#grandpa slate

[renagaderex]

A crisp memory

Another (kinda) request that I couldn’t help but think when I saw the prompt. Fall and its leaves and crisp cool air always bring up good memories. And it certainly does for many- maybe even a family of purple beans. 💜💜💜

They need a happy ending.

thank you for viewing!

art is a © renagaderexrider

Indigo is an Among Us Fan character belonging to rodamrix

Among Us is a ©InnerSloth Games

do not repost without permission

#among us #rodamrix #rodamrix inspired #imposter #imposter leader indigo #rodamrix indigo #dark slate blue #grandpa slate #old slate #baby purple #imposter purple #imposter dark slate blue

[aercnaut]

listen. the horrors are unrelenting and so is my draft count. would anyone be mad at me if i nuked my drafts and asks?

#*001. ham is my jam // out of character. #{grandpa dies and suddenly i need a clean slate everywhere}

[tarisbackyard]

Finally got around to playing Heart of Winter, after uhhh... twenty years of me first playing Icewind Dale? For some reason I just always skipped this one during every playthrough.

#why yes I replayed the entire game just to see if I could declare one of the NPC's the grandpa of one of my bhaalspawn #thank you for asking #and yes I think I'll choose Angaar #dude is enough of a blank slate to make this fit with what I had in mind #icewind dale #heart of winter #forgotten realms #dnd #dungeons and dragons

[stevesbipanic]

To my most lovely @undreaming-fanfiction Happy Valentine's Day love youuuu 💕💕💕 I hope I managed to do all three of your prompts justice (small routines, learning new things about each other, and ghosts of your past) ENJOY!!!!! And Ty @artbean for putting this together 💕💕💕

After five years together there's not a lot of things Eddie doesn't know about Steve.

He knows that Steve likes to colour co-ordinate the calendar on their fridge and that his favourite day of the month is the first since he gets to write out everything on a clean slate.

He also knows that Steve has a particular way he does his hair, and that it was a big deal just seeing it done let alone being taught how to do it, it helps he now knows Steve loves a good head scratch.

He knows that Steve is an early riser and always goes on a run, but will shower and curl back in bed with him if Eddie is still asleep.

He knows that there's an order to how and when he checks on their family. The Sinclairs are first, making sure he's waited until Lucas should be back from training and Erica back from Tracey's, calling there too if there's a sleepover. Next is the Wheelers, Nancy promising him they're all ok if they're visiting and Mike letting him know if she's available that night if she's at college. Then the Hendersons, Claudia inviting him to dinner in the background as Dustin regales his day. Max is next, letting Steve know if she wants to stay over that night. The Byers are the end of the kids, El and Will promising him it's really over. Wayne is near the end, back from his shift safe and sound. Before they dated Eddie was during this time too, helping him to sleep just hearing Steve's voice. Robin is last and she'll be on the line until they're both safely in dreamland.

Eddie loves learning new things about Steve, especially when now they're further and far between. It comes as a suprise when it's something as simple as tea that teaches him something new about his sweetheart.

They're visiting Steve's grandma, who was a lot cooler about the whole boyfriend thing than Steve's parents were.

"Your grandpa, Otis, had a friend, Freddie, who kept a picture of his boy in his pocket, would've gotten him in a lot of trouble back then but love like that was worth dying for."

She had been I'll lately so him and Steve had taken a drive up to visit her, now living in a retirement home in Indy. She was a riot in Eddie's opinion, and made a mental note to make sure they visited her more, he was happy to drive them, anything for Steve.

They were halfway through a game of Scrabble, where Eddie had successfully convinced Steve that Megadeth should be allowed (it shouldn't), when the question was raised.

Edith, yes Eddie also got a delight out of the fact that they shared a name, buzzed her nurse who popped her head in knowing there were visitors.

"Everything good, Eds?" Eddie's eyes twinkled in mischief, he was teasing Steve about the name similarities when they got home.

"A spot of tea, darling? I'm parched and I'm sure these lovely boys are too. Steve, sweetheart?"

"Oh yes, milk and two sugars please, but cubes on the side instead of scoops of it's not trouble."

Eddie's heart skipped a beat at his answer, "Eddie, you want a tea?"

"Oh um, yes, same as him, please ma'am."

"Such polite boys, we need more grandsons like you visiting," she laughed leaving to make the tea. It was surely just a coincidence that Steve took his tea like that, he's sure plenty of people do.

The real suprise came when the tea was set down, cubes on the side, and Steve picked one up and mixed it in, leaving the other alone. The game continued, Eddie eyeing that lone cube, a similar one on his own saucer. When Steve took his last sip of tea he picked up the cube and popped it into his mouth, crunching it. Eddie did the same.

"Done that since you were a kid, always a sweet tooth."

Steve laughed, "It's how my nanny did it when we played tea party with Carol."

Edith smiled, "She was a lovely woman, shamed they moved outta town."

Something settled deep in Eddie's heart. The rest of the afternoon it sat there, and through the goodbyes and hugs, all through the drive home too.

Eddie didn't mention it as they made dinner, Steve doing the chopping and as always Eddie dutifully stirring. The feeling sat there through the night as they watched tv, curled up in a blanket built for one not two. Nothing was brought up as they cleaned up, Steve washing, Eddie drying. It wasn't until bed, in the safety and quiet of their room that Eddie asked.

"Your nanny? What was she like?"

Steve's eyes lit up, "Oh she was the best, noone as good before her and no-one as good after. She loved taking me to the park, sometimes if his dad said it was ok her son would come too, he was fun, built the best sandcastles. She always baked me cookies too, especially if Carol was coming over for a tea party. And she would tell me the little extra sugar was a treat and that I should always have something a little sweet in life."

Eddie's eyes were tearing up by the time Steve finished, "Eds, baby are you ok?"

"What was her name?"

Steve's eyebrows crinkled, "Sarah, why? Oh." He said, remembering the dark curls that surrounded her face, the ones on her son, the boy laying across from him.

"Your mum, oh Eds, so when the tea? I'm sorry." Steve knew about his mum and how when she died it left Eddie all alone.

"Can't believe in five years, we've never had tea," a wet chuckle followed Eddie's words.

A sad smile graced Steve's face, "We should have more, need a bit more sweetness in my life."

Eddie smiled at him, "Knew there was a reason I called you sweetheart, and I clearly won you over with my awesome sandcastles."

A laugh burst out of Steve and that sound was sweeter than any sugar Eddie could eat.

#happy valentine's day #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #sweetandspicyexchange

[firegirl888101]

how would the harbingers react to a reader who's good at drawing? like, they like to draw the harbingers or other things

Good at drawing?

I'm shit at drawing so I'm not really sure what to say, that's why I didn't reply to this for awhile. But, I eventually got a couple things when my friend was sketching some stuff in front of me.

Sorry that the current Insatiable Madness chapter is taking so long, I've been studying a lot these past couple of days.

I also got another ask where it asked about Halloween. I don't really celebrate Halloween, because I never grew up with it. I've always been too shy to trick-or-treat and I didn't have many friends (and still don't) who'd want to go with me. Quite sad actually, but it's alright. I don't think I missed out on much.

Is anyone expecting me to make a Halloween special? I don't mind doing it, but I'll need inspiration as I wouldn't know where to start 💀

Actually, the more I think about it, I do have one fun idea. (Harbingers going trick-or-treating??? Halloween party if that even exists? Idk, I'll have to do some research.)

|You can take this with Yandere and without - some will probably lean towards yan though.|

So, to begin with:

Pierro wouldn't be too bothered. I feel if Y/N had a skill they were confident in, and wanted to show it, he'd let his curiousity get the better of him and check it out. But, if it's something like drawing he'll probably leave a comment then leave. Whether it's positive or negative, you be the judge. This man is like a slate slab. No personality I'm sorry 😭😭 (When I see more of his character, maybe I'll like him more?)

If you were to draw this man, he'd be humbled. A Grandpa who received his very first present from his grandchild. Would definitely frame the damn thing in his office (which originally was your parent's) he'd put it on the desk. It's his office now, don't argue for it back.

Capitano would show interest. Not too much since he's the main captain of the Fatui, but still interested. If he's bored, or deems the 'fort' (the house) safe, he'll sit down with you and watch what you're doing. Occasionally asking you if he could doodle with you - but I think that would be very rare. His main objective in his mind is guarding you when your own is low whilst you're having fun, doodling or drawing something.

Would 100% deny the picture of him at first. He'd think, that looks like me, but it can't be. Yes, it's him, you'd reassure. Eventually he does take it and folds it in his coat. After that, he'd probably leave the room in embarrassment. Since then on, he'd definitely keep all drawings you've made of him in his pocket. There's too many? Let's put it in the second pocket. That's full too? Looks like he's buying a new coat. Oh? There's room in his military coat he hasn't worn in two years? That'll do just nicely.

Dottore would be intrigued if he saw you practice anatomy - or if you drew more of a gorey scene. I think he'd be even more interested if you liked to draw the human body with extra things (such as arms, legs, eyes or even got rid of a few), and question you on your design choices and if it already exists somewhere. (He's not fooling you, he's obviously taking inspirations for a new experiment). If he didn't know, or wasn't good, he'd probably ask for tips on how to sketch ideas like yours. He reassures you it's not for any experimentation but once again, he's not fooling you at all.

