#i was mad at someone for not giving a shit about me but then i ended up buying him coffee because i needed company

[babymorte]

im talking to my friend about all the people that im leaving behind in 2025 and i told him hes part of the list cuz im done associating with fuckbois and now hes trying to convince me why he should be the exception n at this point i just wanna block his ass now

[notlemoncello]

I’m so fucking mad are you kidding me

“He’s screaming at people”

“He wasn’t even insured by UnitedHealth Care”

“Why didn’t he protest instead of shooting someone”

Why is the news pretending to be shocked at what is happening. America is a capitalist country, it will get away with as much as it can until there’s push back from the people affected. This is push back. Protests didn’t work, asking nicely didn’t work, pleading, begging, crying didn’t work.

What else can people do to make sure they are heard?

The federal government adding on charges after the state government already had charges is bullshit and dogpiling at best, the possibility of the death penalty on the federal level being on the table is even more bullshit. Personally I don’t give a shit what you did, no one should get the death penalty.

The government should not decide whose lives deserve to end.

Outside of that is genuinely costs more money for the government to kill someone than keep them in prison for life. Where the hell is “we need to decrease the National Debt” thinking now??

All of this truly shows how much the United States Government cares about the lives of CEOs, business, and corporations more that the lives of American Citizens.

If you are going to call me a dog then don’t be surprised if I bite like one.

[lavnderwonu]

book lovers | wen junhui

pairing: bookish!jun x bookish!fem!reader

genre: college au, strangers to lovers, fluff, smut

rating: mature

summary: working at your campus library and attending classes gets kinda lonely, until someone comes along and changes that.

warnings: contains smut (!!!), meet-cute, jun is tooth rottenly sweet (yes! that’s a warning!), semi public sex (in a library), unprotected sex, kinda sorta a quickie(?) idk its sorta rushed, bigdick! jun, size kink, oral sex (f. receiving), multiple orgasms.

mini playlist 🎵: into you by ariana grande, little bit by lykke li, feel you by okayceci

word count: 2.3k

author’s note!: AHHHH this was so much fun to write. i literally spent so much time daydreaming about this whole plot & the characters. im a little women enthusiast & a classic book lover, i know im a nerd! also i will always always find an excuse to write fluff. i just love love love writing cute shit! im sort of a sucker for it. THIS WAS IN MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG TOO LMAO but as always, i appreciate any feedback, & i hope you enjoy! 🩷

click here to join my taglist!

“So… you’re assignment is to read the passage, then write a minimum 3 page essay whether you agree or disagree with the author’s viewpoint.”

Your professor gestures to the board behind him, emphasizing how important it is to acknowledge.

“Due by Monday, I won’t be giving any extensions. Class dismissed.”

“Y/n.” Your friend nudges you, as you currently have your face buried in your book, totally ignoring the lecture. “C’mon, class is over… did you even hear what the assignment was?”

You shut your book, Little Women, a book you’ve read numerous times but you never got sick of. It was a million times more appealing than hearing your literature professor ramble during a lecture.

“Yeah… some three page essay.” You remark, tossing the book in your bag. “I gotta hurry, I have a shift at the library for a few hours. Text me the assignment, okay?”

She nods. “Yeah, of course. I’ll see you later.”

You quickly grab your binder & notebook and walk out of class, headed for the library.

You’re about halfway there, until someone passing by bumps your shoulder, knocking your things to the ground.

Crouching down to pick them up, you hear somebody shouting sorry! in the distance as you mumble under your breath, “Doesn’t anybody watch where they’re going? Jesus…”

You’re gathering up some papers that fell out of your binder, until you spot an extra set of hands suddenly helping you, and a voice saying, “Let me help you with that.”

You look up, eyes locking with a tall, cute brown-haired boy, whom was now handing you your papers and notebook.

“Sorry, I couldn’t just walk by and not help. People can be so rude.” He smiles sweetly, handing over your papers he picked up. “I’m Jun, I’m in your literature class.”

“Y/n, and thanks, it’s what I get for not paying attention in lecture I guess.” You joke, finishing putting your stuff away as you both stand.

“How is Little Women?” Jun asks.

“I’ve read it before, it’s one of my favorite— wait how did you know that’s what i was reading?”

He laughs. “I saw you reading it in class, you have an incredible attention span. Quite impressive actually.”

“Last week, you read Jane Eyre, and during lecture Soonyoung came in late and the professor got mad, then they both got into this whole big argument, but you didn’t look up once, just kept reading. I’ve been watching you.

“Watching me?” You must have a confused, creeped out look on your face, cause the way he responds next makes you laugh.

“No, No, I don’t mean that in a creepy way like I’m watching you, I just mean that I noticed you, that’s all.”

You couldn’t help but blush, avoiding his gaze for a moment.

A cute boy like him noticed you?

“Laurie proposes to Jo and she says no, even though she’s still in love with him!” You exclaim, explaining your favorite book to Jun, as he holds it in his hands. “I cannot believe you never read it before.”

He shrugs, “I don’t read all that much.”

“We’ll, I think you’ll love it. The story is very enjoyable, and it’s not hard to read, which is surprising since it was written so long ago.” You continue.

