#newscaster jim

[spooky-holtz]

I'll Be Home For Christmas

Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Genre: fluff (possibly alludes to smut at one point? If you squint?)

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I know Christmas was almost two weeks ago but this has been sitting in my drafts for weeks. So enjoy, even if my timing is a little off :)

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December. Quite easily the best and worst month of the school year. As another calendar year winds down, so do rigorous lesson plans, with most teachers at Abbott choosing to give in to the growing excitement among the students as the holidays draw nearer. 

Less time is spent actually teaching and a lot of allocated lesson time is spent watching movies on huge, outdated TV screens, students gathered around the devices on Eagles rugs that were so generously ‘donated’ by Melissa earlier that year.  

As the month goes on you find yourself spending more time inside your classroom, herding the group of preteens that make up the school choir as successfully as you would herd cats. Needless to say, it’s been a stressful few weeks of carol singing and rehearsals, trying to convince a group of kids that it’s not ‘lame’ or ‘cringe’ to appreciate music the way you do.  

As the resident music teacher at Abbott Elementary, you find it incredibly difficult to get young people inspired in the way you so desperately want them to be, often having to let go of the talent you see among some aspiring young musicians for reasons outside of your control. Though the budget doesn’t stretch to allow much in the way of extracurricular activities, choir practice is the one activity where you have your greatest tool already at your disposal; your voice.  

As much as you adore these kids, getting them to concentrate after a full day of learning is no easy feat, with them often choosing to sit around in groups gossiping or scrolling on Tik Tok rather than join you around the old piano that stands in place of a desk in your classroom, where you sit on your creaky stool, waiting for them to join in with you.  

After a particularly difficult lunchtime choir practice in the middle of December, you find your feet carrying you to the sanctuary you often retreat to during your breaks: the teachers’ lounge. You trudge along the hallway, the heels of your sneakers squeaking slightly against the polished concrete floor as you struggle to find the motivation to get you there, dragging your feet along the floor.  

As your hand wraps around the handle and you pull the door toward you, you’re instantly engulfed with the scent of burnt coffee and the sound of chatter as the little groups that sit around the room carry on their conversations, entirely too distracted to notice the door opening.  

Jim Gardner addresses the room from the small TV that sits on the opposite end, his newscast largely going unnoticed by the audience as they munch on leftovers or pore over today's newspaper. Much like Jim, your entry into the room goes unnoticed save for a pair of emerald eyes that you can’t help but glance toward.  

Melissa is already looking back at you over the rim of her glasses, phone in hand, the slight frown on her features already telling you that she’s noticed the lack of energy you carry. You can’t help but be drawn toward her, almost as if being pulled in by an imaginary force. She’s already pulled the empty chair by her side out by the time you reach her, and you collapse down on to it, sighing heavily, leaning your elbows forward onto the cold surface of the table in front of you for support.  

“Choir practice really that bad today, huh?” she asks, sympathy laced across her face.  

“I swear, these kids are turning me grey even faster,” you groan, bringing your hands up to cradle your forehead, “I mean, seriously, how hard is it to get through ‘Silent Night’ without laughing at the word ‘virgin’?” 

The silence that comes from the redhead is deafening as you turn your head slightly in your hands to catch a glimpse of her expression. Her lips are pursed slightly, and her eyes are a little too focused on your hair, doing everything she can to avoid eye contact; a telltale sign that she’s fighting back a laugh. When she finally reaches enough composure to meet your eye line, she can’t help but snicker.  

The sound makes you take your head out of your hands and throw her the most unimpressed look you can muster, though it’s a halfhearted glare.  

“I’m sorry,” she begins to apologize, “but that word was probably the funniest thing ever when I was that age too. Cut them a little bit of slack.”  

Great, so not only do your students think you’re a ‘nerd’ for making them sing carols but Melissa does too. Because having the woman you have an enormous crush on think that is exactly what you needed to round out your year.  Almost as if she can sense your descent into overthinking, Melissa breaks the silence.  

“Hey, I’m just messing with ya,” she says. She reaches forward, pulling you out of your spiral, and rests her hand on the thigh that sits closest to you, patting gently. “Besides, you’re cute when you’re grumpy.”  

Your eyes dart to hers at the comment and you’re met with a wink. The simple move turns you into putty, melting you to bend to her will. Her hand burns through the material of your slacks where it still lays against your thigh, her thumb rubbing gentle circles in an effort to soothe you. You’re sure your face is matching that same level of heat that radiates from it.  

She smiles back softly before turning back to her phone, leaving her hand resting against the patterned material you wear. The contact grounds you and helps you to think a little more rationally. While she’s distracted on her phone, you reach forward onto the table to grab Melissa’s worn Stanley Tucci mug and steal a swig of the steaming black coffee that sits within. The harsh flavor makes you wince, with you preferring your coffee with milk and an obscene amount of sugar to make it even barely drinkable. The expression you wear causes Melissa to giggle, the redhead having looked up almost knowing that your face would be a picture of extreme disgust.  

As she laughs the hand on your thigh squeezes and she leans into you, the lines around her eyes accentuated by the deep laugh that’s taken over her being. You decide that this is the most beautiful version of Melissa you’ve ever seen. Carefree, happy, and relaxed.  

The moment comes to an abrupt end as Barbara enters the room, both you and Melissa turning to the creaking door as it opens. Her eyes naturally fall to your table, much as your own do when you enter the teachers’ lounge, and her gaze lingers on you before she speaks up, barely giving herself a chance to sit down.  

“Oh sweetheart, you look terrible,” she says, concern laced across her features. She’s not wrong. You know the bags under your eyes are worse than ever, having forgone sleep to choose which Christmas carols are least likely to make a room full of elementary schoolers insult you. You wish you had just chosen to sleep instead because every option you threw at your group of angels ended with nicknames being thrown right back at you.  

“See, I told you that you looked bad,” Melissa says, the playful glint in her eye accompanied with the squeeze of your thigh letting you know she’s kidding.  

“You look like you need this Christmas break,” Barbara adds, “Actually, why don’t you come to the little shindig Melissa and I have here on the last day? Get that break started early for you.”  

It’s worrying how quickly you accept the invitation but Melissa’s hand on your thigh paired with the musky smell of her perfume makes it impossible to decline.  

“Of course, I’ll come! Do I need to bring anything?” You ask.  

“Nothing at all, we’ve got it all covered,” the older teacher replies. “Just bring your dancing shoes.” 

You’ve visibly relaxed at the prospect, which doesn’t go unnoticed by your company. While you’re distracted taking another, albeit smug, sip of Melissa’s coffee, Barbara shoots the redhead a knowing look, quirking her eyebrow as she does so. For a split second, Melissa turns the same shade of red as her hair, caught out by Barb and the confession of a pretty obvious crush she gave a few weeks ago. She quickly manages to regain her composure, hand still resting on your thigh and phone still in hand.  

You would think that a full week later, after hours of Christmas songs later, that you would be sick of carols. But you still find yourself sitting in the teachers’ lounge long after the rest of the faculty has left the building on the final day of school before winter break, with your usual duo and the addition of Mr Johnson. The room is filled with a warmth that doesn’t just come from the school’s subpar heating system, but instead from the situation you find yourself in.  

You feel a slight buzz from the copious amounts of wine you’ve consumed since the end of the school day, your stomach lined with Melissa’s incredible cooking and sweet treats brought in by Barbara. You feel that Mr Johnson is in the same boat as you as he mills around the room, plastic cup filled with what you can only assume is even more wine, swaying by himself to the record that plays from the relic of a radio that sits on one of the many cabinets in the room.  

Your attention is immediately drawn elsewhere when Melissa’s cackle fills the room, her and Barb sharing stories that they’ve no doubt already told each other a few dozen times over the years. You completely miss the anecdote, but you still can’t help a smile from breaking out on your face at the sound of laughter, the noise acting like music to your ears – it’s far better than anything that could possibly be played on that radio right now.  

Almost as if by cue, the pair finish their story and the older of the two decides to rise from her chair, beckoning to you as she does so.  

“Come on, I wanna start to shake my groove thing,” says Barbara, already swaying slightly from the few glasses of wine she’s consumed herself. You raise your eyebrows, incredulous, matching her action and standing from your chair yourself, moving further from the security of the table as a swing version of “Jingle Bell Rock” continues playing. “I need a dance partner and you’re the perfect height so get yourself over here.” 

She doesn��t give you a chance to respond before her hands quickly mold you into shape, moving one of your own to her hip whilst the other grips your open palm.  

“Wow Barb, at least buy a girl a drink first,” you grin as she swats at your shoulder, giggling along herself. The bells on the front of her extremely festive bright red sweater jingle as she does so. The swaying of your ‘dance’ lasts for a mere few seconds before Barbara interrupts it herself.  

“Melissa, I think we may need to swap places,” she says as she glances at where Mr Johnson stands, eyes still closed and nursing his plastic cup of wine. “I have a feeling Mr Johnson may need some assistance.”  

Melissa mumbles her response as she comes nearer to you, seamlessly swapping places with the elder woman. You completely miss the wink that is thrown her way from Barb, eyes still focused on Mr Johnson’s one-man party.  