If you were to draw him he'd treat it like glass. Nobody has ever given him a sketch before - bonus points if you draw him injured whilst you're angry with him. He'd treat it as if you drew him with love, and not as if you'd stab him in the heart if you ever got the chance. What do you mean he shouldn't like it this much? It's a work of art! He'd be very quick to correct the drawing if you got anything wrong. Who knows what this man has in his body at this point.

Columbina would join you in your drawing activities. Maybe add some glitter if you have any. The second you complain about cleaning up, however, she has somehow disappeared and has become very forgetful about the events upstairs. 'How curious!~' She would hum to herself with her usual smile. Is definitely the type to ask if you could draw her. Who are you to refuse? Especially when she gives you that look of daunt hope and kindness which makes you drop your pen in fear. Before you can give her an answer, you've already picked up your pencil and began to sketch her beautiful headpiece.

When Columbina receives her multiple sketches, she's overjoyed. Oh, look how you drew this part! How you drew her clothes! She's quick to kiss you on the cheek as a thank you and runs off somewhere. Huh, you feel like you've just been used.

Arlecchino will roll her eyes at first. She's seen many children in the hearth draw for her. Her initial thoughts were vague, she didn't really see much of your hobby. That was until she actually saw what you were drawing. She would stare as you worked, your pencil delicately brushing against the paper you most likely bought the other day. It soon will become a habit to watch you work, becoming a therapeutic source for her. She sometimes questions why you're drawing... certain things, but she wouldn't actually stop your creative mind from working.

Handing Arlecchino the drawing you drew of her would make her blood rise to her cheeks slightly. Sure, she's received a lot of gifts in this sense before. But from you? What an honour! She'll accept it with a soft smile she'd usually show the kids, and pat your head treating you like one. Little do you know she's trying so hard to control her cute agression response by not tearing the paper.

Pulcinella would react very similarly to Pierro. However, he'd have more experience with complimenting and encouraging 'a child' in a hobby they're having fun with. If he saw your skill, he'd probably compliment it whole-heartedly with a chuffed smile. Massaging his mustache like some aristocrat, in the 1940s... Anyway, he'd be very pleased when he watches you draw more and more. He's happy that you're spending your time doing something you like under the tense situation his coworkers (and him, but he doesn't like to admit it) have brought upon you.

I do not see you drawing this man at all. He's a short, dobby, old, looking as man. I don't see him as the type to ask either, at all. He's minding his own business in your house and plans to keep it that way until the situation is resolved.

Scaramouche really doesn't care. We've all got our own likes and dislikes, but he's not bothered about yours. Will most likely purposefully pass by you working on a piece and insult it just to get attention. He'd never actually mean it though - he just never tells you that important fact. As time progresses he'll sneak into your room just to look at more sketches or finished drawings you've done, and assess your progress from each year if you've been practicing for a long time-period.

Now, here's where things get interesting. If you were to draw him and never show it to him, said puppet finding it for himself in one of your drawers, he'd first feel angry. Why wouldn't you show him this? It's of him! ...But then he'd quickly realise it's because of the way he treated you when you were working (oops). If you actually handed it to him and let him keep it, he'd be delighted. You actually drew him? He didn't even have to manipu-- he means 'ask' you to draw him? This is a good step forward to where he wants to be in your heart.

Sandrone would be delighted to know that she's finally found a use for you in her head. She never thought that purposefully walking past you one evening would lead to her shuffling through all the sketches and designs you've done with awe. Where did you get this idea from? How can she recreate it? Would you be happier and more devoted to her if she were to make your dreams true? She digresses. Watching your creative little mind draw your ideas to life inspires her also, and makes her want to recruit you as a special exception to the 'no non-artificial beings' allowed in her workshop. Thinking of all the monstrosities you could design with her help sends pleasurable shivers up her spine.

Drawing her, however? This was rather unprecedented. Out of all the things-- no, people you could have drawn... and you decide on her? And ooh! You even drew her slave she likes to travel around on, how thoughtful, you're already expressing your adoration for her works! Trust me, don't draw her. You'll give her daydreams that will never happen.

Signora, like most of the harbingers, wouldn't care at first. She hates your house and hates your world, why in Teyvat's name would she be interested in what you're doing? That's what she used to think, until her arrogant slick eyes caught sight of what exactly you were drawing. In my opinion, there's only a couple things that would interest Signora. Drawing dresses, if you were interested in fashion designing, would definitely be the main one. Viewing your designs after you finished them would soon become a small hobby for her, and soon, she'd eventually ask you to draw her in one of your designs.

You'd say yes, of course. An excuse to draw a drop-dead gorgeous woman in one of your designs for free? No way you were going to pass this opportunity! For her hard work in modeling, you'd definitely pay back twice and give her a drawing of her in her harbinger uniform too - which I think would flatter her a bit too much.

Pantalone wouldn't care, and would never become interested. He's a very rich and successful banker, not any ordinary man. As soon as he sees you drawing somewhere in the house, he'll shrug and go the opposite way. He knows what it's like to be interrupted through a thoughtful process, and he doesn't feel like getting an earful from you if he interrupts it. What he does think about, however, is if you're making money from it. Maybe an online business. He asks, and receives a very disappointing answer. No? What do you mean no? These are good, he'd pay for a portrait! Well, if Mora was a usable currency here. Ugh, the thought of being a poor man in this world makes him disgusted.

Drawing him would result in lots of praise. He'd be very happy you used your own time to draw him. He didn't even have to pay for it, it was gift! You even said so yourself. Immediately taken from your hands and framed somewhere. You can't seem to find the drawing though... Pantalone insists it's still in the house, but no matter where you look you just can't find it! Oh well, it's probably better you didn't know where it went. (You would have never been able to find it, he hid the location so well after all.) Pantalone told you he'd give something back to you as a thank you, but you're not holding him to his word.

Tartaglia would be interested the second he sees you doing something he hasn't seen you do before. That looks interesting, let him give drawing a try! He'd boast how his siblings love his drawings he creates, but you knew he was lying to set a cheery mood. Your understanding was backed when you actually saw his 'Amazing Drawing'... It was embarrassing to say the least. He would heed all your little tips and eventually get good at drawing from your guidance! I can see him as the type to use these skills later for his siblings, and as the type to continue drawing even if you begin to get bored of it... He's skilled with his fingers after all-- okay I'm sorry I'm done.

Drawing him can go one in two ways. I see him as someone who will whine about being drawn. He'll say: 'Have you drawn me yet?' in one of the most annoying voices he cna muster. He knows and understands you find it annoying when he asks you to draw him, so he's found a loophole. Just keep asking questions related to it until you get the hint! ...You got the hint weeks ago, but you're refusing to do it. Well, you're refusing to show him your drawings you've already finished and hid out of sight. Showing him these drawings would make him really happy! Would fold his favourite and carry it around with him everywhere like some of the other harbingers. His next commission he's planned to ask you is of a drawing of Capitano. You eagerly declined, not wishing to impose on the Captain's privacy.

#genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #fatui harbingers #yandere harbingers #genshin #pierro #capitano #il dottore #columbina #arlecchino #pulcinella #scaramouche #sandrone #la signora #pantalone #tartaglia #childe #fatui #genshin fatui

[candywife333]

Better Have My Money

[TEASER]

-SLATED TO RELEASE IN DECEMBER

chubby caretaker reader x CEO jungkook

"You gold digger, how dare you seduce my grandfather with your feminine wiles? How did you do it with that fat ass? Must've blindfolded my poor grandpa".

I turned around, almost wheezing with laughter still stuck in my lungs, "Hey, don't call me a gold digger dude. That is insulting to me. They say diamonds are a girl's best friend. Why would I settle for something as cheap as gold? And why do you think I seduced your grandpa. I was just his caretaker bro, that's it."

Jungkook bit out, enraged with his eyes blazing, "Then why the hell did he write you in the fucking will you bitch? He left half of his net worth to you"?!!! The dude grabbed the collar of my starch white Ralph Lauren polo, "Do you even comprehend what you have done"?!!

I pushed the dude's hand off , "Dude stop trying to choke me. This is a premium polo, do you know that? I have to return it back to the store next week. You intend on accusing me of things I didn't do and now you want me to have the misfortune of not getting a refund". My eyes got misty as I whimpered out," What type of demon are you? Trying to make the poor poorer I see. You utter rascal".

He looked like steam was coming out of his eyes as he shouted, "How dare you call me a rascal!!! You whorish vixen"!! I thought I would get offended but I was really impressed by his vocabulary. I shook his sleeve, "Dude, do you read historical romance or something? Like the Bridgertons or Outlander. Because your vocabulary is hella impressive. You must've memorized the entire SAT vocabulary list". I waved my hands to silence him. "Forget it. Just listen to me for a second. If you want to get me off this mythical will you speak of, you will have to silence me with either the power of your pocket or the power of the P".

He stared at me quizzically, as though he were confused. I smiled placatingly, "Look, it is very simple. Either you pay me a direct cash deposit of 75 percent of whatever I was promised by your grandfather, or you pay me in sex".

