#me writing about st Tumblr posts

[sparks-olivarpente]

Why I liked the Mindflayer better

This starts with "I prefer the Mindflayer over Vecna and that bothers me because I need to be impressed by the bad guy" and ends… It doesn't go anywhere actually. I tried to put my thoughts on paper and they ended up all over the place. Please don't read (thanks if you do!)

The Mindflayer works well as a metaphor of the unknown within us. Little Will can't yet face some stuff within himself, it appears to him as that huge unknowable shadow and Will doesn't know if he himself is the monster or what. This, I can relate to (I litterally used to believe there was an eldritch monster inside of me when I was 13)

But now that the monster has taken shape (S3) and became a person (S4)? He can't work as a metaphor anymore (to me, maybe that works for others. Let me know if it does <3). Now he's just some guy! Who talks too much. There's nothing hidden about him anymore (or maybe there is and that's the whole point. I know there are theories out there about things not being what they seem about Henry's story. Maybe he wasn't truthfull. A lot of S4 was about lying after all, it would make sense. He wants us/the Party to believe he's the bad guy and he's really still hidding behind that)

So, Henry. I understand little Henry up to a point (his view of time, feeling stuck, his loneliness, his disconnection, wanting to take control) but I don't see how that leads to wanting to destroy everything? in his place I'd just end up badly depressed. and wanting to escape. Maybe… if this is about what happens when a disconnected person meets an horror from another dimension, we still miss part of the story? or I just need to watch S4 again.

Our own personal dragons… they're only big scary monsters when we can't face them. Once we do, they become little lost puppies, or screaming toddlers. Not really scary. Where am I going with that… I guess, I can't find another human scary anymore (I mean, after spending most of my life meeting my own dragons) We're all just afraid and we need a hug or something. Henry looks like he has fallen into some deep internal black hole and a hug won't be enough but still. I can't be afraid of him. Annoyed, angry, but not impressed.

Although… being stuck forever in Henry's mindspace is pretty scary. Someone gets Max out of here ;_; It's like Henry created his own hell that's ended up worse than what he was afraid of (time, routine, lie) Time IS scary but… the UD or Henry's mindspace, that seems kind of stuck forever at ONE moment in time? It is worse. It can't evolve, it can't get better (I used to be afraid and angry about time and… just, reality as it is, until I ended up with the curious discovery that time can be seen as a gift of love but getting off topic) (just… I can see Henry being stuck in one of those dark places I was stuck in, only worse)

Having written that I think what I need is, maybe, a deeper understanding of Henry's fears? Now that the monster is a person, I need to see where he is stuck (I'm not sure about that part, I feel I'm contradicting myself, because I find people I can't understand at all, such as Lonnie or Angela, scarier. I really need to watch S4 again and see what really bother me with that guy) (maybe I just don't like Vecna because he looks ridiculous) If he's just the bad bad guy our team needs to kill to put the world back in order… what's the point? (I don't really think that will happen in S5. I don't have a clue what will happen in S5)

This… did not really go anywhere but then I warned you ^^

<3

[jvlianbashir]

"the creator said in a reddit thread -" "the official twitter account posted that -" "the actors confirmed in a livestream that -"

i don't care and that's not real to me. put it in the text.

[rocketkit]

fourth scene from a nonexistent fic

[linseymorris]

[thegonse]

she better be happy soon!!!

[artzybumpkin]

I Need Your Help...

CW/ mpreg, language, slight angst (people saying harsh things to/about each other that they don’t really mean because they’re hurt and are stupid dumb idiots that are bad at communicating🥺💔)

Pt. 2

"Here we go," F0rd finally said after sifting through one of the cupboards in the small kitchen and pulling out a can. He chucked it St@n's way, the latter reflexively catching it like he'd been tossed a baseball. "I could warm it up if you'd rather, but it'll take the stove a bit to heat up."

St@nley turned the can in his fingers as he studied the label. Baron NumNums High Flyin’ Pork 'n Beans. 'Not exactly kosher, S1xer,' he almost joked aloud, but kept his mouth shut. It's not something that mattered to himself, anyway. Not anymore.

"Nah, it's fine like it is." he assured as he pulled out a pocket knife. He could practically feel the curious look his brother was giving him as he dug the blade into the lid of the can, making quick work of popping it open and eagerly dipping the spoon he'd been given into it's contents.

Though he wouldn't outright admit it... he was absolutely FAMISHED. So much so he basically shuddered in delight at the mere taste as he popped the first bite into his mouth. 'Finally, something NOT terrible for once!' he thought euphorically. It was by no means a spectacular meal, but to an empty stomach it was manna from heaven.

As he slowly came down from his dopamine high, he noticed F0rd still fumbling through the other cabinets like he had a bad case of tunnel vision. As he studied him, it was only now that St@nley got the chance to really see the scrawny and disheveled state his brother was in. How sluggish his movements were. How pale and gaunt his face was. And his hands… What was the cause for how beaten up they were?... The man looked like he hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in weeks.

‘That’s… not a good sign..,’ St@nley thought, the already existing concern amplified tenfold the longer he looked at him. He cleared his throat awkwardly in an attempt to get his attention. "Hey, uh... why dontcha sit down with me, eh? Get some food in ya? Tell me what's goin' on? I don't mean to be so frank but... You look like hell, Stanf0rd."

"Ah... later," he mused, still distracted by whatever he was searching for. In the midst of his search, his fingers grazed the forming bruise on the left side of his jaw. He opened and closed his mouth experimentally, feeling out the source of a dull yet stubborn pang in his mouth. "I think you broke one of my molars."

"… Right... yeah," St@n chuckled dryly, "uh... sorry 'bout that, by the way..."

"Besides, you're one to talk," he barked, glazing right over St@n's curt apology, "You're not exactly a sight to behold yourself, you know. AND you've currently got a stowaway to worry about." He closed the cupboard door and turned to go to the next room. "Stay here, I'll be back."

St@nley rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time that day. "Bettin' on it…" As soon as F0rd disappeared around the corner, he shot a look to the far end of the table, where the journal lay, and scowled. There were still so many questions he had yet to be answered. He just had to figure out how to get his brother to talk.

For a few minutes F0rd could faintly be heard rummaging through a few drawers, all the while muttering a short 'Now where is the damn thing?..,’ and ‘I swear it was here last time..,’ before he finally let out a mildly triumphant 'Aha!'

When he returned to the kitchen, he'd brought with him a small, worn briefcase (what was, upon setting it onto the table and flipping it open, revealed to be a decently stocked yet obviously thrown-together first aid kit). "Okay, pull up your shirt. Let me see your shoulder."

Letting out a small exasperated breath, St@n carefully (being VERY mindful of how he moved his sore shoulder) wriggled out of his jacket and pulled the back of his shirt up over his shoulders, bunching it up around his neck.

F0rd went to wash his hands, then stepped around and behind his brother to better assess the damage. He winced empathetically as he looked it over.

The burn had to be at least 2nd if not 3rd degree, as the skin was already starting to tighten around the edges of the mark that was left... angry… inflamed... Even worse, though, was the unconventional shape of what was most definitely going to become a scar later.

His brother had basically been branded with an alchemic sigil. Because of him, there was now a permanent reminder of their earlier fight...

And yet another reminder of how far they'd grown apart...

"How bad is it?" St@n's question rang, pulling F0rd from his thoughts.

"Hmm... well... it's, uh..."

"Gonna leave a mark?"

"No doubt about it." He took a moment to grab a washcloth and soaked one of it's corners in soapy water. "I'm gonna have to clean it so it doesn't get infected. It's not gonna feel great, but just-"

"Save the explanation, brainiac," St@n interrupted, mouth full from the latest spoonful of beans. "I’ve been through this song and dance before. Do what you have to, I can deal. Just hurry it up, would ya? It's cold in here."

Now it was F0rd's turn to roll his eyes. And despite himself, a slight smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. 'As brawny and bullheaded as ever, St@nley..,’ he thought amusedly as he began lightly dabbing at the wound. He’d reached the center of the mark where the burn was at its worst when the small sound of his brother hissing through his teeth made him pause. Guilt ate at him, at the prospect of causing his brother any more physical pain than he had already, but he continued cleaning as gently as he could. It simply had to be done.

