#I hope yall have a safe and fun holidays

[nun-draws]

merry shitscram 🎄

#xmas #christmas #merry shitscram #santa paws #cats #I hope yall have a safe and fun holidays #standard poodle #black cat #one eyed cat

[defodisturbed]

Mastermind - Recoms x Singer!Recom!reader

(A/N: heyy... hey.. im back :3. im sorry for leaving for SO LONG im dealing with a lot of personal stuff right now but im really trying to write more. i want to get faster at typing and i also needa feed my children. also most of this fic will be exposition and the events leading up to the climax like im not even joking its so long. hope yall enjoy this one. mwah) (and yes I based the songs on Taylor Swift and if you're gonna be in the replies being hateful, gtfo my page (kindly))

What if I told you I'm a mastermind?

And now you're mine.

I had always hid my true past from my teammates. Practically everyone. I only really had a journal, and even that was locked away under my rug under my bed. Nobody knew it was there, and nobody could access it without waking me up or making some kind of noise. It was a sacred book to me. I could talk to... something with it. I could express my feelings of wanting to go back to the way things were, but never wanting to leave Pandora. Never wanting to leave my friends. And never wanting to leave my lovers.

I'm a recombinant for the RDA. When I died in my human body, they had my DNA and were already growing my new body to be revived. I have my memories of my past life, and it was awesome. Until... my mom found out she was drafted for the mission on Pandora. I, being the best kid ever, took her place. My fans were scared for me, and tried to convince me not to. They'd heard it all, how dangerous Pandora was. Especially for a singer with no military experience or knowledge. But I accepted my fate. For my mother. For my family. I had siblings back home, and with me going on tour all the time, I wouldn't be able to take care of them if my mother was gone. So I accepted the fact that I was most likely, if not definitely, going to die on this mission.

And I did. My family recieved the news, but also learned about Project Phoenix. They were relieved to know that their kid was going to be revived, just maybe not the same.

-----

"Hey, ma. How're you?" Prager asked as I sat down at the table. It was lunch at the cafeteria. They pretty much just fed us protein-filled slop most of the time. Rarely, they would throw a cookie in there if it was a holiday on Earth.

"Oh, it's going alright, baby. Thanks. Hey, can I ask you a question?" I replied. Prager nodded and leaned in. "Do you think you could ask the Colonel if we could go out in the forest today and just... explore? He doesn't know this, but I actually have some science friends and they showed me some fruits and animals that we can harvest and safely eat. I tried some and Pandora food is good. Like, really good. I wanna surprise the team, and you know Colonel can't say no to you."

Prager agreed and once the Colonel sat at our table, he immediately started.

"Colonel, I was wondering if we could go out into the forest today and just have some fun. Explore, fuck around in some river or something?" Quaritch looked at Prager and gave that ONE sigh. (A/N: its giving "go get my purse") "Fine. But we ain't bringing a baby viperwolf home because Ja wants one." He glared at Ja. He was always the one to see a stray dog and say "please please pleaaaaase mom can we adopt it??" as a kid.

I silently thanked Prager for doing my bidding as always.

-----

We were out in the forest, going over the rules we've memorized by heart now. Once the Colonel finished up, I immediately took off. I was so excited to get some nice food that I didn't realize the cliff drop below me. I was suddenly falling, the wind rushing past my body and feeling almost painful as it hit my face and went away so fast, over and over again.

I dived head first into a lake. The drop wasn't that bad, I realized. Alicia was first on the scene, peeking over the dropoff with a worried look on her face as she hoped to God I wasn't dead. I waved my hand up at her and called out.

"Get down here, this is so fun!! Don't be afraid to get a running start either!" my voice echoed. "Are you okay??" she shouted back. "I'm amazing!!"

Alicia ran over to the others and told them to watch her. She embraced her inner child as she ran as fast as she could and leaped off the cliff. She felt the wind rush past her face as I had, and splashed in the water with me. The rest of my team ran over and looked. We were... fine? Lopez was next. He gladly jumped and plooshed in with us. Then Prager, Zhang, Walker, Warren, Mansk, Lyle, Fike, and finally... Quaritch. He took a chance and jumped.

We were playing and splashing each other with water as we finally relaxed for once. Of course, we had fear of predators. But we didn't care as much anymore. We were playing like kids and it felt so good.

-

After we dried off and got back to the forest, I took off again. This time, more careful. I found an abandoned basket in pretty good condition and took it with me to collect fruits and veggies. I collected some yovo fruit, some other stuff I didn't know the name of but still knew was safe, and finally it was time to get some meat. I was looking to make some nice Pandora burritos for everyone. I found a nice bow and some arrows, perhaps forgotten by a young hunter excited to show their family their haul.

While I was gathering food, one of my favorite songs got stuck in my head while I was thinking about my life back on Earth. I started humming... then singing the lyrics... then full belting the long notes. I didn't realize Lyle was near, close enough to hear but far enough to stay hidden. He'd never heard my songs because he was in the military before I even debuted. I'm sure he was confused who I was singing.

I got some hexapede meat, some meat from hard fruits, and I also took down a lone viperwolf. I put the stuff in the basket to bring home.

-

"What the Hell is all of this? What've you been doing this entire time? Why do you have a bow? Did you encounter a native?" Colonel asked. I said I found it and saw no booby traps so I took it. I explained that my friends at the lab wanted some samples so I got some for them. Obviously it was a lie, but I couldn't spoil the surprise.

He allowed me to take my findings and harvest home. I thanked him and was so excited to make him and our team a good meal for once.

-----

I got out my cutting board and my cooking knife and started chopping. I cooked some of that chicken-y stuff and some of that fruit. I thanked Mansk in my head for teaching me these things.

-

I radio'd everyone to come to my room. I said I had a surprise for them. "I swear to God, if we get there and you're on the bed naked again I will... actually not be mad." Lyle said back.

"This isn't that kind of surprise, Lyle. Just get over here!"

Once they all were in the room, I retrieved a tray with foil over it. The smell wafted into the room as I uncovered the gift. They were all so surprised and hypnotized by the burritos.

"For you guys! You deserve it. Take one, I insist!" I squealed. They all grabbed one and a paper towel and with the first bite, they relaxed their tense muscles and rolled their eyes back. They hadn't had a good meal like this in a good, long while.

"Hey, Y/N, what song were you singing in the forest? You were really loud... must've been one of your favorites or something. Is it on Spotify?" Lyle asked as he finished his first bite. My eyes widened. "You... heard that?"

"Yeah, I heard a little bit too. It was something about a new romantic or something like that." Zdinarsk added. "Yeah you were singing about something related to rings or something too." Mansk said. "I don't know, I could be wrong, but last time I checked, you weren't married." Lopez said.

"Um... can we forget all of that happened? Sorry, I was just getting carried away and I sang some of my own songs and-" I was soon cut off by the Colonel saying, "Wait- your songs?"

I soon shoved them out of my room, begging them to let it go and to not talk about it again. I closed the door behind me as I slid down the metal wall to the floor. I took some big, deep breaths and checked under my bed to check if my journal and hard drives were still there, even though I'd been with them the entire time. Phew! They're still there. I thought.

-----

The next day, at dinner in the cafeteria, I brought my bag with me and sat down with everybody acting like nothing was wrong. Conversation sparked when someone asked, "So what's everyone planning on doing tomorrow? Ardmore gave us the day off." I said I was planning on bingeing my favorite show wrapped in my blankets with my favorite foods. They all agreed and said they would be training, sleeping, exploring, hooking up, or something fun/relaxing.

I suddenly got a call from my friend on the phone. I knew it was something important, because my phone was blowing up with texts while she was waiting for me to answer. I hurriedly ran off to my room for privacy, forgetting my bag full of personal stuff. Including my hard drives. Zdog decided it couldn't hurt to see what I carry around all day, so she started digging. She found my sunglasses, hairbrush/comb, an unopened soda can, some loose candy, and... hard drives?

"Hey does anyone know why Y/N has hard drives in her bag?" Z asked. Nobody knew, so she decided to take them and pass them out for them to watch later. It for sure wasn't porn, Ardmore would've never let it through. It's gotta be some home videos or something.

-----

Zdog and the others piled onto the bed in her room and uploaded the drives onto her computer. They were numbered. They watched the first one and it was a black screen with the sound of a crowd cheering. It was around an hour long. They watched as a... stage appeared. A big one. It was a stadium full of people. A concert? Then appeared the person performing. It was... you. Some already made the connections, while others took a little bit. You were performing for around 70,000 people along with cameras so everyone could watch it live. they watched all of the hard drives all throughout the night, only falling asleep when they went through all of them.

-----

You were in your room, hanging up the call. turns out it was just some cute guy flirted with her at a restaurant. Only then did you realize that you left your bag in the cafeteria. You immediately went back for it, checking everything was there because people just love to snoop. You realized all of your hard drives were missing. You soon were banging on the Colonel's door, asking if he'd seen anybody take them or had anything in their hands. He wasn't there. You knocked on everyone's door and nobody answered. You went back to your room, wailing into your pillow. Those drives were the last thing you had of Earth. Of your entire life before the military. Soon enough, you cried yourself to sleep. In the morning, you slept in. It was your day off, after all. You heard a knock on the door. You recognized it as Z. You opened the door and there she was. She came in without an invite and immediately sat on your bed.

"Y/N. I am... just so sorry. When you left your bag in the cafeteria, I looked through it when I should've respected your privacy. I found hard drives and took all of them to my room and the rest of the team and I watched all of them. In order. All the way through. I am so sorry for disrespecting your right to privacy and watching the videos that were obviously private." She closes her eyes softly, looking down toward the floor with her hands twiddling in her lap. Too embarrassed and disappointed with herself to even look at me.

"Z, I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have been so secretive. Especially with the ones who love me most. The truth is, I was a very rich and famous singer on Earth. You probably know that by now. So does everyone else. But I'm trying to work through it and not be embarrassed to share my past."

"It's not your fault. I love you. We love you. You never have to hide anything from us, but if you don't want it to be shared, that's okay too. So... can we listen to some of your songs?" Z laughed. I said yes an radio'd everyone to come to my room. I had a surprise.