“…Would your love for this book have anything to do with the fact that in both movies Laurie was played by Christian Bale, and Timothee Chalamet?”

“No,” You fail at attempting to hide your grin. “But it’s an added bonus. Christian Bale is a very underrated Laurie in my opinion, by the way.”

“Okay, I’ll read it,” Jun gives in, examining the book thoroughly and thumbing through it. “When do you need it back?”

“Whenever,” You say. “I don’t need it back by any certain time so you can take your time with it, and really enjoy it.”

“Oh, I know I will.” Jun smiles.

“Make sure you put these all away before you close up tonight,” Your library coworker tells you, as she gets ready to leave for the night. “Apparently the boss said she wants them out on display up front for tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’ll do it right now, before I forget,” You reply, retrieving the small stack from the counter. “I have to run those returns upstairs to reshelve.” 

You walk over to the front table just as you hear the door open. 

“We close in thirty- oh! It’s you.” Your coworker says, making you turn around to see who it was. 

It was Jun. “Y/n! Your boyfriend is here.” 

You smile at him as he walks over to you, “What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to see if you wanted to do something tonight, maybe dinner… a movie?” He says, as he now towers over you & kisses your forehead. “You’re already dressed cute,” he makes note of your outfit. “I like that skirt.”

“I’m working right now…” You sigh.

“That’s okay, I can wait. I only have…” Jun checks his watch. “Oh, twenty five minutes now.” 

“Whatever,” You smile as you chuckle at him. “Just go sit at the desk, don’t mess up anything.” 

“Oh, before I forget, I brought your book back.” Jun starts as he sits down, reaching into his book bag. 

“There’s no way you already finished it. I gave it to you yesterday.” 

“I just wanted to leave you some notes in the margins for you.” Jun says, handing the book over to you.

You flip through the book, seeing how it’s littered with sticky notes and tabs, marking the different pages.

“You’ve read this before…” You glance over the notes written on a page. 

“A few times.” He smiles as your eyes meet his.

“I thought you didn’t read much?” 

“What is much…?” 

You lean in closer to him, kissing him. “You’re unbelievable.” You smile.

“You liked it? I was wondering if you’d be mad if I nearly defaced your book.” He says, with a chuckle.

“No, no, I couldn’t be mad,” You smile, playfully running your fingers through his hair. “Besides you didn’t actually write in it, if you did, that might be a different story.”

You kiss him one more time, “Well I have some stuff to finish really quick, wait here?” 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine. I’m sure I can find something to keep me entertained for a few.” Jun remarks, picking up a book that was in the return stack on the counter.

You finish up the rest of your display, and the returns you had to put away (…even unfortunately stealing the book that Jun was occupying). Your coworker had left for the night and it was time to close up.

“Okay, that’s it for the night.” You announce to Jun, starting to gather up your things. 

“All done?” 

“Yeah, I think that’s- shit!” You realize you still had stuff to put away upstairs. “I forgot to put these ones upstairs.” You grab the few books.

“Come with me?” 

“You won’t be okay by yourself?” He asks, obviously joking with you.

“Cmon, it’s eerie when it’s so quiet, just cmon.” You grab his hand and nearly pull him to the elevator. 

“These few go over here,” You lead him over to the fiction section. “And these go… over here…” You start walking to the next aisle over.

You reach up to attempt to place the last book on the highest shelf, but you’re just a little too short.

“Can you help me?” You laugh, turning to the 6 foot man standing close to you. “I’m too short for this.”

Jun laughs with you, grabbing the book from you. “Where’s it go?” 

“Right next to that one, with the red cover.” 

He places it on the shelf, “Is that the only one?”

“Yeah, that’s all of them.” 

Jun moves to stand in front of you, conveniently trapping you between him and the bookshelf behind you. You mentally thank whoever designed the floor plan in the library to make the aisles so small.

He moves closer to you, nearly pressing himself against you, so close you can smell the cologne he has on.

“You know I can’t help but realize… we’re all alone here.” 

“Yeah… I know, it’s almost-“ You start, as you're cut off with him kissing you.

You moan against his lips as his hands slide up your cardigan sweater, and he trails kisses down your neck.

“Jun…” You moan, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, kissing your lips again.

“Yes, very much.” You whisper, his face still close to yours. “But we can’t do this here…”

“Why not? There’s nobody here…” Jun whispers, as he kisses your neck a few times.

“The cameras, there’s cameras around here..” You say, then you grab his hand. “Cmon, in here.” You lead him down the hall down to one of the study rooms. 

You enter the dimly lit room, and shut the door behind you, but not before realizing how secluded and somehow intimate these rooms somehow are. Okay… mentally noted.

You sit on the table as Jun slots himself between your thighs, he’s kissing on your neck as he’s pulling your sweater off your body. He pauses to pull his sweater and t-shirt off of himself. 

Jun kisses your lips again, more fervently this time, as you’ve both become more eager.

“Lay back for me.” Jun whispers against your lips.

You kiss him again, tangling your fingers in his long hair as you lean back on the table, and you try not to giggle as his lips trail from your chest, and down your stomach, tickling you a little.

“God, you’re so pretty…” He mumbles into your skin, in between kisses.

You smile as you run your fingers through his hair once more, and you feel Jun’s hands side up your thighs underneath your skirt.

