#i typoed this one lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

therentyoupay · 5 months ago

Note

How would you write Elsa falling first? I absolutely adore your loser Jack pining after put together Elsa, but how would you reverse their roles?

i promise i promise i did not mean to write a one-shot for this. and i SWEAR it is ACTUALLY a one-shot. it is the OLD-SCHOOL definition of a one-shot, because i opened this ask and thought, aw, wouldn't it be cute if i just wrote a little tiny ficlet to illustrate an example of this scenario instead? and then out came 5,297 words. in one sitting. in ONE SHOT.

i would also like the record to show that i LOVED this challenge, i love trying out new scenarios or styles that subvert all the habits i've gotten myself into over the past decade or so!! thank you for this ask!! and, also, let the record show, that even as i wrote a full 5k+ of fic leading up to a "she falls first, he falls harder" scenario, i still couldn't quite hit the mark... in this case, i think it's open to interpretation as to whether she falls first, or they fall at the same time. 🤣 ENJOY. p.s. LOSER JACK?? LMAO WHAT IS THIS

“Watch your head—“

She ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding the churning of what appeared to be a factory conveyor belt gone awry. A tiny creature smaller than even a Norwegian Mountain Troll cried out in dismay as a cascade of nutcrackers fell into a sorting bin meant for what appeared to be that latest handheld gaming device—the Swap, or something.

Elsa grinned at the chaos surrounding her—little elves scolding one another, scurrying about—and wasn’t the slightest bit embarrassed to see the Pooka—Bunnymund—grinning in delight at her delight.

(I told you, his eyes seemed to say, as he gestured for her to continue ahead of him through the vast workshop chamber toward the office tucked away in the back. You wouldn’t regret it, if you came with me.)

Without giving him the satisfaction—yet—Elsa merely took in all the productivity around them, and let her gaze sparkle with the Wonder she knew was in them; dryly, she marveled, “It’s July.”

“Christmas doesn’t take holidays, mate,” Bunny winked. “Especially not here.”

Elsa stuck her courage to the sticking place as they approached the office—the door was slightly ajar. No matter what happens, Elsa inhaled and exhaled; you can always go back to Ahtohallan, to Antarctica.

You don’t have to stay here—with them.

Strengthened by this truth, Elsa squared her shoulders and softened her face into something curious and approachable as Bunny opened the door, not bothering to knock.

“OI.” Bunny stepped through the office, holding the door wide, which allowed Elsa to wait at the threshold—suspended between two worlds, two moments, two paths… perhaps two different lives.

“WHAT—Bunny, how many times I say, KNOCK, this program, it is DELICATE—“

“I got a delivery,” Bunny interrupted, and his whole body flinched at the look she gave him, “Er. I mean. I got someone here who you might wanna meet.”

And if Elsa had known then what she knew now, she would have realized in that moment (when North laid eyes on her that July evening in the middle of his work on the newest rollout of the popular role-playing video game—the Sums, or something) that, truly, the future was always in motion, her path already treaded, and—despite all her beliefs, her past, her heartbroken memories—her heart was already preparing to have two homes.

Elsa had visited plenty of warm—tropical, arid, sweltering—and chaotic, sprawling places in her travels, but none quite compared to the utter bustle of the Workshop.

Over the next three weeks of her stay, Elsa grew accustomed to the factory’s noises, to the bickering between the elves and their strange adoration for her, to the yeti’s curious questions about her years at the south pole. They asked relentless questions about the melting ice caps, the fierce predators, and the tiny human-made stations; she answered them as best she could, having wandered Antarctica for only half a decade before Bunnymund happened to find her at the tip of Cape Adare. When she tried to explain that she was much more familiar with the Arctic, they listened politely, but they were clearly much less interested in land so close to home. They also had the strangest custom of bringing her icicles when they returned from their perimeter patrols; she was growing quite a large collection of them in the guest room in the Main House.

The others—called Guardians, she learned—flitted in and out of this headquarters at seemingly all times of day.

Sandy was shocked and delighted to see her again; they’d run into each other just once during the late 1940s, and only when Elsa was passing through a city—Barcelona, if Memory served—to familiarize herself with the changing of the times as quickly as possible.

Sandy made no delay in giving her a much more insightful tour of the Workshop than North’s exuberant one had been, which had focused rather on not-so-subtle hints at how wonderful a life it was to be a Guardian, and such wonderful news it was to hear that Elsa was intrigued by Bunnymund’s offer to meet them, and so wonderful that Elsa had been spending all these years doing all that she could to explore the wonders of the world.

(North was lovely, and welcoming, and fierce—and so boisterous!

And not subtle at all.)

After a few days of visiting the Workshop, Elsa grew comfortable enough to truly relax as she roamed its halls, visited the various stages of production, and occasionally caught up with Bunny as he flitted in and out of the Shop (“Easter is on Holiday!” he’d said, with another wink). She dined with North and his team of merry workers, often with Bunny, who, she learned, was rather too fond of eggnog, and sometimes with Sandy as well.

After only a few hours into Sandy’s first visit, Elsa allowed herself to laugh with her whole chest at the ridiculous antics, the absurdity of it all, the bickering among Sandy, and North, and Bunny—and allowed herself to be endeared by the clear respect they held for one another, by the lightness in the air, the distinct sensation of family. That night, Elsa didn’t immediately retreat to her room after dinner, as she normally would have.

The Memories were not so painful, here.

And their stories!

They regaled her each night over (and after) dessert—about this horrid creature named Pitch Black, about the Moon, about the Battle of Burgess—they all sounded like fairytales to Elsa, even if she, herself, had practically been living in one for nearly two hundred odd years.

The others told her of two other coalition members who fought beside them—both of whom were exceptionally busy, and who would not be journeying to the North Pole again until it was time to celebrate the Equinox.

Elsa was curious about Toothiana—and anxious, about the Memories she protected—and especially curious about the Guardian named Jack…

Frost.

She did not shy away from asking more about him—Elsa had far too little time to worry about such silly fears like embarrassment; immortality was funny like that—and her curiosity grew with each tale she heard. The Guardians spoke of Jack with a mix of fondness and exasperation—his mischievous nature, his loyalty, how bloody annoying he is, I tell ya, that’s what I say.

Elsa could not help but laugh at Bunny’s pervasive frustration with his teammate; his respect for Jack was clear, even if his patience was not.

Still… she had been wandering the world for over 200 years, and in all that time, she had never encountered any others like her, and certainly not anyone especially like her.

The thought of meeting someone who might understand, who might have powers like hers, stirred something deep within her— something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

She caught Bunny staring at her in the midst of a reverie by the fire during an after-dinner coffee, so she crisply declared, “Don’t say it.”

“What’s that, Ice-pop? Sorry, couldn’t quite hear you over all of that Hope in your heart.”

Bunny, Elsa learned, was used to ducking snowballs.

Later that evening, as she stood by one of the desperately-tall windows in the corridor leading to her guest quarters—watching the snowflakes drift lazily from the sky—Elsa couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to actually meet him.

The thought of Jack—a potential ally? a friend? a teammate?—occupied her mind more and more as the days passed, and with each story the Guardians told, Elsa found herself hoping that this Jack Frost—a teacher? a guide? a confidant?—would be looking forward to meeting her, too.

Sometimes, late at night, she would lie awake and wonder what it would be like to have someone in her life who understood her powers as deeply as she did. She imagined his face, always in motion, always just out of reach, and felt a strange sense of—Hope? Elsa rolled her eyes at the ceiling. Anticipation? Perhaps.

Fear?

In these quiet moments, she found her spirit reaching out, as if she could almost call to him—but of course, he was completely out of reach, never having met her before, and likely, perhaps, not even knowing that she existed until only recently... But her heart would quicken at the idea of meeting this person like her, of seeing his eyes—what color?—filled with the same understanding, the same longing for connection that she felt.

What would he think of her? Would he see the strength she had built over centuries? Or would he only see the loneliness that still clung to her, despite all her efforts to cast it aside?

The questions swirled in her mind, mingling with a strange sense of exhilaration that made her feel both alive and vulnerable.

She could almost hear the laughter they might share, the way their powers could dance together in the air, creating something beautiful, something new.

And in those moments, she couldn’t help but smile, imagining a world where she wasn’t alone, where someone else could stand beside her in the snow, not as an adversary—

But as an equal.

“And did he wield ice magic as a human, as well?” Elsa pressed over after-dinner coffee in the drawing room, leaning forward in her chair near the fireplace. North’s giant hands were absurdly large compared to his delicate teacup. “Before he became a Guardian?”

“As a matter of fact—no. The power came later, AFTER Turning.”

Elsa considered his words carefully. Something about his expression seemed rather cagey; centuries of reading strangers’ faces had only honed her political prowess, which had been born out of survival as much as any sense of duty.

“North, tell me: why do you want me to join the Guardians?”

“I—ah! ELSA—

“Because ya’d be mighty good at it!” Bunny blurted, calling over from his newspaper reading on the other side of the drawing room, to North’s indignant sputtering, “if you wisened up and stopped hiding all Hope and Wonder!” And then, as an afterthought, “And it’ll keep Jack humble, I reckon!”

“ASTER!” North scolded fiercely, but he set the tiniest teacup down with the tiniest clink and placed the saucer on the coffee table with such deliberate care, even in his fit of anger, that Elsa couldn’t hold back a small, genuine smile.

“Dont’cha worry, Ice-Pop,” Bunny told her later, as they stood in the wide, cold corridor leading into the main entry chamber of the Workshop, where Bunny preferred to open his portals. Elsa quirked a brow at him, and he chuckled. “We’re not here to actually convince ya. We just want you to see that there’s another option. This Choice… well. Guardians gotta make it for themselves.”

She still had too many questions. How is it that I had never crossed paths with any of you but Sandy, before?

How is it that I have managed to avoid Pitch for all these years?

Why me? What can I really offer—when you already have someone who can already do what I do?

“You still have time before you have to decide. And you need to meet the rest, anyway. Just think about it, is all,” he said, all his wisdom seeping into the very air around them. He cracked open a portal and, a moment later, he was gone.

“Oh!” said an utterly beautiful creature, her wings fluttering with so much excitement and delight that she was practically vibrating. “You must be Elsa!”

Elsa and Toothiana took to one another with surprising ease; time had steadied Elsa’s heart, had taught her the patience and endurance and the strength of a glacier; time had energized Toothiana, who took charge of the world with her vast army and a wide smile. But it had been so long since Elsa had even felt anything remotely similar to the feel of holding onto her sister—and Toothiana understood, completely.

Toothiana shared stories of her own—a whirlwind of adventures collecting memories and moments, each one a treasure she held dear.

(Toothiana's eyes softened as she took Elsa's hands in her own, her understanding gentle yet firm. "I know what it’s like to carry the weight of Memories, Elsa," Toothiana whispered, her voice a comforting balm. "But here, with us, you don’t have to carry them alone. We’re all in this together, and we’ll help you find your way.”)

And Elsa found herself starting to believe her.

To Believe in them.

When the Guardians gathered around the fire—taking time, they said, to ensure that past mistakes were never repeated, that they carved out time for themselves the way they never used to—the conversation inevitably turned to their adventures, to answering Elsa's questions. Somehow, Jack always seemed to be at the center of their tales.

She was rather alarmed to realize the extent to which she had begun to wait for these moments, eager to hear more about Jack, piecing together an image of him in her mind that was as elusive as snowflakes on the wind. Why on earth does not a single Guardian commission a portrait, for goodness’ sake? But Elsa dared not ask for a Memory; apparently, there were still some things left worth being too embarrassed to ask for, after all.

So she contented herself with the way Sandy would add details to the story that the others had forgotten, conjuring up glowing scenes of Jack’s playful antics in vague, golden sand—flurries of snowflakes, intricate frost patterns on windows, and the gleeful laughter of children echoing through the air.

She would find all their efforts rather suspicious… if they weren’t all being so utterly obvious about their Hopes.

Thus, one evening, as they were all gathered around the fire, Elsa couldn’t help but ask, “How did Jack become a Guardian?”

Bunny’s keen eye sharpened upon her cheek; she withstood the scrutiny, allowing him no further entry to her mind, as he added, “Jack was chosen by the Moon, like the rest of us.”

“But Jack…” Toothiana’s voice was soft and somber and unusually serious; the atmosphere in the room shifted, its axis tilting ever so slightly. “He had a harder time accepting it. At first! That is.”

“Took him a while to figure out, is all,” Bunny held his boomerang up to the light, checking the polish. “He came around, eventually.”

“Why?” Elsa asked, genuinely curious.

Sandy floated closer, his golden sand forming an image of a young boy standing alone in the snow, his face a mixture of confusion and sorrow. The image flickered, and the boy’s expression shifted to one of determination and hope.

“Not easy for Jack, his Turning was,” North said, his voice softening. “Not easy for any of us… But Jack had no Memories of his past, no knowledge why he was Chosen. It wasn’t until centuries after his Turning that he found his center.”

“His center?” Elsa echoed, intrigued.

“FUN!” North boomed, smiling, and sending teacups clattering everywhere. Elsa clutched her saucer with both hands. “But not just ANY fun—bringing joy and wonder to children, making them BELIEVE in magic and in themselves. THAT is Jack’s true power!”

Elsa considered this as Bunny complained about dropping his boomerang polish and spilling it all over the carpet. Toothiana was laughing at him and offering to help in equal turns, as Elsa’s mind turned over the implications of centers—and Jack’s in particular. She had spent so long searching for her own purpose, her own… center? Do I have one? As well? Is that why Bunny had found her, out alone at the edge of the iceberg, at the exact moment when she had let it all go, had accepted that she may never find her purpose, that perhaps she did not have one—was that the moment that they had been waiting for?

And now, here in this team, Elsa might soon meet someone who had also once struggled with the same questions, who had found his answers in the most unexpected ways… It makes me, dare I say it… Wonder...

She glanced at the Guardians, each of them so sure of their place, their role in the world, with all their quirks and their trust and their happiness. They had found their centers, their reasons for being. And Jack—this mysterious figure who was off wreaking havoc in some apparently historic winter season in New England—had somehow found the same. She wanted to know more about this spirit who had lived in solitude for so long, who had found a family among these remarkable beings, and who wielded the same icy power she did, yet in a way so different from her own—or, at least, so they thought. Nobody could quite seem to explain to her the exact mechanics of it all.

The more she heard about him, the more she felt a growing need to meet him. She caught herself imagining what their first meeting might be like—whether he would be as mischievous as they said, or if they would take a liking to one another right away, bonded by their similar powers, their similar stories… Perhaps he might help her make sense of… all this? Maybe there was something in him that could help her understand herself better. Maybe he could be… another friend? An ally. A partner. Elsa did not care about the name; what mattered was only that they could learn from each other.

But still. She could not quite deny that her excitement at the chance of meeting him was, perhaps, a bit more complicated than all that.

“I still don't understand. You already have someone whose powers are like mine,” Elsa pointed out reasonably, just when the others had started to turn the conversation to simpler matters. “How could I possibly contribute?”

Bunny barked with laughter from the other side of the circle, over the recipe book he was now reading, preparing for their grand dinner to celebrate the Autumnal Equinox. Sandy giggled in golden, sparkling shimmers. North’s laughter was as reassuring as it was alarming.

“ELSIE, my dear,” North boomed as he strode closer to the wing-backed chairs that Toothiana and Elsa were hoarding by the fire, just under the wide window of the central tower, which overlooked the northern tundra. “It is not about powers alone! It is CENTERS.”

“And besides!” Bunny called out over his recipe book, adjusting his reading glasses over the bridge of his twitching nose. She could feel his cheekiness from the other side of the room, but Elsa was particularly amused by the way Toothiana’s whole body tensed up in preparation for Bunny’s antics. “You’re the better deal on both fronts, anyway!”

Toothiana scolded him for the next five minutes but hardly put any real fire into it, and North’s voice echoed throughout the study (“Now, now, Bunny—Jack has only been with us for two years now—and he has done SPLENDID job—“), and Sandy had already fallen asleep in his preferred winged-back chair by the fire, lulled into a nap by the comforting sound of his fellow Guardians arguing over something utterly ridiculous.

Late that night, as Toothiana hastily prepared for departure and her return to her endless work, she caught Elsa by surprise.

“We’ll understand if you would rather return,” Toothiana was gracious, so considerate in her efforts to not step on painful Memories, to not push Elsa too hard or too fast, too soon. “We recognize that this choice, this Oath, is not for everyone. But we hope you’ll consider it.”

Elsa nodded, appreciating the understanding in Tooth's eyes, though she couldn’t quite find the words to express it. The kindness and patience offered—by all of them—made her feel both comforted and conflicted; this was a choice she had to make for herself, but knowing she wouldn’t be judged either way brought a small measure of peace.

Toothiana let out a knowing smile that Elsa didn’t quite understand.

Two days before the Autumnal Equinox, the North Pole was strangely quiet; all others were out and about and attending to their centers, preparing their final tasks before they would all meet for the celebration, here in North’s home.

She thus found herself wandering the hallways alone, her footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor, thinking of the word home, and how it had changed for her over the years—first, her kingdom; then, her sister; then, the secrets that lay in the depths of Ahtohallan, and then nowhere at all.

What was home?

She paused in front of a large, intricately carved door she hadn’t noticed before. There was something inviting about it, something that called to her curiosity. Without thinking, she reached out and pushed it open, stepping into a room bathed in a soft, ethereal glow.

The room was a gallery of sorts, filled with shelves upon shelves of intricate snow globes, each one containing a different scene—some of them cheerful, others serene, and a few that looked like they were mid-snowstorm. Elsa moved closer, her breath catching as she realized what she was seeing. Each snow globe was a memory—not one of Toothiana’s collections of course, but rather, a moving picture—a small clip of some film, captured in glass and suspended in time.