MWAH I love yall!!!! hope you guys enjoyed i've had this au stuck in my head since like last year :) 💋💋

@dyingofcookies ITS HERE BESTIE

#zdinarsk #avatar zdog #recom zdog #z dog #z dog x y/n #recom lyle wainfleet #recom squad #recom quaritch #recom mansk #recom oc #james cameron avatar #original character #avatar x reader

[nneon-leonn]

do you have cool exos to share? /nf

oh i actually have a lot of exomemories!!

for everyone who does not know what an exomemory is:

an exomemory is a memory that i remember from before i was a part of this system.

so how that works is essentially, when i split, i remembered all the events that are canonical to Rise Leo. As time passed, i began to remember other things that happened to me too.

if you want to be technical, i supposed these things never truly happened. but to me they're as real as any memory i could form today, and so, they are real for me!

i dont feel comfy sharing certian exos, but if anyone wants to ask specific questions, ill make some yes and nos here FEEL FREE TO ASK!!:

things/traits/holidays/habits/moments with my brothers, april, splinter or casey

things i remember being good at, liking, not liking etc

things like "did you ever try cooking?? did you like x song writer? whats your comfiest memory? did you and donnie ever game?" etc

feel free to ask stuff like "did any of your brothers or you use neopronouns?" "did you ever get overstimulated?" "was your donnie neurodivegent?" "did your raph have anxiety?" or other stuff abt our identities or struggles in a kind way!!

music recommendations yesyesyeys

anything that feels safe or like, yk kind and stuff!!

PLEASE DO NOT ASK:

about the kraang/prision dimension

what my "upsetting" or "frightening" memories are like

yeah thats it!! hope yall have fun!!

#leon answers 😎😎 #rottmnt leo #leonardo fictive #rise leo fictive #rottmnt fictive #rottmnt #save rottmnt #fictive #system

[princessofmerc]

clubbing live from the gay club in dublin! - the dublin gays love f1! i have had so much tequila i am absolutely going to puke on the bus home & not for the first time

idk bout everyone else but hope yall stay safe & are celebrate lances birthday like the sweet angel he is

ugh aside from the puking that sounds like good fun, i really wanna go clubbing in dublin rn

Yeah everyone stay safe and celebrate the international holiday the best way possible. Only love for one of Canada's F1 sweehearts (they may not be the fastest, but they're the judgiest softest boys to live)

[noble-6]

Wassup yall!

Luckily i remembered about the existence of this app. lol. Another life update entry i guess? Here we go ->

Life hasn't been that great. I mean yeah aside form studying, I've been having fun! Socialising, playing football, a bit of rugby. To be honest, this entry won't be a fun life update. Basically I'm here to rant. Can't do it on twitter cause all my friends are there. No one wants to hear my problem. You can say this place is a safe space for me (even if you read this you might be a stranger to me lol but feel free to read !).

Academic wise, I think i'm fumbling my degree. Yeah! I've started my degree last march. I'm in my first year first semester. At first I was excited ! Learning new things, coding, doing homeworks. No for real i did all the homeworks they gave me, for the first 3 weeks. But then it all sort of fell off like domino pieces because of Raya celebration. Don't get me wrong I love Raya, it's just that the holidays distrupted the college timetable A LOT. I mean replacement classess were all during the night or the weekends. Quizzes were held every week, assignments, crappy lecturers.

Tonight I just had my mid term test 2 for this one subject. It was at 8pm. While i was on my bed that evening(i slept after studying) my lecturer of said subject just released the score for quiz 4 of the subject. I actually tried my best for that quiz. I studied, rewatch the lecture recording, made notes. I had high hopes that i wouldn't get a score below 5(full marks was 10). You know what i did get? 1. 1 out of 10. After seeing the result, I honestly didn't know what to do. "Should i go and take the test that night? It's pretty much worthless if you think aboht it". I could say the feeling was worst than a heartbreak( i wouldn't know i've never experience it before). And then i started to think about this other subject at which my carry mark was also pretty low. Not only this subject has assignments to submit, it also has a final exam. So that's twice the headache i need to face for 1 subject.

I'm 24 this year and since this is my first year degree, I should be graduating when I turned 26. A lot of my friends has started working this year and here I am just starting my degree. Talk about being late. Now i have a mid-20ish-lif crisis(?). I'm starting to think I'm not smart. I mean all my life I thought I was average. Like yeah straight after highschool i played alot. But I've always thought if i really did focus on my studies, I'd be average. Now I'm not so sure. I think I'm 90% conviced that I'm below average. You know how theres smart students who scored straight A's, then there's above average students who scores 3.5 and above, and then the average students who scores 3.2 and above. I used to think I was average. Right now i think i'm just stupid. I studied, however i still didn't score. Like what does that tell you? You're not smart enough for this course.

So let's talk about my backup plan. As of right now, plan A is to finish this degree and get a job in the it industry. Plan B is work part time whilst studying this degree( to avoid me doing nothing at all). Plan C is to enroll in those google coirse where they give you a certificate upon completion(data analyst, web developer etc).

Plan C looks to me the more realistic approach given the situation I'm in. The only downside is I won't have a degree to my name. And that's bad for my future. It means it will be hard for me to climb the corporate ladder. I may be stuck in the same job position until i retire.

But let's be honest here, the only logical thing to do here is to finish the degree. Everyone else agree with this. Even you! Stranger who i don't know, reading my post somehow. I should just push through this upcoming 3 maybe 4 years of university life. It'll be over before i know it. I know i can do it. I just have to believe in myself again. Find that spark.

It all comes down to the basics of life you know? How my relationship with Allah is, with my family, friends. I need to do a lot of self reflect to become a better version me. Maybe not the best version, but just better than yesterday at least.

Wow! That's a lot of rant. Hahahaha. Yeah i just need to vent out you know. Maybe the next time I do my life udpate I'll be writing some good news! Maybe.... we'll see.

See ya!

#student life

[the-kipsabian]

i know this year has been absolutely batshit insane throughout so on one hand this doesnt surprise me but also looking at it now, ive lacked all sorts of holiday spirit this entire goddamn season and now that it doesnt matter anymore i feel absolutely superbly guilty about it and i think ppl think ive just been extremely shitty about everything just because im me hmm

#having to spend the past two days with family kinda sucked whatever might have been there out of me #not that there was much to begin with but. yeah #Happy holidays yall i hope you have/had a good one and stayef safe 💜 #(this feeling is also coming back to bite me in the form of anxiety #my whole body has been a hurting annoying mess today mmm #im having fun so thank fuck i dont need to leave my apartment for the next two days ugh)

[mapleshmaple]

meRR CRISMAS

#IM. REALLY NOT BEING FUN TONIGHT OR THIS WEEK ADN I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE #or this month really and hgjksgmgdsmdg-- but i!!! hope you guys are having a good holiday!! #and are hopefully spending it taking care of yourselves and/or spending it with loved ones and all that jazz and im! #proud of yall for making it through this year! it sucked some REAL HARD SHIT but we MADE IT and we're almost there? #and i cant really think of anything else to say btu i hope you guys're taking care of yourselves and being safe

[winter-darling]

what kind of sweets they would eat!!

Format:bullets(?) no blurbs for this one :c

Characters: zhongli, (kinda just a dark chocolate slander lel), albedo, xingqiu, and xiao!!

Notes: heyhey! It’s been too long since we last posted, i hope everyone is safe and healthy (and i hope y’all had a good holiday/new year!!) and here is some headcanons i thought of a couple days ago

Enjoy^^

Zhongli

-a guy who likes dark chocolate

-im sorry zhongli that shit it bitter how do u like it :c

ALBEDOO

-a caramel dude

-no like you could probably see him during a break and he’d have a jar of caramel next to his desk

-a chore to make sure klee doesn’t eat them all

-imagine literally running around the hq or mondstat just for klee to give back the caramel would be fun (and a good exercise tbh)

-yall coming back into the city nice and peaceful and abt to pass out from all that running LMAO)

Xingqiu

-bro this man probably has a shitload of sweets

-skittles, kit kats, twizzlers you name it

-probably eats kit kats the most and no doubt about it

-prob has a pack with him whenever he’s on and about with quests

-spoils u with that shit

Xiao

-pocky

-he gives off the vibe too 😭

-istg i’m just thinking about him eating it one by one and u just enter the room and he’s just staring you down

-like literally a death stare

-he slowly starts turning pink because you find it cute and he’s just dying inside because someone caught him during the time he wants to be alone

-get out and close the door pls he deserves his space

-make sure u leave more pocky on the table for him <33

#genshin fluff #adeptus xiao #genshin #xiao x reader #albedo x reader #xingqiu #xingqiu x reader #zhongli #genshin headcanons

[pilot-critical]

hey yall!! i just wanted to wish y’all a merry christmas (if you celebrate) and a happy new year!! take care of yourselves and stay safe this holiday season, and i hope yall have fun!

#mod cryptid

[pebblee-penguin]

Hai @ficsandgiggles !! I'm your squealing santa!!! I hope you enjoy your fic, and happy holidays!

And thank you to @ticklygiggles for organizing all this!! <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(A post-Unus Annus tickle fic!! Lee!Ethan and Ler!Mark, platonic.)

Ethan is nervous because he thinks that since Unus Annus is dead, no one will remember him or his channel. Mark seeks ways to comfort him

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a couple days after Christmas and Mark had invited a couple friends over, safely. Some of his “YouTuber friends” took the C0vid test, and all tested negative so they got together, still being as safe as possible. Along with Ethan, Mark had the entirety of “Teamiplier” and more. Everyone was thankfully safe beforehand, and afterwards.

The others had left for some personal business, but Ethan stayed for a bit longer, not entirely motivated to drive home by himself. Mark was used to having Ethan around his home. Thanks to Unus Annus, Ethan felt like a roommate to him every once in a while. And he didn’t mind! As much as he made fun of Ethan, the two were best friends.

Ethan helped Mark and Amy clean up after the dinner. Amy had noticed Ethan’s eyes began to look wet, and seemed like he wasn’t doing okay.

“Hey, uh–would it be okay if I sat down f-for a moment. I’m—feeling dizzy.”

