#Young mum

[supercanonfille]

it’s you, it’s you. it’s all for you, everything i do for you.

[talistableau]

I have a small fic ive been writing where reader is a teen mum or mom depending where you’re from and her and eddie fancied each other before she just suddenly upped and left and reunite at one of Steve’s parties bc she’s back in Hawkins and i’m not sure when i’ll post it but i’ll keep you updated <3

[jjsanguine]

August: I legitimately feel I might die if you break up with me for real

Sara after kissing him one last time: it'll pass

[foul-milk]

the mental image of Alex acting all shocked when Jost told him that George is moving to Mercedes like the two of them haven't obviously been gossiping about that for probably as long as George has known is sending me 😭😭😂😂

[akajustmerry]

the way shiv is so isolated because of the misogyny that permeates her life drives me so crazy. even when she enacts that same misogyny on other women, it only leaves her more alone. she's on the outside her whole life. a daughter among sons, a father who doesn't see her, a mother who never wanted her, a husband she can never trust loved her for her and not her father's power, no real friends to speak of, and even her political career is marred by the question of whether she's good at it or whether they just want her for her father's name. a father that doesn't even take her seriously enough to respect what she says when her political expertise is asked for. and then here she is at her dad's wake, pregnant with no one she can tell without it taking away what little validity she has to stand behind the table, she's in the midst of her divorce, the political candidate they picked to spite her on his way, her father is dead and despite everything he was the one parent she loved, her brothers are tag team disregarding her while lying they aren't, and people are smiling and laughing and she can't stand it. she's so alone, so surrounded on all sides by men who don't really care about what's happening that not even her grief is safe from the sound of laughter. I think she should be allowed to take a baseball bat to the board meeting.

[waugh-bao]

[jeanvanjer]

Y’all I found the inspo to that fugly dress Kate wears

Jokes aside, as an Indian I’m very insulted by this. Clearly no Indian designer or even a single South Asian mother nani or dadi was consulted for this.

[daffi-990]

Yeah how about we don’t be this person.

[justfriendsbestthings]

If I were Linda and my 16 year old son was sitting at home, with red rimmed eyes, both his friends there, when I was meant to pick him up from school to go to the police station to report a crime done to him, refusing to go now and saying ‘if everyone’s just going to protect themselves and their families, then I’m going to do the same’ I would have so many questions. Soooo many questions. Come on Linda, I know you don’t like confrontation but come on!!

[findafight]

Thinking about a pjo au where Steve's been a permanent camper for...forever. idk I only have two vivid scenes of it in my mind.

First, Dustin is a son of Hephaestus and has been trailing after Steve since his first summer when he was ten and was stuck in the Hermes cabin while he was unclaimed. (The Hermes cabin is really split into Hermes kids and Unclaimed kids. It's big and warm but there's still that unspoken divide there. Hermes, it seems, despite being the patron of the unclaimed children of his godly peers, is always quick to claim his own. They'll be in the cabin together anyways but, well. He seems to see their pain of being unwanted more than others.) So whilst there Dustin, ten and fascinated by camp, imprinted on the oldest, snarkiest unclaimed kid there. The unofficial Head Camper of the unclaimed (as you cannot be a head camper if you are unclaimed), Steve.

Which is how Steve ended up going to Hawkins for the summer before camp three years later with Robin (daughter of Selene, who he met the year before and got on with like a house on fire) at his side, in the stupidest uniforms known to man.

And working at scoops is how they end up finding Eddie, who seems to be able to see through the Mist just fine, and who monsters are after. Which, shit. Means he's eighteen or nineteen and has lasted in the outside world without camp, a remarkable feat. But! They've got bigger fish to fry! Like getting to camp.

Dustin babbles as Steve drives, Robin in the passenger seat, all the way to long island. He tells Eddie about camp, about sword fighting and capture the flag and the banquets and campfires. He tells Eddie about the forge he spends so much time in, all his friends, the Party, the way he's wired the radios to work across the country so he can speak to Suzie (daughter of Athena, a secret kept from her adoptive mother who was told Suzie was her father's cousin's child) all the way in Utah in the fall. Robin pipes in, every now and again, offers information about the gods, how camp runs.

Steve focuses on the road. He talks about the kids, Dustin's friends mostly, and Robin, and the rest of camp. It irks Eddie, that this guy who took out a Chimera with a baseball bat studded with, apparently, magic nails, isn't really adding anything. Dustin's been at camp every summer since he was ten, Robin came two and a half years ago, and Eddie knows their godly parents too. So he leans on the driver's seat, close to Steve.

"so." He says. Casual-like. "Who's your" he wiggles his fingers "godly parent?"

Steve shrugs. "Unclaimed." He says. His hands grip the steering wheel.

Eddie hums. Notices Robin glancing at him and shaking her head. Ignores it. "Well. Bummer. How old were you when you found camp or whatever?"

Steve's knuckles turn white. He answers.

"six months."

Eddie doesn't get it.

"you've only been at camp six months? But-you talk like you've been there for longer. When you guys found out how old I was you were all surprised, wh-"

"you asked how old I was. As far as Chiron and Mr. D can tell, I was six months old when I was dropped off with a note that had just my first name on it at the edge of the woods. Dryads brought me to them when they found me. Been a full time camper ever since."