His jaw dropped open, so open that a few cockroaches could fly in if he let them. He seemed to choke on his own spit, coughing till he solemnly sputtered out, "Number one is not on the table. What the hell do you mean by sex"?!!!

I assessed him, with a twitch of one of my eyebrows, "It's an age old profession bro. If I really must explain it", I sat down on a bench and explained , "you must voraciously plunder my depths so to speak". He gulped as he gawked at me with something similar to disgust, "Plunder your depths? You mean that I am supposed to fuck your lardy ass to get rid of you".

I smiled , nodding enthusiastically ," I wouldn't put it in such an uncouth, uncultured manner. To put it in a more sophisticated manner, you must ravage me passionately". He continued to look more confused, so I sighed and clarified with gravity, "To put it more precisely, I want to rattle your snake, la chupa your cabra, or even better, hanky your panky". He gasped in horror, eyes widening as though he had seen a ghost. " But essentially, yes, you must tup me with your very long member for approximately a month". With an astonished face he menacingly bit out, "And how would you know that it is very long you trollop"?

My eyes glinted in the sun as I chirped out sunnily, "Those pants fit you very well Sir, if you must know. And after having consumed enough erotica for years, I can tell you one thing". I winked obnoxiously as I eyed his pants, " My estimation skills never have failed me".

#bts x reader #jungkook x reader #chubby reader #comedy #eventual smut #bts x plus size reader #bts x chubby reader #bts x curvy reader #jungkook x chubby reader #jungkook x curvy reader #gold diggger #caretaker reader #jungkook x plus size reader #humor

[desertdollranch]

With Courtney joining the doll family, I had to make a place for her in the doll room, which is always a fun challenge to tackle. But I promised Caroline that the next AG doll to move in will take her place on the wall shelves. If that sounds like a punishment, I promise it isn't, because it's definitely an upgrade!

Caroline is one of four dolls who have their own little corner in my living room, furnished with their accessories and furniture. Josefina, Kaya, and Kirsten are the other three.

Longtime readers might remember when I built Caroline's parlor back in March of 2020. Newer readers will not, and maybe this is your first time seeing the parlor. It's modeled after the one in Caroline's original collection, only mine is bigger and more proportional, not to mention cheaper. I spent only about $10 on the supplies. Buying the real deal would cost at least $250.

I've furnished it with little bits and pieces I've either made or found secondhand. Nothing here is from her or any American Girl doll's actual collection.

This weekend I installed some new lace curtains on the window seat, seen at the right of the second picture. I previously had a single curtain with some pretty embroidery on it, but I love the romantic look of the lace and the tassels.

Because I have a bit of space left for it, I also brought in the clothes press!

This is also not AG brand, but a piece my grandpa built for me when I was 8 or 9. It's modeled after Felicity's clothes press from her retired collection. My mom always called it the tea cabinet because that's what she thought Felicity had in her collection, but I only ever used it to store the few doll clothes and accessories I had.

The top part is removable, and until now has been in Kirsten's room to hold her clothes. The bottom half with the drawers has held some of my Calico Critters extras. But with Caroline moving in, I really wanted her to have this gorgeous piece of furniture. Kirsten moved all her clothes into a new wooden trunk, which I'll show once I'm done painting it.

There's plenty of room for Caroline's dresses, even with the additional outfits I've sewn for her.

The top drawer holds her clothing accessories, like her shoes and bonnets. I made two pairs of her stockings and a pair of gloves. Her ice skates are also here. And the bottom drawer has her non-clothing accessories, all of which I've made, including her carpet bag, lantern, slate, lunch bag, and her father's ledger.

#caroline abbott #caroline's collection #caroline's parlor

[trivalentlinks]

quora (a q&a social media site, like yahoo answers, but higher quality) used to have a lot of questions of the form "how would you explain X to your grandmother?" Where X was usually some mathematics or physics concept. Things like:

How would you explain quantum mechanics to your grandma?

Category theory?

General relativity/space-time?

Bayesian statistics?

(this was before quora made it so that you got paid for asking questions that generated engagement, thus inundating the site with troll questions; back then quora had decent questions)

One of my friends, who had a fairly large following on quora, had two grandmothers (out of four, including step-grandmas) who had PhDs in mathematics. He used to love answering these questions like,

"I would say [extremely abstract explanation with analogies to far more esoteric concepts than the question was asking],

But my grandma's an algebraic topologist, so your mileage may vary."

One time some fellow quora users we knew irl asked him about this, since he's generally very sweet and opposed to trolling/being needlessly rude to people online, and someone asked him why he didn't feel bad about ignoring the spirit of the questions, and essentially poking fun at them in front of his large following,

And he said, "well the thing is that these questions are actually kind of rude to grandmas. they act like all grandmas are the same, just some blank slate for you to explain things to, when in fact grandmas can have quite varied interests and knowledge. I'm just responding to the questions' offensiveness in kind"

And then he mentioned how nobody asks "how would you explain [science concept] to your dad?", right?

Because society thinks of fathers as diverse and varied, so why aren't grandmas viewed as a similarly diverse group, when they actually are, and as someone with four grandmas (through divorce and remarriage), he would know (even though two of his grandmas apparently had very similar interests to each other, lol)

.

And I just. Those questions always left a bad taste in my mouth, too, but I had never thought to explain it this way (which I guess is why he was a quora influencer and I wasn't, lol)

I also had more than the normal number of grandmas (grandpa was double married (poly marriage was legal back then)) and like, yeah, each of my three grandmas had a very unique and interesting story.

Two of my grandmas ran away from home to go to university when their families didn't approve of women getting educations. One of these became an electrical engineer.

The other studied law (fully funded on government merit scholarship) and became an understudy to the equivalent of a justice of the supreme court (under the nationalist government, which unfortunately led to her being subject to denunciation rallies later on). She was also into martial arts and knew some gorgeous forms with a sword. (She was the grandma I was closest to because she raised me for a few years when I was a kid)

The other grandma (the one who didn't go to university, grandpa's first wife) was an avid storyteller who could keep all the neighbourhood kids entertained for hours from stories told from memory (her language had no writing system), and also a master at embroidery. She also easily won over my mother and my aunt's love even though they only met her in their early teens (my grandpa had hidden her from their mom, his second wife) and she didn't speak any Chinese, and my mom and aunt only spoke Chinese.

Like, yeah, grandmas are a diverse group and it does suck that society generally doesn't regard them as such

#grandmothers #grandmas #long post #math #physics #diversity of grandmas #for some reason readmore/the keep reading thing isn't working for me atm

[retrodreamgirl]

seasons of becoming: winter | steve harrington x fem!reader

spring | summer | fall | winter

summary: winter is the way the bare trees whistle in the wind, their spindly leaves weighed heavily with the fresh slate of white, snow people made of makeshift, carrot noses, grandpa's pipe, and grandma knitted scarfs, the lakes glossed over and ready for blades, tricks, and the occasional spill. it's shopping for presents and sneaking a peek, the celebration of holidays long rooted in tradition and the welcome of ones created anew, it's a time for families lost and found to gather at feasted tables and cozied beside the fire. it's the years finality and it's first breath, a time of revelation and reconciliation, feelings lost and found, the continuation of something old in the form of something new. [7.3k]

warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of sex, fem!reader, bad writing, not edited, its 2am and idk what else so if you love me will you let me know?

ojo spotted. me actually posting a fic; i hope it was worth the wait and if not...sorry bout it <3

⤜♡→

With winter comes fruition.

Hawkins is a wonderland filled with snow and streets slick with ice, lakes glossed over waiting for the blades of childrens skates and their sore bums when they can’t manage proper balance. 

Shop shelves are overflowing with hot cocoa and marshmallows of varying sizes. Some like the larger ones that float like mushy mountains giving way to the ocean of chocolate sweet and some the smaller like flakes building hills of fluffy snow. Both so they can further scrutinize which mug has more, the basis for many adolescent squabbles just after a warm dinner, usually a cozy soup or steaming stew.

Snow people line the streets, neighborhoods in silent competition with the decoration of festive lights and homemade wreaths versus the store bought ones with fake holly woven through the stiff plastic of artificial evergreen. There are gifts hidden in every nook and cranny and children peeking in the most unsuspecting of places to lift corners of wrapping paper and gently shake packages before their parents return  from work or further shopping. 

For you it’s the season of fresh cookies and specialized gifts. It’s thoughtful combinations of chocolates and two for one baking classes. It’s the newly arrived snowglobes lining the shelves, shaken with each instance of a new customer walking through the door, flakes floating in the glass world that mimics a small town in tiny. 

The tree by the door is dusted in fake snow, ornaments clinging to the thin branches and a string of colored lights freshly strung with new bulbs. There’s popcorn and cranberry garland the kids insisted on stringing along the counters when they helped you decorate a few weeks ago. 

Winter is lovely, but something is off and no one can quite put their finger on it. 

It was a tail end sort of thing, something that carried on through the holidays riding autumn’s lapels. The surface was untouched, a stillness disturbed only by the drop of water on an unmoving stream in the shape of constant questions with no answer. The spindly arms of bare trees grasping for nowhere leaves in the aching cold. 