The other two looked up from their work and nodded.

“Yeah sure, go sit down.” Mark motioned his head towards the couch.

“Thanks..” Ethan sat on Mark’s couch with his hands on his forehead. Mark immediately got back to cleaning up. Amy smacked his arm.

“He’s clearly not feeling well. You should go talk to him.” she whispered.

“He seems..fine. I thought he was just dizzy...”

“Something’s on his mind. Just–go!”

“I don’t want you to hafta clean up everything by yourself-” he whined.

“I’ll be fine, just go talk to him.” she smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek as she nudged him towards his friend. Mark smiled and headed towards Ethan.

Ethan heard footsteps coming toward him, so he quickly wiped his eyes and masked a slight smile for Mark.

“W-What’s up?” he stuttered, hoping his friend wouldn’t notice his current condition.

“What do you mean what’s up? Somethings not okay with you. Do you feel sick or something?” Mark sat down next to his friend. He was genuinely concerned. He didn’t want Ethan to feel bad.

“No, not sick.. Just…..tired. I guess..” He smiled, truly trying to be considerate, he shoved his emotions down inside himself to not burden anyone else. “I feel fine, Mark. Don’t worry about it.”

“You do not feel fine. I’m here to help! We can talk if you’d like. I just wanna help.” Mark’s eyes were locked on Ethan’s, making no error in showing him that he wanted to help. Ethan scoffed a bit and  looked away.

“I’m fine..just don't worry about it-”

Mark sighed. He hated seeing his friend feel down.

"Tell you what. Can I at least try to make you feel better, however you're feeling?" He raised his eyebrows, feeling determined to make sure Ethan could go back to being his best self.

"Yeah..sure." he chuckled slightly.

"Good. That's all I need." Mark ran past the kitchen for a moment, then ran back dog in hand.

"Heh, hi Beeks." He ruffled the top of Chica's fluffy face. Mark's eyes widened at Ethan's lack of emotion.

"Really?? Chica can't even help?" He put Chica's paws on Ethan's leg and pretended that Chica had a sad look on her face.

"I'm sorry, I'm just not feeling it!" Ethan threw his hands in the air for a moment. Mark stared at him, ideas flowing through his head for what could work even better than shoving a dog in his face.

"C'monnn! C'moooooon~" Mark cood while poking all around Ethan's torso. "I just wanna heeeeelp~"

Ethan swatted Mark's hands away. Mark noticed the slight grin forming on Ethan's face. He was attempting to hold down the bubbly giggles in his chest.

"Ohohoh... I got an idea to make yous feel bettah~" Mark used his 'Yancy' voice, indicating a playful tone towards Ethan.

"Mahark, don't you dare. It's not the time for this-" Instead of getting up from the couch, he began to shrink himself in to the couch's corner. With the realization that this idea wouldn't be the greatest, he continued executing it.

"Ohhhohoh I think it IS the time for this~" Mark playfully wiggled his fingers towards the younger man's stomach.

"Nohohoho!!" Ethan sunk further into the couch. As far as he could until Mark's fingers barely made contact with his quivering stomach.

"Yes!" Mark pounced and dug his clawed hands into Ethan's sides. Ethan twitched and squirmed as if he just got electrocuted, laughing hysterically.

"NAHAHA YOHOHOU AHAHAHASS-" He writhed and locked his arms in a position that almost made him look like he was operating a jetpack.

"Ass? I'm trying to help you out! Trying to make you feel better! I don't even know the reason for the horrid feeling has overcome you!" Mark's clawed hands scribbled over to the side of Ethan's ribs, Making Ethan's loud giggles go up an octave.

"NAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA MAHAHAHARK QUIHIHIHIHIT IHIHIHIT-" Ethan jolted again to the side.

"Nnnope! I'm gonnnnnnnnaaaaa......tickle your tummy! Tickle tickle!! Tickle tickle tickle!!" Mark's teasy voice was one Ethan had never heard before, but was enjoying thoroughly.

Through Ethan's incoherent giggles, Mark could barely understand all of what he was saying except for a mere "whyhyhyhy".

Ethan's major giggle fest was urging Ethan to fall off the couch. Before Ethan could 'escape' in any way, Mark thrusted his leg between Ethans' to keep him in place.

"Nuh-uh-uh~" Mark clicked. "I will sit here and tickle the information out of you if I have tooo~"

Ethan had no time to retaliate when he was at Mark's mercy once again. The tickling fingers moved and began vibrating at the crevice of Ethan's neck.

"FAAAHAHAHAHAHAHACK NAAHAHAHAHAHAHA" Ethan screamed as his hands moved to try to push away Mark from his sensitive neck. The two could even hear Amy giggling at them from the kitchen.

"AAAHAHAHAHAHAMY AHAHARE YOHOHOU ENJOHOYIHING THIHIHIS-" Ethan squealed to her from across the room.

"Am I doin' good Amy?" Mark began attacking Ethan's exposed underarms, from blocking his neck.

"You're doing great hunny!" Amy giggled again from the kitchen.

"YOOHOHOU TWOHOHOHO SHUHUT UHUHUP" Ethan's laughter grew twice as loud, and thrice as joyous. Mark chuckled at his friend who was clearly smiling. Not just from the tickling sensations, but he seemed to be feeling a lot better than before.

After what seemed like hours, but was really about 20 minutes in all, Mark slowed his tickles down to slight scratches on Ethan's back. Ethan, who was laying face down on the couch now, was giggling, almost sleepily.

"You feelin' any better? You ready to talk?" Mark moved so Ethan could sit up and breathe if he needed to.

"Yeah, I feel better." He grinned. "But..do we hafta talk about shit?"

“Come on, I really want to help whatever you’re going through. Please?” Mark nodded his head, showing that he was being serious.

Ethan saw Mark’s intent, and unraveled his feelings.

“I’m just having a bit of a harder time with Unus Annus. I’m fine with it being over, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad..but it’s making me feel like I’ve been forgotten already.” He looked down, avoiding eye contact. What he was feeling seemed so silly, so inconvenient. He didn’t know why this made him anxious, it normally never did. Mark’s eyes widened.

“Man are you serious? You’ve got literally nothing to worry about! Your fans absolutely adore you! You've got touring plans! You just hit 2 mil!! That’s a win in my book!” He pat Ethan’s shoulders.

“I know, I know! And I’m nothing but thankful! But.. I just feel like ever since Unus Annus is gone....people are forgetting about me already. Views have gone down and likes have gone down and ‘hate comments’ have gone up and all sorts of shit like that! And I know it’s petty to just think about views, but to be honest it kind of hurts my feelings. Which is really stupid.”

Mark understood Ethan’s feelings. It’s hard to feel unfulfilled. It’s hard to feel forgotten. He’s had times like that too.

“Hey, no one is forgetting about you. If anything Unus Annus probably boosted your channel!” he chuckled unharshly. Ethan sighed.

“Look, all I’m saying is that I really think you’ve got nothing to be worried about. Honestly, I see you working harder than ever now that Unus Annus is dead. And you’re making so much progress. You’re progressing faster than I hoped to have when I was where you are. You’re doing so much, and your fans love you. You’re amazing, man.” Ethan looked up and smiled at Mark.

“Damn, that really means a lot to me. Thanks Mark.” he smiled widely.

"No problem, you ticklish dork." He ruffled Ethan's hair like a child. "And thanks to you for being ticklish enough for me to get you to talk." He winked and Ethan chuckled.

“No problem, asshole.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wow! This is the first full fic I've written and posted to tumblr! I hope yall like it!! :D xx

#tickle fic #unus annus #unus annus tickle fic #markiplier #crankgameplays #lee!ethan #ler!mark #amyplier #squealingsanta2k20 #squealing santa 2k20 #happy holidays #jazzy's fics

[faeriesuns]

Won't be on much for a while, we have moved and now we have to Unpack everything. Also do not have wifi yet and I don't get good signal out here. Will keep yall in formed.

I'll try to atleast check once a day incase any of yall send me a message or an ask

I hope you are having a good holiday season! Be safe and have some fun !!!

#hearth talks

[kenmashoe]

❝christmas cookies❞ kuroo tetsuro.

day one of ❝ 8 days of holidays with haikyuu❞

drabble pairing: kuroo tetsuro x reader

summary: ❝ Your first Christmas break with your college frat boy boyfriend. He’s invited you to spend Christmas with him and his family in his hometown, but your plans got a little delayed and you’re arriving a day late so he’s baking cookies for you to go “home” to.❞

word count: 672

genre: fluff

a/n: guess who’s back after a LONG hiatus. yes me, me. i hope yall haven’t forgotten about me because i have not forgotten about you. MERRY EARLY CHRISTMAS with this kuroo fluff thing that i wrote hazily just because i wanted to come back and wish you all. i’ll try to update daily for 8 days in a row ALTHOUGH THAT WILL BE A HASSLE knowing how lazy i am. anyway i love you all and i hope you’ve been staying safe, mwah! <3

“Kuroo.” his name rolled out of your mouth a little more aggressively than what you intended it too. Tapping on your phone’s screen gently, your nails made a weirdly entertaining sound and your pout slowly faded away. “I missed you.”

From behind the screen, you could see the way his mouth turned upwards in a half assed goofy smirk, while plopping the cooking ingredients on the counter. “I was gone for THREE minutes.” Three slender fingers were held up. “And I was still IN the kitchen.”

“Not IN my range of view though.” You had to stare at a random part of his kitchen, from where his phone was positioned; all the while he gathered everything he needed to bake cookies. A giggle escaped your lips at the thought. He was baking cookies, Christmas cookies, while video calling you, in your dorm room, a whole city away.

Rolling his sleeves up in a swift motion, he looked at you who were now chuckling, confused. “You seem really into it, Kuroo. Maybe you’ve chosen the wrong thing to major in.”

His eyes shot up from the bowl he had poured the flour in, to look at you dead in the eye. “Maybe if someone didn’t cancel on me last minute, I’d be really into SOMEONE right now.” Sinking back further into your bed, the chuckles you were trying to compress, became a full on laughter. “Ew gross!!”