She reached out to touch one that was particularly beautiful—a snow globe depicting a small village blanketed in fresh snow, children playing and laughing as they built snowmen and threw snowballs. The scene was so vivid, so real, that she could almost hear their laughter.

“Beautiful, no?” a voice said softly from behind her.

Elsa turned to see North standing in the doorway, a fond smile on his face as he watched her.

“They’re not Memories,” Elsa whispered, more to herself than to him. “They’re… Reminders.”

“Yes. They help with the Wonder, of course.”

Elsa couldn’t move her gaze away from the glass again. “Whose are they?”

North stepped into the room, his presence filling the space with genuine warmth, with joy. “They belong to all of us. The children, the Guardians… and a few others.”

He gestured to a shelf on the far wall, where a single snow globe sat, slightly larger than the others. It depicted a lone figure standing in the middle of a frozen lake, surrounded by a dense forest. Snowflakes danced around him, but there was a sadness to the scene, a loneliness that tugged at Elsa’s heart. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch the glass.

“That one,” North said softly, “also belongs to Jack.”

Elsa’s breath caught. She had heard so much about him, yet she still knew so little. The thought of him, alone in this beautiful but desolate scene, stirred something deep within her.

Are you someone out there who's a little bit like me?

Who knows deep down I'm not where I'm meant to be?

“Yes, he’s been through much,” North continued, his voice gentle, washing over Elsa’s rapidly-blinking thoughts, through the strange swell of sadness that swam through her chest. “But he IS strong, and has found his place among us. Still, there are parts of him that are… sometimes, difficult to reach. Things that… perhaps… someone may help… heal?”

Elsa side-eyed him, beneath her lashes. “You are growing less subtle each day, I fear.”

His boisterous laugh told her he wasn’t deterred in the slightest.

“Elsa, when few more centuries you have, you too shall learn when to drop SUBTLETY. No?”

Haven’t I already? But she humored him with a smile instead.

“Whatever you decide—we will support you, your Majesty.”

Elsa’s smile slipped, without her meaning to. Throat thick, she whispered, “No one has called me by that title for a very long time.”

Her eyes pricked with tears as North stepped closer to her, looking down at her—the way her father used to. The way her father might have, had he lived long enough to see her step into her own power, at last.

“I do not call you Majesty because you were Queen, or Snow Queen; I say because I remind you that what you have, and what you are, at your center, is FULL of that which makes living so majestic. It is my sincere wish that—“ and Elsa inhaled at the strange expression that passed his face, the soft mix of hope and resignation all at once— “You will choose the Oath with your full heart.”

Elsa wanted to thank him, but she didn’t want to lie; before she could settle on the perfect breath of diplomacy, North patted her shoulder in reassurance, and left the gallery, leaving Elsa with all the Reminders that were not hers, but insisted she be strong, anyway.

She gazed into the large snow globe, at the figure standing alone on the frozen lake in the deep forest, and Wondered, truly, for the first time, This was also my past…

Will I also find my future here, too?

The Equinox arrived, at last. Elsa had fashioned herself a dress for the occasion, and the excitement buzzing through the Workshop was palpable—everywhere she turned, there were smiles and knowing glances exchanged between the elves and the yetis, as if they all shared a secret that she was just on the cusp of understanding, but not quite privy to.

Elsa did not startle at Bunny’s sudden entrance behind her, but it was a near thing.

“Stop twitching,” Bunny muttered as he sidled up beside her, at the window, where she was watching the horizon and waiting for the other Guardians to arrive. When she glanced up at him, she found his nose twitching in nervous anticipation. “Don’t overthink it, Ice-pop. Jack’s a handful, but he’s got a good heart.”

“Oh? No further jabs at your friendly foe?”

“Nah,” Bunny grinned. “Today, I’m on my best behavior. Scout’s honor.”

“You mean ‘Toothy’s honor’.”

“Aye, that too.”

She considered pointing out that his nose was equally twitchy, but she let it slide.

Elsa understood.

And that understanding grew as some of the Guardians started to all trickle in at once; Toothiana sent wide glances about and around the room upon her arrival, and later, as she fussed with the elves’ itineraries, kept catching Bunny’s eye when they thought Elsa was not looking; Sandy checked his watch repeatedly after greeting them all with warm, sandy hugs; perhaps he was conscientious of the time… and yet… North’s laughter was too loud to be completely genuine. Elsa was beginning to understand the true purpose of tonight, swiftly and deeply; this night was no mere dinner, and no simple introduction. Tonight was an audition. An interview.

A trial.

At this point, Elsa didn’t even mind the inquisition; she just wanted it to start.

The storm outside had been raging for over an hour, and yet there was still no sign of Jack. The wind howled, whipping snow into frenzied swirls that danced and spun against the windows of North’s Workshop. The Guardians stood by the large bay window, watching the tempest with a mixture of awe and concern. Elsa had seen far fiercer storms before… but seeing this storm here, now…?

Elsa didn’t know what to think.

“Where do you suppose he is?” Toothiana murmured, her wings fluttering nervously as she peered out at the swirling snow. “When I got off the globe with him a few hours ago, he’d been in a good mood! Do you think he got distracted along the way?”

Sandy nodded, his golden sand forming an image of a snowflake, delicate and intricate, before it dispersed into the air. North stroked his beard thoughtfully, his gaze never leaving the storm.

“Such a nuisance,” Bunny agreed, his ears twitching as he squinted into the whiteout. “But he’ll wear himself out soon enough. Let’s get started, shall we?”

“Perhaps we might,” North rumbled, his voice filled with a deep, resonant certainty. “Jack may wish to make GRAND entrance—”

Elsa stood slightly apart from the others while they discussed, her eyes fixed on the tempest outside. The storm’s power called to something deep within her, something she recognized and understood. She had created countless storms like this, back in her darker days, when her emotions had been a force she couldn’t control. Here, she’d wanted to be a good guest, so it had been a month since she’d truly put her powers to proper use, out in the relative safety of the deep Antarctic deserts. But this…

There was a wildness to it, a reckless abandon. This storm wasn’t about emotion. It was—it’s—

He’s playing!

Just as the words passed through her mind, a voice suddenly piped up behind them, casual and completely out of place in the loud, bustling, tense atmosphere.

“What are y’all looking at?”

The Guardians turned as one, startled by the unexpected intrusion. There, leaning against a large shepherd’s crook, was someone who could be none other than Jack Frost—his expression one of casual amusement as he took in the scene before him. He had somehow appeared without a sound.

The room, which had been brimming with anticipation, fell into a moment of stunned silence, then burst back into noise and life in the very next breath.

Elsa blinked, her heart still racing from the intensity of the storm and the weight of her expectations. But now, seeing Jack standing there, looking so nonchalant and distant, she didn’t know whether to laugh or feel disappointed. He was lean, with his staff slung over his shoulder, and there was an air of mischief about him, tempered by something darker, something cautious.

North was the first to fully recover, letting out a booming laugh that overpowered the other surprised voices in the room. “Jack, you never fail to surprise us! We were just admiring your WORK outside, no?”

Jack grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Oh, that? Yeah, just setting the mood.”

Bunny rolled his eyes, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re a menace, Frostbite. You know that?”

Jack shrugged, his grin widening. “Just doing my job.”

Elsa felt a strange mix of emotions as she watched the easy banter between Jack and the other Guardians. She realized, perhaps too late, that she had built up this moment in her mind, imagining a dramatic, powerful entrance that would define their first meeting. Instead, she was faced with the reality of Jack Frost: a mischievous, irreverent spirit who seemed to take very little seriously, including the storm he had unleashed.

It was at that moment—in her quiet evaluation, her unexplained disappointment, her curious, lingering hope—that Jack caught her gaze.

Blue.

The playful expression slipped away, just for a flash; his blue eyes met hers, and she saw something there amidst the lingering laughter—something raw and guarded, something that told her that, like her, he was grappling with his own mixed expectations.

For a fleeting moment, Elsa’s breath caught in her throat, not just from the intensity of his gaze, but from the unexpected warmth that spread through her, as if she’d been touched by a sudden gust of spring wind.

“Jack, Jack, my boy, come—meet Elsa! Our dear Elsa—this is Jack, our newest Guardian.”

Elsa’s heart leapt into her throat. The room seemed to hold its breath as Jack hesitated—and then he stepped forward, approaching them at the window; Elsa stood patiently at Bunny’s side, watching Jack’s tousled white hair catch the light of the whiteout outside, watching as his blue eyes deliberately scanned the decorations around the room.

Jack Frost… ?

Elsa waited, patient as a glacier as Jack’s smirking gaze flickered over the gathered Guardians as he reached them, and he saluted North with a deliberately careless air. His smirking gaze lingered on each of them before finally landing on hers.

“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you,” he replied. His tone was not unkind, but deliberately casual. “New Guardian, right? They’ve been talking about you non-stop.”

There was a hint of something sharp in his voice, and Elsa felt a pang of anxiety, which she pushed down; Bunny was covering his muttering face with his hand, and Toothiana was rolling her eyes to the ceiling in dismay—or perhaps prayer. Elsa quickly assessed the crisp stare and the hard line of his jaw; she’d been hoping for warmth, for understanding, but what she found in Jack’s gaze was something closer to suspicion.

Keeping her gaze on his, trying to ease the tension she could feel coiling between them, she softly corrected, “I’m not a Guardian.”

At least, not yet…

Or so I…

Elsa felt her chin raise; old habits falling back into place; perfect and pretty and polite, all smooth ice underneath; an effective mask for a Queen.

“I’m here on an invitation,” she said softly, and knew that he would not see the ice daggers in her eyes; not yet, although she was certain he was looking for them. “I’m very grateful to North and all of you for hosting me in honor of this autumnal celebration.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

That is suspicion there, isn’t it? And guardedness… He was trying hard to hide something behind a facade of coolness—some debonair indifference. Elsa recognized the act immediately but played along because there was something else there, too, something that made her heart ache with a familiar loneliness. I’m an ally, she tried to impress upon him through nothing more than the thought. Enough of this!

I could be a friend!

But then, Toothiana swooped in, her wings fluttering with a cheerful energy that instantly distracted them—if not immediately lifting the mood.

“Well! Isn’t this just the perfect way to spend the Equinox?” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together, drawing their attention away from one another; Elsa was grateful for Toothiana’s quick thinking, her impressive tact. “Jack, I’m sure you’re energized and starving for a glass of eggnog after all that storm-making. Let’s not waste any more time!”

“Uh, did Bunny make it?”

“What’s it to ya, you little twerp?” Bunny shot back, narrowing his eyes with mock suspicion.

Jack grinned, the tension easing slightly as he fell into what must have been familiar banter. “Just making sure it’s safe, is all. Wouldn’t want our guest of honor to get sick on her first night here.”

“Actually, she’s been here for over a month now—“

Elsa watched the exchange (Jack was rolling his eyes) with a mixture of amusement and relief and… unease. (Toothiana’s interruption had indeed worked wonders, shifting the focus away from the awkwardness of their initial encounter and giving everyone, including herself, a chance to breathe.)

(And yet… the warmth of the room contrasted sharply with the chill still clinging to her thoughts.)

As they all moved toward the dining room, Elsa fell in step beside Toothiana, grateful for the other Guardians’ subtle (for once!) alliance and support. She marveled at how, even two centuries since her last political summit, Elsa still remembered every step of walking into a political negotiation; Elsa knew how to navigate delicate situations, how to read the subtlest shifts in tone, how to win.

Elsa had always been a fine Reader of the Room; centuries of invisibility had only strengthened her skills.

And so the Trial begins…

This first impression was a test—one she intended to pass.

And although Jack started to relax once they were all seated and well into the evening—his guarded expression giving way to something more genuine as he bantered with Bunny and teased North about his over-the-top decorations—the knots in Elsa’s stomach remained.

How could she make him see that she wasn’t here to replace him—but to find her own place among them?

The Guardians fell into their usual rhythm as they ate and laughed together, the conversation flowing (mostly) easily between them. Elsa, too, had found her own rhythm with the Guardians during her month-long stay, understanding certain inside jokes and the fascinating nuances of their personalities. But even as she joined in their laughter, the tension between her and Jack was palpable, thicker than the winter storm raging outside.

She observed how Jack's eyes flicked between her and the other Guardians, his smile not quite reaching his eyes as he noted instances of the easy familiarity she had developed with them over the previous weeks. He joked along with everyone else, but there was a sharpness to his tone, occasionally—and it seemed that all the other Guardians could clearly tell, even if they were choosing to ignore it with varying degrees of patience… and understanding.

Elsa could feel him measuring every word she said, every laugh she shared with the others. It wasn’t just that she was new or unfamiliar—it was that she had quickly become a part of something that Jack had spent years, perhaps centuries, building with them.

All of the Guardians’ assurances and encouragement over the past month had not hinted at the true nature of their concern; Elsa realized quite quickly that this rift wasn’t something that could be resolved with pleasantries or polite conversation.

Winning his trust wouldn’t come easily—it would demand more than just time; it would require something deeper.

Later that night, after everyone had retired to their quarters or gone out for their evenings of work, Elsa found herself wandering the halls of North’s Workshop, her mind a whirl of thoughts and emotions, as was her wont.

The evening had not exactly gone to plan, but she supposed it could have been worse. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Jack still viewed her as a threat. It bothered her more than she cared to admit. She’d need to discuss it with Toothiana tomorrow. Perhaps they might lend me a snow globe?

As she rounded a corner, headed toward the snow globe Reminder gallery, she nearly collided with Jack himself—who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He was leaning casually against the wall, his staff resting on his shoulder, but there was a tension in his posture that belied his relaxed demeanor.

He’d been waiting for her.

“Jack,” she said, startled but keeping her voice steady; once more, familiar, old-fashioned patterns of politeness resurfaced in her moment of uncertainty. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. “Could say the same about you. Can’t sleep?”

Elsa hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. “Just... thinking. It’s been a lot to take in.”

Jack nodded, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced. He pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer, his expression unreadable. “You know, everyone seems pretty excited about you joining us. North, Bunny, even Tooth—they all think you’d be a great addition.”

She could hear the ‘but’ hanging in the air, unspoken but heavy between them; the way addition sounded like replacement.

Elsa squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze head-on. There was an intensity in his eyes, a challenge that sent a shiver down her spine, though she quickly attributed it to the cold. “Jack, I’m not here to replace you.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and clear. For a moment, Jack’s expression flickered, something vulnerable and upset flashing in his eyes before he quickly masked it with a smirk. “Who said anything about that?”

“No one—listen to me, I know you’re worried,” Elsa continued, refusing to let him deflect. “But you have no need to be. I’m not here to take your place. I’m here because…” Why am I here? “I was invited. I am simply getting to know you all better. I’ve been alone for some time.”

“Spare me the politicking,” Jack huffed, which, indeed, Elsa did take offense to. Especially since she genuinely had not been trying to be diplomatic; just careful.

Perhaps he didn’t believe her story… about being alone?

The idea was more painful than she expected.

Elsa’s eyes narrowed slightly, holding Jack’s gaze. “I’m not here to play games, Jack. I’m just looking for where I might belong—that is all.”

“Will you take the Oath, then? What’s your center?”

Elsa couldn’t explain it, but this struck her as an absurdly personal question. Still. She could recognize a caged animal when she saw one. So, Elsa took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his question press down on her. The idea of the Oath, of finding her center, had been something she had pondered endlessly since she’d learned of its existence—perhaps since her arrival, if she was being honest. But to be confronted with it so directly by Jack, someone who still seemed to see her as a rival, made it all the more daunting.

“I’m not sure,” she finally admitted, her voice quiet but steady. “I’ve been... trying to understand what it would mean for me to take the Oath, to become a Guardian.” She willed him to understand, at last. “It’s not something I want to rush into without being certain.”

Jack’s gaze remained fixed on her, his blue eyes sharp, but there was a flicker of something softer there—a recognition, perhaps, of the honesty in her words. “And your center?” he pressed. “Do you even know what it is yet?”

Elsa hesitated again, her thoughts swirling. A long time ago, she had known who she was, what she was meant to do. She’d thought so.

But after everything she had been through, all the loss, the isolation, and the rediscovery, she wasn’t sure if her center was what it once had been.

“Perhaps I might have, once,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “But now... Regardless of whether or not I join you, I’d like to think that there is something at the core of why I am still here.”

“In the Workshop?”

“No, I mean… I mean here.”

Jack tilted his head, studying her with a mix of curiosity and caution. Something told her that she finally got through to him, just a little. Elsa felt herself feeling sympathy for him; even after becoming a Guardian, he was still filled with such…

Fear.

Doubt.

He didn’t respond immediately, his expression unreadable. For a brief, startling moment, she wondered what it would be like to stand by his side, to take the Oath together—as allies, as... something more?

She brushed the thought aside, but the idea lingered, persistent.

Then, finally, he let out a small, almost reluctant sigh. “It’s not easy, you know. Being a Guardian. Finding your center. It’s... it’s not something you just, like, stumble upon.”

“I understand,” Elsa said, her tone sincere. “But if there’s a chance that this is where I’m meant to be—then I’m willing to take that risk. I’m not interested in taking that away from you. You—you haven’t even seen what I can do yet! We don’t even know how much overlap we’d find in our powers, anyway!”

“You impressed Bunny in Antartica,” he practically accused. “That’s enough to say something, isn’t it?”

Elsa was trying her very best to remain steady and calm. “And what about you? What did it take for you to find your center?”

