 

Kristen’s Cass shards start glowing blindingly and Adaine sees that mirrors are appearing to deflect the moonlight and protect Fig. 

Riz gets the sense that multiple Divine Interventions are happening at once and he is first to act. His choice is to try and shove Fig into his briefcase of holding to try and protect her from the moonlight In doing so, he breaks one of the mirrors that was protecting Fig and Brennan gives anyone who wants a chance to Counterspell without the knowledge of why. Adaine, elven oracle and protective friend, takes that offer and, on a NAT 20, counterspells a god, saving Fig’s life and shattering the curse on Fig. That’s GOTTA be worth some extra credit, right? Riz, with the help action from Cass, successfully gets Fig into the briefcase and then dives in after her. Unfortunately, Baron shows up right away because Riz’s life was going just a liiiiitle too well I guess.

Fabian does an Insight check and doesn’t think he’ll be able to get Nara and Tracker back into the (supposedly safe) circle but he feels like maybe they were knocked out for their own protection. He casts Pyrotechnics to produce some smoke to help block the moonlight.

Gorgug jumps into the briefcase and casts Warding Bond on Fig. 

Adaine locks eyes with Aelwyn who says that she’s alright and can teleport them all back to Kei Lumennura easier if they’re all in the briefcase since there’s a carry limit. At that assurance, Adaine and Fabian jump in. 

Kristen looks into the chaos trying to find a trace of Cass but doesn’t find one. She does note that the mirrors which are protecting them are a symbol of Cass but specifically in her Nightmare King form which is troubling. 

Tracker yells for Kristen in concern from outside the circle. Brennan offers Kristen a chance at a free Divine Intervention roll but it fails. Kristen jumps into the briefcase but, as she does, she casts Death Ward on Aelwyn (if she goes down to 0 she’ll actually drop to 1 HP–like half orc Relentless Endurance).

There is a flash of moonlight, darkness, a roar of flame, pained gasping, and then the briefcase finally shuts.

Woof. Huge breath. Because we’re not even done!

The Bad Kids are tumbling through the pocket space of RIz’s briefcase, through photos and case files and random items and Baron is there, taunting Riz: “The Nightmare King, very angry, once more in the arms of his loving partner.” He vanishes and leaves them in their precarious predicament with the knowledge that Cass has been corrupted once more. 

The pieces of armor (Riz specifically notes that there are six) are still targeting Fig so she casts Mislead to create a doppelganger of herself with higher speed that falls faster. The armor is tricked and gloms onto the illusion which morphs into Gilear. Each bit of armor turns into something Gilear-related: a yogurt spoon, a Hawaiin shirt, sandals. Then the Gilear illusion hits the ground and shatters. They're about to hit the ground and shatter as well but then Kristen remembers her gift from Fig! She sets it in the air and, miracle of miracles, manages to make the Dex check! Between her and some fancy sheet whipping from Fabian, they’re able to set down with no damage. Where are they you might ask? Well, it’s a creepy, dilapidated version of Fig’s room in Mordred. And they don’t have time to parse what that means because the pride armor pieces turned Gilear items scatter and Brennan has everyone roll initiative! See you next time!