“Yeah, me baking cookies alone is gross. I wonder whose fault that is” He was looking down and his fairly long black hair had fallen over his forehead but the amusement was visible in his dorky cocky pout. You couldn’t really take him seriously when he was being like that. A big smile was plastered on your face, as your eyes followed his every moment. “Cmonnn baby, it’s just one day.”

A throaty sigh left him as if he was trying to compose himself to keep his act up. “Love to see my girlfriend/boyfriend thinking a day spent with me is just ONE random day.” The emphasis he put on “one” seemed to make even him break his resume ‘cause you watched his chest rise and fall in silent laughter.

“How about you stop being a dork and tell me why isn’t your mom baking them, but you?” He looked up at you again. “How about you stop being an ungrateful gremlin and appreciate the fact that I’m doing this for my partner?” Both of you, just looked at each other’s eyes, no one blinking, seemingly having turned it into a competition, before you broke into a smile again. “Cutie.”

A heartfelt laugh he had been keeping in for so long finally made its way out, followed by a head shake. “I’ll see how witty that mouth is tomorrow, when you’re not kilometres away.” Something was clearly wrong with you, because your reply to his sexual remark was another laugh.

“You know what Y/N, pack it up and go back home. My parents were excited to meet you, but I don’t think they’ll be happy seeing their son with a mentally deranged lover.” You bit your lip, trying to remain serious, but it was impossible. He ignored you and kept working in silence for a few minutes, stealing glances at your dumb founded silly self and smiling to himself. That’s why he loved you is what he thought. You made everything a little bit more fun; you made everything a little bit more cheerful.

After calming down and getting over an awe struck moment of staring at your boyfriend, you finally spoke seriously, feeling gushy all of a sudden. “So, babe, are your parents really excited to see me?” He nodded. “I am too.” A faint blush creeped up your cheeks and you felt them burn, but you couldn’t let the chance slip away. “Yeah, too bad I’m packing it up and going home though.”

The last glimpse you got of him was that with a fed up smile. “I love you” he mouthed before hanging up.

♡ requests are closed!

#kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsuro fluff #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabble #haikyuu christmas

[georgemackayhey]

Like Real People Do

“Hii can you do an imagine, "Your first time with George" maybe as an insecure/uneasy reader"

"Can you pleeaaassse write more nsfw stuff? More Than A Night Out gave me my rights"

Alright yall, heed the 18+ warning! 

Seriously, I really don't want to block anyone (I love yall!) On that note... I wouldn't say this theme is my strong suit, nor have I been in a good headspace, but boy did I try my best ♡ 

w/c: 3k

───※ ·❆· ※───

You didn't date.

You called off meeting up with strangers in bars and listening to them tell half-assed life stories, embellishing in hopes they'd get to have their way with you in the same evening.

You were happy to mingle among friends on weekends and at parties, but going home alone felt safe. Keeping to yourself was the best bet, having learned your lesson by now. You recalled more unpleasant domestic experiences than ones that left you daydreaming of more. So you simply stayed single.

Some of your friends didn't regard your limits, tricking you into double dates and the like. Other friends understood but still gushed over their brothers and cousins in hopes you'd be intrigued by their qualities and demand to be introduced with wedding rings on standby.

And then there were the friends who never asked or bothered you about it at all. George was one of those friends.

He was your ride to your friend groups monthly movie theater meet up's. And he always let you take home his leftovers after dinners he wasted chatting with your mutual friends about books and culture.

In turn, you let George borrow your favorite albums. And you'd always saved him a seat in the back of bars you had to show up to for friend's birthday parties, while they threw themselves between strangers on the dance floor. Times like then were when you got to know George best.

And during the last month of summer, George invited everyone to take over a beach house big enough for your ever-expanding group and more. Apparently some of his distant family owned the property but were hardly ever in the area to enjoy it. So they gave George a spare key, and insisted he treated the place like his own.

And thankfully, then, between your friends racing to the shore in the witching hour, and when everyone split up into pairs for the evening, George kept you company. You made a habit of joining each other on the rickety front porch, sharing a drink, and usually sitting in silence.

But there were nights you talked about the constellations you could see above the roaring ocean. And where you'd like to live if you had an unlimited budget. Where you'd come from and what you wanted, and didn't.

You went home to the most dreary September of all time. You used to adore the solitude of your dull apartment. But you missed waking up to your friend's laughter, having someone, if not many more, to enjoy market runs and mealtimes with. You had never felt more lonely. And you couldn't stop thinking of George.

When he came round to give you a lift to the movie theater, your usual ride together was quiet. The silence between you was heavy- you wondered if he noticed. You sat together in a boring film. Or maybe it was the best of all time. You could only focus on how close George was to you, how you'd recognized the feeling of his company. You wondered how to ask him to come around more often, without sounding pathetically desperate.

Luckily birthday parties and Halloween bashes kept coming. And you kept finding quiet places to listen to George tell his stories. And he would always share his drink, and ask about your family, and how you were doing.

One night when he invited everyone around to his flat and only a couple of your friends managed to show up, they headed out soon after dinner. You were left alone in George's kitchen to help clean up and wonder what to do with the rest of the early blue evening.

And even though your heart beat in your throat, and everything you thought to say sounded stupid in your head, you determined it was time.

During a much too easy card game at Georges table, when a conversation about some of the horrifically silly things George had witnessed you manage in the past; you decided to stop testing the waters, and address them.

"I can't believe you put up with me." You grinned, peering past your hand of playing cards to the guy sat beside you.

"I just like you," George answered simply, his ocean eye flickering up to meet yours for a beat.

"Really?" You asked, pushing for him to say more, hoping he got the hint.

"I really do." George grinned shyly, turning his attention back to his hand of playing cards he kept accidentally giving you glimpses of. You watched George bite his lip and fiddle with the cards as if he were arranging them just so.

"What if... I like you too?" It wasn't just his tousled yellow hair, or the way his smile was warmer than a ray of sun. It was his lame jokes. His soft answers. Him.

"You don't date." George rose a brow, keeping his eyes turned away. He wasn't bittered or mocking. He was accepting. George laid down his cards, to a game you weren't focused on at all anymore.

"I like you, George." You admit in a hush. His stunning eyes met yours. He seemed to consider your words, and much more. He started to speak a couple of times as he searched your features.

"So maybe... we can start slow..." You offered. You had never planned on opening up to anyone. But George had stuck around. He was always there when you needed him even when you hadn't known what you needed. He didn't make fun of your unreasonable anxieties and he always laughed at your jokes. Even the ones you knew weren't funny. You hadn't expected to ever let anyone close enough, you hadn't trusted anyone could feel like home. But before you could even decide, it was as if your heart grew a mind of its own and lept right out of your chest into George's orbit. So since he already seemed to have you, it seemed like common courtesy to at least let the guy know.

With a shy smile, George bore his brilliant blue eyes into yours, searching them for assurance. As you looked to each other you felt his knuckles brush yours, the back of his hand nervously creeping closer. George took one of his fingers and looped it around one of yours while he agreed that it would be silly for two people who felt the same way about each other to do nothing about it. So you did.

George started coming around when there wasn't any reason to, sometimes bringing take away, or asking you on walks around the park. Sometimes you'd sit in silence next to your favorite old tree and enjoy that last purple swirls in the dusk sky. And sometimes you'd watch films, one after another, pausing only to argue over the ending or make silly predictions.  And times like then, you curled into George's side like a sleepy cat. He'd carded his warm hand through your hair as you drifted off, content.

You got snowed into his flat when you showed up a few hours before the first-holiday party of the season; to help bake treats for everyone. As ice froze everyone's doors shut, the party was swiftly canceled but your plans for the evening weren't ruined at all.

George set up his den with extra blankets, finding the holiday channel on the telly, standing to refill your cup of tea during commercials so you didn't have to move. He kissed you that night, soft and kind, and slow. You both fell asleep on the floor among the mess of all the blankets he owned, while snow piled up and over the window sills.

You spent New Year's Eve much like the past couple before, watching your wild group of pals take shots and dance to bad music. George listened to you talk as you waited for the new year to set in, and he kept one of his fingers looped around yours almost all night long.

When the snow started to melt and your group of friends started squeezing into their cut off jeans from the year before, George invited everyone back to the beach house. He set a date and sent out invitations in the mail like it was the damn 1800's. Most every rsvp got sent back with the box labeled "going "grossly marked up.

George offered to give you a lift there, a day early so he could stock up on emergency snacks and soaps and even more DVDs in case the rains came and ruined your fun on the shore. You agreed happily and walked through the isles of a department store together, picking out essentials based on how well you knew your group of friends who might need them.

And while you laughed and helped and listened, you grew increasingly more fucking terrified. Because you'd never spent so long enjoying one person's company. You were enamored with George yes, but what's more, was- you trusted him. You never thought it was possible. But you really did. And the thing that you were most scared of, was having to accept the possibility that he didn't feel the same way.

Things like this had gone wrong before. Granted, things had never gone remotely close to this right before, either. But you still prepared yourself to hurt. It was always a possibility you were too afraid of risking. But George was different. You somehow knew even if he hurt you, it would be the loveliest heartbreak you'd ever feel.

You got to the beach house, completely abandoned since the last time you left it. You found your someone's favorite lost t-shirt in one of the bathrooms, and a lot of dust on the shelves. After clearing away some of the cobwebs and unloading all your groceries to their respective places, night began to fall.

The sky was still blue enough to admire the roaring ocean from the front porch. George brought out a couple of drinks, and you sat there together like you had the summer before. Only now, it was a little too chilly. So you said goodnight to the scenery, making a note of spending extra time to soak up its beauty the next morning.

And on your way inside you joked about how someone was bound to forget to pack something they needed, or bring one of the things George asked them to. You were wrapped up in laughter as you turned out the lights and drifted to settle in.

When you headed to the bedroom where all your bags had been discarded, you scurried off to the ensuite shower. This was the room George stayed in last year, a space you'd never stepped foot near until tonight.

And when you stepped back out into the bedroom, you realized you didn't want to leave.

George was busy turning down his bed covers to the dim night light in a far off corner. A dark shine beamed in from the moon in the window next to the quilted bed, and George never looked more beautiful- perfectly tousled hair. Kind, sleepy eyes. Yeah, you'd let him break your heart.