“Are you coming to my place for Christmas dinner?” Will tightens a pretty red bow atop a box of sweets, a secret message lining the gift tag in his messy scrawl. It was neglectful to ignore his invitation for so long, you’re abashed that he’s bringing it up so suddenly, never used to anyone following up on these things.

“Oh.” You say it like the possibility of attending only just occurred to you, half breathless like you’d run a mile while you thought of it. You pause a moment, holiday radio showering you with snowflake eighths and quarters. “I don’t wanna put your mom out, I’ll probably just stay in, maybe call my parents.”

“You’re not putting her out. She’s excited to meet you, we’ve mentioned you enough that she talks like she’s known you for years.” It’s not Will’s style to be so intentional, but you can tell he’s guilting you just a tad. 

How thoughtless of you to think of refusing his mother’s invitation. 

The dinner isn’t on Christmas, so realistically you could pretend you’ve got other plans or leave the shop open a little later than usual, but either way you wouldn’t get away with it. Too marked by a teenager’s curious suspicion — how ridiculous.

“You know, I’m not avoiding this dinner.”

“Of course not. Why would you?” Will shrugs, flicking at the tassels dangling on a freshly packaged apple pie. 

“Exactly. I’m just letting you know in case that’s what you were thinking.” 

“She really does wanna meet you though. Plus, you did say you’d bring dessert.” 

You did say you’d bring dessert, but that was before you decided to avoid it altogether.

It’s easier to be annoyed with the sudden string dangling from the slip of your apron than to waste time scolding yourself internally, so you tug at the pitiful length of fabric. “Who’s coming? I mean,” — you mean to ask if there’s any reason you should be avoiding it — “is everyone else gonna be there?” 

“I think so—” He considers you for a moment then glances at the box on the counter. “Max will definitely be there. I think she misses you.” 

“What do you mean? I’m around.” 

“Yeah, but you make a lot of excuses now. And not good ones.”

You scoff, but only to cover the pit of guilt that feels bottomless in your stomach.

You’ve thought it a little mean of you to back off so suddenly. As much as you can blame the way the seasons have changed and with it the smell of decadence casting a permanent shadow over your doorstep in the frigid death of winter, it’s mostly personal. 

“You’re good.” You relent, unavailable for further comment on the matter at hand. “I’ll be there. Maybe a little late though.” 

~*~

A little late meant a lot.

The pathetic mess decorating the floor is only slightly less pathetic than the way you’ve been sitting next to it sobbing for nearly thirty minutes. You aren’t sure if it’s the scalding burn roughening your palm, the scattered pie crust dirtying the tile, or an unsaid third thing that’s brought the worst of the tears. You feel stupid, cheeks puffy and eyes sore around the rims, head pounding as a result of your emotional panic. 

It was a careless mistake in your haste to make a decent impression, flustered to no end when you forgot to mitt your hand before shoving it into the oven. Careless but immediately regrettable. Your eyes dart to your apron, a sardonic chuckle spilling forth when you spot the nearly spotless seasonal cloth. 

“S’not gonna clean itself.” You push your hands to your closed eyes, pressing until you see spots and then some. It feels nice for a spell, leveling some of the pressure at the base of your skull. Short lived is your reprieve, the sudden jingle and the accompaniment of crisp wind setting the hairs on your arm stock straight. 

“Um…sorry but we’re closed!” You manage to speak, though an octave out of character. Your uninjured hand finds purchase on the sharp lip of the counter to lift you just enough to spot Lucas as a blob of winter, fastened in his large coat with his hands shoved to his mouth perhaps recovering from the frigid cold. “What are you doing here?” 

He makes a strained sort of sound, something between a laugh and an incoherent utterance. “Making sure you aren’t bailing.” 

“I’m not bailing.” 

He shrugs, shedding his coat in favor of rounding the counter, probably for the warmth of your momentary assailant. He stops in front of the oven and the pile of pie, brows drawn when he soaks in your pitiful state. 

“You’ve been crying…” He’s suddenly in his element, kneeling at your side and gently taking hold of the arm you hadn’t realized was cradled limply against your stomach. “Are you hurt?” 

“S’just a burn, I’ll be fine.” You mildly carve his shoulder with your free hand, smiling genuinely when he continues to uncurl the unintentional fist you’d wound so tightly. “I forgot the oven mitt. What a dummy right?” 

His lip twitches, but Lucas doesn’t laugh. 

“Did you run it under cool water or something?” He’s inspecting the skin, backing off a tad when he grazes the surface and you wince. 

“Yeah, Lucas, don’t worry I’m fine. I just need to clean this up and make another pie I guess.” You feel silly having been caught wallowing, especially by Lucas. You’re always the one doling out wisdom and here you sit in bits of pie and the afterburn of your misery. “How did you get here by the way? Please tell me you didn’t walk or ride your bike.” 

“No, I asked my mom to drop me here instead of Will’s. Don’t you have any pies left from this morning?”

“Yes, but those are from this morning.” You urge, finally pulling yourself from the ground fetching a broom and a cloth to scoop up the gooey chunks of apple mingling in with the crust. The tile has already begun to glaze over with the sugary filling and your back is sore thinking about scrubbing it up. Lucas follows suit, ambling around for something in your cabinets. “I don’t wanna show up with a pie I was going to sell, that’s rude.”  

“I honestly don’t think they’d know the difference. Besides, I definitely watched Steve buy store bought cookies.” He slides the first aid kit free from one of the cabinets, pulling an assortment of bandages and sizing them against his palm. “He didn’t even buy them from the bakery either, he just picked up those seasonal butter cookies that come in the Christmas tin—”

“Well, I’m certainly not Steve. But I get it. I'll bring the ones from this morning. I was probably just gonna donate them anyway.” 

Silence ensues, you busying yourself with the gross miscalculation of a missing mitt and Lucas pulling your hand away from the mess when he settles on a satisfactory adhesive. He handles you with the same tenderness as before, his cheeks half hollowing where you can tell his teeth have pierced the flesh in concentration — like he’s done this a million times and needs to get it just right. 

It strikes you then, how odd it is. 

How you could have been so alone in your being were it not for the implicit demand for simplicity in your small town youth. 

The age old tale of boy meets girl, the way it unfolded just right and led Lucas through the door of your shop for the first time not a week after it opened. He seemed so fresh faced then, light hearted in his banter, unsure which line of the law you toed. Probably waiting for you to kick him out on his ass because he’s a kid and kids are always up to no good. 

The way he nervously counted his change and the corners of his lips sloped a bit when it didn’t add up exactly right. Then his further faltering in confidence when you gave him the gift anyway, making him promise to tell you how things went if he wanted to get even. 

You never imagined he would keep coming back buying gifts, with actual money, sometimes he would come by just to tell you about Max over a fresh pastry and eventually about people you never dreamed would someday become your friends as well. 

Sometimes he'll even bring you little trinkets, action figures that now litter the store counter and neat posters he’d strung in the office in the back. 

You’ve both grown and in a strange way you’ve grown together.

Now he seems wiser, more confident in his person and more comfortable with yours.

“You’re a good guy, Lucas.” 

“Relax, you’re not dying or anything.” He grins, securing the bandage. “If anything you’re being a bit of a wuss, it’s not that bad.” 

“Excuse me, but I told you I was fine! You’re the one who pulled out the first aid kit, need I remind you. Just take the compliment.” 

“Why?” You start on the gooey apples already beginning to harden against the floor, face heating under your sudden affection.

“Because you could be with your friends right now and instead you’re here with me.” 

“You’re my friend.” 

“You know what I mean.” You scoff, appeased when the apple gunk comes up easier than you were expecting. Lucas helps sweep the rest of the crust and you pull the remaining pies from the display case, boxing and tying them up extra nicely with a ribbon if only because you feel bad they aren’t as fresh as you’d hoped. 

You’ve finally managed to put yourself together, locking the shop up then settling in your car with a trunk full of presents and a backseat filled with pie. Your sigh of relief meets Lucas’s in tandem when the heating kicks on, the two of you sitting for a moment while your windshield defrosts. 

“So…as a good guy, your words not mine, can I ask why you were crying?” 

It’s begun to snow. White ash flutters to a stop on your windshield where you scrutinize the crystalline figures until they give way to water, swiped clean by your stiff wipers. You swear if you listen hard enough you can still hear the wind whistling over the low hum of the radio. 

If there was room between your chest and your steering wheel you think your legs would’ve crawled upward until your jeans were kissing the puffiness of your sweater. You’ve always been good at avoiding these conversations, the ones that force you to lay yourself bare. 

Now it feels like too much effort. It feels unfair when Lucas is sitting here with you, no more fooled by your predisposition to be nonchalant about things that are bigger than the small way you phrase them. 

It’s so cold, but you’re too hot. It’s embarrassing to admit you’ve lost your footing, even worse when you haven’t decided if it’s as detrimental as it feels when your heart slams in your chest and it's just a bit more difficult to breathe. You’re so starving but you haven’t had the stomach to eat in days and when you do it takes more effort than you’d like. 

Not to mention your certainty in the reaction Lucas will give you if you hint at your momentary role as an outline in Steve Harrington’s bed. 

“I dropped my pie.” Not completely false. Who wouldn’t cry over a perfectly good pie gone to waste? It just doesn’t happen to be the most true of the reasons he found you the way he did. Perhaps only the last straw “And I’m just a tad overwhelmed lately with the holidays and all.” 

