#elementary french 2

[faerociousbeast]

show that you know nothing about but makes you so mad for no reason: miraculous ladybug miraculous ladybug miracul

#i had a cousin of a cousin who was obsessed and wanted me to watch it but i already hated it #and then i found out my entire friend group in the last year of elementary watched it and they started talking about nothing else #and its just why would you make a love square with 2 people and then give them more love interests on top of that and why why why why #why would i watch that why would you think id ever want to i dont want to #why are there even theories the only theories that seem possible are how many more love interests can they give these teenagers #without making it gay #or something #i hate that stupid blonde twink i hope he dies i hate the french girl not to sound like dei but she can explode

[icyg4l]

PAC: Sister-to-Sister Messages

As promised, I said that I would post messages this weekend in regard to Women’s History Month based on the results of yesterday’s poll. This reading will be all about sister-to-sister dynamics. I am so thankful for the support that I have been receiving for these readings. It’s much appreciated! 🤌🤌 Anyway, today is the last day of the five dollar flash sale!! All readings will be $5 today! Come get it if you want it!!! Without further ado, choose your sister duo.

*** Disclaimer: These readings are meant to uplift, relate to, and/or inspire women!

Left-to-Right (1-3): Chloe and Halle, Beyoncé and Solange, Tia & Tamera.

Pile 1: If you resonate with the photo of Chloe and Halle, then this is your pile. First of all, your potential hasn’t even peaked yet, Pile One. Your sister wants you to know that you should continue to pursue your dreams. I feel like you have the tendency to start stuff but not finish it. What’s that about? She’s noticed this since yall were young but probably thought you would’ve grown out of it. But she still thinks that you will prosper. Those who resonate with this pile seem to be the baby in the family. You may feel like your sister acts too much like your mother, but she just wants what’s best for you. I feel like your sister is very successful/accomplished & you may feel that pressure to follow her footsteps. But in reality, she just wants you to be you. Be an individual, babe. And the last message that I got from this pile was kind of funny. Your sister feels like you work too hard. Where’s your boo thang? You need to let some stress off with a sexual partner chile, especially if someone’s been putting in effort to talk to you. Give them a chance! Maybe you can find a creative spark from messing around with them! In the end, your sister is supportive of your creative pursuits. She just wants you to put in more effort.

Cards Used: The Star: King of Wands, Four of Cups, Prince of Wands, Page of Discs (RX), 3 of Discs.

extras: “you’re being uptight.” “i’d put my life on the line for you.” spotlight. errands. ADD. chronic lip licker. “you stole my clothes.” new wardrobe. a kiss on the cheek. pillows. voluptuous. chanel. argan oil. tree climbing. golf. tennis. pierced earlobe. “i didn’t get you anything, sorry.”

Pile 2: If you resonate with the photo of Beyoncé and Solange, this is your pile. Damn Pile Two, you’re quite the looker aren’t you? Your sister sees the physical growth that you’ve made in the past two years and she is in awe of it! You’re absolutely flawless dear! But don’t forget to hold onto your vision. I feel like this pile is in high school? Maybe a freshman in college. But you have a lot of admirers. I feel like your sister is younger than you & they feel like you’re not paying attention to her as you as you used to. She feels like you mistreat her, not necessarily on purpose. It may be because you’re so busy. She wants you to not forget about them. Your sister is proud of your pursuit of higher learning (if you’re in college). She is going to follow in your footsteps because of this. But make sure you keep your promises, babe. Go to that yogurt shop with her. Go shopping with her at the mall. Go to the movies. Hell, go to the park with her. Paint with her. Spend quality time with your sister so she can stop feeling this way!

Cards Used: Nine of Cups, Ace of Discs, Four of Discs, Five of Swords, 7 of Cups (RX), Princess of Cups, 10 of Discs.

extras: strawberry & banana smoothie. teenage dirtbag. furry boots. sweet treats. calming down after nightmare. salad. elephant lover. french tips. sparkles. ribbons. bows. “speak up, honey”. abbott elementary. “i want more you.” “honesty is everything.” “keep my secret.” conceited by remy ma.

Pile 3: Last but not least, if you resonate with the photo of Tia and Tamera, then this your pile. Aw, Pile Three, your sister regrets the last conversation y’all had. I feel like this conversation could have been about how personal choices affect loved ones, i.e. bringing around terrible dating partners/friends, not paying off debts in time. It also could have been a conversation about codependency or feeling smothered. It feels like your sister understands why you left; you wanted to put yourself first. It took her some time to realize that y’all can be separate and still have love for you. Y’all need time apart to grow. Do you have a twin, Pile Three? Or were you extremely connected to your sister on a soul level at some point? There will be some time for y’all to reconnect but just not right now. There’s some stubborn energy between the both of you but y’all will reconnect once there is momentum in the both of you guys’ lives. She doesn’t hate you for being independent, but she does hate the way things ended, Pile Three.

Cards Used: Eight of Cups, The World, Five of Swords, Four of Discs, Two of Wands, Nine of Discs, Strength, 7 of Wands.

extras: “i have the balls, you don’t.” “it’s my prerogative.” oil and vinegar. liv and maddie. perfectionism. credit card debt. “drink up.” doodlebob. responsibilities. the old days. unplugged cords. cauliflower. fake vegan. bad eyesight. chloe bailey. drinking water. messy bedroom.

#law of assumption #manifesting #neville goddard #hoodoo #tarot #tarotreading #astro notes #pick a card #pick a pile #divination #spirituality #tarot deck #tarotcommunity #pac reading #pick an image #daily tarot #free tarot #pick a reading #tarot cards #tarot pull #tarot pick a card #tarot reading #Spotify

[far-beyond-saving]

"'You're so different,' he says, shaking his head and squinting at me.

'I may have grown a few centimetres since I was eleven.'

'No, it's—' He stops himself.

I put down my phone. 'What? It's what?'

'You're more serious.'

I don't remember not being serious. As far as I'm concerened, I came out of the womb spouting cynicism and wishing for rain." (Oseman 73)

This is an analysis of Tori Spring and her unreliability as a narrator. It will be incredibly long, so I hope I do not bore anyone.

Lucas, as we know, had been Tori's best friend throughout elementary school. He had a dream, to chase after his childhood best friend and start a beautiful romance—which was nicely foreshadowed by the line: "'[The Great Gatsby is] about...' He pauses to think. 'It's about someone who's in love with a dream'" (72). However, he realizes that she wasn't the person he thought she was. Or rather, she isn't the person she used to be.

Alongside Lucas, there are two other characters that hint at the fact that Tori was never this pessimistic: Mr. Kent and Becky.

Near the beginning of the novel, Tori mentions how she and Kent know each other quite well because he has been her teacher for over five years. And, throughout the novel, Kent continuously shows his concern for Tori and her attitude towards life. It would make a lot of sense for him to be this concerned if he had actually seen life in Tori to begin with. Along with that, it is very clear that Tori is liked by the teachers, as stated by Becky on page 79. Again, it would make more sense for this to be the case if she was a different person when she was younger.

Finally: Becky. Throughout the novel, Tori feels incredibly jealous towards her best friend, and she feels the gap between them comes from the fact that Becky moved on while she stayed exactly where she was. However, during their argument after the Solitaire party, Becky says, "you've changed. I might have changed too, but you definitely have. And that's not necessarily a bad thing, but it's true" (310). This completely contradicts everything Tori has told the reader.

The scene in which Tori reads her old diary illustrates my point perfectly.

"Up at the crack of 10:30am. Becky et moi went to the cinema today and saw Pirates of the Carribean (is that how you spell it???) 2 and OMG it was SO GOOD. Becky thinks Orlando Bloom is the fittest. Then we went to get pizza in the high street she had Hawaiian but obviously mine was plain cheese. YUM! She's coming round next week for a sleepover too. She says she needs to tell me about a boy that she likes!! And we're going to eat so much food and stay up all night and watch films!!!!!" (274)

It's very clear with the exclamation marks and enthusiasm in her tone that no, she was not born serious. Unlike now, Tori used to be genuinely happy to listen to Becky's relationships with boys. And—my favourite detail—the use of French in the second sentence. The word "moi" was almost always used by tweens as a quirky replacement for "me" (source: me. I used to use that word all of the time because I thought it was cute and silly. Gross). This is my favourite detail because of an earlier scene with Oliver when Tori says, "Are you suggesting that Charlie is better at Mario Kart than moi?" (63). Now, this could just be a coincidence, but I like to think that this is Tori's inner child being revealed to her little brother, especially because she would never speak to anyone else in that way. But, I digress.

So, I have now established how Tori has been unreliable with the way she describes herself, but what else has she been lying about? I think the most obvious answer is her hatred and lack of knowledge about literature.

Unlike everything I explained above, Tori does admit to lying near the end of the book, saying that books scare her because of how personal they feel. However, there are many things that contradicted her prior to this reveal. For example, her grades in her previous English class—as mentioned by Kent—and the way she used to read with Lucas.

After Lucas speaks about the books he is currently reading, Tori tells the reader, "I nod as if I understand. I don't. I don't know a single thing about literature despite studying it for A level" (72). Yet when Michael tests her on famous literary works, she is able to answer every question correctly, once again contradicting everything she has said.

Her unreliability is not deliberate, it comes from lies she tells herself. However, it seems like she knows the truth deep down. But I guess she is justified. After all, it feels better to say you were born serious than to admit to the damage the world has done to you.

#i hope this is worth something to someone #oh god this is quite long #nobody would want to read such an essay #i hope it does not seem like i am grasping at straws this #these are just things that i noticed #i tried to follow mla quotation rules but i know i broke them in many different places #because i am not actually writing an essay #forgive me #tori spring #solitaire alice oseman #becky allen #lucas ryan #michael holden #solitaire analysis #cynic.txt

[prongsiess]

i love a good rosier twins hc but I raise you one better (imo): rosier cousins to 2 sets of twins.

i had this teacher in elementary school and she was an identical twin and those twins also married identical twins (do not ask me how it happened, i do not know, i was 8 when i received this information). these 2 sets of twins got married and then each had one child each: a boy and a girl born a few days apart (i swear i couldn’t make this up if i tried, the kids’ name both start with the same letter too just like twins).

these two families are neighbours with connecting backyards and basically grew up as siblings.

it would make sense cause of arranged pureblood marriage crap and they had to share a house because both men were the heirs to the rosier name. the pregnancies are obviously also planned but evan was born a premie and his due date was the same as pandora. so give me rosiers cousins.

give me evan born on september 7th (a virgo) and pandora born on october 7th (a libra). give me evan being a hypervocal child at a young age and telling people what dora was thinking because he just knew. give me dora learning how to walk before evan and walking around to get things evan was listing out for her when they were playing with their play potions kits.

give me dora and evan living in the same townhouse similar to grimauld because their fathers were both the heirs to the rosier name and power. give me their mothers being from a powerful french pureblood family so they would spend their summers in a french villa with endless gardens where they would play explorers.

give me dora and evan always wanting to share a room but never being allowed to so they would sneak into each other’s rooms most nights and have sleepovers.

give me dora and evan that look like twins, because they essentially are, genetically and emotionally speaking, siblings. give me them just going with it as children because they always wanted siblings but it’s okay because they has each other and that was better. give me all of hogwarts being shocked when they wished dora a happy birthday on september 7th and finding out her birthday is only a month later.

give me evan gloating when he turned 17 cause he could buy dora’s favourite dandelion wine but she couldn’t. give me dora calling evan an old man when she had to get the knots out of his back as a pre-teen cause he was growing too fast and was maladjusted.

so yeah, give me rosier twins that are actually cousins but actually twins.

