#but also makes me grateful for the present

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Very Hopper Holidays

Hopper POV || wc: 3.7k || tags: smoking, recreational drugs, grouchy old men dealing with their feelings, smart-ass Eddie Munson, meet-cute Steddie, Steve and Max siblings, El thinks Steve is cute (so does Eddie), emotionally available Wayne Munson gives the best advice, holiday fluff, found family

This is a companion piece to my fic The Babysitter Chronicles, but can be read separately!

Brief background: Wayne patched Steve up after his fight with Billy in s2

Hopper’s freezing his goddamn balls off out here, waiting on the front stoop in the dark, banging his fist on the door. There’s no answer, but the lights are all on and it’s dinnertime on Christmas Eve. So someone’s fucking home, and the sooner they answer the sooner he can leave.

“Dammit, Wayne. Open the door so I can give you a damn present, or next time I pick up your nephew maybe I throw him in jail for the night instead of bringing him home.”

Sure enough, the door flies open, but it’s not Wayne on the other side. The kid’s standing there, layered in enough flannel shirts and sweatpants to dress all of El’s shithead friends with some left over. Hopper watches as he drags the sleeve of an oversized black flannel across his red and dripping nose, shifting uncomfortably and eyes darting side to side.

“Munson,” Hopper crosses his arms, “where the hell’s your uncle?”

Even bundled up like a little kid, he still tries to make himself bigger, taller, meaner, like he always does when Hopper picks him up. “Not here.” The tone is flat, devoid of Munson’s usual snark as a particularly intense gust of wind slams the screen door open against the side of the trailer.

“It’s Christmas eve, what do you mean he’s not here?”

“He’s working.”

Hopper scoffs. “You’re telling me your uncle works Christmas eve?”

Munson scoffs back at him, a dramatic mockery of Hopper’s own tone. “We’re Jewish, asshole.”

Well, shit.

He doesn’t have time for the kid’s hardass act. All he wanted to do was drop off a simple thank you and also merry christmas but now probably happy hanukkah gift and be on his way to his own family. He can only hope El spares him a bit of holiday mercy for making her wait. 

“Kid, can I just come in?” He takes another step up, only for Munson to block his path.

His eyes grate across Hopper’s jacket, noting the star on the chest. “No cops in the trailer.” 

A low grumble forces its way up Hopper’s throat which breaks into a frustrated groan when another gust of wind scrapes the exposed skin on his cheeks. He stamps his feet on the stairs hoping it’ll keep the blood flow going to his toes as they start to tingle. Munson’s wrapped his hands up inside the sleeves of what’s most likely one of Wayne’s old jackets.

“Look,” Eddie starts, sniffling another drip back inside his nose, “if you could just–”

But Hopper cuts him off with a deranged laugh, head thrown back in dismay at this entire situation. “No, you look here. You’re going to listen to exactly what I have to say.”

Eddie’s taken a step back, and yeah, Hopper supposes he’s never seen the Chief of Police actually freak out before. But it’s been a long day of wellness checks and stove fires, and Eddie’s the only thing standing between him and a night of kid’s Christmas movies and spiked eggnog.

So he pushes forward, spurred on by the kid’s once-in-a-lifetime stunned silence. “Now it’s clear that Wayne’s working nights, probably earning holiday hours to pay for the radiator which is pretty obviously busted, given the ten to twenty shirts you’re wearing. Meaning you’re alone, in a tin box with a tiny space heater that’s so old it’s a fire hazard shoved into the corner of your room.” The Chief walks up the stairs, standing on the step just before the door so he’s towering over Eddie, who shrinks in on himself just a bit. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Munson.” Hopper ticks off each gloved finger as his list of demands grows, Eddie’s growing wider in time. “You’re going to let me inside so I can piss and blow my nose, since I’ve been standing out here for too fucking long. You’re going to pack a bag, you’re going to call your uncle, and you’re going to tell him you’re staying with me for the night.”

Eddie stammers, mouth flapping around words he can’t find fast enough. It doesn’t matter, because Hopper’s on a roll now.

“Then,” he steamrolls Eddie again, pushing his way into the trailer, closing the door as Eddie stumbles backwards down onto the couch, “you’re going to eat my food, you’re going to watch our movies, you’re going to smile when we smile and laugh when we laugh because even if you’re Jewish you can still have a damn good fucking Christmas eve!”

He’s sick and tired of stupid teenage boys trying to be something they aren’t, like they’re manly or tough or strong for barely surviving on their own, practically raising themselves. And the best way Hopper can drill that into their thick skulls is to get them to shut the fuck up and feed them.

The silence lingers on the frost coating the inside of the windows and the crust of dried snot on Eddie’s sleeve. The kid’s avoiding eye contact, like Hopper will just leave if he’s ignored. But if Hopper can outlast guards in the POW camp, and a little girl who hates green beans, then he can sure as hell outlast Eddie goddamn Munson. So Hopper waits. And waits. 