“Can I take these off?” Jun asks, eyes meeting yours as his fingers tug on the waistband of your underwear.

“Yeah…” you speak, lifting your hips to give him better access. You start to take your skirt off, but he stops you. 

“No… leave it on.” Oh. You can feel your face get hot.

After many times being in these study rooms, you couldn’t ever imagine that you’d ever be in here… like this, with a gorgeous boy as he’s taking off your clothes, yet here you are.

“Jun…” You sigh, as his hands are pulling you to the edge of the table, and pushing your thighs apart.

“This okay?” He questions, as he’s putting your legs over his shoulders.

“Yeah…” You breathe, nodding, as your hands find the edge of the table to grip it with anticipation. Afterall, you can’t see him with your skirt in the way… hmm, suppose it's all part of his plan.

“God, you're so wet and all I did was kiss you…” Jun says lowly, kissing your thigh gently as his breath fans over your core. 

You don’t even have a chance to respond before he’s bringing his thumb to your clit, circling it slowly a few times, making your breath hitch at the contact.

“Jun, please…” You whine, aching for more.

“Alright baby…” He all but mumbles back to you, and you feel his tongue slide over your clit, and you throw your head back at the feeling.

“Fuck…” Your brows furrow as your eyes flutter shut, focusing on the feeling. He groans against your clit as he slides two fingers inside you, making you arch your back and practically grind your hips down on his hand.

“Shit, baby…” You whine, as his fingers effortlessly reach your sweet spot repeatedly. “Right there… I’m gonna fucking come…” 

“Go on baby,” Jun pulls back, kissing your thigh a few times, all while his fingers don’t let up “C’mon…”

You practically cry his name, as you feel the orgasm rush over you, leaving your chest heaving as you catch your breath. 

“Are you ready, baby?” Jun whispers to you, as you hear rustling and the clink of a belt buckle as he’s undoing his jeans. 

“Yeah…” You whisper, finally catching your breath, but your breath hitches in your throat as he’s suddenly dragging the tip of his cock through your wet folds, the tip bumping your sensitive clit as you’re hinted at the mere size of him.

He slowly sinks into you, the stretch making your nails dig into his biceps. 

“Fuck…” Jun curses as he hovering over you, kissing your neck as he bottoms out, his thrusts shallow so you can get used to him.

“Jun… shit,” You moan, your fingers threading through his hair. “You’re too big.”

“You can take me.” His lips softly graze your collarbone, just as his hand trails lower and lower, until his fingers find your clit.

You whine his name, suddenly your senses are overwhelmed with the feeling of the pressure on your clit and his cock inside you, hitting spots so deep it almost has you seeing stars.

A particularly hard thrust nearly pushes you further up the table, making you nearly cry as you’re already on the edge.

“Shit, I’m already gonna come…” You cry, arching your back as you already feel the familiar tingle spreading through you, making your toes curl.

“C’mon…” Jun grunts, as his fingers find your clit again, and it feels divine with the way he’s pounding into you. “Come for me… give me one more…”

Your legs shake as you come with a loud cry of his name, he keeps going until he’s coming too, slowly rolling his hips to fuck you through your high.

You both say nothing for a few, catching your breath, until you fully register what you just did.

“Oh my god…” You say as you’re getting dressed. “I cannot believe we just did that…” You cover your face as you blush, but also can’t help but laugh.

Afterall, who would've thought?

“Why are you laughing?” Jun notices you trying to hide the fact that you’re blushing, pulling your hand away. “You didn’t like it?” He already knows the answer. 

“Yeah… but I never thought I’d do that, you know… here.” You smile right before you kiss him. 

“But that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t do it again…”

tags: @chiefjunlover @cosmojinyoung @wonuwrites @aaniag @jenoslutie

[yanoharuhito]

notable funny first impressions and bits from playing YTTD while my friends do the voices, in no specific order

keiji's VA assumed keiji was a member of the mafia (who's bad at hiding it) right from the get go, before knowing he was a cop, and thus giving him a new york accent. decided it was both too funny and fit him too well to let go of.

decided that mishima is a mad scientist who "drinks chemical X"

Qtaro can't find the bathroom, shits in the ruined corridor instead. and is so ashamed about it. this was a bit that kept coming back no matter what we did.

Qtaro eating the me-tokens. and eating the laptop, resulting in a suspiciously laptop shaped shit in the corridor

sou is avidly pro-underage drinking

reko hawking a loogie at the soft spot in ranger's head at terminal velocity to save gin. also, hawking 77 pounds worth of loogies down the spike pit

alice x keiji ?????? it was ironic at first but im starting to think it isn't now

sou's password-finding methods are akin to a monkey at a typewriter. he types every 5-letter combination in alphabetical order until he gets it right. every time we came back to see him trying to get into the laptop he'd be further along in the alphabet

keiji hit his head and got brain damage. he recovered eventually but started using it as an excuse

Qtaro stepped in a bear trap in his room, but assumed he was hallucinating and didn't tell anyone. keiji saw it too but he also assumed he was hallucinating

someone saying "take the shot, kanna" in sou's voice on call which made me dry heave

sou saying "i need to use the bathroom" (IN CANON) and Qtaro going "WHERE?"

sou is mister beast

[a-bad-case-of-the-stephs]

The idea of someone taking “Leslie Thompkins role” is SO interesting to me.

