#mite steve

[bluxhi]

🙌👏🙌👏🙌👏🙌👏🙌👏🙌👏🙌

I AM SO PROUD OF YOU!!!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🥺🥺

SABRE

HE LEARNED ABOUT DEVIANTART.

AND FEATURED SOME OF MY FANART?!?

NOT ONLY THAT, BUT HE FEATURED ART OF MY G/ARY S/TU FAN OC. MY EFFING OC AND MY EFFING AU GOT FEATURED BY SABRE.

AAAAAAHHHHH

I AM SHOOK. MY ANXIETY JUST SKYROCKETED YESTERDAY.

BUT I’M ALSO SO EXCITED TO SEE THAT SABRE REALLY LIKE MY ART AND MY ART STYLE ;0;

AAAAAHHHHH

***

Congrats to everyone who got their fanart shown in Sabre’s latest video!

Now we must wait for Sabre to check out the Steve Saga amino or for him to learn about Tumblr’s and Wattpad’s existence.

[goldenflurry]

Been a while, sketch dump time !

[ice-eise-babyy]

Highlight | J.B.B

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Summary: A single comment takes a toll at your self-confidence, unintentionally pushing bucky away.

Warnings: really fluffy, slight angst (so slight you won't even feel it), implied smut, Sharon (unintentionally) being a bitch, cursing (real brief)

A/N: loosely inspired by a real life event. I do request so please go slide in my asks. that's it. Happy reading!!

Bucky loved you.

Every atom, essence, and fiber of you, he loved. There was nothing about you that could change his perception of you.

He had learned to memorize every inch of you with his eyes closed; Using only his tongue, fingers, and lips. Making a mental map of each dip and curve, every scar and mole, and all of your smile lines and wrinkles. Not only that but also your whole being. He knew you so well that he could tell what you wanted— what you needed before you could even say it. It was like a telepathic connection...

That's why it didn't take him long to figure out that something was wrong.

It was never your intention to make Bucky worry.

It all started with a small comment...

You had just finished showering in the gym shower after your training. Your body was wrapped in a towel that was way too short for your liking. displaying the stretch marks on your outer thighs, making you chew the insides of your cheeks.

And as if it wasn't enough to make you self-conscious, "Woah... That's some marks you've got there y/n..." It was Sharon as she entered the gym shower. Sounding perplexed and repulsed by the sight.

"Yeah.." you said, masking the rising insecurity with a faux chuckle before getting the hell out of there.

You ignored the twisted feeling in your stomach and the lingering embarrassment her words had caused. Brushing it off and pretending like you weren't affected by it. But soon it was eating you up like mites on wood. Nipping and nibbling at the last bits of self-assurance that you have.

It was affecting you so much that you hadn't even noticed that you were starting to distance yourself from Bucky...

Bucky, knowing you better than he knows himself, immediately noticed this. He didn't miss how you'd flinch at his touch. he caught how you'd recoil and pull away whenever he sought a hug or a kiss. It didn't go over his head when you started wearing more layers than just his shirt.

Of course, he was worried... But he pushed the worries away thinking that maybe you were just tired...

Weeks went by, yet you continued to distance yourself from him. He didn't want to think about it too much or ask you about it, afraid that it would only push you further.

So he convinced himself that you just wanted a bit of space. Especially now that you were getting some actual rest since you were jam-packed with missions and meetings the previous month.

It wasn't until last night...

˚‧⁺  ･ ˖ ·˚ ⋆｡˚ ˚‧⁺

"Sure, thanks Steve..." You bid Steve goodbye as you got off the elevator, just now getting home from your first mission of the month.

You opened the door with ease, not wanting to make any noise as you entered your shared room with Bucky. Tiptoeing as you entered, concerned that you'd wake him up.

"Hey, doll..." Your whole body jolted as you heard him, his voice sounding hoarse with sleep.

You simply looked in his direction and gave him a lopsided smile,

Just a smile?

"Go to sleep..." You told him as you left him to shower...

He in fact did not go to sleep. He waited for you. Wanting to wrap his arms around you and kiss away your exhaustion from the mission.

"I told you to go to sleep, bucky." he looked in your direction, admiring how adorable you looked in his hoodie and some basic sweatpants.

"How can I?" He shrugged as if it was the most obvious question, "you're not here with me.." he added, extending his arms out for a hug.

You gulped, hesitating for a little while longer. Soon giving in as you saw the expecting look on his face. His slate blue eyes glimmered in the darkness as you walked over to him.

He sighed, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Burying his face in your clothed stomach as you stood there.

"I missed you," he nuzzled into you more, "so damn much." He said as he finally pulled away, looking up at you with those pretty blue eyes.

He wanted to stay like this with you. He needed to stay like this with you...

The pad of his fingers dug into your hips as his grip tightened, pulling you to his lap.

"I missed you too..." You said, your fingers playing with the hair on the back of his head...

It was like all your worries were thrown out the window as he held you by the neck and captured your lips with his. Kissing you with such need and longing. It was as if a huge wave of relief washed over you... Until his hands started exploring under your hoodie.

All your insecurities resurfaced as you recalled the marks that you were hiding under these layers of clothing. Sharon's words replaying in your head like a broken record.

No...

It was like your body was moving on its own accord. Your breathing lodged in your windpipe as you realized that you had unintentionally pushed him away... Your hands trembling as they hovered mid-air, a short distance away from his chest which you had just shoved away...

"I..." You started but it was like the words were caught in the back of your throat...

You felt guilt settling in the pit of your stomach as you saw the pain flickered amongst the flecks of navy in his eyes that Momentarily looked down before looking back at you, helping you off his lap.

One...

Breathe...

Two...

She's just tired...

Three...

Be understanding...

"It's... It's fine..." The reassurance tasted bittersweet on his lips, a tight-lipped smile decorating his features...

You felt like the knot of guilt in your stomach was about to snap as you didn't fail to notice how his smile didn't reach his eyes... Or how the inflection of his voice came across as insincere, strained, hurt...

He's hurt... Because of me...

He wasn't hurt, no.

Hurt was something a 3-year-old would say if he scraped his knee. Hurt was something a teenager felt when he got his heart broken from puppy love. Hurt is something minor. Something that can be easily cured with words...

This? This was neglect.

He felt neglected... He felt like you were drifting a bit too far...

Too far from him...

˚‧⁺  ･ ˖ ·˚ ⋆｡˚ ˚‧⁺

He has never been the type to openly talk about what he felt... But this— this thing you were doing? It was just unbearable... In ways that no simple words formed by letters could describe. And what's worst about this was it was you.

So, he ultimately decided that he had enough of it...

You were comfortably reading a book on the couch. The cap of your purple highlighter in between your lips as you highlight lines from your book with it. The bright color perfectly emphasizing your favorite parts.

A few other teammates were also in the living room. Respectfully busying themselves with whatever task they had at hand when suddenly, a very upset-looking bucky came storming into the living room with a scowl on his face.

"Let's talk. Now. In private." He snatched the book from your hand and tossed it on the coffee table automatically catching your attention

Confusion etched your face as you looked up at him, your knuckles turning white as your grip tightened around the highlighter.

"What are you—!" Your question abruptly interrupted, the world turning upside down as he threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

The rest of the team looked at one another with puzzled looks, watching you writhe as he walked away with you on his shoulder like a bag of rice.