It pays off, like he knew it would. The kid gets up, storms towards one end of the trailer. Hopper slowly follows down the narrow hallway and sees Eddie viciously shoving rumpled clothes into a backpack, mumbling about pigs and asshole cops. 

After all’s said and done, they’re pulling up to the cabin about twenty minutes later. The front door opens with a bang in greeting, causing Eddie to jump out of his skin. But when they step through the now open door into the warmth of the living room, there’s no one there to greet them.

Ah, so she’s a little upset.

El’s door is closed, like it’s not supposed to be. Light shines out from underneath, and he can hear soft voices inside. The whispers are abruptly hushed when he knocks on her door. “El, honey, I need you to open the door. Six inches, remember?” Hopper tries turning the handle but it doesn’t budge. Honestly he can’t help but wonder why he bothered to install a door with no lock when she’s got superpowers– that’s on him, he supposes. 

He turns around to find Munson standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room. “Take your jacket off, put your shit down, and stay a while, will ya?” Hopper laughs at Eddie’s incredulous expression, eyebrows scrunched together and lips pursed tight. 

“Ok,” Eddie drags the sound out in question as he sets his pack next to the couch, “who opened the fucking door?”

“Hey, language!" Hopper calls, Max’s voice echoing his own.

Eddie startles, head whipping between Hopper’s no-doubt exasperated expression and El’s still-closed bedroom door. He drags his hands down his face and sighs as her mimicry sends the girls into a fit of giggles. He hasn’t decided yet if Max is a good influence on El, even if Hopper knows it’s not himself she’s mocking.

He hears the creak of the bathroom door opening as Steve walks back into the living room. Hopper can’t help but turn to watch the show, the two boys coming face to face. 

Munson’s oversized black and red flannel covers the ripped sleeves of whatever tattered, black band t-shirt he’s wearing. Which would be on par with what he normally looks like, except it’s contrasted against bright blue, wool pajama pants with little white snowflakes on them. When Hopper first spotted them at the trailer, a teasing smirk on his face, Munson only rolled his eyes and argued they were the warmest clean pair he had.

Harrington, on the other hand, has lived his entire life in locker rooms and an empty house. Which means that he once again forgot to bring a shirt to change into after his shower. It's not normally a problem-- except when El catches him, a blush lighting up her face like a goddamn Christmas tree, accompanied by incessant giggles that make Hopper want to drown himself.

What is a problem is Munson’s shameless gawking, mouth wide enough to catch a whole swarm of flies. His blush puts El's to shame, red blotches burst across his neck like hives. Hopper can practically see the steam rolling out of the guy’s ears, hearts popping out of his eyes as he just stares and stares his fill, completely unaware that Hopper’s still standing less than five feet from him.

Thankfully, so far Steve is none the wiser. He’s got a cotton swab in his ear, head tipped down as he double-knots his Tigersharks swim team sweatpants. Hopper notices they hang baggy and loose around his hips. Another shitty reminder of how much weight the kid’s lost since getting kicked off the team because of his ‘incident’ with Hargrove. He wonders about the last time the kid ate a decent meal, and pushes down the rising anger at the most realistic answer, which is not recent enough for his liking. Hopper has the same gnawing concern when he looks back at Munson, dark circles under his eyes, skinny as a bean-pole. 

He’s got to stop taking in strays.

“Harrington, we’ve talked about this.” Hop tries to keep the frustration out of his voice, but if he has to watch El swoon over the kid’s wet hair and bare chest again he’s gonna blow a gasket. “Put a damn shirt on.”

“Oh, yeah sorry, Hop.” Which is the exact moment Steve decides to turn his head. They both catch Munson giving Steve a once over, who then chokes on his own spit when he notices Steve looking back at him. Hopper knows Harrington’s trying to turn over a new leaf, but he also knows the kind of people Richard and Helen Harrington are. So he’s a little surprised when, instead of having to stop a potential hate crime, he notices a similar blush bloom across Steve’s chest– or maybe it’s the heat from the shower. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Muson’s screech is so high it could set dogs howling. Steve flinches at the outburst, and Hopper hopes this little interaction doesn’t trigger another migraine for the kid. He was barely pushing through when Hop picked him up yesterday, but seems to be feeling better today.

“Munson, I need you to tone it down,” Hopper argues. It goes unnoticed.

Steve’s sputtering. He runs a nervous hand through his hair and of-fucking-course Munson gasps, swoons just like El. Harrington’s free hand fumbles for a shirt hem that isn’t there. He realizes he’s half naked and turns into a deer in headlights, hands frantically moving over his chest like he doesn’t know how to hide himself. Unfortunately the unintentional groping sends Munson into a coughing fit. 

“Me? What the hell are you doing here, Munson?”

Munson scoffs, crossing his arms as he backs himself into the wall behind him. “The high and mighty Chief of Police here basically kidnapped me. Forced me to pack a bag and tossed me into his truck.” Ah, there’s the Munson he expected. Except if it wasn’t for how many times Hopper’s hauled the kid in, he might not have noticed the nervous energy in Eddie’s twitchy fingers and shifty eyes. “He failed to mention–” he waves around at everything until Munson’s wild gesturing lands on a half-naked, sweats hung low, hair slicked back, barefoot Steve Harrington.