His eyes snapped back to hers, and for a moment, she saw something raw and unguarded in his gaze. “So they didn’t tell you everything, huh?”

She gaped at him. Honestly!

Elsa took a deep breath, steadying herself as she met Jack's gaze. "Jack, you’re being ridiculous. I’m not here to steal anything from you—certainly not your place among the Guardians. I haven’t even decided if—I don’t know if—“

“I already know you’re gonna join us,” he said, almost in a whisper, as if admitting something he hadn’t wanted to face.

“Oh?” Elsa raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. “And what makes you so sure?”

Jack hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching hers, and then, with a passion she hadn’t expected, he replied, “Because there’s nothing better. There’s nothing like it. It’s everything.”

Elsa was stunned by the raw intensity of his words, the conviction in his voice. She could see it in his eyes—this was more than just a responsibility, more than just a role for him. It was his purpose, his identity—his life, or whatever this agelessness was. For a moment, the air between them seemed to crackle with something unspoken, a deep understanding that went beyond words.

She felt her heart skip a beat, a strange mixture of emotions swirling within her—curiosity, admiration, and something else, something unfamiliar. Her pulse quickened.

Jack seemed to realize the weight of his words, and he quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Wait. I... I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting,” he said, his voice softer now, more hesitant. “I guess I’ve been... on edge, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

Still shocked by how deeply his declaration affected her, how his passion stirred something within her that she hadn’t felt in a long time, Elsa softened at his apology, nodding slightly. “I… understand. And I accept your apology. I appreciate… you saying that. I’m sure it wasn’t easy to come home and see someone new in the middle of it all.”

Elsa thought she heard him laugh under his breath, mouthing the word Home—

Jack nodded, his shoulders relaxing just a bit. “Yeah... it is. Anyway. I’m tired. I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

Elsa watched him start to turn away, a sudden sense of urgency bubbling up inside her. “Jack, wait—”

He paused, glancing back at her, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. They were so wide, when they weren’t glaring!

“Shouldn’t we start over?” she asked, her voice gentler, almost tentative in her rush. She extended her hand toward him. “My name is Elsa. I happen to wield ice magic. E. Aster Bunnymund found me on an iceberg a few weeks ago as I was in the middle of creating a particularly notable blizzard, and he invited me to meet his friends, whom he loves and respects very much.”

Jack looked at her hand, then back at her face, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Slowly, a smirk crawled over his face.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Jack floated closer, and Elsa held steady—stories or no stories, she had not been prepared to see him fly! “I’m Jack. I also happen to ‘wield’ ice and frost magic. Bunny did not find me on an iceberg, but I’m pretty sure he’d love to stick me in one. Nice to meet you, Elsa, who promises not to steal my spot on the A-team. Welcome to the madness,” and he reached out and took her hand in his, giving it a firm shake.

The moment their hands touched, a strange, electric current seemed to pass between them, and Elsa felt her breath hitch in her throat.

Oh—

He’s—he’s rather handsome, she realized with a start.

They held each other’s gaze for a moment longer than necessary, the air between them thick with something she could not, would not name.

Jack was the first to break the silence, his voice a little rougher than before. “Yeah... maybe we should—”

They let go of each other’s hands, but the sensation of his touch lingered, warm and unsettling. Elsa felt a flush creep up her cheeks, unsure of what to make of the emotions swirling inside her.

“Uh—goodnight, Elsa."

“Goodnight, Jack,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt.

And with that, he turned and disappeared back into the shadows of the corridor, leaving Elsa standing alone in the soft glow of the snow globe gallery. She watched him go, a mix of hope and uncertainty swirling in her chest. The conversation had been difficult, but it had also been a step forward—a tentative, fragile step toward something more. Right?

As she turned back to her quarters, Elsa found herself tracing the line of his smirk in her mind, the curve of his jaw, the sharpness of his eyes—after weeks of wondering about what he might look like, might be like, she finally had the vision, the Memory of his face.

She rushed with the ornate door handle of her guest room, eager to be inside her room, alone, in the peace and quiet, and finally process the events of the evening, to reflect on all that she'd learned, she'd accomplished, she'd proved.

Exhausted by the sheer weight of so many careful decisions in so short a time, Elsa closed the door behind her with a deep sigh. Exhausted, yes, but also satisfied. She shut her eyes as she leaned against the back of the door and allowed herself a small, tentatively victorious grin, content in the knowledge that when she drifted off to sleep that night, the echoes of their meeting, their tentative truce would fill her mind; this moment gave her, indeed, a sense of Hope that she hadn’t felt in years...

But, in her mind, the Memory that lingered most vividly, as she tossed and turned—was his face.

ao3 ✨

#08192024 update #fixed some typos!!! some missing italics representing thoughts which i think tumblr ate!!!#jelsa #sanfangirl-cynicalromantic #I LOVE YOU LADY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF YOUR SUPER THOUGHTFUL ASKS #therentyoupay two homes #therentyoupay fic #therentyoupay fic prompts #therentyoupay ask #ngl it's also so good for me to just write one-offs and ficlets and prompts every once in a while!!#A PALLTETTE CLEANSERRR #also spoiler alert if jack is not pining then ELSA IS THE ONE PINING LMAO

131 notes · View notes

buwheal · 9 months ago

Note

I'm sorry, Spamton. I know you won't believe me, but I'm sorry we hurt you.

#GOD this fucker corrupted my gif again.#Ignore the page is missing im not gonna fix it. Hes looking at the paper. its just uhhh out of your view #made this one up on the spot lmao i dont have many inbetweens planned... if its not up to par to the others thats why #i wish i did do inbetweens but i only have the main ones planned #btw usually when he asks stuff like this he's looking for a response (im looking for a response. me.)#thank you anon oh my goooooodddd you were my descending angel while looking for an ask along these lines #this ask is perfect. Not too overcomplicated. nothing that would set him off. Short and sweet and to the point but its got nice impact.#in this context at least. I rlly needed it lol.#some were.. too much and some were really half assed apologies that go immediately back to asking him stuff LMAOOO #Guysss work with me here im actually trying to guide you to really apologize to him #[you've got mail!]#spamton #spamton g spamton #deltarune #deltarune spamton #deltarune chapter 2 #Ill fix the inside of the dumpster later. its not to scale goddamnit.#Typos in his speech are on purpose to clarify lol #spent a damn hour fixing the gif. grrhhhhh....

141 notes · View notes

harundraws · 6 months ago

Text

another commission art i forgot i never shared over on tumblr

a pouty Jackie wearing one of Shauna’s flannels for @/demon32835 ⁎⁺˳✧༚

#yellowjackets #harun art #jackie taylor #jackie and shauna fighting abt smth #jackie only needs to go ’’shaunaaaaaa’’ in her spoiled kid tone and it’s over for shauna #jackie won the round #i realized i actually have a couple more artworks lying around that i never shared here #cross posting the same thing is quite tedious #wish you could just make one post and it would publish on all of your socials at the same time #but also i have taivan on the brain so anything not immediately taivan related is just not registering for me #EDIT: oh lmao i didn’t notice my typo i’m fuckign sleepy and tired i’m sorry ohh mygodddd

78 notes · View notes

verbenaa · 3 months ago

Text

snippet sunday 😈

thank you to @elinorbard for tagging meeeee you're the best 💖

hello and happy kinktober. I'm behind on my fics for this month but worry not, for I am 100% COOKING. here's a snippet from one of them 🥵

tagginggggg @khywren @xxnashiraxx @inkymoonbunny @roguishcat @ladyduellist @justabiteofspite @preciouslittlebhaalbae @eraserspiral and anyone else to post something if you want to ✨💖!!!

#lmao if I close out october having posted 2 kinktober fics I will be so psyched #I am many things but a quick writer is not one of them #so I shall just continue to appease you all with smut snippets like they're candy #also i wrote this literally this morning during my coffee so if you see any typos NO YOU DIDN'T #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #astarion smut #astarion bg3 #astarion fics #kinktober #bg3 kinktober #tag games #verbenaa writes things!

40 notes · View notes

tonydaddingham · 9 months ago

Text

the clod and the pebble

#i have neither the skills nor the facility to make a properly good gifset #but i have a love of william blake. by god was i going to bring that vision to life #this was just simply the only format in which it would work #good omens #classics omens #lmao not me only realising now the typo in the first one. fuck it it still makes sense even if it changes the tone a bit #lets pretend it was an artistic choice yeah

82 notes · View notes

veoutsold · 28 days ago

Text

Mouthwashing OC Yap Session

Extremely random facts about Charlie

She's canonically visually impaired, after her glasses shattered during the crash her vision began to strain throughout time due to her lack of sleep

Her favorite food ever is Pad Thai

She was one of those kids in high school who'd get mad over a 91% on a test

She's very adaptable and is used to working under pressure, so it takes a gradual process in order to break through her tough skin though it's very easy to annoy her

She avoids talking about her "odd" or "childish" interests around anyone who isn't a close friend because she doesn't want to come off as unprofessional (Ex: sharing her doodles with others, her love for fantasy series)

The smell of post-crash Curly's exposed flesh made her extremely nauseous or sometimes even vomit, so she'd normally avoid clinical all together until Anya died

Anya was her only friend on the Tuplar, thus Anya knows about her the most

Her and Curly used to highly respect each other, Curly would often try to include or make small-talk with her because she's so used to working independently

She has motion sickness

One of her dreams since she was little was to walk on the moon, she was obsessed with those documentaries about the first moon landing as a child

She normally has a resting bitch face so Jimmy and Swansea always assumes she's angry about something

She's a very imaginative person. People see her as a typical boring know-it-all with how hyperfocused she is, but she'll find ways to escape reality during her free time

Her favorite music genre is indie rock & those melancholic Russian songs

She genuinely loves figuring out and learning about how things function, one of the main reasons as to why she's so captivated by astronomy is how differently the laws of physics work outside of earth's atmosphere

Charlie HORRIBLE at lying. It's so easy to catch a small gesture from her that blows her cover.

And also giving that she's a pretty honest person, she doesn't like lying. She won't be blatantly rude of course, but if she absolutely has to she'll be brutally honest. No beating around the bush with her most of the time.

--------------------------------------------

What Charlie's character is meant to represent:

Because she's so used to being referred to as "the smart one" or a "smartass", when she feels backed into a corner or cannot figure a proper solution for something major she'll begin to break down.

If there's no remaining puzzle pieces in her vicinity then it'll hinder her mental health tremendously.

Charlie is for the people who cannot do anything about a situation that they desperately want to get out of or feel obligated to try and fix, so they result to escaping reality in order to distract themselves temporarily to cope.

She absorbs herself in all of those textbooks to gain any ounce of knowledge she can find to fill her mental pain and stress; and all while her vision deteriorates day by day resembling her mental stability running thin.

(Thank you for reading til the end!! It means a lot to me 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️)

22 notes · View notes

stevesworld96 · 1 year ago

Text

look at me now (part one)

--- steve harrington x fem!reader

childhood friends to strangers to lovers. this is a more realistic look at developing a relationship with steve, set in canon while you know nothing about the monsters, or the nightmares, or all of his scars.

a fic about knowing steve before, during, and after the events of the upside down. including all the ways your friendship with him grows, wilts, then grows again - to blossom into something he probably doesn’t deserve.

tags: fem reader, no use of y/n, childhood friends, typical king steve meanness, yes there is an allusion to steve being icarus, kissing, fighting and making up, cliches, a lot of emotions, depression and suffering etc, reader has an aunt, mentions of death and injuries, codependent steve and robin, steve is so so so so so so so sad. hawkins doesn't get destroyed after the vecna fight - everything else follows canon

please read both parts, i worked so hard on this fic and i'm really proud of it :)

part two!!!

word count: 14878

You knew Steve Harrington better than you knew anybody. At least, you liked to think so.

You were five when you moved to Hawkins into the house right next door to Steve’s, and as things go when you’re a kid, that automatically made you best friends. At that age you didn’t have to try to be friends with somebody - as long as they lived nearby and had a bike, that sealed the deal.

He was only knee high to his mother, hiding behind her legs when she brought him over to introduce themselves. “We’re the Harrington's,” she said, then with a tight laugh, “minus one - my husband. This is our son. Steve - say hi, Stevie.”

He didn’t. Your mothers started a polite conversation and your eyes darted between the tall woman and her son. She was dressed like she had somewhere important to be, with red lipstick painted on her lips and pearls hung around her neck. She was pretty.

Her son didn’t stand with the same pride she had - he was peeking at you, tugging the hem of his mother’s dress and looking down at his feet. You could hardly get a good look at him, and he didn’t even wave back at you. His haircut was prim and proper; the button up shirt he wore was swallowing him.

They came inside for lemonade, and you led Steve into your living room, and by the end of the hour you had instantly become friends, bonding over your toy car collection that Steve loved.

You were kids - of course things were so easy.

To see him, all you had to do was walk over to his front door and knock, and you could spend as much time together as you wanted. Or just wait until his parents needed a babysitter - after they learned how much you and Steve loved spending time together, they started to drop him off at your house and you’d have sleepovers for days.

It was when Mr. Harrington had gotten a big promotion that they’d leave Steve with your family nearly once a week.

“I’m sorry, Stevie, I know me and Dad haven’t been home much lately. But next month isn’t as busy for us,” his mom would tell him.

“It’s okay, Mom,” he’d reply. “Don’t worry, I like staying here, so I’m alright.”

At your age you didn’t see the irony in a seven year old telling his mother that things were okay - shouldn’t it be the other way around? - but those apologies from his mother wouldn’t last very long. And the promises she always made were never kept. Soon enough, she stopped making them altogether.

Sometimes he’d just show up at your door, and your parents didn’t have to ask questions because they already knew more than you did, and you didn’t understand that he was more comfortable in your bedroom than in his own.

The routine of your friendship felt like the foundation of your life. Everything you did was with Steve by your side, like you were tied together with an invisible string that couldn’t be broken. Snacks after school were a must; movie nights every other weekend were your safe haven. The last day of school every year you camped out in his backyard under the stars and then woke up early for a big breakfast and a day spent at the arcade. Even as you got older, those things stayed the same.

You had busier schedules to work around in high school but you still made it work. After-school lunch turned into midnight snacks, and you moved from the arcade to the lake, but you were still intertwined with child-like joy and ease.

Steve’s other friends were another story. Tommy H was a thorn in your side that you couldn’t pick out, but Steve didn’t get why you hated him so much. At first, you didn’t get it either - you just did.

Until one day early in your junior year, Tommy H gave you a good enough reason for your disposition.

Like always, Steve was waiting for you outside of your last class of the day, and you were just about to turn the corner when you heard Tommy’s loud, boisterous, annoying voice.

“Steve, my boy, what’cha standing around here for?”

Steve laughed, even though Tommy had said nothing funny.

“Waiting on your favorite girl so I can get outta here - what’s up, dude?”

“Come on,” Tommy said, dragging the words out. “We got shit to do, ditch her and let’s get a roll on, if you catch my drift.”

You could see his stupid face in your head as he spoke - you just wanted him to go away so you could leave. But you’d wait there forever if it meant you didn’t have to have a conversation with him.

You were hardly paying any mind to their words.

“Can’t, dude, I’m her ride home. Tomorrow though, for sure.”

“She’s holding you back, man.”

But that caught your attention. They were both laughing even though, again, no one had said anything funny.

“Y’think so?”

“She even put out?”

Your eyes rolled so far back to your head they could’ve gotten stuck.

“It’s not like that with her.”

“Oh, that’s not what Kimmy thinks.”

“What? What do you mean - did she say something?”

You knew Kimmy to be the new flavor of the week, Steve’s new eye candy. It’d be someone new in a matter of days - and this was one brand new trait of his you were struggling to overlook.

“Just saying, most of the chicks think you’re taken by Miss Bitch -”

You call Tommy H a dickhead to his face one time and he gives you a nickname that sticks for three years.

“- and that’s why you’re not getting any action, dude. Gotta shake off the fleas, man.”

And then Steve laughed. Loud.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to do. You hoped he would defend you even a little bit, but he didn’t. He just laughed, and said, “I’ll think about it, man,” as if he was in on this joke, and then Tommy left.

And you didn’t know how you felt.

It’s not like Steve said it. But he had no problem listening to Tommy H talk about you that way. He thought it was funny.

Or, he was just saving face - did that make a difference?

You knew Tommy’s words were complete bullshit, and you didn’t care about him enough to let it affect you. Maybe Steve felt the same - maybe he just went along with it because it was easier.

You hoped so, because that’s what you chose to do. You brushed it off and walked out of the room and acted as if nothing happened.

“Hey - about time.”

You didn’t reply; he continued talking as you walked together.

“You hungry?”

“Thought you were coming over,” you said. “Told you I wanted to build a blanket fort. Remember?”

He huffed out a scoff, “A blanket fort? Are you six?” The glare you gave him made him reel his judgment back in. “Fine. Let’s go.”

…

As soon as basketball season was over and you had your weekends back to yourself, you were ready to get through your watch list of movies as quickly as possible. You’d never tell Steve that cheering for him at his games was your least favorite part of your friendship with him - you would always keep that selfishness to yourself.

And if you weren’t so wrapped up in your own mind, lost in planning your movie night, you may have been able to see your next conversation with Steve coming.

“There she is, been lookin’ all over for you.”

A heavy arm slung around your shoulders as you walked down the school hall. You didn’t have to question who it was.

“What do you want, Steve?”

“Just want to see my best friend in the whole world, is there something wrong with that?”

You rolled your eyes. Obviously he’s up to something.

“I’m going to choose to ignore you,” you said, shaking off his arm and stopping at your locker. His back fell into the metal next to you.