#pandora rosier #pandora lovegood #ravenclaw pandora lovegood #evan rosier #rosier twins #evan and pandora #marauders #marauders era #pandalily #pandora x xenophilius #rosekiller #slytherin skittles #the emeralds

[witchywitchy]

The current world leaders who are complicit to the massacring and ethnic cleansing of Palestinians, and insist on portraying us, Arabs, as 'terrorists', are the same ones that committed all of these atrocities and many more:

1) Algerians massacred under French colonialism

2) Libyans massacred under Italian colonialism

3) Egypt and the bombing of Bahr Al-Baqar elementary school because Israel thought it was a military base (that was in 1970!)

https://english.ahram.org.eg/NewsContent/1/64/199065/Egypt/Politics-/Egypts-Bahr-AlBaqar-Flashbacks-of-an-Israeli-war-c.aspx

And there are many more examples if you do your research, but I need you all to just take a look at some of the awful atrocities carried out by the "civilized" West. The reason you need to look at their past is to understand their present. They claim they've changed and are not the colonial and imperial powers of the past, but they're contributing to the ethnic cleansing of Palestinians today!

The false narrative of Arabs being the "terrorists" is dismantled, and we're going to use the word on the real terrorists!

#free palestine #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #palestine #gaza #signal boost #social justice #palestine resources #colonialism #imperialism #jerusalem #history #the west bank #hamas #stop the genocide #gaza strip #free gaza #tel aviv #yemen

[cinefairy]

Y'ALLL!!! when people say that self concept is key they mean: IT. IS. THE. KEY!

here's my success story from focusing on my self concept for a week! just a single week, i am in tears!!

so before, i used to brush off self concept and think that i'll work on it/get a got sc when i get my other desires, which is all wrong. i am so thankful that i let go of the old story, i used to limit myself and wasn't even aware. self concept can easily show you all your desires in the 3d, and then some!! the realisation made my life a 1000x easier.

then i read some posts and success stories that came about all thanks to self concept and i said to myself: that can be me, it is time to stop perceiving myself as a victim/bad manifestor, and i should just start focusing on my self concept! it is time to change the story.

so i started vaunting and ranting and affirming how my self concept is amazing, through the roof, wonderful, perfect, never fails me... you get the story. i didn't even visualize, didn't go into the void, didn't script. i was vaunting in front of the mirror, looking at myself and sometimes pretending i was talking to someone. i repeated that for a week, and almost every day i got some of my desires !!!

now, onto what i manifested:

1. An adorable kitten! my parents never would have gotten me a cat, no matter how much i asked them to, so i just relaxed myself and stepped into the mindset that no matter what anyone in my reality does or says, my desires are here and nothing can stop them. on the second day of the week, my parents asked me if i wanted a cat because my grandparents' cat just gave birth to three cutest kittens.

2. Perfect vision! i am someone who has been wearing glasses my entire life, my sight was deteriorated at birth due to some complications during labor, and my optician told me some years ago that there was no chance for me to be fully recovered (i had a couple of surgeries so far, and constant check-ups, it was so nagging and uncomfortable). she also told me a month ago that i should not use my phone, but nothing can stand between me and my screen time so i just decided to manifest my bad eyesight away! and i did it, but it's weird without my glasses lmao.

3. A new friend group! my old friends were closed-minded people, i am talking unsuportive, bashing on other people, but 'kind' only to others in the friend group, full of negativity and hate. i just needed a fresh friend group, so i manifested one! one of my friends now goes to the same uni as me, we start in october and it's so exciting heheh

4. Fluent in French language! i just wanted to be fluent in a language that wasn't my first language or english, and i had been studying french in elementary school so that seemed like the best option for me.

5. Money! i manifested the amount of my scholarship to double in my bank account and for no one to bat an eye at that, and for a certain amount of money to appear in my wallet daily (yes, spawning thing is so simple with the right mindset!!!), and for my parents to be rich because they deserve it.

6. A perfect dorm room! the dorm rooms my sister had been living in were just not it, so i needed to take thing in my own hands and manifest a two-bed bedroom with it's own bathroom (no communal bathrooms for me pls) in a dorm not far away from college which i share with another friend.

7. Desired body! my figure now is slim, i have 6-line abs odbwkdbajwhj i could only dream of that a month ago, everything on this list makes me so happy!! i went shopping with my mom yesterday and every pair of heans i tried actually fit me which is a big deal for me lol

8. Lenient parents! as i mentioned, my parents were not the ones to let me get a pet, and they also were very strict with my school grades in the past, and with my going out and hanging out with friends. but now, i have a great relationship with them, they are relaxed and they don't forbid me from doing anything (i literally am going on a staycation with a friend this weekend).

9. New clothes! yesterday during shopping, i found so many amazing sweatshirts, even one that is croptopped which i never used to wear, but got the courage to because who else would wear it if not a bad bitch?? i got a denim jacket, some jeans, sneakers... all i need at a discount!!

self concept makes life easy!! asf!! just stay focused on your new reality and there is nothing you can't get! have fun manifesting, and thank you cinefairy for opening my eyes <333

LETS GOOOOO THIS IS SO AMAZING ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ SO PROUD OF YOU ANON WOOW. all these achievements just from affirming how amazing you are.

#ask

[c0ld0utside]

Hi💜💜💜

Firstly I just wanted to say that I loved your writing, it's very good and I loved the story you wrote about the human father and the monster son, I would like part 2 of this story if it wasn't too much trouble (of course only if you want to do it)

What’s this, a part 2?

Yeah, it’s a part two. 

Joey and Tim back at it again.

Warnings (Let me know if I need to add any): Mention of force-feeding, mention of bondage, mention of “Joey”!Reader’s horns are filed down, mention of “Joey”!Reader getting muzzled, infantilization(?)

It’s been a few months since you were adopted by Tim, and the first few weeks with him were rough, to say the least. Any chance you got, you’d either bite, headbutt, and scratch him, or you’d make a break for it. This led to him having to file your horns down after one of them nicked his cheek and putting a muzzle on you after you bit him so hard he had to get stitches. Tim wasn’t happy about it at all.

He wasn’t happy about having to force-feed you, either. He didn’t know why you wouldn’t eat the meals he made you. Tim made sure to include everything since he didn’t know what your species ate. Meats, seafood, dairy, grains, greens, fruits…you either wouldn’t eat it or would find a way to cough it up. Tim had to settle on making you drink smoothies and protein shakes.

“I hate doing this to you. You’re not an animal, sweetness. Stop making me treat you like one.” He’d say, rubbing your head gently as he tried to help you fall asleep. It would’ve been nice had your arms and legs not been tied together with rope. “Anyone else would treat you like one, but I don’t. I know you’re sentient enough. You’re not a dog. Just work with me, okay?”

“I’m doing so much for you, you have no idea. Can you even fully understand me? Probably not. I wonder what that’s like- well, I kind of can. It’s been a while though.”

Begrudgingly, you did. You stopped lashing out and let him feed you food that wasn’t put through the blender. You pay attention when he reads you stories and shows you those silly things on his “phone.” Tim called them “educational videos,” leaving out the fact that they were targeted at pre-schoolers and elementary school kids. You fight the urge to run whenever he has you trace the cursive prints in the writing workbooks he bought.

Tim is especially understanding whenever you voice your hatred for math with hisses and growls during the middle of a problem. It was easy at first- adding, subtracting, multiplying, dividing…and then fractions and decimals came in. Once you got the hang of reading and writing, Tim enrolled you in online classes. “Remember to put on those contacts I got you,”  He’ll say at least ten minutes before your first class starts.

Unlucky for you, Tim works from home as a translator, so that means no escape attempts during the day. He changed up the lock to your bedroom so it locks from the outside and nailed your window shut. “I’m really sorry sweetness, I don’t trust you entirely just yet.” Tim had explained. “It’s fair, right? You don’t completely trust me, and I don’t completely trust you to not run away.”

Today’s different. Much to his surprise, you’ve curled up into his side, watching as he translates a book into French. Tim’s surprise melts into pure joy. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer as he works. 

“What’d you learn today?” Tim asks, gaze shifting back to his laptop screen. “How genes work,” You reply simply. “It made me wonder who my sire is. I take after them more.” 

Tim hums in reply. “You’re a funky little guy, I’ll give you that.” He says, gently scratching your head, fingers running through your…mane? Hair? He doesn’t know what to call it. “Does your species have a name?” Tim asks, sounding genuinely curious. You shake your head.

“My parent never told me much about my “species.” We just are, I guess. That and to stay away from others because they’ll try to kill me.” You say.

“Like bears?” Tim assumes. You can only shrug. “Probably. How do bears behave?” He shuts his laptop. “Alrighty, documentary time,” Tim says, getting up to put his laptop away. 

“What about your job?” You ask, sitting up on the couch. “No need to worry. I’m almost done and I could use a break, anyway.” He answers dismissively, plugging the device in to charge on the counter. Walking back over to you, Tim grabs the TV remote off the coffee table and turns it on. Opening up some streaming service, he turns on a nature documentary and sits down next to you.

“Isn’t this nice?” Tim asks. “Sure,” you offer, reaching up to feel your horns. They’re coming back in, slowly but surely. Tim promised that he wouldn’t file them down again unless you tried to hurt him again. Which is fair. He takes notice of your movements, expression turning apologetic. 

On the TV, the narrator observes a herd of zebras. “...Is it still a firm no?” You pipe up. Tim lets you have online friendships with the other kids in your classes, but won’t let you see them in person. “On meeting up with Shay and Lucas?” 

Tim sighs. “Sweetness, you know it’s dangerous. Other humans aren’t accepting like I am, and I don’t want you to be taken away and prodded at by scientists. You’re a person, not an-” “-Animal. I know.” You cut him off irritatedly. 

“Hey,” He says, tone softening. “...How about this. You can meet up with them, but I come with you. Deal?” 

“Is that the only option I have?” You ask. “Mhm,” Tim hums.

“Fine. Deal.”

-

I'm taking advantage of my break to catch up on asks instead of writing an essay. No regrets. As always, criticism is welcome.

May I just say, you're looking divine today. Have you ever had a fruit bowl before? You should try it.