The squeal of El’s door opening behind him propels Hopper full-speed into the living room towards Steve’s duffle. He pulls out the first shirt he manages to find. It hits Steve in the face, and they both breathe a sigh of relief when he pulls it on.

“Aww,” El complains, before her eyes grow ten sizes too big when she catches Hopper glaring back at her. 

“Who the hell is this guy?” Max asks. She makes her way toward the kitchen, dragging El with her to help pull out dishes and cups. 

“Apparently another kidnapping victim.” Steve huffs, annoyed, before making his way over to the girls. “Munson, get over here and help me set the food out.”

Steve doesn’t even look up from where he’s pulling a large cast iron out of the oven, so he misses the absolutely priceless distress scrawled into Eddie’s bulging eyes and flapping hands. Looking back and forth between Harrington and Hopper, Eddie points to himself in confusion as if Steve hadn’t asked him by name. Hopper can only chuckle at the kid’s antics. He rolls his eyes and tilts his head toward the kitchen so Munson finally gets the jist, moving across the cabin in double-time. 

It’s a more intense Christmas dinner than Hopper was hoping for, but after introductions and a full stomach, everyone’s relaxed a bit. El and Max curl up on the couch next to him, snuggled under the same blanket surrounded by bowls of popcorn and half eaten bags of candy. The boys, finally over whatever awkward tension laced between them earlier, are sitting rather comfortably next to each other, poking fun at the cliche holiday movies that Hopper secretly enjoys.

Well after the girls are tucked in and the boys have set up a mess of sleeping bags and blankets on the living room floor, Hopper moves quiet as a mouse across the trailer to Eddie’s duffle. After a quick search, he pulls a joint from a hidden zipper pocket hand-sewn inside the lining.

Kid must think he’s so smart, like he’s the first guy to ever sell drugs.

Hopper deserves a little treat after all the shit he’s been through this year. It’s been ages since he’s smoked, and with the boys here to help watch over the kids, he thinks he can allow himself time to relax for just a little bit. He’s earned it. Plus, it’s not his fault the damned kid decided to try to sneak his stash here. Hop’s not an idiot, even though the boys clearly thought so when they went out for some ‘fresh air’ earlier and came back looking a little less fresh than when they left.

So he brushes the snow off of his favorite lawn chair, wraps himself up in a tattered old blanket, and lights up in the cold, winter air. 

Hop loved smoking in high school, so he takes a long inhale, reveling in the burn heating his chest. Unfortunately, Hopper hasn’t been a teenager in a long, long time. His coughing fit is loud enough to wake his non-existent neighbors. But when he can finally breathe fresh air again, there’s no noise to be heard from inside.

He goes slower this time, tugging on little puffs as he watches the snow fall between the pine trees. It’s quiet, a good quiet, filled with the rustling of rabbits in the brush and bugs singing in the night. Even the joint is absolute shit, like most of Munson’s wares. It’s still enough for him to relax, to appreciate what unfortunate circumstances have gifted him, and keep him from dwelling on what he’s lost. 

Less than an hour’s passed when a pair of headlights shine down the drive. Wayne steps out of his beat-up truck, in only slightly better condition than Eddie’s van, and makes his way over. Without a word, Hopper gets up and grabs another folding chair propped against the end-railing and sets it next to his own.

The joint’s gone by now, but Hopper pulls out a pack of smokes and offers one to Wayne, who silently takes it with just a slight nod of his head in thanks. Out of the corner of his eye, Hopper notices Wayne’s worn-down work boots have a gash at the front, exposing the hard steel underneath the suede. He’s wearing a large, thick flannel that looks exactly like the one Eddie was wearing when Hopper found him, and it’s just as oversized on the old man. 

There’s almost nothing similar between Wayne and his nephew. Wayne’s always been a quiet one. A guy who’d make his way to the back of a crowded room, who kept his head down when he knew what was good for him. And Eddie is– is really just something else. Loud, obnoxious, brash, a kid with a well-crafted personality faker than government coverup. Almost one of a kind, if Hopper didn’t happen to know another boy just like him.

Wayne clears his throat, stubs out the bud with his boot in a little pile of snow. “Got a note from my foreman saying you kidnapped my boy.” His tone is gruff, but Hopper catches the small uptick to the man’s chapped lips.

He doesn’t say anything when Hopper heads inside. It takes him a minute to find the wrapped bottle and two glasses. While he meanders around, he checks that the boys are still both snoring away and the girls are sound asleep amidst a pile of stuffed animals.

When he closes the front door behind him, Jim hands the bottle to Wayne and sets the two glasses into the snow between them. Wayne hums in thought, turning the bottle over in his hand. “Macallen single?”