“What’s up?” he asked, and he was trying too hard to be inconspicuous, but you ignored it.

“Nothing. Oh, I think I finally have a cookie recipe we’ll like. Mrs. Jenkins gave it to me but she made me swear I wouldn’t share her secrets. Gonna pick up the stuff after school - have you picked your movie yet?”

Then his eyes widened, a bit too much to look genuine. “Oh, shit, is that tonight?”

“It’s Friday, isn’t it?”

“I completely forgot about that, shit. I made other plans without thinking.”

“Well, cancel them,” you said with a straight face.

“Well… what if you join in on my plans instead?”

You closed your locker and didn’t even consider entertaining Steve’s idea. “My mom’s already planning to make dinner for you. Are you ready to face her wrath?”

“Well - no,” he said. “It’s just - y’know, I was supposed to see Nancy tonight, and…”

“Oh, I get it, you wanna cancel so you can get laid. Is that it?”

“No, Christ - I’ll be there, alright? But next time, I’m getting my way.”

You laughed at him, and the bell rang and ended your conversation.

You didn’t think the night would go any differently than your normal hangouts. Maybe if you were expecting it, the disappointment wouldn’t have stung so bad.

He called you early.

“Hello?”

“Hey -”

“Hey, have you picked up the movies yet? I forgot to get popcorn, so…”

“No, I haven’t. Listen, um…” There was static on the line for a moment before he continued. “Sorry, but - can we - are you sure we can’t reschedule? Like, tomorrow night?”

You groaned, you were annoyed. But even when he argued with you, Steve never ditched your valued traditions - he may act bothered sometimes, but he would always come around. Even if he did gripe about it being childish the entire time.

That’s what you thought this would be.

“No, Steve, I have book club and tutoring and dinner with my aunt tomorrow. You know this.”

“Right. I guess I forgot about that. Okay, well…”

“...Well?”

Once again, he was quiet, and you weren’t sure if he was hesitating because he didn’t know what to say, or because he was nervous.

“Well - I think it’d be really fun if we hung out at my place tonight!”

“I guess I can bring all the ingredients for the cookies over. You do have a nicer oven…” you said.

“No, like, you can come over with everyone else I invited and we could -”

“I thought you canceled that?”

“I was going to, but… Tommy wouldn’t take no for an answer! And we already got the booze, and Nance finally said yes and - and I’d be really happy if you were here too!”

“...Okay.”

“Okay…?”

You thought for a moment, then decided to ask him the question you were asking yourself.

“Would you be happy if I was there, or would you be happy if I’m not mad at you for canceling?”

“Uh - either one.”

“Right.”

That answer was good enough for you, even though it wasn’t the one you wanted. You weren’t getting anything you wanted that night, and you weren’t going to fight for it with someone who already had their mind made up.

“Then have fun,” you said.

“Really? We can cancel?”

The excitement in his voice caused an angry laugh. “Yeah. Bye.” And you hung up.

And you made your cookies, and you watched the movies you already had on tape, and you didn’t miss the popcorn but you wished you had Steve’s lap to put your feet on - and it was fine.

You were sure he was having fun. And maybe he didn’t care at all about your canceled plans - because he was too busy with people who didn’t like you, doing something more exciting than what the two of you did as kids.

It was selfish to be angry. Maybe it was wrong. But you let it boil over anyway.

…

You didn’t talk to him for a week after that. Because you didn’t want to, and you wanted to teach him a lesson, and you hoped it would make him sorry.

Maybe you were being immature, but at this point, you were committed.

You were afraid that you were setting the wrong example - that, maybe, he thought you were angry about him making his own plans, when the problem was how he’d canceled yours so last minute. Or perhaps it was both. But now you had dragged it out too long and you were stuck giving Steve the cold shoulder until he finally caved in and apologized.

That’s all you wanted, really: an apology. And a bribe or two, just to get the most out of this argument. That’s how things usually went: you give him the silent treatment and he shows up at your door with your favorite snacks and a new book, and things would go back to normal.

But not this time.

You’d managed to bike to school without being caught by Steve all week, but you’d underestimated him waiting for you at the bike racks at the end of the day on Thursday.

He stood with his arms crossed and his brows drawn together. The moment you saw him you stopped in your tracks, like if you stayed still he wouldn’t see you, but his gaze was locked on. It didn’t look kind.

So you prepared yourself for this fight.

“What are you doing?” he asked, but his tone said something different - it said, I’m sick of your shit.

“What are you doing?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Just wondering how long you’re going to keep dragging this out.”

You kept darting around his words and moved to get your bike as if he’d let you leave so easily. “I’m not dragging anything out. Don’t know what you mean.”

His arms flung out to his sides as his voice raised, “You’re acting like a fucking kid!”

And your volume matched his, “You hurt my feelings!”

“Well - grow up!”

The short silence that followed felt heavy, but he didn’t let it sit for long.

“I mean - come on - I ditch you one time and all of a sudden we’re not friends anymore? Really?”

“A sorry would be nice, Steve.”

“I’ve said sorry.” Both of you knew that he hadn’t, but it didn’t matter now. “But sorry isn’t enough, is it? You’re just mad that I have new friends. Because I don’t want to just - sit around and fucking - watch movies in your living room like we’re kids -”

“Like we’re kids,” you said, laughing. “Yeah - right, because that’s really what this is about, isn’t it, Steve?”

He looked confused, and you didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“Because I’m holding you back. Right? Tommy H said it so it must be true. I’m a bitch and I’m keeping you down and you need to shake me off if you ever want to get any action - that’s what it is. Just say it, Steve.”

“Where is this coming from?” He ran a hand through his hair and his voice sounded desperate, but you weren’t sure what for. Maybe to salvage the remnants of a wounded friendship, to turn this conversation around. But your anger wouldn’t let him.

“You know where it’s coming from. I heard it, Steve, and you - you agreed with him! I’m your best friend but you can’t even defend me to your shitty fucking friends - so just say it! You’re the one who doesn’t want me around -”

“That’s not what happened -”

You were so angry, and he was lying, and Steve never lied to you, and he’d filled you with so much venom that you couldn’t help spitting it out as you stepped closer to him. “It is. And you’re turning it on me when you’re the shitty friend. Stop lying to me and just say it.”

“Yeah, maybe that is what it is - and I was just too fucking stupid to see it before now. That you’re so fucking clingy I can’t even have one night with a girl without you getting jealous. He was right. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Yeah, it was,” and you pulled your bike free and your foot hit the kickstand so hard that it hurt, and you told yourself the pain was the reason tears were flooding your eyes.

“Maybe I’m better off without you - have you ever thought about that? Is that your fucking problem?”

“Whatever! I don’t care anymore! You never have to watch another fucking movie with me again, alright? We won’t go to the arcade or build stupid fucking blanket forts or any of the other childish shit you hate so much!”

“Good - fucking - good!”

“And I hope you have fun playing King, and I hope when all your friends turn on you and Nancy dumps your ass - because you’re an asshole - that I’m the last person you run to for help, and I hope your dad is real fucking proud of you, because you’re turning out to be just fucking like him.”

It all fell out like you were pushing rocks off of a cliff - fast and angry and hard. You knew what those words would do to him. You knew you were hurting his feelings more than he had ever hurt yours - that you were putting the knife in too deep to pull out. You knew and you said it anyway, because you were mad and he was being a dick and lashing out felt good. Especially when you could hop on your bike and ride away from him, fast enough to avoid watching the blood pooling at his feet.

The worst part is that you were being honest.

Steve stood there alone and didn’t even turn to watch you ride away. He felt like hitting something, or screaming until his lungs were empty and tired.

And he didn’t even have time for any of this. He was finally making decisions for himself, for once, and who were you to get mad at him for that? He was popular, he had a girlfriend who was actually into him, his parents had finally gotten off his back. Things were going fantastic for him and he wasn’t going to let you mess it up because you were… jealous, or selfish, or whatever it was - Steve didn’t care.

He wasn’t going to lose sleep over you refusing to grow up and give him space. He was on top of the world, and you were trying to tear him down.

He didn’t need you, anyway.

…

Months passed.

And, like you had put a hex on him, all of your words came true - and then some. It didn’t take very long for things to crumble around him, and Steve almost thought it was funny how quickly his wings had melted to send him hurling into the ground.

No matter how hard he tried patching the holes, everyone knows you can’t fly with wings made of wax.

The fall hurt. But it was what came after that brought the real pain - a stinging, striking ache that was impossible to ignore. It felt like he was the last person on earth and he deserved it; like he shouldn’t be allowed to be around other people because he was no good.

And every time he tried putting the pieces back together, things only got more broken - all starting at Jonathan Byers’ front door.

What could get worse than fighting a monster from an alternate dimension?

Or fucking things up with your girlfriend beyond repair?

Or fighting those monsters again?

He learned quickly to stop asking stupid questions like those.

And he learned that he couldn’t just close his eyes and wish it away. He couldn’t run when things got scary; he couldn’t lash out when someone was honest with him; he couldn’t sneak out of his window and into yours when the yelling got too loud. He was forced to face everything he ever hid from, cursed to have regrets and keep them.

At least he wasn’t completely alone - the company of nerdy kid genius Dustin Henderson brought most of these lessons on. And in a normal situation Steve wouldn’t recommend learning anything from a kid in junior high, but he was living anything but a normal life. He’d take friends wherever he could get them, especially during senior year.

Maybe he wanted to set a good example for the kids that suddenly came into his life. Maybe he wanted to prove to himself that he wasn’t his father - that he could do good things without getting something out of it. Or maybe, most likely, he just did it.

He wanted to feel like a superhero, wanted to look in the mirror and feel proud of what stared back at him. But he didn’t, because he wasn’t. He wasn’t brave or heroic or gallant - he was no Clark Kent. And everything he did was because he had to. Because who else would?

Sometimes he felt like only someone as careless as him would fight a man-eating creature with nothing but a baseball bat - because out of everyone he knew, he had the least to lose. Why bother making safe decisions when most days he didn’t even want to get out of bed? What was he risking when he’d already bet it all and lost?

And who would be proud of that?

But there were moments, in the time between the fall and the fight, that he could almost see it. Like a flicker of light passing by he’d see Max smiling at him, hear Dustin’s excited laughter, feel a heavy high five from Lucas and he’d think - oh. Right there, standing in front of him, were the people he had to lose. The ones he was trying to win for.

And then he’d lay in bed at night and get stuck in another sleepless round of self loathing; hatred fueled by every cruel word he’d spit and all the selfish acts he’d taken, and fuck, he was spinning and suffocating and screaming, and maybe he deserved this.

It didn’t matter that he knew how to swing a fucking bat good enough to win more time for the ones he loved, because he wouldn’t love them right, anyway. And he’d turned the best person he’d ever known into nothing more than a crumpled piece of paper on his floor - something to be tossed aside and forgotten. And even if he tried smoothing it out, those creases would always be there.

Sometimes he stared out his window and watched yours. Waited for your light to turn off so he could look away and stop wondering what you were doing and how your life was without him in it.

All he wanted was to see you again. He’d beg for that movie night he ditched on junior year. He wanted to grab you by your shoulders and show you that he’s better now, he’s changed, those last words you told him weren’t applicable anymore and everything can just go back to how it was.

But nothing was ever that easy, was it?

He was glad when graduation finally came around, until he was forced into a sailor’s uniform with an ice cream scoop on his belt like a gun in a holster.

It was one way to spend the summer. It got him out of the house he hated staying in, and put a little money in his pocket, so slinging ice cream at Scoop’s Ahoy was good enough for him.

It distracted him from the vague nightmares he kept having and the fact that he got into a total of zero universities, and the free ice cream counted as dinner on his bad days. And he was fine with his obnoxious co-worker and annoying customers.

He was just fine.

But it was Hawkins. Nothing could stay fine there - not after a little girl with super powers opened a portal to an alternate fucking dimension and turned the town into a magnet for every fucked up thing imaginable.

Steve thought it was over, and then Dustin had him and Robin translating the Russian words he heard over his radio, and they were all pulled back in.

He wasn’t expecting to fall into the Russian lair under Starcourt Mall, to trauma bond with Robin - of all people - or to get any closer to dying than he already had, but he stopped betting on his expectations a long time ago.

By the time he saw the night sky again, he couldn’t remember how many punches he’d been thrown.

His head throbbed to the beat of his heart. It felt like if he tapped his temple, his eye would pop right out. His work uniform was ruined, stained with blood and spit, but the smoke billowing from Starcourt ensured that he wouldn't be needing it anymore.

The events of the night felt like they were years away. All he remembered was running, screaming, crying; he remembered the fist coming toward his face but not the impact. He woke up to pain, and then it was gone - more running and bleeding and fighting and then, it was over.

Robin sat next to him, shivering, on the back of an ambulance. The lights from the siren were blinding, the noise around him was punching his ear drums.

“Are we alive?” Robin asked. Her voice was totally shot.

“Think so.”

“I want to lay down so bad.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Do you have someone to call?”

She sighed deep. “Not really.” She let it be quiet for only a second, then said, “I don’t really want to go home. To be honest.”

“You wanna spend the night here?”

“If I don’t have to be alone, then, yeah.”

He sighed, too, then patted her knee.

He said, “I’ll call someone, alright?” and she nodded.

The payphone was a bit of a walk, and he had to wait behind two people in line, but it was enough time for him to muster up the courage to make the call. Even still, when he had the phone in his hand, all he could do was stare at it.

He was trying to remember the exact words you said to him the last time he spoke to you. Something like, “I hope I’m the last one you call,” he was sure. It was hard to remember your phrasing now, but the memory still stung all the same.

And he knows it’s not fair to call you, but he was going to anyway. Because in all honesty, you were the only option he had.

Any other time, he’d rely on Hopper for a ride. But Hopper wasn’t around anymore.

So he dialed your number and prayed you hadn’t changed it from the one he knew by heart.

Your hand darted out of your blanket to reach your bedside telephone. The ringing killed your half asleep ears, and you hardly knew what you were doing when you put the receiver to your ear.

“Hello?”

You could barely get the word out; your voice was thick with sleep that was slowly creeping over you.

“Hey. It’s Steve.”

With your heavy eyes shut, sleep was pulling you back in. Your whole body jumped a little bit when you attempted to stay awake.

“Steve?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry for waking you up, but -”

You didn’t know what was going on, and then you heard sirens on the phone. A jolt of anxiety seared through you at the sound. That’s what got you to wake up - then you realized who you were talking to.

“Steve?”

“...Yeah.”

“What - what’s wrong?”

Your heart was pounding out of your chest as you sat up in bed, holding yourself up with one shaky arm.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you held your breath until he answered your question. “There was an, uh - accident at Starcourt, and - I don’t know who else to call. I’m sorry, I can’t drive right now and I don’t have anybody else.”

“Are you okay?”

“Barely.”

You didn’t give your answer a second thought. “I’ll be there in, like, five minutes, okay?”

You could hear his breath of relief over the phone. “Okay. Thank you.”

After stealing your mother’s car keys, you stuffed your bare feet into combat boots and ran to the car. Even though you still only had your learners permit, you absolutely floored it to the mall without a single thought in your mind. It was like you were on autopilot, simply doing what you were supposed to, because you were scared.

You saw plumes of smoke before Starcourt ever came into view, and you swallowed through your dry throat because you knew something bad happened.

You had to fight through crowds and cops before you were allowed to pass under the police tape to search for Steve, which wasn’t easy. Every face you saw wasn’t his and each second that passed dug a deeper pit in your stomach.

The second-to-last ambulance in the lineup is where you found him, sitting next to a girl whose head was on his shoulder.

And when you saw him… it wasn’t him. Your eyes glazed over him because he was hardly recognizable.

You’d seen him beat up before. He’s had his fair share of fights at school; you wiped blood off his face and helped him nurse black eyes. But it was never like this.

His left eye was swollen shut. Crimson stained from his eyebrow to his jawline. His skin was aggravated red, his clothes were blood rusted, his knuckles were ripped open.

And still, somehow, his hair looked perfectly done. That sight alone made you want to laugh and cry at the same time, because of course he managed to keep its style untouched. It was so Steve.

You ran to him; your legs carried you there on their own, shoelaces smacking against wet pavement. You weren’t thinking when you called out his name or when you flung your arms around his neck. You hugged him like it would heal him, like the scent of your perfume could cover the smoke he smelled of.

It’d been almost a year since you’d talked to him, and the jagged edges of your ended friendship still cut deep, but you didn’t care. Not when he looked the way he did; not when he was hugging you so tight; not when your tears were dripping onto his skin.

You pulled back and looked at him, and his wounds didn’t look any better up close.

“Oh my god, Steve, are you okay? What the hell happened?”

“I’m alright,” he said. He wouldn’t look at you, or couldn’t bring himself to. “I’m just glad you came. I’m sorry -”

“Don’t,” you said, and then you looked around at the scene. “Have the paramedics even seen you? Why are you just sitting here?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I - I’m fine. They said I’m fine. They’re all busy with others but - I’m fine, don’t worry.”

That’s when you noticed the girl next to him, who was looking at you like you were crazy, and you realized what you were potentially barging in on.

They sat close - too close to be friendly. They were basically cuddling when you first saw them. It was obvious what they were, so of course she was looking at you that way.

You didn’t mean to make her jealous, but a part of you didn’t care.

“Are both of you okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, answering for the two of them. The girl nodded. “This is Robin, by the way.”

You introduced yourself to her, trying to be cordial even though you were meeting in the worst of situations.

“You two can stay at my place tonight, if you want to,” you told them. Steve asked Robin if she was okay with that, and she said yes, and so you led them to your car.

