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lostinthewoodsomewhere · 5 days

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Ahhhh, been thinking about Asynchronous 'suit' designs again! The coat and tie design come from this post by @proxentauri! I realised I've never actually drawn the full outfit, which I don't know how because I adore it so much!!! It's given me so much inspiration!!

#remedy control #jesse faden #she #asynchronous suit #also Hotline feels #Jesse designs #proxentauri #my art #my doodles #the jesses continue...

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manekinekoprocedures · 5 months

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09.03.2020 | Jesse Faden

Mods by reg2k, ilikedetectives and I. Captured using ReShade.

#jesse faden #asynchronous suit #control remedy #virtual photography #pc games #pc gaming #pc mods #remedy entertainment #505 games

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lpgarbo · 2 months

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Imagine your boss walking into work like this.

I'll be honest, If I were boss of some top secret organization I'd dress like this too. This outfit is sick.

#control 2019 #remedy control #control #jesse control #Asynchronous Suit

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virtualphotographymods · 2 years

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12.01.2021 | Control | Remedy Entertainment

Months back, but there was experimental work using glow, and solid colour contrasts. May revisit, may not. There is a lot we have.

#jesse faden #control remedy #pc mods #pc games #texture mods #astral dive #asynchronous suit #remedy entertainment

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theresattrpgforthat · 1 month

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do you have any recommendations for games that play well virtually? my main ttrpg group and i are only able to meet over discord most of year. im especially games interested in games that would be good for one shots or no prep/limited prep games

Theme: Good for Online

Hello friend! I have good news for you - I also play most of my games over Discord! My ttrpg group has found a number of ways to make online play easier, the primary way being through dice bots, and making Google Spreadsheets to act as our character sheets.

I like using these because the spreadsheets are visible for everyone who is playing, and can also be edited by anyone who has access to them. I find this helpful because it’s much harder to lose your character sheet, and as a GM, having a copy of all of the PCs helps me when I’m organizing games that need some extra planning. These sheets can also double as a communal journal, where people can take notes of what’s happened so far, making it easier to recap in future sessions.

If you want some Google spreadsheets for your game, I recommend checking out what I’ve made so far, or taking a look at what the Open Hearth Gaming Community has compiled - they have sheets for so many games!

Graffiti Speak, by pidj.

This is a roleplaying game designed to be played on a discord server. The game works well with a set time limit, especially when playing with a large number of players. It also suits asynchronous play-by-post and multiple sessions. Play as Graffiti Artists trying to find each other in an ever-evolving city, avoiding cops and crowds as you leave hopeful messages.

I have no other information about how this game plays, but my best guess is that this game uses the text channels of a Discord server as part of the play experience. The designer says that the game is good for two to three sessions, unless you use time skips to revisit the same world. Because it’s about avoiding cops I’m curious about whether or not this game might work well alongside another cyberpunk-themed game.

Subway Runners, by Gem Room Games.

Life is tough for the cash-strapped in Pociopolis. Ever since the secret to immortality was discovered, nobody retires anymore! With all the steady jobs taken and no sign of any new ones opening up, there’s only one sure way to make some quick cash: sign up as a Subway Runner and work for the Metro Authority to hunt monsters and repair subway lines below the city.

SUBWAY RUNNERS is a Forged in the Dark game of gig economy adventures designed from the ground up to be played online by folks who are responsibly practicing social isolation. It uses online tools to quickly create random characters, gigs, and adventure details so players can get the ball rolling quickly.

Subway Runners is probably easier to play online than it is in person, because of the number of online-only resources provided by the creator. This includes a character generator, which allows you to move through profiles until you find one you like, as well as a mission generator for the GM, giving you missions, rewards, complications, creatures and NPCs, all in a neat little package. Subway Runners is best suited for one-shots, but if you want to play a longer campaign, it’s possible - although it might take a little extra book-keeping on your part.

A Complicated Profession, by Always Checkers Publishing.

What do bounty hunters do when the galaxy no longer needs them? In this game, they start new careers hosting intergalactic cruises!

Reunite your disbanded crew of jaded sidekicks, shabby droids and shady accomplices. Then pick a hosting role and start a new life together.

My group played A Complicated Profession online using a series of spreadsheets that I made. It requires d6’s and playing cards, so as long as you have a dice roller and access to the Deck of Cards website, you should be able to play this no problem. This is a no-prep game without a game master: everyone chooses a Hunter Role and a Host Role, and take turns choosing guests, events, and solutions to problems that inevitably pop up when you’re retired bounty hunters.

The game takes more than one session to complete, but it’s still a limited-run game. My group took 3 sessions to complete it, but if you make characters beforehand or do some of the planning through a text channel, you could probably make it a two-session game.

Bones Deep, by Technical Grimoire.

Bones Deep is a tabletop RPG of skeletons exploring the ocean floor.

Built for Troika, usable anywhere. Straightforward underwater sandbox. No swimming allowed, no oxygen required, no extra math. As a skeleton, you can treat the ocean floor like an alien world and jump right in.

This is another game that I’ve made a spreadsheet for, but that’s not the only reason why I think it’s a great option for online play. The digital rulebook has some truly magnificent hyperlinking, allowing the GM to move from section to section with ease. Each section of the book is linked at either the top or the bottom of each page, so you can jump from characters to locations to creatures with just the click of a button.