Because what is her role?

It seems like an easy question to answer, but it’s really not.

99.9% of the time someone in the Bat-Family is injured, Leslie Thompkins is completely uninvolved with their recovery.

She’s not really their “medic” then, is she?

Don’t get me wrong, Leslie Thompkins does absolutely have a “role”, but I don’t think it’s medic and it’s not even “emergency medic”. Her appearances don’t really coincide with severity of an injury. Where is she when Bruce’s spine is snapped during Knightfall? Doing her own shit at her clinic. What is she up while Tim is dying of the Clench in Contagion? Trying to save other lives. Alfred took the role of doctor in both of these examples.

My point is, Leslie’s role is tangentially related to medicine, but it’s not the determinant of when she appears.

Her role is that of a non-ignorable moral contrast to Batman. She is a foil and a point of comparison. This is clear because pretty much every time she appears, the scene will not end without a conversation about morality and a disagreement on ethics.

She is not the only character who can have a gripe with how Batman operates: so many vigilantes and supporting characters will disagree with or question Batman’s actions and ethics at times.

However, Leslie is pretty much the only character whose opinion holds significant weight to Bruce.

As his senior, someone who was close with his parents, someone who was there for him once they died Leslie holds a specific vantage point and power when she disagrees with Batman.

Because Batman is who he is, Bruce is never going to immediately crumble under the weight of Leslie’s disappointment, he will never suddenly change the way he operates as Batman. However, it’s obvious that her moral disagreements with him are deeply unsettling for Bruce, and not so easy for him to shake off.

For one, this is because Leslie knew his parents, they were her friends and peers, the parents he started a mad war on crime for, and if she doesn’t think he’s doing the right thing, what does it say about what they would have thought of Bruce? Additinally, her occasionally motherlike relationship to him futher gives her opinion a world which that we see shake Bruce.

Her arguements, her moral scruples, he cannot dismiss them as easily as he does others.

She also serves as a foil to Batman, they both are exceedingly almost obsessively fixated on one view of morality, and both see anything that fails to reach that standard as absolute moral failure.

Leslie’s ethics as a result, both mimic Bruce’s single mindedness in a way that calls into question his authority. Sure, Bruce seems pretty determined his way is the only way, but shit, so is Leslie in the almost exact same manner. And look, if Bruce is shaken by her disappointment, does that mean she’s right?

But at the same time, I believe Leslie’s ethical also points us to see the flaws in the anti-utilitarian bent to Batman’s ethics: the ridiculous results of her absolutist morals in turns ridicules Bruce’s similarly absolutist approach. She is unwilling to restrain Zsasz, a clearly violent man in a camp full of desperate sick people because she’s that against any form of violence for any reason. Her pure and absolutist arguement, to me, points to the strangeness in the absolutism of Batman’s “no death” rule. Both of them are operating little out of the norm: most people agree there are instances where violence, even if just restraining someone actively trying to murder you, is necessary. And, with exceptions, most people agree there are instances where death or even killing can be necessary or ideal. Leslie and Bruce respectively, do not.

All this to say, Leslie has a kind of complicated role. She’s not really a medic first. In Batman stories her role is some kind of point of Moral Contrast which encourages both the reader and Batman to question Bruce’s methods.

Its hard for me to think about how a character might be able to fulfill this same role, they would need some point of advantage which gives their opinion weight to Batman, and also probably her batshit insane ethics. I am very interesting in what that might look like however.

I don’t know if I can see Steph fulfilling that aspect of what I see as the Leslie Thompkins “role”, at least when Bruce Wayne is Batman, due to the sheer fact he has a long history of dismissing her and her opinions out of hand. I don’t know if she would be able to make him question himself, or the audience question him.

From just what we’ve seen of Damian’s decision to take up medicine, he kinda does seem to start to fit a similar role, at least with how Damian has also grounded his medical interest in an emotional connection with Thomas Wayne. However I don’t think he fits the role in the ethical qualm zone, but that could change and I could be wrong.

To me, the question of who could fulfill Leslie’s role gets even more interesting if we’re considering an instance where Batman is no longer Bruce Wayne.

I’ve always wanted Stephanie to take on a Leslie Tompkins role within the Batfamily but as of recently I think Damian might be more suited for that role.

Maybe Damian taking on an Alfred role, that would be fascinating.

[dol--blathanna]

I've already spoke in length about Orym's self-sacrificial tendencies in my 'Orym is a rabbit' post, but don't think I've forgotten about Miss Horse Girl giving Iphigenia vibes over here I just have some concerns about Imogen, whether willingly or forced, becoming a vessel for Predathos (you know, the same entity that Orym tried to comprehend for a single heartbeat and began screaming uncontrollably, had to be cradled like an infant by the Wildmother while he sobbed, and now something inside of him is irreversibly broken). Like I just think that letting an eldritch monster of hunger and oblivion possess you is maybe not a great idea?