"Bucky!" You squealed, thrashing against the super soldier while you repeatedly told him to put you down. The purple ink from the highlighter in your hand staining his white tank top.

"Talk." Was all you heard as you landed on the bed with a guttural 'oof'

"Rude!" He gave you an unamused look, crossing his arms as his gaze followed you as you propped yourself. Sighing as he saw that familiar pout on your lips.

"I'm worried about you..." You felt a shiver run down your spine as he walked towards you.

"What do you mean...?" You facepalmed mentally as your words came out trembling.

You were sweating, not wanting to talk about any of this any further. You already knew where this was going...

And you didn't like it...

"You're just..." He paused, looking for the right words, "You're not being you... And you—" he cut himself off, noticing how you moved away when he sat beside you. "You keep doing that"

"That? What's 'that'?"

"You keep distancing yourself from me..." You felt the guilt claw up your neck as you heard the way his voice sounded so defeated.

You never intended to worry him, and you never would want to. But looking at the situation at hand made you realize how much you got drowned by your self-doubt that you had been depriving him of the truth...

You felt torn as you sat there staring into the hazy silver hue in his blue eyes, the distress and yearning flickering in them.

You wanted to tell him about everything. You wanted to tell him how Sharon's words made your confidence falter. You wanted to show him why...

But it scared you...

The mere thought of his repulsed expression made your heart sink to your toes.

"I don't know if I've done something wrong. If I've said something you didn't like. If I had been too much. If you need space—"

"No! It's not like that..." Your eyes widened as his rambling slowly sunk into your skull,

He's blaming himself...?

"I just... It's..." He held your hand, soothing you through your anxious state...

He hated seeing you like this, he hated how much you were holding back, he hated how you were hesitating... But he was patient with you like he always is. Because he knew firsthand how hard it is to open up.

"Please... Please tell me.." you let out a shaky breath. Your fingers fiddled with the highlighter as you closed your eyes for a moment to collect yourself.

The moment you opened your eyes and witnessed the unshed tears gloss over his pretty eyes was the exact moment you figured that you had lost at whatever this was...

Your hands fidgeted with the highlighter as you told him everything he needed to know— from the stretch marks that had you questioning your self-worth to Sharon’s comment that rang in your ears like a constant reminder. You just laid it all out there, hoping he’d understand how much it had gotten to you. Even though you knew it still wasn't enough of an excuse for how you've treated him...

The tears prickled your eyes as they pooled; you felt so small. So vulnerable around him... Just how you liked it.

"I'm so proud of you for telling me doll..." The pad of his thumb swiping away the single tear that rolled down your face...

"Can I see...?" You looked at him with wide eyes, why would he want to see such a sight?

"James..." His name slipped from your lips as a hesitant whisper, but your thoughts became a jumbled mess when he suddenly got off the bed and kneeled in front of you, looking up at you with those big blue eyes...

"Please...?" He pleaded, removing the highlighter before holding your hands in his.

Your man was literally on his knees for you, his eyes wide with hope and vulnerability, like he was silently begging for an answer. His voice was so full of genuine longing and yearning. How could you say no to that? At that moment, with your heart swelling, saying anything but yes felt impossible.

You meekly nodded and he looked like a kid on Christmas morning, beaming with a grin.

Goosebumps formed on your skin as you felt his hands twisting with the waistband of your pajama shorts. He looked up at you as though to ask for permission so you granted it with another nod. You lifted your hips for him to fully remove them.

Suddenly,you felt the insecurity clawing at your neck; feeling exposed and just... Bare as you sat there in just your tank top and underwear. Displaying parts of your body that only he had the privilege of seeing.

You pressed your knees together, knowing that the marks only get worse around the insides of your thighs...

Bucky didn't like this... But he had more than one way to keep those legs spread for him...

"So pretty..." he murmured, his voice soft and full of admiration as his hand gently held your calf as if you would wither under his touch if he wasn't careful enough. His other hand was doing the total opposite by holding your other leg in place and slightly spreading it. He leaned in, pressing a series of slow, lingering kisses from your knee, his lips feather-light as they brushed against your skin. He moved up to the side of your thigh, each kiss seemed to carry a silent promise, a vow of how much he adored every inch of you. The warmth of his breath and the tenderness in his eyes made your heart stutter, filling you with a sense of love and security that felt overwhelming.

You let out a whine, desperate and needy when you felt him detach his lips from your skin. Already yearning for the sensation of his lips on you. "What are you doing?" Gazing at him curiously as he took the highlighter in his hand

He didn't answer.

He held your knee in one hand to avoid them from blocking his line of sight. His mind was in a whirlwind as he saw the marks.

They're beautiful

How dare you deprive him of this.

You gasped as you felt the cold ink of the highlighter on your skin. Bucky moved his hand gracefully as he left traces of bright purple along your stretch marks, tucking his lower lip between his teeth as he concentrated.

"What are you doing, James?" Another attempt for an answer as you watch his hand in between your legs only to be met with silence once again.

He pulled away once he finished, a satisfied look on his face. Looking at his work with such pride in himself. It was beautiful. You were beautiful. Nothing could ever compare to this, to you. No art made by Monet, Renoir, or even Van Gogh could ever come close to how ethereal you looked...

"This," he started, his fingers gently tracing the trails of purple ink on your skin, "This is to remind you that I will always love all of you"

You bit back a smile as you looked down at him; the lovesick look in his eyes told you that his words exude nothing but honesty. And it was as if everything was just now sinking into your mind. Crimson tinted your cheeks, heating up as you realized that you were half naked with a super soldier in between your thighs. Kneeling for you.

You let out a strangled moan as he pressed his lips on your skin once more. Trailing wet kisses to your inner thigh, inhaling as his nose poked your clothed core. You smelled so sweet...

"You think you're getting off the hook that easy?" You gulped so hard that he probably heard it, you couldn't help yourself. How could you when Bucky was looking up at you like someone who hasn't been fed for the past few months? The warmth of his blue eyes dissipated as it was replaced by something familiar but different... Something feral.

"Spread those pretty legs for me, doll. I'm going to fuck you until you're finally convinced that every part of you is perfect"

[mimiii-3]

im OBSESSED with saboteur!! also off topic but pizza steve pfp a throwback i love it 😭. what if reader runs away and the gotham city sirens (ivy, harley, catwoman…) or like what if they get kidnapped and turned into a meta!! maybe like x-23 or jinx from arcane!! i also can’t help but imagine she’s like okay fuck yall and frees darling and they run off together LOL.

Yay, I’m glad! Yes, the pizza Steve pfp might be revealing my old age😬

…

Saboteur: Cherry Bomb

Yandere Platonic Batfam x GN Neglected Reader

Extra notes: criminal activity, jumping/physical assault, dangerous use of explosives, blood/gore/violence

…

What if batsib makes some new and dangerous friends…

🦇

You trudge through the trash-flooded streets of Gotham. Eyes peeled and waiting to find even a fraction of crime. You needed to vent. Every Gotham-mite knows the best way to relieve your pent up feelings is a good ol’ fashioned beat down.

Your aching heart befuddles your common sense and you drift through a series of dark alleyways. You fiddle with the combat knife tucked in the pocket of your hoodie.