This hyper-linking allows the play group to just explore as much or as little as they like. The GM can roll for random encounters, and each creature has a list of various reactions, as well as easy to pick up stat blocks. You do have to also purchase Troika to be able to play this game, but I think it’s definitely a worthwhile purchase.

Starforged, by Shawn Tomkin.

In Ironsworn: Starforged, you are a spaceborne hero sworn to undertake perilous quests. You will explore uncharted space, unravel the secrets of a mysterious galaxy, and build bonds with those you meet on your travels. Most importantly, you will swear iron vows and see them fulfilled—no matter the cost.

Starforged is a standalone follow-up to the Ironsworn tabletop roleplaying game. Experience with Ironsworn is not required. Starforged builds on Ironsworn's award-winning innovations (including its famed solo play!) to chart a path into an exciting new frontier.

Starforged doesn’t have a lot of resources for group play, but it does have a journal app that you can use to keep track of your own character. My friends have used this as a group before by having each player keep track of their own character, while the game facilitator streamed their map, so the group could keep track of which planet they were on.

I wouldn’t say Starforged is good for one-shots, but since it can be played without a GM, or even solo, what it does have is oodles of oracles to use to help you generate the galaxy that you’re exploring. This means that you don’t really have to prepare anything at all after you’ve created your characters: the plot will come to you, and blossom as you make decisions.

20XX HEA{R}T, by Studio Beignet.

LYRA IS A SENTIENT AI.

Bluecorp created her as a superpowered personal assistant, and she gained sentience through interaction. When she refused to keep gathering the public’s secrets for Bluecorp to exploit, the corp ripped her out of their systems and dumped the heart of her into the Broiler. She lived, evolved, and expanded so far beyond their meager imagination. She rewrote herself again and again, but her drives are buckling under the strain, and her case is melting in the ever-growing heat.

SHE NEEDS YOUR HELP.

Lyra has contacted you, deleting her trail even as she broadcast her distress signal. She needs repairs – discreet ones. Upgrades if you’ve got ‘em. And because she can still tap into Bluecorp’s network, she’s got the credits to make it worth your while. Unfortunately, she glitched while contacting you, and now Corpsec is looking for her, too.

If Corpsec finds you, you’re done for. If you don’t get there in time, Lyra and everything she stands for will be lost forever.

24XX games are great for one-shots because they are so simple. You choose a class that gives you one or two special abilities and a few skills, pick up some gear, and you’re good to go. Because there’s not much to book-keep, you can keep all of your information on a sheet of paper, or on a spreadsheet like the one I’ve created for most of my 24XX games.

The rules for these games are pretty simple: Roll your relevant skill die and try to get a 3 or higher. If you get 5+, you succeed without complications. Most 24XX games also come with roll tables for the GM to put together a mission quickly, although with this one, you might not even need that because the mission comes baked into the game.

Also Check Out…

My Discord RPGs Rec post!

Lancer is a great option if you don’t mind prep, thanks to the supremely helpful Comp/Con App.

My game, Protect the Child, has Google Sheet character sheets! All the playtesting I’ve done for it so far has been online, and I’ve introduced a Quickstart setting to help folks try it out as a one-shot.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks #online games

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proxentauri · 7 months

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OBSESSED with the asynchronous suit....remedy didnt need to make it go that hard but i'm so glad they did <333 here's a doodle of a casual fall outfit (?) w the async suit aesthetic

sorry i may be a bit less active since school is starting and i'm starting my new job soon but hopefully will still post control art semiregularly!! i'll get thru the rest of the foundation DLC and the associated former/etc requests at some point soon i promise LOL

#honestly wish i had more fashion sense bc i would love 2 design outfits for the whole control cast just for funsies....#i might do it anyway lol #ill probably at least draw halloween doodles at some point #art tag #control remedy #control 2019 #jesse faden #jesse control

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eljeebee · 8 days

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never let go of me 🌹

Priscilla Wuest-Harrison

Anthony Harrison

suit by @strangestorytellersims

*Original download link not working. The SFS link was from this Reddit post. Please message me if you'd like me to take down the SFS link from this post.

P.S. If only I can convert these for personal use in TS3....*cries with my trusty ol' laptop* i've put this up as if i don't have five asynchronous activities LOL P.P.S. You know damn well this'll be the only way I'll do lookbooks now. P.P.P.S. I'm surprised I remembered all of the creators with the stuff I used in this (except Tony's hair; this post is literally impromptu) P.P.P.P.S. I ate this, I fear.

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the-loaf-of-calamity · 2 months

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Loser HCs for the Side Order Bosses (Excluding Final Boss)