One is a rabbit pushing his head willingly into the snare, the other is an ancient Greek princess about to be sacrificed on the altar so the war may continue, and I am asking them both very nicely to Please Stop That and Not Die 🙏💕

[dykedvonte]

Mouthwashing is genuinely one of the first fandom spaces in a while where I’ve seen people outright refuse to curate their own personal spaces and try to shame people for not making what they personal like/believe

Like this is not saying ignore any issues that come up or whatever is serious but like on the general terms of just not interacting with things that are not your personal take or interpretation, a genuine refusal to just look at and create things that you like.

Constantly seeing people repost art without credit to shit talk it and excusing it because “well it’s bad cause insert deeply personal and not actually a valid justification”, calling out people for silly comics or differing interpretations. Its not just a holier than thou mindset it’s just a weird hatred for things not specifically catered to you or your view point at this point and like it’s seriously the case of just follow and like what you want to see and block, mute or whatever doesn’t fit it.

Take this out of context all you like, but I just so odd to me to try and force people to interpret and engage with a media that is supposed to be purposefully vague and open in certain areas. Or just be mad that people like to play with and explore the characters outside the story, in different settings or with twists in events.

Like why is it an issue that someone is having fun with the game in a different way than you?

[anti-ao3]

stop mocking ppl with schizophrenia. stop making fun of them for being weird. stop seeing them as dangerous monsters. it's fucking 2024! why are you STILL dehumanizing ppl with schizophrenia?!!

[irrelevantbutembarrassing]

I'm gonna fucking CRY can you IMAGINE Steve pulling Eddie to the closet where the presents are like "Okay don't be mad???" And Eddie has No Idea where he's going with this but Steve has a whole list and maybe he still has a notebook with the addresses and names of kids who are definitely too grown for Santa now, but these days he's got like the little giving tree cards taped inside with notes on what he already has and what he needs

Literally the first thing Eddie does is call Wayne (and immediately swear him to secrecy) and yell STEVE IS FUCKING SANTA CLAUS.

Wayne: ... pretty sure there's a song about that, bud. Need me to have a talk with your boy?

Eddie, still at full volume: NO OLD MAN. STEVE IS SANTA. STEVE BROUGHT US THE PORCH SANTA PRESENTS AND WROTE US THE ORNAMENT NOTE. HE'S BEEN DOING IT FOR FUCKING YEARS. ALL BY HIMSELF. WAYNE HOLY SHIT

Wayne, internally: knew i liked that kid. Been makin' my boy happy since they were in single digits without so much as a thank you. Nothing like his parents.

Wayne, out loud: hope his handwriting has gotten better. Notes were damn near illegible first couple of years.

Eddie, somehow louder: HOW ARE YOU SO CHILL ABOUT THIS-

And also??? Can you fucking imagine in the early years, some adult in Forest Hills is up late because 2nd/3rd shift or worrying or chores and they happen to look out the window and there's... someone??? Creeping up to the porch next door??????? And maybe they think about calling out but then they realize it has to be a kid, and who tf has their kid out this late, except. The kid is alone. And they're already sneaking away but they've left something behind??? And they've got a tiny wagon and they're squinting at something in their hand but now they're off down the road, pausing in front of each trailer to peer at the number, and up they go to drop something else off???????

They're clearly not causing any trouble and beyond that it's none of their business, so grown up is off to bed and then when they wake up everyone is talking about Santa coming???? And it's not like they saw WHO it was, so they keep quiet and it makes them a little happy, and it keep happening and everyone expects and gets used to it and they want to know but they also don't because it would ruin some of the magic, you know???

From Santa

Prompt: Magic | Rating: G | Wordcount: 2,957 | AO3 | @steddiebingo

Steve was seven when he found out that Santa did not exist. He tried, once, the whole ‘Santa’ thing. After hearing the stories from kids at school, he ran over to Melvald’s and bought a tin of cookies with his allowance before skipping excitedly home. Some of the kids mentioned feeding the magic deer, because flying took a lot out of them obviously, and Steve wasn’t quite sure what magic deer ate, but he left out a few carrots in the yard just in case.

He was so excited, setting out the cookies in front of the big tree in the living room and hoping he’d wake up to find a present underneath, just for him. Maybe it would be a cool Hess Truck like Tommy wanted, or maybe it would be an action figure, or comic books, or maybe his parents would come home. The other kids said Santa was magic, that he could do anything, so Steve wasn’t picky.

He went to bed excited and could barely close his eyes to sleep, but the other kids said Santa didn’t come if you were awake so Steve tried his very best. He finally fell asleep with the taste of ginger snaps on his tongue (there was a whole tin, and Santa had hundreds, maybe thousands of cookies every night, so he didn’t think Santa would mind one less).

He woke up to a spotless and quiet house, no puddles from snow on Santa’s boots, no bites out of the cookies, and no present under the tree. No parents either. Steve didn’t have any more cookies that day. He couldn’t bear it.

When his parents arrived a week later, Steve was greeted not by hugs and exclamations of how much his parents missed him, but by his mother loudly and forcefully demanding answers to why her yard was scattered with gross old carrots, drying and cracking and covered in mud from the melted snow. So he told her. He told her about Santa and how he wanted him to come, how he went to bed early like a good boy, and waited all night. How he didn’t show up.

She laughed.