A distant screech catches your attention. You jog towards the direction of the shrilly scream. As you round the corner, the violent scene unfolds before you.

A small woman, cowers against a dumpster as three armed men jeer and kick at her. Her tattered clothes are covered in blood, a result of their nail-covered baseball bats.

One of the men looks freakishly tall, maybe inhumanly tall. The other two have a strange green substance oozing out of their tear ducts.

You act on instinct and bark your demands, “Leave her alone you creeps!”

You pull out your knife and flick it dangerously between your fingers. A simple trick you had learned from the internet but it might be enough to scare the perps off.

Your trick and strong words fall flat and the three masked men turn to face you. The tallest one of the group grins. There’s something eerie about the way he looks at you. Like a supple piece of fruit, ripe for the taking.

You soon realize you’re in over your head as they stalk towards you. “Go, run!” You shout to the distressed woman. She takes one last look at you before high tailing it out of the alley.

You try to run back from the way you came but a pair of scarred arms warp around you. You kick at the assailant’s knee causing him to hiss angrily.

The tall one reaches out to grab your neck and you jam the knife into his wrist. The tall one seems unfazed by your attack and pulls the jagged knife from his arm. He turns the knife back on to you and drags it lightly across your jaw.

The knife pierces your skin and you can’t help but whimper in fear. Where was your family when you needed them?

Before you can fall into a pit of despair, a small red ball rolls past you and bumps against the dumpster. The two infected attackers lean closer to get a better look.

“Hey, I think it’s a-” The one man’s word are cut short as the blast from the small sphere tears his face off. The other man rolls in agony, having sustained horrific burns from the bomb.

While you survey the carnage before you, a ‘crack’ comes from the man behind you. The arms around your torso grow limp and his body slumps to the ground.

Too scared to turn around, you hold your breath and pray you aren’t next.

“Hiya, Suga’!”

…

Extra notes: yandere platonic Harley (and other birds of prey members) perhaps😌

Tag list:

@jjsmeowthie

[lexirosewrites]

I saw your post and am sending positive vibes and care.

Here's a little bit of my new chapter of my omega verse Steddie fic.

*************

Two weeks had passed, they had settled into the house, Rosie had gone back to sleeping through the night and Steve was in full bonding ceremony planning mode.

The new house was a fair bit closer to Gareth’s house meaning he could walk home now if he wanted a few beers. Steve worries about him driving if he even has one.

He's just passing through a small field when he here's a little meow. Confused, Eddie grabs his phone to give him some light and he sees a tiny little kitten in a ditch.

The gasp that leaves Eddie doesn't even make the little guy startle. Bending to scoop the kitten up he can see it's ginger but it's covered in dirt. “Oh little one. Who left you. Are there any more of you?” Eddie asks the tiny ball of fur as he searches the surrounding area, all the banks, ditches and bushes but nothing.

Eddie guessed the kitten is eight, maybe nine weeks. The kitten had snuggled into his chest the second he was picked up, taking in Eddie's body heat letting out a tiny meow.

Eddie can't help but wonder what would happen if he never stayed a bit longer and had another drink, the poor little mite wouldn't have lasted much longer by the looks of it.

Eddie carries the filthy little ball of fuzz home, the whole time cradling it like he did Rosie when she was new. The whole time he walks he keeps repeating in his head, don't get attached. We're just going to clean you up, give you some food and get you to the vet tomorrow.

Eddie enters the house and as expected Steve is upstairs, likely asleep. Eddie walks the stairs on the off chance Rosie is awake for a feed. Entering the bedroom his heart melts. Steve is laying in the nest sound asleep snoring gently and Rosie is fast asleep on her back, mouth open looking almost identical to her mother. Eddie backs out of the room not wanting to disturb his family.

Eddie gets the kitten a saucer of cow’s milk from the fridge, honestly he's not sure if it's even the right thing to give the kitten but it's all he has to hand right now and given that it's two in the morning he wouldn't even know who to call.

He fills the sink with warm water and gets some of the bathing supplies they keep under the sink for Rosie. Steve loves to bathe their daughter in the sink from time to time. Eddie can't help himself but sing in a very low voice to the kitten as he washes the small creature.

Wash, wash, wash it away,

Wash until we're clean.

Eddie repeats as he would to Rosie. Stop it Eddie, she's not staying. Even Eddie's alpha wants to stop its feet at the thought, the kitten is theirs now.

Eddie gently places the kitten in the nest while he looks around the downstairs trying to find something for the kitten to sleep in. Eddie thinks the kitten might be a girl but he's not fully sure. When he re-enters the living room the kitten is fast asleep, cuddled into Steve's nursing pillow.