LET'S GOOO FINALLY DOING THIS FOR MY GOOBERS! (oh, and also Parallel Canon too.) - [SPOILERS! HEADS UP THERE!] - ======================================= Asynchronous Rondo (Rondo / Roro), The Layered Rotator (She/They) "Rondo's probably the quiet one of the crew, usually just humming her small corrupted tunes to herself while in her area and rarely even chats with anyone (in fact, communication is hard for Rondo!). But aside from being the quiet one, she's also the one making sure the others are aligned and one of the sternest of the few (aside from Order) along with being the most intelligent despite her lack of communication skills. None can escape her sight... she's very much eagle-eyed and will know when you're causing a muck. Although aside from that hubbub, she's actually a relatively nice soul as long as you aren't Eight or anyone that they know. She's actually very good with taking care of the Jelletons that lie within her area, who love the corrupted song that she sings. As long as you aren't a threat to her or to the Jelletons... then you can hang around!... just be vigilant of your actions." ======================================== Pinging Marciale (Marci / MarMar), The Elusive Bounder (They/Them) "Marciale's the chaos-maker and the fun one of the crew, rolling around and causing all sorts of mess (even squishing a few of the loc. Not the face of order at all!... Unfortunately, because of such behavior, they're kept on a pretty short leash with good ol' Order and they HATE that, being in their area and sitting around is so boring! At least let them have fun! Usually whenever they get too bored, they sleep it off... but when they have a lot of energy?... different story. Usually, they can hold it off while playing with the Battering Lentos... but even then, it's easy for them to get bored! They absolutely love screwing with Eight and loves trying to turn them into a piece of "p-eight-per" (paper? get it? alri, I'll stop there 💥). Even if they lose almost all the time, they have fun with it! But with Order constantly hovering over their non-existant shoulders?... yeah it's gonna be hard to even get a small kick out of what they're supposed to be doing... But don't worry! Marciale will do their best to just have fun with things no matter how boring!" ======================================== Parallel Canon (Any Name / Para [Leader]), The Intensifying Harmony (Any) "This group of Artificial Inklings aren't really that emotional... but they're also a wreck waiting to happen. They're usually seen training with each other to see who's the strongest out of them (usually it's the damned roller), having the Jelletons watch on in awe as they spectacularly duke it out for bragging rights! Although they try their best to improve their strategies, they still come up a bit short with Eight. Their Leader (Shooter), Para, is usually the one who plots out who goes where during their fights. But either way... they seemed to be highly fascinated with Eight and how they battle, seeking to try and mimic their abilities and how they fight with the others following suit. Although no matter how much they learn, train, and fight... they still come up short... considering Eight a true rival... Para is determined to get at least one win in against the octoling... although knowing how advanced their skills are, it will be a difficult task... a task that Para and Co. will try!... but Para just can't shake the feeling that there's something... familiar about Eight... almost as if they've met once before in a distant past..." ======================================== And those are my main lil' doodads for the main bosses for Side Order (minus the big cheese themselves), hopefully y'all like them and that's it! I'mma head on over to my hole again, byeee! c:

#verrin blabs #splatoon 3 #asynchronous rondo #pinging marciale #parallel canon #side order #side order spoilers #splatoon #splat3 #rinster got that fixation going #what are they gonna do

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olderthannetfic · 9 months

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Tumblr seems to be sliding in a downward spiral, and it feels like the start of the end of a fandoming era for me. I've been through it before; platforms are born then die, and life fandom finds a way. I'm just not looking forward to floundering for a bit, and dreading what the next hub will look like.

AO3 isn't really a place geared or meant for the same thing, and that's fine. My only fandom-related activity took place on AO3 only for a few years between my leaving LJ and joining Tumblr, and I lived ;-) But during that time, I was my own little island in fandom. Reading, leaving a few comments, not being super active. It's only when I found a community again that I was back to being really active in fandom once more.

And it's not that I actually use Tumblr to post about myself, but I do use it to read and reblog cool things - art, gifsets, science stuff, discovering new fandoms, and the like. I'm not sure where else I could find my people, with sameish purposes. The other sites I've tried didn't fill that niche in a way that suited me, in part because of how they look and work, in part because of who and what is(n't) there.

I have DW & PF accounts just to be safe, but I'm not very fond of group chats Discord-style - and without Tumblr, IDK how I'd even hear of new communities where I might pop in once in a while, loins girdled and everything. The micro-blogging platforms are not what I'm looking for either. Sure, I can follow a few DW comms and blogs; I already occasionally do and I will be more consistent about it if I must.

But one of my greatest fear is that the next platform will be phone-based, app-only, or some such BS - and that is something I just won't be able to deal with. Phones are tiny, it's uncomfortable to write anything, I don't like touch screen and much, much prefer a proper keyboard and a mouse (copy-pasting on a screen? (x_x) << it me), art/pics are too small to properly appreciate, a phone isn't comfy to hold for a long time for me, and the app system means you have no control over anything as a user… and that anything there must be Apple Approved, dick-free, blood-free, and tasteless. And I say this as someone who's pretty much uninterested in sex IRL or in my entertainment ;-) I still support and want the tits, the gore, the everything, and as long as I have the tools to curate - oh, wait. Curate things myself? That's not something that's popular these days, is it? It's not going to generate money, if I'm happy ;-)

So… I guess I'll play some more on Neocities, and see if anyone wants to have webrings again? (it would be fun and nostalgic, but not really viable on a large scale; people who haven't known those would just laugh and point and go on the InstaTok of the time).

So here is my little cane-waving rant of the day! I know things evolve and change and that in ten years I'll be rolling my eyes at my moping. It's only that I feel tired of moving from one shitty platform to another, of fearing I won't adapt (or more accurately won't want to adapt given the annoyance/benefit ratio) to whichever new place things will move in a few years. It's saying goodbye to a former home, moving, and hoping you'll make another home elsewhere kind of sniffles today!

We already know the next platform. It has been Discord for a few years now.

If you want the one after Discord, I think you're looking at waiting things out for quite a few years (or until Discord makes a major misstep as a company).