When you turn your head back to face in front of you, you’re naturally drawn to the bright green eyes that sit slightly below your eyeline. You feel your heart stutter in your chest at the sight, rarely getting to see them this close. It always baffles you how many shades of green, blue and brown come together to create a colour that can only be described as ‘Melissa’. You realize you’ve been staring a little too long when a change of song and her words break you from your thoughts.  

“Come a little closer, you can’t dance properly if you leave enough room for Jesus and the 12 disciples,” she says, her tone playful and smile wide. You can’t help but throw your head back in laughter as her hand snakes from your hip to the small of your back to bring you in closer. There's no mistaking who is leading who.  

When you bring your head back Melissa is considerably closer than before. She’s so close that you can see each individual eyelash under her thick layer of mascara and eyeliner, along with the slightly smudged edge of her lipstick, the deep red of the wine making the colour even richer. The smell of her musky yet floral perfume invades your senses as she looks up toward you. You move your hands from her shoulders to link together behind her neck, her red curls tickling your wrists.  

You can feel every slight movement she makes as Frank Sinatra croons at you both as you sway slightly in place, too scared to move too quickly in case you scare each other. Her thighs almost touch yours and your chests are almost entirely pressed together. You hope she can’t feel your heartbeat; the speed and intensity of it would almost instantly give away your feelings toward her. Her body this close to yours makes your head spin, your mind racing with possibilities of other situations you may find yourself this close to her in.  

You can feel every breath she lets out against your lips, making you aware of how little it would take to connect them with her own. You’re pretty sure she’s noticed too because of the way her eyes keep flicking down to look at them every few seconds. You can feel her hands burning a hole through the material of the shirt against your back. As if she can hear your thoughts, she moves them slightly lower, coming to rest against the waistband of your trousers and dangerously close to your backside. What you wouldn’t give for her to just bite the bullet and slide them into your back pockets to pull you impossibly closer to her.  

“You know, I, uh, never wished you a happy Christmas,” she breaks the tense silence, almost whispering as if anything too loud might startle you. “So Happy Christmas, Hun.”  

She wears a slight smile on her lips, suddenly dropping the hard exterior she always carries to become the softer, more vulnerable version of herself you’ve come to fall madly in love with.  

You can’t help but melt at the sight, your head dropping forward to lean your forehead against hers. She welcomes the move with ease, closing her eyes as you both sway slightly to the music, never moving from your position.  

“Happy Christmas, Mel.” 

[gorgon-goddess-of-chaos]

Blush

Usually I try to keep it pretty consistently in the 1920's, but for the sake of this fic, it's in modern times.

Damien x GN!Reader, TW: passing mention of alcohol Words: 465

You know that Damien would rather die than choose to air out his personal business, but you really wanted to show how much you appreciate him. Surely it can’t be too bad if you are just showing your love for him to the entire city, right? 

It took a bit to get all the information to the press, especially making them keep it under wraps until the day. You were basically buzzing with excitement, struggling to keep the smile off your face as you entered into his office with a bouquet of flowers. His face lights up when he sees you, looking up from his paperwork with a bouquet for you just beside him on his desk. Damien moves around his desk, exchanging flowers with a kiss to seal the deal. A tradition you’ve kept for every special shared occasion.

He sits back down at his desk as you sit yourself next to his papers, smiling down at him. All you get is a raised eyebrow as you make light conversation, continuously checking the time to see if it’s time yet. You sneak your hand across his desk, swiping his remote for his television in the corner. 

“Darling, what are you doing?”

“Nothing…”

With a wink, you turn on his television, and his face goes red.

“My little monster… what have you done now?”

You grin as the newscaster begins on the television behind you.

“Good morning, Jim! Today, we have a special message from our very own district attorney, wishing our mayor a very happy Valentine’s Day! This weekend, our mayoral office will be closed due to extended vacations taken by significant staff, so please postpone your lobbying until next week.”

He snatches the remote from you, turning it off before melting into a puddle of rouge. You ruffle his slicked back hair, earning yourself a polite shove off his desk before half-heartedly glaring at you from where you lay on the floor.

“I am going to get you for this, you know that, yes?”

“Oh I’m fully aware.”

You get up, but he spins you around by a grip on your waist and sends you flying into his lap. His eyes have that mischievous glint in them that only usually comes out when he’s had a bit too much to drink, but it’s far too early in the morning for that. He nips at the corner of your lips, pulling you into a hungry kiss, promising what will come later ten-fold.

“I hope you are glad you cleared our weekend.”

“I love you~!”

Damien sighs at your cheeky grin, softening and giving you a gentle kiss to your nose.

“I love you too.”

[posttexasstressdisorder]

Good night, good man.

[schrijverr]

I Found Myself a Cheerleader 10

Chapter 10 out of 28

Bumped to the lowest step on the social ladder after his fight with Billy, Steve gets roped in with the cheer team. What starts as a favor to help them out when one member breaks her leg in turn for protection from the brunt of the bullying, sets the universe on a different path.

In this chapter, with Starcourt behind them, they try to make it through, which is harder than it seems. Chrissy returns in time for Hopper’s funeral and catches Steve together with Robin, while Steve tries to catch the others.

On AO3.

Ships: eventual steddie and buckingham

Warnings: grief, injury, nightmares, child abuse mention

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Chapter 10: The Aftermath

Part of Steve expects to be send away by the Buckley’s the next day, having fulfilled their good Samaritan act for the boy that saved their daughter. However, when he awakes nearly fifteen hours later, it is to Mrs. Buckley – Daisy, sweetie, just Daisy is fine – giving him some soup and asking if he feels up to shower and if he eats anything particular for breakfast, because she still has to go to the store later.

Confused Steve stumbles through an answer, his body still feeling like it has gone through a meat grinder. Daisy gives him a smile and cards a soft hand through his hair, before giving him directions to the shower and telling him to ask Robin if he needs anything.

She leaves to do groceries and is replaced by Robin, who looks way better than Steve. She bounces into the room, sliding onto the couch next to Steve and asks: “How are you feeling, dingus?”

“Confused,” Steve answers. “Your mom is nice.”

“Yeah, she is,” Robin smiles. “I told them your parents are away on business and can’t be reached, but I’m afraid to let you go home by yourself. So, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

“Are you for real?” Steve asks, unable to imagine anyone opening up their home to him without having met him before. It sounds alien.

“I am, promise they’re cool,” Robin tells him with a soft smile. “Now, mom said you felt up to shower and no offense, Stevie, but you smell like sweat, blood and puke, which is like totally not a good smell. You’re excused of course, would be mean not to excuse it, seeing, you know, everything, but shower sounds smart. I’ll show you the buttons.”

She jumps up waiting for Steve to follow. Steve is a little slower, seeing he is more bruise than skin at this point.

The shower itself is painful. The water feels like it is beating down on his skin and the heat makes him lightheaded, but he can’t stand the cold. So, he takes it sitting on the floor of the shower. He washes his hair with Robin’s strawberry shampoo, remembering the smell from when they were tied together in the bunker. It gives him comfort.

Robin has lend him a set of her pajamas, a soft sweater and plaid pajama pants, as well as some fuzzy socks. It takes a bit to get them on, but in the end he feels more human than he has in the last 48 hours.

Dinner should be awkward, but it seems Robin has her rambling from her parents and the three happily fill the silence and let Steve disappear to the background.

With dinner done, the TV is turned on so they can watch the news. Both Robin’s parents protest, but they have to see. Have to be sure the mall is gone. That yesterday truly happened and they didn’t make it up.

So, the TV goes on and the newscaster tells them about the mall that burned down in a firework accident. That many bodies have been recovered, but not all can be identified. Among the confirmed dead are Jim Hopper, hero police chief, and Billy Hargrove.

Steve cries then. Cries for El, who lost her father, who is alone again. Cries for Joyce, who lost the man she could have had something with. Cries for himself and all the thing he never got to tell Hopper and all the things the other never said either. Even cries for Max, who will inevitably grieve for something that wasn’t real and a person who doesn’t deserve it.

Luckily, neither of Robin’s parents say anything about the tears and Robin holds him throughout it all, careful of his injuries.

After that he goes to sleep again on the couch, having gotten used to sleeping at one and not even bothered, despite Daisy’s apologies about it. It is the first night of a week in which he hides away from everyone in the Buckley house, safe with Robin by his side to keep both of them sane.

On the second day there he calls Joyce to check in with her. He told her he was going with the Buckleys that night at the mall, but checks in with her on Saturday anyway.

Quietly they talk about El, who has turned into herself, refusing to speak. How her powers aren’t working anymore and how she isn’t really coping. The poor kid has already been through so much and both Joyce and Steve wonder out loud to the other how they’re going to get her through this.

But after a few minutes neither can continue the topic they’ve been ignoring. It’s Joyce, who mentions it first, saying: “They’re burying Hopper this Tuesday. They- they don’t have a body, but…”

“I know,” Steve says, so she doesn’t have to. “What can I do?”