Eddie decides the best thing for the situation would be to just join the kitten in the nest, he scoops the kitten up and it immediately goes to the crook of his neck for warmth. Don't get attached Eddie.

~~~~~~~~

Steve wakes to the sound of his daughter fussing as she tugs at his sleep shirt letting him know she's looking for milk. He can't help the confusion at his alpha not being in their bed.

The pang of panic that his alpha might not have come home is squashed instantly when he walks down the stairs into the sitting room. His alpha is sound asleep in the nest, Steve still feels a little bit confused but he also needs tea.

Steve places a now babbling Rosie onto the floor with her toys so he can make his tea. Within seconds he can hear Rosie trying to wake her daddy.

Her shouts of “dada” are met with Eddie's sleepy morning voice. “Morning baby girl.”

Walking back in the room Steve smiles over at Rosie and Eddie in the nest having their morning cuddles.

He stops dead when he sees one of Rosie's teddies move. “Eddie, what the fuck is that.” Steve can't help but ask.

Steve's crossing the room in seconds. It's a kitten, a tiny ginger kitten. Steve sits in the nest and scoops it off Eddie's lap. The kitten instantly snuggles into him and lets out a tiny pur. "Eddie what's this. "Steve asks as he pets the tiny kitten, Rosie looks completely fascinated by it.

"Don't be mad, I found it on the side of the road abandoned." Eddie starts as Steve gasps, moving the kitten into the crook of his neck to comfort the kitten further, making a little cooing noise at the kitten .

"Have you fed them? " Steve asks, betting Eddie hasn't.

"Oh, yeah some cow's milk because that's all we had.” Eddie replies. Steve thinks that actually that's probably not the best for the kitten but he doesn't want to criticise his alpha.

“Can you sit with them while I wash up please?" Eddie asks, looking a bit sad.

Steve gets Rosie set up in the highchair before heading to the fridge and taking a bottle of his expressed milk out. It just feels right to him as he heats the milk and puts in a saucer in front of the kitten who instantly fills her belly.

When Eddie walks back in thirty minutes later, Rosie is playing with her toes tucked into his side and watching bluey. The kitten is on his chest sleeping peacefully.

"I don't know if it was the right thing to do but I gave her a little saucer of my heated up milk. We will check with the vets if that's safe for her too. " Steve says in a way of greeting.

"Yeah, we need to take her to the vet. Hopefully he will know where to rehome her." Eddie says, sounding a little sad.

Steve can't help the hiss that rips from him making Rosie jump and Eddie's head snaps up to his mate. “Baby are you ok, did you get hurt?” Eddie asks him.

"You are not rehoming my baby. She's our family now, she needs us Eddie. Why don't we just re-home Rosie while we are at it. " Steve scolds his alpha, feeling anger burn through him. Get rid of the kitten, not a chance, she's his baby.

"But, wh-what. I thought you said no." Eddie sounds so confused.

"I know what I said” Steve bites out, annoyed that the alpha didn't just know.

“But then she snuggled into me and the baby Eddie. She's meant to be here, I wouldn't have fed her my milk if I didn't want to help her get big and strong. Call the vet and make an appointment." Steve tells his mate with a little bite.

Eddie looks truly confused but he doesn't argue, he just walks back towards the kitchen.

Steve scoops the kitten up and plants a little kiss on the kitten's head. “That's right little one, we have two babies now huh.”

🩷🩷🩷

[vintagerpg]

Different Worlds 4 (August/September, 1979). Jennell Jaquays cover, colored by Steve Oliff. A solid “possibilities of roleplaying” sort of collage, in her early cartoon style. Remember those alien mites on the left, you’re going to see something like them again in the summer…

[ramennoodlezzzao3]

My Ponyboy Headcannons

He’s really good singing. He doesn’t do it often or in front of people, but he’s really good at it.

He likes horror books but Darry doesn’t let him read them because he thinks they play into his nightmares 

His favorite color is purple 

His favorite soda isn’t Pepsi, it’s actually Dr. Pepper or Cola

Charlie Woods (from TWTTIN) actually knows Ponyboy very well, and would sometimes lets him bake rolls or serve tables at his bar before he died.

He has very curly hair and he’s very insecure about it. He greases it back before his brothers or the gang wake up so nobody sees it.

He has multiple scars on his arms from tripping, but they are very faint

He has so many freckles that, if you look at him from a specific angle, it looks like he has a tan.

He wears glasses

He LOVES physical touch, hugging people or wrestling make him very happy

He’s ticklish on the back of his knees but nowhere else.

He wears socks to sleep and everyone thinks he’s weird.

He got a secret job to help pay the bills.

He can either skateboard or bike 

He really likes listening to music, but not the kind that the gang blasts from the radio

Someone outside of the gang taught him how to drive when he was really young (11 or 12) but Steve and Sodapop seemed really excited at the idea of teaching him so he pretended not to know how to make them happy

He doesn’t want to go to college, but decides to go anyway because Darry and Sodapop want him to.

He has tons of school friends and sometimes hangs out with them outside of school

He loves sweet and salty food

He got bullied a lot in middle school and gets bullied high school but never told anyone

He can’t fight as well as Dally, but he’s braver and more loyal than anyone else.

He’s always hated his hair color, almost as much as his eye color.

He’s a clean freak and probably has OCD (if he and Sodapop didn’t share a room, Sodapops room would be a mess)

He has ADHD but it’s less severe, that’s why he always has his head in the clouds

He has panic attacks all the time

He loves putting a smile on peoples faces

He draws as if Da Vinci’s soul has possessed his body 

He extremely photogenic to the point it’s actually terrifying 

He’s HIGHLY allergic to dust mites or mold

He doesn’t get sick that often, but when he does, it’s bad

He hangs pictures of the gang and his friends on the wall of his room

He can do a perfect handstand

He’s really small for his age

He has a softer version of Georgie Cooper Jr.’s voice

He buys small gifts and leaves them at his gangs doorsteps or mailboxes without a note so he can get the genuine reaction to the gift instead of the faked one.

He likes driving at night with the windows down and radio on

He’s more of a cat person than a dog person

His mom nicknamed him after something like: Daisy, Strawberry, Bambi, Colt, or anything else along those lines

Every single bad note that he’s ever gotten thrown or passed to him in class he’s kept in a folder so that he can light them on fire when he graduates

He wears tons of jewelry 

He grew up with the mindset of “Johnny is the baby, not you” so if he and Johnny got jumped or hurt together, he always made sure to focus more on Johnny than himself

He’s has tons of awards for track, spelling bee’s, art contests and more hidden in his closet

He has a diary 

He gets jealous when he sees other people get picked up from school by their parents or older siblings

He can change his personality depending on who he’s hanging out with

He will constantly apologize to teachers for “Wasting their time” he if he accidentally turns in an assignment a few hours late

He’s never gotten detention before

[this-witch-writes]

Show Don't Tell - Part 2

part 1, part 3

Eddie didn’t understand what had happened or how quickly it had happened. So they’d fought. He’d been upset, Steve had been upset, but they had argued before. They were both opinionated, stubborn, a little bitchy, it was what made them click in some ways. How could Steve just… leave? Eddie was supposed to be the one who ran away. He read the note dozens of times trying to find some secret clue to make it make sense.

No matter how many times he went over it though, Steve’s note just didn’t make sense. “I hope you find someone someday that you love as much I love you now” what the fuck? How was Steve still so convinced Eddie didn’t love him? Convinced enough to skip town? He was probably just visiting Robin. He was coming back, right? On the drive home Eddie told himself again and again that he was overreacting. Steve was upset, he skipped town to see Robin and when he got back Eddie could yell at him for a while and then they’d fix things. Even if he still wasn’t sure how. He’d figure that out when Steve got back.

Wayne knew something was wrong the second Eddie stepped foot in the trailer. Eddie didn’t have to say a word and his uncle was giving him that soft concerned look and pulling out two beers.

‘Anything I need to know, son?’ And wasn’t actually being understood such a relief?

He didn’t really want to rehash everything so he just handed Wayne the note and started in on his beer. Wayne’s eyebrows did a lot of work in his face and that he took a long drink too. ‘So you and Steve split?’ He asked cautiously. ‘I thought things were going okay?’