Jim actually croaks, chest light and filled with laughter when he clocks the mirth in Wayne’s teasing eyes. Maybe him and Eddie aren’t so different after all, both having a shithead sense of humor.

“Just Johnny.” Jim wipes a hand down his face like that’ll hide the sincerity in his smile. “You helped patch up my kid, Wayne. You didn’t save the goddamn world.”

The light in Wayne’s eyes dims only slightly. Instead of unwrapping the bottle, he unscrews the lid off the top, ripping the paper off with it, and pours them both half a glass. They silently cheers, even though the air between them has shifted slightly. 

“Thought that boy was a Harrington, not a Hopper.” It should sting, but it doesn’t, because Wayne’s not that type of man. It’s a genuine question, one that Jim’s not sure how to answer. So he keeps silent, hoping Wayne will cave and move on like his kid does when things stay too quiet. But Wayne sits, and sits, and his own gut finally starts to roil. Ah, so that's what it feels like.

“Apparently I’m good at picking up strays.” Jim’s attempt at a joke falls flat between them. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Although, I think I got to Harrington a little too late.”

Wayne takes a decent sip from his glass, smacking his lips together. He peers out into the dark, just beyond the porch railing. But Jim can tell he’s not looking at the woods in front of them or the starry sky overhead. Wayne’s looking at something that’s long behind him.

“Ya know, Harrington didn’t look much different than my boy did when he showed up lookin’ like a dropped sack of peaches. Just a little thing he was; no hair, clothes that didn’t fit. Hell, I’d almost been able to see his ribs if it weren't for the bruises.” Wayne’s looking down at his feet now, scuffing the snow off the bottom of his boots. He downs his glass in one go before pouring himself another. 

“I beat myself up for too long for not doing something sooner. My own nephew, my own brother, livin’ only two towns over, and I had no idea it was that bad. Told m’self over and over that I should’ve known, should’ve helped sooner.” Wayne heaves a heavy sigh before looking up at Jim again. There’s guilt in the crinkles around his eyes, but it’s quickly replaced with resolve. “You might not’ve always been there for the Harrington kid, but that don’t mean he don’t need you now. Maybe more than ever, by the look of him. And if he’s got you watchin’ out for him, maybe he’ll turn out more Hopper than Harrington afterall.”

Jim can’t take the intense eye contact anymore and firmly looks away, finishing his glass and extending it out to Wayne for a refill. It’s quiet, Wayne’s patience sitting on his shoulders like the world’s most uncomfortable blanket. But even blankets that are scratchy as hell can still be warm.

After a while, the silence releases enough tension that he can sit back again, and the two men slowly sip their whiskey and watch dawn break through the trees. Wayne grabs the bottle as he moves to stand and pats Jim’s shoulder a little too hard. The man’s stronger than he looks.

“Why don’t you bring Eddie back yourself a little bit later, give me a chance to fix that radiator. Plus, being around Harrington might be good for him,” he chuckles to himself, hopping into his truck. “Maybe show the boy not every kid who don’t wear all black ain’t a damn conformist suburban yuppie.” Jim laughs, Wayne’s mockery a spot on impression.

All’s still quiet in the cabin, each kid right where he left them. He’s not sure if it’s the joint, the two whiskeys, Wayne’s advice, or just a combination of everything, but there’s a heat behind his eyes he hasn’t had to deal with in a long time. He’s not typically a crier– happy or sad. The only time he’s cried since Sarah was in the elevator shaft, El collapsed in his arms just after closing the gate. And even then, it was only a few stray tears.

Now he’s unspooling wads of toilet paper to blow his damn nose in, crying like a kid who got coal in their stocking. Except this isn’t like when he thought he’d lost El, or when he’d held Sarah’s hand when she took her last breath. Jim Hopper’s happier than he’s been in a long, long time. And after the shit awful year he’s had– that they’ve all had– he lets himself revel in the joy of having a family again.

Gorgeous graphics provided by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

And as always, thank you to @carolperkinsexgirlfriend for telling me "I think your calling might be writing well-meaning, grumpy old men" and also, "you just understand the spirit of The Old Man", but mostly just thank you for being an amazing beta reader <3

[salmon-vive]

just reread your last comic-if will really isn't a threat to ford's dimension, why IS he keeping will in a cage? what i mean is, why did ford go from treating will gently and preciously to treating him like an animal? what happened????

also, how is will there physically? why does he need the portal opened if he's already there? i love your comic, hope its ok i have so many questions!

First of all, im glad you like my comics anon!

Explanation:

¿What happened? thats the same question Will does to himself after crossing the portal. in my comics the silly or calm moments (usually with lighter colors) are the past. Will in a cage is the present, and technically, hes a threat for for dimension since he's powerful ( the cage keep those powers contained).The possible damages Will could do or consequences of the portal where supposed to be studied just for a while...by both of them...but well, that's not what happened.

And, about Ford feelings towards Will, well. birdcage instead of something else, triangles in his clothes... i think that can give you an idea, he still adored Will, in a way.

