Aspiring writer, fanartist, graphic designer, songwriter, and any other hobbies I have. Jack of all trades. Sanctified in Christ. Idk how tumblr works, someone help me. Ao3 at the same @
Okay, why am I posting this like anybody is ever gonna read it?
But yeah. Hello there!
I'm pevensiechase!
My Ao3 username is Alexa_Etman, so I guess you can call me Alexa or Lexa. Heck, I'll even take Al. I s'ppose you could also call me "pevvie" or "chase", but it doesn't sound as natural. Edit: my family tumblr tree calls me "Lexi" <3
I'm very new to tumblr, so bear with me.
I'm apart of a family tree on tumblr
I write fanfiction, but I also dabble in fanart and graphic design (this usually consists of half-baked animatics, character line art, playlist covers, and book covers).
I do take commissions, but I have a life outside of tumblr, so I can't promise that they'll be speedy. Also, please keep everything PG.
Currently, I'm apart of these fandoms:
DC (Batfamily specifically)
Dsmp Qsmp
Star Wars (I don't like the sequels, but I won't come at you if you like them)
Clone Wars
Hunger Games
Lord of the Rings
Narnia
Percy Jackson
MCU
Keeper of the Lost Cities
All my art will be tagged with "my art", and all my random posts will be tagged as "mine" and "random thoughts"
Edit:
Other Tags: "alexa's takes" (stuff i say), "alexa's tags" (tag games), "alexa's asks" (asks), "alexa creates" (art/writing), “pevensie’s poetry” (for poetry, usually stuff I write in the tags), "lexi verse" is all things related to my writing/other AUs
My handle for Ao3 is the same (@pevensiechase). And yeahhhh. Feel free to drop by anytime, I guess.
pairing: jonathan byers x oc (Lynn MacAllister), could be imagined as jonathan byers x reader
summary: a busy summer leaves lynn feeling left out. lynn struggles with nancy and jonathan's relationship and the fact that she lost her chance, but when jonathan calls her she immediately picks up.
warning(s): spoilers for season 3, fighting/arguing, first person pov
The phone rang, and I glanced at my clock: 10:00AM. Everybody who would be calling me should be at work. It rang again. I rolled over in my bed and laid on my back, staring at the ceiling while it rang a third time.
“Alright, alright.” I groaned aloud, forcing my feet out of the covers and onto the rough carpet.
I begrudgingly shuffled to the ever-ringing phone.
“MacAllister residence,” I grumbled, probably incoherently.
“Lynn?” Jonathan Byers’ voice questioned on the other end of the line. “Hey, sorry, did I wake you?”
“Jay?” I yawned. “Aren’t you…aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
I stretched, feeling a bit more awake. “In your cave, with your red light?”
He sighed. “Yeah, uh…can you come over?”
“What?” I checked my wrist then remembered I hadn’t put on my watch yet. “Now?”
“Uh…yeah.” By the tone of his voice, I could imagine him sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Is that okay?”
“I looked down at my pajama set. “I-Jay, it’s gonna be about an hour. I gotta make breakfast, and my brother has the car until this afternoon, so I’d have to bike over-”
“I can pick you up! And make you breakfast. I do it for Will and Mom all the time.”
The way his voice lit up almost made me want to agree. Just for a split second. And then I remembered…he had a girlfriend.
I just laughed. “It’s alright, man. I got some leftovers I gotta get rid of, and if you pick me up, I don’t have a way home. I need the car from my brother to babysit the Bakers tonight.”
“I can get you home in time to babysit the bakers.” He prodded.
I exhaled and scrunched up my face as I contemplated. “Fineee. Give me thirty minutes, will you?”
Jonathan chuckled. “You got it. See you in thirty.”
“Okay, see you!” I had to force myself not to giggle like a school girl as I hung up.
Nancy Wheeler was not a jealous girl. She was actually quite nice, if not a tiny bit entitled. She actually had no problem at all with Jonathan and I’s friendship, and as summer would have it, I barely saw him at all, and not enough for her to be concerned. I didn’t think she would be so okay with it if she knew I’ve had feelings for Jonathan since I’d practically met him. Granted, it’s only been a few years, I just thought I had more time.
I pulled myself away from the wall and into my room. I started brushing my teeth and walked towards my closet, multitasking. What should I wear? How should I do my hair? Should I curl it? Should I bring out my new blouse? Is it cute enough?
I rubbed my forehead, embarrassed I had even let myself think those questions. Geez, I didn’t think it would be this difficult. I may be a lot of things, but a cheater isn’t one of them. And I realized I was brushing for too long, and the toothpaste was more like watery mint now. I forced myself away from the closet and back to the bathroom where I splashed cold water on my face after rinsing my mouth out.