#yandere #platonic #platonic yandere #yandere dad #yandad #yandere platonic

[kpop-addict25]

Real Life MCSM AU character background information:

gender-neutral!Jesse

Their full name is Jesse Kaylin Prescott

They are born in Los Angeles, California on 15th August 1999

They grew up in a loving family

Their mom worked in a convenience store while their father worked as a car mechanic

Growing up they had a serious dyslexic disorder which got better within the years

They had a hard time finding friends and were constantly bullied in elementary school

They are very artistic and found comfort in drawing

Their parents divorced when they started high school

They graduated with honors at St. Bernard High School in the Arts department

Few years before graduating they moved to a smaller city within California with their mother where they met their best friends

As soon as they moved they signed up for the EnderCon building competition where they met the Ocelots for the first time

They held a big grudge against the Ocelots (mostly Aiden)

A year before the Witherstorm accident they met Reuben and took him under their wing

Growing up they wanted to work as a famous artist but their dream was ruined by the accident and were forced to become a hero

Olivia

Her full name is Olivia Aatkani

She is born in Marrakesh, Morocco on 13th May 1998

She grew up in a poor family until she moved to California at the age of 12

Her parents worked as farmers for small money which was barely enough for food

She has 2 sisters and 3 brothers and she is the youngest one

As soon as the family moved in California their lives started to get slightly better

Her father opened a restaurant for Moroccan culinary which became very successful

She studied at Newark Memorial High School and graduated with the highest grade in her whole class

A little before she graduated she found her best friends

She wanted to seek a higher education but her plans changed as soon as the Witherstorm accident occurred

She can fluently speak Arabic and she learned a little bit of French

Her biggest fear growing up was that she would never be successful enough

She constantly says that the happiness moment in her life was when she got accepted in High School

Since she was little, she always found interest in botanical life and dreamed of having a botanical garden of her own

Axel

His full name is Axel Marshal Lee

He is born in Honolulu, Hawaii on 5th October 1996

His parents owned a little family business which made enough money so he can have a rather normal life

His mother is American while his father has Russian roots

He has a big brother who lives and studies in Canada

As a baby he was a very picky eater but growing up he started loving everything

He spent the first years of his education homeschooled

He went to Kalani High School where he was the school troublemaker

He got expelled from there because of his attitude towards his classmates

His parents were furious and kicked him out of the house and he was forced to live with his uncle for a while in California

As soon as he went to California he became friends with Jesse and Olivia

Him and his parents are still mad at each other but he is still in contact with his brother

He admits that he wasn’t proud of his past and promised himself that he will do better with his future

He considered continuing his education but he wasn’t able to because of the Witherstorm

Petra

Her full name is Petra Hazel Cory

She is born in Dallas, Texas on 26th June 1997

Her mother worked as a school nurse while her father worked as a manager in a prestigious company

When she was little most of the other kids were scared of her because of her tough personality

In her teenage years, she looked like a cold person but deep inside she was longing for people’s attention and approval

She moved to live in California after a big argument with her parents

She attended the San Leandro High School and she graduated with an average grade

She used to be in a band where she was a drummer

She started working multiple jobs so she can afford an apartment to live in

Despite being in cahoots with her parents they supported her for a while until she was able to earn money by herself

She met Jesse and their friends at the store where she worked

A little after she graduated, she got a sword tattoo on her shoulder which symbolised her tough personality and her admiration towards Gabriel the Warrior

Even though he is nothing but a fraud, Petra thinks that Gabriel is a good role model and mentor

She still has a little purple spot on her arm after her Wither-sickness was cured

Lukas

His full name is Lukas Kang

His korean name is Kang Jae-seong

He is born in Daegu, South Korea on 22nd March 1995

His mother is German and his father is Korean

His father works as a surgeon while his mother is a stay-at-home mom

He has an older brother who is married and has a little child

He studied at Gyeongsin High School and graduated with the second highest grade in his whole class

He used to be the captain of the basketball team and he still plays in his free time

One summer when he was on a trip with his parents to California, he became friends with the Ocelots and started to participate with them in the building competition

Since his school was all the way in Korea, he went every summer to California so he can complete with his friends

As soon as he graduated, he moved to California to live with the rest of the Ocelots

He went to university for a little but he had to drop out because of the Witherstorm, saying that he is way “too stressed” to continue

He can fluently speak Korean, Japanese and a little bit of Chinese

In Korea he was quite popular for his natural blue eyes

He used to have black hair until he started bleaching it

He has piercings on his ears during the Witherstorm arc and he gets another one on his eyebrow after that

He has a star tattoo on the side of his neck, under his ear

If he could, he could have became a k-pop idol

He loves music and wanted to become a songwriter but of course he couldn’t because of the Witherstorm and his problems with the Ocelots

He has great vocal skills and according to Jesse he has “angel’s voice”. Also he can play guitar and piano earning the title of “musical prodigy” by the Order

#minecraft story mode #mcsm #mcsm headcanons #mcsm au #Real Life MCSM AU #mcsm jesse #mcsm olivia #mcsm axel #mcsm petra #mcsm lukas

[sailor-peeking]

A list of things I learned about Robin Buckley while listening to the prequel podcast about her (spoilers...duh) :

Robin has an emotional support English teacher named Mr. Hauser who runs the theater department

Robin auditioned for a play and almost passed out embarrassing herself.

Robin Buckley is an avid reader reading books way above her grade level but performing as a b average student on purpose.

Robin dreams of running away and has sinced elementary school.

Robin is a big fan of Frankenstein and believes that in the book Dr. Frankenstein is the real monster for playing God.

Robin's dream is to go on a vacation to France (she calls it operation croissant.)

and then move out of Hawkins entirely.

For Halloween Robin was Annie Lennox for Halloween, 1983.

Robin notices that Tammy Thompson smells like raspberries and she mentions that it reminds her of the scented stickers she collected as a child

Robin is nearly fluent in French and has picked up Italian by the time she is a sophomore.

Robin dreams of learning Russian (ironic.)

Robin was friends with Barb until the 6th grade when Barb joined a club with Nancy and they fell out of contact

Robin has 2 friends (term used lightly) named Kate and Milton.

Robin says that her parents aren't really parents they're more like "domesticated hippies" they never really ask her about anything

Robin was banned from riding her bike to school after what happened with Barb and Will. And instead has to take the bus (where she is harassed verbally)

Robin says even her teacher looks at Steve "as if his hair cured cancer."

Robin doesn't particularly like Nancy.

Robin worked at the Movie theater before scoops ahoy

Robin refers to her friends as "the odd squad ™"

Robin feels like she's broken, like there's something "wrong" or "rotten." About her

A boy named Roy makes Lewd comments to Robin that make her uncomfortable

Robin compares Steve to Jack from Lord of the Flies.

Robin likes the outsider's book.

Robin's friends boyfriend Dash thinks she's in a relationship/sleeping with her English teacher.

Robin really enjoys being able to leave her math class early for the cafeteria cookies while they're hot.

Robin's English teacher is Gayyyyy✨🌈🌈🌈🌈 (And Barb is an 🌈✨Ally ✨🌈)

Robin pulled the fire alarm to frame her friends boyfriend for trying to get Hauser fired

Robin was working the day Steve cleaned up the graffiti at the movie theater.

Robin refers to Hawkins society as "the monster™"

The first time Robin talks to Tammy Thompson was the day before Christmas break her sophomore year

Robin and Hauser refer to their homosexuality as "the slip of paper with a black dot" in reference to the short story "the lottery"

#sailor says something dumb #Robin Buckley #stranger things #stranger things spoilers #rebel robin #rebel robin: surviving hawkins #Steve Harrington #mr Hauser #nancy wheeler #barb holland #tammy thompson #stranger things x reader #robin buckley x reader

[gayspectacless]

Headcannons for jimmy and other scott?

OOC: i have an ask for other scott so i shall do them here to make it easy

Jimmy

-Bisexual mess

-he likes the BBC sherlock show, but now never watches it because of.. HIM.. (@dr-teddyholmes)

-He cooks fairly well, especially french food, so when ever he eats french foods from restaurants, he will literally cry if it is traditionally made

-He is a day drinker, he has a metal water bottle he secretly pours liquor into if hes having a stressful day at work

-he once bursted into tears at work because he saw a little kid coughing

-He despises wearing hats

Other Scott

-he had an anime phase in high school

-suck up in primary school (elementary for you american freaks)

-he refuses to shave his stubble off, and once was held down my jimmy to shave it, he had a baby face for 2 weeks

-speaking of his stubble, his facial hair grows really quickly

-he once forgot jimmy's number and accidentally sent a flirty message to his dad

-he has bed head hair

#jimmy #scott pilgrim #jimmy scott pilgrim #scott pilgrim vs the world #scott pilgrim the anime #scott pilgrim netflix #scott pilgrim rp #other scott #scott pilgram takes off #jimmy's asks #ooc post

[elmaxlys]

Commenting some of the French singular 3rd person neutral pronouns

iel: lovechild of il and elle. kinda sounds like you were about to say il and then switch to elle not to misgender the person going by elle (or not to out them). Pisses people off and made Brigitte, a former French teacher, forget there are a whole lot more than 2 pronouns in French lmfao. We stan. 10/10

ielle: fem presenting iel. We also stan. 10/10

ille: unsure whether it's supposed to rhyme with "il", "quille" or the latin "ille". 12/10 if pronounced like the latin ille, 9/10 if pronounced like (qu)ille (hard to say smoothly in a sentence), 10/10 if pronounced like il (very stealth as long as not written)

ol: aesthetically the best after ça. 11/10

il impersonnel: the sexiest motherfucker on earth. has the benefit of being both canon and stealth af. 10k/10 (not giving it an advantage because it's the one I use what do you mean. I remain objective at all times u_u)

on: after years in elementary school of teachers scolding us not to use it because of how imprecise and confusing it is, how much of a power move is it to reclaim it and use it in its rightful 3rd person way instead of letting it stay the bastardized 1st person? 12/10

ça: hell yeah. fucking superb you funky little pronoun. the most aesthetically pleasing. 12/10 edit: 20/10

#i'm tired don't mind me #french #languages

[retrodreamgirl]

the games that play us | steve harrington x fem!reader

part 1 | part 2

summary: you're a kindergarten teacher at Hawkins Elementary and coincidentally steve harrington's little girl is a student in your class. there's a storm brewing, you meet wren's dad a second time, and wren and steve are having a hard day. we've got pumpkins and Steve Sheet™️ and french fries and tomatoes. plus! uncle eddie has a new friend and wren has some questions [wc: 10k]

warnings: fem!reader, teacher!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, light angst, slowburn, strangers to friends to lovers, single parent!steve, mentions of teen parent!steve, steve being the biggest girl dad, uncle eddie (he's so stinkin cute!), mentions of shitty parents (steve's), probably not proofed very well. lmk if i missed anything!

⤜♡→

“Ms. Y/l/n, guess what!” Wren lifts to her toes, hands fastened against the opening of her denim jacket. She’s been especially well behaved today, not that she ever puts a single toe beyond the line of acceptable, but you’ve been waiting for her bright smile to find you with an explanation since she skipped in this morning. Now that she has, you free your hands of chalky erasers and lean a tad so your hands brush the knees of your skirt and your eyes are level.

“What’s up, Wren?” 

“My daddy’s coming to pick me up today!” 

“Oh he is!? Is that what’s got you so excited?” She nods, her endless pigtails swaying in kind. You wonder if her dad is the one who fashioned them with the bright pink ribbons and the butterfly clips flattening her flyaways on either side. “Do you guys have fun plans after school today?” 