“They, uhm, they came here also for you,” she tells him. “Hopper wanted- he wanted you to be a pallbearer. You can say no, but-”

“No, no, I’ll do it,” Steve agrees easily. Of course he wants to help in Hopper’s funeral after all he has done for him, of course he wants to fulfill his wishes. “When do I have to be there?”

“At 10:00 AM,” Joyce answer, obviously grateful. “They’re reading his will too, El wants you to be there as well. It’s afterwards. Can you make it?”

“Of course,” Steve promises again, because he’d make all the time in the world for El, to support her after what she’s been through.

“Thank you, Steve,” Joyce sounds haggard and relived. “Bring whoever you want as support, it’s open to the public, so it’s probably going to be big. Lots of people. They wanted me to speak, but I- I can’t.”

Much to Steve’s horror, Joyce starts to cry. He is already bad with comfort and now he can’t even offer a shoulder like he usually does. Steve knows she doesn’t want to burden any of the kids with this, that she would usually go to Hopper about this, that Steve has to take his tasks now, but he’s still pulling a blank.

“It’s- it’s okay, Joyce,” he fumbles. “You don’t have to speak. He- he knows. He knew. You don’t have to say it for everyone.”

The words probably aren’t the best, but it’s what Steve can manage right now. And the words seem to help. A teary Joyce thanks him, before reminding him he’s welcome there any time. It’s a sweet sentiment, but Joyce has her own grief and that of El to deal with. Steve has a place to stay, he’ll be fine. She has to put her focus elsewhere.

So, he assures her he’s fine and to just focus on the people she has at home, before hanging up and going up to Robin’s room, crawling into her bed. He buries his face in her stomach and she plays with his hair as she reads her book, while he tries not to cry.

Robin has become his safe space, as he has become hers.

On the night from Saturday to Sunday he is awoken by Robin, who stands next to the couch, blanket wrapped around her shoulders tremble and she is crying as she softly confesses: “I- I had a nightmare.”

“Want to talk about it?” Steve asks, getting into a seated position, so that she can crawl on the small couch with him.

“I was in the bunker again and you were there, tied- tied to me and I kept calling your name, but this time- this time you didn’t wake up,” Robin is weeping now, burying her face in the crook of Steve’s neck on the less injured side. Her hand is over his heart, so she can feel his heartbeat. “I was tied to your dead body, all alone. I just- I just needed to check.”

“It’s okay, Robbie,” he assures her, nosing the top of her head and planting a kiss there. “I’m alive, I’m okay. We’re okay. We made it out.”

She lets out a shuddery breath and nods, repeating: “We made it out. We made it out.”

“Yeah, we did,” Steve encourages her. “Want to drink some tea or stay here a bit?”

“Some tea, please,” Robin says.

They get up, Steve leading Robin through her own house, where he himself has gotten comfortable in a short amount of time. He parks her on one of the kitchen chairs, but she abandons it in favor of sitting on the counter as Steve starts the kettle, pulling him between her legs as they wait for the water to boil. Just holding him.

Steve can’t remember the last time a person held him this often and tenderly. He melts into her, hugging her back.

The two of them exist like that, intertwined. Robin shuffles along as Steve pours them tea, then shamelessly sits on Steve’s lap as they sip the hot beverage. To distract herself Robin tells him all about this book she has been reading.

When the tea is gone, Steve asks: “Do you feel up to sleeping again, Robs?”

“Probably smart,” Robin says with a yawn, not really answering the question. She clings a bit more to Steve and mumbles: “Just don’t wanna be alone.”

“I- I could come with,” Steve offers, a bit unsure and not wanting to overstep a boundary.

Robin lights up at his offer and says: “You’re a genius, dingus.”

“Your parents won’t mind?” Steve asks, not wanting to get either of them in trouble.

“Nah,” Robin assures him, getting to her feet and grabbing his hand to pull him along.

Her bed is as comfortable at night as it is during the days when he crashed there. He is still injured, only able to sleep on his back and Robin is careful with his injuries, lying next to him and taking his hand. As they lay there together, she says: “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“Me too,” Steve responds. “Though I hate you got dragged into all the crazy with me.”

“I think it’s worth it,” Robin tells him and Steve gets too choked up to say anything, only able to squeeze her hand and she squeezes back.

It’s quiet for a few seconds, then Robin says: “If we were normal, this is where we’d confess our feelings for each other.”

Steve snorts, making a gagging noise that has Robin giggling as well. They lay there laughing for a bit more and when they try to sleep, thoughts of Russian bunkers are further away than thoughts of companionship and understanding.

Sunday passes in a haze. Steve calls all the kids, checking in on them. Mike hangs up after assuring him he’s fine, a bit in a foul mood, since his parents haven’t let him see the others. Lucas and Erica both talk to Steve a bit, neither of them mentioning the 4th and just talking of wanting to try out for basketball and wanting to learn DnD. Dustin talks with him for an hour, both of them crying. Will only speaks to for a bit. El doesn’t want to come to the phone, but Will assures him she’s okay, just going through a rough patch, which is an understatement. Max only says a few words, before hanging up quickly, a fight going on in the background.

Monday brings a new surprise to the Buckley doorstep. Steve is making lunch since Robin’s parents are off to work, so it is Robin who opens the door.

On the doorstep is Chrissy, looking stressed and haggard. Without preamble she starts: “Do you know where Steve is? Because I just came back from camp and I went by his house, because I heard he was at the mall when it burned down, but he didn’t answer and I’m really worried about him, because he always, always opens the door.”

Robin is about to answer when Steve comes wandering into the hall, asking: “Hey, Rob, do you like syrup on your pancakes or-” He looks up and sees Chrissy, smiling when he does: “Chris! I didn’t know you got back today.”

“Stevie,” Chrissy exclaims in relief, before her eyes grow wide as she takes in the state he’s in. She rushes into the house, brushing past Robin without a care as she cups Steve’s unbruised cheek with a concerned face, asking: “Oh my god, are you okay?”

And it is not the question itself that breaks Steve, it has been asked multiple times these last few days, but it is that it’s Chrissy. Chrissy, who has been nothing but sweet and kind to Steve, who has protected him, cheered him up, made sure he wanted to get to school. And even after Steve kind of brushed her off to hide that he has been kicked out, she is still so concerned for him. She went to Robin’s house to look for him.

Tears fall before he’s even aware of them and he crushes Chrissy in a hug that hurts his own ribs and maybe hers, but he doesn’t care, just happy to hold her again.

Chrissy makes a confused noise, however, she quickly moves to hug him back. Her wiry strength should not be underestimated as she sways them side from side, telling him that it’s all okay and to just let it out.

Robin latches onto his back, surrounding him with warmth from his two closest friends. And he cries, like he has done so much these past few days. He wants to stop, but he can’t, so he rides it out and hopes that Chrissy and Robin won’t let go until he’s done.

They don’t.

The three of them hug until Steve is done crying, ignoring the small wet patch on his back and how Robin also sniffles, before clapping her hands and leading them to the kitchen.

There is some batter left, so Steve makes pancakes for Chrissy as well, who hums appreciatively and says: “Steve, I missed your food. Camp food is terrible.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Steve smiles, the compliment warming him up from the inside.

None of them talk about the breakdown in the hall until the pancakes are gone. They just eat in silence and pile the dishes in the sink. It’s only when they’re sitting on the couch, their bellies full, that Chrissy asks: “What happened?”

Steve and Robin exchange a look, before Steve says: “I- I don’t really know. We were out late and closing up when we heard explosions, I suppose the fireworks, before we really knew it the whole mall was going up in flames around us.”

Robin jumps in, interjecting the made up hero story she told her parents: “We were like stuck in the shop and it was terrible. We couldn’t get out until a part of the front caved in and we could climb out. I got stuck and Steve pulled me out, but like a bunch of rubble fell on him. If he hadn’t had done it, well I- I might’ve-”

It’s getting a little too close to the truth now and Robin chokes up. Steve takes her hand and they smile at each other, a reassurance that they’re okay.

“Chief- Chief Hopper got us out,” Steve builds on the fiction they made. “He went back in to help and he- he didn’t-”

“Oh my god, that’s terrible,” Chrissy gasps, hearing their story with horror.

“The funeral is tomorrow,” Steve whispers. “They asked me to be pallbearer. They don’t have a- a body,” he swallows, “so it’s just going to be the casket. It’s ceremonial.”

“Do you want us to be there?” Chrissy asks and if Steve was straight he would've kissed her for offering so he wouldn’t have to ask.

“If you don’t mind,” he says softly, hoping she doesn’t.

Chrissy bumps her shoulder against his, a familiar move, and smiles: “Of course I don’t mind, Stevie.”

“Thank you,” he smiles back. He appreciates Chrissy so much, all she’s done for him, how she’s here for him without question. He feels bad about how he shut her out after the fight with his father, not telling her that he got kicked out. Another realization hits him and he says: “Fuck, I don’t have anything to wear tomorrow.”

“You don’t have a black suit?” Chrissy frowns.