Once he was satisfied he'd properly disinfected the area, F0rd reached back into the kit, pulled out the bacitracin, and applied it generously to the surface of the burn before topping it off with a sterile pad. It was a very basic mend, he figured, but it would have to do. It was only as he continued working that he realized they'd suddenly fallen quiet again. And while the silence wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, there was still a level of tension that couldn’t be entirely ignored.

As he went to unroll a bundle of gauze, his eyes unintentionally bounced towards St@nley's belly. Judging by the sheer size of it, as it occupied most of the space in his lap, it was obvious he had to be nearing full term... a thought that greatly unsettled his nerves the more he lingered on it… Nevertheless, he decided to pry.

"So, um... When did you find out?"

"’Find out?’"

"About your... situation." he clumsily clarified while he wrapped the gauze around St@n’s shoulder and across his back and chest.

St@nley made a small sound of acknowledgement, drumming his fingers on the surface of the table as he carefully decided his wording. After a moment of thought, a deep sigh dragged itself from his chest. He set his now empty can down and then cradled his chin with his palm as he leaned onto the table on his elbow. "I think... about the first week of September."

“OH…” Only 4 months ago?? “Oh wow, so you were already a ways along then…”

“Yup. I'd been feeling... y’know... off for a while before that, but I just figured I’d caught some crazy flu bug or something during a, uh..,” St@n hesitated, reevaluating, “… freelance job. Was sick as shit for WEEKS. I couldn't keep anything down, didn't have the energy to even keep myself upright...” He grimaced. “God, it was awful, Ford… I swore I felt like I could’ve keeled over at the drop of a hat… And then when I finally, FINALLY thought I'd gotten past it, I started feeling... weird."

F0rd tore off a couple strips of medical tape to secure the wrapping. "Weird?..," he repeated.

"Well... it was hard to place the words at the time, but the best way I could describe it was that it kinda felt like my insides were rearranging themselves. It spooked me enough to seek out a back alley physician, anyway.”

It took everything in him for F0rd to hold his tongue at that revelation, but he stayed silent as his brother explained.

“Didn't have high hopes for an accurate diagnosis, but... Well, how hard would a basic check up be?? Worst case scenario I either got an answer or I didn’t. Not to mention he was dirt cheap. Beggars can't be choosers…” He made an ironically amused sound, “So imagine my surprise when the doc told me I was roughly 18 weeks..."

“I… imagine that news wasn’t exactly anticipated…”

St@nley shook his head lightly. "Needless to say, I called the guy a quack and left. I didn’t want to believe it at first... I couldn’t… Hell, it’s not like I even showed that much. I mean, I’ve always had some heft to my person, so a little extra gut didn’t make me question anything… But considering everything that lead up to then… it all sorta lined up... Then wouldn't ya know it, a handful of positive, corner store pregnancy tests later… turned out the fucker was right."

F0rd finished checking over the bandaging before finally pulling out a chair to sit across from his brother, folding his arms over the table (atop the journal, St@nley noted, still somewhat guarded in manner). His eyes, though exhausted and bothered, remained inquisitive. “So, then… that sensation you were talking about?.. Was that..?”

"Oh… yeah,” St@n lightly chuckled, giving the side of his belly a gentle pat, “that was just junior here figuring out they have legs… and they have NOT let me forget it, either." The small smile on his face faltered. "But, uh... yeah… I've been trying to keep track of the weeks ever since..."

F0rd hummed his acknowledgement, nodding lightly as he processed the information he'd just been given. Then another question, though it was more of an observation in the form of a question. "You've been going about this alone, haven’t you?…"

St@nley lulled his head to the side, his tired expression wordlessly yet clearly asking, 'What's it look like, genius?..’

He pointedly left it at that. Then F0rd’s face fell as another revelation came to mind. "Wait.... You've not been to a doctor SINCE?? It's January, St@nley! That means..." He paused, brows furrowing as he only now took the time to do the math. "Oh my God, you're-"

“‘About to pop,’" St@n finished as he pulled his shirt back down over his torso (a task easier said than done). "Yes, I'm WELL aware of that notion, poindexter. Glad we’re clear on that."

“But what if something happened? What if something went wrong?? You could’ve been seriously hurt, you knucklehead!” F0rd scolded, gesturing vaguely in his brother’s direction. “Or WORSE!!”

"Don’t you think I KNOW that??!" St@n sighed, trying to reign in the sudden burst of frustration. "Look, I... I've not exactly had the luxury of having prenatal care at my disposal, alright?.. I went to a friggin' doc in a box ONE other time for anemia and it took about every penny I had to my name. Believe me, had the option been available to me, I would've made a point to go in a heartbeat… but if I expected to make ends meet on a day to day basis..,” he hung his head lower, eyeing the floor, “… there was just no way..."

F0rd let out a tense breath. "I'm just saying... It's not a good idea to let a pregnancy go unchecked for so long. And then coming all the way out here was dangerous... Who knows who or what you could've run into on the way??"

"Eh... it's arguably safer than where I was before... In fact, if I'm being completely honest, this trip might've just saved my life..." he admitted, his free hand absentmindedly cradling the underside of his belly, "or at least bought me some time..."

"What's that supposed to mean??"

St@n debated over whether or not he should open that can of worms... so he decided he'd keep it brief. "Let's just say I was half expecting to get my head caved in any day now, had I decided to stick around Dead End..." He cast a glance that suggested the subject be dropped.

F0rd's eyes briefly widened in unease. He then pressed them shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Dear God, St@nley..," he sighed. He didn’t even have it in him right then to ask for any further elaboration.

The room was quiet during their intermission, as they gave themselves time to debrief.

Then, allowing himself an intentionally long, drawn out breath, St@nley leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Alright, your turn."

"Hm?" F0rd looked back up warily.

"I gave you my sob story, let's hear yours!"

"'Sob story?'” his tone took an air of offense to it, “I’ll have you know this is a very serious matter!"

“So I've heard…”

F0rd scowled at the blatant sarcasm. “I mean it, St@nley! This is something so much bigger than you or I! It could mean the end of effectively everything as we know it!”

"Okay then, ENLIGHTEN me! It's what I've been trying to get you to do this whole friggin’ time! Just tell me what’s going on, without all the cryptic bullshit! Why did you need me to come here just to send me away again, Stanf0rd?" He quickly reached for and snatched the journal out from under his brother's arms, waving it carelessly in front of him. "And what's so damn important about this book that you need it gone but not destroyed?? If it's SO dangerous, why not just shred the thing??" He punctuated his short tangent by dropping the leatherback loudly in the center of the table, the booming sound making his brother flinch.

"I already told you!" F0rd said as he picked it back up with both hands, "The information recorded in these journals is much too valuable to destroy. However, to ensure it stays out of the wrong hands, it must be taken away from here... it could be disastrous if that happens... And the only other person that I could have entrusted to take it flat out refuses to speak to me!..," his gaze landed on the journal he held, his reflection stared back from the emblem in the center. "... You were my last resort... The last hope I have of ever fixing the mess I've caused..." He looked back up to his brother. "And that's why it's of the utmost importance to take this thing FAR away from here as SOON as humanly possible!"

"Mm-hm..." St@n ran his hands along the length of his face. “Yeah, see, I just don’t understand what good squirreling this thing away in some hole on the other side of the planet is gonna do. 'Bury it where no one can find it??' I could just chuck this thing over a mountainside in the Rockies and it'd be dealt with!" He readjusted himself in his seat, straightening up. "But more importantly, what I'd like to know is who these 'wrong hands' are referring to. The mob? The government?? Are you saying someone's got a hit on you??"

Stanf0rd groaned, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "You don't get it, St@nley..."

‘When do I ever?..,’ he thought bitterly, his patience growing ever thinner the longer he prodded. He swore he could get more answers out of a goddamn brick wall.

"It HAS to be taken far enough away that it can't be stumbled upon by just any passersby. And if I were to go hide it myself, I'd be wasting valuable time that I need to prepare for what's coming! I have to make it out to the ruins before the snowfall covers the only entrance to the caves! And if I don't go IMMEDIATELY, there might not be another chance to do anything before..,” might as well not beat around the bush any longer, “he brings forth complete and utter chaos!"

At that, there was a beat… then St@nley made a tired noise, rubbing his temples. “Okay… alright… cool…” His head was beginning to hurt now. "Juuuust leave it to ol' S1xer to make the explanation confusing-"

“Do NOT call me by that name!!” came a sudden, visceral interjection, making St@n nearly jump out of his skin.