After your formal introduction to Eddie, you brought him up in passing to one of the other teachers, Ms. Winters. She mentioned seeing the girl with him after school most days, along with an off comment about his commitment being a nice surprise. It was an odd take to you, the way Wren describes the affection she holds for her father and vice versa making it near impossible to believe he would be anything short of committed. 

“Mmm, no. Today we have to go straight home so I can do my homework and clean my room.” 

“A messy room huh?”

“I always keep it so clean, I promise!” She says it like the entirety of your relationship is dependent on the amount of clutter covering her bedroom floor. She wrings her hands, thinking a moment before explaining exactly why her room is messy, making sure you don’t think it’s entirely her fault. “I just made a bit of a mess picking my outfit last night and daddy was too tired to help me hang my clothes back so he said he’ll help me do it today.” 

“Alright, well why don’t you finish cleaning up your toys so you’re all ready when your daddy gets here.” 

She hops off, hands delicately swaying like the wind is carrying them alongside her, and you continue with the process of your own wind down. 

Despite Wren’s good behavior the rest of the class did not act accordingly. 

You’re positive it’s something in the water, a total of five students passing through timeout at various periods of the day. You’re not positive you’ll make it beyond the barrier of the school before you have to pull over and rest your head atop the steering wheel for a well deserved sob from pure exhaustion. 

Over the next thirty minutes, you send students off with bus monitors and exchange pleasantries with those whose parents are always lingering in the hall, waiting for the slow crawl of their little one collecting their bags from their cubbies and saying last goodbyes to friends for the day. Each student’s pass to the door is a weight from your chest, not to say you don’t love their bright smiles and lively personalities, but you’re still growing used to the charge of a class of twenty children barely pushing six years old.

All the while, Wren sits at her desk, the one near the window overlooking the parking lot. You don’t miss the subtle shift in her demeanor, the way her shoulders seem to slowly dip and her head eventually lay against her arms along the table. 

You’re fidgeting at your own desk, slowly sifting through the portraits you assigned for the day and dotting them all with an assortment of smiley face stickers. You hate to see the way her pupils widen a fraction every so often when a shadow shapes along the hall, then the way they deflate when she realizes it’s not her dad but another teacher leaving for the afternoon. The line is drawn completely when you see the way her lip wobbles at forty minutes past three.

“Hey, Wren, do you wanna have a snack with me?” Her eyes are glistening when she looks over at you, the sleeve of her jacket wiping at the wetness beginning to accumulate against her cheeks. “I have some yummy graham crackers with yogurt and I think I have an apple juice with your name on it!”

“Okay.” She says sighing, the breath catching in her throat with the words. You round your desk, the sharp clicks of your heels seeming too loud in the empty classroom. You’ve never noticed the loneliness of the whole thing, not until the happiest kid you know is crawling from her chair with an unusual cloud over her head. You offer your hand, and she rubs hers against her sleeve before accepting it.

“We just gotta make a quick trip to the teacher’s lounge so we’ll be back in time for your daddy.” 

“He’s late.” You slow your pace when Wren trails behind, her feet dragging against the tile when you step past the threshold of the door. Her neck is craning toward the entrance, posters painting happy faces seeming to morph into a mocking scene when the glass pane is empty of anything but the late afternoon sun blazing against bare asphalt. 

“I’m sure he’s trying to get here as fast as he can.” 

You hate to see it, the incorrigible way her lips flatten at the edges. Like she doesn’t think he’s showing up at all. It begs the question of routine or a deep seeded fear. 

You lead her to the lounge, her tiny feet pattering quickly behind you despite your decrease in tempo. It’s a pathetic little room really, with a round table and a fridge. Wren lingers by the door, eyes wide like it’s the holy grail. You pull your tub of yogurt and a juice box from the corner of the fridge and turn back to her with a kind smile. “Jackpot!” 

“Jackpot! Can I hold something, please?” 

“You take the juicebox, it’s so heavy I might fall over!” You sway on your feet, emphasis enough to have Wren giggling and her hands gently prying the small thing from you. “Thank you, sweetheart. Ready to head back?” 

She looks at you a moment, poking at her chin. “What about the crackers?” 

“Follow me.”

Her spirits have lifted a small amount by the time you’re back to the classroom, still empty save for her bright backpack slung over the back of her chair. You walk to your desk, plopping the tub of yogurt down and waving her over. She tentatively approaches you, this side of the wooden surface not often breached by anyone other than yourself. 

You crouch to the lowermost drawer, sliding it open to reveal an assortment of goodies, some that you use sparingly when the class is being in especially good spirits and some for yourself to snack on throughout the day.

“Whoa.” Wren peeks into the stash then back to you, “That’s a lot of stuff.” 

“Yeah, don’t tell anyone. It’s our little secret, okay?” You pass her the graham crackers and notice the chipping purple polish on her nails. “Does your daddy paint your nails?”

“No, my Aunt Max does it. But sometimes I pick at them and I haven’t been able to see her um…because of school.” Wren explains, scraping her nail along the edge of her thumb where a dusting of purple has scattered against it. “Next time I wanna do it like pumpkins for Halloween!”

“Oh I think that would be very cool! Let’s sit at your table and we can eat a little.” She nods and hobbles back to her chair with her juice box clutched in her fist. “Do you like your graham crackers with yogurt? It’s my favorite.” 

“I’ve never had it before. My after school snack is usually half a peanut butter and jelly with some grapes and five m&ms. I get five so I can put them in the bread and make a face, but they always fall out so I just get chocolate before dinner.” You have a feeling her plan is not as sneaky as she thinks, but the mischievous glint in her eye fills you with a warmth too wholesome to burst her bubble.

You free a cracker from the brown sleeve and dip it into the tub of yogurt to carefully hand over to Wren who watches the entire process arched over the desk with rapt attention. “Tell me what you think.” 

She takes a large bite, a corner of the cracker breaking off and falling to the desk leaving a glob of yogurt clinging to her cheek. She scrunches her nose and swallows, her hand grabbing at the piece that now rests atop the table. 

“May I please have a napkin?” 

“Yeah,” You chuckle, quick to hop up and grab the spare roll from your desk. 

“It’s really good!” She says through another mouthful, allowing you to dab at the corner of her cheek. She whines a bit when you spend too long rubbing at the skin but quickly catches herself and smiles sheepish. You continue like this for a while, Wren too occupied cautiously dipping each cracker and sliding it past her lips. 

Your eyes travel the expanse of the window, trying to spot any unfamiliar vehicles pulling in. There’s nothing but the sky darkening to an angry gray color, clouds settling for an evening storm. You think you should attempt to call her house, but you’re sure there won’t be an answer.

You must’ve missed something she said, because next thing Wren’s arm is tugging at the edge of your sleeve and her eyes are wide and fearful where she follows your previous path to the window. 

“I want my daddy.” Nothing if not a daddy’s girl, your heart breaks at the sight of her tears welling up again, certainly no hope of anyone but him soothing her broken soul. The matter is furthered when a loud crack of thunder rumbles and the first spit of water sprinkles against the glass. “Daddy!” 

She wails then and you're rounding the short distance from the table to kneel at her side, accepting her with open arms when she throws herself forward, spiraled by fear. She’s inconsolable and you almost want to start crying yourself. Her hands tighten into fists in your sweater and yours are gliding up and down her back. 

Another crack of thunder and you don’t think she can get any closer, terrified of the monsters causing a ruckus in the clouds. It’s a wonder the lights don’t go out entirely, but they begin to flicker and it’s daunting enough that even you’re on edge. 

You feel horrible, unable to produce the right fix to calm Wren enough that she’s no longer trembling in your arms. You attempt to talk her down, a coaxing filled with soft words, your hand gliding against one of her pigtails. Her breathing has lost all pretenses, uneven huffs of air all she can manage in her race to keep pace with her dampened emotions.

“Wren?” You glance toward the door, an unfamiliar man is standing half damp and out of breath in the doorway. You’re about to ask who he is, but Wren wrenches herself from you before you have the chance, her tiny body bolting across the room and into his arms. He catches her up like he’s done so a million times before, immediately comforting her with a doting patience.

“Daddy, where were you!?” She cries, muffled against his neck where he cradles her, pressing kisses to her crown. “We were waiting for so long and then it got dark and scary.” 

“I know. I’m so sorry, sweet girl. Got held up at work and then there was an accident on the way here and I couldn’t get to a phone. I’m so sorry.” His explanation is partially directed at you, still crouched and awe struck near Wren’s chair. “Thank you for staying with her. I’m really sorry I’m late.” 

“I—it’s no problem, but…who are you?” He looks up from where he was in the midst of further consoling Wren whose tears have fallen much quieter but wouldn’t halt altogether for a while yet. His brows furrow, but he stumbles forward with his hand outstretched. An admirable feat with the way Wren demands his every attention, her fingers grasping at the extension of his sleeve.

“I’m Steve Harrington, Wren’s dad.” 

“No…Wren’s dad is Eddie. I met him yesterday…” You finally stand, looking between the two of them on high alert. Neither of you miss the way Wren wiggles in Steve’s arms, a giggle followed by wet sniffling. “Oh—oh my are you two…? I’m so sorry I didn’t know, please excuse my rudeness. I don’t mean anything by it, I’m sure you guys are a great couple.” 

“No!” There’s barely a pause, just a momentary confusion followed by  a disturbance twitching amongst the muscles of Steve’s face. “We’re not—I mean Eddie and I are not a couple. He just helps me out and picks her up from school most days. I’m Wren’s dad…her only dad.” 

You’re unsure whether you should laugh or not, but the mortification of the whole thing doesn’t allow you much of a choice. Your hand flies to cover the expanse of your mouth, fighting the sputter of voice that shapes itself as a nervous giggle. Steve hitches Wren higher where she clings to his chest, the girl gone quiet since her previous giggling. 

“Wren?” Steve prompts her, leaning back so he can see her tear stained cheeks.

“Me and Uncle Eddie tricked her.” Wren admits and you imagine the feeling of panic that crawled into your chest would’ve been horribly constricting were it not for the small chuckle from Steve. 

“You know that wasn’t very nice, right? What if something happened and your teacher got confused about who to call?” Not a huge concern considering the heaps of paperwork in your own files as well as the front office, but Steve runs with it all the same and Wren’s cheeks redden from more than her previous display of emotions. “I think you need to apologize to her, please.” 

“I’m sorry. Wasn’t nice to trick you, I’ll make sure Uncle Eddie gets in trouble too.” She promises burying her head back into Steve’s chest, shoulders still steadily heaving. 

“It’s okay, Wren, I think I’m the one who should be a little embarrassed for not realizing.” You puff, glancing at your heels shifting against the pattern tile. “In any case, I’m Y/n Y/l/n. I guess it’s good to actually meet you this time.” 

“No, please, I should be the one embarrassed for taking so long to meet you in the first place. It’s just that I'm usually working and I don’t get off in time to pick her up.” In the silence that follows, the patter of rain pelts the window and thunder echoes in the distance, a warning that you’re not quite in the worst of it. 

