#purple palm tree delight

[natty-f]

day 5 - steve&jon + another char / argyle

[velocitytimes2]

You know what? I’ve been thinking a lot about s4 and them turning Jonathan into a stoner and, in a way, vilifying him for it.

Like Joyce is made to look like she has no clue it’s happening and Will jabs at him for it at the end? The weed is shown to be his character losing the path he had with Nancy, pulling away, blahblahblah

LET MY BOY SMOKE.

Jonathan grew up with an asshole abusive father.

Jonathan’s brother went missing, turned up dead (so he had to have a FUNERAL for his KID BROTHER), and then his mom went off, what at the time, seemed like the deep end!

Jonathan was an outcast! He didn’t have friends until Nancy, not that we’re shown.

Jonathan almost lost his brother AGAIN.

Jonathan lost two possible father figures in his and his family’s lives IN A YEAR.

Jonathan was never listened to, experienced extreme life long trauma, and he DESERVES a coping mechanism.

Like of fucking course he would need to escape the anxiety of your kid brother and new kid sister seemingly always being in harms way?? And people you know or care about dying? And you having to always put the pieces back the fuck together?

My boy was stoned and for good fucking reason. I hate that they looked at him and made it out to be any different.

Not to MENTION the issue of making weed a Bad Drug when it has benefits to so many but im not willing to open that can of worms on the Duffers rn

[http-byler]

Ok so for the jargyle doodle requests could you draw them at a carnival? With Jonathan holding a prize that Argyle won for him? Thanks!

☆ carnival nights! ☆

[byler-alarmist]

All I'm saying is Eddie should've gotten to try Purple Palm Tree Delight

[gaytoru]

just had a pineapple pizza

argyle is always correct

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

I really wish we had gotten to see eddie & argyle interact

they would be bros for life and you can’t tell me otherwise

[itswhatyougive]

Jonathan said in his yearbook profile that he wanted to be a rock photographer. I'M JUST SAYING I want a shot of him taking pics when Eddie is back and the gang is at a Corroded Coffin show in the happy ending montage. Hey, he's got to get his start somewhere!

[asapphicmagnuschase]

argyle has absolutely no idea what’s going on and i respect that 💀💀💀

[fishwear]

genuinely think that all the shit in season 4 could of been solved if vecna smoked some fuckinnn weed

[d0rianw1lde]

Pre-S4 Eddie who’s completely unaware of the true events of the Starcourt mall.

Pre-S4 Eddie who has to make sure that his eyes aren’t deceiving him- that Steve Harrington is actually in the back of his shitty van, cash in hand, waiting for Eddie to pick his jaw up off of the floor and give him the damn weed he’s trying to pay for.

“Sorry- not every day you uh..” Eddie starts.

“..See your high school bully ask you for weed?”

“What? No. No, those are my biggest buyers.” Eddie snorts, and hands over the baggy. Steve goes to hand him the money, and Eddie counts it, giving back half. Steve stares at him quizzically. “Consider it a first-buy deal.” Eddie explains, and Steve shrugs, unamused.

“You mind if I..” Steve grumbles, and Eddie puts his hands up.

“Be my guest. That’s a best-seller. Purple Palm Tree Delight. It’ll have you in another dimension.” Eddie grins, but Steve cringes slightly. He looks to Eddie, who, with slender, ringed fingers, beckons for the baggy back. “C’mon, let me roll it for ya. You look..beat, man. Heard scoops went up in flames.” Eddie lets out a low whistle- if only he knew.

Steve doesn’t answer. He just waits patiently for Eddie to hand him the little joint, offering him a light. Steve places the joint between his lips, and leans forward, allowing the flame to light the tip of the joint. He anticipates the feeling he knows all too well- the calming feeling. The beautiful, floating feeling that had allowed him to drift away from his parents fighting, from his tanking grades, from his girlfriend declaring their love bullshit. And that first drag in feels like bliss…it feels like drifting..It feels like..

Falling. Like spiraling.

Had Eddie’s van always been so small? So suffocating? Steve allows the smoke to leave his lungs, and Eddie leans back. Grinning and reaching out for the joint.

“So..What do you do now?”

“What?” Steve’s mind is racing- this isn’t bliss. This isn’t mellowness. God, why is Eddie’s van so goddamn small? Have the sleeves of his jacket always been so

So tight? Around his wrists?

The tacky lights in Eddie’s van shine brighter- they feel blinding.

“Just asking you where you work now.”

Where he works.

Who he works for.

“Scoops..” Steve mutters, but his voice is far away. Eddie plucks the joint from Steve’s fingers.

“What?” Eddie asks, taking a drag from the joint.

Steve’s mouth is dry.

He reaches out, places a hand on Steve’s shoulder, but the angle is awkward, and his fingers brush-

His fingers brush his neck.

The spot.

