#and was a fucking theater kid in high school it’s not that i don’t like musicals

[crazylittlejester]

sometimes i feel like i am the only guy on this app who’s THIS obsessed with LU Warriors but has never listened to epic the musical

[summerhighlandfalls]

When I was younger I thought it was the most embarrassing thing EVER when I thought I had just discovered something and it was actually quite popular. But now that I’m a bit older and thinking about having kids one day I feel solidly over that. If my 13 year old came up to me and wanted to tell me they’d just discovered this cool and sad musical called Cabaret and have I ever heard of it? I would be like tell me all about it kid and wouldn’t feel a hint of second hand embarrassment at most I would feel fond amusement. And before you’re like what a specific event when I was thirteen I went up to my mother and asked if she’d ever heard of Cabaret. So.

[headkiss]

maybe this christmas time

pairing: steve harrington x sunshine!reader

summary: working as an elf during the holidays (which he isn’t a fan of) is not how steve would choose to spend his time, neither is doing a bucket list of your creation. you end up changing his mind.

word count: 9.5k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns for r, some grumpy steve (he’s still a softie underneath it, i can’t help it!), some family issues (a phone call from steve’s mom), a rude customer, christmas activities/themes, fluff, and a first kiss!

a/n: merry christmas and happy holidays from me to you!!! i hope u guys enjoy this one, i had a lot of fun writing it!! big big thank you to @bcyhoods for sending the request that inspired me to write this fic and to @bruisedboys who helped me out when i was unsure about things <333 ily guys i hope u all have the happiest of holidays!

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Starcourt Mall is decorated to the brim. Fake snow and garlands, giant ornaments hanging from the ceiling, a Christmas tree that stays lit all day long.

And, in the middle of it all, Santa’s Workshop.

That’s where you are, where you’ve been for a couple of Decembers now. Every other month of the year, you work at the movie theater, scooping popcorn and scanning tickets. But, for December, you trade in your cinema t-shirt for an elf outfit, striped tights and all.

“It’s really not so bad once you get past the itching,” you tell Steve.

“Great,” he says, the sarcasm clear in his tone.

“Great,” you repeat, cheery enough for the both of you.

He wasn’t sure how it could get any worse than the sailor uniform. That is, until he saw what he had to wear for this gig.

It’s Steve Harrington’s first year at Santa’s Workshop, and you’ve been tasked with training him, though the job is mostly self-explanatory.

But unlike you, Steve didn’t volunteer for this.

“I can’t believe they picked me to do this,” he sighs. “Don’t even like elves.”

“Well they had to pick someone, Steve.” You shrug, “who knows, you might end up having fun!”

“Not likely.”

“At the very least, you’re getting paid, right?” You nudge him once with your elbow, “plus, if you’re extra nice, some moms give pretty good tips.”

You and Steve went to school together, but he never really spoke to you then. It was only after graduation that you had any sort of conversation with him. They mostly consisted of him bribing you with free ice cream to let Dustin and the gang into the movies for free.

That was after you caught him letting them into the back rooms to sneak in.

Now, Steve’s wearing a pair of slippers that jingle with every step just like yours, and in the only two shifts you’ve had together so far, you’ve spoken more than ever. Even if it’s mostly been instructions from you and an unenthusiastic comment in response from Steve.

“Do I really have to wear these fucking shoes?” He asks, following you out of the staff room.

“Yes. It’s part of the uniform.” You turn around to face him, walking backwards while he walks forwards. “Don’t worry, you’ll tune out the jingling soon enough.”

“I’ll hear these jingles in my nightmares.”

“At least you look cute!”

You spin back around, and Steve only rolls his eyes as he trudges on behind you.

Steve’s not quite sure how he feels about you, whether he finds you a little annoying or endearing. At the moment, with an elf hat squishing his hair, he’s leaning a little more towards the first.

He didn’t know you during school. Admittedly, he was an asshole for most of his time at Hawkins High, so that explains that. Even still, he doesn’t know much about you, only that you’re kind enough not to snitch on him for sneaking the kids into the movies and that you seem to seep sunshine all the fucking time.

And your sunshine seems to be dialed up during the holidays. Like you really believe in ‘holiday cheer.’

Steve knows, deep down and buried somewhere he’s not quite ready to face yet, that he’s mostly just jealous. Because if you like the holidays so much, if you’re smiling the way you do so often, you must have it pretty good at home.

To him, nothing else makes sense. Not when Christmas at the Harrington household has been absolute shit for years. First, it was the gifts he never wanted, things his parents didn’t care enough to know he didn’t like. Then, they dwindled until, eventually, Christmas did, too.

There’s a travel discount during the holidays, sweetie. We’re visiting dad’s boss’ cabin. Next year, we promise. Excuse, excuse, excuse.

So yeah, Steve’s never really understood the appeal. Walking behind you in a pair of jingling shoes and a scratchy outfit, he’s not sure he ever will.

You lead him towards the area where Santa’s Workshop has been set up, right by the fountain. There’s bright red carpet rolled out over the usual tiled floors, an area set up for the cue of families, and of course, a bench where some guy playing Santa will sit.

“Since we’re opening today I’ll show you the whole set-up routine.” You step over the rope with the sign that says ‘Gone to feed the reindeer!’ with Steve in tow. “Easy peasy.”

Steve steps over the rope behind you, shaking his head at the sound his shoes make when he lands. He chooses to listen to your voice instead.

“First, we count the props,” you nod over at the bin that’s tucked away behind a small tree, “there should be four sets of antlers, two santa hats, a red nose, and some extra elf hats.”

He stares at you—because why on earth would you have that memorized—and raises his eyebrows. For a moment, as he watches you grab the clipboard that sits atop the prob bin and start counting, Steve wonders if maybe he should be more like you. The kind of person who seems to see the good in everything.

Then, he remembers what the outfit he’s got on looks like and shakes the thought away.

“Why would anyone want to be a clown in these pictures?” He says.

“The red nose is for Rudolph, dummy.”

You say dummy with a smile, like it’s something to admire. Steve huffs.

“Rudolph’s a loser.”

“Aw, come on, he’s got his own song and everything! I’d say that makes him the opposite of a loser.”

“Of course you would,” he mutters, cursing the tiniest twitch of a smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’s next?”

“Right,” you grab the bag that you brought from the staff room and set it on the ground by the tripod that’s already set up. “Next is the camera. Here, I’ll show you.”

The only knowledge Steve’s got of cameras comes from whatever Jonathan has told him, which hasn’t been very much, considering the pair’s history on the topic despite them being friends now.

So, he steps closer to you, watches as you pull the camera out of the bag.

“You just have to switch it on and make sure the battery’s full, right there,” you say, pointing at the small symbol that lets you know if the camera’s charged or not. “And don’t forget to take the lens cap off. I did it once and this dad yelled at me, so...”

You pop the lens cap off, putting it in the bag. Steve’s standing close to you, right behind you, his chin hovering over your shoulder, the warmth of his chest just shy of brushing against your back.

“Finally,” you continue, ignoring the little skip in your heartbeat, the way you breathe just a tiny bit quicker. “Set it up on the tripod, and you’re good to go.”

He watches your fingertips move easily, securing the camera to the tripod. When you’re done, you turn around to face him, and it’s only then that Steve realizes how close he’s gotten.

Close enough that you stumble and land against his chest, his hands on your upper arms to steady you as you pull back quickly, like you’d been burned. Steve, however, doesn’t let go just yet and he’s got no idea why.

He doesn’t let go until the music in the mall is switched on, the opening notes of some Christmas song startling you both. Steve steps back and releases you, dropping his hands by his sides and ignoring the twitch of his fingers.

“Alright,” you say, trying to brush the moment off. “That sound means we’re open. You ready?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope!”

-

Your lunch breaks at Santa’s Workshop feel like a luxury, because no matter how much you enjoy the job, it’s nice to get away from the rowdy children it forces you to deal with.

Unlike your job at the theater, where your breaks are staggered, the workshop closes for an hour every day, meaning that even during lunch, Steve’s stuck with you.

The sign by the line for Santa is flipped, and parents groan whenever they see the festive font saying you’ll be back in an hour.

You take the hour spent in the staff room as a time to ask him questions, what his hobbies are (“does driving a pack of 13-year-olds around count?”), if he likes his job at Scoops (“I’m starting to appreciate it more. The lesser of two evils, or something”), if he’d introduce you to Robin someday (“I’m afraid of what that might do to my sanity.”)

Today, you’re trying to tackle the subject of his Grinch-like tendencies.

“What’s your favorite Christmas movie?” You ask.

Steve doesn’t know why he continues to answer your questions whenever you throw them at him—which is often—but he does. He thinks it might be like being mean to a puppy, ignoring you. Unnecessarily cruel.

“Don’t have one.”

“Ugh. Come on, Steve! Everyone has a favorite.” You slump in your seat across from him at the small table in the break room. Steve stares at you blankly as he takes another bite of his lunch. “You can tell me.”

“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your foot with his when it comes close. “They’re cheesy.”

“Aren’t you secretly a rom-com fan?”

“How did you-”

“So, you actually enjoy cheesy movies!”

“Okay, well you don’t have to say it to the entire mall. Gosh.”

Steve wonders how you know that about him, how you’ve been able to guess a lot of things without him telling you. Briefly, just for a second, he wonders if that might mean something.

Like, if maybe you’re in his life now for a reason.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, Steve.” You smile what you hope is an honest, reassuring smile. “So, the cheesiness isn’t the root of the issue.”

“No, I guess not.”

“I’m gonna take a guess here,” you start, “and say that you’re not a fan of Christmas.”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Steve, I’ve never heard someone complain about jingle bells so much in my life.”

“We can’t all behave like we’ve been injected with sunshine.”

You don’t think he means it as a compliment, but you decide to take it as one nonetheless. But you suppose he’s right, there’s always gotta be a balance. Dark and light, happy and sad.

“Thank you,” you give him a quick grin. “And you’re avoiding the question.”

He’s silent for a moment, twisting his fork around between his fingers. “My parents never really did Christmas.”

Your heart squeezes a little in your chest at his words, at the way his tone goes quieter, at the way he looks at the table to avoid catching your eye.

Immediately, you feel guilty for prying, because the last thing you’d ever wanted to do was force him to tell you something he didn’t want to. It’s not your place, no matter how curious you are, no matter how much you’d like to give him a hug or something right about now.

It’s not your place, but you find yourself wishing it could be.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Steve.” You reach for his hand that sits on the table and give it a quick squeeze before pulling back. “You don’t have to talk about it. I shouldn’t have bugged you.”

“It’s okay. I’ve had a lot of time to accept it.” He shrugs, like it doesn’t affect him. But from the scrunch in his brows, you can tell it does, at least a little bit. “The Harringtons have better things to do than sit around cleaning up wrapping paper.”

Steve feels embarrassed, his cheeks warm and his head bent. He doesn’t like scraping this wound open, doesn’t like to think about what he was missing out on while everyone thought his life was perfect.

He especially doesn’t want you looking at him like he’s injured or something after this.

Surprisingly to Steve, you don’t. You actually do quite the opposite. You smile brightly at him, like you’ve just had an excellent idea, like you can inject a bit of your sunshine into him with it.

“How about this: I’ll teach you how great Christmas can be.”

“I think it might be a little late for that.” Steve tries to shake his admission away, to clear the room. He points at the elf hat on his head, “this outfit has ruined any last shred of hope I had.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you make a cute elf? You pull it off better than I do.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not!” Steve raises his eyebrows at you. You ignore that look. “Whatever. I cannot in good conscience, let you keep disliking Christmas. Think of how fun it could be. Plus, you owe me for all of those movies I let your children into.”

Steve already finds it difficult to say no to you, because of how kind you remain even when he’s snarky with you, because of the same kindness you seem to offer to everyone you meet.

So, even though he’s not sure what your plan entails, he sighs and says: “okay. Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

You cheer, clapping a little in your seat. “Oh my gosh, we can go skating, and go to one of those Christmas light festivals, and make cookies-”

“What did I get myself into?” Steve mutters, while you’re still rambling off ideas.

“-I’m gonna need to make a list.”

Even after your break ends, you seem to have an extra pep in your step, if that’s even possible. Your smile is a bit wider, your eyes brighter, and Steve can’t help but feel a little special for being somewhat responsible for that.

Really, what did I get myself into, he wonders.

-

In the time between him agreeing to your Christmas plans a couple of days ago and now, at yet another shift, Steve has realized that he actually likes you quite a bit. Even though your seemingly constant optimism drives him a little bit crazy.