Hope this gives you a better context! questions are what keep running this blog! however, hope i made this understandable and not mess up by my inexperience in telling stories haha-

NOTES OF TORTURED ARTIST:

i think something possessed me to make this more elaborated. maybe the blog is making me draw faster? idk- dunno if i could do this again. Also, sorry if there's a mistake, i don't respect english at all (For legal reasons this is a joke and actually I would be grateful If there's any corrections-)

[love-at-first-sight-23]

Obx Headcanons Part 1|What Gifts to Give them

Any gender, SFW, romantic or platonic, no warnings (except JJ and Rafe by themselves?)

—Header from saradika-graphics—

JJ:

Get him a new surfboard, surfboard polish, a surfboard stand— ok, we get it, he loves surfboards. 

A new pair of sunglasses or a skateboard would also send this man crazy.

(And if we’re being honest, he’d love a nice shiny new gun 😂.)

He’s likely to be pretty chilled out about receiving gifts, unless his inner child happens to be out and he starts running around the house like your dog when they get the Zoomies.

Kinda like this.

Rafe:

(Help, it keeps autocorrecting to Rage.) 

Rafe would be surprised to get a gift from you in the first place, but don’t take his awkwardness as him being ungrateful. 

He’d appreciate anything you get for him (hopefully) and try his shot on finding something for you as well. It’ll be store-bought but hey, it’s the thought that counts.

As for what to get him, let it be anything but cocaine or alcohol. We all know the reasons why this is a bad idea. 

Just find him a nice tie or fancy ring, and he’ll be perfectly happy. Cologne, anyone?

Kiara:

Kiara, whether you’re a friend or dating, would be super grateful about receiving a gift no matter what it is.

In the case that she doesn’t like it, which isn’t likely, well, at least there’s the gift receipt. (Right?)

She’d love some handmade jewelry or something crafty, possibly something nature-related per her activist persona. (Maybe a small wooden whale to place on her nightstand?)

If it’s jewelry, you can expect her to wear it every day of the week and show it to her friends —(“Guys, look at the ___ y/n got me! Isn’t it gorgeous?”)— whilst taking good care of it.

Pope:

Pope is probably one of the best when it comes to gift giving— He’ll be chill with a smile on his face, polite as he always is.

Really though, he’s grateful. If you’re dating, don’t be surprised to see a blush on his face. On second thought, he might blush anyway out of embarrassment.

A nice book or a quality pack of pencils is all you need to make him happy.

If you’re leaning away from the nerdier side, how about a new hiking backpack or a fishing rod?

John B:

Awkward about receiving gifts? Yes. Happy though? Also yes.

He’d love a surfboard like JJ or something that reminds him of his friends. That’s part of the spirit of Christmas, isn’t it?

A picture frame of his closest friends, a bracelet with your names on it, or a photo album of all you guys waving to him will hit right home.

Booker is John’s middle name, so he might just book it on out of there he’s so emotional— no? Nevermind.

(Side note: don’t buy him a gun like JJ.)

Sarah:

Sarah is the best at receiving gifts— case closed. She’s the sweetest thing ever; the only thing she enjoys more than recieving gifts from you are giving them. True beauty of Christmas.

Sarah will literally squeal with delight when she opens the beautiful gift you’ve wrapped just for her. Expect hand-written thank you cards sent to your address.

Cute jewelry, a stylish new sweatshirt, or her favorite box of chocolates fit her vibe.

Have a blast shopping for/with her for the holidays!

Cleo:

Gotta include my fave girl boss!

Cleo will take anything you gift her to heart. Trust me, this woman will never let an act that means so much to her go to waste.

Cleo’s gotta admit, her new friends grew on her. She’ll treasure that present of yours forever. A hug or a thank-you card good enough for thanks?

Make her something with the shells from the beach or a glamorous woven-style bag to feel unique and extra-special to her ❤️

Ooh, don’t forget about some sharpening tools for her knives~

[ninjawitdaddyissues]

The Phrine™️

Aucktit/Phuckland was a fucking dream I have so so many thoughts and it's taken me a few days to actually emotionally process the whole thing.

Meeting the internet homies from the server was so much fucking fun. Shout out to the main organisers @shitwheresfoxy & @boardgamedanny.

Also meeting all the other kind, funny, cool asf phannies in line and when we got to the venue (super early) was dope asf. I truly fucking love this phandom so much. The community vibe was elite and being in a room full of absolute nerds feeling collective unrestrained joy is a feeling I will never forget.

As for the damn talent, I got gifted and swapped so many cool crafts, much of which is pictured in the above shrine!