All the energy in the room came to a screeching halt.

Breathing heavily for a minute, and seeing the startled confusion etched into his brother’s face, F0rd realized he'd lashed out and visibly shrunk in his seat. "I... sorry, it's not... that wasn’t… y-you didn't know, I... Gosh, I'm sorry..." he babbled, avoiding eye contact, "I don't know what came over me..." The shame he felt was unbearable… To think he let himself get so worked up over something so silly as a nickname… all because of-…

It was only when the sound of his brother gently rapping on the table, to get his attention, registered that he dared look back up to face him.

As he leaned forward on the table, arms folded tightly underneath him, St@nley's demeanor had shifted… no trace of sarcasm left to be seen. "Who did this to you, F0rd?..." There was an intensity in his voice that was equal parts steadying and intimidating, his eyes meeting his brother's and locking. Though it obviously wasn't directed at himself, F0rd could swear there was a murderous glint in that gaze... “Who's threatening you?... Who scared you so badly that you're taking these drastic measures??..."

"I..." F0rd suddenly felt so transparent, like he was being read like a book… Somehow St@nley had managed to just about hit the nail on the head… He covered his face, beginning to feel overwhelmed. There was so much he wanted to explain in full... but could he without endangering either his brother or himself?? Or rather, could he explain himself without sounding like a total madman??

“Who used that name and tarnished it, Stanf0rd??…”

“I-I..,” he stuttered, breaking, "I can't... Th-There's simply no way for me to explain everything for you to understand!"

"Then HELP me to understand!” St@nley pleaded, at his wits’ end. It hurt him so badly to see his brother so utterly tormented with no way for him to get through to or comfort him. He HAD to get through to him… somehow! “HELP me! I’m really, really, REALLY tryin’ here, F0rd, but you're not giving me anything to work off of! I sound like a fucking broken record saying this shit! I care about you, you dumbass, I’m your BROTHER! So you can't keep leaving me in the dark! You have to trust me! Please just trust me, Stanf0rd!"

Trust me...

Those two little words that he’d heard time and time again… those two words that, to him, had lost every ounce of sincerity due to the sheer amount they’d been used and squandered by so very many people in his life… Hearing those two words suddenly agitated F0rd to no end.

He looked his brother in the face and scoffed, "OH, no! NO!! YOU, of all people, don't get to go preaching to ME about TRUST, Mr. 'Buy my products, they won't do you wrong! I'm just your humble, neighborhood salesman who ISN’T a shyster whatsoever! Did I tell you to buy my products yet??’”

The deer-in-the-headlights look St@n gave him only managed to light a fire under him as he desperately took the chance to redirect the attention away from himself.

"Yeah, that’s right, St@nley! Or should I refer to you by one of your ridiculous aliases like 'P@nley St1ne's??' … 'P@NLEY,' St@nley?! You couldn't come up with anything better than that?!" He shook his head, getting sidetracked, "My point is, I've seen what you've been up to over the years! In fact there's been no way to avoid seeing it! I've seen the ads in the papers! The commercials! The... 'products,' if you could even call them that! I've SEEN how you've scammed people! How you’ve LIED to people! Hell, if I didn't just see your bare belly l'd have half a mind to assume you stuffed a damn pillow up your shirt in a shoddy attempt to fool me!"

St@nley stared at him in disbelief, mouth slightly agape. The rest of what his brother said hurt well enough, but that last part?? "What in the-... Where on EARTH did you get that idea, Stanf0rd?? Do you you realize how completely DEMEANING that accusation is?? What could I possibly hope to gain?? Faking THIS??" he exclaimed, aggressively gesturing to himself with his hands bracketing his burgeoning middle.

"I don't know, SYMPATHY?? Some twisted method of MANIPULATION?? Seems like something a con-man such as yourself wouldn't think twice about exploiting!"

St@n reeled back as though he'd been struck. That one got him. "... Is that really what you think of me??..,” came an uncharacteristically quiet tone, "Do you really think I'd try and pull a fast one on you in your time of need??..."

As much as he hated himself for it, as much as F0rd KNEW he shouldn’t say it, the instinctive desire to get the last word in overruled whatever rational response he should have spouted… and a venomous response slipped out before he could stop himself. “... Frankly, I wouldn't put it past you..."

St@nley stared down at the floor for several moments, processing everything that had just been laid out before him. To think his own brother thought so little of him... Sure, what he'd said was vaguely in line with the truth, regarding his grifting record. Conning strangers for his own benefit was one thing, albeit not a great thing and certainly not something he was proud of, but it was something he simply had to resort to to make ANY kind of basic living… To trick his family though?... his own BROTHER?? To suggest he'd even go so far as to fake a pregnancy of all things just to tug at his heartstrings... that was a low even he didn't think he could bring himself to sink to.

In that moment, it was made clear to him; After everything he suffered for, everything he tried in vain to atone for, and after over a DECADE of radio silence... his brother still held to that idea that he was this selfish, deceitful, untrustworthy monster...

The regret was immediate as soon as the words left Stanf0rd’s lips. Why’d he have to go and say that? With stakes as high as they were, for more reasons than one, stirring the pot was the last thing he needed to do and yet… "I... St@nley, I... I-I didn't mean-…"

After a minute of brooding, St@n scooped his jacket off the floor, snaking his arms back through it's sleeves as he finally stood up from his chair. "Y'know what? That's it. I don’t care anymore. I'm done."

“'Done??' What do you mean 'DONE??'” His eyes keenly followed him as he passed by. "St@nley, where are you going?"

"What’s it to you? It’s not like you actually wanted me here. After all, I was your last resort, right?” his voice was monotone as he made his way to the front door… empty… hurt… “As always, Stanf0rd Filbr1ck P1nes, you were right. I shouldn’t ‘ve come… I shouldn’t ‘ve bothered…”

Stanf0rd immediately got up and grasped the fabric of St@n’s sleeve, holding him in place. “Now hang on a minute, would you please just listen to me for a second??”

Try as he had to keep the rage bottled up, that was the last straw. “Yeah, sure... Or how 'bout this?” Smacking the hand off his jacket sleeve, St@nley turned on his heel, scornfully wagging his pointer finger in his brother's face, prompting the latter to back up a step. “You listen here, and you listen GOOD, smartass! I don't need you lecturing me, REMINDING me of how shitty a person I am! I KNOW I'M A SCREW UP, STANF0RD! I KNOW that!! Preaching to the freakin' choir on that front!" He looked down at himself and laughed a humorless laugh. "I mean hell, just LOOK at me! I'm knocked up with some bastard-not-worth-the-air-he-breathes' bastard! All with no place to call home! That's fuck up incarnate, amirite??"

F0rd began to respond but was abruptly cut off.

“And here’s another thing you were right about; the WHOLE-ASS drive up here and how much it absolutely SUCKED! Over thirteen-fucking-HUNDRED miles on the road is no place to be when you’re essentially a walking, talking time bomb! The whole drive, the whole drive, I've had this crippling, nagging fear at the back of my brain telling me I’d likely end up hopelessly lost! Or, better YET, reminding me of the possibility that I’d might have to pull over at some point and spit this kid out on the side of the road without any help! Do you know how terrifying that thought was, F0rd?? When you’re trying to navigate those insanely long back roads nobody knows about, all on your own?? And all for the sake of showing up when your brother asked for you to, because you foolishly thought he actually NEEDED you?? OF COURSE YOU DON’T!! Cuz that WASN'T you, that wasn't YOUR problem, and thus it doesn’t MATTER!! The world revolves around YOU, and anyone else's issues can go ahead and take a back seat for all you care, isn’t that right??"

“St@nley, stop it! You’re becoming hysterical!” F0rd attempted to reason, wanting desperately to diffuse the situation… Needless to say, it was fruitless…

“NO!! Because you wanna know what else?? NEWSFLASH, brother, YOU'RE not perfect either! You act like you're ‘God's gift to the populace’ or something when you're NOT! It's not like you ever bothered to help ME out when I needed somebody! I’ve only ever had myself for the better part of 10 years, so it would’ve been nice for you to, I dunno, check in once or twice! Or at least a throw out some bullshit 'Hey, bro! Hope you're alive and doing alright! I can't talk or meet with you right now, and frankly I probably don't WANT to, but I hope you know l've not forgotten about you and that somewhere deep down I still love you! Take care, St@nley!' for some semblance of caring! Just SOMETHING!! Some acknowledgment that I EXIST!! That-That I’m not just a-a-a STAIN left behind!! So WHY?? Why did I care?? Why did I think-..?!" He froze when his voice suddenly cracked, cutting him off before he could continue.