You weren’t sure why you made the offer to Steve - you wanted him with you, sure. After seeing the condition he was in, you wouldn’t sleep unless you knew you were keeping him safe and sound in your own bedroom.

Old habits die hard.

But, all things considered, you should have just taken him to his own home, where he could be with Robin in peace. Without cut ties lingering in the air like flies.

You drove him home anyway.

Nobody spoke until you got to your bedroom.

“Do you need a shower?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. Robin nodded.

“Okay. Robin, you can take my bathroom. Steve can shower downstairs.”

You dug through bottom drawers to find clothes for each of them - you still had the ones Steve kept stored there, as embarrassing as it was, so it wasn’t a difficult task. And you’d let Robin choose from your pajama drawer.

And then you got back into bed, because you didn’t know what else to do for them.

Robin stood in the doorway of your bathroom, just staring into the room. When Steve opened your bedroom door, she snapped her head back to him.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

She glanced over at you. You wanted to hide from the tension in the room.

“I - I don’t know how to use this faucet.”

He showed her how, and then made for the exit, but she called for him again.

“I was just thinking - you know - if we both shower at the same time, won’t the water pressure be super low? And what if the hot water runs out before I’m done, and -”

“I’ll be quick, Robs,” he said. “It’ll be fine.”

Steve took one step into the hallway before stopping. The darkness looked like it went on forever. He didn’t remember your house being so unlit, or having so many hiding places, and suddenly his legs were shaky.

“...You’re probably right, though. I’ll just wait out here until you’re done.”

“Yeah. And I’ll keep the door cracked open, for… all the steam.”

“That’s a good idea.”

And he sat on the floor right outside of the bathroom door. When Robin was finished, they swapped places. As if they couldn’t be apart for longer than twenty minutes.

You didn’t ask them any questions.

…

The two of them slept on a pallet of old blankets on your bedroom floor. Robin made Steve sleep closest to the door. He tried not to be upset about it.

And he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, but it seemed to swallow him. He didn’t dream, or toss and turn, but he woke up unrested.

Everything still hurt just as bad as it did the night before. And Robin’s snoring was making his headache worse.

You were no longer in bed, so he decided to get up and find you.

He wasn’t sure what kind of interaction he’d be walking into when he found you in the kitchen, but he tried to keep his head high.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hey.” You had a mug in your hand. “Your eye looks better.”

“It doesn’t feel any better,” he said, and he wanted to make a joke that it actually looks worse - because when he closes his right eye, everything’s blurry - but he held that one in. He wasn’t ready for a comedic coping mechanism quite yet.

You put Tylenol on the island that separated the two of you. “Take them. I don’t know if it’ll help much, but it can’t hurt.”

The bottle said to take two, so he took three. And then the awkward quiet started washing in.

Until, “I saw what happened on the news,” and Steve almost coughed up the water he was chugging.

“What are they saying?” he asked, because he didn’t know what story he was supposed to be playing along with.

“Just talking about the fire,” you said. Your voice sounded so dim, and Steve hated it. “It’s… crazy. Hopper… he…” You couldn’t say the word.

“I know,” Steve said.

“And thirty others.”

His throat felt dry. “Thirty?”

Truly, he didn’t know that many people hadn’t survived. And now, it all felt real. Really real.

“Yeah,” you replied. “I’m just glad - you were lucky to get out, Steve.”

You had no clue how lucky he’d really been. And hopefully you would never have to know.

“I know.”

You sat your mug down, brushed your hands on your chest like you were trying to wipe off everything you knew of the accident, then blew out a loud breath.

“Let’s just think about something else.”

Almost at the same time as you, he spoke. “Thank you.”

“...What for?”

“For coming to my rescue,” he said, huffing a laugh. “I know that I… didn’t really deserve it.”

“Don’t thank me, Steve.”

“Seriously. You could’ve just told me to walk home, but you didn’t.”

“I’m just being a good friend,” you said, then shrugged. “I hope you would do it for me.”

“In a heartbeat.”

He wondered if this was his chance to say sorry.

Or if there was even a point in it.

He was afraid you’d do no more than laugh in his face, and even if he deserved it he didn’t want to succumb to it.

But he had to. Because he almost died last night. And he could be fighting those monsters again, any day now. Was he going to lose this chance? Or is he going to die without saying another word to you?

He stared down at his ripped knuckles. The wounds still looked fresh. They stung just from touching the open air.

He stared, and stared, and stared, and - he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t say a word. He couldn’t face it.

Your footsteps toward him made him jump back.

You were holding a box of band-aids.

You held out your hand, asking for his without words, and he offered both of them to you. First his right, then his left, were covered in pink, green, and yellow band-aids by you.

It was gentle and kind, the way you went about it. Like you would hurt him even more if you weren’t careful.

He still had dried blood under his nails and splinters in his palms. He watched your clean hands holding his beaten up ones and he felt bad, because your skin was too soft to bother with the cuts and calluses on his.

But you held them anyway.

He put his fingers through yours and you didn’t stop him. He wanted to cry.

“I’m just glad you're alright.”

He didn’t know what to say - there wasn’t anything to say, he guessed. Nothing to make it better or change anything.

All he could do was squeeze your hand and watch you wipe tears off your cheeks.

Until he noticed a cut on the back of your hand. He pulled it closer so he could get a better look.

“What happened?”

“I dropped a knife while I was cooking last night. It’s fine.”

It looked fine, but Steve wanted to repay your favor, so he pulled a band-aid from the near empty box and put it on your wound.

“We match,” he said.

You laughed. “We’re even now.”

He felt overwhelmed with melancholy. He needed to rest, he wanted to close his eyes and not open them for weeks.

“I should go check on Robin,” he said as he walked backwards toward the stairs. He kept his eyes to the ground, away from the look on your face. “She’ll flip if she wakes up and she’s alone.”

You said nothing.

…

The following days and weeks were a lot of checking on Robin, and Robin checking on him. Too much waking up in the middle of the night and keeping his eyes glued to his bedroom door just in case. Only feeling safe enough if he had a baseball bat hugged to his chest and Robin snoring next to him.

So - he wasn’t doing well, but it was fine. He tried not to complain about it. Robin was the only person he let himself be half honest with - but he kept the truth to himself, because she’d get anxious if he said what he really felt.

Steve was scared. And he didn’t want anyone else to know it, because all of the others acted as if their lives were perfectly back to normal. They were doing well. So he had to be doing well, too. For their sake.

Weeks after that awful night at the mall, he and Robin conned their way into getting jobs at Family Video. He was grateful, because god, he was too codependent on her.

It was a random night at his place when Robin brought you up out of nowhere.

“I just realized, I never thanked your neighbor for saving us that night.”

“You don’t need to. I’m sure she knows you’re thankful.”

“Yeah, but, I feel like I should pay her back.”

Steve shrugged at her words. He didn’t want to think about you more than he had to - it hurt just a little bit too much.

“Should I give her a gift?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “She likes cookies. Get her cookies.”

And Steve didn’t know it, but the next day, Robin rang your doorbell with a plastic box of cookies in her hands. You opened the door and she started rambling from the get.

“Hey - Steve said you like cookies, so, I decided I’d bring you some to thank you. For showing up at Starcourt in the middle of the night and practically saving our lives. And for letting us sleep on your floor. That was really nice of you.”

You didn’t know what to say. Robin seemed weird. You just went along with it.

“Oh - thanks. That’s cool. Thanks.”

She shoved them toward you, and you took them.

“Do you want to come in?” you asked.

Instead of answering, she just stepped through the door. You brought her to the kitchen.

“I hope they’re good. I just got them at the corner store. But all cookies are the same, right?”

“Well - no, but, it’s the thought that counts.”

“Oh.”

The gifted cookies didn’t look much better than the worst recipes you’d made, but you opened the crude packaging and gave them a chance.

They were fine. Maybe a little worse than fine. You gave Robin one, anyway.

“They’re good!” she said, with a mouth full.

“They are,” you lied. “They’re not homemade, but they’ll do. Thanks, Robin.”

You ate half of your cookie. Robin finished hers. It was quiet.

You figured you might as well try to get to know this girl a bit better. At least be polite and make small talk, just to be nice.

So you asked an easy question. “How long have you and Steve been together?”

But it wasn’t as simple as you thought, because she started coughing up the cookie. “What do you mean?”

“...What?”

“We’re not together,” she said with a heavy dose of sass. “God, I’ll never get over people asking me that. I am not dating Steve Harrington. Gross.”

“Oh - sorry, I just thought -”

“It’s fine,” she said. “Everyone always asks. I guess a guy and a girl can’t be friends without everyone making assumptions.”

You laughed. “Yeah. People used to do the same thing to us. Sorry, I didn’t mean to ask a weird question.”

“It’s alright. Actually, I’m supposed to be at his place in, like - well, ten minutes ago. You should come over if you're free.”

“Uh - I don’t know, me and Steve - we don’t really hang out anymore.”

You aren’t sure why you didn’t just make up an excuse. Something about Robin made you feel okay about being honest.

“It’s cool. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you. It’s kind of been just us since what happened with - the fire. The fire that happened. So - you know. It’d be nice to have someone else around. If you want.”

You were curious how this would turn out. So, “sure. I’ll come.”

“Great. You should bring a cookie for Steve.”

You brought the whole box, and decided you would accidentally forget them at his place so they wouldn’t go to waste.

Steve’s front door was yanked open from the inside before Robin could let herself in, and his wide eyes became a little less wide when he saw her.

“Where the fuck were you - you were supposed to be here half an hour ago, I thought you got fucking eaten or something.”

“Relax. I was just making a cookie delivery next door. Chill.”

Robin threw her thumb over her shoulder. You poked your head out from behind her and gave Steve a weak wave.

“Oh.”

“What exactly would she get eaten by?”

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. You noticed he was gripping his car keys in a tight, scarred fist.

“Monsters,” Robin joked. Steve didn’t laugh. You did a little bit. “I invited her over. Is that alright?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

You stuck to Robin all the way to his living room, because that was easier than making yourself comfortable. You hadn’t been in this house in ages, and you weren’t sure what to do with yourself.

“Where’s my crossword?”

“I finished it.”

“Asshole. You know I hate that. Just get your own.”

“Whatever, you suck at them, anyway.”

Robin, unlike you, had no reservations in the Harrington house. She kicked her feet up and started channel surfing as soon as she sat on the couch.

“Have a cookie,” Robin said to Steve. You reached the box out to him; he sat down next to you to take one, taking up the spot between you and Robin.

It was weird being so close to him again. His knee was touching yours, and it made your skin feel too hot. Still, you didn’t move away.

“These are shit,” he said with a full mouth.

“Hey!”

You laughed loud, because you completely agreed.

“No, seriously, these are awful.”

“I spent five dollars on those!”

You gasped. “Five? Robin.”

“You should have just given her the money instead. Or thrown it in the trash.” Steve dropped his half eaten cookie back in the box. You put the plastic lid back on and sat it on the coffee table.

“I thought they were good. You’re being so rude right now. They were a gift.”

Steve looked at you. “You didn’t tell her how bad they are?”

“I didn’t - I don’t think they’re that bad.”

“You’re lying,” Steve laughed, then he turned to Robin. “She’s lying.”

“I’m not lying!”

“I know you, and I know you’re lying.”

“It’s fine, guys, you don’t have to spare my feelings or anything.”

You sighed, defeated. “...They are pretty terrible.”

Robin scoffed loud and obnoxious.

“Whatever. I’ll enjoy them.”

…

As it turns out, Robin acted like glue between you and Steve. Neither of you would have ever made an effort to see each other again, out of embarrassment or guilt or both, but Robin didn’t have to unpack any of that baggage. She didn’t even know it existed.

Instead, she immediately saw you as a friend. And she brought you in like she had known you forever.

But Robin and Steve were a package deal. So, if you were a friend to her, you had to be a friend to him, too.

And the two of them were weird. Most of the time, they left you feeling like a third wheel on their friendship.

They could be mean to each other. Rough. They acted the exact way you knew siblings do, but that was only surface level. There was something deeper - more than anything a brother and sister had, because it wasn’t the blood in their veins that connected them. It was the roots they chose to grow into each other that kept them together.

Robin spent the night with Steve more often than she didn’t. And she bullied him for his bad cooking, and he told her when an outfit was ugly, and they stood next to each other like two puzzle pieces that didn’t match but fit together with a hard press.

Sometimes you sat on the sidelines and ached, mourning a friendship that had been buried some odd years ago. It was well beyond rotten - something decayed and unrecognizable now. Even if you dug it up, it couldn’t be the same as it was.

But you wished.

And as you sat and listened to Robin chastise Steve for saying something dumb - watched as he meddled her hair into a purposeful mess, you could only laugh and sink into yourself. You were happy and sad; you cherished your time together and dreaded it, all at the same time.

Above it all, Steve was different. Distant in the way he would never meet your eyes, or laugh too loud at your jokes, or sit too close for too long.

It all felt fleeting. Like that week you spent angry at him - stuck in a weird limbo, between friends and strangers, a frustrating purgatory. Some kind of Schrodinger’s Cat of a friendship - alive and dead at the same time.

You would have just said something, if it felt like you could. But if Steve minded, he didn’t show it. If he missed how things were, he didn’t act like it. And, as you knew him, if he wanted to he would.

And it wasn’t totally bad. It was just new. You’d get used to it with a spoonful of sugar and a hard swallow.

On a random day, you had mentioned off-hand that you had been meaning to visit your aunt’s apartment to drop off and pick up a few things. Steve offered to take you, and you agreed, and the next day, you made good on your plans.

The two of you didn’t hang out without Robin very often. Since early August, the number was hardly a handful. But with the radio turned on, it wasn’t too awkward.

Steve had visited your aunt with you several times growing up. He went to her house-warming party when she moved into her apartment. You were thirteen, and you made a game of pressing every button in the elevator before getting off it. Now, every time you’re there, you think about how you used to chase him down the halls.

Her place was the nicest there was in Hawkins, in the tallest residential building in town. Parking was a nightmare, but Steve kept his complaints under his breath, and he even carried your bag for you.

The elevator was the only thing in the apartment’s lobby. As you pressed the button, Steve spoke up.

“You wanna take the stairs instead?”

“Why?”

He shrugged. You laughed.

“You want to climb eight flights of stairs? No thanks.”

“I’m an athlete,” he mumbled under his breath, sheepish. “This thing is taking forever, anyways.”

It dinged as it finally started moving down toward the bottom floor.

“It’s on its way.”

He stepped back, looked around, and he must have spotted the stairwell. “I’ll race you,” and then he took off.

The elevator door opened as the stairway’s door closed, and you rode to the top floor alone.

He didn’t win the race - far from it, and you laughed as he tried to hide his struggling breathing.

“Been waiting for you all day, athlete. Thought you’d take ‘til Christmas.”

“Psh. Whatever. I’ll win on the way down.”

The elevator creaked and hummed as it started moving down, and Steve glared at it.

You laughed, “You’re weird,” and you left him behind to walk down the hall.

He worked fast to catch up, and called out, “The loser pays for dinner!”

“You know I’d never pass up that bet.”

Your aunt wasn’t home - she rarely was. But a key was under the mat, and as you walked inside her tuxedo cat, Webster, greeted you at the door.

“Hey, dude,” Steve said, kneeling down to pet him.

An old cardboard box sat on the dining table nearby, “Glassware” written on the side in crude permanent marker. It’s what you had been instructed to pick up and take back home - you weren’t sure what was inside.

You sat down and opened it and pulled out the first thing you saw: a white paper bag, one you knew printed photos came in.

“This what you came for?”

Steve stood next to you. He had Webster in his arms, who was purring loud and melting into his hand.

“Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. Family stuff, I’m guessing.” You pulled out a fat stack of pictures and the one on top made you bark a laugh. “Oh my god.”

You and Steve, seven years old, wearing matching cowboy costumes for Halloween - you with a white cowboy hat, him with a black one. You stood with a jack-o-lantern between you. You had your hands on your hips and a frown on your face; Steve had his chin pushed out in a wicked scowl.

You turned it to him, and he laughed just as loud as you. “Look at those two mean mugs!”

“Do you remember this?”

He sat in the chair next to you, continuing to look at the photo over your shoulder. Webster made himself comfortable in his lap.

“Yeah,” he laughed, “We fought all night because you stole my -”

“Oh my god.”

“You stole my full size Snickers.”

“I did not!”

“You did.”

“I didn’t!”

The way he looked at you told you this was still a sore subject.

“You went ahead of me to the Smith’s place while I was trying to tie my shoe and you took her last bar. That’s what happened!”

“That’s not stealing!”

“It is!”

“I didn’t mean to leave you behind! It’s not my fault you didn’t know how to tie your shoes!”

“You didn’t, either. And, I learned before you.”

You puffed a sigh and flipped the photo to the back of the stack. “Why are you still fighting over this? We shared all the candy, anyway.”

“It’s the principle. Theft is a crime, and you never apologized.”

You only laughed. No way were you giving him that apology now.

When you pulled the photos out of the box, you didn’t intend on looking through them all, but your curiosity kept you flicking through them. Most were of random family members or photos of the beach, but pictures of you and Steve were littered throughout the stack. There wasn’t a single photo of you that didn’t have him in it, too.

There were from some first days of school, birthday parties, sleepovers. They were sorted somewhat chronologically - looking through them was pure nostalgia, memories hitting you at every angle as you watched yourself grow up.

The next one to catch your eye was from a middle school dance. Neither of you wanted to attend, but your mother insisted. Your one condition was that you could wear whatever you wanted.