Eddie sat up. ‘What? No! Why?’

Wayne’s eyebrows did some more complicated movements. ‘On account of this Dear John note you just handed me, kid? Is there more to the story?’

‘We just fought, that’s all.’

‘I don’t want to tell you your business, Ed, but this seems like some fight.’

‘He’s been a bit insecure, I guess, since Robin went away to college and the kids are busy at school. I try to cheer him up and most of the time it works great.’

‘I know,’ Wayne smiled, just a little. ‘Boy always looks like you’re the first person to ever cook him a hot meal.’

Eddie winced. ‘I think I am, his folks…’ no more really needed to be said there. Wayne got it. ‘Then yesterday I ask if he’s okay and he actually asks if I even love him? Can you believe that?’

‘You?!’ It was gratifying that Wayne was as surprised as Eddie.

‘Right!?’

‘That seems a mite more than a bit insecure, Eds, you dote on Steve.’ Wayne frowned. ‘More going on with that boy than he lets on, I suppose. What did you say to that?’

A second wince. ‘Well I blew up a bit. It just hurt, you know? Feeling like nothing I did was good enough.’

‘I’m not saying you’re wrong,’ Wayne handed the note back and tapped a nail on the glass of his beer bottle. ‘But it seems like whatever has Steve so upset, is bigger than what you give him. You can’t buy nobody’s happiness, though I’m sure his daddy tried.’

‘Yeah…’ Eddie slumped against the side of the couch. ‘I know… but it wasn’t like that. I wasn’t just giving him some gas station bouquet and calling it romance, Wayne. I did everything I could to make him happy and…’ he sniffed. ‘I just feel like I don’t have anything left.’

‘If he comes back,’ Wayne waved down Eddie immediate argument that of course he was coming back and kept talking over him. ‘If he comes back and you decide that you want to fix it, you can have that conversation then. If you want him back.’

‘If!!’ Eddie nearly knocked his beer over with his flailing. ‘Of course I want him back. What are you talking about? It’s Steve!��

‘You deserve someone who tells you that your love is good enough, not someone who skips town. I feel for Steve, I do, but you’re my kid and I say you deserve better than that.’ He pointed to the note. ‘It’s not your fault if he didn’t believe you saying you loved him.’

That tripped Eddie up a little and once again words weren’t needed between him and his uncle. Wayne frowned deeper. ‘You did tell him, right Ed?’

‘Of course I did,’ Eddie huffed, trying to remember. ‘We just don’t say it all the time.’ His voice was losing confidence though. He could remember Steve saying it, back in November and a few times before Christmas. He remember kissing him and talking and being happy, but Eddie’s memories were sparkling and slippery with lovesickness. He brushed the doubt away. ‘It’s like you and me. We don’t need to say it like we have something to prove. Show don’t tell.’ Wayne didn’t seem convinced by that explanation, which annoyed Eddie a little. ‘We’re not telling each other we love each other every day, you think I don’t love you? You’ve always let me know in real ways not words.’

‘We don’t say it much, true,’ Wayne nodded. ‘But kid, you never needed me to.’

‘Right!’ Eddie gestured at him in vindication. ‘Exactly!’

Wayne didn’t look convinced again. ‘Did Steve need you to?’

‘He shouldn’t.’

‘That aint always how it works. Folks need different things, Ed. You gotta hear them when they ask.’

-

Other chapters: Part 1, part 3

[nfcomics]

BATMAN SUPERMAN WORLDS FINEST no.25 • cover art • Joëlle Jones [Mar 2024]

Join Batman and Superman as the World’s Finest team celebrates 25 issues of World’s Finest!

This oversized special issue takes our heroes around the DCU and beyond—with a special lead story that will at last showcase the first meeting between The Joker and Lex Luthor. The World's Finest villains form an unholy alliance and will send chills down the spines of the DCU Heroes forevermore!

PLUS: Spinning out of the events of the World's Finest Annual, Doom-Mite strikes and points the way to the next World's Finest epic!

(W) Mark Waid (A) Dan Mora, Steve Pugh (CA) Joëlle Jones

[youcouldmakealife]

February Writing Stuff

I had a very quiet 15k goal in January. I exceeded it by 4k, which is rad, because in another world I would have aimed for 20k, missed it, and gotten mad at myself. It will be 17.5k for the month of Feb, because it's a mite short (though less short than usual), and I'm still doing the game where I experiment to find out what works best, which will help in the long run, but does make things take longer in the short term.

On AO3:

One of each of the Whalers, then probably some more Whalers after that.

On tumblr:

SOTM: Dying for a Vinny/Anton update! AND Does Bruno Roy notice the tension between his poor rookie and Theo in the house?

Patreon and Kickstarter stuff below the cut:

On Patreon:

SOTWs: 4th, 18th

SOTMs: Mathesons & Petersens pls! Steve’s sisters melting over Jared in person or Susan meeting Stephen with Elaine over wines! AND Gabe/Stephen

Via Email:

SOTWs: 11th, 25th

Extras I lied again last month so let’s just say they’re coming when I’m actually in the final stretch of BTT

[balu8]

"I AM THE MITE."

World's Finest #27

by Mark Waid; Dan Mora/Travis Mercer; Tamara Bonvillain and Steve Wands

DC

[booksinpiles]

A Book-Buyer's Manifesto

Allow me to preface this with two qualifiers:

I spend far too much time researching and purchasing books, so the things that rub against my soul like a large, invisible and slightly rusty cheese grater may not trouble most book lovers; this is in the nature of a personal rant and may not generalize.

I understand that the complaints I am making are not, by and large, the fault of authors. Furthermore, I understand that capitalism sinks its thick, warped, blood-hungry roots into everything, and I am sure that editors, reviewers, designers, etc. are simply reacting to the panopticon market.

On to the complaints!

“I wish to register a complaint.” - Monty Python’s Flying Circus

***

Stop 👏 Using 👏 AI

I do not care what publishers are being told by investors or marketing teams or anyone else with an inherent fondness for a well-placed decimal point. I do not want my books read to me by machines. Even if publishers can ethically source and reproduce the voice of my beloved Andrew Robinson, (and pay him handsomely for the trouble) who is capable of sending many a merry sparkle down my spinal column, I do not want books read to me by machines. I do not want the rich tradition of oral storytelling (of which audio books are the heirs) stripped of the cadence, the laughter, and the magic of human intonation. If AI is growing bored, it can do some laundry.

In this same vein: I do not want cover art created by AI. I do not want AI-generated summaries. Fuck off.

Speaking of Summaries:

🧑‍🎓 If college freshman can do it, Simon and Schuster, baby, so can you.👩‍🎓

I have spent many semesters teaching writers how to summarize the words and the works of other writers with whom they find themselves in conversation. One of the surest indicators of a researcher’s grasp of their topic is if that writer can explain the material to another student. To do so, summary is usually required.

I have no connections with or insight into the world of publishing, but, apparently, everyone in the last decade decided to call in sick on “how to sum up this book” day.

The back of a book should include a brief description of what in the Sam hell that book is about. In four to eight sentences, tell the reader who the main character is/characters are, when/where the story is occurring, how it all takes place, and why they should care.

A book summary should not:

excerpt the book in italics. If I want an excerpt, I will undertake the radical and transformative step of opening the book.

compile praise from famous names. I don’t care that Stephen King liked this book (or was paid or pressured to say as much). I am not Steve. If I want to read book reviews, various publications and websites have me covered. I don’t care how great the book is if I don’t know what it is about.

write an equation in the form of: “if you liked X and Y, you’re going to love the book in your hands!” I do not currently wish to consider X and Y IPs. I am considering this book which is neither X nor Y. If it cannot stand on its own merits without the mention of Star Wars, Jurassic Park, South Park or whatever television series is hot right now, why should I bother with it?

On that note:

🍿 Leave Derivation to the Movies 🍿

I understand that one of the ways to “win” at capitalism is to observe a successful product and then produce one’s own version of it. However, I would like to propose a decade-long moratorium on all titles that are intended to conjure A Song of Ice and Fire. To all authors currently at work on A Vest of Mites and Mouse Droppings, I wish you joy of finding a new title. Likewise, the next person who strips a woman’s identity by using a title like The Radish Pickler’s Wife gets slapped. Magical schools of any kind are right out, as are any version of The Hunger Games.