It burns. Steve swears it burns the same it did.

God, Eddie’s music is so obnoxious-

Or was it Robin’s screams?

Where even was he? He stares at the door at the back of Eddie’s truck. He crawls toward it, and fumbles helplessly with the handle.

“Hey- Steve? It’s uh- It’s just Indica, man-“

“Gotta- Get out. let me-“ Steve’s hands are trembling- his vision is blurring- is it the drugs? His tears? Was this dying? Had he ever left that dark room? That sterile metal box?

Eddie tries to lean over to open the door, but Steve’s frantic movements leave him blocked off completely. He crawls into the front quickly, and hops out of the van, running to the back to open the door up.

And Steve nearly falls out of the back- if it hadn’t been for Eddie scrambling to break Steve’s fall, he would’ve ended up with a mouth full of dirt. And judging by the ragged breaths leaving Steve’s lips, and the unintelligible ramblings tumbling from his lips, that was the last thing he needed.

Eddie was no stranger to a bad high. No stranger to coaxing his customers out of a panic when they first tried a bit of weed- but this?

If only he knew.

Pre S4 Eddie who’s completely unaware of the true events of Starcourt.

Pre S4 Eddie clutching Steve Harrington’s face, telling him he’s safe. That he’s at Lover’s Lake. That he’s just having a bad high.

Pre S4 Eddie holding the King of Hawkins High in his arms as he shrivels into a broken mess of sobs, and apologies that echo against the silent trees of Lover’s Lake.

[scoops-aboy86]

Here’s an out of the ordinary career option for Steve: teppanyaki chef. You know, the guys at Japanese hibachi restaurants that do the whole show of cooking your food right there at a big grill on the table and tossing food into people’s mouths and flipping their cooking implements like it’s no big. 

Inspired largely by the fact that I had teppanyaki earlier this week and the chef, in addition to flipping eggs into his hat and then onto his spatula to break them, was making shrimp fried rice and spelled “I” with the shrimp, “❤️” with the rice, and “U” either the veg and egg. 

Just picture Steve, in the goofy tall hat that does even fewer favors for his hair than the Scoops hat, doing that with the same goofy grin on his face as during the lightsaber handshake bit.

Maybe rockstar Eddie comes in with the band and an entourage one night. He notices Steve making silly faces back and forth with Robin (one of the bartenders or a seating host or something) across the room, and thinks it’s cute. He joins in making silly faces at Steve, who is *delighted* and 100% starts doing it back because usually the customers are too wrapped up in their own lives to notice. 

Robin is a little annoyed that her work buddy has been co-opted for the night, but once she gets a better look at Eddie she just rolls her eyes and laughs under her breath because he is definitely Steve’s type. Then her eyes move a fraction to the left and she notices Corroded Coffin’s manager, Chrissy Cunningham, and immediately goes 😍 for the rest of their stay.

Steve is supposed to spread his attention equally around the table, and he sort of does, but Eddie definitely gets more food tossed in his mouth than anyone else. Maybe he brought a date (possibly a groupie, possibly just someone willing to put out for a celebrity, he’d just sort of shrugged like “okay, sure” when they attached themself to him) for the evening that he’s totally ignoring, because as far as he’s concerned no one else is as interesting as the pretty chef. The date gets visibly more grumpy, which the rest of the band definitely notices, but they all just sort of roll their eyes and sigh because Steve is definitely Eddie’s type, sorry friend, don’t know what to tell ya. Eventually the date gets up saying they’re going to the bathroom, but they take their coat. It takes Eddie, like, half an hour to notice. 

And Steve keeps doing those little flippy things, like with his ice cream scoop and the nail bat, all. The. Time. It’s not even a gimicky restaurant thing, he’s just Like That. He says he can do it with anything and Gareth immediately produces drumsticks (I have never met a drummer who did not have drumsticks on them at all times, often even when another pair has been confiscated), and Steve takes about three seconds to figure out how to twirl them like a pro. Eddie is already removing a ring to propose. Chrissy makes some sort of comment about being in the color guard for marching band (in addition to cheerleading) and speculating whether Steve could spin a saber or rifle and he’s so confident he could do it that Eddie is like, “When is your next break, that could be our honeymoon baby” because he is going to eat this man alive. 

Suffice it to say, Steve ends the night with his dick sucked and within a week he’s gotten Chrissy’s number for Robin, who he’s been talking up incessantly. A month later, he puts Gareth in touch with Will about some sort of artistic commission that Gareth wants, which eventually leads to Will finally ending his pining over Mike streak. 