So you and Steve had swapped styles. You wore his way oversized Atlanta Flames jersey, a baseball cap, and sneakers that didn’t fit; he had on your purple sweater, a big pearl necklace, and white jeans.

It was cute, and it was goofy, and you wished you could jump into the picture and relive it.

At that age, the only thing you knew was that you and Steve would live forever, together. Now that you know what you know, your heart ached for the little girl in these pictures. What would she think about the space between you two now?

There were pictures from summer camp, swimming pools, and your first day of high school.

Webster meowed. Steve meowed back at him.

As you got to the bottom of the stack, pictures of the two of you were less and less. The last one - the one you didn’t know would be your last picture with him - was of you, him, and a few of your extended family members. A day spent at the lake that Steve really didn’t want to go to, for some reason only an angsty teenage boy could understand, that you dragged him to. It was the summer before your junior year.

In the photo, his arm was draped completely over your shoulder. You remembered him leaning all of his weight on you - to the point that you fell out of your seat after the picture was taken by your aunt.

And you had fun, like you always did. Steve became a member of your family out of happenstance. It was just because he was always around, really. They all saw him as much as they saw you.

You put that photo to the back of the stack and kept carding through them. You didn’t find any more pictures of you and Steve.

The rest were all more recent. Steve stopped you on one that was of you alone - sat at a dinner table, wearing a cable knit sweater.

“That’s a good one,” he said.

“Yeah. It’s from Christmas. Senior year, maybe.”

You acted like you weren’t sure, but you knew exactly when that photo was taken. You just didn’t want him to know how sad you were in it.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” and you laughed, “this was not a fun party.” He didn’t reply, and so you kept talking, sparing him a shy glance. “Everyone kept asking where you were.”

The silence was heavier this time.

“Oh,” he said, trying to bury it. “Yeah.” An awkward chuckle. “I bet that was annoying.”

You laughed and tried to make it sound real - tried to seem like you didn’t care. “Yeah, well, you know how my family always liked you better.”

He shrugged, looking like he was going to make a joke, but he didn’t. His eyes were distant as they moved down to his lap.

You shoved the picture to the back with the rest.

The one behind it was just as lonely.

Still, Steve perked up at it. “Is that from graduation?”

You wore a cap and gown, you held a bouquet of flowers, and you stood all alone.

“Yeah.”

Steve’s hand wrapped around yours holding the picture, and he tilted it toward him so he could get a better look.

“My aunt kept trying to get me to find you for a picture,” you laughed.

“You should’ve.” He smiled something big and real, and you realized with a rush that this is the closest you’d been to him in a while. If you kept looking, you could count the freckles on his cheek. His thumb pressed into the back of your hand. “I remember seeing you. You looked real cute.”

You ignored his compliment to say something snide. “I ignored you so hard.”

Another laugh, “Really?”

“Obviously.”

“Yeah. That’s fair - I would’ve, too.”

You tried not to think about how badly you wished he was standing next to you in the picture.

Steve spoke up, “I -” but you cut him off by accident.

“It’s fine.”

You didn’t mean it. He could tell.

“...Is it?”

It was honest when you replied, “I don’t know.”

He was still holding your hand.

“I never told you I’m sorry.”

“I guess I just figured you were.”

You dropped the pictures on the table, dropping his hand with them.

“Is that good enough?” It was an honest question.

“I don’t know. Maybe it is.”

And your answer was genuine, because you didn’t know. Steve had come back into your life just as easily as he left it - on a whim, without any warning. You didn’t put any roadblocks in his way.

But you stared at the photos spread out in front of you. At the story they told of your friendship that would always be unfinished.

You had to teach yourself how to do life without him. All of those lessons seemed useless, now, because here he was. And you didn’t even know if he ever missed you.

You pulled away from him, a move that was far more snappy than you meant. You did it like he’d reached out and burned you. It had Webster jumping down to the floor.

“It’s fine,” you repeated.

“I think you’re lying just to make me feel better.”

“I don’t know why I’m lying.”

“We don’t have to talk about it now,” he mumbled, and you stood up. The chair scraped the floor in a way that grated your ears. You turned your back to him.

“I thought I knew you.” Your eyes welled up, your nose started to run. You balled your hands up like you were on defense. “I thought you would say sorry, and make everything go back to normal like you always did. But you didn’t. I thought you would miss me, at least, but - but you didn’t.”

“You think I didn’t miss you?”

The shake in his voice had your fist dropping to hit your thighs, defeated.

“I miss you more than anything. I’m sorry - I’m not just saying it to make you feel better, or because I have to, I - I don’t even deserve to be saying it.” He paused, and you could imagine the way he was running his hands through his hair and pacing around with nerves. “I’m sorry for being a bad friend. For not treating you like you deserved - I hate myself for it. You were the best thing in my life, and I know that now. I was just too scared to come crawling back to you because I wasn’t worth your time.”

You breathed in deep, exhaled hard, and it felt like the first breath you had taken in two years. It was that feeling when you’ve forgotten your keys but find the door unlocked - the relief of being let in despite a mistake, it rushed through you, and it had you turning to look at him. You found him standing and staring at you, through you, with glassy eyes you would always know.

“I just miss you, Steve.”

Three steps and then he was around you. And you were safer than a child hiding under their blanket from whatever lurked in their closet - monsters weren’t real if his arms were around you. That had always, always been true.

Webster rubbed up against your leg, then Steve’s. The hug shook with both of your laughter, and he held you tighter.

…

Things didn’t go back to how they used to be after that, but it was close enough. And you were trying to settle into the differences that kept knocking you off your feet.

It started with late night phone calls.

Before, you never talked on the phone. Why would you when his house was a stone throw away? If you wanted to talk, you’d invite yourself to his place.

But the two of you were still dancing on the ripped edges of that two year old fight. Wounds were still healing - almost there, but not quite. So it was easier to take it slow, to treat this time as something brand new.

And it was brand new.

You had caught yourself grinning ear to ear over stories he’d tell you, and you had to force the smile off your face. Like you shouldn’t be acting that way over your friend - you quickly realized you just couldn’t help it.

He’d keep you up too late and tease you for it the next day. And you weren’t sure if he was trying to get a rise out of you, but that’s how you felt. He acted so smug after seeing your cheeks swell in embarrassment.

So it wasn’t going back to how it was before. In fact, it was going down an entirely different road - one that wasn’t even on the map.

You weren’t complaining, because you felt things you hadn't felt before around him. He made you feel warm, and you were addicted to it. You were addicted to him, and you had blind hope that the feeling was mutual.

He’d spend his entire lunch break visiting you, even if your breaks didn’t line up. He’d follow you around the apparel section at Roses and you’d have all your attention on him, just the way he liked it. He made sure to see you every day.

You never thought he’d make you feel so shy, but it was an emotion you couldn’t get enough of. You hardly realized what you were spiraling into until you’d catch him looking at you with a blush on his cheeks, or until you had to stop yourself from thinking about him every night before bed.

But there was something glaring, something major, something you couldn’t look at directly until it came up in conversation with Robin.

Robin and Steve always had Sundays off, so the day was designated to be stolen by their other friends - who were all in junior high.

When you asked why they were friends with junior high kids, Steve called himself their babysitter. Robin said she was their good influence. You avoided asking follow up questions.

It was a lazy autumn day, one where the warmth of fallen leaves reflected in the air - something rare for early November.

The youngest of the kids, Erica, loved putting on a nice outfit and going for a walk. Today it was yellow Chucks, a red silk and pleated maxi skirt, and a long sleeve button up with a rainbow of vertical stripes. (It would have been a tie dyed short sleeve, if Steve hadn’t told her it was too chilly for it.) She had stuck gems beside her eyes, the kind that come in the plastic packets and don’t stay on for long, and Robin packed yellow eyeshadow on her eyelids.

She was downright cute, but if you told the eleven year old that she’d aim her sass at you and shoot to kill. She much preferred receiving a refined compliment, because, “I hear that all the time.”

Today, you told her you loved the way she paired so many colors together. She grinned something beautiful and kicked her foot up behind her and agreed with you.

Steve had once described her as a menace - you didn’t understand why.

You walked with Robin a few feet behind Erica, Dustin, and Steve. Dustin had not stopped talking the whole time, except when Erica butted in. Steve had stolen the younger boy’s thinking cap hat and was wearing it backwards.

“The last time I wore this coat, I found two phone numbers in the pocket.” Robin held up two fingers and gestured to the Letterman jacket she wore. It was Steve’s. “Can you believe that? I mean, what a douche. I wouldn’t even wear this if it wasn’t so warm.”

You laughed. “Yeah, I believe it, actually. They were probably from some cheerleaders or something.”

“Yeah, well, he can’t get any numbers these days. He’s cursed to be forever lame as punishment for the jerk he was in high school.” Robin was smirking wicked and wide, like it was satisfying for her.

“He’s lost all his charm?”

“All of it. I mean, one hundred percent. I used to keep count of how many times he fell on his face in front of girls. It’s magnificent, truly.” Then, quieter, “He’ll get it back, though. One day.”

“He used to have no trouble at all.” The conversation had the gears in your head turning; it had you speaking without thinking. “I don’t know. He’s really different now.”

Robin laughed, like you were joking. “Yeah, he learned manners, for one.”

“It’s not that.�� You were thinking out loud. “He’s nicer, yeah, but… it’s almost like he’s not even the same person. I’m not sure what happened.”

The Steve you knew was boisterous. He was unapologetic. He was stupidly confident, the life of the party, and he wasn’t afraid of anything. A wouldn’t take no for an answer, go with the flow, drop of the hat kind of person.

You were lucky to know him when that’s all he was. Before the halls of Hawkins High swallowed him and spit out someone ornery who cared too much but not at all.

You thought it was just Tommy and Carol’s influence. Now that he wasn’t their friend anymore, you thought he’d become who he used to be.

“He told me how close you two were before,” Robin said. She was tugging on a strand of hair that was stuck in her lip gloss. “I guess I never knew him like you did.”

“He’s so quiet now. He used to be so loud.” You meant it more than literally - you hoped Robin would understand. “I don’t know. So much changed and it’s only been a couple years.”

It seemed like she was struggling to reply, because it took her more than a few seconds to get her words out.

“I guess - I mean - I think you’ve probably changed a lot, too. Two years is a long time, right?”

Robin knew. No one could tell, but she knew.

Maybe the differences that you had described of Steve were really there. She wasn’t able to see them the way you could, but she didn’t care. It was selfish to admit that she would never change a thing about him - but one.

He was waiting.

Everyone was, she thinks.

Waiting for another fight.

It wasn’t easy to go back to normal after trudging through hell. It was like coming out the other side of trench warfare unharmed - you didn’t. When a gun fires, its bullets hit. If a bomb is dropped it doesn’t miss a fucking thing, and Starcourt Mall was goddamn ground zero.

And Robin wasn’t there for the disappearance of Will Byers. The death of Barbra Holland. The Upside Down. The Demogorgon. The Demodogs, and the lab, and the girl with psychic powers. She wasn’t there, but Steve was.

Her head hurt just thinking of the stories he’s told her. And she knew his did, too, more often than he’d admit to her.

And she felt bad when her sleeping patterns went back to normal but his didn’t. When she got used to being on edge all the time, Steve still jumped at any noise. His phone would ring and she would watch him prepare himself to answer it - to hear Dustin’s voice on the line telling him that it’s back.

So when you said that Steve’s changed, Robin didn’t know what to tell you. You were right, and she knew that, but she couldn’t tell you why. You knew everything about him besides, well - everything.

Robin wished she didn’t have to know, either. She wanted to tell you that you should be grateful you couldn’t see the shackles on his ankles. You got to know him before - and Robin would give anything for that.

But she couldn’t change a thing.

Instead, all she could do was wait.

And lie.

And pretend.

“He’s still loud,” she said, uncomfortable as all get out.

As if he heard her words, Steve busted out in a stomach hurting kind of laughter at one of Dustin’s stories.

“See what I mean?”

Your destination was in sight now. Steve turned around - letting Dustin steal his hat back - walking backwards, and reached a hand out to you.

“You coming?”

Your pace turned into a skipping sort of jog to catch up with him. When you were close enough he grabbed your hand and didn’t let go. He’d been doing that often.

The kids and Robin broke away, heading for the tiny park that was up on your right. To your left, Steve tugged you to a tiny convenience store.

“Place your orders!” he called.

Dustin and Erica shouted at the same time. Steve mumbled something about not being able to understand them, so you relayed their messages.

“You’re getting two things! No more than that!” he shouted back. “Robin?”

“7-Up.”

“What else?”

“Surprise me!”

You hung onto his arm as you walked into the store, and you weren’t even sure why. He never pulled away when you got that close, so you kept going back.

You went for the drink coolers first. He reached for the apple juice.

“She likes orange juice the best, now,” you said.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“You better be right - if she’s mad at me over this, I’ll be mad at you.”

You rounded up all the snacks everyone wanted, following Steve’s only two items rule. You laughed when he chose plain potato chips as Robin’s surprise - the blandest possible choice. And while he checked out at the counter, you wandered off into the aisles.

He acted like he didn’t want you to go, pulling you back and asking a quiet, “where’re you going?”

“To look around.”

It was straight to the candy aisle for a Blow Pop for Erica, Pop Rocks for Dustin, and sour gummy worms to share. You liked spoiling them - it helped to get on their good side.

You made a stop at the candy bars to grab a Snickers bar before going back to the counter, and Steve immediately shook his head when he saw you.

“What are you doing? What’s all that?”

“It’s all for me.” You dropped it all for the clerk to scan.

“All of it?”

“Yeah.”

“Even though you said you didn’t want anything?”

“I changed my mind!”

He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, and you watched his hand move to his back pocket.

“Don’t you dare.”

His wallet was half way out of his pocket as he laughed. “What?”

“You’re not paying. Stop.” You tried to sound mad, and felt you were doing a good job, but he kept giggling at you.

“Oh, are you my boss now?”

“Yes, Steve,” and you bumped into him, trying to push him away. “Don’t make me say your full name.”

“Just let me -”

“Take their things to them! Go!”

You were shocked when he listened, but he only made it as far as the door. He stood against the glass with his arms crossed, staring at you until you finally followed him.

“What are you looking at?”

He pushed his back into the door to open it. “Trying to figure it out.” He reached for your hand, and you swatted it away, only for him to catch you, anyway. And you let him hold your hand, all the way across the street to the park.

Your friends sat at a picnic table waiting patiently. It was actually two tables pushed together, doubling the normal length; Erica and Dustin sat opposite each other on one end, and Robin sat in the middle, crisscrossed on top of the table.

Steve divvied snacks to grabby hands, and you snuck their surprise treats in to the sound of thank yous.

You took your seat on the other end of the table across from Steve. When you sat down, he put a bottle of Coke between you.

“Are you going to share?” you asked.

“Only if you’ve got something to give me in return.”

The Snickers bar made a thud on the wooden table. Steve hummed. “I guess that’s good enough.”

You were almost happy with the trade until you realized, “No bottle opener?”

His eyes doubled their size. “Shit.” Then, he grabbed the bottle. “No, it's a twist off.” The noise he made as he tried taking off the cap was something like a squeak, and everyone at the table laughed.

“Just walk back to the store!”

“Dustin - Dustin! Do you -”

The boy slid a large key ring down the table. It was a wad of keys, keychains, and gadgets.

“It’s on there somewhere.”

There was a mini flashlight, a laser pointer, a plastic Q*bert charm, a pocket knife, keys and keys and keys, a kubaton, and, “Yes!” a bottle opener.

“This is why I keep you around, Henderson.”

“I’m the one keeping you guys around, first of all.”

You grabbed the Coke and guzzled a couple drinks worth in one go, and when you put it back down, Steve had already eaten half the candy bar in one bite.

“Steve!”

His mouth was full when he said, “What?”

“Why can’t you share? Why didn’t anyone ever teach you about sharing?” His laugh was sweeter than the chocolate he was shoving into your face. “Stop, I don’t wanna eat after you.”

“We’ve got the same germs,” he said, and he was feeding you the Snickers before you could make another argument.

The snacks were all gone much quicker than it took to walk and get them, because none of you would ever learn to savor the destination. Regardless, next Sunday, you’d all be sitting in the same spot - give or take a few others, creating a good day for yourselves.

And, if you were lucky, Steve would be holding your hand the whole time.

...

It didn’t matter who you were cheering for on the court, you hated high school basketball games.

Going to Lucas’s game brought back far too many memories than you’d care to recollect. But even though you hated it, you were still filled with pride watching the boy play the game so well.

And Steve hadn’t shut up about it all night. He spoke about Lucas shooting the buzzer beating winning basket like he was recounting a grand story - something from a movie or a comic book. Like you weren’t sitting beside him the entire time.

You stood with him in his kitchen, and the excitement had finally started to settle. You and Steve had spent far too long talking about how weird it was to be back in the high school gym, and both of you agreed that you didn’t miss it at all.

“Is Robin excited for spring break?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “She said she’s spending the entire week here so she can be as lazy as she wants, so - I guess she is.”

You threw a weak fist into his shoulder and he caught it. “What’s wrong with that?”

“She’s gonna steal all my time!” His grin was contagious as he slotted his fingers into yours. “And that means I can’t steal all of yours.”

“Does that mean I’m finally getting a break from you?” You laughed, but he didn’t.

It was weird, the way his entire demeanor changed in a snap. Before you could even take back the joke you made he was shifting his eyes and dropping his grin.

He had always worn his heart on his sleeve, even if he tried hiding it.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” It was a hand through his hair that said the opposite, but you’d never call out his tells. “I just - that reminded me there was actually something I wanted to talk to you about.” He dropped your hand to cross his arms, and it had you feeling nervous.