"What?" He laughed in a warm low rumble, catching you staring. You bit back a chuckle and crossed the room to meet him.

"I just love you. That's all." You informed, circling one of your fingers around his, gazing up to the guy.

You'd said so in passing, during game nights he helped you win and in the middle of lunches he'd managed to talk you into ordering. But nothing prompted you now, and the statement held an all-new kind of weight.

"I love you, too," George whispered in turn, raising his other hand to your cheek.

"Can I stay in here? With you?" You asked, keeping your gaze set and your voice low even though no one else was around to hear.

"I'd like that." George assured with a tiny grin.

You clamored into the big bed, pointing out the window to the moon over the ocean. George eased in behind you, gazing all the same. You tangled your hands together staring out the window for a while, giggling over nothing every now and again. He was so impossibly close, so warm next to you.

"George." You turned your head slowly, catching his attention. He looked at you, silently wondering what you wanted. But somehow you didn't need to say.

Somehow he knew to lean in for a kiss, soft and sweet. When he pulled away, you could tell he didn't want to. When George looked at you, you could tell he longed for more, but still kept his distance, kept your meek nature in mind. He was too kind, too considerate. There weren't words to convey how you felt. You knew what came next. You wanted George.

You reached for his hand, and brought it to rest in the dip of your waist. He kept his eyes steady on yours while his thumb brushed over the skin exposed where your shirt had ridden up.

"Kiss me again?" You asked, barely a whisper. George leaned in, almost before you could finish asking, to press his mouth against yours. You grabbed a fist full of his shirt to pull him closer while George let his hand travel to the small of your back, holding you perfectly against him. He kissed you slow and deep like he was trying to put you in a trance.

Whether he meant to or not, you wondered if it worked, as you melted into the mattress all while lazily pulling him almost all the way on top of you. This was as far as you'd ever taken things with George, yanking at each other's clothes while you kissed until you couldn't breathe.

So when you gently pushed George away, he started to retract back to his side of the bed without putting up a fight. But you sat up too. And George watched on in wonder when you sheepishly slid into his lap, your knees on either side of his hips.

Without a word you pulled George's shirt up, silently suggesting he take it all the way off.

When he did, you didn't relish the sight long before you dove in for another kiss. His skin was burning, and you could feel his heart hammer when your hand traveled across his chest. You moved your kisses to his neck, reveling in the feeling of being so close. George kept one arm gently wrapped around you as your teeth grazed a spot under his ear that made his breath catch in his throat.

"Y/n. Are you- Do you..." George began, keeping his hold around you all the same. You pulled away, gazing to George through your lashes while your heart teetered on the edge.

"Do you not want to?" You worried. You were so finally sure. But George might not have been. So you prepared to be let down gently, knowing George would at least be kind enough to break your fall.

"Yes." George let out a breathy laugh, reaching to hold your head in both of his hands. "Of course I want to do this. But I know how you feel and if you don't-"

"I trust you, George." You nodded, searching his eyes while a smile bloomed across your face. You'd been so nervous for a moment like this to come true. But everything was different with George. He made you laugh when you never expected to, he made you think about things in ways you'd never even considered. He was so the one for you.

You wrapped your fingers around George's wrist, bringing his plus to your lips. You watched George's eyes flutter as you planted a small kiss there, before moving his hand to your hip.

"Just go slow." You nodded, watching George's eyes open to meet yours. You leaned your forehead against his while he nodded, making you laugh.

He decorated your cheeks with gentle pecks and moved his hands under the hem of your shirt as you leaned in to capture his lips with yours again. And because you spent a while that way, you weren't nervous to act upon taking things even further.

Kisses turned seering as George wrangled your shirt off. His lips traveled down your throat as you settled deeper into his lap, shocked by how easy this was. Your kisses grew longer and sloppier while your layers started to collect on the floor.

You impressed yourself by how effortlessly you reach to pull away George's trousers. He managed to kick them aside while you kept your lips on his, laughing between breaks for air.

But when he pulled you back into his lap, when his fingers danced around your waistband, you were suddenly swept up in the realization that this was happening. Like, really happening.

"Uh, wait a second." You halted in a shaky breath. You didn't want to stop, not completely. You just needed to assess things for a moment, to catch up with this new reality in which this wasn't upsetting or dull or any of the things being with anyone else ever was.

George stalled in an instant, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. "Do you want to stop?" He asked gently, hands firmly pressed against your back, eyes glowing right into yours.

"No way." You breathed with a grin. You knew it would be better than before, with George. Probably the best. It already was, you realized with a smile, encouraging George one more time. Your hips rolled against his, causing his heavenly sigh in your ear.

He wriggled you out of the last of your clothes and made you feel like a wonder of the world, tracing the shapes you were made up of with his pretty fingers. By the time you were laid against the pillows admiring the halo of light ringing around George's waves of hair, he asked again if you were sure about this.

"So long as you are." You swallowed.

"Of course I'm sure. God, I'm so sure." George pressed a kiss to your face between sentences, making you giggle and swoon all at once. "I've never been so sure of anyone but you. I'd like to keep it that way." George rambled, peppering a few more loving, gentle kisses to your cheek. "But if you want to stop for any reason, we'll stop. Just say so."

"Thank you, George." You grinned after a beat, knowing he really meant it. Recognizing how deeply he really cared for you, watching him search your face for validation. Watching George watch you, contentedly, like he had dozens of times before now. He gave you a slowly sleepy blink, ocean blue eyes shining brighter when they opened again.

George leaned closer, hovering over you with his eyes locked on yours. He molded a kiss to your lips before anything. Then to your cheek. Then his eyes fluttered to meet yours once more.

"Slow." You rose a brow, whispering a reminder, but it was really more of a green light for him to finally take the next step.

George repeated you, in a barely audible hush, soaking up the look in your eye. A lithe grin painted his lips while you held your breath. You accounted for the feeling of his fingers loosely tangled in your hair, his thumb brushing across your temple every now and again. You'd nearly forgotten everything else while swimming in those warm icy eyes of his. He didn't break you from your reverie when he gave a small nod. The gesture only settled you further, as you responded by lacing your fingers around the back of his neck.

George kept his hand nearly cradling your head as he pushed closer. His thumb brushing across the pulse of your temple was keeping you grounded while your heart threatened to soar into the clouds. While your breathing grew deeper, while he moved as close as he could until he couldn't anymore.

"You okay?" George asked, his voice beautifully strained.

"Uh-huh." You gazed at him through hooded eyes as you adjusted everything, including the realization that this was happening. He wasn't even moving yet. And he waited until you had to ask him to, with his head buried in your neck. After a couple of breaths, you looked to George, giving him a nod. He pressed his forehead against yours and moved his hips.

A tame, steady pace set in as you stopped George from asking if you were alright, again, assuring him you were really, very good. Your raspy encouragement must have given George the sound authority to go about awing you further.

He kept one hand against your temple while his other trailed down your side, fingers deliberately pressed into your skin as he brought your leg around his hip. George's strong-arm hooked under your back to keep you secured against him. He picked up the pace as your hands tangled in his hair, around his shoulder, holding on to the moment. To George.

You wondered why you waited so long to feel this damned good, while George spoke low in your ear. He listed off all the things he liked best about you, and why. He planted clumsy kisses to your lips. He made you see stars brighter than all the far off constellations you were used to pointing out from the shoreline. You seemed to float among them, above everything. Time slowed down while your heart sped up, somehow, and while everything around you faded into an impossibly dull background, you still had George.

His weight was warm and secure. His breath was hot on your neck. His voice was saccharine in your ear.  When he eventually eased next to your side in a heap, the cool of the night was still shielded by him.

You snuggled to his chest, like an old sleepy cat while he kept repeating how he loved you. You said so too, as many times as you could manage before drifting to sleep all tangled together.

The next morning came slow. You made coffee and watched the sunrise above the waves from the porch. When your friends started showing up in pairs and trios and more, they all seemed sort of relieved to find you and George attached at the hip. They greeted you as if you'd always been a packaged deal, and they didn't bat an eye when you stuck together to roam the vast empty beach. There was no fighting over choosing partners when someone broke out a new board game that night. When your friends were all gathered around the dinner table, and all the extra snacks and gifts and surprises for the summer were stored away, you still had George.

Maybe things wouldn't always be so easy. There would likely be fights and upsets and questions that didn't always have answers. But George was worth it. You had him now, you loved him and he couldn't stop reminding how dearly he loved you. Nothing had ever hurt so good before. You decided to keep it that way.

───※ ·❆· ※───

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic

[mined-and-crafted]

I know Im late but Happy Holidays to everyone! Hope yalls stay safe and have fun!!! 💝💝

#MnC woopsies #iz christmas #Happy Holigays

[femmeharringrove]

merry christmas yall have the first chapter of a fic i completely forgot about

It’s Christmas eve, and Steve hasn’t slept in at least three days but that’s fine.

It’s not, not really, but those are the two words the boy has learned to live off of: that’s fine. It’s the motto of complacency, his father said once, after hearing it on the radio. Steve was just twelve at the time and already knew then that his father’s opinion wasn’t worth shit. Steve isn’t complacent, thank you very much. If he has to label himself, he thinks chill is a better word. He’s a chill guy, he’s the most chill person he knows, and everyone loves a chill person so it’s fine.

It’s stupidly early and he’s on the stupid green sofa in his stupid big house and he feels like shit, which is a surprise to exactly no one. The living room is a mess – he should clean it, he thinks vaguely, but he doesn’t plan on making a move anytime soon. If his parents were coming home he’d do it; can’t have them knowing their son’s become a wallowing slouch as of late. But they’re not coming.

His mother called yesterday, trilling over the line in her unnaturally pitched voice about how Prague was just beautiful this time of year and she wished he could be there to see but someone had to hold the fort down and speaking of they just won’t be able to make it back for the holidays but how would he feel about driving to Cincinnati on New Year’s Eve to join them at one of his father’s business socials that would be fun right? And Steve just listened because what else could he do?

He hadn’t been expecting them, anyway. The family hadn’t celebrated Christmas together in four years.