Now noticing how hazy his vision had become, how shaky his hands were, he was horrified to realize that he'd burst into tears partway through his rant. All the repressed emotions were starting to show face... 'Humiliated' couldn't even BEGIN to cover how he felt right then... And when he finally studied the expression F0rd currently wore, he felt like he might vomit.

That all too familiar look of pure, unadulterated… pity… The physical embodiment of ‘Oh you poor, pathetic thing...’

St@nley DESPISED that look… It’d been one he’d received countless, countless times in his life. And while he knew that more often than not the intent behind that expression was never truly out of ill meaning, the immense degradation it brought him was suffocating. He couldn’t bear to see it another second… especially coming from his own flesh and blood. He squeezed his eyes shut to escape it.

F0rd, meanwhile, was at a complete loss for words. What could he say? What should he say?? How could he explain the sheer magnitude of what’s been going on that didn’t sound like the utter ramblings of a man who’s lost his mind?? How could he convince St@nley to put aside their personal issues for a second and help aid him in fixing this mess?? Important things needed attending to!! This was a matter of the fate of the WORLD, dammit!! The livelihood of effectively EVERYONE!!

But then… his brother’s points made him reflect… What of his brother’s woes?… St@nley’s woes??... The woes of the person who, at one point in time, meant MORE to him than the world itself??… Did they not matter in the grander scheme?? The hardships St@nley had gone through completely alone, left unbeknownst to him just because he… couldn't bring himself to reach out and see how his brother was actually doing?.. Simply because he couldn't bear the thought of truly knowing how rough he had it in life while they were apart?..

Assuming St@nley was just wandering aimlessly around all this time, without a care or ounce of respect for anyone in the world, made ignoring those painful thoughts so much easier... Knowing what he did now, he suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

For so long, Stanf0rd had spent every waking hour pouring over his research, dragging himself along through countless sleepless nights, pushing anyone and everyone away... out of his mind... out of his heart... all to combat an omniscient evil he still frustratingly… didn’t quite understand yet, himself... His work had completely and utterly consumed him. He’d lost sight of what few allies he had… He'd lost sight of his family… And loathe as he was to admit it, perhaps in this mission to ‘save humanity,’ he actually lost sight of his own…

As he concluded his thought, one thing was made painfully clear… Somehow, one way or another, both his brother and himself had each come to face some form of isolation…

They really were two sides of the same coin...

Taking a moment to steel himself again, St@n pressed the heel of his hand against one eye and then the other, wiping away the tears that managed to run down his cheeks. "I should've known better than to think I could ever be of any help to you... of any value to you... So I’ll do you the courtesy of getting the hell outta your hair. For good this time.”

“St@nley…”

“Can it!” St@nley swiftly snatched the duffle bag off the floor and turned to grab the doorknob, then called out over his shoulder. "Oh yeah, one last thing! Thank you EVER so much for the new 'tattoo!' What better souvenir to remember your estranged brother by than one that's been burned directly into your skin, eh? Your hospitality is truly unmatched, Stanf0rd. TRULY." He re-zipped his jacket and yanked the door open. "See ya never, fuck head," he spat before he slammed the door behind him.

"Hey! HEY!! St@nley, WAIT!!" F0rd followed close behind, storming his way to the door and ripping it back open about as quickly as it was shut. "Damnit St@nley, would you just hold on a second and hear me out-AH!.," he gasped, flinching when he'd almost ran into his brother from behind.

St@n had stopped short on the porch, motionless.

Huffing, he sternly maneuvered around to the right of his brother to face him from the side. “Please, think rationally! You know as well as I do that you have no business running around in the condition you’re in! Look, I get that you’re upset, alright?? I’m sorry! I really am! But you can’t just skip off and..,” he trailed off when he realized St@n was staring straight ahead over the front yard, the look on his face unreadable. He tentatively followed the trajectory of his line of sight, only to freeze in place himself. “… leave…”

Their wide eyed expressions mirrored each other’s, standing parallel as they both gazed at the sight before them.

Snow had piled up by several feet. MUCH higher than it had been earlier . Within just a few hours it had gone from knee height to probably high enough to halfway submerge a person. In the distance, only the rough shape of El Diablo was visible, having a thick cocoon of snow encompassing the body of the vehicle.

And the snow just KEPT coming.

There was no getting out in that…

St@n groaned defeatedly, burying his face in his hands. “Whatever higher power has it out for me can kindly kiss my ass…”

TBC

[bigboysteveharrington]

Eddie lowkey outing himself by accident but Robin’s the only one that’s even certain that’s what’s happening

Eddie’s finally graduated and he’s having a celebratory bonfire with the Hellfire Club and Steve and Nancy and Robin at it. They’re out by Skull Rock so that they won’t get shit or noise complaints from other people in the trailer park. They’ve already ceremonially burned 6 years worth of Eddie’s notes and homework and failed tests by the time Eddie goes off on his own

Which later, he’ll realize wasn’t a great choice. But it’s supposed to be safe in Hawkins with all the gates closed now and in the moment, he just knows that his bladder has caught up to all the drinking and he really needs to take a leak. And okay, maybe he goes a little further away from everyone than is strictly necessary, but he has a shy bladder

And it’s fine at first. He takes a piss and zips his pants back up and goes to head back to where everyone else is but then he gets cut off by the latest kind of demo-monster to be on the loose in Hawkins and he has nothing on him but his wallet, his lighter, and a pack of cigarettes so he is certain that he’s really dead meat this time

He stumbles backwards in his rush to get away from the demo-thing and ends up falling over a broken branch and landing on his ass. The things still moving closer and they’re not supposed to like fire, so he pulls his lighter out and holds the pathetic little flame at arm’s length and yells at it to keep back as if that’s going to do anything. He shouts at it as loud as he can, but he’s the one that brought the boombox and set the volume at the highest so he’s not holding out a lot of hope about being heard and he doesn’t know that it would really help if any of them heard him anyway. So mostly he just thinks he’s dragging out his own death by making the thing come after him slightly more hesitantly because of the fire

But Steve notices Eddie sneak off on his own and it hasn’t been that long, but he thought he’d be back by now, so he’s already contemplating going to check that he’s fine when he hears something off in the direction Eddie went over the shitty music

And clearly Nancy heard it too because she’s already rushing off in that direction and while Robin and the kids rush after her to see what’s going on and Eddie’s out of the loop friends look at each other confused about what’s going on, Steve grabs a big ass stick off the ground and pours the last of his drink over the end and dunks it in the fire and then grabs a big ass bottle of vodka for good measure because even though he couldn’t totally hear what Eddie called out and even though this might just be Eddie up to his usual dramatics on the way back, Steve knows there’s a very real chance that it’s not and that once again the nightmare with the Upside Down isn’t really over like they thought it was and there’s no way he’s risking rushing in as weaponless as everyone else and putting them all in danger. He’ll be the weird guy that chased Eddie with a flaming tree branch to his Hellfire friends if he has to be because he’ll take that over risking anything happening to anyone there

Eddie’s lying on his back on the ground with the full body weight of the demo-thing on him and he’s got his eyes clenched shut and he’s holding on tight to his lighter with his hands up with to protect his face as if that’s going to do anything to stop this thing from ripping him to shreds, but then suddenly there’s a squelching thwack and then an awful ear-splitting screeching and there’s nothing holding Eddie down anymore. He opens his eyes and sees Steve beating the thing with a flaming tree branch and Nancy grabbing an equally large not flaming stick to join in while everyone else rushes over to check that Eddie’s okay. And then Steve warns Nancy to back up and throws the vodka bottle at the demo-thing and lights it fully on fire