It was cold and icy, like the shards still hanging from the gutters on their roof. She told him he shouldn’t be impatient for his presents — they were in the car like always — and really, Steven, it doesn’t look good for a boy to be so demanding, and the presents certainly weren’t from Santa because the man did not exist.

Santa didn’t exist.

So yes, Steve knew from a young age that the jolly man in the coat and hat was simply a lie — told to children to excite them and give them something to look forward to. He didn’t really get it at first; were the presents not enough? Was the week off from school not exciting? Did they not look forward to Christmas morning without the story of a man sneaking down the chimney? But he’d also fallen for it. He was so excited, he liked the idea of feeding the magic deer, and leaving a treat out for someone delivering gifts out of kindness. He liked the story, that a man with so much power wanted to use it to make children happy. He liked being thought of, liked being remembered by someone he didn’t even know, liked that it was a reward for being nice throughout the year.

But it wasn’t true. And that was fine, Steve tried to convince himself. He still got the presents, and he still got his parents, even if they were a week late. He still got a hug from his nanny, and his mom let him have the rest of the ginger snaps, and he didn’t even have to clean up the carrots from the yard.

His parents left again, and school started again, and it was fine.

It was fine, until Tommy came barreling through the door with his Hess Truck held high and the praise of Santa spewing from his lips, and Steve noticed that not everyone shared in Tommy’s delight. Most of them did, and a lot of them brought their favorite toy to school just like Tommy, but a few kids (maybe three) sat still in their chairs — like they could avoid any questions if they blended into the background. They ducked their heads and they sank in their seats, and Steve wondered if they also found out Santa wasn’t real.

But Tommy singled one kid out at recess. He dragged him out, to the center of the playground, and told everyone that Santa didn’t go to trailer parks, that the kids in Forest Hills didn’t get presents from Santa, because only good kids got presents, and how could they be good if they lived in a junk yard. Those words didn’t sound like Tommy, but he was always repeating things his dad said, copying him and taking his word as gospel.

The kid, scrawny with a shaved head and angry brown eyes, sank into his shoes. Not in retreat, not in a cowering way. He sank into his shoes like he was grounding himself, like he was making sure his footing was firm and steady, and he shoved Tommy right into the ground.

Of course, only then did a teacher interject, and only the boy Steve didn’t know the name of was dragged away to the office. Tommy angrily scrambled to his feet and spat at the ground where the kid had stood, remarking that he was right and the Forrest Hills kids were definitely on the naughty list, Steve, wasn’t he right? Did he see that? What a freak that kids was.

Steve rolled his eyes and didn’t say anything. He knew interrupting Tommy was just more hassle than it was worth, and Tommy was wrong anyway because Santa wasn’t real. He’d figure it out eventually, Steve supposed, but he wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.

It was his walk home that gave him an idea. He saw the bus pass by as he trudged along, down the road and off in the direction of Forrest Hills trailer park. He wondered if that kid from recess was there, if he saw Steve out the window as he passed, if he really didn’t get any presents. He thought about all the gifts his parents gave him that were still packaged up in his closet because he had too many and he didn’t really like them all. And he thought about how much he wanted someone to think about him on Christmas, with no other purpose or desire but to make him happy.

So, with an inkling of an idea creeping its way through his head, he ran the rest of the way home and pulled out the phone book from the hallway table, as well as his yearbook from the previous year. There weren’t many numbers from Forrest Hills, but he did find the three kids from his class and a couple from the year above. He picked out which of his unopened presents he thought they’d like the most, and he wrapped them crudely in leftover paper he found in the study. He ripped off a few pages from the note pad by the phone, and wrote out in his best writing:

From Santa, sorry I was late

And then:

P.S. my elf wrote this

Because his best writing was still pretty bad.

It took him a couple days to plan and gather things, but in the dead of night — after his neighbors clicked off their porch lights — he piled all five presents into a little red wagon and tied the wagon to the end of his bike. He took off toward Forrest Hills, a little list of names and addresses crinkled in his pocket. He tip-toed around the dirt paths, freezing in fear every time his little wagon’s wheels squeaked, and placed the presents and the notes from ‘Santa’ on the doorsteps that matched his little list. He checked it twice, just for fun.

He felt lighter on the ride back home, and not just because his wagon was empty.

Steve was seven when he decided to become Santa himself.

It wasn’t obvious, the next day at school, and Steve didn’t do it just to listen to kids whisper about Santa visiting Forrest Hills a week late, but he did notice something. The three kids who had sunk low in their seats the first day back, who avoided talking to the others to brag about their presents, were no longer trying to blend into the background. They sat comfortably in their seats, and whispered among themselves, eyes twinkling a little more than they had a few days ago. Steve was ecstatic. He sat, buzzing silently with excitement as he tried to keep his face blank and neutral. Santa had to be kept secret, after all.

He did it again the next year, adding the newest kids to his list from the years below him, and saved up his allowance to get some cuter presents for the girls; some nail polish and art supplies, some coloring books and beads. This time he wasn’t late, and his handwriting had improved a lot from the year before (though he still blamed the elves for his wonky letters).

He had fun, learning how to wrap the paper around each gift, saving up his money to pick out presents he hoped the other kids would like, wondering what their faces looked like when they opened the door to find a present on their front step.