“Well now we’ve met, and Wren was just so excited to have you pick her up!” 

“Now Wren is ready to go home.” She pouts, something you’ve never bore witness to. You think she’s just being difficult in that way kids do when they don’t feel entirely okay about what’s happening. Steve seems put out, kissing the top of her head and smoothing her jacket beneath his palms. You walk the length back to her chair, gathering her pink backpack and sliding the untouched juicebox into the side pocket.

“Thank you.” Steve accepts the bag and carefully slings it over his shoulder. “Actually I was hoping we’d be able to talk sometime? I was planning on doing it today but obviously that’s not gonna happen, so maybe we could schedule something?” 

“Oh, yeah of course. Just let me know what works best for you.” 

“I’ll give you a call later in the week to set something up. I think I need to get someone home.” Wren nods against his chest, mumbling something you don’t quite catch. “Say bye please.” 

“Bye, thank you for the snack.” It’s an effort not to coo at the way her head momentarily lifts to glance back at you, her eyes puffy under the weight of her tears but a toothy grin making its way to her cheeks. 

“You’re welcome, sweetie. See you tomorrow.”

You watch them leave, quick to gather your own belongings and brave the strengthening storm. You stop off, just a quick pit before heading home.It’s frigid outside, the constant downpour seeping into your bones by the time you step into the general store around six.

“You're late. Rough day with the kiddos?” You pile a fresh assortment of markers to the counter, always stocking up on something these days. The most recent supply shortage is a result of a habit unteachable in most kids until they manage a hint of perfectionism in their adolescent craft. The tips of the markers seem to recede further inward with each use and soon they’ll be nothing but cylinders of plastic.

“Yeah, there was a parent late for pick-up so I had to stick around a little longer.”

“Did you tell them you’re not a daycare service?” Joyce pops a hard candy into her mouth, offering one across the counter. You take the wrapped good between your fingers, the ghost of a smile pinching your muscles. 

“No, he was really nice and apologized a million times. Plus, his daughter is really sweet so I didn’t mind.”

“His daughter’s sweet, huh?” Her tone holds a teasing lilt, one you ignore in favor of popping the candy past your lips. Strawberry.

“How long are you in for? It’s getting pretty ugly out there.” 

“Yeah, I’ll probably start closing up behind you so I can get home to Will.” She passes your bag over the counter, heading to the door to flip the ‘closed’ sign. “You should come over for dinner in a couple of weeks! I meant to invite you the other day, but it completely slipped my mind.” 

“Oh, are you having people over? A couple of weeks is a lot of notice.”

“Just a few, something casual that I like to do from time to time. Just some of Will’s friends and some of mine, which includes you now.” You beam, twirling your bag between your fingers in an attempt not to seem too eager at the small admission. You haven’t had much time to navigate Hawkins before the start of the school year and no one seemed keen on letting you forget your lack of camaraderie. 

“That would be really great, thank you. Should I bring anything?” 

“If you want. But those kids will eat anything so don’t think too hard about it.” 

“Great! I should get going, but I’ll probably see you in a few days. The kids have started rebelling against me by breaking all the crayons into halves.” 

“Yikes.”

“I guess I should just be glad they’re sharing, right?”

~*~

“Wren, please eat your dinner.”

She’s been like this since they got home, a refusal to cooperate with Steve’s attempts at getting her to do anything. He’s not upset with her, more annoyed at the entirety of the situation; at Keith for keeping him longer than necessary and at the jackass who rear ended the poor old woman on his drive to school. 

She’s barely spoken a word to him since he buckled her into her booster seat and placed a kiss to her cheek with another apology for being so late. He thinks it a feat she wandered over to the table at all, now sitting stock straight and stubborn as ever.

The storm still rages outside, pelting the window with ferocity. Steve can tell Wren isn’t unafraid, but too upset with him to voice her concerns about it. He knows it’s at least part of her sour mood, but it doesn’t feel whole.

“Don’t want it.” She pouts, Floppy tucked beneath her arm and her fingers jammed between her lips. She’s red in the cheeks, has been since he found her crying in your arms, and he thinks she might be warm from all her fussing. He made a can of soup, chicken noodle because she’s going through a phase and has decided tomato looks too much like vomit.

“Come on, lovebug, just a little before it gets cold.” 

He pilots the spoon to her lips and she seals them tight, shaking her head and shoving it away. The spoon skitters along the table, golden liquid splashing everywhere. 

“No!”

It’s a long meditated practice in patience and the lingering resentment from his own childhood that keeps him from losing it just then. He stands from the chair at her side and silently grabs the spoon from the center of the table to toss into the full bowl. He dabs at the spilled broth with a napkin, slowly to give him more time to collect the heavy emotion coiling in his chest. 

“Wren, go to your room.” He thinks she must be able to feel the tension rolling off of him in waves. He can see her climbing from her chair without a word to trudge down the hall, her heavy steps sinking into the carpet. He winces when she slams the door then he’s collapsing at the table shielding his face in his hands.

He’s at a loss. He feels frustrated and pathetic. His kid is just being a kid, throwing a tantrum. He should be able to handle it, right? 

He thinks it would be easier if it was something she’d ever done before, but she hasn’t. Sure she’s pouted over small things like the wrong color popsicle or having to keep her beloved bunny home when she goes to school, but those things are kissed away as easily as they popped into her beautiful little brain. Never has she been so forthright in her ire that she outright refuses to listen.

This time he doesn’t even really know the problem, so how’s he supposed to fix it?

He leaves her for a while, both of them needing the situation to cool a bit before he attempts to neutralize it. The apartment is silent save for the sound of him cleaning the dishes from dinner, tucking the uneaten soup into a container for later. He glances at the clock, the time nearing eight-thirty when he decides he’s spent enough time stewing.

When he enters her room, the lights are on and he can see her in a lump beneath her comforter. 

“Wren.” She shifts beneath the blankets, alerting him she’s not asleep, but doesn’t respond as anything other than a quiet whimper. “Can we talk please, lovebug? I’m not mad, I just wanna know what’s wrong.” 

He settles beside her, gently tugging the blanket back expecting to find her head resting against the pillow. Instead her feet poke out of the top, his hand playfully caressing her heels and she giggles kicking at him. 

“Daddy!” She squeals when he pulls her free from the mass of blankets to settle in his lap. She’s changed, a pair of bright blue pajamas in place of her denim. 

“There’s my Wren.”  He smiles and she curls further into him. “Okay, bug, wanna tell me what’s goin on? Is it because I was late?” 

She crawls out of his lap to settle beneath her blankets and lifts the edge, a silent invitation he gladly accepts. He begins pulling the ribbons from her hair, something she couldn’t always manage on her own. He frees the loose strands from the clips secured at her scalp and plops them on her nightstand. She hums when his hands run through her hair, loosening it around her shoulders. 

“Today was a hard day, but I need you to talk to me. I can’t make it better if I don’t know what’s wrong.” He waits another moment for her to speak, knowing sometimes she chews on words a little longer because she wants to be understood.

“I thought you weren’t coming and I was so scared.” It’s barely a whisper, hands grabbing at one of Steve’s where it holds her against him. Both of her hands fit into the span of his palm and it reminds him that though her maturity is great she’s still barely past the point of sleeping through the night. Just a little girl more afraid of the world than even he realizes. 

“I’m sorry I scared you, but I need you to understand that I will always come for you, Wren. No matter what.” 

“But what if you don’t? What if you never come just like mama.” His heart breaks entirely too suddenly, the fractured pieces seeping with sorrow for his daughter’s bleak admission. 

It’s not often she asks about her mom, always content with things the way they are, just the two of them. Steve explained things as best he could without damning her with the knowledge that it was without a heavy heart that her mother handed her over and ditched Hawkins for a “better future”. One without teen pregnancy in the rearview. 

He figured it wasn’t something he’d have to address again until she was much older, and certainly not because she was afraid he would leave her behind.

“Is that what this is about? You’ve been thinking about your mom?” 

“Everyone’s always talking about their moms at school and it just made me think about mine. I don’t know her at all, not even a picture.” She sighs, head lolling to one side as the day begins to catch up to her. “I look in the mirror sometimes to see, but everyone says I look just like you.” 

“I’m sorry, sweet girl, I wish things could be different.” He loves them the way they are, but he would never deny her the opportunity to have a mother. 

“Do you think she’ll ever come to see me?” 

“I don’t know, bug, I’m sorry.” 

Wren pauses for a beat, like she’s thinking about exactly how it makes her feel. 

“It’s okay, daddy, I love you most.” She presses a kiss to his cheek, sloppy and full of affection. Just enough to make him smile through this painful moment of parenting. “Just don’t ever leave me.” 

“I’ve got you, don’t you worry about that.” He holds her like that for a while, listening to her breathing as it evens out, pressed against him with her rabbit beneath her arm. He slowly untangles himself and slides the length of the mattress, pressing a kiss to her head.

“Daddy?” Her sleep filled voice stops him in his tracks. 

“Yeah?”

“Do I look like her…just a little?” 

He wants to tell her that she looks like his little girl, the only thing that matters to him in the world, but he knows it's not what she needs right now. 

“Of course you do.” She smiles sleepily and he places another soft kiss on her forehead. “Goodnight, sweet girl.” 

“Goodnight, daddy.” 

~*~

“Okay, Wren, you can pick one.” Steve stands at attention, one hand slipping from his pocket to secure the hat over Wren’s ears before she can jet off between the rows of pumpkins. He dots kisses on her nose, her tongue darting out to tease his chin much to her own amusement. “Just make sure it’s a good one, I don’t want one that’s molding after a few days like last time.” 

“Daddy, that wasn’t my fault.” She’s adamant, has been ever since the incident first occurred. Now she’s taken to shifting on her feet with her hands on her hips, far too much like Steve if anyone were to judge. “You’re the one who put it right by the window so its insides got cooked by the sun!” 

“I wasn’t blaming you, I was just saying!” 

It was a promise he made the morning after the talk. To come out to one of the local farms and let Wren pick a pumpkin out this weekend. She’s been on her best behavior and he still feels guilt bleeding into his gut after what happened. 

Either way it’s tradition, letting her pick a pumpkin so they can gut it and carve it into a face. Wren is mostly into the sport of the whole thing, running up and down the rows of the patch dead set on finding the perfect pumpkin. She’s usually too grossed out by the mess of scooping the stringy organs of the fall fruit and Steve is certainly not comfortable with her wielding a carving knife, but he always lets her draw the face, silently questioning her ability to get the marker everywhere.

She also loves roasting the seeds and Steve usually picks a second pumpkin because Joyce will make pie or a pumpkin roll.

Wren races off, her converse kicking up the dried dirt and leaves beneath her feet. Steve watches her closely, wincing when she nearly trips over a root. Never a dull moment. 

“Hey…you’re Wren’s dad, right?” The tone is teasing, and Steve glances to find you, Wren’s teacher with an assortment of baby pumpkins in a crate tucked in your arms. 

You spotted him in the thin crowd after purchasing the barrage of seasonal squash and debated for the better part of five minutes whether it would be odd to amble over. Curiosity got the better and here you stand in the beholden of Steve Harrington with what you would describe as a look of adorable confusion dotting the lines of his cheeks.