It takes a bit for it to burn and Eddie to remember how to stand back up, but by the time he does, Eddie’s adrenaline is still running wild and he’s floating on the natural high that comes with narrowly escaping death. He tells the kids he’s fine and gets up and then turns to Steve and starts heading toward him while he laughs and gushes, “That was incredible. I was sure I was sure I was a goner and then there you were just casually pulling off the most badass move I’ve ever seen out of anyone. Seriously dude. That was awesome. I swear I could kiss you right now.” Which he emphasizes by grabbing Steve’s face in both hands and then planting a quick dramatic kiss on him and he only really realizes what he’s done in front of everyone after he’s already let go of his face so he quickly rushes to add, “Seriously, I could kiss all of you right now” but then nope, that’s not a good cover either and he realizes as soon as the words are out of his mouth, so he quickly adds, “I mean not any of you kids because that’d be weird, but” and thankfully Robin chimes in with “I’m good without” and Nancy quickly adds that she is too so Eddie doesn’t have to start kissing all of his friends near his age just to try to cover for the whole heat of the moment kissing Steve before thinking it through thing. And Steve hasn’t hit him, so that’s a good sign that he might get out of this with people just assuming this is another one of his eccentricities and nothing serious

The kids and Nancy just assume that the kiss was just an extension of his dramatics and that he thought it would be funny. Robin is onto Eddie, but not about to say anything about it. Steve’s too busy with his internal huh, okay… apparently I like that to even start considering Eddie’s motives until long after the kiss has actually happened

[qprstobin]

Stobin Different First Meeting AU where they go to prom together. This was meant to be an au post and turned into a mini fic oops (written completely within a tumblr post so sorry for the poor quality)

(edit: realized I should link the fic I was inspired by for those who don't follow me and so didn't see me reblog it earlier)

Steve doesn't necessarily want to go to prom, right? Like yeah, he'd been imagining it for a while, but now that he was very, very single it just didn't have the same shine that it used to. And he really wasn't ready to start dating yet. However, he didn't want to just, not go to prom, and also knew it would seem really weird (and pretty fucking sad) if he didn't go.

Which leaves him in a conundrum.

He thought for a while that maybe he would go with one of the junior cheerleaders. While he didn't have any close friends anymore, he was still friendly with plenty of people. There were girls that wouldn't be going to prom unless they had a senior boyfriend - some he had even gone on dates with in the past who wouldn't think a single prom date meant that he wanted a new girlfriend.

However, he is pretty sure most of those girls would have... other expectations for the night. And honestly? He isn't quite sure that he was ready to get back on that horse either.

... Not that he thought women were horses.

He's pretty sure men are normally the ones called horses in riding metaphors.

Anyway.

That left him stuck. He couldn't just not go to prom, but also didn't want to wind up trapped on an actual date with someone. So who could he ask?

His solution ended up coming from an odd place.

Robin Buckley was... quite honestly, kind of a weirdo.

She was cute, in an alternative sort of way. She never took any of his shit (he wasn't completely sure she even liked him) but also reluctantly laughed at the snarky shit he said under his breath during their Film History class. And not in the fake giggly way girls did when they were flirting, but didn't actually care about what he was saying, just the way he said it. She actually seemed to think he was funny. Even if that revelation seemed to piss her off.

The only reason he was even in Film History that semester - and therefore, knew who she was - was for the easy A. He got to watch movies in class, and watch movies for homework. He was willing to plow through a couple of shitty essays in exchange for a class that he didn't feel like a complete idiot in.

(Well, he was pretty sure Robin thought he was an idiot about movies, but just because he had trouble remembering the names and shit of characters, didn't mean he couldn't analyze the themes, fuck you very much, Buckley.)

They had gotten assigned a project together early on, and it hadn't been completely terrible. She had quickly taken over doing most of the writing portions, but hadn't thought all of his ideas were terrible. By the end of the project he thought they were even sort of having fun together.

He'd always been one to try his luck, take a little more than he was given. So, after that assignment was over, he started sitting next to her in class, not wanting that easy, if sharp, camaraderie to end. Robin rolled her eyes at him and asked him what he thought he was doing the first time he did it, but she never sent him away.

They ended up chatting more and more during down times, passing notes to each other and sharing sly comments under their breaths during the movies. Steve often had trouble paying attention at school, his mind easily wandering away, and it was almost as bad during most movies, but Robin helped keep him on track.

The class turned into one that was done for the easy grade, a last ditch effort to improve his already hopeless GPA, and became one he actually enjoyed.

The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of going to prom with Robin. It made the night seem a little less unbearable.

He thought about making a big deal out of asking her, because he knows that's what girls (and even Nancy) had enjoyed for past dances. He quickly scrapped that idea, however, because not only did he not want to put pressure on her like that, but also she seemed to hate public spectacles like that.

Or at least when aimed at her, they both enjoyed watching drama unfold in the halls a bit too much to say she hated it completely.

So Steve waits until the end of the day, their film class being their last, to pull her into an empty classroom. She follows him without question in a show of trust he didn't realize she had in him. The notion warms him, and for some reason makes it more difficult to get the question out.

"Why do I feel like you're about to try to sell me drugs or something?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He squints at her in offense.

"Why is that your first assumption?!"

"I don't know! Why else are you pulling me out of the hallway all secretive like, making sure no one followed us, into an abandoned classroom," she asks, throwing her arms into the air.

"The classroom isn't abandoned, it's the end of the day! Also, who does drug deals on campus, that's just stupid?" He asks rhetorically, before waving one hand through the air, as if trying to erase the current thread of conversation. "That doesn't matter, you're distracting me."

"Well then, get on with it! Some of us have practice we need to get to."

"It's like talking to the kids," he mutters to himself, "Whatever. I wanted to ask - will you go to prom with me?"

That stops Robin up short. There's panic in her eyes now, though Steve isn't sure what exactly put it there. Was his reputation that bad that even band geeks are terrified of getting asked out by him?

"You want to go on a date? With me?" she asks slowly, disbelief coloring her voice, though it doesn't hide her unease.

"No, I want to go to prom with you," he scoffs, "Not go on a date with you."

"That is a date, dingus! The person you go to prom with is literally called your date!"

"Okay, sure, maybe, but I don't actually want to date you," he said, rolling his eyes at her.

Like, okay, he understood his reputation for being... what did she call him last week? A 'huge effing rake'? But that didn't mean that he was trying to date any girl that looked in his direction. A lot of girls looked in his direction. That was too many women, even for him.

Robin relaxes a little at that.

"Then why are you asking me to prom instead of someone you actually want to date?"

"Because!" he says, resisting the urge to flail his hands back at her. "I don't want to date anyone right now. Most people I ask are going to expect all these things from me - they're going to want dinner, and at the very least a kiss at the end of the night if not more, or another date the very next day. Because Steve Harrington is supposed to want those things!" He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair to calm himself. "But right now? I really don't."

"Well then, what does Steve the Hair Harrington actually want?" She had relaxed fully at this point, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

"I want to go to prom with someone I consider a friend, someone who makes me laugh," he says after a moment of silence. "I want to dance badly to really corny pop music and drink just enough spiked punch that I don't remember how much I hate wearing any sort of tie. Then I want to go get milkshakes or go see a really trashy midnight horror flick, just because I'm having so much fun I don't want the night to end."

That small smile has grown into a reluctant grin on Robin's face. It makes her eyes shine and her freckles pop. Steve thought that if he was in a better place, if they had met at a different time, he could have fallen in love with her.

But they had met now instead, in some shitty public school elective course, and she was the closest thing he had to a friend that wasn't a snotty middle schooler.

"That sounds... like a lot of fun, actually," she says, mischief sparking on her face. "Who would've known the hidden depths hidden behind all that hair."

"Hey!" he protests half-heartedly, unable to keep a grin of his own off his face. "So what do you say? Wanna go to prom with me?"

"I guess," she sighs, acting like it was such a trial to go to prom with him. Him! But her next words make up for it. "Since we're friends, and all. However, I still expect you to buy me dinner, though you can keep the kiss goodnight to yourself."

Steve can't help the giddy laugh from spilling out of him. For the first time in weeks, he is actually looking forward to prom.

[sparks-olivarpente]

is Mike under Vecna's influence?

I read @brionysea 's post about possessiongate just before going to bed, had some weird dreams and woke up with too many thoughts. The idea here is that Mike was already possessed/influenced by Vecna for some time and that it explains his change of attitude. I'm NOT convinced at this point but it caught my imagination. As brionysea said here:

it's a supernatural horror coming of age story. things like will's ptsd and max's depression are turned into grandiose supernatural threats, but mike dealing with his sexuality in a heavily homophobic era (…) isn't? that would be a colossal waste of potential

Out of brionysea analysis, the points that stood out to me are: the Mindflayer hovering over the ball at the end of season 2, and the idea of Mike being used as a way to distract El from the UD.