And in those four years he’d had options. Tommy’s family was happy to have him over, he spent many a holiday with the Hagans and then he’d spent that one truly merry Christmas with the Wheelers, and it was fine, but now he’s got none of that. This year, it’s him and the big empty house and he sort of hates it but it’s fine, thanks.

Steve watches the shadows on the wall shift with the rising sun and feels some vague sense of relief; it’s easier to breathe when the sun is out. That’s what’s been bothering him, really. When he does sleep, his dreams are plagued with darkness and cold and danger, and when he wakes up it’s still darkness and he feels like he can’t breathe. Those nightmares have gotten worse, infinitely worse over time. It’s easier to avoid sleep altogether sometimes. And he has no obligations this holiday season, no parties to appear at or houses to crash, so he can afford the heavy circles under his eyes this year.

It’s fine. It has to be fine, so it is. Even if it isn’t really.

Hawkins got snow last night. Steve drags himself up from his seat and meanders to the back door, eyes gazing out over the endless white carpeting the ground outside. He used to love snow. Now anything cold makes him uncomfortable. He hates the winter, makes him think of the dark Upside Down.

Or that damned Soviet Union and their officers and their cold, cruel faces watching on as he tells them he’s not a spy.

Had that really been this year? It feels like a lifetime ago. It feels like just yesterday. He tears his eyes away from the snow and pads into the kitchen in search of something warm. Coffee? Definitely coffee. He waits in the kitchen while the dark beverage brews and since he’s here he figures he may as well get some food into his body. Steve can cook – it becomes a necessity when you spend most of your childhood devoid of parents – but he doesn’t really want to cook. Takes too much energy, and he’s not willing to put said energy into that. So he goes with toast, because you can never go wrong with toast, right? He even slathers the bread with copious amounts of butter. It’s not the most fulfilling breakfast, but he likes it well enough.

The coffee finishes brewing and Steve spills a good bit of his father’s whiskey into it before dunking three spoonfuls of sugar in and retreating back to the couch. He grabs the remote on his way over and drops himself gracelessly on the cushions before pressing a button. The screen flickers to life and he chugs half of the hot beverage, flips through channel after channel before settling on some feel-good holiday movie. He hates these movies, he really does, but if he’s lucky it might be enough to lull him to sleep for an hour or so.

Steve used to love Christmas movies. He watched families on television gather together and enjoy one another’s company, children waiting for the magic of Santa Claus while parents shared tender moments under mistletoe. It was everything a younger Steve had desired in a holiday. Even when he had his parents home for Christmas, things had been different. Their home was filled with strange adults, co-workers of his father’s and social acquaintances of his mother’s. Santa Claus never came to visit him – his parents would simply give him a gift or two gathered from their trips abroad. He used to enjoy it, but as he got older the presents got less and less interesting, less personal. He went from wishing for those perfect movie-esque holidays to resenting them. That being said, they have their appeal.

Even now Steve can’t help but get a sense of warm comfort and joy radiating from the film, a warm sensation wrapping around his chest. It’s a strange comfort to him, in spite of his bitterness. There’s something inherently warm about holidays, and yet Steve finds himself feeling cold. He wonders idly what his parents are doing now, if they’ll remember to call tomorrow. The boy sits and sips on coffee and wonders and he’s right about the movie because he ends up dozing for a little bit. He dreams of families and caroling and trees and the whole scene takes on a peaceful, golden haze. Something almost physical wounds around his body like a cat rubbing along his frame in a form of greeting. It’s the nicest dream he’s had in a long time.

Which is why, when the doorbell startles him out of his dreams, Steve feels like he’s capable of murder.

The boy is so confused at first he doesn’t realize it’s his doorbell. When the incessant ringing gets accompanied by an even more incessant knocking on the door, Steve groans. The warmth seeps away and he heaves himself up from the couch. The mug is drained of its remaining lukewarm contents before he sets it on the coffee table. Footsteps land heavy as he stomps his way to the door, yanking it open and preparing to bite off the head of whoever dared to disturb him so early on Christmas Eve of all days.

His face morphs from a snarl to a look of surprise. Dustin grins up at him, oblivious to Steve’s previous anger.

And he’s not alone, either. El is there, too, brown eyes sparkling at him, arm tucked in Max’s as they flash him identical grins. On Dustin’s other side, Will’s smile is something more timid than the rest of his co-conspirators. Steve’s shoulders drop.

“What are you dipshits doing out here?” he snaps playfully. “Not you, of course, Will.” Will’s smile widens while Dustin and the girls make faces of protests.

“Hey!” Dustin squawks indignantly. “I’m your favorite, that’s not allowed to change!”

“Oh yeah?” Steve’s hands settled on his hips. “Who rang the doorbell?” El’s hand shoots up. “Uh-huh. And who started knocking?” The younger boy shares a guilty look with Max, who kicks guiltily at the ground. Will blinks at him in innocent confusion. Steve smirks. “So, every single one of you played a role in waking me up from my nap with the exception of Will. Little Byers is now my favorite.” Max groans and Dustin makes another scandalized sound, while Will and El both try to hide their giggles. Steve feels a mix of fondness and frustration as he watches them; that seems to be his default emotion around these damned kids. Shaking his head, Steve opens the door wider. “Okay, okay, now why don’t you all come in so I can figure out what I owe this visit to?”

“No need,” El responds, her laughter dying down. That amused happiness never leaves her face, however. “Will you have dinner with us?”

“Mom and Hopper want you to join us,” Will adds. “You can help out with the tree and everything.”

“And baking and cooking and shit, because Hop and Mrs. Byers aren’t the best in the kitchen,” Max finishes, and even though Will makes a small attempt to protest he and El share a knowing shudder. Dustin bounces on his feet slightly as he looks up at the older boy.

“Plus, if you say yes I can ride back to the house with you!” He grins broadly. “Whaddya say?” Steve blinks.

What does he say?

It’s a nice idea, sure. He loves these kids, feels safe with the two adults in question, and spending the day with them promises to be interesting at the very least. But if they’re all there, he has little doubt about Nancy and Jonathan being there too, and he’s really not mad about it anymore but there’s a little bit of awkwardness lingering between the trio. And even if he did go, those lovebirds will have each other. The party has each other, Hopper has Joyce.  Steve is bound to be left out eventually. He knows it’s not on purpose, of course, but he knows how this goes. How many times has it happened before? And he’s already a little bit pissy this holiday season, that truth isn’t likely to make this any more enjoyable.

But eight pairs of eyes watch him expectantly, hopeful looks etched onto their faces. Steve’s gaze shifts past them, down the driveway and he finds Hopper’s truck waiting at the end and he doesn’t have to see the man to know he’s also waiting for an answer.

He doesn’t like disappointing people. He’s chill, Steve goes with the flow as a matter of principle, and this is where the flow seems to be leading. He makes a show of sighing, theatrics making the kids smile even wider.

“I shouldn’t –“ A series of pleas and protests interrupt him and he has to work hard to keep from smiling. Damn, Steve should have run off to New York or Hollywood and becoming an actor, he’s good at this. “- Oh, alright. I guess I can come for a little while. Dustin pumps his fist into the air as the others grin widely. Dustin rushes to the Beamer and Max isn’t far behind.

“Get your keys, Harrington, let’s get moving!” he shouts. Steve can’t help but laugh.

“Hang on, you little gremlin, I gotta get real clothes on! And do my hair!” The two set on riding with him dart back over and duck under his arm into the house, and Steve waves Will and El off. “Go on, you two, don’t wait for me. Tell Hop I’ll bring the little devils with me,” he orders. Both nod eagerly before setting off back to the car. Steve sees them off before turning back into the house. Max is in the living room, face wrinkled into something resembling disgust.

“Jesus, Steve,” she says, “Do you ever clean this place?” It has gotten pretty bad over the past month or so. Steve tries not to wince at the judgement he feels radiating off of the redhead.

“Never, it’s a point of pride at this point,” he teases instead, and she makes another face, nose crinkling before she rolls her eyes and makes a snide comment about messy boys. Steve reaches over and ruffles her hair, reveling in her giggled squawk of protest. “Oh, be nice, Mayfield. It’s a holiday!” Dustin’s footsteps thud down the stairs.

“It is the holidays, so I know you got me a gift, Harrington,” he states, eyes narrowing. “Where is it?” Max perks up in interest now, spinning from the curly-haired kid to the taller boy, eyebrows arching up.

“Oh, uh, presents? Yeah, um -” Steve smiles sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. Dustin’s eyes go wide.

“You forgot?” He marches down the rest of the stairs. “I can’t believe you, Harrington! Party members are supposed to get gifts for other party members! How could you forget?”

“Steeeve,” Max whines, head falling back dramatically. “I can’t believe you!” And she shouldn’t. Neither of them should. Again, he’s sure he’s missed his calling in life with the whole acting thing. Of course he got gifts for them – tucked safely away in the trunk of his car. He doesn’t plan on outright putting his name on them, but he’s sure the kids will figure it out tomorrow morning, which ones he leaves for them.

Chuckling at their antics, Steve hops up the stairs two at a time and dives into his room. How did this become his life, dealing with more barely-pubescent teens than any nineteen-year-old should? Steve’s shower is quick, and he styles up his hair before digging out an ugly sweater his grandmother had gotten him four years ago. Back then people were convinced the boy would go through a growth spurt; he did, but he hadn’t beefed up in the way everyone anticipated. The sweater still remains baggy on his slender frame, but he wears it nonetheless. Jeans are hastily yanked on and socked feet are shoved into sneakers before he trips his way down the steps.

Max and Dustin are anxious by the door, and he grins at them as he approaches the hall closet and grabs a coat. He hears his keys jangle softly in the pocket as he pulls it over his shoulders.

“The two of you have no patience,” he teases, watching them dash out to the car. He follows at a slower pace, amusement tugging at his lips. The kids are practically buzzing with excited energy, urging him to speed up, and they clamor into the car the moment he gets it unlocked, Max beating Dustin out for the coveted shotgun position. The younger boy pouts at Steve in the rearview mirror. Steve smiles right back at him. “Don’t look at me, she won this round, buddy.” Max’s smile is smug next to him, and Dustin scowls before slumping in the backseat. Steve shakes his head. “Alright, everybody buckle – even you, slouch potato,” The kid’s sulking is immediately replaced with a displeased squawk, and Steve doesn’t bother to hide his pleased smile as he eases out of the driveway and out onto the road.