@boardgamedanny - Bracelets out the wazoo, phonecharm, giving me the phedrooms box prop & sleeves for me photocards

@shitwheresfoxy - Your Ex mag, bracelets in a special lil baggy (my actual heart grew 3 sizes when presented w/the baggy)

@peter-must-die - Phivorce Bracelet >:)

@einsteinfrizz - TIT pin (2 more are on me bag and the Dr's at the hospital did cackle at them the other night - especially the slut toast one)

@pidglette - Rainbow Glow Project - you did so fucking good dude

@pissterdaniel - Bracelet, lesbian dnp phlag & Crochet Sister Daniel & Father Philip photocards (iconic asf)

So much cherry sticker - Made by JAB (I don't have ur handle sorry) & handed out by Gemma (again no handle!!)

TIT 2024 Art card - an angel who I met at the venue super early who I never got the @ for!!!

Other bracelets I didn't get the @ for but trust & believe they are loved and cherished!

I am so unbelievably grateful to all the absolute angels who I met who contributed to making TIT Auckland an absolute vibe and a week I will never forget.

And finally, thank you @danielhowell & @amazingphil for the beautiful community you guys incidentally created by being your silly selves on the internet. We say all the time that you're our dad's, and based on the humans I met last week, you did just fine raising us <3 Thank you.

[perotovar]

my favorite things i've made 2024

tagged by @jolapeno @almostfoxglove @morallyinept @schnarfer @iamasaddie

@kedsandtubesocks @chronically-ghosted @moonlitbirdie and @arcanefox207 ♥

alright, y'all, i can't believe this year is ending soon 🥹 as we all know, this year has had a lot of ups and downs, but i can't help but feel like pedro did when he got his sag award, y'know??

i'm so grateful for all of you, and i can't wait to see what the new year brings. new p boys, new premieres/press tours?? sounds like heaven to me ♥

now, i've been tagged to toot my own horn a little bit and i guess i can, fine :P i don't normally like to, but i've been tagged by some wonderful, lovely friends to do so

below, will be both fics and gifs i've made this year that i'm pretty proud of!

before anything, i just wanna say, i'm super fucking proud of my Offering of Frith writing challenge. y'all did such an amazing job on every single one of the fics. i worked super hard on that and it was SO fun. i'd love to do another challenge in 2025, so i may do some brainstorming ✏️👀

fics:

bloody kisses -> alright, i'm gonna be real with y'all. this is my favorite thing i've ever written. okay, maybe not ever, but it's definitely tied with itbotn. i really love how quickly and easily this universe came together for me, and the little cult following that it has makes me so happy. they've almost got a little life of their own. i really, really wanna get back to them. i've got an idea that i'd love to get down, and now that a lot of the pressures of school are a little lessened, i might make it happen soon!

into the beat of the night ch 7 - "in my side" -> this chapter didn't get as much attention as the rest of the series, and that's okay, but i'm still proud of it for stepping out of my comfort zone. it was an area i was afraid would be a little taboo (since it covers deadnaming, misgendering, and past abusive relationships) so it's a little more serious than the series tends to be. i like what it means for river and frankie's relationship and it cements how they feel about each other, y'know?

into the beat of the night ch 8 - "deeper and deeper" -> and now for something completely different lol i like this chapter because it could've only happened after the experience with river's ex. they're completely comfortable with each other now and this was the last of frankie's walls coming down. i love them ♥

gifs:

the pedro pascal fandom moodboard that i made for the friendship exchange cat and han hosted ♥ i love how that turned out because it's the exact experience i have in this fandom lol

gideon @sp00kymulderr 's birthday present ♥ i adore our little disaster bi raccoon man and i love making these silly sets like this. i also love gideon so i'm glad they were the recipient for this!

silly pedro during the gladiator 2 press ♥ again, i love making these goofier sets. they're super fun to make and the end result is always really rewarding. and maybe i just like making myself laugh LMAO

i love you guys and i hope the new year treats you all well ♥

np tags: @for-a-longlongtime @schnarfer @iero @userparamore @djo

@miwtual @tomshiddles @gasolinerainbowpuddles @mrsmando @ghostofaboy

@missredherring @cavillscurls @beardedjoel @beefrobeefcal @quinnnfabrgay

@hellishjoel @max--phillips @oonajaeadira @wethairjoel @pedgito and literally anyone that wants to/sees this! i'm sorry if you already have done this or i missed you, it wasn't on purpose 🥲

[koolades-world]

this request was from an irl friend of mine who gave me a request despite not knowing anything about om after i told her i was sad about having no holiday requests (at the time). thank you sm🥺🥺

the request was to do two favs of mine or the two that hated each other the most with the gingerbread house prompt! tbh this is the week of gingerbread houses for me bc i did the other request for this prompt, did a mini diamond art gingerbread house (that lights up!), and did a real gingerbread house with another irl friend. i also might be doing one with my aunt and cousins too. i decided to go with the hate version just because when do i do that?

alright, enough yapping from me. thank you again bestie!!!

prompt 11 w/ solomon and barbatos

You weren't entirely sure how'd you landed yourself in this situation, but it felt like these sorts of things always happened to you.

Initially, you'd invited Barbatos over to the HoL to do some fun holiday baking. Something like this would usually happen at the Demon Lord's Palace, but the Little D's seemed to be up to something that meant Barbatos wasn't allowed in his own kitchen. The both of you were more amused than anything by this. Your plans were easily moved to your kitchen instead.