The second thing certainly worked. Both Mike and El have been distracted in s3 and s4, and they're two of Vecna's "main enemies". People on tumblr have pointed out the fact that Mike, El and Will (as well as Hopper and Joyce) were conveniently away in s4 and that it could have been intentional for Vecna to wait for Mike's departure. And everyone here seem to agree that Mike's monologue to El was more distraction than help. Also, it is a fun idea: turning the "they get together and are happy ever after" into the catastrophic thing that almost destroys everything… Vecna would approve.

As for the first thing, the Mindflayer hovering over the ball, I've been wondering since s2: why was the Mindflayer spying on them and how could he do that since the gates where closed (post lab, but before the russians)? But then the gates don't seem necessary for spying between dimensions (Vecna does cast his curse on Chrissy without any gate being opened, right?) I also used to think it has something to do with Will's link to the UD. Poor kid has been eating UD slugs and Mindflayer black matter after all. If someone has been acting like some kind of portable door to the UD, it's Will. But Vecna's focus being on Mike rather than Will (or El) would be an interesting plot twist.

I don't see him being possessed the way Will or Billy where, it would be something like Vecna's curse, something intangible. Vecna subtly influencing Mike, playing on his REAL doubts and fears (Vecna's curse is interesting because of the internal struggles, because his victims believe Vecna's truths on some level, because they don't see his influence before it's too late)

Here I'm having a thought for all the viewers who think Mike and El are a cute couple… Or that Mike is just an idiot teen… realising it was Vecna's doing all along…

If Vecna was somehow using and influencing Mike it would give a different weight to his confusion, his change of behavior after s2, his difficulties to put words on his feelings (I've never thought too much about that because people DO change and it IS difficult to put words on things for many people, but some here have pointed out how Mike was actually quite good at that on occasions)… It would mean Mike will have to fight back in s5 the way Max did. I'd love to see that.

I can't decide if it's a good idea, or if Mike's struggles are more meaningful if they happened out of Vecna's influence. Maybe the later because as Eddie said, forced conforming, "That's The Real Monster." My favorite theory at the moment is that Mike is not YET under Vecna's influence but that it will happen. That Mike trying to conform was first a choice he made, influenced by his family, his friends, society, guilt maybe… and that it will become a weapon Vecna uses second. That poor Mike sealed his fate during that dreadful monologue he was pushed to make by his own past choices and the person that loves him best ;____;

[suddencolds]

insatiable appetite [1/?]

sooo... this is one of the thirstiest things i have written—and also one of the only times i've written a character with the kink, ever T.T warnings in advance for mess, character getting sneezed on, implied contagion, possible ooc-ness, & me writing this entirely with my d instead of my head

ivan and till are from al//ien sta//ge (a very fun watch which will only take 30 mins out of your life; i really recommend it!!). that said, this fic takes place in a modern au setting, so feel free to read it without any prior context :)

special thanks to @6pmsoup for sending me a very cute alnst doodle of these two which altered my brain chemistry permanently

—

Summary: Till shows up to a dinner outing with a brewing cold. Ivan suffers. (est. relationship, kink!Ivan, ~2k words)

—

For all Till tries to hide it, Ivan can tell immediately.

There’s this: Ivan has been paying attention to Till for most of his life. A full decade before they’d gotten together officially, and some more—this is how long Ivan has had to observe his tells. Always from the sidelines, always with a detached air of indifference that, in reality, was anything but.

All the signs are there the night before. Till, turning up the thermostat a couple degrees higher than he usually keeps it. Spending a little too long in the shower and using up almost all of the hot water. Clearing his throat one too many times in the morning before Ivan leaves for work, his smile distracted, the rasp of his voice nearly indistinguishable—but only nearly.

Now, Till is here for dinner—it’s a dinner they’ve had plans for a couple weeks now, at one of the nicer restaurants downtown, in celebration of Till’s recent promotion. Ivan had booked the reservation a couple weeks in advance.

When Till arrives, stepping out of a taxi cab, he’s wearing a scarf, even though the weather is too warm for it. Ivan steps up to meet him. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Till says. “Traffic here was the worst I’ve ever seen it, swear to god.”

“Was it cold outside today?” Ivan asks, a little pointedly, tilting his head towards his scarf.

Till looks at him, his expression unreadable. Then he nods. “Colder than usual, for this time of year.”

“Strange,” Ivan says, just to be difficult. “But the weather forecast says it’s the same temperature today as yesterday.” 

“It’s probably just windier today,” Till says, readjusting his scarf around his neck. His face is a little flushed.

“Your voice sounds a little off, though.”

Till clears his throat with a scowl. “You must be imagining it,” he says. “It always sounds like this.”

No admission, then. That’s fine. Ivan will get the truth out of him at some point. He lets Till guide him into the restaurant.

It’s a nice restaurant—worth the hassle of the reservation, Ivan thinks. Each table is set with flowers arranged tastefully in long glass vases, empty wine glasses turned on their heads. The server—who leads them to their table in a small, private booth—is wearing a suit.

It’s a shame, really. Ivan has a feeling that he won’t be able to pay attention to any of that tonight.

They sit. Ivan looks down at the menu, picks out something at random in a matter of seconds. Truthfully, he can hardly think of anything less worth his attention right now. He turns his attention to Till instead—Till, who’s seated directly across from him, the scarf still around his neck, obscuring the lower half of his face. 

Till sniffles, reaching down to turn the page, and oh. The sniffle is terribly liquid—has he been sniffling like that all afternoon? Perhaps it’s a good thing that they work at different offices—Till at a law firm, Ivan as a senior manager at a consulting company—because Ivan certainly doesn’t think he’d be able to get any work done with Till sniffling like that. 

It’s not two minutes later that Till is reaching up to wipe his nose against the back of one knuckle. All in all, it’s discreet. Just a quick brush of the fingers against his nose, which is still hidden under the scarf. Though, the look of sheer ticklishness that passes over his features for a brief moment there is...

“What are you thinking of ordering?” Ivan asks.

“I can’t decide,” Till answers. He turns the page again. “It’s between the ribeye steak and the… snf! The pork belly. Is this the kind of place that skimps on the portion sizes?”

“Not from their Yelp reviews,” Ivan says. “You know, if you really can’t decide, I can flip a coin.”

“I’ll pick,” Till says. “Why? Hungry already?”

He looks up, now. His eyes are a little watery. There’s a faint flush over the bridge of his nose. Ivan thinks that if he reached out and touched him, he’d probably be running warm. The thought is almost unbearable.

“Your taxi did take forever to arrive,” Ivan says, by way of explanation. 

“Did you really wait that long?”

He looks uncertain, for a moment. Ivan says, “Not at all. But you know, I’m always impatient when it comes to you.”

Till rolls his eyes, but it’s fond. “There was a meeting that ran late. I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“Is that also a part of your new position?” “I guess so, yeah.”

“I can see why they were eager to promote you, then,” Ivan says. “How productive can late afternoon meetings be, anyways?”

Till snorts. “Not that important. It definitely could have been an email instead. I was about ready to doze off.”

He sniffles again. “Okay. I think I know what I want.” The way he says know betrays the slightest hint of congestion. 

“At long last,” Ivan says, just to be a little bit of an ass. “I’ll call over the waiter.”

He flags their waiter down, waits for Till to order first.

“A spiced apple cider,” Till adds on, at the end, with the slightest of coughs. “Hot, if you can.”

That’s new, too. Till seldom orders hot drinks at restaurants, though he’ll drink tea without complaint if it’s offered. Perhaps his throat hurts, then, from the cold that has clearly started to settle in his system. Subtle, still, but Ivan is familiar with colds like this. He knows it will probably only be a few hours before this deceptively “small” cold turns into…

Ivan orders, too, and thanks the waiter, who leaves with a curt nod. When he looks back over to Till, there’s a… strange something to Till’s expression, a slight distractedness. Irritation.

Ivan swallows hard. He should look away. 

He should, but then, Till’s breath hitches. He pulls the scarf higher over his face preemptively, as if he anticipates having something to have to cover for. The sharp intake of breath that follows is breathy, though Ivan can hear Till’s voice in it. He should really look away.

Instead, he takes the scene in, painstakingly, little by little, as Till’s shoulders jerk forwards. As Till presses a hand to the scarf, presses the fabric closer to his face, to muffle a sneeze into his fingertips:

“hhH-Ih!! hiHH-’IESCHH-eew-!”