It’s an easy trip; Steve exits Loch Nora and cruises down Dearborn. From there it’s a turn onto Maple and he has Max dig out cassettes from the glove box now. Wham! sings about holidays and heartbreak as Steve drives carefully past the Sinclair home, then the Wheelers not long after. He’s sure the occupants of both homes are either not there or too busy to be peering out of curtains in search of their kids’ babysitter, but he doesn’t want to risk having them see him do anything remotely reckless, and so he adheres to the laws of the road. Once he turns onto Cornwallis Street, he relaxes, speed inching up as he goes. Dustin’s previous sour mood has all but evaporated and he talks in that loud way of his, leaning up so he can get a look at the two people upfront. Max is just as chatty, and Steve is happy to let them converse, offering small hums here and there to show he’s listening.

He’s not really listening, but he doesn’t need them knowing.

Whiskey eyes try to focus on the road as he makes another turn, this time onto Kerley. It’s been five months since Hawkins last had to fight off monsters. Five months since the mall went down in flames. Five months since the Soviets and their needles and their gate.

He has nightmares still, about the room and the faces and the pain. Sometimes Robin’s there, panicked eyes screaming at him to help. Other times he sees Dustin, the kid looking betrayed as the general smugly tells him about Steve’s slip-up in his interrogation. Some nights he has dreams that leave him feeling physically cold. Those are the dreams he can never remember – whenever he tries, his head aches in a sharp sort of way that quickly has him leaving the whole thing alone. Even now as he thinks about it a dull throb warns him against it just behind his eyes. His thoughts wander further as the Beamer rolls onto Mirkwood.

Robin thinks he needs help. She may be right. Two weeks ago he almost had a full-blown panic attack in the back room of Family Video after seeing someone who looked eerily like the so-called doctor that ended up tugging his fingernails out with horrific ease. Even Keith had been surprised, awkwardly giving him the rest of the day off. Robin, bless her soul, tried talking him down, but ultimately she just held him while he sobbed frantically. Every day after that she gave him this look and he felt like he was suffocating under the weight of her pity, the cold force of her concern, the bitterness of her remorseful anger.

He still isn’t sure how he knew she was feeling all of that so clearly. Steve’s not great at a lot of things, but he’s always had a knack for reading a room. You learned how to do that after witnessing your parents have screaming matches almost every night they actually spent the night in Hawkins; he had to decide whether the tension in the air was manageable or too electric for him to safely involve himself in. When you struggle up the social ladder of high school, you learn how to read people and earn their favor. It’s his thing, always interpreting. It’s been five months since that little quirk seemed to get more sensitive. He doesn’t exactly know how he feels about that, or if it’s a good thing at all.

Steve slowly tunes back into conversation as he turns off of Mirkwood and makes his way down a simple dirt path. From what he can tell, Dustin and Max didn’t quite miss his additions to their conversation during the drive. Easily the two chattiest people in the Party, the older teen’s convinced they could talk for a week straight, without pause, and never notice the lack of anyone else’s input. It’s impressive, if you ask Steve. Max’s electric blue eyes catch his for a moment and she grins widely. She looks for all the world like a normal girl, not like someone who’d almost lost her brother on the Fourth of July.

The Beamer finally comes to a halt. Steve laughs as the two kids scramble out of the car and rush up the driveway. He takes a moment to turn the ignition off and now he’s suddenly feeling rather hesitant.

Why did he let them talk him into this?

The boy slumps in his seat. He should go home. He should crawl onto the couch in the living room and hide under blankets the rest of the night. The kids would not be particularly pleased with him, he’s sure, but he’ll make up for it with the gifts in the trunk. But if he leaves, when is he going to have a chance to leave those gifts for them? He certainly can’t come back tomorrow, and after that he’s just going to feel bad. Up ahead, Dustin’s head tilts as he looks back at the car.

“Harrington! You coming?” Steve hesitates, waves the kid off, and as soon as Dustin turns again he drops his head against the wheel.

He really, really should leave.

The door is slammed shut with a nudge of his hip, and Steve trudges his way up the driveway. Joyce is at the door, all smiles as usual. In spite of his doubts, the boy can’t help but smile back.

“Steve! I’m so glad you came,” she greets, pulling him into a hug as soon as he gets near. Steve settles in her hold for a few brief moments before tugging away reluctantly.

“Hey, Mrs. Byers. I would have brought something with me, but -“ Joyce cuts him off, gentle hands waving about dismissively.

“Oh, none of that,” she chides, “And it’s Joyce, honey. Besides, you can still help in the kitchen.” Her smile turns almost sheepish. “Hopper and I could use an extra hand.” Both of them are stellar single parents, but Steve knows for a fact that neither can cook to save their lives. Steve’s been mastering the art since he was thirteen, he’s gotten quite good at it. He nods at the woman as he slips past her into the house and for a moment he’s overwhelmed by how homey the place looks.

Wrapping paper, string lights, and other festive odds and ends litter the floor. Hopper and Jonathan seem to be in the process of setting up the tree in a corner. A holiday record plays loudly, barely heard over the roaring chatter of the kids yelling and running around. It’s chaos, the very best kind. He’s surrounded by the inherent warmth of it all and the lingering trepidation melts away quickly as Steve lets his shoulders relax.

Eleven notices him first among the kids, and is quick to slip out of a confused Mike’s grip to greet him. Her hug is warm, and Steve holds her tight, one hand rubbing her back as he returns her embrace.

“Hey, kid,” he chuckles, ruffling her hair. Eleven beams up at him.

“You came,” she proclaims. Now Steve lets out a full laugh.

“Well, of course I did! I couldn’t just not show up. Besides, you and Will left me with the little hellions, remember?” Will comes next, shy smile creeping across his face as he tucks himself easily against Steve’s side. Steve pretends to give him a scolding look. “Had my ear talked off the whole way here thanks to you.” Will knows for a fact the older teen isn’t even remotely upset with him. The attempted glare melts into a grin and the boy relaxes, his smile growing easier as his slender arm squeezes around Steve’s waist, then retracts as he backs off. Lucas, already trapped on the ground with Max and Erica, waves in greeting. His teeth flash brilliantly in his bright grin and Steve tips an imaginary hat in his direction. Not too far off, Mike nods in his own greeting, gruff in his usual manner but maybe the holiday magic is working because there’s something unusually friendly about the gesture. Steve returns it in kind.

When Nancy makes her appearance, she falters at the sight of him and Steve’s body almost flinches with the strangeness of it all. Her eyes blink once, twice before she gives him that sad smile.

“I didn’t know you were coming.” Steve’s answering smile is painfully awkward.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t planning on coming. The kids roped me into this last-minute, you know how it is with them.” He becomes distinctly aware of Jonathan eyeing them from across the room and clears his throat.

Yeah, maybe this is a little bit of a mistake.

His escape comes in the form of Hopper, the man’s burly arm falling across his shoulders in a gruff greeting.

“Glad you decided to show up, kid. You’re the only competent chef in this house,” he jokes, but it isn’t really a joke. You’d think a couple of adults would know how to cook a decent meal – well, Joyce can cook a decent meal, but it’s just that. His smile is only slightly less awkward as he’s guided into the kitchen, tossing an odd sort of goodbye to the girl as he goes. Joyce gives him a relieved look as he enters the kitchen.

“Steve, do you think you could help me with this soup?”

He’s kept pleasantly busy after that. Between helping with Joyce’s mushroom soup, letting Dustin peel carrots for the pot roast, taking that job away after the kid hacked apart the vegetables beyond recognition, and attempting to restore some general sense of order to the lawless land of the kitchen, Steve barely has time to think about Nancy or Jonathan or the yelling all around him. He hardly pays attention to the pleasant buzz filling his body as a result of the warm atmosphere. It’s dark by the time all the food gets finished. He’s oddly proud of himself as he looks at the spread of food on the table. It’s nothing fancy, but beef and soup and biscuits on Christmas Eve isn’t a bad idea if you ask him.

He can sit at the table with the rest of the adults. There’s space, and Joyce asks him sweetly if he’d like to sit with them. Steve feels decidedly more comfortable on the living room floor with the kids, however.

And that just seems to be the bulk of his problems sometimes, doesn’t it?

Steve Harrington is almost twenty years old, and he has nearly no friends his own age. To top things off, he also has no idea what he’s doing with himself currently, his past haunts his sleep and his waking hours, and his future is all but nonexistent. He peaked in high school and his life has been in a steady decline ever since. But it’s not all bad – at least he’s got the tragic honor of babysitting the six toughest kids in all the world.

And they aren’t even kids anymore, are they? They’re creeping up on their fifteenth birthdays, all of them. Dustin’s is less than a month away already. Steve can’t believe it. They were kids just yesterday, it feels. He was a kid just yesterday, wasn’t he? Monsters have a funny way of forcing you to grow up, he supposes. And they’ve truly grown, his kids.

Eleven’s curls bounce as her head swivels back and forth to follow their conversation, smile warm and genuine as she leans against Steve’s right. Dustin’s always by his side, the little snot. He looks so happy all the time, his eyes crinkling around the edges as he talks animatedly on his left. Mike’s grown so tall, it’s crazy. Coltish legs are folded awkwardly under him as he sits by Eleven’s side. Lucas rivals Mike in height, though he looks significantly less awkward as he leans up against an engaged Max. She’s cut her hair recently; it’s not a bad look, though he knows she wants to grow it back out again. Something about her is tinged with a bitter sadness, something that makes Steve’s throat choke up in a most peculiar way. He gets it, though; Billy’s brush with death wasn’t that long ago, and she’s still struggling with her grief. But she’ll be alright, he knows. Billy’s getting better, her friends are too stubborn to allow her to struggle alone, even if Billy isn’t their favorite. And on Mike’s other side, simply enjoying the moment, sits Will. He’s grown too, but he’s kept much of his quiet mannerisms. He catches Steve’s eye and smiles a little wider, an action Steve mimics.