“What about? …Did I do something wrong?”

“No, honey.” You weren’t sure when that nickname came around, or when it started to stick, but it had a fairy fluttering its wings in your chest. He started to reach for you again, you could see it, but he stopped himself. “You could never do anything wrong.”

You laughed quiet. “Neither could you.”

You moved to stand next to him, mirroring the way his back leaned against the counter. Your arm pressed to his. He was looking at the floor; you were looking at him.

“Are you sure?” It started as a whisper but jumped into a shake, a crack in his voice that said more than he wanted to. And he looked at you, to see if you caught it, and you swore his eyes were shining. He didn’t show them to you for longer than a moment.

“Steve?”

“I just - I don’t want to fuck this up again.”

“How would that even happen?”

He looked at you like he knew something you didn’t. “I don’t know.”

You nudged his arm with your elbow, again and again, until his crossed arms dropped. Your pointer finger snaked around his, and the touch brought enough bravery out of him to link his fingers with yours.

“What do you know?”

He scoffed into a smile, one big enough to reach his eyes, and it brought him out of his funk. “I don’t know,” he said, moving closer to you as he made the joke.

“That’s what I thought,” you replied. “Not a thought going on in your head.”

Making him laugh was the key to his heart - you knew that, and it worked this time as well as it always had.

He had his head turned, cheek to shoulder, staring down at you; you were so close, you could watch his eyes move across your face and know where he was looking. They wandered, but when his gaze lingered on your lips - you noticed.

“I know one thing for sure,” he said.

When you took a loud breath, you’re sure he heard. He gave you eye contact again, and maybe you were seeing things, but you swore you saw question marks swimming in the green.

He didn’t breathe. You didn’t blink. You moved forward just a hair, and he looked back down, so you pressed on. You wanted to be closer, as close as you could get - it was curiosity or desperation, you didn’t know.

When he tilted his chin toward you, it was hardly noticeable. But you saw it, and it was enough. Your nose was just about to touch his - you watched his eyes close, right before yours did. There was nothing to do but move closer, closer, closer.

And then, when you felt just the softest graze of his skin on yours -

BAM! BAM! BAM!

You jumped back from each other like same-side magnets, gasping and jumping at the sound of loud knocks on the front door.

He moved fast, like he was looking for a way out, leaving you alone in the kitchen. “Shit.”

Steve had a good idea of who he’d see when he opened the door. The knob was jingling when he unlocked it, then pulled it open.

Sure enough, Robin. Wearing a flannel that was his, with wild bedhead that he couldn’t help laughing at.

“Did you walk here?”

“Yeah,” she croaked. “Let me in.”

It was written all over her face why she was there, and Steve felt bad.

Even though she asked to come in, she didn’t move. Her features were all scrunched up, her shoulders were hunched into her crossed arms.

“Robin -”

“I fucking hate this.” Loud, echoing into the night and through his door. “I hate it, Steve, and I swear - I swear it’s not over.” Her eyes wet her cheeks; she looked at him through tears. “It’s going to happen again. I can feel it. And I’m scared.”

He had to pull her inside, because he knew she’d stand in the same spot all night if he didn’t. She pushed into him, shoving her face into his shoulder, wiping her tears on his shirt.

“You just need to rest,” he told her.

She spoke something pitiful, not caring that her words were muffled. “The gate’s really closed, right? For sure?”

“It’s over, Robin, it was just a nightmare - you just need some good sleep, alright?”

She nodded, wiped her runny nose into her sleeve, and tried pulling her tears back in.

“I wish I could sleep anywhere else.”

“I know.” It wasn’t any sort of jab - it was just the truth. The only time she was truly afraid was when she slept alone.

She hit a fist into his chest, something playful that made things feel a little more okay, and then took herself to the stairs.

“I’ll be up in a minute to stand guard,” he joked. She barely laughed but it was enough, and he watched her until he couldn’t see her anymore.

And he hoped you hadn’t heard anything, because he wouldn’t be able to answer any questions you had. When he found you in the kitchen you looked nothing but concerned.

“Is she okay?”

All you knew was that she had nightmares about the mall fire. It was a realistic excuse, in comparison to the unbelievable truth.

“Yeah. You know how she is.”

You nodded. Steve wasn’t sure how to go back to the talk you were having before, so he avoided it.

You spoke first. “I hope she’s alright.”

“I should probably go be with her,” he said.

You were perfectly okay with it, understanding as always. “Yeah. She needs you.”

He walked you to the door, and it was too brief for his taste. But when you were there, he spoke up.

“I’m sorry. Can we finish this tomorrow, maybe? I promise - I… I really did want to talk.”

“Of course,” you said, and it was shy. “Don’t be sorry, Steve, she’s more important right now. We can talk any time.”

His arms wrapped around your shoulders for a crushing hug. “I’ll call you in the morning, okay? Before work. We can make plans then.”

And that was it - he watched you make your walk home until you walked into your front door, and that was it.

The moment was ruined, and he might not be able to make it happen again.

…

Steve didn’t call you the next morning.

part two!!!!

#my writing #perhaps the only steve fic i will ever write #if there are typos in this i. lmao i will rage #this took forever this is so fucking long if no one reads it i dont blame truly #anyway #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #fluff #angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

359 notes · View notes

pepperpixel · 1 year ago

Text

“Can't remember when we walked past the O.R. sign!

(sur-ger-y!)

Can't remember passing out with her hand in mine!

(my-my-mind!!!!)

I remember waking up with my mind repaired.

(A-OK! ^^)

I remember when I realized, she wasn't there...”

Amnesia was her name….. is. so. horrifically. sadly fitting for these two in literally every single line. And I’m gonna NEED ALL OF U GUYS TO GO LISTEN TO IT NOW OK… THIS ISNT A DRILL GO GO GO GO!!!

Anyway… uhh. the fact Betty “blessed” this guy to like. An eternally long lifespan w THIS FUCKED UP OF A MENTAL STATE IS SO SCREWED UP GHGH- Like poor Simon god damn…! u kno he’d rather just keep on not sorting out his baggage and trauma forever too cuz it’d be too complicated… too much… force him to admit things about himself and about BETTY that he really really doesn’t want to… better to just leave it all unexamined.. pack it all into lil boxes so he can just try to ignore it and pretend it doesn’t exist… HE GOTTA LIVE FOREVER W IT THO… *ME BANGING ON SIMONS DOOR AT 3 IN THE MORNING*: “SIMON U GOTTA ACCEPT URSELF!!!! LOVE URSELF!!!! ACKNOWLEDGE N ACCEPT EVEN THE “BAD” PARTS OF URSELF!!!! SIMON PLEASE!!!!! SIMON EVEN PPL WHO LOVE YOU AND WHO YOU LOVE CAN HURT YOU!!!! ACKNOWLEDGE IT!!! ACKNOWLEDGE THE HURT AND ACKNOWLEDGE UR FEELINGS!!!! AND URSELF!!!!! SIMON!!!!” anyway… gGHGH YEA, SRRY. SIMON PETRIKOVS MENTAL ILLNESSES MAKE ME FEEL LIKE IM GONNA EXPLODE. ANYWAY HAVE SOME ART. W a bunch of diff versions cuz I’m indecisive!

#adventure time #simon petrikov #betty grof #petrigrof #doodles #lol at tagging this petrigroff but nah I stand by it man!!!!#being a petrigroff shipper is understanding that I’m actually canon these two need som fuckin COUPLES COUNSELING. OR TO JUST BREAKUP.#like….. gGHG I LOVE BETTY BUT ALSO. ALSO… also…. these 2 have some issues… seperate and together issues. lmao #ANYWAY THO. ANYWAY THO. IM SO FUCKING EXCITED. I SAW THE NEW TRAILER. IM GONNA DIE. MY WIFE I GOT TO SEE MY WIFE #AND WERE ACTUSLLY GONNA GET SIMON MENTAL STATE SHIT YEAHHHHH!!!!#HELL FUCKING YEAH!!!!!!!!!#FIONNA AND CAKE DO NOT LET THIS NERD KEEP RUNNING AWAY FROM HIS FEELINGS FUCKING GET HIS ASS!!! MAKE HIM FACE IT AND WORK THRU IT!!!#pls!!!! if even Simon Petrikovs can start working thru his mental traumas there might be hope for all of us ghghg #uh but anyway yeah. AMBESIA IS HER NAME IS SO THEM.. STRAIGHT UP I FELT THE URGE TO EVEN LIKE. make an animatic for it!! it was so fitting!#im not gonna make an animatic cuz I don’t feel like it but!!! I saw it… I saw the animatic in my brain ghghg-#there’s a lot of typos in these tags but. just do me a favor… and pretend like there aren’t lol #fionna and cake #am I…. possibly…. projecting more mental trauma and issues on Simon. then he ACTUALLY has…#probably. yes. but!!!! he def still DOES have issues. I feel like I’m probably exaggerating the Betty ones cuz he #never really outright expresses feeling hurt by her. but also I feel like!!!! he’s the sorta guy!!! WHO WOULDNT EXPRESS THAT!#cuz he loves her!!!!! sO MUCH!! and she did so much and pushed herself so far and was trying so hard… and also she’s fucking basically d #dead now!!!! it’d be like. disrespectful of her memory…. to feel that. also what’s even the point of expressing that pain she’s gone!!!!!#she did all of that.. for him… how could he…. just. spit in the face of that #im writing those last few tags in the he perspective of simons mind btw… the things he tells himself….#anyway gGHG MAYBE I AM PROBABLY PROJECTING MORE ISSUES ON HIM THEN HE ACTUALLY HAS BUT WHO CARES MAN #I’m allowed ghghgh-#I wanna draw art of Simon having a traumatic flashback to the ‘Dont worry ull be obliterated soon!’ line and hating himself for it #ice king isn’t him!!! it isn’t him! it’s not him!!! why does that hurt it shouldn’t hurt she wasn’t talking to HIM #BUT SHE WAS #SHE WAS… she didn’t think of the ice king as Simon but he IS… HE IS AND JUST. URGHGH

215 notes · View notes

momentomori24 · 5 months ago

Text

Keiji is a character that I'm pretty sure every one of us can recognize is an absolute weirdo (ok maybe some are too hard on copium for the "weirdo" part) and sketchy as hell, but thinking about everything he's done it really feels like he's so much shady and ruthless than we give him credit for. So here's me bulletpointing some the moments that I haven't seen too many talk about, a little theory throwing his status into question and addressing the massive elephant in the room that almost everyone refuses to acknowledge. If there's something else you feel I missed or wanted to evaluate on, do leave it in the comments.

[Also, disclaimer: I will be discussing Keiji and Sara in a romantic light near the end of this post, so if that makes you uncomfortable please proceed with caution or skip entirely. This should go without saying but for my own sake I will say it anyway-- No, I do not condone their relationship in real life. No, this is not meant to be "shippy" or endorsement of any kind. This will simply be pointing out their dynamic as another example to prove the whole point of this rant. But if someone else does ship them that's totally fine. Fiction doesn't equal reality and if you harass a real person over fictional characters you will not see the light of heaven. Be civil, please and thank you. My block button is rated E for Everyone and if anyone decides to ignore the warnings and be an asshole I won't hesitate to use it. Thanks for listening. Disclaimer over.]

*Being a murderer.

I feel like I should start with the most obvious and undeniable. I don't think this is debatable to anyone here. Mr. Policeman may have been an accident and kinda confirmed by Midori to have been set up, but he still shot and killed an unarmed man in a moment of panic and recklessness. Even putting that aside, there's no denying that he killed Megumi in cold blood to get out of his debt to her and covered it up to the group to preserve his credibility. Regardless of what you think of Megumi, he has no excuse here. Not only is he one more kill away from being a serial killer, he's the only participant in our group that has actually killed people directly aside from Alice. Another reason why I bring this up is cuz something that completely flew over my head is this:

At the start of the game he had the audacity to complain about not having a partner or someone he knows with him like Sara does as if he didn't literally let Megumi get ripped apart by chains probably not even an hour ago Keiji what the hell--

*Throwing Kanna under the bus repeatedly.

Despite positioning himself as a protector and someone to rely on, he's far from above putting their youngest members in danger. Next to voting for the fourteen year old girl to die, he had the great idea of letting said fourteen year old be the one to babysit their biggest liability. Up to the point where they would stay in the same room both day and night. While I absolutely 100% trust that Sou would never EVER do anything to her, Keiji had no guarantee of that when he send her off. Hell, he literally just got done accusing Sou of setting Joe up to die (which I don't believe almost solely based on the fact that he said it, more on that another time maybe). He knew Sou was bad news, and openly acknowledges how adults can be terrifying, but he did it anyway. The dubiety of throwing the already traumatised little girl to keep watch on what they thought to be the most dangerous adult that had manipulated her once before is not lost on me, and that he didn't take any responsibility for her afterwards isn't lost on me either. To be fair, the Sou and Kanna thing doesn't just fall on him, it falls on everybody (Alice gets a pass because he actually swapped out with Kanna to watch Sou for her), but he was the one with the final say on the matter and who encouraged her to take the role despite Reko's rightful protests. The fact that he also voted for her to die in the Main Game, and is the only adult to do so, doesn’t help his case.

*Attempting to frame Sou knowing Reko was actually responsible.

While you could argue he was trying to cover for her since he knew why she did what she did, trying to pin this act on Sou to cast more doubt on his is extremely shitty. Never mind the blatant corruption and the irony of a supposed man of the law abusing his power to knowingly frame an innocent person (in this situation at least), and him sowing more seeds of confusion and resentment within an already rattled group, and giving Sou legitimate reason to be suspicious of him (and by extension Sara)-- this makes it so difficult to trust him after realising he's done this. Literally every time he accuses someone of being or doing something suspicious (mostly Sou), I always have to think in the back of my head if he’s telling the truth or just telling a blatant lie. He's shown that he's willing to not only lie to cover for himself, but to lie to delegitimize someone else. And Sara never caught onto it (Sou and maybe even Nao likely did tho). She never openly acknowledged it-- No one did. The complete lack of mention of what he did here makes this action quite missable. Hell, I didn't even catch it the first time. Has he done this before? Who else has he lied about? Who else would he lie about? Who else would he knowingly pit against the group? You don't have to wait for that answer, because I will provide an example later. And with "later", I mean now.

*Casting suspicion on Gin before the vote while hiding the fact that he killed Megumi.

While it's not as blatant as with Kanna, there are two instances where Keiji shows a readiness to either put or leave Gin in harm's way. The biggest one for me is in the Main Game. Like, how dare you. That is a furry child, sir. This kid’s like TWELVE. Even though he makes a valid point about calling out suspicious actions to clear them up so we can all trust each other, casting doubt on Gin of all people right there feels pretty screwed to me. This was before the preliminary vote. His words could’ve very well gotten Gin voted for if he couldn’t disclose why he did what he did for whatever reason and therefore being unable to clear himself from suspicion. It’s even more fucked when you realise that Keiji has literally murdered his partner and is currently planning to get Sou killed while giving this whole spiel about doubting others so that we can believe them and pointing the finger at a little kid to make an example to the group. But when Nao, Sou and Sara call him out on his suspicious actions that could rightfully damage his credibility, he tries to shut them down completely. My brother in Christ, you brought it on FIRST (don’t get me wrong I’m very much aware he didn’t really mean the whole “trusting each other” bit but come on dude)--

Speaking about not meaning what he says:

*Letting the group think he’s Ok to vote for knowing he’s the Keymaster.

This kinda got to me because I thought this was Keiji actually being… vulnerable? Accepting the consequences of his actions and allowing them to vote for him in their distrust without protest even tho it could cost him his life, maybe. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I can’t remember a lot of times-- or any times, really-- where Keiji has willing put himself into the line of fire, at this point at least. He always finds a way to keep himself safe, give himself insurance, and I thought that this would be the one time he doesn’t do that. But this feels so ominous looking back knowing that he was the Keymaster the whole time. That our distrust and betrayal and his resignation to it all didn’t matter because he was going to be safe no matter what. That he knowingly allowed us to assume that he was a safe vote because he didn’t want his plan to kill Sou to be ruined, which narrowed down choice of people we can safely vote for even further. That this action is ultimately the reason why Sou and Kanna were our only options to kill off in the end. If he had admitted it there, we could’ve found someone else to vote for so our final options could consist of three people, not two. But he didn’t, and the rest is history. There’s a lot of things he’s done I can’t get over. This one ranks pretty high. The second Main Game is already a huge sore spot for me for obvious reasons; knowing that a lot of the things that happened were due to his inaction where it truly mattered and activity in all the wrong places doesn’t make me fee any better. He didn't say he was a safe vote-- he didn't lie-- but his words carefully omit that voting for him means a total party death, something he should've stated then (and before this, really).

*Leaving Sara with the sacrifice card.