God. It sounds utterly miserable, the harsh release of it scraping against his throat, the spray tearing into his scarf. It’s the kind of cold sneeze that is undeniably telling: this is going to be one hell of a cold. It’s not very quiet, either, even muffled into the fabric.

For more reasons than one, Ivan is glad they’re in a private corner of the restaurant, not somewhere more public.

“Bless you,” he offers, once he can trust himself to speak. It’s a good thing that Till is too distracted to look up at him right now. Ivan isn’t sure he can keep what he’s feeling off of his face.

Truthfully, he isn’t sure he’s going to be able to endure a whole night of this.

The problem here is that Till—Till, of all people; Till, who Ivan has been pathetically in love with for almost as long as he can remember—has no idea about Ivan’s… relatively niche interests. That is to say, he has no idea what effect it has on Ivan when he does that.

“Thanks,” Till says, a little stuffily. He sniffles again, lowering his hand. 

Ivan can’t help it. He knows he shouldn’t pursue this line of questioning, but he can feel his self-control dwindling by the second. “Don’t you think it would be better to take off your scarf, now that we’re inside?”

Till freezes. “Y-You know what,” he says evasively. “It’s pretty cold in here.”

Ivan tilts his head in question. “And just how do you plan on eating like that?”

“I’ll take it off when our food comes.”

“I can ask the waiter to turn the temperature up, if it’s a problem,” Ivan says. 

“It’s not a problem.”

Ivan rises from his seat. Till watches him, perplexed, as he heads to the opposite side of the table, where Till is seated.

When he gets there, he stops. Stands, unmoving, so he can study Till from above. 

“What are you—”

Ivan reaches out, settles his palm across Till’s forehead. As expected, it’s warm. Not quite feverish, which is a good sign, but warm enough to be notable. 

“Just how long were you intending to hide this?”

Till stares back at him, wide-eyed. “Hide what?”

Shouldn’t it be obvious? “The fact that you have a cold.”

“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning,” Till says, slowly.

“Hmm.” Ivan drops his hand to his side. He is a little concerned, now. “We could’ve called a rain check.”

This time Till really does roll his eyes. “For the reservation we planned weeks ahead?” he sniffles again. “That just sounds completely and utterly unnecessary. Are you the type of person to call things off just over a little cold?” 

Ivan leans over, tugs down the edge of Till’s scarf. Till bats his hand away just a moment too late, cups his other hand over his face to shield his face from view. For a moment, he looks faintly mortified.

Then his expression settles into something more disgruntled. “What are you doing?” he hisses.

So uncooperative. “Let me see,” Ivan says. Slowly, gently, he pries Till’s hands away from his face, and then—because the restaurant is dimly lit—tilts Till’s face up slightly so that it catches more of the overhead light. 

Till’s nose is redder than usual. He’s probably been rubbing it all afternoon, if the redness that percolates into his cheeks is any indication. There’s  a damp, liquid sheen on the underside of his nose.

“What’s there to see?” Till says, a little crossly.

“Your face, since you’ve been so intent on hiding it under that scarf,” Ivan says, leaning in to get a better look.

Till scowls at him, but there’s no heat to it. “You see my face every day.”

“On the contrary, I don’t see it nearly enough,” Ivan says. “And you hardly ever get sick. Is it so wrong for me to be concerned?”

Without looking, he reaches behind him with one hand to grab a couple cocktail napkins. The other hand he keeps held up to Till’s cheek. 

But then, Till’s breath hitches. “Wait,” he says. Panic flashes through his face. “Ivan, move, I—”

Oh. Well, seeing as there’s no way he’ll be able to get the napkins over in time, it looks like he’ll have to improvise. If Till wants to cover, Ivan can help with that. He moves his hand to cup it loosely over Till’s mouth. Not a second too late, it seems. Till jerks forward unceremoniously, his nose twitching, his eyes squeezing shut.

“hHheh-! HHh’EIITShHh’yYiew!” he gasps sharply. Two? “Hh-! hHiiH’DSSCSSHh-IIew!”  

The jolt of the sneezes is practically electrifying—all of that force, brought to an abrupt halt behind Ivan’s waiting palm. He feels the expulsion of air against his skin, the warmth of Till’s breath, feels the slight dampness behind his hand as the spray mists over his fingertips.

Ivan swallows, hard. Thank god it’s so dark here, otherwise Till might notice what this is doing to him. 

“Bless you,” he says, withdrawing his hand at last to wipe it on one of the cloth napkins. It comes out slightly raspier than he intends it to, though perhaps it’s a miracle that he’s still able to talk at all. “Some cold, hmm?” Belatedly, he hands Till the stack of napkins.

Till practically snatches them from him, turns aside to blow his nose wetly into the top few. The way he sniffles afterwards suggests that his nose is still very much running. 

“Do you have no self preservation? It’s as if you want to catch this,” Till says, drawing back with another sniffle.

Oh, Ivan thinks, fighting back a shiver. That would be far from the worst thing.

[maldupay]

fuck i need to replay isat because i cant remember anything but um something something siffrin's increasingly concerning comments through the acts on losing his appetite -> getting violently hungry -> having tear induced nightmares about cannibalizing his friends

[casa-delle-galline]

It’s so funny how I went from not understanding the appeal of ZeLink in BoTW, to absolutely bawling my eyes out about Link and Zelda in ToTK living together and Link buying a dream house which is normally made for couples and families and is way bigger than the Hateno house.

I don’t think I’ve loved ZeLink this much since Spirit Tracks and Skyward Sword.

1. ST ZeLink (ALWAYS, NO QUESTION)

2. SS ZeLink (plus Groose, because it feels wrong to leave him out)

3. ToTK ZeLink

That will be all.

[literallymikewheeler]

"they are probably ignoring my texts on purpose...."

no actually !! they are currently staring at their wall and thinking about the fact that mike hates getting videos or photos taken of him but when they went trick-or-treating in season 2, mike let will video him the entire. night.

[missjashin]

Steve spending the night at Eddie’s because his parents are home and they’ve been arguing so he doesn’t really wanna be at home. Didn’t go to Robin because her parents might not let him stay the night and also Robin has work tomorrow and Steve doesn’t. The odd case of them not having shift together.

So he ends up with Eddie and in the morning he is having breakfast with Eddie and Wayne and they discuss their plans for the day. Eddie and Wayne have some plans for the day. You know, to spend some quality family time maybe? Or maybe they have just some errands to run, stuff to figure out because of all the shit that went down during spring break.. Whatever, they have plans for the day and Steve.. doesn’t want to intrude any more than he already is so he is not going with them. Even when they say he can come too.

And it’s summer time so the kids are busy with whatever the teens are busy with. And Steve loves them dearly and loves spending time with them but he tries to give them space and not smother them with his worrying so yeah he can’t spend the day with them either. They’ll come to him if they need him.. He could always go bother Robin at work but going to your work place on your free day because you have nothing better to do sounds a little sad.. So maybe he’ll just have to suck it up and go back home then.

But then Eddie offers that he could stay. You know he doesn’t have to leave just because Wayne and Eddie do. Like he could stay, it’s fine. They’ll be back by 6 or so and they could have dinner together then? And since Steve really really really doesn’t want to go home right now he accepts (after asking about thousand times if it’s really okay tho).

So soon he is left alone with a “Feel free to educate yourself with my music collection while we’re gone” and see you laters. Steve didn’t really have any plans for today and he kinda left in a hurry too so he didn’t bring much stuff with him but oh well he’ll figure something out.

He starts collecting the breakfast dishes and well he could wash them. He has the time and it would be just nice little gesture since the Munsons let him stay and all. And then it just makes sense to wipe the counters and the table after that. Like who would wash the dishes and then just leave crumbs all over the place? Oh. And I guess he just got some of those crumbs to the floor now. Well it’s just a quick little sweep. Could vacuum the whole place now too since he started. But first he needs to declutter a bit because goddamn Eddie why are your clothes and books just everywhere. Might as well do some laundry while he’s at it.

When Eddie and Wayne come back home around 6pm the place they’re in for a quite a shock. Not only is the place spotless but they’re greeted with the smell of food as well. “Oh you’re back! I’m making dinner, it’s just about done” Steve welcomes them enthusiastically but start to doubt himself a little after seeing the surprised faces. “I.. hope that’s okay”

Only then Steve realizes he may have got little carried away with his cleaning spree. Like maybe cleaning the windows was a tad bit too much.. Ugh he so hopes they’re not too weirded out.. Honestly he didn’t even realize he basically spent all day doing household chores that and it’s not even his own house. He glad the Munsons don’t comment on it too much tho, other than “you didn’t have to” and slightly awkward thank yous.