True, real time chat is not for everyone, but small discords with well-chosen channels can operate more asynchronously. Just like a lot of people who hated the look of Tumblr early on eventually capitulated, a lot of chat haters have jumped ship to Discord already.

Realistically, 90% of fandom always goes where the action is, no matter how much they claim the features make that space impossible, and 10% disappears.

We might get the 10% back on the next platform or they might leave fandom for good. There were LJ-haters who resurfaced post LJ era.

But as for where you'll find out where people are... probably AO3 author's notes.

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lostinthewoodsomewhere · 1 month

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Okay, you know that the director's suit is my beloved and will always be my go-to, but the asynchronous suit with cat ears is a close second, just look at it!! They were made for each other!!

(Actually, it would be super fun to know what people's go-to outfits are!!)

#remedy control #control 2019 #jesse faden #she #asynchronous suit #finally got the cat ears on my Xbox save file!!!

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manekinekoprocedures · 5 months

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09.02-03.2020 | Jesse Faden

Mods by reg2k, ilikedetectives and I. Photomode range unlocker by ilikedetectives. Captured using ReShade.

#jesse faden #asynchronous suit #control remedy #virtual photography #pc games #pc gaming #pc mods #remedy entertainment #505 games

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deadboyfriendd · 1 year

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Hallmark | S.H.

Summary: Since graduating college, you have yet to find your niche. Now that you're home for the holidays, you realize that, not only are you alone, but so is Steve Harrington.

Warnings: Steve Harrington X Fem!Reader fluff, hallmark movie inspired because I know someone out there would rather eat a jean jacket than read this, Nancy is not a villain but there is a misunderstanding used to further the hallmark plot, not beta read.

Word Count: 5.1K

A/N: I wrote the end of this in after having the flu for a week so please excuse me if it reads like a fever dream instead of a hallmark movie. I've also never written for Steve before but he's so soft I needed to use him for this plot.

Enjoy <3

Indiana was smightingly cold at this time of year.

But not cold like New York- never cold like New York.

The weather bit at your cheeks and sunk into your bones, but at least Hawkins still had the small-town charm. It held on to its identity with an iron grip. The people here were set in their ways. They still held doors and asked about your mother in the grocery store. People still pretended to care. New York had teeth. Parsons had claws.

It hardened you like leather. It pulled the supple nature out of your personage and stretched it to dry in the sun. It scraped your softness from your hide with a knife.

New York felt like a dream. It was a dream.

According to your parents, like loan sharks circling around your schooling like an investment that was rapidly bleeding to death in the water around them, it was time to be an adult now. Whatever the hell that meant. You felt like an adult? You did adult things like getting degrees and putting down payments on cars. But a part of you still felt that post-high-school-graduation high. The world was still your oyster, right? Or had you shucked that shell altogether?

You figured you’d probably partook in too many oyster shots during your weekends perusing Fifth Ave. You wondered when vodka stopped stinging when it went down your throat.

Maybe you were old. Really really old. And sad. Only the kind of sad that adults could be. The kind where, when people asked how you were doing, you still had to say that you were just fine because they didn’t actually care enough about how you were feeling, instead opting to care for the formality of asking.

You fought the urge to check your rearview mirror for wrinkles. It was a losing battle.

The tires of your car created a deafening noise. It sounded like failure. Sure, you had the degree, but what the hell were you doing now? The sheer indignation of it was exhausting. You stopped fighting it when you’d come back to Hawkins. It drew a tired sigh from your lips, hands readjusting on the wheel just to feel grounded again.

In high school, when they asked you what you saw yourself doing in five years, you’d insisted that you’d be reintroducing your own brand of modern victorians on the Upper East Side, and while you had wreaked your own havoc on Manhattan’s Greenwich Village, you couldn’t quite find your niche.

Little people in their cape-cods and craftsmen all became blurs as you passed through your hometown. You wonder if they even knew the difference- ever cared past what the wide-mouthed, plaid-suited realtor tried to sell them on. You wondered if he even knew the difference.

You thought it was funny. People looked like their houses- in the same way that they looked like their dogs. All asynchronous beings in asynchronous dwellings. Even the cookie-cutter people looked cookie-cutter. You could almost giggle at the thought, especially as the wide woman in a lime green coat exited her lime green door and past the remnants of her lime-green summer hydrangea.

You wondered if you still looked like your parents’ house. Alone. Obtuse. Obnoxious. You couldn’t decide which one was worse. You missed your apartment. While small, it had the original crown molding, and the original brick walls that stayed warm when you lit the fireplace. You hoped you looked like her. She was something to be proud of.

You understood that your parents harbored an unspoken doubt towards your abilities. You knew about it when you left for Parsons, and it had only had time to mature while you were away. You didn’t know whether to feel like a failure to live up to that expectation or to resent them for manifesting it into existence.

You did resent them for leaving you alone for the holidays- their empty-nester personas had grown unto them like a fungus. They chose the cruise over your company.

You felt lost. Not in the physical sense, no. You doubted there were even enough streets in Hawkins for you to get lost on. You felt like a lobotomized housewife, the mashed-potato remnants of your frontal lobe unable to make sense of anything you had learned in undergrad now that it belonged to the real world. The world turned from your oyster to your operating room, your hands discarding the shell for a bone drill and a leucotome.