Steve catches Robin’s wide eyes that ask ‘are you aware what you’re doing’ and he communicates back that he does, before answering: “I do, I just- well, I got kicked out by my parents. They changed the locks.”

“What!” Chrissy exclaims.

“Sorry for not telling you,” Steve says. “I didn’t want to worry you. It happened after graduation, remember that fight?”

“Holy shit, Steve,” Chrissy frowns. “That is terrible, I knew your parents were dicks, but this is a new low. What the hell? I’m going to fight them, I swear to God, I am, Stevie. Not a joke. They can’t just do that!”

Steve is touched by her anger on his behalf, but he is also realistic. He gives her a crooked smile and says: “I am an adult now, Chris. They can do that.”

“And what do you think of that?” Chrissy asks Robin, still full of righteous anger.

Robin looks a bit like a deer in headlights, eyes flitting between Chrissy and Steve. She stammers out: “Uh, I- I think they’re assholes?”

“See,” Chrissy tells Steve.

Steve quirks a brow at Robin, who glares at him in turn, before saying: “I already knew they were assholes, Chris. They just also have every right to kick me out if they want to.”

“I know you know that,” Chrissy huffs. “I’m just not going to let them get away with giving you nothing to wear to Chief Hopper’s funeral.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Steve asks, curious for her answer, since he has never seen her like this before.

“We’re going to break in,” Chrissy smiles mischievously.

“What?” Steve chokes.

“You can’t be serious,” Robin exclaims, eyes bulging out of her eyes.

“Come on, Stevie, you said yourself we have to try not to care right?” Chrissy pleads. “I’m sure you’ve snuck in from time to time, you must have a route. Everyone does. And it’s not like they’re going to be home to catch us.”

“I don’t know, Chris,” Steve says, even though he would love to grab a few things he forgot in his haste to pack that first time. It’s still risky.

Robin, however, seems to have gotten over her inhibitions and offers: “We can put shrimp in the air conditioning, give them a true surprise to come home to.”

“No,” Steve says. “We’ll break in, but no pranks.”

“Ugh, fine,” Robin rolls her eyes, while Chrissy just squeals in excitement.

So, Steve drives them to his old house in the car the government kindly brought over yesterday. He is technically not cleared to drive yet, but Chrissy doesn’t know that and if Robin heard, she doesn’t mention it.

The house is still looming, cold and dark. Steve can’t imagine how he lived there all those years without it creeping him out.

They sneak into the backyard to get to Steve’s room. His window broke and he never told his parents, afraid to get into trouble, which now works in his favor. He tells the girls about the window and adds: “But I’m too bruised to climb the pipe.”

“Don’t look at me, I’m clumsy,” Robin immediately defends herself, before Steve could even suggest her. He’s seen her run for her life, which had been less than stellar, so he already wasn’t planning on asking her.

Chrissy, however, also looks unsure and apologetically says: “I’ve always been a horrible climber. I have terrible grip.”

“I’m gonna boost you up,” Steve tells her. “Standing on my hands as we practiced. You can easily reach then.”

“Lisa will kill us if she heard we did that without back spotter,” Chrissy points out, though she has a glimmer in her eyes.

“Lisa doesn’t have to know,” Steve grins. “Besides, Robin can catch you if you fall.”

“I most definitely cannot,” Robin protests, but is ignored by the two others, who get into position.

The stunt is one they performed in their final competition, so they feel comfortable doing it without back spotter. Steve puts his hands on Chrissy’s hips and she jumps, giving him the momentum to throw her higher, before catching her on the palms of his hand. From that position, she easily scrambles onto the roof, disappearing into Steve’s old room and appearing a few moments later to unlock the backdoor for them.

“I can’t believe I broke into your house,” she whispers as Robin and Steve enter as well. None of them turning on the lights, because they don’t want to be spotted by neighbors and the afternoon sun is enough, even through the closed curtains.

“It’s okay, I gave you permission, pin it on me,” Steve tells her easily, looking around the room and taking it in.

His parents have left all the furniture without covers, so a light dust coats it, since Steve hasn’t been there to clean. They might get ruined, but his mother will likely redecorate. There are also two cups and plates in the sink with questionable contents, since Steve hasn’t washed their dishes after they left. It makes him both sad and a little vindictive.

He is pulled out of his thoughts by Robin, who is standing by the piano and exclaims: “Wow, this is a really nice piano. Can you play, dingus?”

“I can actually,” Steve replies. It had been part of his education on how to behave like his social standing.

“You can?” Chrissy comments. “I always assumed it was decorative.”

“Yeah, I can,” Steve says, sitting down on the stool and pressing a few keys. It’s not entirely in tune after years of disuse, but it is good enough.

Chrissy goes to sit down next to him and asks: “Can you play We’ll Meet Again? My grandfather used to play it for me whenever I was little.”

“Sure,” Steve says, starting to play the slightly sad song. He only knows it, because his piano teacher had been a nurse during the war and it had been popular then.

When he is done playing, he gets a small applause from Chrissy and Robin and he smiles at them, before closing the piano and saying: “Well, that’s enough for now. I want to get out of here as quickly as possible.”

His room is like he left it, still a mess from when he packed in a hurry. It’s like his parents closed the door and pretended that would make him go away. Likely, they just couldn't be bothered to clean up as they had to leave again soon after.

Steve first folds his suit and neatly packs it into the bottom of one of the bags they brought with them. Then he packs a few more of the other clothes he left there, favorites he forgot, some more underwear, a few warm sweaters for the upcoming winter, two extra pair of jeans that aren’t the most comfortable, but better than nothing.

After that is done, he braves to open a door he hasn’t since he was twelve years old. His father’s study.

The desk still stands there, imposing and sturdy. Steve is momentarily transported to all the times he stood in front of that desk as his father berated him or made him stand there, waiting until he was deemed worthy of attention as his father worked.

He shakes it off and moves behind the desk, putting in the code to the safe that his father had told him for emergencies, praying the man had forgotten to change it.

Steve is in luck, because the safe clicks open. There is ample of money in there and despite his lack of finances, he doesn’t take it. He doesn’t actually want a robbery charge. Instead, he searches under them and gets his birth certificate and other papers. Things that are necessary to have.

With those tucked away, he tells the other two to get out of there. He contemplates grabbing a new key, just to fuck with his parents, but decides against it. Best if no one will ever learn they were there.

So, they return everything as closely to how they found it as they can and sneak back out.

It’s now nearing dinner, so Steve drops of Chrissy at home, hiding so it looks like Robin drove her there. Robin is also the one to walk her to the door, being grilled as Stevie by Chrissy’s mother until she is satisfied.

“Chrissy’s mom is terrifying,” Robin hisses when she gets back to the car.

“I know, glad you survived, Robbie,” Steve tells her with a grin.

“She thinks I’m a cheerleader, Steve,” Robin says. “She asked if being a base was hard with my build. I don’t even know what a base is! I can’t lie. Chrissy stepped on my foot, before I could dig myself into a hole. I nearly died.”

“Well, thank you for your service, drama queen,” Steve rolls his eyes as he continues to drive, luckily all going well, despite the injuries. “But I’m sure you can manage. Cheer isn’t that hard to grasp, though maybe hard for you to do.”

“You know, I get that that was an insult, but I will ignore that, because I am nice,” Robin sniffs, haughtily.

“You aren’t nice.”

“Shut up, dingus,” Robin says, smacking him lightly. “What I meant to say is; you need to tell me more about cheer so that I can pretend to be a cheerleader to Chrissy’s mom and we can all continue to hang out together.”

The shit eating, teasing grin disappears from Steve’s face and he can’t help but sound surprised as he asks: “You want to hear me talk about cheer? You said you hated sports.”

“I mean, I do,” Robin shrugs, looking a bit uncomfortable. “But you like sports. And you’re like my best friend. I wanna know about your sports.”

“That- that is honestly so sweet,” Steve tells her, having to swallow, so he won’t cry.

“Shut up,” Robin says, suspiciously not looking his way.

That evening Steve tells Robin all about cheer, the two of them pointedly not talking about what they did today and what is going to happen tomorrow. Instead going over cheer formations and types of stunts and positions in the team until they’re tired, Steve falling asleep in Robin’s bed again, without either of them commenting on that as well.

On Tuesday 9th of July, they bury Chief Jim Hopper.

Out of all the pallbearers, Steve and Jonathan are the ones that are not police. Steve is walking in the front and then the right, so his injured side doesn’t hit the casket. He is well aware of the large crowd of people staring at his beat up face, the rumors that are going around.

Steve wills himself not to cry, he has done enough of that already and today he needs to be strong for Joyce and El, who have suffered a much greater loss than him. He is aware of how light the casket is, how there is no body and no closure for them. It makes it easier on his bruised body, but he gladly would’ve suffered the pain to give them that.

His suit is from prom and luckily still fits. He looks like he has more money to his name than he does, but he’s not complaining about it. Though, he feels guilty at the thought.

He purposefully doesn’t look at the crowd, not wanting to meet anyone’s gaze. He just stares straight ahead, his face stony.