“Uh huh…” He chews on it for a moment allowing you the courtesy of quiet, disturbed only by the sound of your wipers working overtime against the unforgiving snow. “You know, I definitely saw the way you looked at Steve that first time in the store.” 

“And how exactly did I look at him, Sinclair?” Your feet slide against the mats on your floor, a slippery squeak permeating in your eardrums. “You know what? I don’t wanna know. We’re late.” 

You coast for a few minutes, tires cautiously gliding along ice slick roads. 

“It was like a—”

“Lucas.” 

“Oh what a hottie!” His voice jumps about three octaves, hands framing his face in a manner quipped as stereotypically feminine. 

“Oh it was not!”

“Was too.” 

“Whatever — is there actually a point to this?” The drive to the Byers’ is shorter than you were expecting, your tires sliding a tad when your foot suddenly finds the break. Your memory taking the shape of your leg muscles rather than the power of your brain when you spot their porch lights fading into view. 

There are a few cars already lining the drive, your headlight’s reflection bouncing off the rusted mailbox with the faint outline of numbers or a name to one side, you aren’t sure in the low lighting and you’ve never been concerned enough to care until now. 

Aligning your wheels with shoveled asphalt you glance at your passenger and he’s sending you a look you pretend not to understand. The way Lucas’s eyebrows lower until they’re set in deadpan, his hand half pulling at the lever on the door — in a hurry but not enough that he doesn’t find it unnecessary to impress this upon you. His head is resting on the back of his seat, lolled to the side like it’d taken all of his energy to get there. 

“Will you just help me with these pies?” Lucas relents, but he’s not through, beating you where you round to the passenger side for a clearer shot to the front door once you’ve loaded up. 

He perches on the backseat, nearly squashing one of the boxes. 

“You guys kissed, didn't you?” He’s not coy about the sudden accusation, more put out by the drama of it all if the obscene roll of his eyes is any indication. You have the audacity to sputter, the sound toeing the line between amusement and disbelief. Neither fooling Lucas one bit. “Dustin already got Steve to cough it up and he said it’s not a big deal, people kiss and it doesn’t mean anything.”

You’re about to brush Lucas off, demand he get out of your car, but you pause.

A sudden movement, hand half cuffing his coat puffed wrist and your weight resting on your right foot. Your lip twitches and your stomach does a funny little somersault, the kind you only associate with butterflies though right now it feels more like a swarm of bats.

“Steve said that or Dustin?” You blurt, dropping Lucas’s arm in favor of clutching the freezing corner of your door with more force than necessary. 

“Huh?” 

“You said that he said it’s not a big deal. Who said that, Steve or Dustin?” A small detail, but perhaps the only thing to drive you back to what you deem a semblance of sanity rather than the crumbling corner you’ve so gracelessly clung to for the past several weeks. 

So sure you were that Steve would’ve preferred your easy slip into the silent night to the awkward pleasantries in the morning to follow. 

It was only that fateful night as you laid wide awake, a feeling settled heavy over every inch of you, that you shuddered beneath the ghosted feeling of Steve’s hands on your skin. A guilt settled thick and bitter atop your tongue.

Perhaps you’d read him wrong. There were so many signs in either direction, maybe you’d chosen to follow the worst of them and you were subjecting Steve to waking a man broken by your sudden departure. 

It was this thought that won out amongst the rest. Especially when you didn’t see or hear from Steve for days until they became weeks and you're sure by now you’ve hit the one month mark. 

It’s a horrible thought, but if Lucas is saying what you think he is then you can allow yourself the space to breathe because maybe Steve is just as bad as you thought. It sours a bit in your stomach and a part of you thinks you could puke or cry over it just a bit more, but if it’s true then you’re sure you could learn to be okay with it.

“Uh…I mean that’s what Dustin said Steve said, but for all I know he could’ve been paraphrasing. It is Dustin we’re talking about here.” You can tell Lucas feels like he’s skating on thin ice, unsure which way feels solid enough to glide his way to safety. 

“Okay, let’s go inside.”

“Yeah…” 

You breathe, shivering against a hefty gust of wind. It nearly blinds you to the path before you. An omen if you had to guess. Though good or bad? You couldn’t even begin to say. “Unless there’s some other place you need to be?” 

~*~

Everything is chaos as soon as the Byers’ front door is thrown open, Joyce welcoming you both with open arms. 

She’s thrilled with the arsenal of desserts and Lucas shoots you something of a smug side eye. You can hear the kids arguing about something in the living room until someone grunts that they should all be quiet to which someone else, El you deduce, retorts something with a level of sass you’d yet to hear from the sweet teen. 

Joyce is ushering you into the kitchen, barely enough time for you to dart your eyes toward everyone else in the living room in a failed attempt at a headcount. 

It feels extra homey and you wonder if it has anything to do with the smell of Joyce’s cooking and the various candles and decorations or if it all comes from the woman herself, preparing you and Lucas mugs of cocoa, making sure the lingering cold leaves as quickly as possible. 

You decide rather quickly that she’s one of your favorite people. You attribute it to the warmth of her smile and the way she’s already asking you so many questions that would usually overwhelm you but somehow feel incredibly special when she asks them.

“I feel like I know so much about you but also nothing at all!” She laughs, dropping a handful of marshmallows into Lucas’s mug, shooing him from the room like she’s his own. “The kids talk about you all the time.” 

“Oh, I’m sure they talk me up quite a bit. I promise I’m not very exciting.” 

“If it were the boys who wouldn’t shut up about you I might believe it, but trust me when I say it’s not easy to impress Max Mayfield.” She settles on you pointedly, not like you’d done something wrong but like you’d cracked some secret code. 

You shrink beneath her prying eyes, unsure you deserve such praise in the wake of recent events. 

“Honestly she’d made more of an impression on me than anything. All of them really, they’re good kids.” 

“Yeah…they are.” She looks far away and you feel like you’re intruding on something, startled when heavy footsteps clunk into the kitchen effectively tearing your gaze from Joyce and hers from wherever it had settled moments before.

You immediately recognize Sheriff Hopper. He’s looking much lighter than usual in a thick maroon sweater and blue jeans rather than the casual professionalism of his coat and badge. But he leaves you no more fooled when you catch the furrow in his eyebrows like he’s especially pissed off about something. 

They even a bit when he catches your eye, the corners of his lips curling enough that you could tell he was trying to smile without straining himself too much. He extends his hand and you meet him halfway, unsure what to expect from him. 

You’d only met a few times, one of those times due to the unfortunate circumstance of an attempted break in. 

Then you weren’t sure what to make of the grumpy sheriff, tales passed around the shops lining the street painting him in various shades ranging from “loveable grump” to “irredeemable asshole”. But standing in the middle of the Byers’ kitchen he seems nice, especially when you accept his outstretched hand and he pulls you in for a short, somewhat awkward, hug. 

“Nice to see you again, Y/n.” He releases you, a heavy hand hunkering down on your shoulder, nearly knocking you off balance. You’d somehow missed the beer settled in his free hand, his carefree mannerisms making a bit more sense, but you’re still no more swayed on your uncertainty of character. 

Joyce is lighthearted when she catches your gaze and her eyes roll playfully. 

“You too, sir.” You watch him stalk around the counter, eyes focused plainly on a dish centering the rest near the stove. His hand is nearly there before Joyce smacks it away. 

“If you’re hungry go drag the kids away from their bickering.” 

~*~

It was difficult for you to think of dinner as an awkward instance. The table was small, your elbows knocking with Max and Mike on either side, but the company was so full of big personalities it gave you little time to ponder the unkempt boy settled at the opposite end. 

You were juggling three conversations at any given moment, Joyce attempting to get to know you while Dustin explained the party’s latest campaign — you’d missed it despite previously promising to sit in — and Max assuring him you couldn’t care less before getting on about her own tales big and small. 

Still you allowed yourself the grace of a few glances in Steve’s direction throughout the meal. He was never looking at you and you couldn’t tell if it was intentional or he was sincerely occupied with whatever Hopper was prattling on about. Perhaps you secretly hoped he'd slipped his own glimpses in the space between yours, that he’s been wondering just as much as you. 

Either way it afforded you the luxury of taking him in completely. Your eyes initially zeroed in on the way his hair traced the tips of his eyebrows, cascading to kiss the apples of his cheeks on either side. His face is lined with rose, like he’s been silently suffocating in the warmth of the cableknit sweater hugging his arms and torso, his hand awkwardly clutching his fork while the other traces a pattern into the pleated tablecloth.

“Can we open presents now?” It’s Dustin, his mouth midway through chewing a piece of candied yam. His insistence was all it took for the rest of the table to nod along enthusiastically, forks quickly scraping along glass plates to scoop the last of their dinner.

Joyce has not a moment to argue before the legs of wooden chairs — varying in shapes and sizes; the one you're currently sitting in has a baby blue cushion and wobbles on one of its legs — are grating against the hardwood. You think it a miracle how they’ve all moved in tandem, gathering around the tree, richly decorated with ornaments both store bought and homemade.