Likewise, readers may no longer be lured in by the marriage of beloved IPs. That is, no more “The Terror meets The Wizard of Oz.” Don’t get me wrong - arctic, brooding Tin Man sounds a delight, but if the story containing him cannot be described independently of the source material, keep working on that synopsis.

🎉 Representation for All 🎉

Publishers are also to be discouraged from using identities (transgender, disabled, cultural, etc.) as marketing tools when the book in question makes no serious effort at actual representation but, rather, seeks to check off any “buzzy” term in order to sell more copies. I am delighted that readers are now seeing more representation in literature; everyone deserves to see themselves reflected in art. However, publishers should not introduce characters as Suzie Queue, a person of color who struggled with chronic illness and poverty unless these traits are (a) part of the story in question and (b) actually explored and engaged with during the course of the narrative. If Suzie can be stripped of all the markers listed above without altering the story, revision is needed. If Suzie has been constructed solely as a sales pitch, said book should be edited or reconsidered.

Publishers should also stop trying to seize on certain categories to the exclusion of everything else. I adore sapphic content - but not in cases where I feel that it was generically stamped onto a story because another title sold well. Please release a variety of books with a variety of characters and representations - but do it with some modicum of honesty. (Yes, capitalism, I know).

1️⃣2️⃣3️⃣ Not Everything Needs to be a Series 4️⃣5️⃣6️⃣

‘Nuff said.

💙💙 The Book with the Blue Cover 💙💙

Stop making every book cover in a given genre look identical. The technology  (and the underpaid artists) exists to make even the spines and the page edges beautiful; don’t let medieval monks outdo you, publishers. Make covers unique, distinguishable from one another, and breathtaking.

No more cutesy animated people on book covers. Romance novels are especially bad for this. The options seem to be (a) male gaze, (b) female gaze, (c) this cover art appears to have been designed for a third grader. All of these make me feel icky.

Artists, I am not trying to harm you, here, but, sometimes, art must bow before practicality. With that in mind: titles should be clear. Do not include a hyphen if there isn’t one. Do not “artfully arrange” the subtitle so that it is unclear which is the primary. Boring is fine if that is what is required to achieve legible. Do not break a word across lines or make letters “wavy.” I realize this seems silly (can’t I just look up any confusing titles?) but internet algorithms are currently hell on wheels (looking at you, Amazon, and your popularity nonsense), so I would rather not.

Why (YA), why!?

Blink 182 famously informed listeners that “nobody likes you when you’re twenty-three,” but, as a reader, seventeen is the age that has me grating my teeth. As a lifelong reader who did not have a rich, varied YA market (the options were Christopher Pike, kids with cancer, or Amish life at my local library and I cannot explain why), I am thrilled to see YA thrive and provide representation to all sorts of readers. However, life does not end at twenty-five. There should be more fun novels for readers of every age. Release the coming-of-age book, by all means, but, publishers, here is a money grab for you: release it again, with slight modifications, as a book with grown-up characters.

Readers, what else did I miss?

[bucky-boychik-barnes]

Ages ago, @awrubyblue made some fanart with Bucky finding a pocket size version of Steve. (Sadly I am unable to find them now, or I would link to them.)

My shipper brain immediately ran wild with a new type of Soulmate AU. Where you get a little version of your soulmate to carry around - I called it Pockets AU. And after blabbing on and on and on and on and on to my friend @subluxate about it, they made this AMAZING fic.

I finally remembered to ask permission to post it. I hope you enjoy. (Let me know if you do, they also wrote a fic about Steeb after Steve gets the serum.)

---

Characters: Sarah Rogers, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Steeb, Booky

Timeline: 1910s, very pre CA:TFA

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes

Genre: Soulmates, Kids, Wholesome, Shortfic, idk genres anymore just tropes

Word Count: 898

Steven is still snoring away when Sarah walks back to the bed they share. He’s rosy-cheeked, not fever-flushed like he tends to be when he makes noise like that, but then it’s getting to be autumn and his allergies do kick up around the middle of September.

“Wake up, love,” she says over the monstrous sounds coming from her wee lad. “Time for breakfast.”

His ready alertness, such a trial when he’s ill, is a blessing the precious times he’s well. He pushes himself up and smiles at her, covering a yawn with his hand. He thinks she doesn’t know he’s lost a tooth a bit before it was ready to come out, which tells her all she needs to know about how he lost it.

The yawn ends on a tiny squeak. Steven stares at her, his eyes huge in his narrow face.

“Got a pet mouse, have you?” Sarah asks for lack of anything else to say.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t do that.” He drops his hand from his mouth, and his thumb brushes against his pocket. A moment later, he’s yanked the pocket open--oh, she’s glad he didn’t pop a stitch, she has enough patching to do already--and is staring down into it. “Mama?”

Steven hasn’t called her ‘Mama’ since he declared himself a big boy on his birthday. “What is it?” she asks, already resigned to a dying kitten he found and forgot to mention.

He dips his other hand into the pocket. His fingers wiggle, and then he’s got hold of whatever it is and is drawing it free of the fabric. It whines and rolls over in Steven’s hand, burying its face against the ball of his thumb.

Sarah’s seen smaller, but not in some years, not since her younger sister woke to a similar little being sleeping under her hair. “That’s not a mouse,” she tells her son.

He shakes his head, his eyes never leaving the Pocket curling up in his hand. “It’s a Pocket,” he breathes. “Mama, I have a Pocket!”

Every house should have at least one, Sarah thinks as she leans down to kiss Steven’s forehead and get a better look at the pajama-clad little Pocket in her wee lad’s hand. “You’ll have to name your Pocket,” she tells him.

“I gotta think about it.” He sounds more congested, but he’s alert and still not fevered, so she stands and doesn’t stop him following her out to breakfast.

“I’m sorry we haven’t a thing for you to wear,” she tells the dark-haired little Pocket before she leaves for work, while Steven yanks on his short pants. “I’ll try to make you something tonight. Steven, mind the hems!”

The Pocket gives her a wide, sweet smile. He’s missing a tooth himself, the lower right front. She knew lads with smiles like that when she was a child herself, always either the most trouble or the most loyal. He babbles at her, a wash of playful happiness in the sounds, and Sarah wishes she could kiss his head.

Not that it would bother Steven or his Pocket, of course, but something always feels wrong to Sarah when she touches someone else’s Pocket. That seemed more common at home, but maybe it’s just living in the tenements and crowds that makes people so indifferent here. Half the time, they never seem to notice their hand has passed through a bit of someone’s love and soul.

“Make sure he names you today,” she continues to the Pocket. “He’s a mite stubborn sometimes, so you make sure he understands if you like a name, all right? Don’t go letting him run all over you.”

“Ma,” Steven groans at her. He finishes buttoning his shirt. “You’re giving him a bad impression of me!” His voice sounds thicker than it has the rest of the morning, enough that it takes her a moment to understand his words.

“A bad impression it might be, but an accurate one,” she says. “Remember your handkerchiefs, mind your teacher, I love you.” She kisses her boy’s head and lets herself out and does not worry about him making it to school on his own, just as she hasn’t worried since his first day.

-

She should have worried, she realizes when she gets home to find her son with a bruise rising on his jaw, a sturdy dark-haired lad about a year older than him, and the mending basket pulled out between them.

“Oh, Steven,” she sighs, since he’ll be disappointed if she doesn’t. “Who’s your friend, then?”

“Ma, this is Booky.” He sounds even worse than when she left, but it’s nothing a bit of steam won’t help. “Booky, this is my ma.”

“Booky?” she asks the lad, since she’s certain she hasn’t heard Steven correctly.

Possibly Booky hops to his feet. “Bucky, ma’am.” He smiles at her, sweet and wide and missing a tooth. “James Buchanan Barnes. I go to school with Stevie.”

“Steeb,” Steven grumbles, but he doesn’t do more than that.