Steve has to formally apologize to Jeff and Doug for not having any more single friends to introduce them to, but he promises to keep an eye out. In the meantime, have they ever tried Purple Palm Tree Delight? Because he knows a guy…

[pythoness94]

My favorite Jonathan ship is Jargyle and i'm honestly quite proud of that. like C'MON! You can't tell me that shit wasn't funny. They were stoned, all the time. "Can you pass the olive oil, that's wine." Had me cackling. Oh and "You need purple palm tree delight, go! Go! Go! GO!" Snaps fingers. "Got me stressed out and it's not even my girlfriend." He was SO real. They were such a good match, like Jonathan was so relaxed around him and not just because he was stoned as hell, it was like he was able to let everything else fall away with Argyle and confide in him without it blowing back up at him. I love them.

[jezebelblues]

Hi can you do another dad!Harry x reader where Niall meets atlas and he and Harry teach him how to play football and Harry Niall playfully argue about what team atlas will root for. And Niall also wants to teach him how to play the guitar.

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄 ࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔

⋆˚✿˖° 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛

summary: check the request u silly goose ^

also hello anon, thank u for the request <3 sorry it took so long! hopefully it’s smthn u liked :)

cw: dadrry 🤨, unedited

word count: approx 2.3k

| i’m trying to go in order with the requests ive gotten. a lot have been dadrry which i LOVVE however im gonna take the smallest breather from it because i’ve been wanting to get a few other things out that isn’t dadrry/kid related which i hope yall will still like :^)

masterlist

harry bent over and plucked a dandelion from the ground, its yellow petals nearly glowing in the gentle light. “here,” he murmured, tucking it behind atlas’s ear, nestled into dark curls that mirrored his own.

his boy squinted up at him, dimple deepening as he tilted his head, casting that same unguarded, easy smile. harry’s own grin met it, his eyes crinkling, his nose scrunching up just so. “sunny flower for my sunshine,” he said, voice a low, soft thing.

the world outside was painted in a wash of soft honeyed glow, every blade of grass dipped in a warm, dewy shimmer. somewhere overhead, the clouds stretched in lazy tufts, the kind that would drift by in no hurry, letting the sky peek through in swathes of baby blue.

they were tucked beneath the willow tree at the back of the yard, both of them shirtless, shoeless, and dusted with dirt. atlas sat cross-legged, his chubby fingers digging into the cool soil with the focus only a four-year-old could muster. he was on a mission, hunting for the little grey bugs he loved, the ones that rolled into perfect balls with the gentlest nudge.

“look, bub,” harry whispered, flipping over his hand to reveal one of the bugs crawling along his dirt-streaked palm. atlas’s face lit up, eyes wide and delighted. he gently took the bug, murmuring, “hello, potato,” as if the creature was an old friend. carefully, he coaxed it onto his own hand, watching it sprawl out its tiny legs, finally uncurling. “there y’are,” he said with a satisfied little sigh, his finger brushing gently over its shell before he let it crawl back into the soil.

harry watched him, struck by the quiet tenderness in his son’s movements, his heart swelling with a mixture of pride and awe. atlas’s world was so simple, and yet somehow so vast, filled with magic in places adults so often overlooked.

his son’s head whipped around suddenly, catching sight of a patch of tiny purple flowers hiding near his dad’s knee. he scrambled over, tugging a few loose with careful fingers, his face lighting up like he’d found treasure. harry chuckled, watching his son’s single-minded determination as he came closer, leaning down to face his dad.

“shh,” he whispered, pressing a finger to his lips with the gravest expression he could muster. then, with a careful hand, he began tucking the little flowers into harry’s curls, his small brows furrowed in focus. one by one, purple petals nestled into the messy locks until he was satisfied. “now we match, daddy,” he said, the faintest look of triumph on his face.

harry couldn’t help the way his heart tugged, warmth spreading in his chest. “mama needs one, too,” atlas murmured, glancing around with a serious look.

“does she now?” he stood, brushing dirt from his knees, lifting atlas onto his hip with a grunt. his feet made soft imprints in the grass as they moved toward his wife, who lay stretched out on a towel near the front yard, soaking up the late afternoon sun. her eyes opened as they approached, a gentle smile tugging at her lips.

“what kind of flower, do y’think?” harry mumbled, nudging atlas’s cheek with his nose.

atlas thought for a long moment, glancing between his parents. “m’the prettiest one.”

“now that’s a hard call, mate,” he chuckled. “your mum’s too pretty for just one flower, really. her beauty would outshine it.”

atlas didn’t quite understand, but he knew his dad was talking about how lovely his mama was, so he nodded, satisfied.

just then, the clink of a metal latch echoed from the house. niall appeared, hands on his hips, a football tucked under one arm, grinning as he made his way down the steps toward them. “ready for a bit o’ footie, then?” he called, his voice bright with that familiar lilting accent.

atlas perked up immediately, wriggling in harry’s hold. harry set him down, watching as he bolted across the lawn, little legs pumping as he met niall halfway.