You can just make out one with a photo of Will and Jonathan, whose memory spans no further than polite nods in the hall, nestled cutely in the center of a pipe cleaner Christmas tree and you make a mental note to gently tease Will about his frighteningly consistent fashion sense. 

Your empty handedness strikes you suddenly, presents long forgotten in the trunk of your car. You glance around for your coat and Joyce jumps a bit in your peripheral. 

“Are you okay?” She strides over to you, her hands full with sticky plates. You feel bad that she probably thought you were leaving, taking a moment to consider what sort of reputation you have for these sorts of things. 

“Yeah, dinner was lovely I—”

“Don’t tell me you’re already going?” This catches the attention of a few stragglers, Steve and Dustin who’d been having their own hushed conversation in the far corner. 

“No! I just forgot everyone’s gifts in my car.” Joyce eases the tension in her shoulders glancing at the steadily falling snow out the nearest window. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“Give me just a sec to put these down and I can help, I don’t want you falling over.” She’s already halfway to the kitchen when Dustin pipes up, his hand fisting the lower half of Steve’s sweater, exposing a bit of his torso in the process. 

“Steve will help, he'd be thrilled to help actually!” 

You look away before it's obvious you looked at all, prepared to decline Dustin’s insistence. 

Steve is straddling the few steps between the kitchen and the living room, like he might make a run when you aren’t looking. It almost makes you laugh because it’s the most interaction you’ve had since you arrived and he hasn’t said a word. 

He doesn’t need to. You can see the uncertainty in his eyes tinted the darkest shade of hazel, just a slight glimmer of the lights Joyce has strung up catching in his pupils. 

“It’s fine, I can do it on my own.” You sling your coat over your shoulders, fishing in the pockets on either side until you feel the cool metal of your car key. You whirl in the direction of the front door, startling half a step back when Steve brushes past you like he’s taken your rejection as an act of defiance that simply won’t do. 

You glance at Dustin, but he’s already sauntered off in the other direction, his hands dusting against each other like he’d just cleaned himself of something particularly irritating.

Steve is holding the door expectantly when you make toward him, something akin to agitation tracing the space between his brows. 

“Thanks for the help.” You step into the cold hoping the words don’t sound as foreign to Steve’s ears as they do to yours, all funny and faraway. His hands shove into his slacks and he’s hunched his shoulders so the collar of his sweater is inching up a bit around the bare skin of his neck because he’s foregone his coat. 

“Yeah, sure.” You think he might say more and shrink back toward your car when he doesn’t. You feel embarrassed fiddling with your keys, like there aren’t actually presents in your trunk and you’ve lured Steve into the cold looking for some revelation. “Is the lock frozen?”

You startle, nearly dropping your keychain with the ceramic snowman dangling from the end wearing a billowing scarf and a coal bent smile. You struggle a bit more, heating substantially where you feel your fingers struggling to place the shape of the key into the opening of the lock. “Sorry—”

It’s a toe over the line of embarrassment when you nearly drop your keys into the accumulation of snow beneath your feet. You're about to apologize again when a strong hand clasps over your hesitant ones, Steve’s breath ghosting over your neck.

“Let me.” He grunts, pulling you from your momentary panic, an uncertainty birthed in the way he felt pressed against you. You relinquish expecting him to back away and allow you to give him space, but he simply guides your hand, easily maneuvering until you hear the tiny pop of your back end. “Fuck, Y/n, did you buy the whole store?” 

You can’t help the way you laugh, more like a snort when you consider the way your sinuses are a mixture of frost and liquid cold. There’s no room to deny you went overboard, but you weren’t sure what to get and so you got a bit of everything. You took careful consideration to get at least one gift that made you think of them and the other was more of a Hail Mary in the event they found the first to be odd or in poor taste.

“No…there was a sale.” You lie, tutting when you grab a bag from Steve’s hand, prohibiting his prying eyes from breaching the delicate edges of the wrapping on one of the boxes. “No peeking!” 

“Fine. Can I have a word then?” It’s testing the way he says it, like a parent mocking a child, asking for permission to scold them. You don’t think he means it that way, but Steve has become such a mystery to you. Or maybe you never really knew him at all. “I’m sure we’ve both got some things to say.” 

“Now?” More a question of the cold than the actual conversation. You’re positive Steve won’t be able to feel a single one of his limbs when you step back inside. “I mean…should we start the car? You must be freezing.” 

He considers you a moment, his hand tracing the underside of his jaw with the stiff angle of his thumb and pointer. You don’t wait, shoving the trunk closed. You round to the front seat assuming the dull crunch of Steve’s boots would soon follow. You take a few moments to yourself to breathe deep, fumbling with the ignition then the heat when Steve shuts the passenger door. 

It was easy to forget how quickly Steve can consume you completely. You can still feel his breath on your neck and his cologne is already eating away at the flimsy tree freshener hanging from your mirror. Your nerves haven’t stopped itching since you first laid eyes on him sitting wide-legged on Joyce’s sofa, grumpy and put out at first glance but filled with an underlying current of joy beneath the surface. 

“I haven’t seen you around in a while.” He cuts through the silence and you wonder if it was awkward for him, too caught in your own head to notice. 

“Well I haven’t seen you either.” A childish observation, but one that isn’t untrue. “What are we doing here, Steve?” 

“Honestly? I’m a little confused.” He props his legs on the dash, kicking snow onto the beaten plastic, it looks uncomfortable but you don’t mention it. He looks comfortable, nonchalant, it pisses you off.“We— I kinda thought…” 

“Do you like me at all?” Steve’s eyes widen a fraction then shrink into the most accusing glare you’ve ever seen directed at you personally. Sure you’ve had pissed customers, but this was nothing like that. An attack on his character that he was unwilling to take lying down. 

“Me? Are you serious right now?” You don’t take it back and he laughs, dragging his hand across his face, pushing his feet forward a little more so that dirt smudges your windshield. “I’m not the one who left.” 

“I only left because I thought that's what you wanted.” It sounds lame, especially when the boy who hears them is blinking owlishly then scoffing perturbed. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Do I look confused? Because I’m really fucking confused.” You ache to reach for the radio, dialing it to a random station in hopes something silly plays to make you both laugh. It always works when you have a spat with Eddie. 

But Steve is nothing like Eddie and you don’t think he’d find it as humorous, he’d probably think you’re making fun of him. Not to mention you don’t have those kinds of feelings for Eddie and he’d probably think it was stupid you’re arguing in the first place.

“Why would I want you to leave? I kinda thought we were on the same page.” You don’t agree or disagree because you don’t know what page Steve is on and you think it might be worse to ask for clarification. You feel petulant just sitting and staring out of the windshield, like it's fair to be mad at Steve because he’s right. You’re the one that walked out and now you’re both confused.

It’s like falling into old habits. Placing yourself below this invisible line, the one that convinced you no one like Steve Harrington could ever be interested. Not a tactic of self-doubt, more an improper balance in your perception of reality. 

It’s allowed you to obfuscate feelings everyone around you knows to be true so you could create a caricature of Steve and assuage your own guilt and self destruction. 

“When I woke up and you weren’t there…look we’re not in high school anymore. If you don’t—” He pauses, tosses the words around and drops his feet from the dash. He seems unsure, like he might just open the door and walk right back inside. His neck cranes, lolls on the seat rest until he’s looking at you pointedly. “I bought you a star.” 

“Um…huh?” 

“A star, I bought you one. I don’t have the certificate because I thought it might be stupid and clearly things between us are iffy at best, but I got it after we went stargazing.” You duck, the muscles edging your lips unwilling to fight the bashful way you smile into your coat. 

“Wow. Steve, I don’t really know what to say.” You do know what to say —You’re a sentimental idiot and I’m in love with you— but you can’t find a voice with enough conviction to say it.

“I know it’s cheesy and dumb, but that’s kinda the point right? Because it’s cheesy and sometimes it makes me feel dumb the way I love you and— there it is.” 

“There it is.” You nod, trying your damnedest not to look away from the saucers gaping back at you; glistening with his sudden burst of vulnerability. “I’m sorry.” 

Steve deflates, hand resting on the door handle for the perfect escape. You can imagine him walking inside like none of this happened, playing the part of the babysitter, unshakable in his role as the reluctant feigned role model.

“I’m sorry that I left that day.” You remedy, reaching for his free hand, the one hanging limp near the center console. Your eyes fall there as well, tracing the half frozen skin and hoping he can feel the warmth crawling through your veins from your blood pumping organ. “I guess I just thought it was a one off for you. I didn’t think you were into me and I equated that to getting out while I was ahead.” 

Steve’s hand tightens around yours, you hope in understanding but you’re too afraid to check. 

“Then you avoided me so I avoided you because I thought that’s what you wanted and Lucas said that Dustin said that you said it didn’t matter. So, I thought everything would be fine, awkward but fine and I could get over the fact that I’m stupidly in love with you.” 

You finish, finally peeking up from your intertwined hands. You’re not sure if he caught any of that, it was half mumbled and the words strung together at odd angles. 

Steve’s grin is lopsided, the realization that if anything you’re both idiots but it’s fine because you’re idiots in love. 

“I’m sorry, but I was so obvious.” He laughs pitifully, wondering which of you is worse. “And I said those things to Dustin because I was trying to get over you and he was being a pain in my ass.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing.”