You treat everyone with an attitude that’s so rare, he finds that his previous annoyance for you is slowly becoming overtaken by the endearment.

He won’t admit it, not when bantering with you seems to be the highlight of his days lately, but Steve is starting to be sort of grateful that he got selected for this job.

And that has absolutely nothing to do with the outfit he wears. He still fucking hates that.

“It’s alright, cutie,” he hears your voice say, all soft and understanding. He finds you, crouched down to talk to a little girl who seems to be wary of Santa. “I bet Santa will give you something extra from your list if you smile for the picture.”

The girl nods, like she’s determined. But, when you stand back up, she grabs onto your hand by your side.

“What is it?” You ask her.

“Can you do it with me?”

You look over to the girl’s mother where she stands to the side, and she nods, eager to get the picture done. So, with that, you say, “okay, then.”

Steve’s standing behind the camera as he watches you help the girl onto the bench beside Santa. Then you’re sitting beside her and telling her to look at the nice boy behind the camera.

It takes him a second to realize you’re talking about him, but when he does, he forces himself into action, bending to look through the viewfinder.

“Say cheese,” he says.

The click of the camera sounds, and then it’s done. You help the girl down, who goes over to her mom quickly and they head over to grab their picture.

Once they’re gone, the line dies down, giving you and Steve a rare pause from the pictures and overenthusiastic welcomes to ‘the North Pole.’

“I hope that family’s okay with my face in their picture,” you say, coming to stand beside Steve by the camera. “I mean, I know the mom nodded, but maybe they’ll cut me out of it.”

You’ve become more comfortable with Steve the more you’ve worked with him, getting to know him in how his grumpiness is more related to the holidays and early mornings than anything else, in how he turns the same grumpiness down when he talks to the kids.

You think he’s grown more comfortable with you, too, because he’s started bringing you a coffee in a festive cup in the morning, leaving it in your cubby without a word.

From Steve, you think that says a lot. His actions have always spoken louder than his words, you think. Like the free ice cream he gives you from Scoops, or the small nod he’d give you whenever he’d pick up the kids from a movie.

And now, there’s the small tug of his lips, the hint of a smile that has you saying, “Steve Harrington are you smiling right now?”

“Shut up,” he shakes his head at you. “That was sweet. What you did for that girl.”

Steve lets himself say what he thinks for once, because there’s nobody else around, because he wants you to hear it.

You hide your shy smile by looking down at your feet. You know that underneath everything, Steve is probably one of the best boys you’ve ever met, because even with his attitude, he’ll never say anything to truly hurt you, and with how little you know about his family, you also know that it’s rare for someone in his situation to remain so good.

Any resemblance of a compliment from Steve feels extra special, like its own gift in itself.

“Ruining her picture, you mean?” You ask, trying to cover up how you feel about him calling you sweet.

“You didn’t ruin that picture, sunshine.”

Sunshine. That’s new.

“Well I’m glad someone thinks so.”

Before Steve has the chance to respond, the line picks up again, and it’s back to business as usual. The routine click of the camera, the sound of parents telling their kids to smile nice and big.

You and Steve catching each other’s eye when a particularly entertaining family rolls around, laughing at the way he does an impression of a mom after she leaves. With work being sort of like this every day, you wish it could be Christmas all year round. You much prefer this to the theater, you think.

Steve can't say that he likes this job more than Scoops—Robin might call him traitorous—but he finds that you’d been at least a little right when you said that it would get better when he got used to things, when he hears the sound of your laugh rather than those stupid bells on his shoes.

He finds that he sometimes has to remind himself that he doesn’t like the holidays, that they aren’t like this all the time.

At the end of your shift, as you and Steve grab your stuff from the staff room, you turn to him, leaning against the wall as he shrugs on his coat.

“So, I made a list,” you say. “We are going to have the best Christmas ever, Harrington.”

“My standards are very low, so it wouldn’t take much.”

“Don’t care. I have plans. We can make gingerbread houses and get Christmas pajamas-”

“Absolutely not.”

While Steve already agreed to letting you show him Christmas your way, he thinks he can only take so much at a time. Small doses of your jolly spirit are plenty.

“Steeeve.”

“I am drawing the line. No Christmas pajamas. Not happening.”

“But the gingerbread houses are a yes?” You ask, hopeful and smiling like it’ll persuade him.

“I’ll get back to you on that one.”

That’s what Steve decides to say, instead of simply agreeing because he finds that he’d like to spend time with you outside of work, to see if you’re really so bright all the time, to see if he can soak it up a little better when he’s not dressed as a damn elf.

That’s what he decides to say because it’s easier than spilling the rest of it out there. Much, much easier.

“But you already agreed!” You pout at him a little, exaggerated dramatics on your part. “You can’t just tell me I can teach you Christmas and then back out, I mean, I made an actual bucket list. With glitter and shit.”

“Oh no, not the glitter,” Steve places a hand on his chest, sarcastically scandalized. “That makes it serious.”

You blink at him, giving him a blank look. “Don’t diss the list. By the end of it, you’re gonna be jolly as fuck, trust me.”

“Jolly as fuck,” he repeats, shaking his head on a laugh. “You’ve got a way with words, sunshine.”

“Thank you.” You push your tote bag onto your shoulder, fishing out your keys, they clink in your palm when you find them. “I’m not letting you back out of this, by the way. The list is binding.”

“Well in that case…”

You give Steve a little smile, the flash of a sunbeam, before heading out, and he’s left standing in the break room wondering what you’ve got on that list, why you seem to care so much about it.

Huffing, he supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

-

Steve definitely should not have told you that he’d never been ice skating before.

It all started when you’d been talking about that damn list at your most recent shift, a couple of days after he’d accepted the fact that he couldn’t back out of it (did he really want to?).

“Hey, you have a change of clothes in your bag, right?” You’d asked him in between families.

“Um… yeah. Why?”

“Because, Steve, our festivities begin today after work!” You clapped your hands together softly, excited and encouraging, yet delicate. “I haven’t quite decided what we’re starting with yet.”

“I thought you had a list.”

“I do! But it’s not in order,” you shrugged, “I’m more of a mood-based decision maker, anyways.”

“Of course you are,” he’d said, his usual sarcasm lighter, laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

“So I’m thinking we go skating-”

“Nope.”

“You can't say no to every idea I have. Then how will you get the Christmas experience?”

“I won’t say no to everything.” You looked at him like you didn’t believe him, so, quietly, he added, “it’s just, I’ve never been skating before.”

“Steve, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” you reassured him easily, your voice honest in a sort of natural way, like you couldn't lie even if you tried. “All the more reason to give it a try. The point is to have fun, not to be good at it. I’m really not that great, myself.”

“If I hate it, we’re leaving.”

“Deal.”

And that’s how he’d ended up here, standing next to you at the rental counter at the ice rink, telling some teenager his shoe size so he could get a pair of skates.

Steve looks at you as you talk to the teenager, paying before he even gets the chance. He looks at the hat you’ve got on your head, the way your jeans are cuffed just enough to let your snowman patterned socks peek out of your boots.

He realizes that he’s only ever really seen you in uniform, at the theater and as an elf, and he thinks, quickly, like a car driving by, that you look really pretty like this. With snowflakes stuck in your eyelashes and all.

Though he’s never said it, barely let himself think it, he’s always found you pretty in a sort of undeniable way, like it was just a fact. Now, he finds you pretty in a way that makes him feel it.

His heart beats like it feels it, too. The traitor.

“Thank you,” you say, grabbing both your and Steve’s pairs of skates. You turn to him, smiling like always, Christmas lights reflected in your eyes, “ready to go?”

“As I'll ever be,” he says, letting you lead the way to the benches by the rink.

He watches the way you tie your skates, copying your movements on his own pair, double knotting the bow at the end. When you stand, he stays seated for a moment, suddenly more nervous than before, because the last thing he wants to do is embarrass himself in front of you, in front of everyone around.

Like you can read his mind, you say, “it’s okay, the first step is only standing. It looks harder than it is, promise.”

“I feel like you’re lying to make me feel better.”

“Why don’t you just stand up and find out, then?”

He rolls his eyes, more at himself than you, and pushes himself up from the bench. It takes him a second to get used to the feeling of the skates, of balancing on them, but eventually, he nods at you, eager to get it over with.

“‘Kay, so it’s gonna feel weird when you step on the ice, but you can just hold onto the side until you get the hang of it.” You start walking ahead of him, turning back to say, “I have a feeling you’ll be a natural.”

“Sure you do,” he mutters, shaking his head.

The rink is outdoors, the walls surrounded with string lights of all kinds, twinkling and colorful. In the middle, there’s a big tree, a shining gold star sat on top. There’s a hot chocolate stand to the side, the smell mingling with the freshness of the cold.

There are Christmas songs playing over the speakers (of course), and Steve thinks that if he hears one more rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock,” he’ll have to invest in a pair of ear plugs. On top of that, there’s the sound of laughter, kids with their parents, friends, couples, everyone seems to be having fun.

Everyone seems to be at ease except for him.

You step onto the rink first, skating a couple of steps forward to give Steve room to get on. He holds onto the side like you told him to, lifting a foot and stepping forward slowly, his foot slipping a little when it hits the ice.

You don’t say anything, don’t pressure him, only stand there with a kindness in your eyes that tells him you won’t be anything but patient.

Still, he doesn’t take too long to get the other foot on the ice, too, his feet carrying him forward a little bit, his hand gripping the side tighter.

“See? It’s not so bad,” you skate to his side, leaving space between you as Steve holds out his arm for balance. “Now all you gotta do is push yourself forward.”

“You make it sound like it’s easy.”

“It’s called being encouraging, Steve. Let me be encouraging!”

“Fine,” he stares down at his feet, his hair falling over his forehead. “So what do I do?”

“Use one foot to push, and then let yourself glide, switch feet, and repeat. You can do it.”

He gives it a go, and finds that it isn’t awful, but he moves slowly, and looking around at the other people skating, he’s not an impressive skater at all.

Steve has always felt the urge to be good at everything he does, basketball, driving, even fucking babysitting. He’s always tried so hard to do things well, like maybe, if he was talented enough, his parents would care more, would finally be proud of him for something.

He swallows that thought down and pushes forward again.

You follow his speed, gliding easily beside him, “look at you go!”

“I look like an idiot,” he says, his arm outstretched beside him, the other gripping the side, his knees bent.

When you look at him, though, all you see is the pink of his cheeks and nose from the cold, the way his hair brushes against his forehead, the focus in his eyes, the determination. No, you don’t think he looks like an idiot at all.

“You look like you’re trying, and that’s a great look on you, Steve.”

This time, it isn’t only the cold that pinkens his cheeks.

He doesn’t have time to muster up a reply, because the next time Steve skates ahead, he stumbles, his balance wavering until he feels your hand grabbing onto his arm to help steady him.

Then, your hand moves to hold his, and even through the layers of both of your gloves, he feels the warmth in his fingertips, some sort of tingling.

“This way, if you fall, so do I,” you say, squeezing his hand once, winking at him like the thought of falling doesn’t scare you one bit.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Super sure.”

You hadn’t been lying on that one, because eventually Steve does fall, and you fall right along with him, landing on the ice with a little, “oop!”

On his back, Steve turns his head to look at you, your hair a mess around you, some on your cheeks. He reaches out and brushes it away.

“You okay, sunshine?”

The response he gets is the sound of your laughter, a single loud cackle that has your eyes widening and a hand smacking over your mouth.

Your laughter fades into a fit of giggles, one so infectious that Steve—surrounded by all kinds of Christmas-themed things he swore he hated—laughs along with you.

And for the first time, maybe in his entire life, Steve thinks that the holidays might not be the worst thing ever.

-

Steve’s in a bad mood today, that scrunch in his brows you'd thought had been easing away back in full force.

It’s your first shift back together since you’d been skating only a couple of days ago, and you can’t help but worry that maybe it was too much, that you’d pushed him too far.

Even though, at the time, he’d been smiling more than you’ve seen him smile maybe ever, and you really thought that you had a shot at making Christmas better for him. You worry that he wasn’t as happy as he seemed, that he was pretending to have fun for your sake.

Steve, on the other hand, is actually glad to be at work for once, glad for the distraction it gives him. He’s unaware that his emotions are so visible on his face, that you think an ounce of his annoyance and anger is aimed at you.

All he knows is that after the morning he had, he needs this distraction.

This morning, it wasn’t the beep of his alarm that had woken him up, but the shrill ring of the phone on his bedside table. Groggy, with his eyes still half shut, Steve picked up the phone.