“now, before we get started, little man,” niall began, crouching down to atlas’s level, “we need to sort somethin’ important.”

harry groaned, wandering over with a lazy grin. “oh, here we go. already brainwashing him, are ya?”

niall chuckled, tousling atlas’s hair. “only tryin’ to steer him right, yeah? see, atlas, your dad here likes the red team, manchester united.” he said it in a tone like he was explaining a tragic flaw. “but me? i’m derby county through and through. we’re the true underdogs.” he tapped atlas’s nose for emphasis.

atlas tilted his head, clearly confused. he looked up at his dad, brow furrowed. “the red team, daddy?”

harry laughed, ruffling atlas’s curls. “that’s right, mate. we’re united fans, us. always cheer for the red team.”

niall clutched his chest in mock horror. “ah, but atlas, don’t you want to support a real team, one with heart?”

atlas just blinked between them, completely lost but amused by their playful bickering. he didn’t quite get why it mattered, but he knew his dad loved the red team, so that’s what he’d cheer for, every time.

“alright, enough of that,” niall said with a wink, rolling the football out in front of him. “time for a proper match. let’s see what you’ve got, little man.”

“think y’can win, attie?” harry asked, grinning wide as he kicked the ball softly toward atlas, who stumbled back a step as the ball nudged his bare foot.

atlas giggled, a bubbling, bright sound that made both men laugh. he glanced down at the ball, brows furrowing like he was trying to solve a puzzle, then he looked up with a determined expression. “i can beat you,” he declared, puffing out his chest with all the seriousness a four-year-old could muster.

“oh, he’s got a bit of fire in him!” niall laughed, straightening up and adjusting the dandelion in the boy’s hair. “good lad. that’s what i like to see.”

harry crouched down to meet atlas’s eye level, his smile softening. “alright, bubba. let’s start with the basics, yeah?” he placed a hand gently on atlas’s shoulder, guiding him toward the ball. “all you’ve got to do is kick it nice and easy, right to uncle niall.”

atlas gave a determined nod, his little face scrunched in concentration. he took a step back, wriggled his toes in the grass, then swung his leg forward with a small grunt. the ball wobbled and rolled just a few feet, but it was enough to get a cheer from both men.

“that’s it!” niall called, clapping his hands together as he jogged forward to stop the ball with the inside of his foot. “perfect! now let’s try somethin’ a bit trickier, yeah?” he gave the ball a gentle nudge back toward atlas. “this time, try keepin’ it goin’. we’ll pass it back and forth.”

harry stayed beside him, his hand resting lightly on his son’s shoulder, offering small tips here and there as the ball rolled between them. atlas’s kicks were unsteady, more little taps than proper strikes, but each time he got the ball to move, his face lit up like he’d just scored a winning goal.

after a few minutes, harry stepped back, letting atlas and niall keep the rhythm on their own. he folded his arms, watching them play, the gentle back-and-forth, the easy flow of laughter. niall, ever patient, exaggerated his reactions to every kick, even the weak ones, stumbling back dramatically as if atlas had knocked him off balance. it sent atlas into fits of giggles, his small frame shaking with the force of it.

“look at that!” niall called, holding his arms wide in mock surrender after a particularly strong kick from atlas. “we’ve got ourselves a future champion here! sign ‘im up for derby now, i say!”

“oi, back off,” harry said, joining them again with a wide grin. he scooped atlas up, making the little boy squeal as he swung him around in a wide arc before setting him back down. “he’s stickin’ with united. right, attie?”

atlas just beamed up at them, not understanding but pleased to be the center of attention. “yeah!” he agreed, without really knowing what he was agreeing to. “the red team!”

“traitor,” niall muttered, though his eyes were bright with laughter.

“nah, he’s just smart,” harry teased, tapping the ball with his bare foot and sending it toward niall, who caught it with an easy stop. they moved seamlessly into a light game, the ball pinging between the three of them, atlas racing after every pass with a fierce determination.

niall leaned down, conspiratorially. “tell ya what, atlas,” he said, his tone lowering as if he were revealing a great secret. “if you can get the ball past your dad just once, i’ll let you wear my derby county jersey.”

harry raised a brow, feigning indignation. “oh, no you don’t. we’re not corrupting him with your bad taste in football, mate.”

but the boy’s eyes widened with the challenge, his cheeks pink and his grin growing mischievous. he turned, the tiniest flicker of determination lighting up his eyes as he faced his dad, who crouched down slightly, hands out in front like a goalie.

“you think you can get past me, bub?” harry said, a playful glint in his eyes.

atlas didn’t answer. instead, he lunged forward, feet slipping in the damp grass as he pushed the ball with both tiny feet, charging straight at his dad. harry bit back a laugh, shuffling to the left and blocking the ball gently with his foot. atlas let out a tiny growl of frustration, spinning around and kicking again, his effort all concentration and floppy limbs.

niall ran amuck from the sidelines, letting out hushed yells to mimic that of a roaring crowd. “go on, atlas! you’ve got ‘em! he’s not that quick, trust me!”

harry shot niall a mock glare but couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up as atlas kept trying, little determined sounds huffing from him with every move. finally, with a wide grin, harry let himself stumble just a little too dramatically, the ball slipping past him as atlas charged forward.