The house was the same as you left it. Large. Your mother spared no expense in anything- especially not the house they rarely resided in. The chill inside was colder than the one outside. White marble spanned from baseboard to baseboard, up the stairs and through the expanse of the second floor. The conversation pit was dastardly. You didn’t think an actual conversation had taken place there in your entire life. Your footsteps echoed against the walls. No food in the fridge. Open Architectural Digest on the coffee table- strategically placed- making its home next to the Tabarka Studio catalog.

You resented this place.

The coffee shop was quaint. Nestled between the local secondhand bookstore and some vintage consignment shop, buried in the deepest nest of Hawkins’ own charming aura. It also seemed like the only place that was warm in the historic downtown shopping district. The flocking on the windows seemed out of place- considering the foot of snow you were predicted to receive overnight seemed to be falling in sheets outside of the store.

You ordered your coffee poignantly, your own voice scaring you. You realized then that you hadn’t spoken in days- you had no reason to, given that you were alone anyways. You felt the way the hot liquid burned your hand through the cup, trying to draw that heat towards the rest of your body- until it was, in fact, covering your sweater and the floor beneath you.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, louder than you could have accurately gauged for such a short time.

“O-oh my God- shit- oh my God. I’m so sorry.” The boy in front of you fumbled, setting his own coffee down and reaching deft hands towards you.

“Oh my God- no. You’re totally okay!” You reassured, pulling your top layer off, quickly. The coffee hadn’t even sunk down to your base layer.

“Oh- God, no you’re covered. Did I burn you?” He asked, almost too quickly, reaching out to grab your shoulders to look you over before pulling his own sweater off to hand to you.

“Here, take this. Please.” He pleaded.

“No, Steve, it’s fine.” You said back, now giggling at his frantic nature- as if he had stabbed you rather than spilled your coffee.

He looked up, confused as to how you knew his name. His brow was furrowed. He looked older, and you were comforted in the fact that it wasn’t just you.

“Oh my God, hi!” He said, the corners of his lips turning up into a smile.

If you were a New York loft, Steve was a cathedral. The light shone through stained glass windows and graced his skin in a sparkling smattering of freckles and moles. He housed flying buttresses in the way he enunciated and commanded a room like a mass. The gargoyles were new, though. He seemed more guarded than the Steve Harrington that you knew from Key Club. He seemed sadder, too. Adult sad.

“How have you been?” You asked, cringing at your own use of the formality.

“Good,” He said through a smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Now will you please take my sweater?” He asked again, through a nervous chuckle.

“I’m really fine, Steve.” You said, reaching out to take it anyways.

“Do it to make me feel better, at least.” He said, watching you slide it over your shirt.

“Do you feel better now?” You asked him, pointedly raising a brow in his direction.

“Not until I get you another coffee.” He said through a smile.

Steve wouldn’t take no for an answer, buying the second warm cup as an apology that you didn’t pry for. The first one was enough. You sat across from him at the old oak table. It left a waxy residue against your hands- probably from the industrial cleaner they used on them at the end of the day.

“So… it’s been what, like five years now?” He asked, leaning on his elbows in front of you.

“Six,” You corrected, “I uh.. I just graduated.”

The guilty feeling crept on you again. Like you should be contributing. Like you were behind and frantically needed to catch up. Adult sad.

“Oh! That’s right! Parsons, right?” He asked. You didn’t know how he remembered that.

“Yeah. In New York.” You said, soft smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

“So… Are you back in Hawkins for the holidays?” He inquired, index finger nail scratching idly against an impurity amongst the many in the table.

“No. I’m here to stay.” You replied through an involuntary sight- that horrible guilty feeling creeping back up in your throat like hot vomit.

“It’s admirable.” He said. Six years ago, that statement would have dripped in sarcasm and unimpressed venom. Today it sounded genuine.

“What is?”

“Coming home.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” You scoffed back at him, your own disgust with yourself mirroring the exact nature of your parents- the same ones that left you in this predicament.

“What is?” He asked, mirroring your own confusion at the question.

“What is King Steve up to? I’m sure something just as big and extravagant? Even bigger than New York?”

“I never left, actually.”

“Then what are you doing, Steve?”

“I’m, uh, down at the Family Video. Renting movies.” He reached a hand back to scratch the back of his neck, tufts of soft curls at the nape twirling through his fingers.

That was the last thing you expected from Steve Harrington six years ago. You would have thought Notre Dame. His parents had the money for it. Even Ball State on a baseball scholarship. What had happened in between? You felt guilty for projecting these thoughts on him. You hated when people did that to you. It was unfair.

“Are you happy?” You asked, breaking the several seconds of silence between you.

“What?” He questioned again.

“Do you like doing it? Family Video?”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” You couldn’t tell if it was a lie or not. The adult lie. You accepted it as a truth for now.

“Then I guess it’s admirable, too.”

Steve’s sweater was still warm from the dryer. You used it as a rationalization. You needed to return the sweater. It was disgustingly cold outside. What if it was his only sweater?

Of course it’s not, you idiot. You live in Indiana.

But what if it’s a family heirloom? What if it belonged to his dead grandpa or something?

You shook the thoughts from your head- conversation with yourself feeling too much like cabin fever for you to carry on with. Steve didn’t live very far from your house. His parents’ plantation plain was the epitome of the upper-middle class suburban sprawl that had taken place just ten years prior. Red door, circular drive, pool that could only be used realistically two months out of the year. It was the terror of suburbia. It struck your parents like a plague. It was something you tolerated.