He wishes he didn’t.

“Hello?” His voice was almost a groan, scratchy from sleep, irritated at being woken up earlier than his alarm.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother’s voice made him squint his eyes shut further. “Why do you sound so tired?”

“‘Cause it’s six in the morning, mom.”

“Oh, silly me. I forgot about time zones,” she said, though she didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. She didn’t even care enough to know what time it was for her son. “Anyways, I’m calling to let you know your father and I won’t make it home for Christmas this year. There’s this banquet we just can’t miss. You understand, don’t you?”

Steve doesn’t know why he’d been surprised, doesn’t know why her words, completely devoid of any kind of empathy towards the situation, made his stomach hurt.

“Yeah, okay,” he’d said, because it was no use to do anything but agree.

This was his normal: an almost monthly phone call from one of his parents from wherever they are in the world, no matter the time, always telling him that they’re missing this holiday, his birthday (which, at this point, he was shocked they even remembered), anything.

“That’s my boy,” she’d said, as if she knew him at all. She didn’t. Hasn’t known him—or cared to—for a long time. “I knew you’d understand.”

“Right.”

“Oh, there’s your father. Gotta go.”

And just like that, she hung up.

Steve almost wishes that they’d never call at all, because maybe then it would be easier to swallow their neglect. If they’d just forget him completely, he could get rid of that stupid, tiny sprout of hope he feels whenever they call, hoping things will be different.

At least it was his mother this time, he thinks. His father is a hundred times worse, only ever disappointed in Steve, asking about his job or when he plans on ‘getting a real life,’ never about him.

So yeah, Steve’s in a bad mood today.

The two of you don’t talk for the majority of your shift, you, afraid that Steve’s angry with you, opting to give him space, and Steve, stewing in every negative emotion that comes along with a phone call from his parents.

You don’t talk until one of the last families in line for the day comes up.

Once the kids are in place, you lean down to look through the viewfinder, counting them down and snapping the picture when they say ‘cheese.’ To the side, the children’s mom looks at you with so much judgment, Steve, even brewing in his thoughts, notices.

With the picture taken, you take the camera over to the mom, letting her see the picture the way you do with all the parents, making sure they approve.

Instead of approval, what you get is, “what the hell is that?”

You’ve dealt with your fair share of rude customers, at every job you’ve had, but this woman all but screams at you, and that’s rare. “Sorry,” you say, “I can take a new one, no problem.”

“I better be getting the new one for free with how these pictures are looking,” she practically hisses at you.

Usually, you can handle stuff like this, can smack on a smile and politely agree to get things taken care of, but today, the mixture of all your self-doubt and worrying about messing things up with Steve and this mother shouting at you, things pile up, and you feel your happy mask slipping.

“Um,” you start, voice small.

“You elves get worse every year,” she says to you. “I can’t believe people this incompetent even exist.”

Steve, hearing the whole thing, is quick to step in front of you, any thoughts about his shitty parents quickly fading in favor of helping you.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but she already offered to take another picture, and if that isn’t good for you, you’re free to leave,” Steve’s voice doesn’t slip one bit, standing his ground with every word.

You’re overwhelmed with everything going on, and when Steve turns around to look at you, nodding his head towards the staff room, you take the escape he offers you quickly, eyes blurry with tears you won’t let fall until you’re alone.

“You can’t speak to me like that!” The woman stomps her foot.

“I can, actually. She,” he points in the direction you’d gone, “is the kindest person I know, and you shouldn’t speak to her that way. I understand the holidays are a stressful time for everyone, but we spend all day helping people like you take these pictures, and the least you could do is say ‘thank you.’”

Rather than respond, the woman takes her children’s hands and stomps off.

Steve turns to find that the few families that had been in line before have decided to leave, and he takes the emptiness of Santa’s Workshop as an opportunity to follow after you.

He finds you sitting on the bench beneath your cubby in the break room, head buried in your hands, sniffling a little like you’re trying to be as quiet as possible. Steve can’t think about anything other than how much he hates seeing you upset, like a cloud covering the sun.

“Hey,” he says gently, sitting beside you on the bench. “Don’t listen to any of that. She was a bitch.”

You’re both grateful and unhappy that Steve came after you. Grateful because he’s kind, because he’s showing you that he cares. Unhappy because you’re embarrassed of him seeing you like this, because he calls you sunshine and you don’t feel like that right now.

It takes a second before you move your hands, wiping at your cheeks before turning to look at Steve, his brown eyes already on your face, unbelievably soft.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” he assures you. “She was awful to you after a long enough day. You have every right to be upset.”

“You’re being really nice,” your voice breaks a little bit, fighting any more tears that threaten to spill.

“I can be nice. I should be nicer to you.” He knows he should, but with Christmas and everything, it’s easy for him to be grouchy. “You sound surprised.”

“It’s just,” you shrug, almost defeated. “I thought you were mad at me today.”

Steve’s heart fucking aches at the sound of your voice, all small and lacking of the light he’s somehow come to like so much. And when another tear slips down your cheek, he can’t stop himself from reaching out and holding your face in his hands, thumbing the tear away lightly.

“I don’t think I could ever really be mad at you, sunshine.”

“Oh.”

His hands are warm where they hold your cheeks, a thumb still tracing back and forth over your skin. Not mad, then.

“I, uh,” Steve looks at where his thumb brushes against you, like he can’t believe it’s there, like he doesn’t want to look into your eyes for the next part. “I got a call from my mom this morning. They’re not coming home this year. Again. I shouldn’t be surprised but… anyways. That’s why I’ve been so quiet and shit today. Not because of you.”

One of your hands comes up to lay over his where it sits on your cheek, tangling your fingers with his and moving your hands down to your lap.

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t take this stuff out on you just because you like Christmas and I don’t.”

You smile a little bit, a twitch of your lips, but Steve takes it as a win all the same.

“I’m gonna change that,” you say.

“Sure you will,” he replies, the sarcasm in his voice still there the way it usually is when he teases you, but this time, he’s smiling, too.

-

Steve told you to go home after that, assuring you that he’d take care of the few families left, and when you’d opened your mouth to tell him you were fine, you could stay, he’d pinned you with a look and told you again to let him do it.

So, you did.

You’d thought it would be a day at least until you’d see Steve again, but it’s only a couple of hours after your shift ends.

There’s a knock at your door, your apartment one of the ones built above a shop on Main Street, and even though you have no idea who it could be, you get up, sock-covered feet padding against the floor as you go over to answer it.

You’re surprised to find Steve on the other side—one, because you don’t think you’ve ever told him where you live, and two, because you didn’t think he’d want to see you more today than he already had—a bag in his hand and a shy sort of question on his face.

“Steve? What are you doing here?”

He scratches at the back of his neck with his free hand before responding, a nervous gesture that he hasn’t been able to get rid of. “I thought that maybe, after the day you’ve had, you could use some cheering up. I could, too.”

You remember him telling you about the phone call from his parents, and something in your stomach flutters a little when you realize that his plans to cheer up involve you of all people.

“Okay.” You smile, you can’t really help it, “come in, then.”

He does, closing the door behind him and toeing off his shoes before stepping inside any further. Steve spots your kitchen table easily, and moves to set the bag he’s holding down.

“I thought we could do another thing that might be on your list,” he says. Steve tugs things out of the bag, gingerbread house kits, to be exact. “Gingerbread houses are Christmas bucket list worthy, right?”

“Absolutely,” you search his face, a little confused because last you heard, Steve was not into your whole bucket list thing, but here he is. “And you’re doing this… voluntarily?”

“I have the receipt. I can return them, if you prefer.”

“No! Don’t do that. I just mean- I thought you didn’t like Christmas or my list and that you were just playing along to be nice.”

“I might not be the biggest fan of Christmas, but,” he shrugs, opening one of the boxes of gingerbread, “you’re a good teacher, sunshine.”

You resist the urge to pinch yourself, like you might be dreaming because Steve, who you’ve grown to like an embarrassing amount, is here, offering to do this with you and giving you a compliment like it’s nothing.

When you respond, you hope your voice doesn’t give away how you really feel. Excited, happy, your heart jumping. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Shut up.” He shakes his head, pointing to the unopened box, “now will you come build this gingerbread house or what?”

“Mine’s gonna be way prettier than yours.”

Steve simply rolls his eyes, but there’s the hint of a smile there, too. He’s happy to see that your light is back, that you didn’t let what happened at work get to you too much.

You sit down beside each other at your table, gingerbread kits laid out in front of you. Icing and sprinkles, a cookie roof and chimney. You’re sure it’ll leave a mess, but right now you don’t mind.

There’s a sort of lightness in the air, the knowledge that this thing—friendship, more, whatever it is—between the two of you is something that you’re both happy to bask in. It’s unspoken, and that doesn’t bother you.

You and Steve start by unpacking all of the pieces, yours laid out neatly, his in a leaning pile that makes you bite back a laugh.

“The fucking roof won’t stay on,” Steve says once you’ve both started to put the houses together, and he sounds genuinely annoyed about it.

“Just put some more icing on it,” you say, “there’s no such thing as too much.”

“I don’t think icing will save me now, sunshine.”

You look away from your own gingerbread house over to Steve’s. His hands are holding the roof up, pushing them together so they meet at the top, and he’s staring at the thing with so much determination that you can’t help but giggle.

“You laughing at me?” Steve quirks a brow at you, but there’s a shine in his eyes. They smile even when his mouth doesn’t.

“I can’t believe you’re taking this so seriously,” you laugh, and that smile of his spreads slowly on Steve’s face, blooming like a flower. “It’s alright to admit defeat, Steve. My house is already better than yours.”

“Woah, this isn’t over yet, alright? Mine just needs time, don’t you worry.”

“Whatever you say, Steve.”

“Someone’s feeling brave tonight,” he teases, nudging you with his elbow without letting go of the roof of his house. “Don’t speak too soon, sunshine. I could be the underdog here.”

You lean over with your icing bag in hand, piping some more into the gap in Steve’s roof. “Here, let me help.”

Steve—always reluctant to accept help of any kind, even the smallest things—lets you. While he watches your face as you pipe the icing, the focus, the way your tongue pokes out from between your lips, you take his distraction as an opportunity to move, letting your icing fall onto his hand instead of the house.

“Oops,” you shrug, your tone suggesting that it wasn’t a mistake at all.

Steve gasps overdramatically, then leans closer to you, “Oh, looks like you’ve got something right there.” His hand reaches for your face, and he spreads the icing from it onto your cheek.

“You’re done for, Harrington.”

He only laughs, bright and quick.

Before you know it, you’re having some sort of food fight, putting a dot of icing on Steve’s nose, him tossing sprinkles at you. It’s a mess, but all you can hear is Steve’s laughter, all you can see is his smile. Unguarded for once, free and genuine.

By the time it dies down, there’s stripes of icing on your cheeks, red and green sprinkles scattered about the floor and on the table, and Steve’s got his own patches of icing to deal with.

“You better help me clean this, Harrington,” you say, your giggles still spilling, fizzling out softly. “What are we gonna decorate these houses with now?”

“Mine’s a lost cause,” he admits, the pieces now in a pile the way they’d started.

“So I won, is what I’m hearing.”

Steve looks at you, at the sparkle in your eyes that had been dimmed earlier at work, at the smile that spreads across your face when his eyes meet yours. Fuck. He thinks you’re completely beautiful, icing across your face and all.

His gaze snags on a piece of green in your hair, and before he can think about it, he reaches up and tugs it out for you.

“Sprinkle,” he says.

You look at his hands, messy from the gingerbread houses but never any less strong, and you remember how they felt in yours when you’d been skating. And when you flick your eyes back to his face, he’s already looking at you, gaze dipping to your mouth quickly, like he can’t help it.

And shit, you think. You really, really like this boy.

Before either of you can say anything more, you’re leaning towards each other, meeting in the middle and you’re not sure if you kiss him or he kisses you, but you end up with your mouths pressed together.

It’s featherlight at first, testing the waters. Then, Steve’s hands cup your jaw gently and pull you back to him, and you wouldn’t dream of doing anything but follow.

He kisses you again, still soft somehow, but more certain, his lips dancing with yours like you’ve done this a hundred times before.

You reach up and grasp his wrists in your hands, feeling his pulse under your thumbs. His heart is racing just as much as yours, you notice. Like your heartbeats have synced to a twin pattern, like this kiss was enough to do that.

And while you’re not sure what will happen after this, you know that something has shifted, that both of you are saying things you’re too afraid to say out loud.