Once the casket is positioned for burial, Steve lets go and follows Jonathan to where Joyce is standing with El and Will. Joyce falls into Jonathan’s arms and Steve takes El, who had been hiding in Joyce’s side.

The five of them watch the burial like that. Will next to his older brother, who has one arm on Will’s shoulder. Jonathan’s other arm around his mother as she cries silent tears. Joyce holds Steve’s hand tightly and Steve holds it right back. El is under Steve’s other arm and he hugs her as best as he can, ignoring how his ribs twinge.

Throughout the entire ceremony, Steve doesn’t cry. He keeps up his impersonation of a statue and looks ahead. He is their rock now. He is keeping it together.

Only when the grave is filled and the Byers get ready to leave, does Steve turn around, El is still stuck to his side and he just keeps holding her. He spots the Buckleys in the crowd, already coming his way to support him, and catches Chrissy’s eyes, who sends him a sympathetic look, stuck next to her mother.

Daisy kisses his cheek and hugs him tightly, while Thomas, Robin’s dad, claps him on the back a few times. Robin ducks between them to cling to him and El, it’s a little awkward, but he clings right back.

It is when he is hugging Robin that he meets his father’s eyes from over her head. He is standing in an expensive black suit next to his mother in a stylish black dress. They look every part the rich socialites, who have come to show support for the town’s tragedy.

In that moment, Steve hates them more than he ever has before. He hugs Robin even closer and glares at them, before letting go of Robin and asking Jonathan where to meet, since El doesn’t look like she is letting go and they still have to hear the will.

He doesn’t care about his parents. He isn’t going to let them get to him. Especially not today when there are more important people counting on him.

Steve goes by all the kids, who are clumped together, making sure to hug them all and tell them that they’re going to be okay. That they’re going to get through this. Mike tries to talk to El, who is still by Steve’s side, but she just shakes her head, before hiding in Steve’s jacket again. This causes Mike to glare at Steve, which he ignores. Emotions are already running high enough.

As he leaves, he is stopped by Max, who tugs on his sleeve and asks: “Steve?”

“Yeah, Max?” he says kindly, not wanting to trigger an upset reaction when she already looks like she can cry at any moment.

“Uhm, I- I know you didn’t have the best history with- with Billy,” she is stumbling over her words, but valiantly keeping in the tears. “But can you come. Tomorrow. To his funeral?”

“Of course,” he promises. He isn’t going to abandon her, not when she already lost a brother.

After that, he drives to the reading of the will with El, since she hasn’t left his side. He doesn’t know why she is clinging to him, when the two of them haven’t interacted much, but he isn’t going to abandon her when she obviously needs someone to lean on.

The group for the will is much smaller and Steve ends up sitting next to Joyce, with El squished between them. Steve gets a few odd looks, but he ignores it to support El.

Hopper didn’t have much, so most of the things that are in his will are sentimental things that he shared with people. Steve tries to ignore that Hopper must have made this will after their second run in with the Upside Down. How he must have foreseen that it wouldn’t be over and they might not all make it out next time.

That he was right about it.

The big thing he owns is the cabin, which has been paid off already. No one who knew about her is surprised when that goes to El. She is still a minor and Hopper has appointed Joyce as her guardian with her consent, which makes Steve glance at her.

Joyce looks back and he can see in her eyes that she remembers the conversation when Hopper asked her to look after El should something happen clearly now. He reaches over and squeezes her shoulder. No one should go through such a thing, but especially not Joyce.

When it’s all done, Steve asks her: “Have you talked to El about what will happen now?”

Both of them look to El, who is currently with Jonathan after she felt good enough to leave Joyce and Steve’s side for a bit. Then they look at each other and Steve sees some awkwardness in Joyce’s eyes that has him on edge.

“I am planning to move to California,” she tells him softly. “She and Will have been through too much here. I don’t want El to start school here and have everyone know and ask her questions. I haven’t started looking for places, since I wanted to ask if you wanted to come too. I know it’s all suddenly and I don’t expect an answer, but I’ve taken you in and I’m not planning on abandoning you, okay, honey?”

It takes a second for all her words to register.

First, all that plays through Steve’s mind is that the Byers are leaving Hawkins. They’re moving away, which is the only competent adult they have left and the girl with the power and knowledge, though the power has disappeared. Jonathan, who can fight. And Will, well, Will makes the most sense, but Steve knows how the party will miss him. How he holds them together.

If they all go, the party practically halves in numbers and Steve is the only one who is a proper adult. Nancy and Robin are there as well and while Robin is new to this, she can be counted on and Nancy is a powerhouse in her own right, but still. Steve will be the one most of the party turns to when shit hits the fan again.

At this point, Steve is still in the stage where the Upside Down coming back seems like an inevitability, though hopefully that will leave – it might be better to keep the mentality, seeing how it has come back again already, but still.

Then it hits Steve that Joyce is offering him to come with her. That she is giving him a way out of this hellhole to California. California where people are more accepting, where he isn’t tied to the Harrington name and his old reputation as well as new rumors. He can just accept her offer and be free of that.

But-

But he can’t.

Chrissy is still here, unable to leave her mom. They’re friends. They bonded over having horrible parents and how much it sucks to be alone in that. She broke into his house with him. He promised her they could always stunt together. That he would always make her fly.

And what about Robin, his favorite lesbian. The only other queer person, he has met besides Will, and that is still a maybe, and Eddie. But Robin. Robin is his queer friend. She knows him. They give each other hope and safety. He can’t just leave her.

Plus, they got tortured together. They were drugged together. They came out to each other. She has never had to deal with the aftermath of the Upside Down before. She obviously isn’t dealing perfectly and neither is he. And the thought of being away from her pains him.

Then there are the kids. They’re already going to loose two friends, who are moving to Cali and they have lost Hopper, who was as much their safety net as Steve is. He can’t hang them out to dry like it’s nothing. And Billy’s loss has hit Max harder than he thought. He can’t abandon her now, not after that.

His mind also jumps to Eddie, who is here in Hawkins. Eddie, who knows him, who has been kind in the moments he needed it. Eddie, who he likes. Eddie, who he wants to have a chance with. The boy he wanted to kiss when he was being tortured, the boy he still wants to kiss.

Steve shoves that last thought away, the other reasons are more important. Plus, him going would be an extra financial burden Joyce doesn’t need.

He is already shaking his head no, before he even thinks about it more. His voice is a little pained, because he would have loved to say yes, as he says: “I- I can’t. I can’t come with you. Thank you, but- I mean, the kids-”

As he stumbles over the words El pops up between them. It is obvious she has been eavesdropping, because she says: “He can have the cabin.”

Both Joyce and Steve look at her and Joyce immediately tells her that she is very sweet for offering, but she should think about such things and Steve is agreeing with Joyce, telling El that is not necessary at all.

“No,” El says, as stubborn as ever. “Hopper was going to take you in if you had no place to go. He wanted you to have a place. You cannot come with us, so you need a place to stay. He would want you to have a place to stay.”

For the hundredth time today, Steve has to repress the urge to cry, because he knows that he cares about Hopper and he kind of thought the other man cared about him, but the fact that he was willing to take him in confirms it.

He takes her cheeks between his hands and presses a kiss on her forehead, before hugging her close and swaying her from side to side. Squished into his chest, he hears her whisper: “We could have been siblings.”

And Steve remembers her running away to find the other numbers, to find a sibling. A connection out there. Remembers how she came back and decided Hopper was her connection. His heart swells with affection and aches at the same time about how she wanted him to feel included in that.

Still, he can recognize that she is in an emotional state, so he just says: “Thank you, El. You’re really sweet. Let’s talk about this later.”

She nods in his chest, mollified with his reaction. She allows Joyce to take her home, while Steve climbs into his own car and cries like he has wanted to all day. He cries until his tears have run dry, then drives to the Buckley house.

He doesn’t say anything all evening and none of them seem to expect him to, which he is grateful for. He sleeps in Robin’s bed again, holding her close against his chest and knows he made the right choice in saying no.

On Wednesday 10th of July, they bury Billy Hargrove. Steve hates the man, but seeing him die has been horrible and he can respect who he gave his life for and acknowledge who he hurt by dying.

So, he puts his black suit on again like an armor and holds Max throughout the ceremony, watching the distance between her mom and step-dad. An ominous feeling about it hanging in the air. Sees how neither of them look back to Max or check if she’s okay.

After the funeral, he takes her to get a milkshake. Neither of them speak as they drink it in their mourning clothes, everyone giving them a wide berth.

It is a week of many funerals, it seems like everyone has lost someone.

When he brings her home, neither parent had noticed her missing, but she seems happier than when he met her at the graveyard. They’ll just have to be there for her, Steve thinks, making a note to keep an eye on her for a few months.

[stra-tek]

Excerpt ??? (I've lost count) from I Survived Kirk, my forthcoming fanfic autobiography of a bitter redshirt on Kirk's Enterprise

The entire reason this book exists is as a rebuttal of Risk is Our Business.  I’m not sure how much of that was written by Kirk himself and how much was his ghost writer, but the man depicted in that book is not the man I worked under for years.  Not in personality, not in reasoning.  Not in anything.  I see it as more whitewashing of history, more misinformation to pass along to the next generation.  This book exists as a counterpoint.  I’m no James T Kirk, I haven’t done the things he has.  I’ll never be as famous and this book will never be read by anywhere near as many people.  But if I can get through to just a few that’s fine by me.  So long as the truth as I know it is preserved in some way.