He has a girlfriend. You lost your chance. He’s just a friend now. I repeated to myself as I hit play on my cassette player and let ABBA distract me with the sound of 70s disco.
I set out a pair of jeans then turned towards my shirts. My hand hesitated as I reached for a band tee. I redirected and grabbed my favorite light blue t-shirt instead.
After getting dressed, I decided to just brush my hair and tie it back. One less thing to worry about. I paused ABBA to hurry into the kitchen, realizing Jonathan would be here in ten minutes.
To my disappointment, the leftovers I had planned on were not in the fridge. I closed the door roughly and stood there with my hands on my hips, trying to think of an easy breakfast. I opened the ridge again, but the casserole container did not magically appear as I hoped. I spun around to the cabinets and decided to grab two oat bars and an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter. I regretted brushing my teeth before breakfast because I realized I couldn’t even enjoy a glass of orange juice.
I rubbed the apple off on my shirt and took a bite that had a nice, satisfying crunch to it. I was mid-bite when I heard a knock on the door. Crap. I stuck the half-eaten apple in my mouth, holding it between my teeth, and shoved the two bars into my front pocket, hoping they wouldn’t fall out.
I raced back to my room and grabbed my sneakers and jammed my feet into them. In my rush back to the dining room, I slid into a kitchen chair before wildly moving for the front door. I threw it open and only then realized what a mess I probably looked: out of breath with the apple still in my mouth dripping juice down my chin, my shoes half-tied, and my hair falling out of the strunchie. Definitely a mess, especially compared to Jonathan still in his nice work clothes looking what I can only guess as amused in the doorway.
I immediately stood up straight and took the apple out of my mouth to wipe the sticky juice off my chin.
“Hi,” I grinned then pursed my lips when I realized there was apple skin stuck in my teeth.
Jonathan burst out laughing. That was a nice sound. “Do you…need a minute?”
“No!” I crossed my arms stubbornly and tried to use my tongue to wiggle the apple bits loose. “But if you’re not in a rush, I think it’s probably better if I finish the apple here.”
“I’ve got time.” He leaned against the door frame.
I faked a smile to hide the fact that I was definitely trying not to check him out.
“Come on in,” I made a grand gesture welcoming him through the door then realized I still had the apple in my hand.
He leaned against the counter as I shut the door and lounged in a kitchen chair.
“So,” I smacked, taking a big bite out of my apple. “When’d you become a polo guy?”
“Huh?” Jonathan looked down at his polo and khakis. “Oh. This summer, I guess. It’s for my job…at The Post.”
“Ah, I see. I thought you’d finally started going to church.”
He laughed. “No. It’s not Sunday, anyway.”
I shrugged.
“So, these are the “leftovers” you turned down my excellent breakfast-making skills for?” He gestured to the apple I was finishing off.
I pouted, knowing this was his way of saying “I told you so.”
“My brother took them to work.” I grumbled.
“Yeah, well this isn’t breakfast,” Jonathan raised his eyebrows as I tried to toss the apple core into the trash can next to him.
It missed.
We both stared at it.
“Don’t start.” I waved him off.
He held his hands up, “I didn’t say anything.”
I stretched my legs to get out of the chair, and Jonathan reached for the core at the same time.
Our hands brushed.
I froze for a half-second before snatching the apple and chucking it into the trash. I winced, walking over to the sink. What if he’d touched it? It had been in my mouth. My face grew warm. Quickly rinsing my hands off, I got rid of the juice then reached for a paper towel. I dried my hands and wiped my mouth. I squished the damp towel in my hands and eyed the trash can.
Jonathan caught my eye then held his hand out, chuckling.
“I could have made it.” I made a face as I dropped the towel into his open palm.
“Right,” he tossed it into the trash can. “Like you made that apple?”
I stuck my tongue out at him.
“You ready?” Jonathan strode towards the door.
“Yep!” I tightened my scrunchie and followed him.
“You gonna finish tying your shoes?” He played with his keys.
My cheeks felt hot. “I can..tie them in the car.”
“Don’t trip,” Jonathan headed down the front steps as I locked the door with my house key. “Also, I’m making you breakfast when we get to my house.”
“What?!” I spun away from the door. “No, it’s okay! I have these!”
I yanked the bars from my pocket and bounded down the stairs after him. Unfortunately, I was too focused on watching him get into the car that I missed a step and nearly pitched forward.
“You sure you don’t need to tie your shoes?” He snickered.
“It wasn’t the laces!” I stomped over to the passenger side.