When he pulls back, Steve presses one, two more pecks to your mouth, his thumbs tracing over your skin so lightly you might’ve dreamt it.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever think about kissing the same way after you. Steve feels warm the way he does when the sun beams on him in summer, and quickly, he thinks, I could get used to this feeling.

Then, he gets up and finds a small towel in one of the drawers by your sink, wetting it with warm water before coming back to sit with you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, using a finger to tilt your chin up, swiping the towel over your cheeks to get rid of the icing there as lightly as he can.

And that’s that.

-

December twenty-fourth is your last day at Santa’s Workshop. Christmas Eve snuck up quick, and tomorrow, the twenty-fifth, the mall will be closed.

You’ve always enjoyed the job, but this year’s been your favorite by far. Usually, you and your coworkers would get along just fine, talking during shifts and laughing but never expanding outside of work, but it’s completely different with Steve.

He knocked on your door with gingerbread houses in hand and kissed you like it meant something. You like him so much that it’s in your bones, this feeling he brings out of you, how special you feel when you think about the trust he’s shown you.

But looking back, you think you were screwed from the start. From his scrunched brows asking you if the bells on the elf shoes were really necessary, to confiding in you about his parents, that list you made that seemed to be the beginning of what things have grown into now.

Green elf hat lopsided on his head, Steve smiles at you from where he stands by the camera. You smile back without thinking, like it’s natural, an instinct.

“Alright,” he says, talking to the kids sitting on the bench with Santa. “Everyone say ‘cheese’ on three. One, two-”

“Cheese!”

The camera clicks, and then it’s onto the next, the system you and Steve have created moving along smoothly, family after family.

If someone told Steve when he’d started this job, grouchy and prepared to pout about it every day, that he’d grow to like it, that he’s realized he’ll miss it when it’s gone, he would’ve laughed in their faces.

Never in a million years did Steve think he’d come remotely close to enjoying being an elf, but he has (he still fucking hates the outfit, though). You have everything to do with his surprising not-so-hatred of the job, of his careful fondness growing towards the holidays.

It’s all because of you.

Christmas Eve is a busy day at Starcourt mall, parents rushing about for last minute presents, teenagers taking advantage of holiday sales, and families lined up for their Santa pictures they’d forgotten about until now.

You don’t get breaks between families often today, but once you do, you and Steve are next to each other, making imaginary backstories for random people that pass by, dramatically reading lips of conversations.

The next time there’s an opening, you walk over to Steve, holding up your fist as if there’s a microphone in it. “So, Steve, tell me, how does it feel to have survived December as a Christmas elf?”

“I feel like I should get an award, maybe,” he says into your fake microphone. “I’ve gotten two rashes from this scratchy outfit. Two! And I’ll never hear jingle bells the same again.”

You laugh before clearing your throat and getting back into your news anchor character, “wow. You heard it here folks, North Pole outfits are not luxurious.”

“No, they are not.”

Steve can’t help but grin as he looks at you, as he jokes around with you so easily it feels like he’s known you for years instead of a month. He supposes he has known you longer, but never the way he does now.

“Now, will you be returning to Santa’s Workshop in future Decembers, mister Harrington?”

“Well, that depends,” he says. “I think I’ll require a certain presence to be with me if I come back. Can’t survive it without my doses of sunshine.”

My doses of sunshine.

You’ve never reacted to words the way you do with Steve, but when he says things like that, how can you not react? He compliments you in these indirect ways that only you could understand, and this secret language of yours has your heart skipping, your world tinted-pink.

That one makes you break character, “really?”

“Really.”

Looking up at him, at those soft, melting brown eyes that have always told you more than anything else about him, at the fondness in them, you think about that kiss.

You haven’t spoken about it, but you haven’t felt the need to. It meant something, you know that much, and by the way Steve sneaks touches—a squeeze of your hand, a palm on your back—he does, too.

“You make Christmas better,” he tells you.

He leaves you with that as the next family walks up for their picture, but you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you, his gaze spreading sparkles over your skin.

It’s hard to focus when all you can think about is him calling you sunshine in that soft voice of his he’s only used when you’re alone, but you have to, so it’s back to work you go.

You don’t get to speak much again until your shift is over, the Christmas Eve evening rush swooping in and keeping you both busy.

It’s bittersweet, walking to the back room for the last time from Santa’s Workshop. You’re excited for tomorrow, because it’s Christmas and it’s one of your favorite days of the year, but it’s hitting you now how much you’ll miss seeing Steve nearly every day.

You’ll still see him, of course you will. Whether it’s him getting you to help sneak kids into a movie or maybe something more, something for just the two of you. Either way, you’re at least sure of one thing: Steve Harrington is one of the best people you know.

He’s the first to speak as you step into the staff room. “I have something for you,” he says.

Steve scratches the back of his neck, the smallest hint of pink on his cheeks. He’s nervous, and it’s the sweetest thing. He reaches into his bag, pulling out a small box, a white ribbon tied in a bow around it, a little lopsided, like he’d tied it himself.

You take it from him, smiling down at the box, because no matter what’s in it, he cared enough to get you a gift and that’s what matters, that’s what you’ll hold onto.

“Really?”

“Open it, please.”

You listen, tugging the ribbon loose and opening up the small box. Inside, you find a delicate chain, the pendant in the shape of the sun.

“Steve.” It comes out in a breath, your eyes welling the tiniest bit because this is the best gift you’ve ever received. He’s a gift himself, looking at you shyly, searching your face for a reaction.

“Do you like it?” He asks, his voice soft. “If it’s too much I can-”

“It’s perfect,” you say, and you mean it. “Put it on for me?”

He flashes you a grin, the corners of his mouth tugging up as he nods and takes the necklace from you, undoing the clasp as you turn around and move your hair out of the way.

You can feel his warmth against your back as he drapes the necklace over your collar, his fingers brushing the back of your neck as he fiddles with the clasp.

“There you go,” he says, taking a small step back to give you room to spin back around to face him.

You look down at the sun pendant sitting against your skin, touching it lightly. Steve’s actions speak volumes, and this one makes you feel so many things. But above it all, you feel like his.

He watches your face as you look at the necklace, the slope of your nose and the softness of your cheeks. The flutter of your lashes and the smile you don’t even try to hide. He’s been resisting the urge to kiss you since he’d done it the first time, but it’s stronger than ever now, with his present around your neck.

Your eyes meet when you look back up at him, his brown ones never failing to show how he feels, and your heart skips with how he looks at you. Like he cares, like he doesn’t intend on stopping.

He brushes your hair over your shoulder, fingertips gentle as ever when they brush against the side of your neck.

“I love it, Steve, really. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sunshine.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything, I didn’t expect-”

“Hey,” he cuts you off, his hand shifting to hold yours, fingers lacing with yours easily, “you’ve given me so much.”

Steve doesn’t know how he got lucky enough to get paired with you for this job, how he got lucky enough to have someone look past his slight grumpiness and really see him. You’ve given him Christmas as a whole, erasing bad memories, replacing them with new ones, and he doesn’t think any present could repay you for that.

“Oh wait!” You squeeze his hand before letting go and heading towards your bag, digging until you find what you’d been looking for. You hand Steve a folded piece of paper, “you should have this.”

As he unfolds it, he realizes it’s the bucket list you’d made for him what feels like forever ago, glitter and all. There are activities with check marks beside them, the ones you’d completed, and he shakes his head with the smile he seems to only wear when you’re around.

Very last on the list, your handwriting spells out words that make his chest feel light, his heart full.

‘Make next Christmas just as good.’

Steve finally stops holding himself back and kisses you for the second time, and you’re both certain it won’t be the last.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed, please please consider leaving a reblog or comment and let me know what you think! it would mean a bunch <3

[alphajocklover]

I’ve always been a nerdy guy and did theater in high school. But I always wished I could be a big hot jock. Do you think you could send me back and make me a huge muscular horny wrestler jock or something?

You want me to send you back? As in, take you back in time, or as in deage you back to highschool age? I’m going to be honest, I really hope you’re just asking me to deage you, because time travel can get so fucking complicated. Plus, being a teenager today is a lot better than being a teenager in the past. Obviously not everything is better than it was before. There's been an increase in school violence overtime, and well I can’t prove it, I swear to god that they give kids more homework every year. But if you went to the past you wouldn’t have the internet or social media, and I have a feeling those are going to come in handy later. So, let's just deage you. 

You might notice you’re not actually that much younger. You were 22 before, right? Well I know you probably wanted to be deaged into a freshman and experience all of highschool as a hunk, but as a rule I don’t transform anyone under 18, and that includes deaging someone to be under 18. 18 is the lowest I’ll go. Plus, everyone knows senior year is the best year of high school. There's less stress, more fun, and unless you’re a major loser you’re automatically cooler than anyone in the grades below you. And you, the new you, are anything but a loser. See, while I won’t deage you past 18, I can still change your past. In this new reality I’m creating for you, you’re not a theater kid. You’ve never been anything close to a theater kid. You’re not even just a wrestling jock. You’re a fucking wrestling prodigy. You’ve been huge, incredibly huge, ever since you were a kid. No ones quite sure how it happened. One day you just started to shoot up and out, and never seemed to stop. Your middle school wrestling coach noticed your potential, and ever since you’ve been dedicated to wrestling. As time has gone on you’ve only gotten larger and larger. Most kids who go through an early growth spurt end up small, but not you. Every year you get taller, hairier, and beefier. Every year you get fucking better, and you’re well aware of it.

Now, you’re an 18 year old stud, the big man on campus. You dominate the ring, and everywhere else you go. You’re the kind of guy who gets anything you want by virtue of your being. The kind of guy who has been worshiped by the school, students and teachers alike, because of your athletic prowess. The kind of guy who fucks a twink in the locker room after every wrestling practice. You’re exactly the manly, horny, wrestling jock you used to fantasize about being. The kind of guy who would never have paid attention to someone like the old you, because he’s just that worthless in comparison.

I hope you enjoy your new life. I set up an instagram account for you to show off your amazing self. I figured you’d do great on instagram, and from the amount of likes your first post is getting, I can safely say I was right. Enjoy your new life. Soon you’ll outgrow this small town and highschool and go on to rule your college with a manly iron fist. I can’t wait to watch. **Hey guys! Been a bit! Got really busy but don't worry, I'm keeping at it with this blog. Hope you guys like it!**

[theballadoflucygraybaird]

making the argument that Oliver doesn’t like Lou as a gotcha for bucktommy not lasting (which okay?? they’re canon I already have what I want) is so fucking hilarious to me for so many reasons, but I was a theater kid both in high school and in college and do you know how many of us in the casts just could not stand each other and we still put on great performances? I don’t give a shit if the actors get along or not because at the end of they day they have a job to do and those fictional characters they’re playing are all I care about

but theres also nothing that backs that claim either, your parasocial relationship with this man is so strange to me

[medusapelagia]

01 He's back

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: Second chances) and @augustwritingchallenge(Prompt: Canon Divergent) Rating: M Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: mention of blow jobs Words: 1420

"Come on, Eddie! It's the Championship game!" Steve sighs, trying to help his secret boyfriend to be reasonable. Lucas has joined the basketball team and the final game is due on the same night as their game night.

"I don't care if it's one of your jocks' sacred rituals, it's Hellfire's night,” Eddie replies, shaking his head in disdain, “Lucas knows it and if he doesn't want to miss it he has to come to the theater room. If he doesn’t want to, it's not my problem."

"But you know that's important for him!" Steve insists, looking lazily at Eddie pacing front and backward.

"And the Hellfire is important to me! And to Gar! And Jeff! And Freak… even fucking Mike Wheeler knows that's important and that kid is always on the phone calling his stupid girlfriend. But not on Fridays! No sir! And guess why?”

“Because it’s Hellfire night,” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Exactly! Because. That. Is. Hellfire's night!" Eddie emphasizes, throwing his hands in the air like it was a great revelation.

"Can't you move it just for one time? It's the final game!"

"Are you fucking crazy? It's spring break! I can't organize a game night on spring break! And next semester I'll be too busy studying, because Edward Munson is going to be the first fucking Munson to graduate in his family, ok? I don't care what that prick of the principal thinks about me! 1986, baby! It's my year!"

Steve smiles softly, he does love Eddie’s enthusiasm and his commitment to the Hellfire club, but he would really like to help Lucas. They have trained together all summer to make sure he made it through the tryouts and even if he never played a game Steve knows that being there is important to be part of the team. He lets out a long sigh, rubbing a hand through his hair, "Come on, Eddie! I'm sure that dedicating one night of your studying time to Hellfire’s Club during the next semester isn't going to fuck your plans to graduate."