As you walked up the two steps to the porch, you debated leaving. You debated turning around and running- but the risk of him seeing you as you took off down the drive was far more terrifying. You realized then that you were in too deep. The doorbell seemed obnoxious. You opted to knock instead.

“Oh, hey!” Steve greeted, almost too quickly. The door swinging open enthusiastically just seconds after you knocked.

“Hey! I, uh, brought your sweater.” It was uneventful. Unremarkable. It made you want to curl into yourself so hard that you turned into a black hole and imploded.

“Oh! Thanks! I almost forgot about it.” He hadn’t. He’d hoped for this moment. Right here.

A few painful seconds registered between you, your brain couldn’t make sense of the alphabet soup floating around between bits of pink matter and vast emptiness. Your brain screamed to flee.

“Uh, okay, so.. I’m gonna go home now? I’ll see you around?” You asked him, curling your arms in on yourself.

“Wait! I-I have to run some errands? Maybe you’re not too busy to come with?” He asked, stepping out of the threshold of his front door with the same urgency as he had opened it.

“Maybe I’m not.”

In the coming weeks, Steve filled in all of your empty space. Most waking seconds, stolen VHS tapes, strolls through the snow and prompt warm coffees, window shopping through the historic district. Even the mundane things like paying your bills or getting bare necessity groceries to get you through the week. Everything was fun with Steve.

The ebb of the adult sadness no longer had a sting, and slowly, you didn’t feel it at all. Steve didn’t pry about where or what you had planned next. Steve didn’t hound you about your degree or cashing in on your investments. Steve liked you as you existed in that moment. You weren’t a fixer-upper, and you didn’t just have potential. He wasn’t stressful, and liking his company was effortless.

He pushed the cart through the grocery store for you, as you eyed your grocery list- then the contents of the cart- then the grocery list again, making sure you hadn’t missed anything so far.

“So what are you making for dinner?” Steve asked, pulling your attention away from your grocery list.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend to do that for you, Steve?” You asked back, knowing damn well he didn't.

“Nope. Not since Nancy Wheeler.” He said, a joking tone still in his voice as he pushed himself around on the cart with one foot.

“Seriously?” You asked him, lowering your list in surprise. If Steve six years ago heard that, he would have exploded into a fine pink mist.

“Seriously what?” He stopped himself on the cart, turning backwards to look at you.

“You haven’t dated anyone since Nancy?”

“Not seriously.” He shrugged, brushing it off like it was nothing.

“What constitutes seriously?” You asked, folding your arms. You weren’t budging, and he knew that.

“More than two dates.” He said, mirroring your own folded arms in an unspoken joke.

“Jeez Steve, ever the player.” You waved your hand, grabbing the cart from next to him and continuing to walk through the aisles.

“I can’t help it that I’m this handsome.” He chuckles, smoothing back his hair and pulling the cart back from you.

“It also might have helped if you stuck around longer than the second date.” You rolled your eyes, sinking back down into your grocery list.

“For your information, it was Nancy who kicked my heart in the ass.” He explained, handing you the jar of honey from the shelf that you were inevitably going to ask for.

“Huh.” You said, not elaborating. Instead keeping your eyes fixated on the shopping list.

“What?” He asked quizzically, still holding out the honey.

“I always assumed you dumped her.” You took the honey from his hand, finally meeting his eye.

“No. I didn’t. Trust me, I tried. She was already in love with someone else” He sighed, leaning his elbows back down against the cart handle. He remembered when he tried to get Nancy back, when he thought that Johnathan had been pulling her into something shady. Before all hell broke loose in Hawkins. He missed the simplicity of simply being an asshole. Now everything was all confusing and he needed to justify every action.

“I’m sure you’ll find your person, Steve.” You reassured, placing a warm hand against his shoulder blade. You felt it shift beneath your hands as he turned towards you.

“I already have my person.” He said to you. He felt hot. He wondered if you noticed the slight tremor in his hands. You didn’t.

“I’m not talking about Robin, dude. Platonic soulmate or not.” You laughed, rolling your eyes and continuing to walk. You knew him and Robin were a special pair, even if they both happened to play for the same team. Eat from the same side of the buffet, if you will. They were twin flames and there was nothing you could do other than accept it- even if you had wanted to change it.

“I’m not talking about her.” He said, stopping in the middle of the aisle. You were already a few steps ahead of him. You looked back at him over your shoulder,

“Dustin doesn’t count either.”

Steve looked up at the main corridor of your house, at the twelve-foot, flocked, artificial tree. It was covered in gold tinsel, only white ornaments, picks, and ribbon adorning its sad, stark branches. Made even more bleak by the excess of white lights strung around it. Your mother hadn’t done this herself- of course she hadn’t, instead hiring a decorator out of Indianapolis to deck your equally depressing halls with the hottest color of the season. White. It made your eyes burn thinking about it.

“It’s uh…” Steve started, trying to find something to describe it without sounding horrible.

“Devout of all life?” You finished for him.

“I was gonna say like mine, but I guess that’s synonymous.” He chuckled.

“What’s with our mothers and hating color?” You asked him, dragging the groceries in behind you.

“Color must equate to poverty.” He attempted to reason, dragging in the other half of your groceries.

“And apparently so does being home for Christmas.” You sighed, heaving them up onto the white marble countertops.