Sometimes, the calmer Will Byers is the one Steve claims as his favorite. In all truth, he doesn’t have a favorite.

He has different relationships with each kid, that’s all. His relationships with some are weaker than others, weaker than he liked them to be. Some of them share a bond even Steve can’t explain. But the one thing each relationship has in common is the boy’s love for each and every one of them. There’s no favoritism, even if he tells them otherwise. There’s no choosing, none of that. Each of these six kids have Steve’s whole heart.

It’s Eleven who catches him staring next, and she must see the fondness on his face because the smile she gives him is soft and tender and knowing in its own way. Eleven took to him surprisingly quick; he didn’t quite understand it yet, but he was glad the kid felt so at ease with him.

He’s dragged into the present by Dustin very suddenly collapsing against his side, snorting in laughter as Mike stares at Lucas, offense clear on his face.

“How do you not like the Beastie Boys?” he questions, and now it’s Steve’s turn to snort.

“No one likes the Beastie Boys, Mike,” he chuckles, trying to ignore the appalled look the younger teen gives him. “It’s just what you listen to when you reach the teen rebellion phase.”

“I’m not rebellious!” Mike huffs. Steve’s sure Karen Wheeler would beg to differ.

He doesn’t want to spend the night. Joyce already has her hands full with all these kids, and he doesn’t want to add on to that, so he goes out to the car once the kids have all gone to sleep in the basement and gets his sack of presents and he’s going to leave after giving them to Hopper, but Joyce stops him, a curious look on her face.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” she questions. Steve feels awkward now, shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“You’ve already got plenty of people spending the night, Mrs. By-“

“None of that,” she cuts him off with a wave of her hand. “You’ll have to come back tomorrow anyway if you leave, you’re having dinner with us.” Steve doesn’t remember agreeing to that, but now he doesn’t have a choice. Hopper, setting a gift under the tree, grunts in agreement.

“She’s right, kid,” he confirms as he stands straight again. “Can’t get out of this one, the kids won’t leave your door until you come back with them. It’ll be much easier on everyone if you just stay.”

And he doesn’t want to because this is their tradition, this is something they’ve been doing together for years as one large family and Steve isn’t really a part of that, so he wants to give them space, but Joyce is already dragging him back inside with the gifts, then she’s off grabbing blankets and Hopper busies him with the task of wrapping last-minute gifts until he forgets wanting to leave.

The couch is his for the night. Joyce gets him some of Jonathan’s clothes and even kisses his forehead and wishes him a merry Christmas before retreating to her room for the night. Hopper wishes him a good rest, and he understands because it’s already ass o’clock in the morning and it’s only a matter of time before those kids come barreling up the stairs to yell about their gifts. The living room is dark, aside from the gentle blinking of the string lights on the tree. It’s a silent night, indeed. He feels warm, and not just from the blankets tucked in close around him.

For the first time in three nights, Steve sleeps. He’s blissfully without dreams.

It lasts barely five hours.

The basement door is opened quite aggressively, and a cacophony of feet thud in before he hears a loud hushing sound, followed by the loudest whisper he’s ever heard.

“Dudes, Steve’s asleep!” one of the little shits hisses. Steve’s fairly sure it’s Dustin. He prays they turn around and go back downstairs for another hour or two.

“Shut up, he’s gonna hear you!” a girl’s voice hisses back, and she’s impossibly louder than the first kid – undeniably Max, Eleven would never whisper that loud. Jesus, who taught them how to whisper?

“Both of you shut up, let’s just get to the target,” a third, quieter voice butts in, and they’re just quiet enough that Steve can’t tell who it is, which tells him it’s either Mike or Will. He’s betting on Mike.

He knows what their target is. Steve takes a moment to contemplate. Either he lets them poke around the presents until Jim or Joyce come in and stop them, which will definitely result in loud protesting and a permanent end to his rest, or he can get up now and get a little bit of sympathy from at least Will for them waking him up. Either way, he’s awake now.

He hears someone poking at a box and goes with the latter.

“Aren’t you little shitheads supposed to wait for your parents?” he groans, eyes peering at the group blearily. All six of them freeze.

“Abort mission?” Lucas whispers to Mike.

“Abort mission,” Steve confirms before the other kid gets a chance, sitting up and stretching. Eleven treads silently over to the sofa and finds her way under his blanket to press into his side.

“Merry Christmas,” she hums, as if she has nothing to do with the early morning shenanigans that roused him. Will joins them on the sofa, and it’s clear the other four are trying to decide how to best fit themselves on the piece of furniture with their babysitter. It’s about to get very cramped, he realizes.

“Yeah, yeah, bah humbug,” he grumbles in reply, but no one misses his fond smile.

Joyce makes her appearance thirty minutes after that, and of all the things she expects to see on a Christmas morning, this was decidedly not it. None of the kids on the couch notice her upfront, too caught up in their giggles and hushed conversation. Steve looks tired, she notes, but he’s not as pale or tired-looking as he was yesterday. He may not be her kid, but she worries about him nevertheless as if he was. Shaking her head slightly, she pads further into the room.

“I hope you all didn’t wake Steve up,” she tells the younger teens as she reaches the sofa. Guilty looks are shared and a few mouths open in hopes of explaining themselves, but Steve beats them all to the punch.

“They didn’t,” he covers, smiling softly up at the woman. “I was up before these hellions tried getting into the presents.” Joyce doesn’t believe him, not for a second, but she leaves it alone as she leans down and gives Will and Eleven kisses on their forehead. Max gets one next, followed by a gentle ruffling of Mike’s hair because he gets fussy about kisses. Lucas smiles as he gets a kiss, and Dustin responds in kind. Even Steve gets a kiss, and he smiles in spite of his surprise.

“Thank you, for keeping them out of the presents,” she tells him as she straightens up and sways off towards the kitchen. He thinks about going to help her, but he looks at the kids sprawled out on the sofa with him and he just can’t bring himself to make them get up, so he stays put. They whisper back and forth about present predictions (Dustin makes a passive comment about some people forgetting to buy presents, Max makes a face at Steve and it takes serious effort to not laugh), and by the time Joyce returns with coffee the six are practically bouncing with restlessness. Their excitement is downright infectious, Steve feels their giddy joy in his bones, his stomach twisting in a good sort of anxiousness. Hopper shuffles in soon after, makes his way directly to the kitchen and gets himself a mug of coffee. He brings an extra one out for a very grateful Steve. Mike makes a face when the smell of caffeine reaches his nose. Lucas doesn’t have to smell it before he gets that disgusted look on his face.

“I can’t understand why you drink that stuff,” he states. Steve inhales the warm smell, sips on the drink (and he’s got to give the chief a thanks because it’s got just the right amount of cream and sugar – not too much, but just enough to take the edge off of the bitter taste), and pauses for added drama before forming his response.

“Lucas, my friend, let’s revisit this conversation when you hit nineteen.” He rests the mug on top of Eleven’s wild curls and revels in her giggled protest.

Outside, the sun is just beginning to poke through the darkness. Steve glances towards the window, watches the black sky turning into blue, and couldn’t help but feel that maybe, maybe, this Christmas isn’t going to be so bad after all.

In an attempt to distract the gaggle of children from the glistening presents under the tree, Steve finally nudges the kids off of him and makes his way to his feet, and he stretches out his body with a few, satisfying cracks in his spine. He’s getting old.

“Hey. You little gremlins want hot cocoa?”

They do, of course they do. And they follow him like a line of duckling behind their mother as Steve trudges into the kitchen. They sit in a row and happily sip on the warm drinks as the brunette then sets about making breakfast. Joyce rubs his shoulder and says he didn’t have to, but Steve is happy to do it, he likes making himself useful. Besides, he’s good at this, the kids love his pancakes. He even whips up scrambled eggs and slices of wonderfully crisp bacon. The smell draws a bleary-eyed Jonathan from his room. He looks surprised by Steve’s presence, but offers a small smile.

“Merry Christmas,” he offers, ruffling Will’s hair on his way by. He pours himself a cup of coffee, and Steve smiles back at him.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas to you too.”

#steebie writes #steve harrington #stranger things au #stranger things fanfiction

[fioreofthemarch]

quick and dirty writing update

are you even allowed to put ‘dirty’ in the title of tumblr posts anymore?

I’ve been away for a really long time, but Age of Calamity got me interested in BOTW again. Here are some plans for current and future works on AO3:

1) I’m working on a new BOTW longfic: Working title Wanderers, set approx 30+ years post-game in the same canon as FTGU. My goal is to write the entire thing and subject some poor betas to it before publishing, so ETA at a minimum is like, 3 to 6 months. I don’t want to overpromise the same way I did for FTGU, but it’s coming. In the usual way, it’s heavily focused on worldbuilding, OCs and politiking, so fair warning lol.

2) From the Ground Up needs one hell of an edit: I’ve been meaning to do this for years. I’ve been hesitant to because, well, it’s done, and I don’t want to mess with it, but there are actual errors that need fixing. These are mostly grammar/spelling/continuity. I have at least one major change I want to make, and I’ll make a post about that at some point. The Ballad’s Beginning will also get a polish, but that’s less of a priority. 

3) I’m taking down Hyrule Compendium: I’m not happy with the state that it’s in, and I think the summary overpromises for what it ended up being. I don’t have any plans to add to it now, and if I do write stories in the same style (lore-focused, shorter works), I’ll create a collection for them rather than a work. I’ll reupload Where the World Ends and Rise and Fall of the Yiga as their own works. 

4) Saturday Morning Link and Zelda fic is still on the cards: I spoke a while ago about wanting to write a fun, Monster of the Week style fic for Link and Zelda about all the adventures and scrapes they get into pre/during/post game... and then immediately shelved it. I want to come back to it but just not sure when, and this may be my BOTW 2 project. The current BOTW map is somewhat sparse, so hoping BOTW 2 will give us new situations and enemies to deal with.

5) Sorry about that one Chernobyl fanfic: I was in a dark place and that show really spoke to me. 

Have a safe and happy holidays yall.

#my writing #ftgu #fanfic