Eddie stops in his tracks, his eyes wide with anger, "You don't get it, Steve. It's my last game, ok? The last time I'll DM for the Hellfire. After that, I'll leave my legacy to the younger generation. It's a big deal. And it's important to me! If Lucas knew he would be busy he shouldn’t have joined the laundry basket team."

"Hey, low blow." Steve frowns.

"Fair. Sorry. Not cool. Still. If he knew he wasn’t able to come he should have asked to move the game night. But no. I found out, thanks to you, that the traitor isn't going to attend the last day of the Cult of Vecna Campaign. He didn’t even dare to tell me!"

"First of all, if Lucas told you would have scared him to death. And what's most important is that he couldn't have asked you ahead because there was no way he could have known that the team would have made it to the final! I mean, I was there at every game and I wasn't really optimistic. When Hargrove and I were on the team, things were different, but this year the coach had to do a great job of replacing all the players who graduated and adding new members to the team. It isn't easy, you know?"

"You are talking to me about things that aren't easy? I took your little sheep under my wing. I showed them the ropes of high school! I protected them from bullies… and how do they repay me? With treason!"

"You're being way too dramatic. Is there a way I can convince you to move Hellfire's night? Baby? You know I'd do anything for you." Steve tells him, falling onto his knees and crawling toward Eddie who looks at him with desire.

"You drive a hard bargain, Harrington. Are you saying you'll do whatever I'll ask you to?"

"I will."

"Even if it's something you always refused to do?"

Steve frowns, confused wondering if Eddie could ask him to do something that's a hard no for him. They talked about their limits, deeply, and he thinks he will respect his decisions but…

"Don't look so scared. I have a meeting with Chrissy Cunningham tomorrow. She wants to buy drugs. Yes, I know what you think about drugs but she's eighteen, ok? And she scares the shit out of me. I told her I would have seen her here at the trailer after Hell… after the Championship game. If you promise to be at my place and protect me from the mean cheerleader I might consider moving the Hellfire night after spring break. Oh, and I still want that blow job you seemed to be so willing to offer."

"You know what, I'll make you even a better offer: one blow job now and one after you see Chrissy, to calm your nerves."

"That sounds good."

***

Steve is hiding in Eddie's room. Well, not really hiding, he's just waiting for his boyfriend to get back. He was so anxious about this meeting with Chrissy, as if the sweetest girl alive could have ever been mean to anyone.

The familiar crunching sound of the van's tires rolling on the gravel tells him that Eddie is back even before he slams the door open announcing that the princess is visiting his humble abode. Steve chuckles between himself, his boyfriend is always so dramatic. Hearing him digging, looking for drugs in the trailer, Steve sighs. He doesn't like that Eddie sells drugs but Eddie promises he'll quit the business soon and that if Chrissy decides to take the drugs he'll stay with her to make sure her trip is a good one.

Chrissy and Eddie are chatting in the little living room and Steve is already bored out of his mind, so he starts to take a look at the tapes spread out on Eddie's bed, knowing that between them there's the demo Eddie and the boys are so proud of. Gareth's cousins know someone who knows someone who might be interested in the demo and they are super excited about it. Steve wants to have a taste of their music, so he puts the tapes in the stereo and scares himself to death when a loud music comes out from the speakers.

He should have known that Eddie always keeps his stereo at the maximum volume! He gets closer to the stereo to lower the volume when he realizes that the screams aren't coming from the tape. Or at least not the female's one.

Steve slams the door open and sees Eddie floating on the roof of the trailer, his eyes white and empty. Steve never saw something like that before but he has seen a few strange shit in his young life and that's a code red. He grabs his walkie and gives it to Chrissy, "Push the button and tell that's a code red!" he yells, while he tries to pull down Eddie from the ceiling.

"Come on, Eddie! Get your stupid ass back here." He curses, while Chrissy keeps screaming in the walkie-talkie. Someone might have answered because the trailer's door slams open once more and Max is standing in the living room, asking questions Steve has no answer for.

In the background the Corroded Coffin's tape keeps playing, changing from a screaming song to a sort of slow ballad.

Max has taken hold of the walkie talkie and she's describing what's going on to the others who are trying to find a way to get to the trailer to help. when finally Eddie opens his eyes and falls on the ground, but Steve is there, ready to cushion his fall.

"Steve... are you real? Are you really real?" Eddie asks, touching Steve's face with trembling hands.

Steve catches one of his hands, keeping him tight to his chest, and kisses the long fingers with affection.

"I'm real. You're good. Everything is good."

"I saw a monster, Steve! A real one! He was hunting me down and then… then I heard our song! And I saw you! And I ran to you." Eddie tries to explain while catching his breath.

"You did good, babe. You did well." Steve reassures him, rocking him back and forward.

When the walkie-talkie cracks alive again and Dustin's panicked voice asks what's going on, Steve grabs the walkie-talkie and replies, "He's back."

And none complains about the fact he didn't say: over.

[marvelobsessed134]

How perverted Vince would be with his innocent reader

Perv!Vince headcannons

I just decided to make this a headcannon post that will fuel my future perv!vince fics

Warnings: smut, perv!vince (obviously), innocent!reader, age gap(but the reader is of age and two years younger than Vince (I imagine theater of pain era Vince but you can imagine whatever you want) just a lot more innocent than him obviously), possessiveness, manipulation, corruption, innocence kink, reader is called a sorts of silly pet names she doesn’t understand lol and I think that’s it

First off, the two of you met in high school. You were a sophomore while he was a senior which obviously in retrospect isn’t okay but you didn’t know! Plus he only said he wanted to be just friends

Of course you didn’t know his true intentions or the fact that your meeting was pre-planned by him. He’d been watching you for awhile enamored by your innocence and beauty. He figured out your whole schedule already and planned a perfect way to “accidentally” run into you

Now you’re super close and you spend every waking moment together. Vince fears if he lets you out of his sight something bad might happen to you, or worse, another man gets you before he can. So he likes to keep you close and is very protective and possessive

But it goes all over your pretty head and you just blindly agree with everything he does and says to you because he’s older than you and knows what’s best for you

And the pet names, oh the pet names

You don’t understand why Vince calls you bunny cause you’re obviously a human

But he calls you that cause you’re so gullible like a bunny in a field out in the open unaware of the wolves and other predators that are lurking

Finally after two whole years of friendship he finally made a move on you

When he kissed you you didn’t know how to react you’ve never been kissed before at all but you tried your best to kiss him back

Vince taught you everything you needed to know about being a girlfriend and what it entails.

Of course what all he said wasn’t 100% true but that’s what made you so easy. You’d believe anything he told you

And slowly but surely he even got you to sleep with him

And god, if he could tie you to the bed forever to just fuck whenever he wanted he would so do that

Like you’re just so perfect for him

When he introduced you to the guys he had been very protective and threatened to leave the band if anyone messed with you

Which you would think wasn’t a good threat but in the beginning of Mötleys career and struggling, that was a pretty big threat.

Also he threatened to kill them as he pulled out his pocket knife and flaunted it to everyone

Holy shit I made Vince a psychopath here but it’s whatever it’s hot

And soon you’re married and you have kids. He has you be a stay at home mom which you don’t mind

Vince never cheats on you surprisingly. He doesn’t want to risk you running away from him

But most importantly, you are in love

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Safe In Your Dreams

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.3k

Warnings: angst, major character death, fluff

Summary: You don't know what you have until it's not there anymore.

Square Filled: drowning in their sorrows for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

“Come on, if we hurry, we might make it before the trailers are over,” you giggle.

“Are you sure we should be doing this? I have money.”

“And give it to those corporate assholes? You know barely any of the money goes to the theaters. They all go to the production company that makes the movies. I’ve done this once or twice. They don’t care if you sneak in. All they care about are their popcorn and food sales. That’s why they’re priced so high. That’s how they make their money.”

Spencer looks unsure about sneaking into a theater, and you yank open the back door with a smile.

“We’re gonna get caught.”

“Sure, with that attitude. Just tilt your chin up and pretend like you know where you’re going. Works every time.” Still, the unsure look doesn’t leave Spencer’s face. “If it really means that much to you, we can do it the normal way and go through the front.”

Spencer might be part of the FBI but who doesn't indulge in a little rebellious act every once in a while? Spencer takes your hand with a smile and steps toward you.

“Lead the way.”

“I knew you were a bit of a bad boy,” you joke and lead him inside the theater.

You lead Spencer inside the movie theater and away from anyone who might kick you out. There is a movie showing you’ve been wanting to see and happened to drag your boyfriend along with you for the ride. There is popcorn in your bag that you popped yourself so you don’t have to buy the theater’s popcorn.

You two walk into the theater you want and head to the very back so as not to bother anyone else. It’s a cheesy horror movie that has you laughing rather than screaming. Spencer isn’t a huge fan of horror but loves movies like these because it’s something you love to do.

Another thing you love to do with Spencer that he also enjoys is playing min-golf. You two clearly don’t know what you’re doing but it doesn’t matter because you’re having fun.

“Spencer, I think you’re doing it wrong,” you giggle.

He holds the golf club at an angle and hits the ball but it goes nowhere near the hole. It bounces off several walls and goes back to where he started.

“I suck at this game,” he smiles.

“Let me show you how it’s done.”

You walk to the front and set your ball down. You look at the hole on the other end of the course and bring your club back only to hit it super hard. The ball not only goes flying, it flies right into the set instead of on the grass. This course is a pirate’s theme so there are wooden pirates everywhere, and the ball nearly takes off one of their heads.

The couple behind you stares at you in judgment for acting like children. You two are giggling like school girls, but the couple doesn’t think it’s funny.

“Maybe you should play the right way,” the woman says.

“Maybe you should mind your fucking business,” you snap.

The woman is shocked you talked to her that way, and you turn to Spencer with a giggle. She storms off to presumably get security which means you and Spencer have to go before you get in trouble.

“It’s not good for an FBI agents to be caught with petty vandalism.”

“Then we better not get caught!”

Mini golf might not be the best date idea since you and Spencer can’t play for shit, but the kind of dates you love taking Spencer on are beach dates. The perfect time of day to go is when the sun is setting since the clouds are bright pink, orange, and purple, and the sun makes the water shimmer magically.

“Are you ready?” you grin at Spencer.

“As ready as you can be.”

“Don’t push me this time.”

The water crashes on the shore, and you and Spencer run from the water. You two look like little kids who don’t want to get wet but you don’t care. Once the water recedes back into the ocean, you and Spencer walk closer to water. The waves crash onto the shore again, and tyou and Spencer take off running away from it. The water splashes on the back of your ankles, and you squeal at how cold it is. The East Coast waters are a lot warmer than the West Coast, but it’s still winter.

Spencer scoops you up into his arms and walks closer to the water that has receded.

“Don’t drop me,” you giggle and hold onto him.

When the water crashes onto the shore, Spencer attempts to run from it but ends up slipping and falling. He turns so that you land on him instead of the ground, but the water washes over both of you. You scream playfully from how cold the water is and Spencer shivers from the temperature. You lean down and kiss him just as another wave washes upon you.

Though, the best date you’ve ever been on with Spencer is when he took you to a rooftop restaurant. He had to work late because of the BAU but managed to get a reservation a the restaurant since he was friends with the chef. Since it was past closing time, there was no one else on the roof but you two, and it overlooked the city which only added to how romantic it was.

“Damn, you can see everything up here,” you say. “It’s very beautiful.”

Spencer stares at you as you admire the city below. “Yeah, it is.”

Soft music is flowing through the speakers, and Spencer gets up and extends his hand to you. The chef has your orders so while you wait, Spencer wants to fill the time with dancing. You look away from the city and blush at his hand. When you grab his hand, he pulls you into him so that your head is resting on his cheat. You can hear his heartbeat underneath your ear which releases an abundance of endorphins in your head.

Your hand is so small compared to his, so he envelopes yours completely. Everything else in your life goes away because the only thing you can focus on is Spencer and this moment. You’re so in love with him that it’s overwhelming and consuming. You’ve never felt this way about another person before.

You’re not sure where you’d be without him in your life.

A few weeks after that rooftop date, you and Spencer are in the park near your shared apartment. It’s nearing midnight so there aren’t any kids playing around. It’s just you and Spencer which is all that you want. You two are swinging lightly on the swings, and you look up at the stars that twinkle for you.

“Do you still read the book I made for you?” he suddenly asks.