“Hi, yeah, nice to see you again, Ms…”

“Y/n is fine.” 

“Y/n. Are you hunting for class pumpkins?” He gently coaxes the box from your arms, chuckling at the way your shoulders sag without the extra weight. He glances toward Wren, making sure she’s not too far gone and finds her bent over chatting animatedly with a plump gourd.

“Yeah, I thought it would be fun to have a little pumpkin decorating contest. Though, glitter and paint…I might not have as much fun as them.” He’s immediately smitten with your smile, the way it takes over the entirety of your face and pushes at the edges of your eyes. “What about you? Gonna see if you can out decorate Wren? I’ve got bad news for you because as her teacher I can confirm that you’re gonna lose.” 

“Oh I have no doubt. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve fished one of her drawings out of my pocket at work.” He sounds exasperated but the entirety of his fondness is concentrated in the raised crinkles of his eyes. 

“That’s so sweet.” 

“Not so sweet when you pass it to your boss instead of the list of new releases—”

“Aw, he didn’t like it?” Your hand covers the crease in your cheek, feigned surprise to counter Steve’s lopsided grimace.

“Told me to stop messing around on the job.” 

“Well, I think it’s totally worth it. You’ve got a pretty great kid.” It feels odd, the umbrella of formality shading your exchange. Steve’s not sure what it is, but as much as he wants to he feels awkward suggesting a topic more casual than a teacher praising her pupil, unsure if it would be a toe too far over the line. “You never called by the way!” 

“Huh?” He’s taken out of his thoughts for a moment, the words something he hasn’t heard someone say to him with such curiosity since high school. It’s ridiculously reminiscent and he has to remind himself that he’s so far removed from that time in his life that it wouldn’t make any sense to think of it now.

“About that meeting you wanted to set up. I only mention it because you seemed a little concerned…” 

“Oh, yeah. Maybe we could do it sometime this week? I can plan a half day and we can talk when I come to pick Wren up…I promise I’ll be on time.” 

“Yeah, that sounds fine. How is Wren after the other day? She was pretty shaken up.” Your concern warms him beneath the cool of autumn, the sight of Wren happier than ever zig-zagging between pumpkins not enough to sway you from the certainty of her well-being. 

He wonders if his sudden fondness for you is strange. Hopefully not when you’ve shown such an astounding interest in his daughter. He hasn’t missed the extra encouragement on her papers, little notes left in the margins about the anecdotes Wren shares with you in class. 

He’s choosing to ignore the flutter of attraction that washed over him when he saw you standing there with pumpkins in your arms. It’s simple but the way you’re wearing your cute orange sweater and flared jeans is like nothing he’s seen before. Not the clothes really, but the way you wear them with such nonchalance, picking at pumpkin shaded fuzz like you don’t realize you’re more than a momentary guide for the youth of Hawkins. 

“She’s better, thank you for asking.” 

“Daddy!” Just in time Wren sprints over, tugging on the fabric of his jeans with urgency. He thinks she might have to use the restroom with the way she balances on the toes of her converse, eyes larger than usual. “Daddy, come on we have to get this one before someone takes it! What’s in your hands? You can’t carry our pumpkin with that thing in the way.” 

“I’m sorry, your dad was just giving me a hand.” Wren spots you then, hanging from Steve’s leg like she’ll fly away if she eases up. 

“Oh…hi. Did you hear about the pumpkins too?” She glances the way she came, still on edge about the perfect pumpkin escaping her grasp. “My daddy and I are gonna decorate one. I want it to look like Uncle Eddie.” 

She does the horns again and Steve swears he’s gonna kick Eddie’s ass. 

“That sounds like fun! I don’t wanna keep you from your pumpkin, but you can tell me all about it on Monday. Maybe even take a picture so we can hang it in the classroom.” 

Wren brightens at that, half because you’ve remembered her camera and half at the prospect of her hellfire pumpkin wreaking havoc on her classmates. You look back at Steve, arms extended for the lofty crate and he hesitates for a moment. He’s not unnoticed by Wren who glances between her teacher and her dad, catching the lack of space between them. 

“You should come have lunch with us! We’re going to Benny’s and he has the yummiest french fries. Don’t you like french fries?” She inquires with her wide eyes, forgetting altogether about the perfect pumpkin, Steve notes. 

“Come on, Wren, everyone loves french fries.” You placate her, though not without glancing at Steve, bashful under his attentive gaze. He doesn’t step in, more than happy to have you join but no intention to pressure you more than Wren already has. He knows it may seem mean spirited, but he’s not willing to embarrass himself by making it clear he’s not ready to see you go, whatever the reason may be. “You know, I’d love to, but I should probably get home.” 

“Noooo!” Wren drags it out, leaving a wrinkle where she’d been gripping Steve’s pants. He shakes the leg and watches horrified when Wren clears the gap between the two of you and yanks the edge of your sweater. “You have to come! It’ll be perfect!” 

“Wren.” He hopes the hard tone isn’t something he’ll have to use more often, but it does the trick. Wren takes a step back, the grace of embarrassment sticking to her cheeks in a rose blush. “Sorry, she just gets a little excited sometimes. But you’re more than welcome to join us if you want.” 

“I don’t wanna impose, looks like you two are having a cute day together.” 

“It’s not imposing, we’re inviting you.” Steve tuts, freeing his hand long enough to swipe at a strand clinging to his forehead. He can see you thinking it over, which means that you do want to come, you just aren’t sure it’s a good idea. “Benny does have the best fries.” 

“Yeah, and you look cute today too! It’ll be a cute day with the three of us!” 

“Well…I am pretty hungry. Plus, I think I have to be the judge of those fries.” 

“Yay!” Wren dances in place, reaching for Steve’s occupied hands. “Daddy, we have to go get our pumpkin. I want chicken tendies.” 

“Ok, why don’t you go on over and make sure no one takes it. I’ll be there in a second.” He nods in the direction she came from, watching her skip back between the rows with nothing more than a breathless affirmation. 

“Are you sure you don’t mind me tagging along? I know it can be hard to say ‘no’ sometimes.” 

“Positive. Wren seems to like you a lot and I'd like to get to know you better myself.”

“I’d like to get to know you too. I mean, it’s always good to know what kinds of parents I’m working with.” He’s cheeky now, element restored upon realization that you’re just as nervous as he is. 

“If you like to get to know all your parents…then you were just playing hard to get?” You blanche, placing your hands on the edge of your crate of pumpkins. You lose your balance but Steve tugs the weight toward him to help you steady. 

You’re transfixed following your dissipation of momentary panic. If you thought Eddie was pretty you aren’t quite comfortable with the way your chest skips a beat when you really look at Steve. 

There’s something of a conventional attraction to him, all hazel eyes and big hair, styled just perfectly to steal your attention away from the deep blue fleece jacket obscuring the t-shirt you imagine hugging his arms. His smile pushes into dimples, precious divots in the plains of his complexion, curling with his lips when he speaks. 

There are also the perfect imperfections like moles dotting his skin and the freckles lining his nose from the kiss of summer still lingering with his fading tan. The way his nose stands out amongst the symmetry of his features, all but forcing you to wonder what it would feel like if you kissed him and felt the flush of it against your skin.

“As if any of them would offer.” 

“Hm, their loss.” 

“Strong words for someone who doesn’t know me all that well. Let me take those! I think I’ve kept you from your pumpkins long enough.” Both of you realize the awkward dance you’re fallen victim to. Fingers kissing in the holes of the crate in effect of your attempt to fully unmarry Steve from it. “Um…thanks for the break. Should I meet you guys at Benny's? I don’t want these to get all gross in the car, so I wanna drop em’ off.” 

“We could pick you up.” Steve takes a leap, unclear of his intentions but too late to take it back. He can hear a distant singing, Wren’s attempts to coax him in her direction and it forces him further. “I mean, it’s no trouble. Would be easier if we just grabbed you on the way because I never know how long she’s gonna take with these things.” 

“I’m well aware.” You laugh and he knows you really mean it. It’s a refreshing feeling, someone who actually understands him rather than blank stares and constant confusion when he explains a concept foreign to anyone without a mini version of themselves plodding two steps behind them at all times. You pull a pad from the tote hanging on your shoulder and an ink pen just behind it; scribbling for a moment you tear the flesh of the page slipping it between Steve’s fingers. “Take your time, I’m happy to wait until she has the perfect pumpkin.”

“Strong words.” 

“I mean every one of them.” 

~*~ 

As it turns, the perfect pumpkin took longer than you initially anticipated. Not that you mind, it gave you enough time to make sure all your pumpkins were clean and stored somewhere suitable until you brought them in Monday morning. You almost want to change, the lingering layer of dirt a ghost against your skin, but it feels too formal and you don’t want Steve to think anything of it. 

You opt to thoroughly wash your hands and spritze a fresh layer of perfume, in the middle of the second step when there’s a knock at the door. You fumble the bottle, panicking when it crashes into the porcelain sink just barely catching between your thumb and pointer. Your recovery is short lived when you hear the front door balancing on its hinges. 

“Hello! We’re here for Ms. Y/l/n.” Wren sings and you can already picture your aunt bending to greet her with the biggest smile, glancing toward Steve filled with a hopeful curiosity.

You hurry into the hall, watching Steve’s shoulders loosen when he spots you speeding toward them. Your aunt is in fact folded in half, her hands on her knees while she talks to Wren. You hope she’s not wearing her usual perfume, the one that makes her smell more like a burnt cookie than the fresh one touted on the label.

“Well hi there! I don’t think we’ve met before.” You lock eyes with Steve, hoping the funny look on your face is explanation enough. 

“I’m Wren Harrington! I’m five years old and I want chicken tenders.” Wren slouches backward into Steve’s legs, eyes brightening like she’s just realized he’s there. “This is my daddy!”

“Steve, nice to meet you.” You bound over, placing your hand on the curve of your aunt’s shoulders, drawing her attention away from your current company. You see the glint in her eye before she can speak, lengthening your speech for the occasion. 

“I’ve told you about Wren before! She’s the one who drew me that lovely picture with all the flowers.” You draw the comparison because it was ages spent listening to her talk about how cute it was everytime she opened the fridge. You agree, but the gasp of shock with nearly every gallon of iced tea has grown to an increasing redundancy so you’re positive she hasn’t forgotten it.

“You saw my picture?” It’s like it’s been hung in a gallery the way Wren leaps forward, her eyes finding pace around the room like it’s here and she just hasn’t found it yet. You can guess her own house must be filled with her in small doses, plastered to the fridge and reflected in frames. It doesn’t take a degree to see that Steve is just as fond of Wren as she is of him, his eyes lingering on her excitement. 

“I sure did, made your favorite teacher hang it right on the fridge for everyone to see!” 

“Can I see?!” Wren glances at Steve, a silent permission to venture further into the unfamiliar home when your aunt extends her hand. 

“Go on.” He nods, patting her back to gently thrust her forward. He gives you his whole attention then, brow raised against his hairline and a kind smile cresting his lips. “The fridge huh?” 