“he’s done it!” niall whooped, jumping in the air and throwing his arms wide as if they’d just won the league. “you got him, attie! you scored!”

he froze for a second, blinking in surprise at the empty space in front of him where his dad had been. then he let out a triumphant yell, arms shooting up in the air. “i did it! i did it!”

harry caught him up in his arms, twirling him around until atlas’s laughter rang out, loud and joyful. “you did, mate,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of his son’s head. “you got me.”

niall jogged over, slinging an arm around harry’s shoulders and holding his other hand out for a high-five, which atlas delivered with a delighted smack. “a promise is a promise,” niall said, grinning wide. “you’ll be gettin’ that derby jersey from me. though, your dad might never forgive me for it.”

“we’ll talk about that later,” harry said, giving niall a playful shove. then he turned back to atlas, setting him down and ruffling his hair again. “but for now, let’s see if you can do it again. think you’ve got another goal in you?”

atlas’s eyes gleamed with excitement as he nodded, puffing out his chest. “i can do it! m’the best player ever!”

“that’s the spirit,” niall said, positioning himself across from them and rolling the ball back to atlas. “ready when you are, champ.”

the afternoon stretched on, niall disappearing inside for a bit before reappearing at the back door, this time not with a ball, but with his battered acoustic guitar slung over one shoulder. the old wood caught the golden light just right, warm honey glinting off the curves. “thought we’d change things up a bit,” he called out, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. he settled onto the cool grass under the shade of the willow tree, cradling the guitar in his lap.

“oh, you’re quittin’ already?” harry teased, giving the football a gentle tap with his toe toward yn, who was standing barefoot a few steps away, her hair a soft tangle in the breeze. atlas stood between them, his little legs bouncing as he tried to mimic the back-and-forth passes between his parents.

“nah,” niall replied, the strings thrumming under his fingers as he absentmindedly strummed a chord, “just thought atlas could use a break from whoopin’ your arse.”

the little one giggled, spinning around in circles as harry pretended to stumble back dramatically. yn gave the ball a light kick back to her husband, the sunlight catching the bright colors of her sundress, and harry caught it with a playful flourish. the three of them formed a small, easy triangle in the yard, the ball moving lazily between them as niall started picking out a familiar melody.

“come here, little rockstar,” niall said, patting his knee and looking over at atlas with a soft smile. “fancy learnin’ a tune?” atlas hesitated, glancing up at his dad, who gave him an encouraging nod.

“go on, attie,” harry urged, scooping the ball into his hands to pause the game. “uncle niall’s got a song for ya.”

atlas’s eyes widened, curiosity shining bright as he trotted over, plopping himself down in niall’s lap with a trusting little wiggle. the guitar was far too big for him, the wooden body swallowing his small frame as niall adjusted the position, balancing the neck across atlas’s knees.

“alright, kiddo,” niall said, his voice low and patient as he wrapped atlas’s small hands around the neck of the guitar, guiding his tiny fingers to press down on the strings. “these are called chords, yeah? they make the music. we’re gonna try somethin’ special.”

yn and harry settled down in the grass just in front of them, harry’s arm slipping around her waist as they leaned back on their elbows, watching the scene unfold with soft smiles. atlas’s little fingers fumbled against the strings, pressing too hard and too light in the same awkward movements, but niall was endlessly patient, his hands covering the boy’s, guiding him with an easy confidence.

“this one’s called a ‘g chord,’” niall explained, carefully placing atlas’s index finger on the right fret, his own fingers moving over atlas’s to show him the way. “we’re gonna play a bit of my song, yeah?”

atlas nodded solemnly, like he understood, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in deep concentration. he strummed the strings with a jerky motion, producing a sound that was more discordant twang than melody. niall chuckled softly, adjusting atlas’s grip with a patient hand. “easy there, mate. it’s all about bein’ gentle, like you were with those potato bugs earlier.”

“like this?” he asked, his face scrunched in determined focus as he tried again, fingers splayed awkwardly over the frets. he plucked at the strings with all the finesse of a four-year-old, the sound shaky and uneven, but undeniably proud.

“that’s it!” niall encouraged, his voice warm and easy. “you’re doin’ perfect, bud. let’s try a bit more, yeah?” he hummed the opening bars of the song under his breath, guiding atlas through each shaky strum, the boy’s small fingers following his lead with a mixture of curiosity and pure, bright determination.

harry’s hand squeezed yn’s gently, his gaze soft as he watched his son try so earnestly. “he’s really into it, isn’t he?” yn murmured, resting her head on harry’s shoulder.