They start eating and now they drown Steve in compliments. (“Wow this is so good, what brand is this?” “Uhm.. it’s not a-.. I made it” “…Like from scratch?!” “Yeah..” “Holy shit dude this is seriously so fucking delicious” “Language. But he is right son, this is fucking delicious”)

At some point during dinner Wayne makes a comment about it starting to rain and Steve lets out a shocked gasp “my laundry!” and rushes out to collect it from outside where he hung it to dry. Wayne asks amusedly if Steve is a housewife or something, just ready to crack little jokes there but then spots the dopey smile on his nephew’s face, gaze still lingering in the doorway where Steve run off to. He smiles knowingly at Eddie when he finally looks back at him, now starting to blush and trying to stammer some sort of reply.

Steve comes back in and they finish dinner and hang out a bit together until Steve and Eddie go to Eddie’s room. Steve again apologizes because he got so carried away and hope he didn’t cross any lines. Eddie little amusedly asks if Steve really thinks they’d be mad at him for tidying up the place? Just helping them out a little so they can relax? Like in all seriousness, after all that shit show that happened during spring, Wayne could use a little break and just relax.

(“And you couldn’t?” “Well sure I could, but in this case he needs it more. If you haven’t noticed I’m not much of help in the cleaning department” “Oh yeah, I’ve noticed” “Hey!” “What? You asked!”)

Eddie then asks if Steve “educated himself” with the music. Steve tells to educate him himself. Eddie takes that as a challenge.

Steve spends the other night.

[melit0n]

EUCLID ANALYSIS.

Told you guys it was coming, didn't I? I apologise that this has taken a bit longer than expected, my mental health hit me like a bullet train, but I do hope it's sufficient.

Part one -> You're already here!

Part two -> Line by line analysis part 1

Part three -> Line by line analysis part 2

Part four -> Musical/intrumental notes

Part five -> The Night in Sleep Token

Part six -> Conclusion

Please note this is a general analysis. Although I do go into theories, both my own and others, this is just general thoughts. Also note when I speak of Vessel, I mean Vessel as a character, not the person, unless I specifically state so.

Tagline: @rilllvri @a-s-levynn @fivewholeminutes @euclidsvessel @tonguetyd @moonchild-in-blue @kkarmatic @branches-in-a-flood

+ Some people were worried about spam liking/reblogging the last time I did one of these big analysis posts, and I want to say please don't worry about that! I get happy when I see the same users pop up liking and reblogging my work, because it means you're interested in this enough to go through the whole thing. Feel completely free to add your own thoughts, correct any errors I've made etc. As per usual, my DMs are completely open to anybody wanting to discuss ST <3

Let's start off with the basics. ‘Euclid’ is the anglicised version of the Greek name Eukleídes (Εὐκλείδης), mainly known via the ancient Greek mathematician Euclid of Alexandria, who is seen as the ‘father of geometry’, and most famous for his work on symmetry. Its general definition is something or someone who is renowned and or glorious (A) and the lesser known definition is something that is a copy of the same (B) (taken from Euclid’s ideas on symmetry), which we’ll come back to in a bit.

However, there is another Euclid in history that we’ll be referencing; Euclid of Megara. This Euclid, similar to our mathematician, was an ancient Greek Socratic (having been a pupil of Socrates) philosopher. I’ll be taking part of a text out of his Wikipedia article since his ideas have been explained thoroughly there.

(we'll be coming back to him soon)

First off, this is an incredibly interesting choice of name for a song. Outside of someone's maths and philosophy class, this name doesn't exist to most, so the fact it's been chosen at all is intriguing.

Vessel has shown time and time again he enjoys sometimes elaborate references in his art, an example being chemistry and biology in TPWBYT (most notable would probably be ‘Telomeres’), so, I think it would be easy to say that, whether it be a reference to Euclid the Mathematician or Euclid the philosopher, that said reference is understood and intended by Vessel.

So, let's start with our mathematician, shall we?

What I find interesting about Euclid of Alexandria is that his life and existence outside of his work on geometry is almost completely unknown. There's almost nothing known of him, as a person, other than where he spent half of his career (Alexandria; Egypt, hence his title), where he may have studied (Platonic academy) and a general idea of when he lived (around 300BC). What is known about this insanely famous man who created the foundations of symmetry is incredibly barebones. People take Euclid at face value for his work, just like Vessel (both as an artist, and a character).

Further, we, as listeners, don't have much of an understanding of who Vessel is other than being a mouthpiece of a deity known as Sleep, someone once human now grasping at the threads of humanity and someone sharing some of his struggles in life (both with Sleep and unknown people). Like Euclid, he is barebones, we take him at face value; a vessel. He is both a mouthpiece for Sleep, a mouthpiece for his own emotions (obviously) and a mouthpiece for us. His experiences transcend being just his, due to his anonymity, therefore allowing us to connect and express our own experiences. It's music for the sake of music; expression.

Now, having talked through Euclid as a person, it's time to talk about Euclid and his symmetry. Symmetry in shapes is 'reflections, rotations, translations, and combinations of these basic operations. Under an isometric transformation, a geometric object is said to be symmetric if, after transformation, the object is indistinguishable from the object before the transformation- a copy of the same’. So, of course, this means shapes like squares, rectangles, parallelograms and circles. Circles are a representation of infinity, wholeness, unity and loops. What does Euclid do? Loop itself (starts and ends with B major, which also happens to be the same chord that TNDNBTG starts with), and loops the three albums together, musically and lyrically.

Now, onto Euclid of Megara.

Euclid was born in Megara, Athens and was a follower of Socrates (sneaking into Athens to hear him speak, and he was also present during his death). He is most known for his philosophy that good is the knowledge of simply being and that the opposite of good does not exist, aka evil. The Good is described to be a perfect, eternal, and changeless Form, existing outside space and time. A form of Heaven without a God.

This idea could be linked lore-wise with Sleep Token; Sleep could, in a way, be The Good literally. Bliss. Further, with the idea that there is no actual opposite of good, then how can anything be bad? How can Sleep, as a deity, have bad intentions if there is no actual evil?

So far, with these two notable figures in mind, we can perceive Euclid as one of two ways (and there are more ways to come). Euclid can be seen as quite literally being a form of symmetry; a parallel that Vessel lays his life on because it brings all of the produced albums, all of his stories, together. Or, we can think of Euclid as Vessel. This brings me to @euclidsvessel's post on their theory on Euclid; what if Euclid was Vessel’s name before he became a vessel?

The theory that Euclid could be Vessel’s old name is not only extremely insightful, but very plausible as well. They explained their points very well in their original post, and I don't want to repeat what they’ve already said, so I do implore you to go read that! It's not detrimental to needing to understand this post, but I highly recommend it. Despite this, I am here to both support their argument and bring my own comparison. Take a look at the cover art for Euclid:

Let me repeat the lesser-known definition of Euclid; a copy of the same. A clone. A replacement. Held in the right hand is the decapitated head of Vessel's old (2nd gen.) mask. Specifically, the one that covers his mouth; the version that relinquishes the most amount of humanity. The album art is a representation of change portrayed in a symbolically gory way. Beheading, depending on the era you’re working from, symbolises both vengeance as well as a form of purification. By cutting off the head, you remove any ‘unholy’ thoughts. It's also among one of the most horrific and humiliating ways of killing someone (since it was typically done publicly, and sometimes the heads were placed on spikes of battlements as a warning).

Furthermore, there's a theory that's popped up a couple of times, lore-wise, that Vessel is not the first person to be turned into a vessel of Sleep, and he certainly won't be the last. So, considering the literal album art illustrates a replacement of Vessel, I’d say that theory is pretty much confirmed. In conclusion, the album art can either be interpreted as how Vessel will eventually be discarded and replaced by another vessel, or how Vessel himself will change, for better or for worse; clawing out of his own skin to become “someone new”.

So, to compare the idea of Euclid being Vessel’s old name, and to create the third perception of what or rather, who, Euclid is, what if Euclid will be the eventual replacement for Vessel?

[bumblingbabooshka]

[TUVOKTOBER: Day 15] At First Sight. [Patreon | Commissions]