He was a little worried that the kids would be concerned Santa hadn’t made it inside, being magic and all, but he also noticed that none of the trailers had chimneys so maybe that was okay. He also learned that most of the kids in Forrest Hills did get presents, and he felt a little stupid for assuming they didn’t just from Tommy’s dumb comments, but he also knew they weren’t the fancy presents other kids got like bikes and new games.

He tried making his Santa presents a little more extravagant. After all, why would Santa give Tommy a brand new Lego set, but give Willie across town a pack of baseball cards? Steve just wanted to even the playing field a bit, knock Tommy down a peg or two when he tried humiliating another kid on the playground and that kid said Actually Tommy, I got the new Hess Truck from Santa, too! And Steve remembered wrapping it up, much neater this time, and almost getting caught on the stoop when a dog started barking at him. He muffled a giggle into his hand when Tommy floundered for something to say, coming up empty handed.

As the years passed and the kids in his grade stopped believing in Santa, he scratched their names off his list. He kept adding to it as well, though. He paid attention to the new kids in each grade, noticed if they had a little less than those around them, noticed if they were on the outskirts or if they looked a little nervous as the holidays drew nearer and nearer. He left presents for the Byers one year when he heard that Jon’s mom lost her job after his dad left. He left presents almost all over town, had the phone book highlighted with every address he wrote down in his notebook — a much needed upgrade from the crumpled piece of paper in his pocket. He wrote a list, he checked it twice, and he made sure to slip through the dark like a shadow, avoiding anything that might give him away.

He was always surprised when no adults tried to stop him. Surely, the stoop presents were well known throughout town by the time Steve reached high school, but maybe they didn’t want to know who was behind it. Maybe they wanted to keep the magic alive, too. Either way, Steve played a successful Santa for nearly two decades before anyone found out.

It was Eddie.

It was always Eddie.

Eddie, the boy who knocked Tommy clear to the ground that first winter. Eddie, the boy who made Steve want to help. Eddie, the boy who received the first ever gift from Hawkin’s own Santa, though Steve kind of hoped that was a secret he could keep.

They were putting up the tree in their apartment, the first Christmas they were spending together. Eddie had brought several old ornaments from the trailer, ones that he stole from right under Wayne’s nose because lord knows the man wouldn’t want to part with them if he didn’t have to — a collector, that man was. Steve picked up one that, at first, had been unassuming, a clear bauble filled with glitter. Hanging it on the sad twiggy branch of their Charlie Brown tree, however, he noticed a little piece of paper inside. It was aged and a bit crumpled, but not too shabby for how old it was.

From Santa, sorry I was late, it read in squiggled, messy handwriting, the wonky letters leaning to one side more than the other.

P.S. my elf wrote this

Steve stared at it for entirely too long, catching Eddie’s attention as he hung the last ornament.

“Wayne made that one, if you can believe it,” Eddie said, tapping the plastic bauble with the nail of his pointer finger. “I mean, not the note,” he clarified, “that was Santa.” He whispered the last part conspiratorially, as if letting Steve in on a huge secret. Steve felt like he was going to cry, suddenly, the tears pricking behind his eyes. With a start he realized, selfishly, that he didn’t want Eddie to know. He wanted to keep this mystery alive for just a little longer, like a parent too sad to let their child grow out of the world of magic and wonder, like it was too soon though the secret had been brewing for nearly twenty years.

Eddie wrapped a cautious arm around Steve’s shoulders, unsure of where his sudden teary-eyed expression came from. Instead of facing his questioning look, Steve tucked his head into the crook of Eddie’s neck and listened as the man regaled him with the story of his first ever gift from the Santa Claus.

That year, Wayne had lost his job as a trucker because Eddie had fallen into his lap. He couldn’t leave the kid all alone, had to stay and take care of him, and he was between jobs until the holiday snuck right up on them both. They had a tree, just as shabby and sparse as the one they currently stood in front of, but there was no money to spare for gifts. Wayne had apologized, and Eddie had been very understanding for an eight year old — after all, he had been learning not to rely on adults, anyway.

He’d gotten in trouble when the school year resumed, however, for shoving an insufferable Tommy Hagan to the ground during recess. Of course Tommy hadn’t gotten in trouble, since vigilantism was an under appreciated form of justice, Eddie declared. Steve snorted into Eddie’s neck, just imagining the ranting tirade the skinny boy with a shaved head must have gone on, trying to defend himself to the principal.

Eddie was furious as he got back home, pissed off at Hagan, pissed off at his parents, pissed off at the world. And then — what to his wondering eyes did appear — two days later, Wayne had opened the door to the shittiest wrapped present he’d ever seen. Steve bit his tongue. It was for Eddie, according to the name scribbled onto the wrapping paper, and the little note declared it was a lost gift from Santa.

“Like magic,” Eddie smiled.

Steve had no idea that was his first Christmas at Wayne’s, and he had no clue what that first shove on the playground could lead to. He could still picture Eddie’s scrunched brow as he glared daggers at Tommy, could still remember the way he sank into his shoes and grounded himself for a fight, like he was used to it, like he knew what was coming. He wished he could picture Eddie’s face as he realized Santa hadn’t forgotten about him.