“You should’ve just honked, it would’ve saved you the trouble.” 

“I don’t mind. Wren can find a friend in just about anyone.” You can hear the excited chatter coming from the kitchen, no doubt Wren’s willingness to guide her audience through the entirety of her creation from the color crayons to the touch of glitter you recollect painting the sky. There’s an awkward lull standing here with Steve, one you attempt to remedy.

“So, what is it that you do exactly? You’ve mentioned work keeps you occupied.” 

“Oh.” Steve shifts awkwardly, cheeks tinged a crimson shade. You worry you’ve stepped too far, still unversed in the politics of small town suburbia. 

“I’m sorry, that was rude. Forget I asked.” Steve knuckles your shoulder, a small smile, a consolation.

“No, it’s…I don’t mind. Let’s just say I’m no professional or anything.”

“You’ve got time, I promise. No judgment here.”  

“I’ve been working at Family Video since I graduated basically. Not that I would’ve gotten in, but with Wren college was near impossible.” You don’t miss the derogation coating the words. It pains you to think he blames his lack of what he deems professionalism on some preconceived notion of success not within his reach. “I’m not really sure what to do now, so it puts food on the table, ya know?” 

“Nothing wrong with not knowing. Especially when you and Wren are both so young.” You shrug, your own attempt at alleviating the misplaced self hate. “I mean, maybe she can help you find what you wanna do. Kids tend to be the best judge of character.” 

“You’re the best!” Wren runs back into the room, bulldozing right into your knees and burrowing into your sweater. “Thank you for hanging my picture.” 

“See?” You nudge Steve, assuaging his uncertainty about Wren’s sudden affection. “Of course I hung it, no one’s ever drawn me anything before. I love it!” 

“Well, I can draw you pictures all the time. Don’t even worry about it!” Wren’s exuberance is palpable, the whole of the room sprinkled with the fondness of her unbridled youth. “Can we go now? I’m hungry.”

“You all should get going, don’t let me keep you. I’ve got a coffee date with Gretchen anyhow.” She all but shoves the lot of you toward the front door, Wren already fastened around the hand your aunt hasn’t shoved your purse into. “Have fun! It was nice meeting you two, we’ll have dinner sometime.” 

It’s a process getting Wren into her booster, her body flailing all over the place like her limbs are sentient in their own right. It’s the excitement of the whole thing and Steve is out of breath but still calm when he settles in the driver's seat. You manage to school your amusement, but he catches a glimpse of it all the same. 

“Something funny?” 

“Nope, we're all good. Right, Wren?” 

“All good!” She parrots, a small blanket tucked across her chest. It’s cute, a soft pink color patterned with white plaid. “Your aunt is very nice but she smells like fire and chocolate. I thought she was cooking badly, but she said she wasn’t cooking anything.”

“Wren, that's not very nice.” Steve admonishes, tinkering with the dial on the radio. 

“No it’s okay, she’s right. It’s her new perfume, Wren. I haven’t had the heart to tell her it doesn’t smell as good as she thinks.” Your head lolls over, eyes glancing toward the backseat where Wren is picking at her nails. “Hey, you got the pumpkins!” 

She looks at you, then flashes her hand forward to point at them. “I got candy corn too! I think they taste gross, but Max said it just looks pretty.” 

“They do, they look so pretty. I’m jealous.” 

“I also got a ghost…his name is Steve Sheet.” She wags her pointer finger, painted black with an open mouthed ghost staring back. 

“Any relation?” You momentarily lock eyes with the human Steve as he fastens his arm around your seat and pushes to reverse.

“I’m not sayin a word.” 

“Last Halloween I asked daddy to dress up with me and he wore a sheet on his head. I asked if he was a ghost and he said he was Steve Sheet.” Wren fills in giggling. “Isn’t that just so silly?” 

“The silliest. But I bet Steve Sheet was very cute.” 

“I was a very handsome sheet, thank you. Wren, hand please.” You look back in time to see her pulling her fingers from her lips and wiping them on her bottoms. She mumbles something about how he always sees her, very inconvenienced by the whole thing. 

There’s a contented silence for the remainder of the ride to Benny’s save for Wren’s frequent mumbling to herself in the backseat. Steve seems unbothered, like she does it often. When you take a moment to listen long enough you realize she’s practicing reading the signs as they flash. You’ve been working on helping her with pronunciation in class and she’s still having trouble but your heart is full at how easily she can make out the words even if they don’t sound entirely correct.

You think you could stay like this. A fleeting thought, but a thought you know is genuine.

When you’re finally sliding into a table at Benny’s Burgers Wren is a bit stumped. You and Steve take opposite sides of the table and the girl stands at the head like you’ve given her an impossible choice.

“Where should I sit?” Hands on her hips, lips pouting toward the two as if you should’ve all sat on one side. 

“You should sit with me because I’m your favorite teacher in the world, right?” You slide the chair out, patting the lightly cushioned seat with a candy grin. Wren slowly nods her head, drifting over.

“Now wait just a second!” Steve cuts him, feigned offense lining his lips. He frees the chair beside him from beneath the table, dotting his chin with his pointer finger in much thought. “I think that as the best daddy in the world, your words Miss Harrington not mine, you should come and sit next to me.” 

“That’s a good point, I did say that. Benny, what do I do?” The man himself stations at the head of the table, a kind smile when Wren addresses him with his grease stained henley and a loose apron lining his waist. “We have to talk about getting a circle table. At school we have circle tables and I can sit next to both of my friends!”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He chuckles, plopping a thin coloring book and a box of crayons down and sliding one of the extra chairs so it’s situated between yourself and Steve. “For now, how about this?” 

“Perfect! And you remembered my coloring book? You’re the best!” Wren climbs into the seat, flipping the book open to a half colored kitten with rainbow stripes and exaggerated whiskers. “Benny this is Ms. Y/l/n, she’s my teacher and she’s never had your french fries before.” 

“Well she better be new in town.” He huffs, mocking some fickle offense at the mere thought. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“You too, and call me Y/n. I’m pretty eager to try the best fries ever.” 

“Well I’ll get started on em right away if you all know what you want? Well…I know what these two regs want.” He nods toward Steve and Wren, the former seeming caught at the revelation that they come here far more than maybe they should. “What can I get you?” 

“I’ll take a cheeseburger, no tomato please, with fries and a coke.” Benny nods, tapping his pen against the pad of paper and trudging back to the kitchen.

“Wren, you can call me by my first name when we’re not in school, I promise I don’t mind.” You pat her free hand, the one not hard at work coloring the kitten a lovely shade of amethyst. She looks up, lips opening and closing silently. Practicing. 

“First name?” She asks, like it’s a trick. 

“Uh huh! It feels so weird to be Ms anything outside of school. Makes me feel old.” Wren giggles but goes back to her coloring, mumbling a chord in which she just repeats your name to herself over and over. You find Steve then, pulling at the plastic corner of one of the menus.

“How long have you been in town?” He attempts to lead the conversation, still not exactly sure where to take you. He hopes you don’t bring him to the realization that you’ve really always been in town, perhaps one of those people he was always too self involved to notice. 

It seems unlikely, the whole of your existence feeling like something he wouldn’t have been able to ignore in school. Though perhaps you’d be the one doing the ignoring, far too out of his league when he really thinks of it. 

“Oh, not long. I only got in officially about a week before school started. I’m still getting used to it all really. The small town vibe.”

“You didn’t live here before?” Wren interrupts, moved from the kitten to the tight ball of yarn with a soft orange crayon. 

“Nope. I moved here to work after school. Hawkins seemed like a good place to get my feet wet after student teaching in the city.” 

“Well I’m glad you’re here!” Benny cuts in again then, passing drinks around, a sippy cup filled with juice for Wren, like it’s been waiting for her return. “The other teacher seemed nice, but I heard she always gave the class raisins for snack.” 

“I’m glad I’m here too.” You scrunch your nose, sipping from your coke and nearly coughing from the sudden carbonation building in your chest. “It’s nice, but it’s definitely daunting. Everyone already seems to know each other so I’m not really sure where I fit.”

“Trust me, it’s not just because you’re new. People here are unwelcoming at the best of times even if they’re all smiles. But now you’ve got Wren and I to show you the ropes.” Steve grabs a hold of Wren’s sippy cup, double checking Benny didn’t sneak any soda, and slips it closer to the center of the table so Wren’s arm isn’t nearly nudging it to the floor. 

You’re amiable until your food arrives, Steve inquiring about your time in school, clearly feeling some sense of longing though you’re not sure what for exactly. It’s hard to grasp his feelings on the whole thing and you’re too uninitiated to ask outright. 

You lightly tread when asking him about his own experiences. He mostly talks about Wren in her younger years— ”Daddy it was always Floppy!” —and the gaggle of children that have become all but his family. He glosses over the ones long gone and nestles himself in the affection of the ones gone but soon to return. By the time Benny is placing steaming plates in front of your intimate trio you feel like you’d do anything to know more about Steve Harrington. So open yet admiringly elusive.

You decide rather quickly that Benny’s fries are some of the best you’ve ever had and Wren seems satisfied at your admission. She doesn’t talk much through her eating, but Steve seems worried about the way she’s shoveling it down. 

“Lovebug, please slow down before you choke. I promise it’s not going anywhere. Have a drink of juice.” 

“But daddy, I’m hungryyyy!” She drags the words like she’s not already eating, like taking even a moment from the crispy chicken will be her end all. Steve ignores the drama, wetting his thumb and dragging it along a dollop of ketchup at the corner of her lips. 

“Wren, please.” Is all he says, sucking his finger clean and taking a hearty bite of his burger. She listens, taking a lengthy sip of juice but immediately shoving another tender into her cheeks. Steve looks like he’s prepared to scold her again but her brows lift to the sky and she bounces in her seat.

“Uncle Eddie!” Wren exclaims through her mouthful of chicken. She halfheartedly chews, suddenly annoyed with the obstruction of speech. Even through the mumbled clamor Eddie is attuned to her presence right away. He struts over, the metal looped through his jeans clanking beneath the slap of his converse against the checkerboard tile. He’s not alone though. “Uncle Eddie, who is that lady?” 

She points to the girl who’d followed after him, standing a ways away like she wasn’t sure if she was welcome. If it were up to Wren she certainly wouldn’t be. 

“Hey, little bird, how’s my favorite girl?” Wren wastes no time making it abundantly clear she is not pleased that anyone else could take up Eddie’s time. She hums, settling back into her seat and chugging her juice. 

“Wren slow down, please.” Steve’s speech is automatic, you can tell it’s a common occurrence when Eddie doesn’t flinch.Steve isn’t nearly as coy about his line of questioning as Wren, peeking over Eddie’s shoulder but having half a mind to lower his voice so as not to scare her off. “You on a date?” 

“Something like that.” He waves it off, but brightens when his gaze lands on you, somewhat embarrassed to see Eddie after all but assuming he was Wren’s dad. “Seems I’m not the only one. What’s up, teach?” 

“Hey, Uncle Eddie. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Yeah I heard I was in trouble. I haven’t had detention since high school, but I have a feeling you’d make it a lot more fun.” He teases and Steve kicks his leg where rests at the base of Wren’s chair. 