“But I’m—”

“I forgive you.” He hushes, tracing just beneath your lower lip. He glances at the flesh there like he isn’t sure and you give him a moment, breaking the tension when you reach toward the glove compartment. “What are you doing?” 

“I got you a gift too.” It never seems like there’s much in the tiny space until you’re looking for one specific thing, then your whole life is compact and every bit of it is shoved inside.

“You mean mine isn’t one of those fancy ones wrapped in the back?” Steve teases, shifting under your glare to give you more leverage. 

“Shut up, this isn’t a Christmas gift.” Your lip is jutting out and you can feel Steve staring holes into your profile. “It’s in here, I swear.” 

He doesn’t argue, waiting for the sudden moment when you find purchase on the tiny decorative box and straighten with a breathless Ah ha!

“What is it?” His curiosity molds well with the suspicion lacing his tone and you have half a mind to be offended. Instead, you hand it over, no explanation needed until he takes the geometric packaging and delicately pulls the ribbon dressed in the center so it cascades down the sides of his palm. 

He eyes you wearily and you nod toward the box, leaning toward him ever so slightly in your own unbridled anticipation. You’ve shoved your hands beneath you so as not to suddenly jolt forward and do the deed on his behalf. 

“Steve, please.” 

“It’s nothing big, right? You’re not gonna propose or something? Because I’m not ready for that kind of commitment, I’m only just starting to hope we’re on the same page with dating.” 

“Steven!” You swat his arm, his smile charming enough that you smile in return when he catches your wrist, his lips grazing your pulse.

“Alright, alright! We are on the same page with dating though, right?”

“Not if you don’t open the box.” You’ve missed the ability to feel so light with him and you think you’ve cheated somehow, getting back here so quickly. 

You watch him slowly release the lid, discarding it against his slacks. He fishes the fresh band of leather with frightened fingers, tracing the clasp and the initials S.H. that meet like pieces of a puzzle. You try not to be too expectant, you don’t want him to pretend to like it out of some sense of duty.

“What’s it for?” He coughs, voice scratchy and thick where it crawls up his throat. “You said it’s not a Christmas gift.”

“No, it’s not.” You agree, angling your body toward him a bit more. You nudge the hand holding the leather braided bracelet, a silent command which he follows flawlessly dropping it into your own. His fingers trace the edges as if afraid he’d only ever hold it for those few moments.

You wrap it around his wrist, clasping it tight enough to kiss his skin but loose enough that it feels like a part of him, not like it’s suffocating him. You can feel him looking back at you when you trace the engraved clasp, slowly trailing the curve of the S.

“It’s more of a going away gift I guess,” You shrug. 

“Am I going somewhere?” 

“Maybe someday, maybe not. But it’s like a promise that no matter what you have yourself and the belief that you can do good things.” Your finger travels to the H, taking your time with each line, going over it a second and third time. “The H could also stand for Hawkins, your first home, the place you found family, the place that will always be here for you for better or worse.” 

“The place I met you.” He adds, hand finding the underside of your chin so suddenly you don’t think much of it when your faces are only inches apart. “You’re amazing, you know that? I think this is the nicest thing anyone’s ever given me.” 

“I don’t know, Dustin’s birthday gift last year sounded pretty awesome.” 

“I can’t believe all I got you was a star—”

“Hey, I love my star! Don’t you say a word about my star.” You scold,  a sudden thought cropping up. “You do know where it is, right? Like you can show it to me?” 

Steve looks through the dash uneasily, like he is in this moment attempting to find said star in the snow clouded sky. “I’m sure it says so on the certificate. Right?”

“What am I gonna do with you?” 

“You could let me kiss you?” You do him one better, surging forward with a rush of immediacy to kiss him.

It’s different this time around, not the precise movements of discarded clothes and the awkward discovery of how you fit. This time when you kiss it’s gentle but firm, chilly but warm. It’s every feeling neither of you could confidently express in words just yet. 

It’s you and Steve framed by the perfect winter, one that’ll probably leave you both with sniffles and a slight fever in the coming days.

There’s a fishbowl-like tap on the passenger window and you jump apart to a chorus of hooded faces cramped and smushed against the glass. You don’t know whether to laugh or feel mortified they’d caught you. 

“Are you two done kissing? We’re kinda waiting to open presents and you’ve been out here for like a half hour.” Dustin deadpans, clearly not amused in the slightest. 

You decide he’s probably too busy reveling in his genius when you see him and Lucas not-so-sneakily fist bump behind Will’s head. You find Max next and she rolls her eyes but smiles nonetheless, jerking Steve’s door open so the guys can all but drag him out of the car. She takes his place, eying you for a second, ignoring the way El and Robin have both poked their heads so they’re peeking over each shoulder.

“What a year, huh?” She huffs, her tone giving you no real indication on how she feels about the whole thing.

“What a year.” You agree, yanking your key from the engine. As if on cue Lucas appears at your door to retrieve it so they can actually gather presents this time. You can hear the boy’s triumph when they make Steve’s earlier discovery and start debating which gifts they think are theirs.

“Sorry I’ve been so MIA lately.” It’s a poor apology, but you know Max understands for the moment when she hums and glances in the rearview, to Max and Robin, then back at you.

“We hope you know Steve is still not invited to girls night.” 

“Of course not! But I hope you know you’ll be the ones breaking the news to him.” 

#steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington x reader series

[memovia]

RANDOM DAN HENG HEADCANON, CHECK !

TOPIC: STATE OF BEING― COURAGE.

There are many things I want to highlight in this post that mostly concerns my portrayal of Dan Heng.

The similarities in between Dan Heng and Dan Feng are undeniable. From his looks, his weapon to his powers― everything is reminiscent of the previous him, Imbibitor Lunae.

For example, in this previous post here:

Cloud Piercer is his weapon but how much of it IS his weapon? The hesitance to pick it up again after a dream of visions about his past, the slight flinch in his fingers when it rests on the neck of his spear.

He would wonder what are the remaining things that truly defy him. Cloud Piercer is a thing that Ying Xing made for Dan Feng, a thing that was not made for the current him, a thing of the past.

However, his characteristics, his speech and his attitude offers a stark contrast to Dan Feng. Dan Heng can be more abrasive than usual, he is very sharp in terms of his speech and his decisions are much more impulsive. ( But I will talk about this in another post and another time LOL )

What I want to talk about is MOLTING.

Molting is not the same as reincarnation. When you come out from an egg, you are born anew. You get to experience many aspects in life for the first time again. It is clean slate, a blank canvas.

When someone molts, they shed their old skin, their old exterior. But guess what happens next? You grow the skin again, the same pattern and on the same person. The core does not change, the person does not change. If a lizard sheds its skin, does it become a totally different lizard? No. Everything that Dan Feng experiences, his past and his sedition, it is all still in Dan Heng.

A term that I like to use for this sometimes is: Dan Heng has a danger of growing into Dan Feng again. And all of this is also further supported by how many dreams and visions he has had of his past self.

That aspect is very important, but what is the most important thing that I wish to highlight here is this:

At the very core, Dan Heng still holds an aspect of Dan Feng that he will never get rid of. But the most important thing here is the courage that he has to muster. The courage that will allow him to look Dan Feng in the eye, accept it for what it is and continue soldiering on. Yes, the journey will be hard. Yes, there are times where he will struggle to figure out whether it is him or Dan Feng having those thoughts or making those decisions.

But ultimately, what I would find the most fufiling here, is the bravery needed to take the first step. He says he is not Dan Feng. He is not and will never be, but words alone cannot convince himself otherwise. He needs to go on this journey, and the people he holds close in this current life will help him in doing so as well.

So basically, sorry Grandpa Dan Feng let us escort you to your bed. It is Dan Heng time now.

#✧ dan heng. | headcanons. #yeah ok so i properly wrote it after like 3 days #LOOOOL #thanks autumn for letting me word barf onto ur ass #u are sleeping now but i will love u forever

[progressivejudaism]

Rugrats Yom Kippur Episode

Scene: The Rugrats are sitting in the living room, watching TV.

Tommy: I'm so excited for Yom Kippur!

Chuckie: What's Yom Kippur?

Tommy: It's a Jewish holiday where we ask God for forgiveness for our sins.

Phil: That sounds scary.

Tommy: It's not scary, it's just a time to think about how we can be better people.

Lil: I'm going to ask God to forgive me for hitting Angelica.

Stu: That's a good start, Lil.

Dil: I'm going to ask God to forgive me for eating all of Grandpa's cookies.

Stu: That's also a good start, Dil.

Chuckie: I don't know what to ask God for forgiveness for.

Tommy: You can ask God for forgiveness for anything you've done wrong, even if it's small.

Chuckie: Okay, I'll ask God for forgiveness for not sharing my toys.

Stu: That's a good start, Chuckie.

The Rugrats continue to watch TV.

Later that day, the Rugrats are at synagogue.

Rabbi: Today is Yom Kippur, a day of atonement. It is a time to reflect on our actions and ask God for forgiveness.

The Rugrats listen to the rabbi's sermon.

Rabbi: We all make mistakes, but it is important to ask for forgiveness and try to do better.

The Rugrats think about the things they have done wrong.