From there, everything seemed like it was going smoothly. With Barbatos' talent, despite the kitchen and oven downsize, everything was going just as planned. The entire house was filled with the smell of baked goods, making you grateful Beel wasn't home. The smell attracted the various brothers that did happen to be home, but they were much easier to ward off, thankfully.

Mammon swung by first, swiping whatever cookies happened to be closest to him. After you gave him a couple deliberately, Barbatos scared him off with a glare. Belphie was next, but he only came around to say hello. You sent him on his way with some peppermint bark and a promise not to tell Beel. It was the last brother that showed up that caused the most problems. While Asmo himself wasn't the end of the world, it was the sorcerer that followed him around like a shadow that was.

"Mc! Great to see you." Asmo gave you a tight squeeze from behind.

"Hey Asmo. How was your night out yesterday?" You turned to greet him properly.

"Super fun! I'll have to take you to that spot sometime soon. They had the tastiest holiday specials." He raved about the spot he'd just been to.

"I'm looking forward to it." You gave the dough you were working on one final mix, and decided it was ready to bake.

"What are you making?" He peered into the bowl.

"This is just chocolate chip cookie dough, but we're making lots of other kinds." Barbatos appeared beside you, ready to take the dough from you, when a scowl crossed his face.

"Solomon." He sounded less than pleased.

"Barbatos! Lovely to see you." Solomon, who'd seemingly appeared out of nowhere, waved at the both of you from over Asmo's shoulder.

"Hi Solomon." You were much happier to see him than your partner. Barbatos vanished with the dough, likely deciding to wait out Solomon so he could continue his time with you. Little did he know, he wouldn't be able to shake him so easily.

Even after Asmo left, Solomon stuck around. While you enjoyed his presences, neither you nor Barbatos wanted him around any of the food. You tried everything you could while at the same time, trying not to be rude. Barbatos was much more blunt. Instead of trying to distract him, Barbatos would flat out tell him to scram. However, since it was Solomon, that didn't work. Especially since you happened to be there too.

The last task on your list was arguably the most fun: gingerbread house decorating. Solomon watched carefully and talked your ear off while you assisted Barbatos in assembling the house.

"Since you've stuck around this entire time, do you want to help us decorate it?" You presented Solomon with a piping bag. His eyes lit up.

"Would I? It would be an honor." He exclaimed. Barbatos sighed, but since it was you, he didn't protest. However, he didn't take his eyes off Solomon once. As you gathered the candy you planned to stick on, Barbatos let out a sigh as Solomon exclaimed he'd be right back.

"Are you sure you want him here?" He turned back towards you, a look of slight annoyance on his face. You leant in and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, melting that look.

"He wants to be included too, y'know. Just because you hate him doesn't mean I do." You rolled your eyes and turned back to the gingerbread house. While Solomon was gone, for whatever reason that was, the two of you made great progress. When he returned, however, things went downhill, like Barbatos had expected.

The both of you made the mistake of turning your backs on him at the same time, and when you looked back, the house was in a pile where it used to stand. Solomon gave a shrug that felt like something you'd see in a cartoon.

What had you expected anyways?

[eldritchxembers]

Sebastian's smile softened as he took a sip of the coffee and a bite of the banana nut bread, savoring the sweetness that lingered on his tongue. The bread was warm, comforting, and much more enjoyable than he'd expected. He didn’t usually have much of a chance to indulge in treats like this, as he worked until he was too tired to stand - that way he didn't have to dream. He learned if he ate a little, he would be far more tired at night than if he ate enough.

He looked up at Brook, grateful for the coffee and the treat. The gesture was small and thoughtful, and Sebastian wasn’t used to people taking care of him... not that he was doing a great job taking care of himself right now.

"You didn’t have to, you know," he murmured, the smile slightly embarrassed, as if he were slightly unsure of how to fully embrace the small act of kindness. "But... thank you. I’ve never been great with people doing things for me."

There was a brief silence, then he looked down at the coffee, swirling it in his cup. The warmth from both the drink and the gesture seemed to seep into him slowly. It was neighborly what Brook had done for him.

A thoughtful expression crossing his face, as he considered what he wanted to say. He had grown used to the quiet of his shop, the hum of the radio filling the space as he worked, but something about Brook’s kindness stirred a deeper reflection in him. He found himself wanting to share more than he usually did, to offer an explanation for why things were the way they were.

"My grandmother," he began, his voice taking on a contemplative tone, "she owned this place long before I ever thought about it. Long before I was born, and she built it from the ground up. When she died, I inherited it... and, well, I didn’t know what to do with it at first. Didn't really want it." He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "She was a... unique woman. Strong-willed. She ran the shop with a fierce sort of care, always focused on the books, on keeping them safe and pristine. It was her life’s work. But it came at cost of her relationships with others."