“yeah,” harry replied, his voice low, almost reverent. “reminds me of myself.”

atlas’s fingers slipped off the strings, causing a strange, discordant twang, but niall just laughed and nudged him gently. “no worries, champ. it takes a while to get it right. even i messed up plenty when i was young—ask your dad, he’ll tell ya.”

“he’s tellin’ the truth,” harry interjected with a grin, leaning back on one hand while still holding yn close. “used to be a nightmare. couldn’t get through a song without stoppin’ every few seconds.”

niall pretended to look wounded, pressing a hand dramatically to his heart. “oi, easy, now! this is a teachin’ moment, not a roast!” atlas giggled at the banter, his chubby hands clinging tighter to the guitar.

“let’s try again,”he suggested softly, tapping atlas’s little hand in encouragement. “i’ll help you with the chords, and you just strum when i say, alright?”

the curly haired boy nodded, his eyes wide and focused, and together they moved slowly, atlas’s fingers guided with care over the strings as niall led him through the simplest, gentlest notes of his song. it was more noise than song, a jumbled mix of too-loud and too-soft strums, but there was a rhythm to it, a quiet kind of magic in the way atlas’s brow furrowed with every sound he managed to coax from the instrument.

they played like that for a while, atlas’s small body wrapped in the circle of niall’s arms, the guitar humming under their hands, filling the late afternoon air with its uneven melody. the sun dipped lower, casting long, soft shadows across the grass, the golden light wrapping them all in its warm, fading glow.

when they finally finished, atlas let out a triumphant sigh, dropping his hands from the strings and leaning back into niall’s chest. “i did it,” he said with a breathless sort of wonder.

“that you did, little man,” niall replied, resting his chin lightly on top of atlas’s head, the smile in his voice clear as day. “you played your first song.”

harry clapped softly, his eyes shining with something tender as yn leaned against him, her arm around his waist. “we’ve got ourselves a musician,” he said quietly, his voice caught somewhere between pride and awe.

atlas beamed, his cheeks pink from the effort, his eyes bright with a happiness so pure and unfiltered that it tugged at everyone’s heart. “i wanna play another one,” he declared, turning to look up at niall with wide, eager eyes.

niall laughed, ruffling atlas’s messy curls. “we’ll make a rockstar outta you yet, mate. but maybe we’ll leave the heavy stuff for another day, yeah? for now, you did brilliant.”

they all sat there for a moment longer, the last traces of sunlight casting everything in a honeyed glow, the guitar cradled in atlas’s lap, his small hands still resting on the strings as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go. the world felt quieter somehow, the soft hum of the summer evening settling around them, and for a brief, perfect moment, everything was exactly as it should be.

[bylerlipglances]

Argyle Van Dashboard (unpacking Magazines)

1. 1985 California Thomas Bros. Road Atlas & Driver's Guide

(Not surprised) Duffers didn't go for the 1986 edition and instead went for the 1985 edition ('RAINBOW' cover, which was tricky to find)

2. Reader's Digest, Glove Compartment Road Atlas & Vacation Guide Pamphlet Book, 1986 (3 Keys)

3. High Times, Feb 1986

This cannabis magazine, 'High Times,' apparently has a ton of social commentary.

Notable ones:

Ronald Reagan's criticism, aids policy, anti-christ comparison, Earthquake in Mexico

Scrambler phone Advert.

Mushrooms

so i googled some facts about mushrooms:

Function of a scrambler is to ensure the privacy and security of communications by making them difficult for unauthorized parties to intercept and understand.

Scramblers are sometimes referred to as "randomizers" or "encryption devices". You can think of a scrambler as an encryption device for analogue signals – an analogue signal is a continuously varying, smooth signal, whilst a digital signal has discrete values.

(Hawkins Lab eavesdropping on phones)

Animals mentioned: Dragon eggs, Yellow ox, Green Tiger, Black Boar, Red Horse, White Turtle (to improve sexual vitality)

Purple PALM tree delight?

[love-byers]

haha mileven wedding true

The sound of wedding bells has never felt more...wrong. His black suit feels like a heavy burden, constricting his chest with each breath. Sweat beads on his forehead as he fidgets with the tight tie for the tenth time.

He stares at Eleven, who stands across the aisle in a beautiful dress made out of beautiful whites and silvers; adorned with different lace and fabrics. A small smile on her face, as her brows lift and her eyes swirl with something Mike can't quite place.

Across from her, Mike stands; out of place. His eyes staring blankly at her, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Mike?"She asks, her eyebrows furrowing in concern.

Mike takes a couple of seconds to reply, stepping back. "What's going on?"

Despite the fact Mike should be overjoyed he feels nothing but an overwhelming sense of wrongness, chills going up and traveling down the length of his spine.