You look at him and slightly frown.

“No, I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too painful, I guess. It reminds me of you and I get really sad,” you sigh.

“I see,” he nods.

“I hope you’re not mad.”

“Mad at a cute little thing like you? Never.” He stops swinging and looks at you seriously. “I do have to go, though.”

“No, please stay,” you whimper.

“I can’t darling. I promise I’ll be back soon.”

He gets off the swing and approaches you from the front. He pulls you close and kisses your head. You close your eyes to savor this moment but when you open them, you’re in your bedroom. The room is dull in color and the curtains are drawn closed to prevent light from coming through.

The alarm clock reads seven AM. You should be at work. You should be with your team. Instead, you roll to the empty spot in bed and bring Spencer’s pillow closer to you. You stain the sheet with your tears as you force yourself to go to sleep.

Your dreams are the only place you get to see Spencer now.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[jeridandridge]

Hi! Idk if your asks are open rn, I know you got a lot in your requests. But I thought of this little fluffy idea and you're my fave writer on here so I thought I'd throw it your way and see if you liked it enough to write it!

It's a dark and stormy night and Melissa takes reader to a scary movie for date night, which basically scars the reader (in a cute funny way obvs lol) and she has to stay over at Melissa's bc she is terrified. But what she doesn't know is Melissa is low-key also terrified. Every floorboard creaking, shadows on the walls, trees knocking against the windows 👻👻👻 you know?

Cute, fluffy, funny with a happy ending. If ya feel like it!

💕💕

This was so much fun to write I hope you dig it! Thank you for the request. 🩷

Deadites and Baseball Bats.

“Cmon, Mel.” You chuckle jogging up to the door to hold it open for your girlfriend. It was starting to rain outside and you knew it would only get worse throughout the night.

“Ya know I still don’t know why you picked this one, hon.” She quirks a brow as you two get to the snack area. You’d made sure to get the tickets for the movie the day before, mostly because you knew that way you wouldn’t chicken out.

“It’s supposed to be really good! My brother showed me the original when I was way too little now I wanna see this one.” You smile at the memory. You like some horror, but it still scared you. Hell, Michael meyers was a figure in your nightmares even when you were in high school.

“You saw Evil Dead when you were a kid?!” Melissa’s eyes go wide and you can’t help but laugh at her expression as you reach for her hand.

“I told you my brother wasn’t the best babysitter.”

You pay for your usual snack of popcorn and a bag of peanut M&Ms to share, even though Melissa always tells you to just sneak stuff in. In the theater you sit munching on your snacks waiting for the movie to start.

“I wonder how scary this one’s gonna be.” Melissa hums as the lights dim. When the movie starts you scoot closer to your girlfriend noting how the atmosphere in the movie is just like how it is outside now. Rain pelting down and dark. Too dark.

The movie starts out easy enough, but eventually your find yourself hiding your face in your girlfriends hair. “That’s not what a cheese grater is for!” You squeak.

“Woah!” Melissa lets out pushing further back into her seat, her hand on your thigh.

Throughout the movie you play peekaboo through your girlfriends hair, holding onto her arm for dear life.

“That’s more blood than when they got my uncle Tony.” Melissa winces.

You start to relax when the character wields the iconic chainsaw, finally killing the mutant deadite. After the movie you let out a breath and stand up blown away and terrified of what you watched.

“I can’t believe she went after all her kids.” The red head comments as you two head out of the theater.

“I mean, it wasn’t really her, the deadite was just using her.” You reason, your face falling when you get to the lobby. The glass doors give you a peak of an angry dark purple sky and lightning striking through black clouds.

“Ready to make a run for it, hon?” Melissa asks resting her hand on your lower back.

You nod pushing the door open.

“You can’t help but laugh when you two reach the car, Melissa trying to fix her soaking wet hair.

“Oh baby.” You laugh reaching over to wipe away smeared mascara. “My little raccoon.” You tease.

“Shut up, scaredy cat.” She teases you getting the car moving. As you two head home you can’t help but jump when a roll of thunder crashes seemingly right above you.

“Fuck.” You mutter looking out the window. The sky had grown even darker, making it look much later than 10 o’clock. The wind whipping around rattles the car and you reach over holding the sleeve of Melissa’s leather jacket.

Back at home you two get in shaking off the water.

“I’m gonna get some candles out just in case. That wind is too strong.” Melissa comments heading upstairs.

For some reason, when Melissa goes upstairs you feel like a child again, feet stuck in cement blocks unable to move with fear running through you. You think of how ridiculous it is.

“It’s just a movie.” You tell yourself moving through the house to get to the kitchen. All of a sudden you hear a zap and everything goes black.

“Oh fuck.” You cry out, your heart racing. “Mel!”

“I’m comin I’m comin, hon.” She huffs flicking a lighter for the candle in her hand.

Your hand grips the door frame and you don’t let go until you see your girlfriend glowing in the candle light.

“If I weren’t so freaked out id tell you how hot you look in that candlelight.” You breathe out with a nervous laugh.

Melissa moves through the dimly lit area holding the large glass candle.

“You’re scared and you still manage to flirt.” She chuckles wrapping her arm around your waist. “Cmon, baby I’ll keep you safe.” She teases.

“That movie was terrifying! I don’t know why I did that.”

“But we did have fun.” Melissa smiles in the dark. When you two get to your bedroom she sets the candle down on the dresser and moves to light more.

You strip getting rid of your wet clothes and changing into your sweatpants and one of Melissa’s eagles shirts.

You take a step forward and when you do the hardwood floor creaks forcing you to freeze.

“What was-“ Melissa whips around, stoping when she sees you on a certain part of the floor.

“Is the big and tough Melissa Schemmenti scared too?” You tease climbing into bed.

“I am not! It sounded weird, I didn’t know if- whatever.” She waves her hand continuing to take her makeup off. You sit in bed with the blanket pulled up to your chin, your phone in hand you scroll trying to take your mind off of the howling wind outside and the freaky deadites.

“Remind me to get rid of the cheese grater.” Melissa hums climbing in next to you.

“Oh god.” You shudder remembering the scene. “No cheese graters or tattoo machines in this house.”

“Deal.” The red head laughs wrapping her arm around you. You shift scooting back to have her behind you. She holds you a little tighter than she normally does, the sound of the rain hitting the window starts to lull you to sleep until youre jolted out of your haze by the sound of glass breaking and a door slamming.

“What the fuck was that?!” Melissa bolts up resting her hand on your hip. You sit up completely still, listening for anything else.

“Hopefully not a possessed angry zombie mother.” You hiss getting up with the red head. Melissa grabs her bedroom bat and you stand behind her, hands on her back as you both creep through the house.

“If I ever get possessed you better take me out.” She whispers.

“You got it, baby.” You agree, completely tense as you both get down the hall.

“It’s in the bathroom!” she hisses looking at the now closed door.

“I’ll kick it open, you swing.” You whisper standing on the opposite side of the door frame. Your girlfriend gives you a nod and you move like a lightening bolt kicking the door in and moving to the side again as Melissa winds her arms up ready to swing.

“Oh my god.” Melissa sighs bringing a hand to her chest. You look in past her seeing the bathroom window broken and a tree branch through it.

“So not a deadite” you sigh in relief. Melissa steps forward and you pull her back by the arm. “Stop, you’re gonna step on glass. It’s too dark to deal with this right now.”

Melissa puts her arms down closing the door again.

“We’ll have to wait until the morning to do something about that.” She hums.

You can’t help but smile standing beside her. “Thank you for protecting me from deaites and tree branches.”

Melissa laughs intertwining your fingers pulling you back to the bedroom.

“I think we have to put a no scary movies in the dark rule in place.”

“Deal. Big time deal.”

[cryptidcircuswrites]

WHERE DO I GO FROM HERE

!- angst, confrontation, guilt, Tim feels helpless and ignored, Brian is still technically dead, DID/OSDD implied Tim/Masky, no comfort we cry like men

Brian Thomas was dead, and in his place stood The Hooded One.

Tim Wright was still alive, and by his side, sharing his body, lurked The Masked One.

The Masked One was a silent and effective servant, loyal like a dog at the heels of its master. There was no humanity to him, just blind devotion.

There was humanity left in Tim.

He’d beg, and cry, and plead with the thing that looked, sounded, felt like his Brian, only to be met with nothing.

“Please, Bri, I’m scared and I don’t understand what’s happening anymore. I followed you out here, I-I keep having those gaps in my memory still—“

That same cold blue-green stare as always. No emotion on his face.

Tim started to break, voice raising in the hopes of something.

“Why won’t you just fucking listen to me?! Why won’t you help me?! Nothing, I get nothing from you!”

“I’m not him.” The sudden soft voice cuts him off. “I’m not him anymore. That thing, it changed me. Your Brian is dead. He died in Benedict Hall, you killed him.” The Hooded One ran a hand through his hair, muscle memory. Brian had done that too. “You killed him and now I’m stuck in this hellhole and I don’t understand why you didn’t leave and get out while you could!”

“I tried to! I tried to get out and I always ended up back here a few weeks later! I don’t remember how, I don’t know why, I lose contact with everyone from wherever I was before and I end up right back here with you!”

Tim lights a cigarette. Old habits die hard.

“Your memory gaps,” The Hooded One said with such a quiet intensity it reminded Tim of Brian’s theater performances in High school, “are there for a reason. You don’t want to remember. I remember what happens. It’s not a nice memory, Tim. We’re monsters now.”

Tim scoffs. “Yeah. Now. We’re monsters now, like I wasn’t one as a kid when they locked me up, or when I got everyone sick because that thing followed me around and latched on to Alex. Now I’m a monster, not when I got Jay killed or when I pushed you out of a window and killed you, or when I stabbed Alex in the neck—“ his voice breaks a little.

A gloved hand finds his shoulder, a small comfort.

“Tim. I’m not Brian.”

[pythoneon]

Someone might’ve posted about this before, but while i have the persistent brainrot, I wanna ramble about hatchetfield and the perpetual cycle of missed opportunities.

The first couple is pretty obvious: Paul and Emma. They’re two people who don’t get the chance to move past the early stages of a relationship. In TGWDLM, they’ve just gotten on a first name basis, even though he’s a regular and there’s a connection between them. It’s a slow burn that fizzles out because of the circumstances. Black Friday is a bit different because, while they’re not an official couple, Emma cares enough about Paul to bring her to what she thinks is a belated Thanksgiving dinner with estranged family. But that musical ends with everyone being blown to kingdom come, so again, it doesn’t evolve further than being “intimate” with each other. Then, of course, there’s their brief interaction in NPMD which parallels TGWDLM, with an interruption by Officer Bailey. In Nightmare Time, only Paul 23 and Android! Emma have a happy ending, but not without hiccups of course. They seem like an inevitability-pun fully intended-in every universe. Oftentimes, their potential is never fully realized.

Becky and Tom is an interesting couple because they’re the only main pairing that dated and broke up, only to get back together later on. They dated in high school and were pulled apart by circumstance. Tom goes to war, and in the interim, Becky becomes entangled with her abusive husband that keeps them apart even after he comes back. In Black Friday, they reunite, bone in the movie theater, but again, they get fucking bombed at the end. In Jane’s A Car, they actually get to rekindle their relationship, getting to the point that Tom brings Becky home to meet his son. Tim even likes Becky, acknowledging that she can’t replace his mom but she’s a good presence for them both. Unfortunately, Tom’s grief and guilt drives them apart again-pun not intended this time. There could be other worlds where they get back together as well, but that comes after years of heartbreak, trauma, and separation.

Lex and Ethan are interesting because in every world we’ve seen thus far, they start each story in a very committed relationship. We don’t see their beginning stages like the others, so we already know how they are together. This makes Black Friday even more devastating when we watch Ethan die protecting Hannah, and Lex never finds this out. She dies unaware of his fate. Then in Witch in a Web, they’re both in jail after trying to make money to get Hannah out of their neglectful mother’s home. Yellow Jacket is the worst, I think. Because Ethan wants the best for Lex and Hannah, he allows Hannah to take part in the super kid fight club, which accidentally dooms his relationship after they kill Otho and have to go on the run from Charlie. We see him getting her a ring, preparing to propose to her, but he never gets the chance. Lex leaves him behind in Hatchetfield to relieve him of the burden of having to protect her and Hannah. Ethan loves Lex so much that while trying to save her, he loses her.