Sebastian’s gaze shifted, eyes distant for a moment as he recalled the years he’d spent with his grandmother, learning her ways, feeling the weight of her legacy settle on his shoulders.

"But the thing is," he continued, "it’s not just about maintaining the business for the sake of keeping it alive. I want to do it justice, yes, but I also want to do something that matters." He met Brook’s gaze then, his eyes steady but softened by the vulnerability in his words. "I’ve spent so much of my life focused on preserving the past, I never learned how to live in the present." He exhaled. "So there you have it, one very awkward book restorationist trying to make conversation."

Sebastian was a nice guy. That was what Brook kept thinking as he went to The Ceramic Cup to get the man some coffee. Ever since leaving Mass Gen, Brook was realizing just how socially awkward he was. And of course he was - he had never had to socialize outside of work and family, not really, and now he felt like he was playing catch up. Not everyone would respond to that so positively either, to his little social quirks, but so far Brook hadn't had much trouble with the residents of Cardinal Hill. Yes, he knew that was partially due to the fact that he was a successful doctor, and society tended to give people like that more of a pass with these things (whether or not they deserved it), but still, Brook had been enjoying the neighborly, pleasant vibe of the townspeople. While the circumstances that brought him here hadn't been ideal to say the least, Brook was happy to be slowly carving out a place for himself here.

Once at the Ceramic Cup, he decided to get some coffee for himself as well, the same that Sebastian was having, and he thought maybe he should get the man snack as well. Brook wanted to show his appreciation, both for his expertise as well as his kindness. You should have asked him what he liked, Brook told himself, but alas, it was too late now. If only he could call the man on the go. With no other feasible option, Brook decided to just get something he liked and hope for the best. So a few minutes later, Brook was headed back to Sebastian's shop with two coffees and two pieces of fresh, warm banana nut bread. The smell of it had Brook practically salivating on the way back.

"Coffee has arrived!" he called as he entered the shop, approaching Sebastian once more with a smile on his face. He saw that Sebastian was slowly making progress, and Brook said, "It's okay. I want it done right, which I'm not worried about because I can tell you take your work seriously. If I need to manage without it, I'll manage without it." Setting Sebastian's coffee down in a nearby - but not too close so as not to risk spilling it - place, Brook told him about the banana nut bread as well. "I wasn't sure what to get you," he told the other man, "so I hope you like this."

[hanzajesthanza]

you are reading witcher fanfiction on ao3, i am reading witcher fanfiction on the sapkowski zone using the wayback machine and copious amounts of google translate. we are not the same

[dykedvonte]

I think the most baffling thing about the Tulpar as a vessel to me is the fact that the ship really did only have a one way communication system.

I know it was cheap but even the most basic of vessels regarding major transport would have some way, shape or form for outside communication. Not only that but there was absolutely no form of innate emergency signal to show they may have been offline or in trouble despite clearly having a system to dock credits if they went off course. It's another factor that really shows that bad situations are made to get worse by design. One person who is required to relay all information to the crew and make all the choices without feedback. No way to update or call for help in case of a dire situation. No way to inform of inner personal conflicts and acquire procedures accordingly.

It really is like they are all in some sort of fucked up solitary confinement. They have their own world with strict roles that are meaningless in the end, as long as the cargo makes it, it doesn't matter what happens on that ship to the company. They don't want to hear anything and will come to conclusions on what happened based on how much pay they can withhold from the workers. Even what they do send is short, sterile and corporate to the extent it was likely written and sent out with a command by some random unmanned computer in an office.

There's something to be said about how unfair it is to force absolute power and control onto one person when you as an entity could do so much more to offload it but I've said it many times before so I won't again.

[lunarharp]

wip thing...

of my bg3 avatar hellebore. i also did some casual nude studies of my 3 characters which i'll put under a cut... rather unlike me after all. (so WARNING for abrupt non-sexual full Artistic nudity lol...,,,,) (< won't be making a habit of this)

they mean the world to me

[queseraphita]

*sees the stargazer right next to the boss room knowing exactly who I'm up against* oh... how kind of them... :)

[silouvertongues]

gotta get up early for class tomorrow im so sleepy but i suddenly felt the urge to calculate how much money's been spent on my post secondary education till now and i literally feel nauseous

[lunacornfan2k24]

A small fandom: Why isn’t there more fics of these characters???

Me: Hi! I’m a prominent writer in the fandom and I know I’m known for writing for one ship/characters but I’m looking to expand to other ships and characters and would like ideas from people to do it!

The same people: *ignores my post and doesn’t submit any fic requests*

The same people: Why aren’t there more fics of these characters???

[ephemeral-winter]

eating fresh madeleines right out of the pan. well that's an experience that makes me believe in god all over again

[steviescrystals]

i will never shut up about how much i hate the college system in the us and the way it’s all about money because i genuinely love learning and i miss being in school so fucking bad but i simply cannot afford the education i want

[detective-piplup]

thinking about brian aurum again guys. also like beware the tags genuinely this time he has a bad time