“Nah, remember? That’s Steeb,” Bucky says, pointing to the tiniest Pocket Sarah has ever seen. He has wispy blond hair and looks as though he’s trying to climb Steven. “An’ that’s Booky.” This time, he points to the one rummaging through the mending.

“He’s not Booky!”

“He’s Booky,” Bucky confides to Sarah.

At least she can kiss the top of his head.

[tricornonthecob]

7

All Night Long, Steve Martin and Steep Canyon Rangers

1781

October is loathe to deny a share of its cold with Virginia floodplains. No, one must journey past South Carolina's lowlands before finding an autumn truly temperate. Last night had been downright frigid in camp.

"Your quarters want fer blankets, Sarah." But he's come to her empty-handed. The tent flap closes behind him. The space in her modest bivouac is small, so small, that the heat from his breath and his body and her breath and her body will be enough.

"And yet you've not brought me any." The light from her lantern dances on his features – flushed and serious and heated – before she leans over to snuff out the taper.

Silvery hoarfrost clings to the sedges and reeds that trail along the York River, from the source down to its mouth in the Chesapeake only a few miles away. Light sparkles through the field as it catches the sun's rising, until thick clouds of woodsmoke billow across and jackboots trample the grass.

Sarah pulls her cloak tight across her shoulder and sets for the campfire she knows James will be tending, and Henri supervising. There's some comfort in not having to share quarters with the soldiers and camp followers, as the three of them were used to in the early years of war. For one, breakfast is easier to manage. For another, there's privacy. Theoretically.

His breath is hot on her collarbone where he's pushed aside the layers of her clothes to nuzzle. She can feel his fingers dance along the gold of her locket. Her skirts have long been pushed and gathered at her waist, and her thighs sit bare against his skin where he’s undone his britches and pulled up his shirt. There's sweat and humidity between them, and if they don’t take more care to moderate their activity it will quicken a chill. For now they only have wherewithal to lie superheated, overspent, and entangled with each other.

It isn’t until James looks up from his cookpot and an adorable flush blooms across his features that she notices her gait is off. Though it doesn’t hurt to walk, she can’t deny feeling a mite raw. It feels good.

Everything smells like coupling now, though Sarah only notices the scent of his hair and neck. Their breathing deepens. She wonders, briefly, if they will fall asleep so indisposed; it probably won’t do to wake with her skirts up and his britches down. At length he stirs, pulls his weight from off of her, and she hears him shuffling his clothes to order in the dark.

It’s impossible to tell, really, what the hour might be. She hadn’t enough care to keep track of time - not when they couldn’t help but renew their ardor after every short rest. He should probably return to the tent he shares with Henri, at least before sunrise brings with it the usual scrutiny. But he doesn’t leave, and she doesn’t ask if he plans on it. Instead his arm loops around her side, his palm on her belly, and holds her close for as long as he has awareness to hold her close. October frost does not dare to impose itself in her quarters.

“Morn’n t’ye, Sarah.” His voice is soft, lazy, unbothered; but his eyes sparkle when he grins at her. Henri, for his part, rolls his eyes and stalks away, muttering something about duty-calls and then a string of French.

"Morning." She steps closer, and even after all this time her heart dances when they are alone together like this. “How did you sleep?”

“Fitfully, at first,” he replies, smile widening to take on a quality of mischief. “I fear'd I’d not have a wink o’ sleep. 'Twas hard work. But after a while at it, wouldn' y’know, I had the most restorative drowse o’ m’life!”

“My. You must have exhausted yourself.”

James’ eyes soften. He chuckles before lowering his voice to a purr. “I think someone had a hand in that.”

“Two, at times.”

Rich, and full, and more nourishing than an entire kettle of hot porridge, his laughter rings out with the steadily warming sunrise.

[darkmaga-returns]

What you see in this action is the way in which Washington wages war, in the details, the minutia of agency policy, ensuring that with enough internal support, an agency might operate completely outside the authority of the president and rely on those details of daily operation as a defense for their actions.

“Well, so what? Who cares if he rearranged the deck chairs on the Titanic?” It matters, because this is where the true power lies in the United States Government today, in the weeds, the obscurities of day to day business. I think it was Steve Bannon or one of his guests who pointed out that Trump had directed his subordinates at the State Department or wherever to massively overhaul the H-1B program early in his first term. That’s where it stayed. Some three years later it was discovered that nothing had been done at all on the program and he was incensed, but it was too late to force it through in the last days of his presidency. Trump, like most businessmen, expects that his mere utterance be taken for an order, where, in the business world, it usually is. Not so in the business of government where little careerist mites hover in the dust and route activity around what they want to protect out of some familiarity or simple spite. Corralling those forces is a monumental task in and of itself, much less being able to inspire them to act honorably.

These are the headwinds and it’s no mistake that it was the Department of Treasury that was targeted. They don’t want Trump to come in, make some changes and get the economy going again. That was one of the primary achievements of Biden, to destroy the economy, run up the debt and badmouth the resulting inflation. The purpose was to wreck the American economy where white Christians would suffer the most from the policies they enacted. Any government that can select white, Christian fathers and mothers as domestic terrorists will neglect any and all action that might benefit them in the slightest; and where they can be punished, all the better. The economy was one weapon and they used it over and over again.

[strangerweirdo15]

The King will fall pt3 (King! Steve Harrington x Fem! Henderson reader)

Warnings- Bullying, angsttttt, one sided love, mutual pinning,eventual  smut (soft love), crying, bad home life(steve), best friends-enemies-friends-lovers <3. 

Summary: you remember the day you met him, the day you fell in love with him, and the day you fell out of love with him. Then the day that everything changed what happens when two strayed souls are pulled back together and forced to question what happened that day. The day Steve Harrington broke your heart. 

All conversations are in BOLD writing 

*Not spell checked*

Previous:  https://www.tumblr.com/strangerweirdo15/722996588813893632/the-king-will-fall-pt2-king-steve-harrington-x?source=share

Chapter 3: same old same old

WC:2.2k 

The thing is life moves on, no matter the feelings you have. A lot has happened since 7th grade. You went through your first heartbreak but life went on. There are times now and then where you miss what used to be but there was a more overpowering feeling of resentment and anger . I couldn't quite put my finger on it. 

I'm now a senior. Well technically I'll be one after this summer is over. I started High School. That's when King Steve already got crowned going into his sophomore year and already I didn't recognize the boy I Used to Know. I kept my head down. I never wanted to be singled out by him or any of his friends. I had a couple good friends. Robin was my best friend though she knew everything I went through with him. Our friendship grew stronger from 7th grade and now I'm here.

 Working a summer minimum wage job at Scoops Ahoy in the new Star Court Mall my brother is gone at camp and I thought there's no harm. Last year I had a few run-ins with he who shall not be named. Some crazy stuff happened that my brother didn't tell me but I'm glad I got to be there for him even though now I'll have nightmares about a demon creature that ate our cat. Do I know why the one person that was available to give him a ride for him had to be Steve Harrington no. I do know how I felt the minute I saw him though my brother was younger when everything happened he's still new I never wanted to be around him that's why I threw that whole night I did not speak one word or even look in his Direction and after it was over and he tried to talk to me I did not give in I would not let him hurt me like that again. 

When Robin brought up the idea for us both to get a job so we can spend our summer together and earn money I thought no harm no foul. I think she forgot to mention that Steve the hair Harrington was also starting a new job there this summer. There were certain scenarios I just couldn't avoid. And I had to look at him and talk to him and breathe the same air as him and every inch of my being wanted to scream in his face