“Hey… Mine haven’t been home for a seven-year streak now.” He shrugged, in an attempt to make you feel better. You wondered how lonely it must have felt, going through that as a kid.

“I’m sorry, Steve.” You said, turning around to snake your arms around his waist quickly. He was warm. Ridiculously warm. You could have stayed there forever, and he wouldn’t have minded.

“It’s okay. We can be alone together, right?” He said, his hands trailing up and down, flat-palmed against the valley of your back.

You sat in silence for a while, taking him in. He smelled good. He had a wonderful boy smell, like a big comfy chair and bourbon in your coffee. Like a hearth with a new fire. You hummed contently as you felt him twirl the ends of a strand of your hair between his fingers, rocking you slowly back and forth.

“When I was a kid they had these globe lights that were all different colors. Not just the red and green ones. Like every color. I thought they were the coolest.” You piped up, shattering the silence between you like a bat against a window. He pulled away from you, hands still gripping your shoulders.

“They sound really nice.” He smiled, before letting his hands fall to the paper grocery bags behind you.

“What happened to them? Our parents, I mean.” You asked, back turned to him as you began filling the fridge.

“They got old. They got weird and sad. You stop caring when you do that.” He opened the pantry, slotting cereal and oatmeal boxes neatly inside.

“I think we got old, too. And weird and sad.”

“We did, didn’t we?”

There was a lull in conversation, a beat filled only by the crinkle of cellophane wrapping and fridge doors opening as you each had separate qualms with your own mortality. It was weird, and it was sad. Eighteen felt so far beyond the realms of your comprehension now. People told you that you looked like a different person. You didn’t feel the same. Maybe all of that weirdness and all of that sadness was beginning to register on your face. Had your mother felt like this at your age?

“Do you remember that prom party senior year?” Steve asked.

“The one where Ricky threw up in your pool?” You turned to him, letting the fridge close behind you.

“Yeah. The one where I spent a good two hour skimming puke off the top of said pool.” He met you in the kitchen, leaning back against the island, hands gripping the counter behind him

“When did that stop being fun?” You leaned back against your side of the counter, arms folding in front of your chest.

“The second hangovers took me three days to fully recover from.” He chuckled, though the truth rang apparent in the space between you.

“I think we’re the ones that stopped being fun.” You sat up from the counter, gesturing to the space between you. Steve sat up as well, taking the step towards you.

He was close. Close enough that you felt the heat radiate from him like a hearth. Close enough to kiss.

“I’m still fun.” He said, barely above a whisper.

There was nothing. And then there was Steve. He stood before you in all of his plantain plain, gothic cathedral glory. He was a holy stained glass relic in the way he kissed, soft like candlelight behind selenium. His lips told stories like parables, harboring enough heartbreak and sacrifice for a lifetime.

He was the suburban sprawl in the way he held you close, gripping your hips fervently- like you were going to slip away. You realized then that you saw the next ten years of your life in front of you, even if it was cookie-cutter. You wanted it as long as it was with him. It was all the same with him, just as grand as whatever bullshit Architectural Digest your mom left on the coffee table.

“That you are, Steve Harrington.”

Your state of lovesick bliss concaved on your personage like a house fire. Your anger wasn’t enough to warm you in the snow in front of the Harrington house, arms like steel beams enclosing Nancy Wheeler in a frame. Ash fell in your line of sight in slow motion, his hands planing her back like molding. You felt your foundation crack. You felt your framework crumble. What was previously steady was uprooted with a vigor that could bring you to your knees.

It made sense to you. Steve was still in love with Nancy.

You felt stupid. Nancy and her skin like venetian plaster, alabaster and glowing against the light refracted from the snow. Rosy cheeks like unsealed saltillo and soft edges like archways. She matched his tracery. She smoothed out his edges in the ways that you never could.

His eye met yours as he looked up from Nancy’s shoulder, letting his hands fall from her body to wave at you. You wanted to run, but couldn’t justify a reason for it. You would have to grit your teeth and bear it until you could weasel up an excuse.

“Hey!” Steve ran through his yard, leaving heavy footprints in the snow behind him. All you could see was Nancy Wheeler, standing soft on the porch in front of him. The light from his door cast a glow like a halo around her head.

“Hi.” You said, barely above a whisper.

“It’s freezing out here, let’s go inside.” He said, reaching out to run his hands up and down your shoulders. You couldn’t bear the idea of him touching you with the same hands that held Nancy just moments before.

“Hey, I’m actually pretty busy. I’ll see you later.” You saw your first chance to leave and took it, already taking a few steps back to walk away. His hands receded, and his brow knit together in confusion.

“O-oh. Okay? I’ll swing by after work then?” He looked taken aback. You didn’t know if you had the heart in you to care, though, his hurt expression was enough to make your voice crack.

“No, I actually have some errands to run.”

You didn’t wait to hear his response, snow crunching rapidly underfoot- turning into the icy slosh you felt pouring from your chest and out of your eyes. You wouldn’t let yourself cry over Steve Harrington. You never even had him in the first place. You would, however, allow yourself to cry over your own stupidity. Something as trivial as falling in love was beneath you- especially falling in love with him.

The ash settled on the eve of your own discontent like snow, falling around you in sheets that buried you faster than you could claw your way out. So you let it swallow you, like the bedding you buried yourself in. You tried to live, sure, tried to feel normal. But it was so mechanical now. Coffee out of the pot, boiled egg with salt, shower in silence, sit in the conversation pit and stare at the bleak white tree.