Finally, our newest and most hopeful addition: Steph and Pete. The babies. We see them first in Abstinence Camp, finding kindred spirits in each other because they see themselves outcasts in their environment. I’d argue this is also true in NPMD. They’re both outliers in their social groups, and connect because of this. In TGWDLM, we can assume they both are infected before ever meeting-the same thing goes for Black Friday. The nice thing about their relationship is, in both Abstinence Camp and NPMD, they end the story in the early stages of their romance, and we can assume it’ll develop further because they both trust each other and have ‘defeated’ the monster. However, they don’t get through it unscathed. Nobody does. But I’ll be optimistic and say they’re the only ones who actually get the happy ending they deserve.

Some honorable mentions:

- Ted and Charlotte, and Ted and Jenny. Ted seems to truly care for Charlotte, and in TGWDLM, he watches her die for her scummy husband. In Black Friday, they’re briefly seen together at the end, but again, BOMB. Then there’s Forever & Always, where it’s revealed Ted is responsible for the death of his one true love, and also his own.

- Linda and Gerald is less subtle, considering they’re both batshit, but their insanity makes them a match made in hell. So, it’s pretty sad when, in Nightmare Time 2, Gerald dies helping Linda become the titular Honey Queen. And, of course, Linda dies in Black Friday while on the phone with him.

- DUKE AND MISS HOLLOWAY. OH BOY DO I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY ABOUT THEM. THE TRAGEDY OF FALLING FOR SOMEONE WHO YOU CAN NEVER SHARE YOUR LIFE WITH BECAUSE BUT YEARNING TO BE IN THEIR LIFE IN ANY WAY POSSIBLE. THE PAINS OF BEING IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE THAT YOU NEVER REALLY KNEW, NOR COULD YOU EVER TRULY KNOW HER, BUT YOU LOVE HER REGARDLESS, AND YOULL ALWAYS LOVE HER. PROTECTING THE PERSON YOU LOVE EVEN IF IT MEANS ACCIDENTALLY DAMNING YOURSELF INTO STARTING OVER WITHOUT THAT PERSON. GOD THEY MAKE ME SO SAD

[azure-firecracker]

ATLA Live Action Stream of Consciousness (Episode 1, Part 3).

How does Gran Gran know all of this (how does she know that Aang is the avatar?)

I AM SORRY ANIMATED KATARA WOULD NOT GO HIDE BECAUSE SOKKA TOLD HER TO! Yeah character reinterpretation is a thing but no.

Okay Katara’s monologue to Sokka I see her character there she is! And confirmed the problem was the directing because Kiawentiio acted the hell out of that. Now do more of it! I have also seen her energy in interviews and I know she can bring the power if they just…let her.

“Lord of snow and ice” lmao

Zuko continues to be a reckless idiot that’s good (don’t fall for it-proceeds to fall for it)

I wonder if the substitution of “glory” for “honor” has any deeper connotations because those words don’t mean the same thing.

I know the Water Tribe being SO unprepared for war was a key point in the original but I did like the moment with the village kids I thought it was sweet.

Okay Zuko is the one instance so far where I liked someone saying “burn it all down” because I’ve seen all the comments about him being soft and this reminded me that no, he’s still a bad guy for now.

Who told Kiawentiio to stop moving the second Ian Ousley touched her? That struggle (when she’s trying to stop Aang from turning himself in) doesn’t look realistic at all I’ve seen better stage directions in my high school theater productions. Somebody hire new directors.

I know the Aang and Iroh scene is fanservice and I don’t care.

This Iroh is more overtly conflict averse and I like that we may be exploring that some more. I love Iroh but I’m also glad for the chance to get to see some of his flaws.

The transition onto the Water Siblings flying on Appa was awesome and very reminiscent of the cartoon. I don’t personally need this to resemble the cartoon too much in terms of energy because I can tell it’s so different, but those moments are nice.

God Zuko’s room looks like an emo theater kid’s room too.

He has a fucking detective wall it’s my murder mystery fanfic! Wish fulfillment! (Also self plug here’s the only fanfic I’ve ever finished I’m fond of it and you should check it out).

There’s some good old Zuko yelling.

Katara waterbending moment! Nice!

How are there 15 minutes left in the episode?

They’re fitting…another episode in here? Okay.

I’ve seen people say that it doesn’t make sense to have Aang go into the Avatar State when he sees Gyatso’s skeleton since he already knew about the genocide. I think it passes since seeing something is different than hearing about it. I do, however, think that we didn’t need to see the genocide, have Gran Gran tell Aang about the genocide, and see Aang react to Gyatso’s skeleton. One of those (probably the middle one) could have easily been removed to make time for some more character moments or something.

I miss Katara pulling Aang out of the Avatar state. The vision is nice but having it be Katara emphasized the power of friendship and family which they literally did…so why couldn’t they do it in a way that made Katara more useful? Because book 1 Katara already veers in the damsel in distress direction (ish-more so than in later books) without them taking away when she does important things. I did love the Katara/Aang hug though.

THE TRANSITION TO ZUKO WHEN AANG WAS LIKE “THIS WAS MY HOME AND NOW IT’S GONE” NARRATIVE FOILS MY BELOVED!

[betterbooktitles]

Because I was taller than everyone else on my fifth-grade baseball team, my strike zone was slightly larger than most. That fact alone must have led to a few more pitches going unanswered when I was at bat. It also didn’t help that I was deathly afraid of the ball.

My dad, not the biggest sports enthusiast, took the time in the evenings after work both during and after baseball season to toss small plastic whiffle balls (about a 6th of the size of a regular baseball) at me that I would then swat a sad few feet from where we stood in the front yard. He was always in his dress clothes, and as the sun set behind him, it felt like everyone in our neighborhood was hiding inside during our 10-minute drill.

“Keep your eye on the ball.” he’d say before underhand tossing the practice pitch, having no idea the reason I had watched the last 9 strikes in one game pass the plate in front of me wasn’t an inability to see the ball coming, but the exact opposite: I saw it flying right at me and was frozen by fear.

Recently, I found the baseball cards they’d made for our rec teams. There I am smiling, bat in hand, not an inkling of fear on my face since I was staring down a camera and not a pitcher. The back of the cards featured my weight, height, and various stats, including 0 RBIs. The more impressive numbers reported: I had jumped from 5’1” to 5’11” over three summers.

Being tall at 12, and remaining relatively tall until most kids caught up with me in high school, had its advantages. I played center in basketball and rarely had to jump for a rebound, I was a decent first baseman because I wasn’t afraid of a ball when I had a mitt to catch it in, and adults, simply by virtue of my being the same size as them, mistakenly talked to me as if I were a peer. 

“The problem with this fucking place…” the new head of my community theater confided in me as I sat in the box office and handed a parent her change, “is there are too many chefs!” My new boss kept her flat black hair short and wore fat earrings. She was in her mid-50s and had been given the job after the board fired her friend and colleague of 15 years from the same position. Our new leader had spent much of her career teaching children how to sing in harmony, not fundraising and attending advertising meetings, and she was adjusting. I was 11 or 12, hearing an adult woman vent for the first time about what I had assumed was a nice promotion.

“It’s like that pasta fundraiser we did,” she continued, “Everyone brought in a sauce from home, but imagine if we had mixed them all together? You bring your grandma’s famous recipe in and dump it in with a bunch of Ragu, what does it taste like? It all tastes like Ragu, you know?”

I nodded as if I knew. “I get you.” I said, speaking slowly so my voice didn’t crack. I had recently visited New Orleans and had tried to yell something funny at my family while crossing the street, and out came a high-pitched whistle instead. A man in a suit walking past us mirthfully smiled to himself, knowing exactly what had happened. Since then, I remained cognizant of how deep I needed to keep my voice to not slip. Plus I wanted this woman to keep speaking to me like a coworker. “You don’t want to be watered down.”

“Yes. It’s like that. Imagine that for every person who brought in Ragu, someone else brought in a bottle of piss to mix in. That’s what the board meetings are like. Their ideas are like piss mixed into a pasta sauce.”

I giggled and quickly cleared my throat before saying in a deep voice: “Tell me about it.”

The disadvantage of tallness was that from 3rd to 6th grade, it was assumed that I could do everything myself. They started asking for tall guy favors. Tiny teachers asked me to retrieve supplies from high shelves and old ladies I didn’t know stopped me on the street and asked me to help carry their groceries from their cars. No one was worried about a boy who looked 18 at age 11, but that also meant I had to desperately seek out the right friends if I wanted to talk about Pokémon and anime instead of someone asking if I could buy them porn or cigarettes or firecrackers. Still, like many kids, I wanted to be older than I was and I relished my tall kid privilege. I walked to the mall alone, I walked into R-rated movies without anyone on staff stopping me, and I stood outside the back entrance of my community theater where the director and crew members smoked cigarettes and talked to them about their love lives. Never in my life did older people cover their mouths after they swore or steer conversations away from sex at the sight of me. 

This early independence may have been what my parents wanted.

“We treated you like little adults even though we knew we weren’t supposed to.” My mom revealed to me on a recent trip to see my family in North Carolina. In the open-concept house down the street from where my brother settled after college, we reminisced about Cleveland from afar, my brother chiming in periodically to say how our old neighborhood had changed for the better, what buildings had been demolished and rebuilt because they were a lost cause. Schools had been turned into suburban developments, dilapidated gyms became giant complexes for rec soccer leagues, and a bunch of fuck-up alcoholics we’d known in school had become successful lawyers (who still drank too much).

“We let you decide where we ate and what sports you played,” my Mom continued, “you weren’t supposed to let kids decide all that, even in the 90s.” 

My dad, half-awake in a recliner, said that when he told a friend how he used to leave his 11-year-old alone to make sure his 8-year-old son got the school bus on time every morning, and the friend said that practice was tantamount to child abuse. Whatever trauma I experienced from having time alone with my brother (?) fails to compare to how I feel about adults who spoke to me from age 10-15. 

By the time I was a teenager, I’d fully accepted my early adulthood. When I wasn’t playing a sport or acting in a play, my number one hobby was taking a John Updike book (sorry) to a coffee shop. I frequented a place within walking distance of my house in Cleveland called Talkies. I sat at the front bar with my book and ate a second lunch at 3 PM. I talked to random people sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes inside. One was a researcher at Case Western who studied molecular biology. He seemed to know no one in Cleveland except me and the baristas. Another guy was a white dude with dreadlocks, a gifted actor who bussed tables at the fancy restaurant next door. Every barista was a 20-something woman who told me about their various trysts in graphic detail. Multiple times the men offered me cigarettes or to split a joint outside. No wonder it took me years to finish one of the Rabbit novels. I was soaking up more than enough adult content in my real life than any book could offer.

The oddest encounter occurred at a hotel in Annapolis, Maryland when I was 15...

Read the rest here.

[hyacinthsb]

sereshaw/hangster headcanons i (sereshawers) have about their dating history (mostly dad sereshaw).

this is kinda au but high school bfs au where they met in navy rotc

ex-boyfriends but that’s just canon bc i said so

to add onto the ex boyfriends thing, rooster was the one to break things off originally. reason why? unknown.

hangman had like an overly loving family. like family dinners were mandatory, family game nights every saturday (also mandatory), if a sibling had a big football game or whatever EVERYONE WENT!, big family parties. the whole thing. so whenever rooster would visit he would be so overwhelmed but he loved it.