I had just gotten back from the store with my mom picking up some new cleats. See if something happens to you that hurts a lot you tend to pick up certain things to distract you, mine was soccer and I loved it. I loved my teammates. I love the adrenaline. My brother got home yesterday from camp. I'm getting dressed in my stupid uniform to go work a shift with my best friend and my worst enemy. 

I walked out into the living room where my brother was Messing with his walkie-talkie

Hey dust mite if you want to catch a ride with me to the mall I'm leaving right now. I said. He  jumped in the passenger seat of my car as we drove to the mall. I missed you kid, how was camp meet any hot chicks. He looked over at me with that little goofy smile of his. No way did my little brother get a girlfriend?. I am shocked as I'm turning down the radio. Her name is Suzie. She's so smart and she's even hotter than Phoebe Cates. I shake my head laughing. I cannot believe my baby brother has a girlfriend. Where does the time go? 

So what's new with you sis have you..... um talked to Steve a lot? 

I look over at him and disbelieve he knows I hate when he talks about him. What do you think? I say I don't feel like I'm being irrational. My brother just got home and already he's asking about stupid Steve, the one person who he Couldn't stop talking about all year long. Okay...okay I mean It's been almost 4 years I understand he was an asshole but he's changed really you know he talks about yo-. I cut him off before he could continue. Dustin please stop. I honestly don't care what he has to say and I can deal with how I want to deal with what happened for how long I want to deal with it. Can we have one conversation where you don't bring him up okay I missed you and you're already talking about him i just-.. i..t ...it doesn't matter we're already here.  

(Flash Back) snowball dance end of 84' 

I'm volunteering for the Snowball Dance as a chaperone. I've gotten a lot closer with Nancy and Jonathan. Our Brothers had been friends for a long time so you know at some point we were going to have to become friends. Nancy asked me if I was available to volunteer and I just thought after everything that had gone on what's the harm.I like Nancy she was a good person protected my brother even though it did hurt when her and Steve got together everybody knew about them the golden couple I thought after all these years I would have been okay but seeing them it hurt. Don't get me wrong I know Steve was in his slut phase. There was gossip left and right about him. It just still kind of hurts. I think a part of me would always love him… 

I told Dustin I could take him to the dance. He told me he needed extra time to get ready and he had a ride. I didn't ask who it was but I assumed. I told him I would be waiting out front even though El saved the world again I still got a little scared something could happen to my brother. 

(Dustin and Steve in the car

All right all right kid stop worrying your hair looks good I'm sure Max will like it. Dustin looked over at Steve and sighed. Steve looked at the window and then he cleared his throat. So um.. how's yo- your sister. Steve had changed over the last couple months and after Nancy dumped him. The day you guys stopped being friends Steve didn't really know what to do with himself he missed you a lot actually missed your talks missed you whenever his dad would yell at him or when nobody remembered his birthday. He missed your laugh. When you started high school he thought it was best to keep his distance. He had just started becoming popular. Every girl wanted him and every guy wanted to be him. But he noticed you. He always noticed you. He even went and watched your championship soccer game he saw you make the winning goal even though he was hiding behind the bleachers he looked at you and wished he was out there cheering with you. you never tried to talk to him either and you had every right but back then all he wanted to do was keep his front on let nobody in really and have everybody love him. Even if it wasn't real. Now that he's older and he's grown he regrets what he did. He still remembers the day everything happened the way you looked at the sound of your muffled cry. How he saw you run out to your mom's minivan and he walked back into the dance and acted like nothing happened. He missed your friendship. She's okay. I think she hasn't really talked much since what happened but I think she's okay. Steve nodded his head. He had Home Alone after that night, times like this is when he missed you.)

Lo and behold pulls up Steve Harrington's BMW. I do have to say the hatred I felt for him had died down a little bit in the last week. Maybe it was because he helped save my brother and his friends and the world I don't really know. My brother stepped out of the car and so did Steve. I looked at his head and started laughing. What the hell did you do to my brother's hair Harrington?. I walked up to them. Do you like it? Dustin asks me to flashing his new pearls. I could see the real enjoyment in my brother's eyes so I smiled. You know what I think I just might. I went to try and ruffle his hair but he hit my hand away.Not the hair not the hair. He whined. Get on inside. I told him and giggled. He ran up the steps into the school. I looked over to see Steve staring at me with a look in his eyes I couldn't put my finger on. You alright Harrington? I turn around to fully look at him. He turned his head down slightly blushing that he had been caught. Um it's just I haven't heard your laugh in a long time is all. I look down for a minute trying to contemplate what he's saying and why he is saying it is this cruel joke there's no way it could be anything else. Steve started to think about what he just said in the look on your face he was mortified. i'm sorry all i meant- he starts to say. Steve we have barely talked in the past 5 years up until recently with everything that happened I have so much as looked at your direction I don't know what happened to you but I want you to stop trying to do whatever this is if you're guilty or something want to clear your conscience don't do it on my Accord it only makes you feel better. I turn on my heels and start walking back into the gym.

Y/N wait can we just talk for a second..  I can hear Steve running up behind me and as I was going to turn around and tell him to stop the gym door opens. Out walks Ally Parker, Head cheerleader at Hawkins High and part-time evil witch. She spots Steve and brushes past Me Knocking my shoulder. Watch out. She says in her snarky uptight tone she's just another one of those popular people who makes everybody feel little to boost their own confidence but I guess it's right where Steve belongs. I scoff and roll my eyes as she walks in front of me and bats her eyelashes at Steve. Hi Steve. She says Oh hey Ally I'm kind of busy right now. He says gazing up at me and trying to move past her. But she grabs his bicep with her perfectly manicured hand. She looks back at me and rolls her eyes. Why do you even need to talk to her? You should come out with us we're all going to the drive-in. Want to take me in your car? She lets out her evil witch giggle. I genuinely couldn't believe what was happening, same old same old. I scoffed loudly, turning the attention back to me. Yeah Steve, go have fun at the drive-in. Something about this Situation is bringing me back to the 7th grade snowball and that's why I don't know why I feel my cheeks going red and the tears forming behind my eyes. Steve must notice it too because he looks at me with those beautiful deep brown eyes full of pity. He reached out to grab my hand but I yanked it away Y/N please let me explain.

Thanks for making us relive history. I walked back into the gym down that same hallway where My heart was broken all those years ago. I can't believe he was doing it again, what I would do to not still be in love with Steve Harrington....( flash back over)

Dustin would never understand how I felt. He didn't know what happened at that Snowball Dance last year and I don't know why I feel like this. Maybe it's because I felt completely betrayed by somebody I called my best friend and yeah I know I was in seventh grade so why does it matter. I don't know I wish I could stop feeling what I feel. I wish I could just get over it and not feel resentment and anger but it's really hard when you're forced to be around the person that hurt you. And it sucks even more that he is always flirting. I don't want to feel what I feel but I can't help it so my heart hurts a little more each time. Because I see him in his little goofy sailor costume and I can't help but smile. Then I feel like that little girl, that little girl who just wanted Steve Harrington to like her, tell her, her dress was pretty to hold her hand to ask her to dance but I never got that and yeah I need to get over it but I can't..

End of pt 3 I'm not sure where to take this. but i hope you enjoy tho