“Anyway,” he said, startling Steve from his thoughts, still tucked away in Eddie’s neck, “Wayne kept that note, and I think he’s got the one from the next year, too. He’d saved enough money for a couple presents that year, but I think he was grateful for a little extra help.”

Steve pictured himself, a tiny little thing, curled up in the living room, all alone on Christmas Eve as he wrapped up presents and wrote out his Santa letters. He remembered feeling less alone for the first Christmas in forever, because he was too busy sticking too much tape onto glittery wrapping paper and worrying about not getting caught to care that his parents weren’t home again.

He thought about the bag full of presents, tucked away in the back of the closet so Eddie wouldn’t find them, and his list of kids he collected from the library’s giving tree. He had planned on sneaking out, planned to slip away from Eddie’s prone form and deliver the gifts alone, like always, but Eddie squeezed his shoulder and kissed the top of his head and he realized that he didn’t have to be alone anymore. Maybe this year there could be two Santas, delivering gifts to the children of Hawkins in the dead of night. Maybe this year he could have some help. Maybe this year, there could be twice as much magic as the year before.

—

Bingo Prompts

[freakinator]

vagueing but i think certain ppl need to realize that you can be both manipulative And traumatized 😭

[toddtakefive]

thinking about todd and his resolve toward… not quite isolation, but being alone in a room full of people again. he goes along to the study room to sit on his own and do his homework, he sits at the poets table and follows along with what’s being said while keeping quiet, he goes to the meetings at all but doesn’t necessarily contribute (in fact, if you watch him when cameron is telling the story ‘from camp in sixth grade’, you can see that he recognizes it before any of the other poets but doesn’t voice it until they all have). he’s not alone, necessarily, if you want to get technical about it, he’s just lonely, and he’s generally okay with that. he doesn’t have friends and that’s fine, he doesn’t participate in class and that’s fine, he doesn’t have a relationship with his family and that’s fine—he could live without any real connection and he’d have been, more or less, fine.

the thing about when he says “i can take care of myself just fine!” is that he isn’t really wrong, you can infer that he’s been doing it his entire life anyway, it’s that ‘taking care of yourself’ isn’t the same thing as really living or being happy. todd’s an introvert, certainly, and even as he gets closer to the group he defaults to sitting quietly in the background, but he’s also denying himself community out of fear not introversion. todd isn’t friendless because he’s an introvert, although that definitely plays a part, he’s friendless because he pushes anyone that might want his company away. if anyone has every wanted for his attention in the first place. (neil’s unwavering interest in him is unique (even when it comes to the rest of the poets, who are fine with todd coming along and joining the group, but aren’t really hellbent on him being there in the beginning) and his refusal to accept it is a direct result of being so lonely growing up.)

there’s obviously something to be said about the implications of his parents neglect, and the more than likely fact that he grew up friendless, and how those both play a part in in him being so skilled at dodging social interaction/being so avoidant of it, but by the time we see him in the movie he’s all but accepted his fate as being alone his entire life. he’s already accepted being the family disappointment, and he’s already accepted he’ll never amount to anything, and he obviously doesn’t like it, but he’d have managed living with that knowledge without the confirmation that it was all wrong. would he have been miserable? almost certainly. but he’d have managed. he’d done it for that long already, anyhow.

[butchnavi]

you know as a neurodivergent person I only have two fucking requests of anyone I consider a friend: 1) do not cold shoulder or get aggressively angry with me for something you didn't bother to communicate you had a problem with and 2) do not fucking infantalize me and treat me like a naive fragile broken child who is a burden on everyone in my life. shouldn't be too hard right??? insane how many neurotypicals are fucking incapable of doing the bare fucking minimum

[crabussy]

man its absolutely crazy how far simple politeness gets you. if you are polite to strangers on the internet who hate your guts 9/10 times they will LISTEN to you and TAKE YOUR POINTS INTO CONSIDERATION????? I've have genuinely very pleasant conversations with people whose worldviews COMPLETELY contradict my own and have come away knowing that they're thinking about what I said and may have even changed the way they think about the issue we discussed. it feels like it shouldn't work but it works almost TOO well. if people feel like you're listening to and considering THEIR opinions and experiences, they'll listen to yours too. it goes both ways!!!!

[foreverfearlessred]

no but like I’m actually ready to THROW HANDS with Williams over how Logan has been consistently treated this season. Logan babes get behind me I can FIGHT.

[vaguely-concerned]

I think rye is mostly vegetarian-adjacent when he gets to pick meals for himself (not particularly out of ideological reasons or anything, he just prefers nevarran style cooking and doesn't care for the taste of most meat -- he's a picky eater who will force his way through food he doesn't like if absolutely necessary. but no one is paying him to be happy about it lol he is being quietly bitchy about it in the privacy of his own soul. he might be the most relieved person on the team when bellara and lucanis stage their very polite and earnest kitchen coup.)

so when shathann asks taash to add some vegetables to the cursed tense family dinner when taash wants to come out to her, rye is like 'well that's not really a nice or productive way to say that. but thank you a little bit for saying it' as he stares down his plate of 80% ham with some trepidation

[ratatatastic]

rags playing so bad we are starting hastag save [insert player] get him out of there!!!!