I first met James Tiberius Kirk when I reported aboard the USS Enterprise as a crewman in 2264.  He came in with a reputation, as the hero of what they were calling the “Gioghe Incident” where he’d taken command of the USS Lydia Sutherland, and although he lost his ship, he’d saved many lives.  He’d just been given a medal and a promotion.

The entire Enterprise crew was gathered in the shuttlebay for the change-of-command ceremony.  I was right at the back, in front of the mammoth clamshell doors.  At the other end of the bay, Captain Pike wished everyone well and Captain Kirk gave a short and completely unmemorable speech.

He seemed like a nice enough guy.  Young for a captain but confident in himself, enough so that you wanted to follow him.  And people would – for better or worse.

Our historic five-year mission was to begin with a routine patrol of bases along the Klingon border, ferrying a touring troupe to entertain the base personnel.  It was meant to be something nice and easy to get the crew accustomed to each other and their new commander.

Kirk’s mother and father both served in Starfleet.  Daddy Kirk rose through the ranks, becoming first officer of the Einstein-class deep-space scout USS Kelvin.  When James was born, George decided an assignment closer to Earth was preferable to years-long missions in deep space.  He transferred to become security chief of Starbase 2, the K-class space station roughly two weeks from Earth which I’d just left.

Apparently George and Winona Kirk’s Starfleeting was more important than raising kids, since they left Jimbo with relatives on Tarsus IV.

A teenage Jim Kirk survived The Tarsus IV Massacre, which cannot have left him without some serious psychological scars.

What was The Tarsus IV Massacre, you ask?  It was quite a big news story throughout the Federation at the time.  An alien fungus ruined an Earth colony’s entire food supply, and with help too far out to prevent mass starvation, the colony’s governor, a man named…Anton?  Arnold?  A-something Kodos decided the cull the “less useful” members of it’s population, so that the ones he decided were worthy of survival would survive long enough for help to arrive. 

So, he murdered half the colony’s population.  And then – here’s the kicker – rescue arrived much earlier than expected.  Early enough that nobody needed to be executed.  Except they already had.  Oh dear.

The scenes shown on the newscasts were shocking and graphic.  Far worse than anything I’d ever seen in my life up until that point.  Usually you hear just hear about murders and horrible events with options to click for more details and gross images.  Here we got shocking images of piles of charred dead bodies, many children, in our newsfeeds.  It was mind-blowing and harrowing to see things like this are still happening in Federation territory.  On a Federation colony world, no less.

It gets weirder, there were people asking how Kodos would be thought of had rescue arrived when expected, and his mass executions had saved half the population rather than doomed the whole?  While it’s an interesting scenario, the entire idea of this Kodos being the one to decide who lives and who dies is repulsive. Much more on James Kirk later.  And more on Kodos, too.

[martyrbat]

[ID: The ‘Live Slug Reaction’ meme. Instead of a slug, it's a close-up on Jim Gordon's face. He's in a hospital bed and his white glasses lens blocks his eyes as he stares straight ahead with an impassive expression. Text over his head reads ‘Live Gordon Reaction’ in the style of a newscast. END ID]

was gonna make a bad joke but changed my mind. take this and get the hell out of here.

[doctorstethoscope]

And the Devil Appears || Will x Mac

genuinely very brave of me to post a fic for a decade old fandom that does not seem to exist on tumblr <3 to the two people who interacted with my ff will x mac blurbs this is for you. and a big ty to @hotchs-bitch for betaing this bad boy for me!!

contains: alcohol consumption, angst

wordcount: 1045

The end of season wrap parties have always felt arbitrary to Mackenzie. They’re in television, yes, but it wasn’t like there was an off season for them, a plot bow they could tie up, a clean break in the story. The news was messy, it was constant, it was encompassing. That was what she liked about it, even if it meant that the work never stopped and that the “season” was another notch in her contract negotiating belt more than it was anything substantive.

And it also meant an ACN-sponsored party with free booze, so she supposed she wouldn’t complain. 

They’d have to pick up in the morning and start the next “season,” which is nothing more than the day’s newscast, but Mackenzie finds herself feeling reflective anyhow. She lets Wade know that she’s going to make a quick stop at her office, leaving him with an inebriated and chatty Sloan. Instead of heading to her office, she walks down the hallway and jams her thumb into the elevator button impatiently, anxious to get out to the quiet of the patio so she can think. She’s making a difference here, she knows. Her, and Jim, and Don, and Maggie, and even Will, she admits to herself reluctantly. They’re doing real news, important news, news that makes people better and more informed. And they’re doing it well enough that Will has time to despise her. 

She bites her thumbnail as she strides over to the railing, looking out at the city below. So what if Will hated her?  He was entitled. He was the anchor and she was the EP. He respected her as his showrunner. She didn’t need him to like her. 

She turns abruptly when she hears the door open behind her, not expecting to be interrupted. Of course,  she practically scowls to herself. Think of the devil, and the devil appears. 

“What’re you doing all alone up here?” Will asks softly, in a tone that’s all too familiar to her, but one that she’s rarely heard since she’s been back. 

“Just getting some air. The party’s pretty loud,” She says, turning back towards the street, not even looking at him. She can’t. 

“Can we talk, Mackenzie?”  He asks, coming to stand next to her, bracing his hands on the rail. 

“Of course,” she says, easily, as if it isn’t killing her just to feel the warmth of him radiating onto her arm. As if every moment of producing him, of owning him, wasn’t abject torture. 

“I haven’t been very fair to you,” he admits, and although she’s shocked to hear it, Mackenzie chuffs out a laugh. 

“A bit of an understatement, isn’t it?” She mutters under her breath. 

“Yes,” he admits, and now she’s really aghast. She flicks her eyes up to his for the first time and finds him staring down at her. “I just wanted you to know… I had to tell you, Mackenzie, I don’t think I ever stopped loving you,”

“Will–” 

“And I’m sorry if that’s hard for you to hear, or if you don’t feel the same way, but I think you do, Mack. I think you’re mad at me, and you have every right to be, but I think underneath that we both know that you and I—”

“Will, I’m engaged to Wade.” 

She watches this revelation hit him like a brick wall, and it makes her cringe. A part of her hates herself for it. But it’s the truth. That’s what the two of them– what journalism, she mentally corrects herself, is all about, right? A wave of something unpleasant rolls over her as she realizes that the truth, the thing they spent day in and day out working towards, was going to take Will away from her for a second time. 

“That’s not real. You’re not,” Will blusters. 

“It most certainly is real, and I most certainly am!” She argues, getting angry now. 

“Does he make you happy?” Will asks, and it has the timbre of a concerned, ages-old friend who only wants the best for her. But she knows better. He’s challenging her, just like he always does. It’s bait, and she won’t take it. He lets out a humorless chuff at her lack of response. 

“What, and you think you do?!” She’s yelling, it’s unprofessional and unladylike and she doesn’t give a fuck. “You think I like this? You think I’m happy, coming into work every day and sitting next to you in every meeting and pretending like I’m—” she stops herself suddenly. 

“Pretending like what, Mackenzie?” He asks, but she just holds his gaze. They know. They both know, and neither one of them will ever dare to say it for fear of being the greater fool.

“You don’t get to do this, Billy. You don’t get to condemn me to a life of unhappiness just because that’s the path you’ve chosen for yourself,” she commands him, as if speaking it aloud would make it so.

“This isn’t right. You know this isn’t right. I love you. You can’t tell me that you haven’t been waiting for years for me to say that. I know you have. I read the emails from when you were embedded.” 

“You told me that you didn’t,” she whispered. 

“I lied,” he whispered back, leaning in close to her. 

“Well then I have absolutely no reason to believe that this isn’t a lie, too– another one of your godforsaken punishments,” she spits out, lunging away from him.

“It’s not. This is real, Mack. Unlike whatever the fuck you’re doing with Wade,” he twists the knife, unable to ignore it when it’s right in front of him. 

“Fuck you, Billy. You know why I’m engaged to Wade? Because he’s not you. Say what you want about him, or about me, but he’s never hurt me on purpose. And I never did that to you either.”  She runs back into the building, leaves him on the balcony. He should follow her, should insist that their conversation isn’t over. But he knows, he knows deep down, that it is. He’d pushed, and pushed, and pushed, and she finally called uncle. 