“Uncle Eddie, sit with us!” Wren tugs at the lining of his jacket, whining a tad. It’s obvious it’s Eddie’s kryptonite, the way he kneels beside her and places a gentle kiss against her cheek indicative of how much it pains him to say ‘no’.

“I’m sorry, sweetness, but I’m here with my friend.” 

“Who is she? I don’t know her.” 

“No, you don’t. She’s just a friend, Wrennie, you don’t have to be jealous.” Eddie coos, pushing his nose against Wren’s to which she places her hands on his cheeks, pulling back to press her own kiss against his soft skin. 

“Daddy said date. A date is for love.”

“Sometimes a date can just be for fun or to get to know someone.” Eddie corrects, you and Steve watching him attempt to talk himself out of her bad graces. 

“You don’t need to get to know someone, you have me.”

“And you’re my favorite girl in the whole world, but I have to have someone to keep me occupied when your dad is hogging you.” Steve scoffs, hogging his own daughter, a highly amusing feat he seems to have reached. “I’ll come see you tomorrow. You can have me the whole day.” 

“Promise?” She extenders her pinky, her other hand curling its way around a piece of Eddie’s hair and gently yanking it at the roots. 

“I promise, super duper swear.” He connects their pinkies and tucks them against his lips. When he releases her she looks at his companion once more, moved to a table in the corner, where she periodically glances over like Eddie might have a seat or turn around and leave without her. She seems content enough and shoves a fry into her mouth, chewing animatedly. “Speaking of dates, this is a cute one you guys are on.” 

“It’s not a date Eddie, it’s a cute day!” Wren corrects, rubbing her salty fingers on her shirt before Steve can catch her with a napkin. There are already stains where she’d clearly already gotten away with it a number of times. “Daddy, are you okay? Why are you so red?” 

Despite your own heat, you look at Steve but not long enough for him to feel more embarrassed than he does. Eddie smiles, clapping Steve on the shoulder triumphantly. 

“I’m not, it’s just warm in here.” Steve mutters, avoiding you altogether.

“You look like a tomato.” She counters, dipping her fry in ketchup and holding it up to his face before shoving it at Eddie who bites it out of her hand. 

“No, I think it’s more like a heart. Right, Wren?” 

“Yeah a heart.” 

“Eddie, I think your friend is waiting for you.” You pipe up, pointing to the girl in the corner who is suddenly simpering. You don’t blame her irritation, being left alone while her date shoots the shit with people he won’t even introduce her to. Not that it would go particularly well. You’ve seen kids at their most jealous and suddenly Wren is no exception. 

“Okay, I goin. But don’t have too much fun without me, we still have to schedule that detention!” 

“Yeah, because Uncle Eddie has been bad!” Wren contributes, seeming to forget her role as a silent accomplice in the whole thing. 

“So bad!” Eddie agrees, sending Steve a wink over his shoulder. “I can’t wait to be punished.” 

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #stranger things imagine #steve harrington fic #singledad!steve harrington #singledad!steve x teacher!reader #singledad!steve harrington x reader

[crosscalipso]

South Park Character Headcanons (Tweek + Craig)

Tell me if you want me to do more of these

Craig ★

• Transgender FTM (He/Him and It/Its Pronouns)

• Autistic

• Literally so gay, like, man has never liked a woman

• Peruvian + White, was darker as a kid but his skin got pale as a teen since he didn’t go outside much anymore

• Ayesha Erotica fan

• He’s chubby!!!

• In elementary school he’s the tallest boy, and second tallest kid overall behind Bebe, but once they hit high-school he’s mid-way between tall and short. Tweek is taller than him.

• Other than Guinea Pigs he really likes cats!

• Chronic pains in his back, hips and legs

• Wants to be an astronaut, ends up being a veterinarian

• Can’t draw to save his life, still draws silly pictures for Tweek

• Calls Tweek the dorkiest of pet-names like “Honey, Cupcake, Pookie” etc

• Love language is Physicalness and gift-giving

• Adopted

• Was four when he was adopted by Laura and Thomas

• Thomas gave him his hat when he first came home, and now he never takes it off

• Came out as trans at 7, started his social transition soon after

• Gets top surgery in his late 20’s

• Decides to not get bottom surgery

• had braces his entire childhood all the way till he was 20, his parents didn’t have the money to get them removed so he suffered, had to get them again at 25 but they still wouldn’t straighten.

• Crooked teeth for life

• tooth gap!!!

• Doesn’t smoke like the fanart shows, this kid would vape

• An utter dork, literally obsessed with Space his whole life

• Hyperfixations switch every 2-3 years

• Has a crooked nose, he broke it during the fight he had with Tweek when they were kids

• Can play the piano a little bit, he learned from Tweek

• Has a flat affect

• Picks up in Tweek’s vocalizations and makes them himself sometimes, not noticing where he got it from

• twitches his nose like a bunny

Tweek ★

• Gender-fluid (He/They/It pronouns)

• Identifies as Queer, has only ever had feelings for Craig

• White

• Autistic

• Pulls at his hair so much that he starts developing bald spots in middle school, Craig buys him a hat that looks like his own for him to wear when stressed

• Can’t button his shirt well due to shaky hands and disoriented vision, so Craig does it for him their entire lives

• Picks at his skin, eyelashes, eyebrows and finger nails, lots of scars and scratches

• Gets clean of his meth addiction at 19 after going to rehab as soon as highschool lets out

• Ends up owning a bakery

• Despite being clean he still lets out grunts and vocalizations at random times

• can play the piano exceptionally well

• Love language is words of affirmation and gift-giving

• Can speak English, Dutch, German and French

• Bakes things and does chores for Craig all the time, usually when he’s asleep and can’t protest

• Chubby!!! He gains weight after being clean and is very happy with his build

• Takes up boxing in middle school, helps get frustration out

• Feels terrible for breaking Craig’s nose, but finds the after affects cute nevertheless

• Wakes Craig up by peppering his face in kisses, Craig doesn’t oppose

• Uses “Dude, Man, bro” on Craig until they’re engaged, then he uses cuter nicknames like “Honey, Baby and Puppy”

• Had bad baby fever from 22 and onward, constantly wanting to have kids with Craig

• Has a collection of glued together Lego sets from his childhood, he keeps them down in the basement on a wooden table he built for them

• “Death metal soothes me to sleep!”

• one if his vocalizations is whistling and then making a *pop!* noise with his mouth

• Lost one of his incisors during his fight with Craig, got a fake one pretty quick, he wore the actual tooth on a necklace for a while

• They still have that tooth somewhere in their house

Silly Quotes I think they’d say

Craig : “The hat stays on during sex.”

———

Tweek : “Dude can I turn on some white noise, it helps me sleep.”

Craig : “Sure honey.”

Tweek : *Turns on Cannibal Corpse*

———

Craig, happily : “Honey I made you cupcakes!”

Tweek, chewing a cupcake that’s practically still batter : “They’re great honey.”

Craig, offering him another : “:]”

Tweek: *Bites into it and it’s rock hard.*

———

Tweek : “Craig you can’t keep eating candy all the time! It’ll rot your teeth.”

Craig : “So does coffee and meth.”

Tweek : “Touché, fucker.”

#ftm craig tucker #south park #sp creek #south park fanart #south park creek #south park craig #south park craig tucker #creek #twaig #so twaig #sp twaig #tweek and craig

[ultimatemilvesbracket]

TESTIMONIALS

"She may not be a mother, but she’s a second grade teacher, so she’s got loads of kids! They’re all “hers” for the school year, and she loves them. She’s got a tough, no-nonsense South Philly attitude, but she’s also capable of profound tenderness and is very nurturing of young minds. And she’s a Philly 11!"

"Two reasons: 1) the French subtitle of the book is literally "The Tribulations of a MILF" and 2) the book/series revolves around Eve's relation to that word (how she gets called that, how she gets into seeing MILF porn as a result, how this leads to her fantasizing about exploring her sexuality (and a greater appreciation for women in general), immediately after she (a single mom) becomes an empty nester and does not know what to do with her life)."

#ultimate milves bracket #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #eve fletcher #mrs fletcher #tumblr bracket #tumblr tournament #tumblr polls

[vee-bees-blog]

Get to know me tag

Thank you for tagging me! @pascalpvnk @sugarcoated-lame

Were you named after anyone? Yes, well my complete name is Vivian and my mom wanted to name me Vivienne after Vivienne Leigh but they didn't allow her so she named me Vivian 🫶

When was the last time you cried? Yesterday, I think I read a fic that got me in the feels

Do you have kids? No, and I don't know if I'll ever want to have

What sports do you play/have played? I played volleyball in middle school and I danced when I was in elementary school but I stray away from sports

Do you use sarcasm? Only when I speak

What’s the first thing you notice about people? Their face, I just try to gather their expressions and if they're nice

What’s your eye color? Dark brown<3

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings, I'm so bad with scary movies

Any talents? I can sing and play the ukulele, I'm learning to play acoustic guitar. I'm also really artsy and like to draw and write.

Where were you born? México

What are your hobbies? Reading, journaling, singing and playing instruments, reading fics, sleeping

Do you have any pets? I have 5! 4 dogs, 2 great Danes a border collie and a french poodle and a turtle

How tall are you? 5.2

Favorite subject in school? English, literature and my music class

Dream job? Writing and owning a cafe where I can sell my baked goods<3

tags (no pressure<3): @javierpena-inatacvest @i-own-loki @louswrld11 @reddedmiller @hechadepoesiayestrellas-blog @undercoverpena-fics @javiscigarette @cristinalovesfrapuccinos @sin-djarin @janaispunk @buckyispunk @xlunapixiex @millennial-teenybopper @sageispunk @yourlocalmerchgirl @mrsmando @anabdaniels @stylesispunkk @beefrobeefcal

And anyone that wants to do it!

#get to know me

[strawbubbysugar]

Hello, it's me again (sorry) I have a lil' question (well, 2, not related, but I'm curious). As always, I'll understand if you don't answer this...!

I never saw you answer a comment over AO3, but I see you answer many Asks here, so I wanted to ask about your preference. Would you prefer reactions/comments about your fic over here or over AO3? I know it sounds weird, sorry, I was just curious if there was a reason or not (either way, I understand. It's really just curiosity, no judgment at all).

Second question because I'm way too curious for my own good ; you said you were Canadian, right? (Maybe I remember wrong...?) Do you speak French too ?

Hello!! :3

I’ve been trying to answer more comments on ao3 lately!! I don’t have much of a preference- I’ll say that if you just wanna say something nice or something that you noticed & you don’t want a response, comment on ao3, but if you have a question or you want a response, send an ask here! :D

I am Canadian yes!! :) I don’t speak much french just rly simple stuff that we learn in elementary school. But I can read a lot of french stuff just from the fact that everything in Canada has both English and french on the box so I’ve learned it from osmosis Hsdgs

My favourite thing about French is that ‘sans’ is used when something isn’t in it, and so when I look at a box of something ___-free it’s ‘sans ___’. :)

Sans gluten. Skeleton bread.

#ask #personal