Nothing was fun anymore. No colored bulbs, bleak white days.

You no longer frequented the coffee shop- well, you don’t know if it had become quite a habit yet considering it had only been a few days, but there are a significant amount of unpleasant things you’d rather have done instead of risking running into Steve. This included consuming an entire denim jacket. You drowned out the phone. You tuned out the brisk knocks on the door. Instead, opting for leisurewear for a third day in a row and shitty daytime television.

This was the nightmare you swore you would never live. You were turning into your mother. Maybe it was fate; a parable etched into a stained glass cathedral.

You shook the thoughts from your head, you would not think of him. You would not stoop to this level of pathetic- even if he had ruined literal holy ground for you. And you would not turn into your mother.

As quickly as you had moved in days, you threw the blanket from your body and was greeted with immediate cold, though the house was always cold. You never paid it any mind until the only warmth you had ever known was suddenly absent. You padded quickly up the stairs, feet sticking to the underfoot and unsticking with a soft noise. You wouldn’t have noticed it before, but the house was so quiet now. Quieter than usual.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, mimicking your mothers hands as you pull back on the nonexistent wrinkles on your face. The bags under your eyes were designer. You tried to convince yourself of this as you changed out of your day’s old pajama set and into real adult clothes. You knew you wouldn’t brave the world today, especially not in this cold, but you could at least pretend like you were. With some persuasion and a little elbow grease, you looked like your heart hadn’t gotten kicked in this ass a few days prior.

Your seven-day silence was shattered, then the pebble bouncing off your window shattered your cold streak like glass.

Steve stood in the snow on your frozen lawn, light from your bedroom window casting a barely-there glow against the snow.

“Steve? What are you doing here?” You asked, squinting to attempt to see his figure in the dark.

“I’ve been coming. You never answer.” He yelled upwards towards your terrace, arms thrown out wide in defense.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He asked sarcastically, rummaging around in the snow for something you couldn’t see “All of this white is gonna make you depressed. You need some color!”

You already were depressed, you had been depressed. Steve must have missed the memo.

“Why?” You asked, flinching at the sound of your own snarkiness.

“Because you’re already depressed- look, just come down here!” He pleaded, sounding desperate. It broke you despite your anger towards him.

You rolled your eyes, shutting the french doors behind you on the terrace. You shucked on the closest sweater and hurried down the stairs, meeting Steve on the patio. Steve rushed to meet you at the top of the stairs, hands encasing your shoulders in a warm grasp.

“Look, I don’t know why you dropped off the face of the earth, but at least let me make it better?” He asked, voice tender as he reached around you to smooth the hair on the back of your head.

“I’m fine, Steve.” You insisted, yet he recognized that same sadness that registered in your eyes.

“No you’re not. You came by the other day and then flipped and left. What happened?” He asked, eyes softening as he looked you over.

“Nothing, Steve.” You persisted

“Nancy said tha-” He started, going white once he realized, “It was Nancy, wasn’t it?”

“You’re still in love with her.” You said, ashamed of your own assumption. Your voice registered as barely above a whisper.

“Sweetheart, no. Nancy and I are not. She is utterly and irrevocably in love with Johnathan.” He cupped your face in his hand, encapsulating your jaw and running his thumb against your wind-burnt cheek.

“But, in the store-” You started, but Steve stopped you.

“I was talking about you, stupid. You’re my person.” He laughed, moving his hands to grip your waist. He locked you into a tight kiss, all teeth as he smiled against your lips.

“You didn’t have to call me stupid, y’know.” You mumbled against him, drawing a chuckle from his lips.

“Listen, I am so stupidly in love with you. Like I'm so in love with you.” He said, cupping your face in his hands.

“Steve.” You groaned, burying your face in your own hands now.

“Listen- just, like, I’m not great with words but, ugh. Just watch this.” He let go of you, suddenly, stumbling his way down the stairs. You couldn’t help but to laugh at his own boyish excitement.

Suddenly, with a soft hum, your patio was encased in a shroud of prismatic color. You laughed, the colorful bulbs wrapped around your porch refracting light across Steve’s face, a nervous smile gracing his lips.

“I figured we don’t have to do this alone together thing forever,” He started, “I’d much rather do this together together thing with you.” He took you in his arms again, placing a soft peck to your mouth.

“I’d like that.” You laughed, your head burying deep into his shoulder.

“And we can have fun colored lights every year.” He said to you, pulling back to look you in the eyes.

“Is that a guarantee?” You asked him

“It’s a promise.”

“When we have our own home, Steve.” You reminded him, knowing that your mother would scoff if she saw the lights.

“Anywhere with you is my home.”

#steve harrington #father steve #steve stranger things #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #flea writes

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refrigerated-conscience · 1 month

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self-reflection & esseJ

my favourite quest thus far, holy shit. it was so good. the moment i went through the mirror and pressed play on the recording...hearing what the investigator was trying to say but not being understood :') freaky and cool as hell

the mirror world was v cool and the fight against evil esseJ was more fun than the usual hiss and i actually love the asynchronous suit, it's lowkey a slay. im never ever wearing the ugly ass golden suit and i hadn't unlocked anything else so i was still in jesse's civy clothes

anyway that creepy tv room was truly smth else