He pulls out the little blue box he’d had in his pocket and pitches it over the railing.

tagging: @spacecowboyhotch @honeybrowne @angelfxllcm @rousethemouse @infinite-tides @gspenc @anlin2058 @zetasaturno99 @witheldclouds @realdirectionx @sbeno22 @el-vs94 @hausofwhores

[kudosmyhero]

Legends of the Dark Knight (vol. 1) #66: Going Sane, part 2: Swimming Lessons

Read Date: April 19, 2023 Cover Date: December 1994 ● Writer: J.M. DeMatteis ● Penciler: Joe Staton ● Inker: Steve Mitchell ● Colorist: (Digital Chameleon) ● Letterer: Willie Schubert ● Editor: Archie Goodwin ◦ Jim Spivey ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● ugh, Joker kissing on the cover. despite Harley Quinn and all that, I always feel a little weird seeing Joker kissing someone. he seems like such a deeply unsexual being to me. ● has it been three weeks-ish since the end of the last issue?? ● my heart! poor Alfred looks so lost! ● carrying the groceries to her place is one thing. coming inside and putting the groceries away for her is way overstepping, considering you two literally just met ● unless Alfred is using all his skills to make excuses, surely Bruce Wayne’s absence has been noticed. well… the man does leave the country often enough. maybe Alfred just has to say that he’s in the Alps again or something. ● the Bat-signal goes unanswered… ● this B-story with Rebecca and Joseph is sweet. too sweet to last… ● Joseph Kerr… ● gah, I wanna give Alfred a hug!

● I wanna give Gordon a hug, too. Bat-signal unanswered yet again. ● Batman returns! the smile of Alfred’s face <3 ● the art style still isn’t my favorite, otherwise it might have been a 5-clapper ● 👏👏👏👏

Synopsis: Three weeks have passed since the Joker kidnapped Councilwoman Elizabeth Kenner. Captain Gordon is in his office watching the news. Reports of a brutally beaten and strangled body being fished out of Gotham Bay are followed by Kenner making comments about Captain Gordon, taking him to task about not apprehending the Joker as well as the unknown fate of Batman. While looking at a picture of Joker on the Batcomputer, Alfred also wonders if Joker indeed killed him.

Joker has been living in an apartment in Park Ridge, the very same site as his bombing, since his last encounter with Batman. He has deluded himself into inventing a generic name for himself, Joseph Kerr, and that he just moved to Gotham City from someplace he cannot seem to remember. He has himself believe that he just lost his parents, his apartment paid for by an inheritance from their deaths, supposedly has a job working for an accounting firm, and is taking medication for his skin condition, living life as an average everyday guy. He immediately bumps into a pretty young woman from across the hall named Rebecca Brown and the two are instantly attracted to one another.

Weeks pass and Alfred still wonders if indeed Batman is dead, while Gordon continues to hear Kenner's harsh comments towards him and Batman's fate, as well as keeping the faith by having the Bat-Signal lit. Joseph and Rebecca have become a happy couple who enjoy the same things such as old comedic reels and radio shows from the 1930s and 1940s. However, kinks start to appear in the sanity of Joseph as he suffers from horrible nightmares and comes across various links to his former life as Joker.

The body in the bay is identified as Dr. Elias Bruckner; a plastic surgeon who specialized in new faces for criminals. His being seen for the last time with the Joker right after the Comedia Theater was destroyed further fuels rumors of Joker still being at large in the city as well as Batman being dead. On the television news, the tension between Gordon and Kenner becomes white-hot, while Alfred tries his best to tend to the manor. Joseph is watching this same newscast, which causes him to become angry, almost hitting Rebecca in the process. He is able to stop himself from going through with it, but runs out of the apartment and into the elevator, giving in a little to his former persona. Gordon finally turns off the Bat Signal one night.

More weeks pass and Rebecca wakes up to a room of flowers and a happy Joseph, who proposes marriage to her. An ecstatic Rebecca accepts his proposal. Unable to sleep, Alfred descends into the Batcave when suddenly a familiar voice calls his name. He turns to see Batman who proclaims his return.

(https://dc.fandom.com/wiki/Batman:_Legends_of_the_Dark_Knight_Vol_1_66)

Fan Art: The Joker's Calling Card by No-Sign-of-Sanity

Accompanying Podcast: ● Batbooks for Beginners - episode 12

[posttexasstressdisorder]

Walter Cronkite was on CBS. Dan Rather was his rightful heir there:

Over on NBC was The Huntley-Brinkley Report, Chet Huntley and David Brinkley.

At election times, they were the team to watch, reporting live.

On ABC you had Harry Reasoner (how's THAT for a last name for a newscaster?),

And Frank Reynolds,

And a Peter Jennings, too:

And once PBS got goin', they had The McNeil-Lehrer Report, Robert McNeil and Jim Leher:

These were "The News Guys" I grew up with that I remember the most. I know I'm forgetting a few. But THESE guys all took journalism as a serious job, and they did it well.

Now all we have are Bimbos and Himbos and Quacks. Oh my.

A legend http://dlvr.it/T2ykjP

[stargiirl27]

if I were the last person on earth I'd pretend to be an on the ground newscaster just to not go insane I'd hold my imaginary microphone and go:

"thanks, Jim. well, if you look outside today, folks, you'll notice that the streets are empty. that could be due to the nuclear fallout that occurred three days ago, but experts are conflicted. back to you, Jim."

[home-inspiration-blog]

Jim Acosta leaving CNN: 'I've decided to move on'

Jim Acosta is saying goodbye to CNN. The anchor and former White House correspondent is leaving his network home of 18 years. He made the announcement at the end of his newscast on Tuesday morning. “I just wanted to end today’s show by thanking all of the wonderful people who work behind the scenes at this network. You may have seen some reports about me and the show, and after giving all of this…

[oha-09]

The article highlights Medline's recognition by Modern Healthcare for its excellence in supply chain management and its leadership in the healthcare industry. The company was praised for its innovative approach and efficient operations that contribute to the overall improvement of healthcare services.

Integrating digital solutions like One Health Assist (OHA) can further enhance such efforts by securely managing supply chain data, streamlining operations, and fostering innovation for a more efficient and responsive healthcare system. For more details, visit the article on NY Newscast.

[lboogie1906]

Carole Simpson (December 7, 1940) is a broadcast journalist, news anchor, and author. She is the first African American woman to anchor a major US network newscast.

She is a graduate of the University of Michigan. She began her career on radio at WCFL in Chicago and was hired at WBBM. She moved to television at Chicago’s WMAQ and on to NBC News in 1975, becoming the first African American woman to anchor a major network newscast. She joined ABC News in 1982 and was an anchor for the weekend edition of World News Tonight (1988-2003).

editShe became the first woman of color to moderate a presidential debate when she moderated the debate held between George H. W. Bush, Bill Clinton, and Ross Perot. She was the recipient of the Journalist of the Year Award from the National Association of Black Journalists.

She is on the Advisory Council at the International Women’s Media Foundation.

She retired from ABC News in 2006 to begin teaching journalism at Emerson College (2006-19).

She is a former member of the Radio Television Digital News Foundation Board of Trustees and an affiliate of the Radio Television Digital News Association. She established the Carole Simpson Scholarship to encourage and help minority students overcome hurdles along their career path, which is offered annually to aspiring journalists.

In 2010, her autobiography, Newslady, was published by AuthorHouse.

She married Jim Simpson (1966). She is a cousin of sportswriter and ESPN commentator Michael Wilbon. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[meteorologistaustenlonek]

Thanks to @WDEFNews12 production department newscast director Rainey Randolph for a view of the rising moon over UTC's Jim Frost Stadium... Friday's @LangleyRoofing #WeatherWindow #PictureOfTheDay. Got #weatherpix to share? Go to wdef.com/photos

[ironvaliance]

31:00-37:25~

warning for steve.

after the fiasco that is the seals opening, we change scenes to a research station in greenland. a scientist sits down at his desk, where he's watching a gameshow. he turns to watch, bored. a sandwich is in hand. he chuckles at the contestant's bad spin. a dog barks outside, and initially the scientist ignores it, going to drink his coffee, but the barking continues. he's about to take a sip of his drink before the research station shakes. the lights flicker, but stay on. the dogs continue barking.

the scientist leaves the room, pulls gear on and goes outside to see the huskies barking at something in the distance. the blizzard makes it difficult to see. he hushes the dogs and continues to squint through the blizzard. the ground cracks beneath him, green light illuminating the faults. a large chunk of ice destroys the vehicle before the ground heaves up, revealing the first of the titans: an ice titan piloted by skrael.

skrael's eyes are glowing green, surrounded by magic circles to pilot the titan. the scientist faints, dropping the coffee. the research station is otherwise unharmed.

we cut to a football field in brazil. the ground shakes and rumbles as some brazilian kids play. the ground heaves and gives way, destroying rainforest and the kids' football field. the ball gets knocked down the new chasm, one of the kids trying to reach for it. another kid has fallen in.

spidery limbs protrude from the chasm, and appearing is the earth titan, nari controlled by bellroc at its helm. the kids watch in confusion and horror as it walks away. the ball is knocked back out, bouncing through the goal posts. the kid reemerges from the chasm, watching as the ball scores. they cheer, the titan forgotten.

we cut to south chinese waters, fishermen hauling catches and watch in horror as the sea boils, cooking the fish alive. the fish float dead at the surface. a shockwave knocks the boats around, water spilling into the decks.

the third titan appears with an explosion of boiling water, piloted by bellroc, lava steams pouring down multiple sides, the way bellroc's eyes stream lava after the injury from deya in wizards. bellroc calls for the earth to begin anew.

it cuts to an overhead shot on a news station, detailing that they have attempted communication with the titan after it rises from the sea, the chinese forces were ordered to forgo peacekeeping measures. it cuts to the panels of newscast shown on akaridion screens in camelot, steve in a chair as he eats pickles and ice cream, and the baby kicks. steve rubs his belly and tells them to not look. the news reporter asks why has the titan surfaced, and what does it want? he cries because his snack tastes so good to him when it shouldn't, and he continues to eat his pickles with ice cream.

thankfully we get a scene change as the round table rises from the floor, the team watching as a projection of the earth flickers on over the board. jim asks how long they converge. 'eighteen hours, six minutes' aja reports. toby declaires he's crammed for finals in less time. claire looks like a smack is in toby's future but smiles before it's her turn to ask the question of 'what do we do.' douxie confirms that they need to take nari at her word.