Rabbi: Yom Kippur is a time to start fresh. Let us all go into the new year with a clean slate.

The Rugrats say goodbye to the rabbi and leave the synagogue.

On the way home, the Rugrats talk about what they learned at synagogue.

Tommy: I learned that it's important to ask for forgiveness for our sins.

Chuckie: I learned that it's important to try to do better.

Phil: I learned that Yom Kippur is a time to start fresh.

The Rugrats arrive home and go inside.

Tommy: I'm glad we went to synagogue today. I learned a lot.

Chuckie: Me too. I feel better now.

The Rugrats go to bed, feeling happy and ready to start the new year.

[Created via Google Bard]

#rugrats #jewish #jumblr #nickelodeon #tommy #chuckie #phil #lil #tv #tv show #script #scriptposting #judaism #yom kippur #high holidays #silly #forgiveness

[blanketorghost]

The three heirs of the Fujisaki Family🪻

Welcome to Ghost's unhinged little multiverse (ghostverse for short) and their first family introduction. Izumi and Nagihiko are characters from the kabuki phantom and shugo chara! Respectively, but I've just given them my own little twist so i can link them to my lil universe hehe

Backstory of the Fujisakis is down below! Minor spoilers for the kabuki phantom pertaining Izumi's past

The Fujisaki (藤咲) clan is a long-standing Kabuki troupe that resides in Tokyo. Known for their draconian training regiments and top-tier Onnagata performers, they've become part of the Kabuki elite.

Despite that, the family fractured into two distinct factions relatively recently, which then poses the question about inheritance.

Two generations ago, the first-born son of the Fujisakis, Hiroshi (寛) came out as gay and was subsequently disowned due to his refusal to enter an arranged marriage to produce a heir.

After being kicked out, Hiroshi started up from the bottom and created his own troupe in defiance, eventually gathering enough funds to even open his own theater.

In the meantime, Hiroshi's younger brother, Nagisa (凪咲) became the head of the family and had two sons; Ataru (陽) and Kamui (奏紫). Ataru, the oldest, was slated to succeed his father, but at 17 he broke down due to the stress and ran away, eventually being taken in by his uncle Hiroshi and building a life for himself outside of the stage.

Ataru would later marry and have two children; Kotonoha (言葉) and Yuu (夕), who would grow up with a minimal knowledge of their father's side of the family aside from tidbits they heard from their great-uncle, which babysat them from time to time.

Unfortunately, though, right when Yuu was a toddler, Ataru got laid off and his family fell into poverty. This forced him to swallow his pride and once again enter into contact with his father, whom agreed to pay for his children's schooling if Yuu started Kabuki training as the next heir.

Yuu was a bright kid, and from a very young age he knew the situation his family was at. So even though he despised practice, he kept silent through his elementary school years.

Once Ataru got back on his feet, he gave the option for Yuu to quit Kabuki, an offer he quickly and gladly took on. This decision would drive the rift further between the family.

With now three heirs having rescinded their roles, the only viable head before Nagisa would die was Kamui; his second and youngest son.

Kamui was already married and had a singular son; Nagihiko (凪彦). Due to the small age difference, Nagihiko and Yuu managed to practice together for a couple of years before Yuu quit, and even though both sides of their family hate each others's guts, the two cousins have actually become quite close, bonding over their shared experiences under their grandpa.

Hiroshi's theater would eventually become quite famous, and with his training as Onnagata, he eventually started accepting apprentices. His most talented prodigée would end up being Izumi (いずみ), a teen actor who ran away from home and the spotlight as soon as he turned 18. His story endeared him and reminded him of his own family struggles. Given Izumi's desire to fully cut contact from his old life, Hiroshi offered to give Izumi his surname for legal documents so he could start over on a clean slate.

Since Hiroshi has no children of his own, Yuu was slated to be his successor, but given his disinterest on Kabuki, Hiroshi eventually decided on giving his Onnagata title to Izumi if Yuu doesn't change his mind. Kotonoha, Yuu's sister, is also slated to inherit half the property alongside Yuu, but given that women don't traditionally take part on acting, she'll mostly take care of the business part of his legacy.

Despite him being no longer recognized by the main family branch as the heir of the family, Yuu wears a Juzu bracelet that has been passed down through generations as a heirloom. Nagihiko holds a replica of said bracelet.

#twst oc #fujisaki nagihiko #shugo chara oc #twst yuu #nagihiko fujisaki #yuu fujisaki #izumi fujisaki #fujisaki family #the kabuki phantom #the kabuki phantom izumi #shugo chara nagihiko #twisted wonderland #shugo chara #art stuff

[nancydrewwouldnever]

This is going to sound like a rant because well it's a rant and I'm getting the worst colds in my life this month and I'm under the effect of powerful meds lmao

First things first. Thank you so much for sharing the beautiful ❤️ picture of your sweetest bestest boy Billy, and very sorry for your loss.

Then, been reading your last posts as well as the one from yesterday (?) about mourning the image Chris had sold and i can't agree more but i have my own take. I hadn't been a fan for long, started around 2019, i never cared about cap or marvel, came to like him because he seemed a decent actor and not too problematic (had heard about his philandering, fuckboi ways, knew about minka & jenny, etc etc) and tbh it's not only the disney pr machine, his interviews where he parrots about wanting a wife and kids without actually doing anything conducive to that, or my own delusions (i don't think too highly of myself lol I'm not a raging beauty or anything special so of course I thought a peasant like myself would never have a chance with Captain all american internet bf), but there were people inside the fandom who were also hardcore promoting that image of him, that he was essentially a nice guy who was looking for stability. I believed those tall tales. I found the lily james stuff annoying already but stuck around. Enters instagram. All i see is young girls (I'm on the older side, therefore too old for grandpa evans) going nuts about likes and follows. Didn't really pay too much attention, i wanted to believe he was better than this. Then along comes Alba. A literal nobody -for reference I'm typing this from Europe, yeah no one knows her here- and all the assumptions i had made about him come crumbling down. She's an unknown and untalented 'actress' who dropped out of hs, not tall or particularly beautiful and the only thing she's good at is looking younger than her actual age and also taking off her clothes. It sounds ridiculous and parasocial yup but there were a couple nights i couldn't sleep because one of my faves had become a total joke in my eyes. I'm staying not even for the dragging but for people like you, maddy, ginger, mar and the female friendships i made on here and insta. I'm repulsed by him. I think he's the typical creep who once they turn 40 they start chasing the young ones to relive their glory days. He'll never find the love he claims to want, cuz prob he doesn't really want it. It's obvious he hasn't grown a bit not even after Slate. He hasn't learned a single thing, about himself, women, life... He'll remain stunted. And i agree with what you're saying about his self-esteem, but he's said arrogance is his biggest flaw so I do think now his 'pissiness' w the fandom and why he doesn't anything only trollba dumps is because he's somehow mad his fans didn't fall for his shit this time, girls found her nasty roles and photoshoots and let's be honest i doubt his hollywood colleagues are impressed with his sugar baby. I don't think he'll ever change or get therapy, which is sad. And i also have the feeling he only went public with this chick because his fans once again caught him with the hand in the cookie jar. So he's still trying to sell that he's a great serious committed bf. Who flies you back in economy, draws stuff on your chin and records you while he makes you look stupid. Sorry for the length of this, i needed to vent

Personally, I don't think it's a hand in the cookie jar situation (because that cookie jar was breadcrumbed from for months before the first NYE trip took place), but don't know exactly how to explain the whole mess.

#ask

[vendetta-if]

Hi! IN LOVE with the game and all the characters <3 They all feel like real people and I love them so much <3🥺 So my question: if the MC choose to be a vigilante, will they have to take down their family? Because being a vigilante is cool, but not as much as uncle Luka and Grandpa to be honest... 👀

Aww 🥰 I’m touched that you like all the characters and you’re worried about going against our dear uncle and grandpa 🥺😭 But, I’m going to assure you that Vigilante MC (and Superhero MC) won’t go against their family.

I know it might feel like MC is pretty customizable but as I said before, MC is not a blank slate and they have some core values and feelings that will always be there for all types of MC no matter what. And one of those is MC’s love and loyalty to the (remaining) family that they have, especially Luka and Ash. There’s no way MC will be willing to go against the only family they have left and that they cling onto, even if they decide to go Vigilante or Superhero.

Moreover, there are soo many other criminals and dangerous powered people running rampant every year in the city that pose more immediate threat to innocent civilians just going about their day; MC’s family don’t actually target random civilians and nowadays, their targets are usually corrupt politicians who are puppets for their rivals. It’ll be those aforementioned criminals and villains instead that will be the focus if Vigilante and Superhero MCs.

Also, it’s fair to mention that superheroes will have even less incentive to go against such a well-connected family like the Morozovs. MC’s family is way above their pay grades 😂 especially when MC’s family can make their and their bosses’ life harder, or worse, MC’s family can buy the majority of shares for the agency and can have the foolish superhero fired, it’ll be a bit hard but not impossible with a little threats and blackmailing. The only reason Luka and Takashi haven’t invested and bought any shares of the Constellation Agency is because of their pettiness😆

#asks #if: vendetta #char: mc #info #if game #if wip #dashingdon #choicescript