Jonathan was still laughing when I got in the car.
“Shut up!” I shoved him playfully. “It was the step!”
“Okay,” He smiled.
‘It was!” I argued, tying my shoes, careful not to put them on the seat.
Jonathan glanced over after starting the car. “You don’t have to tie your shoes in the air.”
“I don’t want to get the seat dirty!”
He chuckled. “Lynn, it’s an old car. I’m surprised it made it over here.”
“I knew you should have let me bike over!” I exclaimed but lost my balance when he backed the car up.
“If I let you bike over, it would have been another thirty minutes.” He reasoned, checking the rearview before pulling away from my house.
“Alright,” I grumbled. “What was so urgent you needed to risk your car to save half an hour?”
Jonathan’s face dropped.
“Um.” His voice caught in his throat. “Can we-can we wait until we’re at my house?”
“Uh…sure…”
“Thanks,” he cleared his throat, and I watched his eyes dart around. “Uh, music?”
“Oh, okay.” I raised an eyebrow but quickly corrected my face.
Both our hands reached for the radio, and not for the first time today, our fingers brushed.
I yanked my arm back like I’d just touched a hot stove.
“Sorry,” I forced a laugh. “Driver gets to pick.”
“Do you have a preference?’ He turned up the volume, and the end of a Runaways song played through the speaker.
“This is fine.” I managed, trying to discreetly feel if my face was warm.
“Call Me” by Blondie played next, and I sat up, my heated face forgotten.
“I love this song!” I started dancing in my seat and pretending to play the guitar.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Jonathan start to relax a little, his grip on the wheel not so white-knuckle anymore.
“Call me!” I sang into an invisible microphone. “Call me any-anytime.”
I paused. “Hey! You kinda did!”
Jonathan whipped his head towards me. “What?”
“You know, called me…any anytime!”
“Heh. Yeah I guess I did.” He looked less than amused, distracted at best.
Tough crowd. I turned to stare out the window. Geez, I didn’t think a fifteen minute ride could be this tense. As we drove past the fields and scraggly trees, my mind drifted. Why wasn’t he at work? Did something happen? Was his brother okay? Was Nancy okay? Where was Nancy, anyway?
“Hey, where’s Wheeler-” I started at the same time he said,
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so-”
“Oh.” We said at the same time. “You first.”
“No, you first!” I argued.
“No, it’s okay. Mine can wait. Ladies first.”
“Oh…thanks. I just-I was just going to ask where Nancy was.”
Jonathan stiffened again.
Ooh…wrong question. A small, very small, part of me got hopeful: breakup? And I hated it.
“What?” he managed. “Can’t a guy hang out with other girls without his girlfriend?”
I made a face. My eyebrows definitely did something beyond my control. “...no…that kinda defeats the point of having a girlfriend.”
He sucked in a breath. “Yeah…sory, that came out wrong. What I meant was…Nancy won’t be joining us.”
“Oh, okay.”
A Queen song played, but I didn’t have the heart to sing along. Thankfully, it was only three minutes into “Bohemian Rhapsody” when we pulled up to the Byers’ house.
The car sputtered to a stop, and Jonathan put it in park, turning the key. We walked up the front steps in silence. I regretted tying my shoes the way I did because they were way too loose. I kicked the wooden step with the toe of my sneaker.
Jonathan unlocked the front door. His house was…quiet. Like it used to be before the end of the world struck. Strangely quiet.
Walking towards the hall, I noticed a few magnets on the floor and a piece of paper. I paused and picked them up. The paper had a coloring sheet of a man flying in a suit and tie. The bottom left read: BOB NEWBY SUPERHERO in red crayon. I stuck it back on the fridge with an apple magnet and stared at it.
I’d met Bob a few times. He was really nice. And the only one who knew about my feelings for Jonathan. He stopped me one night after dinner and said he caught me staring. He said he understood what I was going through and that Joyce never looked twice at him in high school. I joked that I hoped I wasn’t in my forties when I got to make a move.
“Hey.” Jonathan’s quiet voice snapped me from my memories as I realized I still had a magnet in my hand.
“Sorry,” I stuck it to the fridge. “Just remembering him.”
“Yeah. My mom…she still really misses him.”
“I bet.” I turned away from the fridge and followed him to his room.
For the most part, it was exactly the same. Then I noticed Nancy’s dress thrown over the back of his desk chair, and I opted to sit on the old carpet. I leaned on the bookshelf with his cassette player and crossed my legs.
“Any new tapes, Byers?” I fiddled with the buttons.
“Yeah, I made a new mixtape for Will. I just haven’t given it to him yet.” He popped it into the slot and pressed “play.”