"You don't... you don't want this?" Eleven says, her face dropping; just like it did when she fought with him over the letters

'You never say it' He remembers how her voice and face had sounded, and that not-so-great memory feels very relevant to whatever the hell is happening right now.

"N-No El- it's just i-" Mike stutters, his eyes slightly widening as he fails to grasp what's going on.

"You still can't say it." Her face shifts to one of anger, a drop of blood dripping down her face and onto her lip, as she puts her hand up in a claw; just as he remembers her doing so many times before.

but it changes.

it changes to Will, wearing the same black suit as he does himself. His hair slicked back and a soft smile on his face, his brown eyes slightly watery as he looks straight at him like Mike's something to be loved.

"I bet you could say it now." "Right Micheal?" Mike doesn't even feel surprised when he hears the gravelly voice of Vecna from right behind him.

Mike regrets smoking that purple palm tree delight.

HELLO??????? 😭😭😭

[planet-mabel]

book thief - niall horan

an: hellooo!!!! i was reading at the beach and could not get this idea out of my head so HERE WE ARE!! i hope you enjoy :) I'm cooking up part two right now

summary: a trip to bora bora leads to bumping into niall horan by the pool and accidentally swapping books!

wc: 1.8k

what i was listening to:

As I disembark from the plane, weary from the long flight and craving a good meal, I step into the Bora Bora airport. I've treated myself to a solo stay at a delightful resort here for the week, and the anticipation of this moment has been a beacon of joy during my busy days back in NYC. I yearn for some well-deserved relaxation, as the incessant bustle of New York's streets and blaring car horns can be overwhelming at times. As I make my way towards the baggage claim area, I take a moment to savor the view from the airport windows. Though it's just a glimpse, I can see fragments of swaying palm trees, and a sense of tranquility washes over me. Leaning against the baggage trolley, I pause, eagerly awaiting the familiar "beep" that signals the arrival of our luggage.

I catch sight of my obnoxious purple suitcase as it comes around the conveyor belt and quickly snatch it before heading over to the shuttle bus waiting to take me to the resort. After stowing my suitcase in the overhead compartment, I sink into the luxurious seat on the bus. While waiting for the other passengers to board, I take a moment to text my friends and family to let them know I've arrived. The bus engine roars to life as we set off down the road. I glance up from my phone and out of the window, cranking up the music in my headphones. I take in the beautiful scenery as we wind our way toward the resort. Looking around at my fellow passengers, I notice that they are all families and couples. A faint feeling of loneliness creeps in as I realize I'm traveling alone.

I let out a deep sigh, gazing out of the window at the serene, azure skies and the gentle, rhythmic dance of the palm trees swaying in the breeze, attempting to distract myself from the overwhelming sense of isolation.

As the shuttle comes to a stop at the resort, the passengers begin to disembark, and I patiently wait for my turn. Once off the shuttle, I make my way to the front desk with my bags, eagerly anticipating some rest and relaxation in my room. I provide my name and reservation to the woman at the front desk, and the concierge swiftly arranges for my bags to be taken up to my room. The humidity of the Polynesian air causes my t-shirt to cling to my skin as I wait. 

While the woman prepares my room key, I glance at a man nearby who is also checking in. His accent intrigues me, and I find myself admiring his appearance. I'm momentarily lost in thought until the woman's clearing of her throat brings me back to the present. After receiving the room key, I exchange a tight smile with the woman and mutter a quiet 'thank you.' As I head towards the elevator, I briefly meet the man's gaze before pressing the button and entering the elevator. I select the third floor, my hand tightening around the room key as the elevator ascends.

I stumble into my room, weary from the day's travel, and collapse onto the plush duvet covering the bed. Propping myself up on my elbows, I take in the surroundings. The TV faces the foot of the bed, and a familiar mini fridge rests beneath it. To the side, a closet is built into the wall, and opposite that, a sleek desk catches my eye. Across from the entrance, a sliding glass door beckons me to venture out onto the petite balcony. I rise to my feet and make my way to the small mezzanine, stepping outside to be embraced by a balmy breeze and a mesmerizing vista. I pause, closing my eyes, letting the scenery wash over me.

After re-entering the room, I gently closed the door and made my way to the luxurious en suite bathroom. I marveled at the elegant plumbing and the spacious, extravagant shower. I couldn't help but let out a whistle of admiration, feeling impressed by the lavish amenities, almost forgetting that I had only booked this place for a week but paid the equivalent of a month's rent.

I let out a contented sigh and realized that I deserved to unwind by the pool for the rest of the day. Without bothering to unpack, I quickly slip into the first bikini I lay my eyes on - a vibrant, eye-catching pink one. After ensuring that I'm thoroughly coated in sunscreen and throwing on a comfortable t-shirt for extra coverage, I grab my purse and the book I've been meaning to read. As I make my way out, I return to the elevator and descend back down to the lobby.