'trollhunter make ninth configuration, krohnisfere will make right'. krel repeats. blinky comes in, hypothesizing that the krohnisfere will have some ability to fight the titans. somehow blinky knows that it was last seen in the possession of the trolldragons. blinky how do you know that. blinky admits they're so ruthless and secretive; even he hasn't seen any of them. steve declares that trolldragons sound made up. archie admits his dad might know something. aja laments that even with the krohnisfere, they still don't have a trollhunter. everyone takes a hit in morale. thanks aja.

aja continues to say that they need to evacuate earth with the largest akaridion ships. blinky gasps, as if the notion of evacuation is the worst thing. (aja is right, protect what they can), however, even krel admits that running isn't an option. krel and aja argue about how there's other planets - but krel shouts that earth is unique.

blinky asks where her trust in their trollhunter is - and aja demands to know if jim even trusts himself. we cut to barbara and walt looking worried. nomura cuts in - it's suicide. blinky still reminds them that the trollhunter is still the trollhunter (thank you troll dad) and the arguments continue.

jim looks down at the back part of the akaridion amulet, the shiny metal mirroring the group's bickering faces. jim's worry about the continued fighting increases, listening to aja continue to demand they evacuate earth, blinky saying that they need to stay and fight - until he gets fed up and yells at the team to stop. argh hushes the group so that jim may be better heard. jim gives them the speech that they must stick together, that they musn't argue. that they can't play it safe. it cuts to walt and barb smiling at their son. jim admits he's made mistakes, but the amulet doesn't. it brought the team together for a reason. it chose jim for a reason. jim has to trust it, and asks for the team to trust him. (there's my boy, at least for a bit.)

toby is the first to speak up, that he'll follow jim anywhere. it started with them, and will end with the two of them. jim asks the rest of the team for their opinion. aja apparently has already sent for ships - and that they'll do it the trollhunter's way until they arrive. jim confirms that the stone used in the new amulet is from akaridion-5. aja took it herself. the amulet came from merlin and needs to carry the same magic. (DOUXIE TOO DOUXIE IS RIGHT THERE JIM. also morgana but ig the metal used is strong enough without a wizard hand in it literally?)

douxie brings up the point merlin's staff was destroyed. after all, he held it as it was destroyed in dragon's breath. jim nods before connecting the dots of excalibur wasn't. blinky gasps. the stone in the hilt. jim starts laying down the orders - the plan. stuart and krel get excalibur. claire leads a team to find the krohnisfere. douxie asks 'and the rest of us?" jim gets the most determined he's been in a hot minute. 'amulet or no amulet, they use what they can to take down the titans.

aja quietly speaks to krel that only one can pull excalibur from the stone, and jim failed already. krel, like blinky, echoes that he's still the trollhunter. aja asks if he is anymore. they need a plan b. aja will not fail if jim does. contact varvaatos - deploy the secret weapon. toby asks what the secret weapon is, and eli smiles and hits him with the 'its a secret to everyone'. but trust him, toby would like it.

times that 'we dont have a trollhunter' is said: 1

times jim's doubted as the trollhunter by aja: too many times.

[ulkaralakbarova]

Ypsilanti, Michigan, 1945. Engineer Preston Tucker dreams of designing the car of future, but his innovative envision will be repeatedly sabotaged by his own unrealistic expectations and the Detroit automobile industry tycoons. Credits: TheMovieDb. Film Cast: Preston Tucker: Jeff Bridges Vera: Joan Allen Abe: Martin Landau Eddie: Frederic Forrest Jimmy: Mako Howard Hughes: Dean Stockwell Junior: Christian Slater Marilyn Lee: Nina Siemaszko Frank: Marshall Bell Kerner: Peter Donat Alex: Elias Koteas Kirby: Jay O. Sanders Noble: Corin Nemec Stan: Don Novello Johnny: Anders Johnson Bennington: Dean Goodman Ferguson’s Agent: John X. Heart Millie: Patti Austin Stan’s Assistant: Sandy Bull Judge: Joe Miksak Floyd Cerf: Scott Beach Oscar Beasley: Roland Scrivner Narrator (voice): Bob Safford Doc: Larry Menkin Fritz: Ron Close Dutch: Joe Flood Gas Station Owner: Leonard Gardner Garage Owner: Bill Bonham Ferguson’s Secretary #1: Abigail van Alyn Ferguson’s Secretary #2: Taylor Gilbert Woman on Steps: David Booth Newscaster (voice): Al Hart Security Guard: Cab Covay Man in Audience: James Cranna Board Member: Bill Reddick Mayor: Ed Loerke Head Engineer: Jay Jacobus Bennington’s Secretary: Anne Lawder Singing Girl #1: Jeanette Lana Sartain Singing Girl #2: Mary Buffett Singing Girl #3: Annie Stocking Recording Engineer: Michael McShane Tucker’s Secretary #1: Hope Alexander-Willis Tucker’s Secretary #2: Taylor Young Police Sergeant: Jim Giovanni Reporter at Trial: Joe Lerer Ingram: Morgan Upton SEC Agent: Ken Grantham Blue: Mark Anger Jury Foreman: Al Nalbandian Senator Homer Ferguson (uncredited): Lloyd Bridges Girl at Mellon Publicity Event (uncredited): Sofia Coppola Film Crew: Executive Producer: George Lucas Director: Francis Ford Coppola Producer: Fred Roos Additional Music: Carmine Coppola Director of Photography: Vittorio Storaro Production Design: Dean Tavoularis Editor: Priscilla Nedd-Friendly Casting: Janet Hirshenson Sound Re-Recording Mixer: Richard Beggs Producer: Fred Fuchs Casting: Jane Jenkins Music Editor: Mark Adler Supervising Sound Editor: Gloria S. Borders Sound Re-Recording Mixer: Tom Johnson Set Decoration: Armin Ganz Costume Designer: Milena Canonero Unit Production Manager: Ian Bryce Foley Artist: Dennie Thorpe Sound Effects Editor: Tim Holland Leadman: Doug von Koss Second Unit Director: Buddy Joe Hooker Assistant Costume Designer: Judianna Makovsky Assistant Makeup Artist: Karen Bradley Set Designer: Jim Pohl Camera Operator: Jamie Anderson Foley Editor: Sandina Bailo-Lape Stunts: Jimmy Nickerson Screenplay: Arnold Schulman Sound Re-Recording Mixer: Randy Thom ADR Editor: Louise Rubacky Original Music Composer: Joe Jackson Researcher: Anahid Nazarian Assistant Sound Designer: Mildred Iatrou Location Casting: Aleta Chappelle Stunts: Gary McLarty Screenplay: David Seidler First Assistant Director: H. Gordon Boos Stunts: Dick Ziker Makeup Artist: Richard Dean ADR Editor: Tom Bellfort Art Direction: Alex Tavoularis Assistant Hairstylist: Terry Baliel Technical Advisor: Enrico Umetelli Property Master: Douglas E. Madison Script Supervisor: Wilma Garscadden-Gahret Still Photographer: Ralph Nelson Jr. Stunts: Steve M. Davison Sound Effects Editor: Robert Shoup Stunts: Tim A. Davison Assistant Sound Editor: Martha Pike Hairstylist: Lyndell Quiyou Costume Supervisor: Winnie D. Brown Assistant Sound Editor: Michele Perrone Foley Editor: Diana Pellegrini First Assistant Camera: Billy Clevenger Assistant Property Master: Douglas T. Madison Construction Coordinator: John J. Rutchland Jr. Unit Publicist: Susan Landau Finch Second Assistant Director: L. Dean Jones Jr. Production Sound Mixer: Michael Evje Assistant Sound Editor: Clare C. Freeman Assistant Sound Editor: Paige Sartorius Location Manager: Rory Enke Second Assistant Director: Daniel R. Suhart Gaffer: Pat Fitzsimmons Dialogue Editor: Melissa Dietz Associate Producer: Teri Fettis-D’Ovidio Boom Operator: D. G. Fisher Special Effects Supervisor: David Pier Production Accountant: Joe Murphy Negative Cutter: Donah Bassett Second Assistant C...