To my surprise, Jonathan turned the volume down and sat heavily on his bed.
“Oh,” I shifted toward him. “Is this the mysterious reason you called me here this morning?”
“Yeah,” he groaned.
“Well…” I prompted.
“I got fired this morning.” He dragged his hands over his face.
My jaw dropped.
“...and Nancy and I got into a fight.”
My eyebrows furrowed. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, trying to find my voice.
“Yeah, I know. I don’t know what to do…it all happened so quickly.”
“Wait-wait wait wait hang on…” I interrupted. “You got into a fight because you got fired? Or…you got into a fight…and that got you fired? Or are those things unrelated? Also, you called me at ten. You start work at, like, nine. You got into a fight and got fired in an hour?”
“Nancy’s been investigating a lead our boss told us to drop, and I told her not to go behind his back because it was really dangerous, and I didn’t want to risk our jobs.” His voice strained as he grew frustrated. “But she just kept pushing, and our boss found out, and he fired us both because it involved this old lady, and she might sue-”
“Wait, why would an old lady sue?”
“It’s a long story. It got us fired, and on the way back, we got into this huge fight. I said she shouldn’t have pushed, and she said she wanted our coworkers to take her seriously.” Jonathan gestured wildly with his hands as I picked at the carpet. “And yes, they do treat her like an errand girl, but that’s just the way the world works! And I…brought up her privilege-”
“Oh, yikes.” I sucked in a breath.
“Because I can’t afford to lose this job! And then it escalated to, “well maybe we have different goals right now.”” He flopped angrily on his back, causing the bedframe to shake.
“So…why did you call me?” I uncrossed my legs.
“I…I don’t know…” Jonathan ran his hand through his hair as he grasped for words.
My heart dropped.
“And you knew I’d pick up.” I muttered, staring at the pattern in the carpet.
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
Oh no. I felt tears well up in my eyes. No. I took a deep breath. Hold your composure.
“So, you blow me off the whole summer, but the second things don’t work out with you and your girlfriend, you come running to me-” I tore my focus away from the carpet.
“No, Lynn.” He pleaded. “It’s not like that.”
“You came running to me,” I repeated. “Because you’ll know I’ll pick up?”
My voice cracked, and took another break. I will keep my composure.
“I didn’t blow you off! We were both working!”
“You didn’t reach out!” I shouted. So much for keeping my composure.
“You didn’t reach out!” he rose from the bed.
“I didn’t come running to you with all my problems the second my life fell apart! And believe me I could have!” I jumped up and got in his face.
Jonathan slumped back down. “I finally had free time-”
“You’re a weak man, Jonathan Byers!”
“I know!” He exclaimed.
I felt a release in my chest when I said that. A weight lifted. A weight which was immediately replaced by a creeping realization. And I’m weak too, for dropping everything the minute you need me. Why?
“And you wanted me to comfort you and solve all your problems. I’m not going to be your backup for Nancy Wheeler.” I said spitefully. My face was probably flushed from anger.
“You’re not a back up!” He yelled in frustration.
We both exhaled intensely.
“Yeah,” I flopped back on the floor. “I know.”
I could never be a back up for Nancy Wheeler. I knew that.
A moment passed as I figured out what to say.
“Jonathan.” I scooched over by the bed. “I know that all the closest people in your life need you. Your mom needs you as a son but as the stable one, and Will needs you to be his brother and a father figure. You’re the son, brother, father, and breadwinner all at once.”
He looked at me expectantly.
I diverted my gaze to the floor.
“And I know that with Nancy, it…” I carefully chose my words. “Felt like she was the first person who wanted you.”
“Yeah.” He managed.
I turned my head. I wanted you. I wanted to say. I cleared my throat instead.
I met his gaze. “So…what are you doing?”
“Is it wrong to want a break?”
He was always a quiet guy, but the tone in which he said that could only be described as small.
My heart froze.”A break from her, or a break from the relationship?”
“Not the relationship. Just…from her, I think…right now.”
“Well…” I finally moved up to the bed. “Y’all work together right?”
“Yeah.”
“So, I expect you’re seeing a lot of each other. It’s probably not healthy to be with your girlfriend all hours of the day. She should be a priority, but you don’t have to spend every minute with her.”
I hated that I was giving him dating advice when I would date him if he ever asked. I was weak. Weak for him.
“You’re right…I guess…I’ve been so scared if I didn’t see her, I’d lose her.”
“I don’t think you’d lose her that easily.”
“And I’ve neglected my friendships. I’m sorry.” He looked at me.