I hurry downstairs and make a beeline for the pool, scanning for an unoccupied, plush reclining chair. As soon as I find one, I eagerly lay down my belongings beside it, exhaling contentedly. After slipping on my sunglasses and discarding my t-shirt, I settle back, flipping through the pages of my book to pick up where I left off during the plane ride. The book in my hands is 'Violet Bent Backwards over the Grass' by Lana Del Rey. It may seem a bit unexpected for a beach trip, but I have a fondness for poetry and adore Lana Del Rey, so I thought it was worth a chance. Immersing myself back into the pages, I lose track of time, captured by the words on the pages.

I slowly rise from my lounge chair, feeling the stickiness on my back from the sun's rays. Deciding it's time to take a break from tanning, I toss my book onto my chair and head towards the glistening pool to cool off. As I settle by the water's edge, I take in the mesmerizing sight of the swirling pool while dipping my toes into the refreshing water. Surprisingly, the area is deserted, giving me the perfect opportunity to submerge myself in the pool. I resurface, gently wiping my eyes before reclining on my back and savoring a tranquil moment, finding relief from the intense heat of the island air.

I emerge from the water, climbing the steps in the shallow end. The droplets slide off my glistening skin as I make my way to my chair. As I approach, I notice a man sitting in the chair next to mine. I recognize him as the guy I saw in the lobby, engrossed in a book. I glance around at the empty seats on the pool deck, wondering why he chose the one next to me, and furrow my brow in mild irritation. Despite my annoyance, I take a moment to study his appearance. His unkempt brown hair and pointed nose catch my attention, as does the way his scruffy stubble complements his deep blue eyes. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I finally reach for my towel. I clear my throat to catch his attention and he looks up from his book, smiling softly. He gestures to the book in his hand and I immediately clock it as ‘Violet Bent Backwards over the Grass', the same one I’m reading. I glance down at my chair in search of my copy, not completely sure he didn’t swipe mine. I clear my throat to capture his attention before speaking.

"Excuse me?" I managed to pipe up, my voice a blend of nervousness and amusement. "I think that might be my book." With my towel wrapped tightly around me, I glanced down at him. He met my gaze and then looked down at the book in his hands before responding.

"Oops, my mistake," he chuckled and handed the book back to me. "I noticed it here and thought someone must have left it behind. The title seemed intriguing." I reclaimed the book and settled back into my chair. "I didn't even realize you were here, geez. If I had known, I wouldn't have sat so close." His over-apologetic tone made me chuckle softly.

"No, it's okay. I'm traveling alone, so I appreciate the company," I assured him, readjusting in my seat. "Have you read it? It's a good book, isn't it?" I say enthusiastically as I glance back at him, thumbing through the pages again. He nods before replying.

"Absolutely! I can't resist a well-crafted poem," he responds with a nod, gesturing toward the book of poems resting on the arm of his lounge chair. I let out a soft chuckle in response. 

"Ah, cool. Nice to meet another poetry enthusiast," I say with a smile before returning my attention to my book. I sense his persistent gaze on me before he speaks again.

"You mentioned you're traveling alone?" he inquires. "So am I." I look up from my book, slightly puzzled. 

"You? Why's that?" I ask, marking my place in the book and placing it on my lap. 

"You first," he counter-challenges. 

I shrug before responding, "Just needed a break. New York can be overwhelming at times, and none of my friends were up for splurging on a vacation," I explain, gesturing dramatically. "So, here I am, flying solo." I give a somewhat forced grin, and he chuckles. 

"Same here," he remarks, leaning back in his beach chair. "You mentioned New York City? Sounds exciting," he comments. I nod slightly.

"Yeah, mostly. How about you?" I inquired, curious to confirm my suspicion about his distinct accent. 

"Dublin," he declares proudly. "Dublin, Ireland." I raise an eyebrow. 

"So that's where the accent comes from," I remark slowly, raising an eyebrow. 

"I don't have an accent; you have an accent," he retorts playfully, feigning a scowl, which elicits a soft giggle from me. He grins at me, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

"Well, I should head back to my room. The chlorine always does weird things to my hair," I say with a soft chuckle as I pick up my bag and wrap my towel around my waist. He sits up in his beach chair to look at me.

"Hey, let me buy you a drink later," he suggests, gazing up at me. I take in his shirtless form reclining on the chair in front of me and for a moment, I struggle to find my words.

"Um, well, okay," I say hesitantly before regaining my composure. "Yes, that sounds good." I offer a soft smile, trying to conceal my unease. 

He nods and continues, "I'll see you at eight at the hotel bar." He stands up and I nod in response. 

an"I'll see you, book thief," before giving a small chuckle and walking from the pool deck back into the lobby. As I leisurely make my way back to the door, I hear his quiet laughter echoing behind me. A grin spreads across my face, and in that moment, I feel as lighthearted and carefree as I did in my teenage years.