After the mission, when they finally get a moment alone, hangman kisses rooster. like they are just talking and drinking beer and hangman just kisses him. and he is like only a couple sips into his first beer so he can’t even blame it on being drunk.

rooster kisses back… but hangman gets mad at him and rooster is like “woah??? Sorry” and he is like “fuck you i hate you let’s make out”

they just have a whole “will they? won’t they?” thing going on for a good while and the dagger squad has a separate gc without them in it to make bets and gossip about them (all love though <3)

they date for like 3 years and hangman breaks up with him like a million times throughout that 3 year period over nothing just because he is petty. less than an hour later he is like “babe 🥰” though.

rooster says something like “are you going to ask me out anytime soon” and hangman is like “that’s funny. no, you have to ask me out.” so rooster does.

rooster proposes in their apartment bc hangman said if he ever proposed in a very public place he would say no and run away dramatically to be funny. rooster said that would be mean but hangman just responded “it’s what you deserve”

Beach wedding beach wedding beach wedding

hangman is the first one to bring up kids and rooster is a little scared at first but they adopt a 5 year old girl named harper and before they get her, they redecorate a whole room in their house to be perfect for her. they asked her favorite color and she said purple so they painted the room purple and she said she liked butterflies so they got little hanging butterflies to hang from her ceiling. they got her a canopy bed with decorated it with fairy lights on the curtains. they also got her a a huge toy chest and a huge doll house and the first they will do on her first day home is take her to the store so that she can pick out tons of toys and books and clothes and whatever else she wants.

they spoil harper beyond belief and everyone calls them crazy but they don’t really care they love her.

harper sees a picture of bradley playing baseball and says she wants to do that and from that moment on they are baseball (softball?) dads.

after harper turns 7 and goes into first grade and they miss having a kid around all the time they are like “yeah let’s have another”. this time around they adopted a 2 year old girl named morgan. everything they did for harper, they did for morgan but this time harper got to help too and she was really excited to have a little sister.

for halloween, they dressed up as elsa and anna and harper was over the moon. morgan just liked to copy what her sister did or told her to do so she was happy as anna.

both girls love princesses so everytime a new disney movie comes out, they beg jake and bradley to take them to the movie theater to watch them. each time they want to dress up, so they put in princess dresses and make jake and bradley dress up like princes. are they embarrassed? yes. do they do it anyways? yes absolutely.

when morgan turns 4 she started to take an interest in soccer which meant bradley and jake switched back and forth between soccer and softball practice.

hangman watches videos on YouTube on how to braid hair and braids both their hair for games. the moms start asking him to braid their daughters’ hair and he is like “um ig”.

the girls ask to put makeup on them a lot and everytime they sigh and go “fine.” so they just sit and watch tv on the couch and let the girls paint their face and put little bows in their hair.

jake can post a million times on facebook with pics of the girls and bradley and stuff but bradley posts only a few times a year (that being for birthdays and holidays)

that’s all I got for now idk

[kovajean]

As someone whose favorite movie (second only to Whiplash) is Karate Kid III, I’ll never understand people that think it’s a bad movie.

Although my reasons aren’t entirely objective, it’s still worth writing about. It’s crazy how nearly tailor-made this movie is for me.

&

The over the top villains in Mike and Silver are perfect, because they have hardly any motive. I love simple shit like that.

Why is Silver doing this? Because his best friend was embarrassed. Why is he doing it in this way? Because he’s evil. Why is he evil? Because he is. Let’s also not forget the fact that he’s a corrupt oil barren. That shit’s hilarious. He’s also hot as fuck and I, as a gay man, am allowed that as a reason.

Why is Mike doing this? Money. Why is he doing it this way? Because he likes beating people up. Why does he like beating people up? Because he does. Who cares that there’s no deeper meaning behind it? I certainly don’t. I like when villains are bad because they like to be. I don’t want anything different. And I especially love that Cobra Kai didn’t retcon his insanity, like they’ve retconned other people’s wrongdoings...

&

The dialogue is both great and fucking awful at the same time. Here are some of my favorite lines from the movie:

“They made you suffer, so I’m gonna make them suffer—and suffer, and suffer, and when I think they’ve suffered enough, then I start with the pain.” (This line fucking SUCKS LOL)

“When I'm finished with that kid, he'll be begging me to be his teacher. And you know what he's gonna learn from me? Pain. In every part of his body. And fear��in every part of his mind. And here's the kicker: He's gonna thank me for it.” (This is probably my favorite line ever from any movie. It’s so good. The first time I showed this movie to my ex-boyfriend he would quote this shit at me every single day.)

“Johnny, by the time that little twerp steps into the ring to defend his title, I’m gonna have him thinking he’s invincible. Then he’s gonna find out what pain and fear really mean. Right in front of a thousand people.” (This line gives me chills. So good. Would be better if he used something less Disney bully than “twerp”, though.)

“It’s okay to lose to an opponent—Must not lose to fear!” (This along with the majority of Miyagi’s lines are great. I don’t need to go through them all. This is just my favorite one.)

The thing about these movies is that each one has varying levels of dialogue quality. KK1’s dialogue is fucking awful. But at least some of the lines are funny enough to laugh at. There are some good lines in there, but that’s just it. Good lines. Not memorable. Same thing with KK2. The dialogue in that movie is just good. That’s all. I can’t recite a single line from that movie. Because the lines aren’t memorable. Except for, of course, “honk”. Do not get me wrong though. I'm not saying this movie is the best Karate Kid movie. No way. It's just my favorite, and it's not as bad as people make it out to be.

&

The score had me looping it for 3 months straight. I'm not even hyperbolizing here. The whole of it is just wonderful. The reused and remixed songs like Kata Training are great. But when I get to Silver’s theme, that’s a whole different thing. Listen to this shit:

How is this real? I’m a huge classical music fan, and I could not stop playing this song over and over and over again. Listen to this one:

Did you know that this song wasn’t even used in the movie? This is an alternate version of Terry’s Next Move, which plays over the Kreese and Silver phone call as well as the Mike Barnes Magazine Car Ride. The one they went with certainly works better for the scene, but I love, love, love this one. So much more. 

I never thought I’d be hooked on a series of songs from a Karate Kid movie composed by the same guy who did Rocky, but here I am. 6 months strong, too. I was in a high school theater production when I watched this movie for the first time, and every free moment I had backstage was spent looping each piece with any bit of Terry’s theme in it (such as Terry Silver, Terry’s Next Move, Terry Sneaks In, and Daniel Submits. I also had Terry Owns Daniel on loop occasionally, but that song doesn’t have any real instances of Terry’s theme in it–it just sounds similar. And yes, these are the official names of the songs in case you weren’t aware.) I also listened to these songs on loop while doing an art class project (which was of, you guessed it, Karate Kid characters).

&

I love Daniel in this movie. Love him. More so than any of the other movies. He’s exponentially sillier, he becomes best friends with a girl instead of dating her, he demonstrates color theory, and his irritability and sass are on full display. I also like that he's not super skinny anymore, and that he actually looks his age. (My love for him may also be aided by the fact that I relate most to his personality and appearance in accordance with this movie versus the first two).

I LOVE JESSICA! You will never meet a bigger Jessica fan than me. I love her so, so dearly.

She brings out the good in Daniel.

She shows us that Daniel is good with rejection. When she tells him she has a boyfriend, his opinion of her stays the exact same. He doesn’t push her. He lets it go, and they immediately become best friends. All because she told him that she hadn’t made any friends yet.

I like that Daniel is protective of her despite the fact that they’re not dating. He really cares about her, and he doesn’t expect anything in return. He’s not spoiled. But I also like that Jessica gets mad at him, because he went way too far. She doesn’t let him get away with it or treat him like a hero. She gets upset. Because Daniel just assaulted someone who hadn’t done anything deserving of violence (yet). And when she leaves, Daniel recognizes his mistake. He recognizes all of his mistakes. All because of Jessica. I can promise you, had she reacted positively, the movie would have ended differently. She was the step he needed to snap out of his power trip. And I love her for it.

She also trains with Daniel! None of his love interests did that!

I’m saving the color theory section for a separate post where I will go over every Daniel outfit and what they mean for the scene because I have the free time to do so and dammit I’m not hyper fixated on Karate Kid III enough already so I might as well let myself get worse. You feel me?

Despite the fact that Daniel's clearly nervous around Silver, he’s still a piece of shit during their training sessions. I respect that. He’s also incredibly snappy towards Mike and his gang even though he knows he shouldn’t be. His morals are also on full display if you think about it. He’s mean to mean people, even if being nice to them will work out better in the long run. Because he refuses to be nice to people who don’t deserve it. As well as vice versa. Except for when he snaps at Miyagi. Hmm, I wonder why he does this? Perhaps, is it maybe, the fact that he’s being manipulated to use anger as a coping mechanism?

People go on and on about how whiny Daniel is in this movie, but they don’t seem to consider why.

Daniel is assaulted over and over again by Mike and his gang, and his new best friend gets roped into it. He stores this anger because he has nowhere else to put it. Then he meets Silver, someone who gives him an outlet for it. He finally has something to do with this pent-up rage, until he’s given mixed signals by the people around him when he uses this newfound coping skill. Miyagi gets upset, Silver praises him, Jessica leaves him. How is he supposed to know what to do? Of course he has a mental break. He rants to Jessica about it, then to Miyagi, and he thinks he has his problems fixed. Then, to make matters worse, he finds out that Silver was tricking him the whole time. Now he has to relearn Miyagi-Do. That fucking sucks. I’d go crazy too. This, along with the fact that he wanted to compete in the All-Valley so badly that he brought it up to Miyagi on multiple occasions, was shot down every time, finally gave up, and then was forced to care again? AND Miyagi refuses to train him even though it’s hardly his decision anymore? How Daniel kept going in this movie is beyond me. He’s not whiny, he’s livid. He can’t catch a fucking break.

I’d say his anger is accumulated throughout the movies. This one year has been more eventful than the rest of his life was prior. Everyone he meets seems to want his head on a stake and there’s literally nothing he can do about it. He just wants to be a normal guy, and no one will let him.

He’s also certainly not weaker in this movie in comparison to the second. He’s been broken down by everyone trying to fight him and he’s at a point where he’s trying not to care. He’s trying so hard, but when Mike shows up it’s difficult for him to keep pretending. The fact that Daniel loses to him is meant to show you that Mike is strong, not that Daniel is weak. Anyone that can defeat Daniel after Daniel’s torment in KK2 deserves to be feared. And don’t forget that Mike had the ability to kill Daniel in the bonsai scene. The only reason he’s less threatening than Chozen is because his acting is bad.

If you want to argue that he’s weak throughout the entire movie, then you’d be half correct, I guess? He’s a different sort of strong for the last half of the movie. This is because Silver teaches him different moves. Daniel stops using what he used to know (the style of Karate that we’ve seen him use up until this point), and is now using exclusively this new style. And when you consider that this new style only has 3 different moves, of course he’s going to look weaker. The All-Valley scene Daniel also isn’t weaker if that’s your argument, because there is genuinely no other way he could have beaten Mike than with Kata. Mike is immune to Miyagi-Do. That’s why Daniel never beat him in any of the scenes leading up to the All-Valley. Daniel is also overcome with fear thanks to Silver. The ineffectiveness of Miyagi-Do on Mike and the lasting fear of the manipulation he dealt with is not a good combination. He beat Mike with Kata because he caught Mike completely off guard. That’s how you beat him. We know that’s how you beat him because it’s the first time we see him genuinely lose, other than when he lost to Miyagi multiple times, which is another instance of Mike being caught off guard and losing, because why would he expect an old man to be that good at Karate (and also, it’s Miyagi, of course he’s gonna lose to Miyagi. He’s not comparable to Daniel). Can you assume that Silver told Mike to be wary of Miyagi? He’d never seen the guy fight.

&

Anyways this movie has been on repeat in my brain since March and nothing I can do can stop it so why not indulge in it, huh? Just a look into my dark and twisted mind

[edierone]

15 questions tag game

I was tagged by the awesome @thursdayinspace - thank you!

Were you named after anyone?

My great-great-grandmother.

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? 

In the Richard Rodgers theater two weeks ago, during the scene where Phillip Hamilton dies. 

DO YOU HAVE KIDS? 

Yep, 16 and 12, and they’re two of my favorite people on earth ❤️

WHAT SPORTS HAVE YOU PLAYED/DO YOU PLAY? 

I’m very active - running, HIIT, personal training - but other than tennis in high school, I don’t do any actual sports per se.

DO YOU USE SARCASM?

Not as, like, a lifestyle - but come on, of course I do. 

FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?

Besides clocking basic physical dimensions like the sentient mammal that I am, I guess their vibe - I’m a middle child and an eldest daughter, I have to put literally everyone at ease immediately or I will die.

WHAT IS YOUR EYE COLOR? 

green

SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? 

happy endings for sure

ANY TALENTS? 

writing, cooking, party planning that is very specific to the person and/or occasion, knowing what any baked good’s icing will taste like just by looking at it, epic caffeine tolerance, ability to name any Beatles song with a one-second snippet, willingness and ability to fucking SMOKE any kid at monopoly if they have it coming, deadlift 120 lbs, understand (but not really speak) Romance languages 

WHERE WERE YOU BORN? 

Texas 

WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES? 

reading, writing, crafty shit

DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS? 

sadly, no

HOW TALL ARE YOU?

ehhh, 5’5”-ish?

FAVORITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?

English, history, anything but math or science (I can see objectively that science is cool, but DOING it requires both math and a kind of intellectual rigor that’s never been my forte)

DREAM JOB? 

Guy that gets paid to sit around and just read whatever 

tagging: @tinyydinosaurr, @bakedbakermom, @ellivia, @nimlurks, @jemmaredgay, @featuresofinterest and all yall maniacs!