Despite making a big show about “always being by her side” and being her “reliable policeman”, he chose to look away when she was in real danger. He attached himself to her as her right hand man, made her shoulder the responsibility of being the leader, constantly manipulated and flattered her to win her trust and gain her favour-- but when she needed him the most, he basically left her for dead because it was the most beneficial to him. Keep in mind that not only did he know about her getting the sacrifice (he was also the sage so he'd have seen the trade happen), but he had the tokens to help her get rid of it. But those tokens weren’t for her life. They were for his. He used them instead to give himself the Keymaster as insurance for the Main Game (the Keymaster he stole from Sou/Kanna most likely to buy Sara’s trust btw). His desperation for survival outweighed his sense of obligation to keep her safe, and that’s the most subtle yet transparent he’s been about his selfishness. What makes this so much worse is that Keiji is our support character. He’s an ally, and our closest one at that, to the point where Sara burned her hands in a futile attempt to rescue him and signed her life away to save his. And yet his loyalty and protectiveness pale in comparison to other characters. Compare his actions to Sou’s: one of their many parallels and similarities is that both their girls get hit with the sacrifice card. As we’ve established, Keiji was fully aware of Sara being send the sacrifice by Sou, had 50 tokens ready to go and chose to secure his own survival than save her life. Kanna ended up doing it instead, attempting to trade the card off Sara with Sou realising what happened immediately. And what does Sou do? Completely bend over backwards trying to keep her alive. He lied about being the Sacrifice so the others wouldn’t suspect Kanna of having that role, meaning he could try gathering vote for her without anyone seeing his true intentions. He tried to stop her about coming out with the truth of what she had done so she doesn’t sentence herself to death. After everything he did to survive-- after how much he lied, how much he schemed, how much he hurt, and how he had thrown himself away to replace everything that made him Shin with the man that had traumatised him years before the game began to scrape together even the tiniest chance to survive-- he threw it all to the wind and was willing to let it all be in vain if it meant she got to make it out of the Main Game alive. The worst part is that Sou had never intended to make it through that Main Game. He confessed to already knowing that Kanna would choose Sara over him if she truly had the Sacrifice card. Yet he still did what he did all in the hopes that she could win. Because it was all about her survival first, not about them surviving together.

It also gives a different context to Sou's panic and him stumbling over his words trying to come up with any argument to get them to stop. At first I thought that Sou was afraid for his life. Which would make sense-- Keiji and Q-taro set him up to die and seemed pretty adamant on having everyone voting for him to get it all over with. But he was already prepared to die the minute he realised Kanna traded with Sara. So it means it wasn’t his life he was fearing for here-- it was hers. To him, if they voted for him there, it wouldn’t have just been his end but hers too. But we know that Kanna isn’t the one who has the sacrifice. It’s Nao, and considering how the Main Game can end either or both of them dead, I wonder if he regrets not having given up there, not letting Keiji get away with that shitty stunt he pulled knowing it would’ve at least guaranteed her safety than leave her fate in hands of a girl with enough reason to kill her. Ignoring the sounds of my heart shattering into pieces for the 100th time thinking about the Greenblings, it’s so fascinating that our biggest rival and most distrusted member has a greater sense of loyalty and responsibility for his ally than Keiji has for his own. Sou can be a liar and manipulative and selfish, but for how unpredictable he is something I can always trust is his love for those he holds dear (Kanna) and general desire to protect our most vulnerable (Gin). Sou loves Kanna, and so he’s fine with protecting her even if it comes at a price he never wanted to pay. Keiji surely cares about Sara, but unfortunately that is something I can’t say about him-- at least at that time (also the fact that Sou ended up taking more care and responsibility for Kanna despite Keiji having been the one to throw her on him in the first is so ironic).

*Continuously pushing Sara to take on the role of leader.

I think one of Keiji's biggest failures in the game come from his treatment of Sara despite positioning himself as her most reliable ally and her partner. From the very get-go, he was very adamant of making Sara be the one to shoulder the responsibility of the group. He, along with Joe (he didn't do anything wrong here), pushed Sara to be the Challenger during the Russian Roulette, despite Q-taro and Kai being readily available. He made Sara be the one to interrogate the suspicious convict while distancing himself from the situation. And he encourages her to lead them through the Main Game, lets her make the choices that steer them all forward and as a consequence take the fall for them as well. Rather than take on the role himself, or let another adult take it, he places his full trust in her and makes her shoulder everyone's weight so he doesn't have to. And he can see the effect it has on her: having horrific hallucinations due to the immense guilt she feels. But having Sara as their leader gives him a greater shot at survival and helps his credibility, so even though he tries to provide her comfort he still continues to keep her in that role. Again, the high schooler taking responsibility for the adults falls on a lot of the older people here, but Keiji was the one who kickstarted it rather than just go along with it like everyone else had. Gin, Nao, Kanna, Reko and even fucking Sou to an extent all have moments where they take the burden off her and relieve her of that pain she shoulders all the time (or at least try to). I need Keiji to take more responsibility for both the group and for her.

*Pitting Sara and Joe against each other.

This is just another example of the previous point. This isn't as bad, and I could give him the benefit of the doubt that this might have not been intentional, but it's something I want to bring up regardless. I'll be the first to say that Keiji wasn't wrong here. Prying into everyone's votes is a very bad move, especially since no one knew that Mishima would actually die (it was introduced as a practice round, after all). I agree with him, Joe was being rash, but instead of leaving the conversation there, he decided to throw Sara into it to pick a side. Which is... not good. He already won the argument and already had Reko on his side. Bringing in Sara could not only make Joe feel worse and potentially strain their relationship (especially if she rightfully chooses Keiji's side like he was expecting and hoping for), but just puts Sara in the spotlight during something she doesn't want to be part of. While there's a chance he might've done this because he know Joe is more likely to listen to her than him, he should've known better than that. It again makes her take the responsibility of giving the final verdict that would've otherwise gone to him.

*Asking Sara to take responsibility for his life

I've got nothing other that the grown adult swearing his life to the grieving, unstable teenager to take responsibility for while asking her if she'd die along with him is weird as heck. Keiji's said weirder things prior to this, but this one is a different weird. I think Beanieman's post mostly echoes my thoughts on this on, so I'll link it here for this point. This part kinda bothers me:

He shouldn't be encouraging her taking on anymore responsibility than she already is. He knows that the deaths that happened under her leadership haunt her. He knows that she's very much unstable enough already, to the point where he takes baby-steps to avoid triggering her trauma over Joe. He positioned himself as her reliable partner, her rock to lean on (quite literally sometimes). We see first hand how emotionally dependent she is on him. If he died, it would destroy her-- she'd destroy herself over it. He knows this (or should) but he still does it. His disappointment and dismissiveness when she understandably rejects him makes it worse. The guilt of potentially not living up to his expectations is not what she needs.

*Potentially working for Asunaro

This is more ambiguous than everything else here and more a theory than anything but it's been on my mind for a long time that Ranmaru might actually be onto something here. We know that Asunaro has a strong hold on the police. Midori was able to infiltrate the force, and they were able to get rid of Mr. Policeman for looking into the corruption going on, first having Megumi fire him and secondly getting Keiji to kill him by planting false info about the suspect having a gun. Megumi was also able to get Keiji off the hook for murder, which I believe Asunaro had a hand in too (I theorize this might've been her wish). There's also Alice, who was arrested and sent to prison despite the fact that he (legally) didn't kill anyone since Midori was a doll. The police are connected to Asunaro-- by extension Megumi and extending further potentially Keiji.

Something I've seen someone rightfully point out is that neither of the options you're given to say in response to the accusation... actually deny it? Both choices dance around answering directly, which is suspect as fuck. If Keiji truly wasn't with Asunaro, why not shut that theory down immediately? There's no benefit to answering anything but "no" when he's innocent, and he's lied straight to people's faces for less. So why not just debunk it? I think it's cuz there might be some truth to what Ranmaru was saying here. The biggest reason I think this is because despite the fact that Keiji quit the force, he and Megumi were still associating with each other years later. They were kidnapped together and partnered up for their first trial. One missable piece of dialogue is Keiji admitting that he was with his partner-- or rather a "coworker"-- before getting knocked out.

That slip of the tongue and backtracking makes me believe this part to be true. Him switching from "my partner" to "a coworker", which is a lot more distant and impersonal, makes me think it's got to be Megumi. However, I don't believe that Keiji would wanna keep in touch with her after what happened willingly, so I can only imagine that it's due to that debt he has to her. My little game theory here is that after the shooting, the debt he owed her was a forced recruitment into Asunaro. It's the only thing I can imagine he meant by "the worst kind of debt", a debt he'd literally let her die for to get out of. And if this is true, then it could also explain away his instant attachment to Sara, since he'd know beforehand that she's someone he can depend on due to her having the highest chance at survival. Maybe he already knew about her beforehand, one way or the other. We know Hayasaka did (which I think we as a fandom moved on from way too fast btw). Kai and Sou did too. There's always a chance. And unlike Sou's victory rate and Midori's favourite number, it's not zero. One person made a comic about this idea I recommend checking it out, it's tastefully unsettling. But still very much unsetling and uncomfortale. Be warned that it's also Keisara-centred, so if that makes you even more uncomfortable they did the job right you can ignore it. Proceed with caution or don't read if you don't like.

*Being a predator

I have been waiting so long for this one XD For context: a while ago I made a longpost discussing the sanitisation of soushin and this kind of toxic attitudes in fandoms regarding "problematic content" (ships, characters, shows, you name it). In it, I mentioned that it's not only soushin that receives this treatment but a certain other dynamic too. It's not a rainy day, however this has been way overdue and if I don't get this done now I never will.

Something I've seen a lot, and I mean a LOT-LOT is this notion that Keiji acts "like a father" to Sara and that their relationship is a completely platonic father-daughter bond and that he's the resident dad of the group? Like, it's cute, but that's not at all what their relationship is. At all. Not even a little bit. We called Sou and Kanna siblings before the Greenblings reveal. The difference is that not only does half the fandom think this man is gay, but he's only ever been protective and caring and loving without any romantic intentions towards Kanna ever. His title as her brother was deserved, based on the genuine affection and platonic protectiveness similar to that of Alice's. Keiji has made advances tho, on many occasions, and his flirting is repeatedly acknowledged by other characters. Namely Sou and Reko.

(Sou grills him for being a creep every chance he gets I love him XD) But yeah, these are not the type of reactions and comments you receive when being a "father-figure" to the teenager. You get all this when you hit on the teenager. Which he does all the time by calling her "cute" every time she asks something and his "cute little detective", swearing himself to her by saying that "he's always on her side" or something like that, asking her if she'd die alongside him, repeatedly claiming or insinuating that they're on a date, or ""having a moment"" and going to ""take the next step"" when in private (*cough* groomer *cough*)-- you name it, he likely said it. He's a walking-talking ladykiller machine and teenage girls aren't safe, apparently.

(Quick note: The dialogue for the Russian Roulette one is a tad different now. In the new translation he says "cause you're so darn cute" now. I dunno if that makes it sound any less weird, but I felt like putting that out there. What I'm also putting out there is that according to the trivia he calls her cute 8 times throughout the game so. Yeah. *Cough* groomer *COUGH COUGH*)

Like, who tf says this?? Especially that last part 💀 Even if you wanna die on the hill that these are supposed to be "jokes" not to be taken seriously, we should all be able to agree that the (ex)police officer in his late 20s jokingly hitting on the high schooler he follows around is still weirdo behaviour at best and down right despicable at worst. The fandom seeing lowkey predatory/inappropriate behaviour from a figure of authority persistent for almost three entire chapters and dismissing it as "fatherly" and "platonic" is, well, concerning. It's very concerning. If your dad acts like Keiji, you should probably call the police. Unfortunately for Sara, Keiji is the police. And considering this guy got away with manslaughter, I don't think said police would do anything anywho. But yeah-- he uses flattery and flirting to distract her from prodding to much at him while simultaneously aiming to gain favour in her eyes. He showers her with reassurance of his loyalty and affirmation of his deeper attachment towards her and her alone every chance he gets to cement his position as her closest and most trustworthy ally. He insinuates a romantic partnership between them to others to mostly keep her to himself or the two of them alone (he always does that when they're investigating or going to investigate by themselves). There's such an obvious romantic undertone to their relationship and his actions that it going almost completely ignored in the fandom feels weird to me.

I want to make clear that there's nothing wrong with headcanoning Keiji as a father figure to Sara. It's cute. Keiji didn't have a dad himself, and the closest thing to a father figure he had was the man he shot dead. He's a damaged and hardened guy. But Sara's dad is involved with Asunaro and Gin's is an alcoholic, and in a situation where they both need guidence and protection he tries his best to grow and change, fumbling to become that decent father none of them got to have. It's nice, and a wholesome dynamic for our "characters with memorandum counterparts and only non-determined deaths" trio. But that's obviously not what their dynamic is. There's a difference between headcanoning something and erasing canon and the Yttd fandom leans heavily into the latter. Keiji's a creep, he always has been, yet 90% of people I see always portray him as a Mr. Dad Guy or completely sanitise him to hell when him being creepy and unnerving to be around is what made him such a fascinating character. Just like I said with Soushin, the sanitisation to make canon more digestible is one thing: harassing or insulting the people that explore canon is another. I'm gonna take a bullet, derail this rant and say it-- Keisara shippers get so much shit for literally being right it's so infuriating. Keiji does hit on Sara, a lot. He's creepy and weird like that. Him flirting with her isn't a "mistranslation" or a joke or anything like that; his dubious wording and antics are very much intentional. Yet the only people I see actually addressing and acknowledging that without adding fluff is keisara shippers and other ""proshippers"" only for them to get fucking sniped for it I cannot 💀💀 I have yet to meet a single eastern fan who calls this cop "fatherly". This really feels like such a western issue cuz the majority of the japanese fandom agrees that this man's a predator (correct me if i'm wrong but keisara is the most popular ship in the japanese side of the fandom, right?). Then again, eastern fandoms are more chill over there when it comes to separating fiction and reality in general anywho.

*Yeah, I think I'm done with the Keiji slander. Yay. Time to unceremoniously end this.

There's more to say about that, but this is a Keiji post, not another shipping discourse post (although it's hard discussing Keiji's predatory behaviour without bringing it up too). Before I do spiral from the original point, I'm going to try and reach some sort of conclusion here. While I did spent the majority of this post just reading Keiji to filth, and am very salty towards him in particular, this was not just to rake him through mud for my own sanity (tho it's part of it XD). Keiji's character is that he started off as someone who wanted to do the right thing, someone who wanted to be good and moral and protect others by joining the force only to kill all the progress he made along with the person who inspired him to become an officer in the first place. It heavily contrasts the Keiji we have now, a sleazy, unreliable and corrupt ex detective who flirts with underage girls and is willing to resort to the most bankrupt of decisions to save himself. A man that has long lost hope of his wounds healing that he lets them fester and his rot spread onto others. And while I headcanon Keiji to just inherently be a piece of shit, his former self tried his best to be genuinely good before he became so convinced he can never be better that he made peace with his shittiness in the end.

With all this I wanted to highlight some the shadier and bankrupt things he's done that I haven't seen much discussion around and refresh myself on them before the final part. Both so no matter how emotionally dependent and therefore rose-tinted Sara is about the man I don't forget what he's actually like and what he's done while also being able to appreciate how much he's changed for the better. Some of my favourite examples about how he's changed are these:

Before the second Main Game Keiji was willing to let Sara and Kanna die because it was the most beneficial option for him, but in Chapter 3 he takes the on the role of "it" from Kanna and refuses to tag Sara when he thought he was gonna die after failing to beat Midori.

Actually showing more sympathy towards Sou after the Main Game. He was very mean about dismantling his pretence of a cold front to Kanna's death, don't get me wrong, but he showed a lot more consideration and understanding for Sou's feelings and acknowledgement about his active role in it than he ever had beforehand.

He was genuinely fighting for everyone to survive the game, not just himself. While Keiji would prefer everyone making it out safely, he has a tendency to guarantee his own survival first through any means necessary. His plan to corner Midori in the banquet could've cost him his life if it weren't for Q-taro's final stunt, yet he still reassured Sara to save Gin even tho it could've resulted in his execution from Meister potentially finding him guilty of violating the rules.

Him hugging Mai and trying to be more cheerful was cute as heck. I'm sorry but him showing more vulnerability around his allies and being less closed off in a way he hasn't been before is something I'm very head empty about. That he was hugging and interacting with Mai without making any unwanted advances or ladykiller jokes and generally just having a more friendly vibe was nice. It makes his creeping on Sara more unfortunate, but I'll take what I can for now. The bar is in hell.

And that's it, I think. Overall, I hope they do address some of his actions here in the final part or make them have an impact on his and Sara's relationship. Especially that Asunaro part. The person who wished for Sara to join the death game is still unknown and so is Keiji's consent form wish (same goes for the Dummies, Hinako and Megumi), so I'm curious if they're related or not. If he's going to go down an even darker path or redeem himself as much as he can we'll see when the final part drops. He has the potential to go both ways. This is going to be kinda awkward if the next part reveals him to have been a decent guy all along, so hopefully that doesn't happen. Please be morally bankrupt, man. This post didn't end up the way I wanted it to, nor bring up as many points as I would've liked, but I know I won't finish it if I went full perfectionist on it (I already spent months on this writer's block do be a bitch) and it's looking kinda long already. Hopefully it's still decent enough as is right now. I'd like to say that this is my apology for the last longpost I made, but I brought up one of the most controversial and hated ships and traits of Keiji's character and defended them, so maybe I shouldn't 🙃 Anywho, hope you enjoyed and cheerio.

#yttd #your turn to die #keiji shinogi #keisara #character discussion #apologies to all the keiji fans i promise i'm one of you. sorta #he's one of my faves in the game and ranks pretty high but not for the reasons he should i think #keiji's one of those characters i feel negatively about yet want to learn and do more with so that's the energy i probably give off here #also i noticed that most of these points involve sara which makes sense but is also very sad when you think about it #there's a lot of other things i'd want to expand on (mainly that last point) but i suppose i can wait another day #this is going to be my last longpost in a while because i'm going to be busier from today for better or for worse. probably for better lmao #last reminder to be nice. this isn't twitter but i know better #i'll beta read it again later for any mistakes i missed so apologies for any potential typos or errors #also it might actually rain today so heck yeah #i'm a soushin shipper so happy keisara week to anyone that participates btw ^_^#momento rambles

69 notes · View notes