“I’m sorry, too…for not reaching out. And for calling you weak.” Because we know I’m a hypocrite.
We both smiled weakly.
Then my stomach growled loudly.
He laughed as I blushed.
“So…” I rocked back and forth on my heels. “About that breakfast you promised?”
pairing: jonathan byers x oc (Lynn MacAllister), could be imagined as jonathan byers x reader
summary: after being paired up for a school project, jonathan and lynn have a talk about an ironic pin that leads to a deeper conversation on vices.
warning(s): mentions of glass breaking, drinking, and cigarettes; smoking, first person pov
categories: fluff, friendship (technically supposed to be a ship, but nothing romantic happens)
word count: 305 words
A/N: I binged seasons one and two of Stranger Things for the first time, and somehow I became a Jonathan girlie instead of a Steve girlie. I like writing as original characters in first person because I was raised by Percy Jackson, and it helps me process characters.
So here's the first one shot I wrote!
I sat on the back porch railing. My hands shook as I fumbled for my pack of cigarettes. I meticulously pulled one out and stuck it in my mouth, reaching for my lighter. I heard the back gate swing open, and I knew it was Jonathan coming over to work on our group project. I shook my lighter which refused to light.
“Hey,” he nodded, hopping the porch railing.
I nodded back, eyes still trained on my faulty lighter.
“You need some help?”
“Nah,” I tossed the cigarette to the ground in frustration then looked up. I saw Jonathan eyeing the cigarette then the pins on my denim jacket. I could only assume he was looking at the one that said “SMOKING KILLS”.
“I…didn’t know you smoked.”
“Ironic, isn’t it?” I fiddled with the pack in my hand.
He shrugged. “We all have our vices.”
“I suppose,” I scoffed. “Please tell me yours isn’t drinking. I know, it’s hypocritical as I literally have an addiction to these death sticks…”
My fingers trembled, and I clasped my hands together tightly to make them stop. “But alcohol…I tell myself, ‘at least smoking doesn’t make you destructive.’”
As if on cue, I heard glass break through the screen door, presumably in the kitchen. I winced.
“Mine’s not drinking.” Jonathan assured me, perching on the railing across from me and swinging his feet.
I quirked a half-smile at his earnest appearance: ratty Converse, ripped jeans, oversized flannel with a black t-shirt underneath.
“We gotta sneak into my room through the window. If my grandad saw you in the house, we’d both be dead.” I hopped down and picked the cigarette off the ground, brushing it off.
He gave me a funny look.
“Hey, it’s still good.” I gave him a wry smile. “Besides, cigarettes are bad for the environment.”
Anyone else create an entire Pinterest board for a made up OC? Anyone else have dozens of OC boards that they spend hours creating? Anyone else return to these boards and imagine themselves as these characters? Anyone else merge these characters into the entire story line right before they go to bed?
A small detail in Dead Poets Society that always stays within my brain is how when Neil goes up to his room, the camera pans to his bed that has his pajamas, a robe, and toiletries have all been laid out for him (presumably by his mom). Neil briefly touches his pajama shirt in a way that has always stuck with me. Because, here, in this moment, Neil is reminded once again that his future has already been laid out for him, that he can’t even choose his own pajamas to wear much less choose what he will do with his life. It’s only further confirmation to him of what he thinks he must do; that the only way to live life on his own terms is by ending it.
Furthermore, this scene contains parallels to that which depicts the night of the first dead poets meeting. In the latter, Neil enters his room to find the Five Centuries of Verse book left by Keating. This is followed by the poets all sneaking out into the night with the same score being used in both this scene and the scene of Neil preparing for his final act. Keating’s book represents freedom and hope and passion, a stark contrast to the pajama laid out for Neil in the later scene. However, one could argue that the crown of thorns, which Neil gravitates to after looking at his folded pajamas, represents a similar, yet different sort of freedom. When Neil places the crown on his head and takes his final bow, he effectively commits himself to the decision to find freedom in the dreams of the eternal sleep that is death.
What appears as a small detail, really holds so much more depth when looked at in a different way.
Nightwing is objectively terrifying on his own, but the fact that he has escrima sticks that can electrocute you? Like, escrima sticks Bruce probably rigged with the power of a small planet because he doesn’t know how to express parental affection? And Nightwing is just slinging those around with a big, dopey smile?
The sound of those lighting up must be dread-inducing.
It’s like Darth Vader or any light saber user when they light up the lightsaber in the dark. That cackle as it starts and all you see is the beam of light and bursting energy.
And everything is dark except for that beam of light and energy and it glows across the users face (aka Nightwing) and all you see is that but of a grin. And you just know it’s over.