There's. Heaviness, in the silence that follows.

Eddie knows about abandonment and wanting more and knowing he deserves more. Knows how much it means to him that Uncle Wayne took him in and calls him son so affectionately it may as well be true. And. Steve said he was unclaimed. That he's been at camp since he was six months old. He's been a full time camper his entire goddamn life. Ain't that a kick in the pants.

Steve shrugs again. "Neither of my parents want me, my mortal parent couldn't get rid of me fast enough and my godly one hasn't made a peep. So. I look after the other unclaimed kids. It's how I met Dustin."

They don't talk about parents so much after that.

and idk plot things happen blah blah blah

THEN.

Steve sees a kid, maybe ten, on the edge of the woods. He pauses, concerned. Camp is safe for the most part, but there are still monsters in the woods. Drifting over, he sees the girl has a scarf loosely over her head, like a veil, letting dark curls fall in front of her eyes from how she's pulled her knees up to sit. He doesn't recognize her, but that doesn't really mean much.

"hey! You okay over here?" He says, hopes he comes off as friendly. His nerves have been frazled and he just wants to sit by the peer and watch the sunset with Robin and Eddie after dinner. Breathe easy for a little while.

The girl smiles at him, tilts her head to the side. He kneels in front of her, trying to make himself smaller so she's not afraid.

"I'm Steve. You doing okay here? It's not really safe to be alone in the woods..."

The girl reaches a hand out, her skin baby soft. She sighs. "I know exactly who you are, Steve Harrington." She says.

Her eyes, he realizes, are so much older than a ten year old's. He says nothing as they look at each other.

"do you remember," she starts, "when you first gave your offering to me, specifically?" And Steve knows, even though he already knew, who this is.

He nods. She brushes her thumb across his cheek, tenderly, motherly, for all she looks nearly half his age. "You were four. Barely old enough to really understand what the offerings of food you scraped into the fire were for. But you did it, and you did it for me. Very few ever do it just for me. But you were looking for a home, and I was the one you thought could help you find it. You kept doing it for me, giving up your best bite, every day after."

"yes." He says, because what else do you say to a goddess? To a goddess you have prayed to when you could think of no one else who would care to listen?

She releases his face and stands, slowly, before reaching out her hand for him to take as he gets up himself.

"I have a proposition for you." She says, swinging their hands between them, as children are wont to do.

"oh?"

She squeezes his hand. "Yes. I cannot tell you your godly parent, even if I knew who, as my siblings and peers have made it clear that sharing that type of secret is not allowed." She gazed up at him, big dark eyes surrounded by tight black curls escaping her veil. "And what a shame that is. Leaving you Unclaimed."

Steve squeezes her hand back. They slowly walk towards where they shall eat. "well. That is the gods' prerogative."

She hums. "They are a fool, whoever they are. But. Their foolishness is my reward. That brings me to my offering for you." She stops, they are near the amphitheatre, turning to face him fully and holding out her other hand for him to take. "I have heard your prayers to me at each meal, seen you care for your fellow campers. I have watched you grow and change into someone trustworthy, someone loyal and caring. I have seen how the children gather around you for comfort and how you freely give it, how you take comfort in your service to others." She breathes deeply, as though to steady herself. "I have seen my fellow gods look over you, an Unclaimed child of no-one, who never truly lived in the outside world before coming to the haven they made, and I have been angered by it. You are steadfast and loyal. You are brave and protective. You have worked hard to create not only a place that is safe, but a home that is welcoming."

She smiles widely now, giddy. Steve still does not speak. A lump caught in his throat.

"it is that last fact, that has led me here today. I offer you this, Steve. My cabin is yours to do with what you will, to give a home for those homeless. For so long as you tend my hearth and keep the home, should you accept it, I would give you my patronage." She releases his hands to reach up to cup his face between her small hands. She brushes away the tears that have gathered on his cheeks.

"I offer you the home you have given so many, the place to belong you have been building for others, Steve of Camp Half Blood. Will you accept this? The one gift I can give my most loyal knowing worshipper since the Vestal Virgins?" They both giggle, absurdly, at this.

Steve nods. "Yes." He whispers, "yes, Lady Hestia, I accept your patronage."

She pulls his face down, goes up on her tip toes, and places a gentle, loving kiss on his forehead. When she pulls back, her eyes reflect the bonfire that has been lit beside them.

"go, then. And tend to my hearth and your home." She says, and releases him fully at last.

He turns to the fire, to the tables laid out, to his fellow campers watching him and the goddess from their benches. He scratches the back of his neck. Smiles.

Dustin, as he so often does, breaks the silence. "Holy shit!"

Beside Steve, Hestia is gone.

[sybill-the-seer]

Young ~3-y/o Harry following Petunia around the house while she does chores. Young Harry holding onto Petunia’s skirt and sucking his thumb while she does the dishes. Young Harry playing quietly in the grass near Petunia while she weeds the garden. Young Harry just wanting to be WITH someone at all times. Young Harry trotting along after Petunia all day being her little shadow until her patience wears thin and she sends him to his cupboard. Young Harry being a clingy child who desperately needs affection but never gets it.

[trans-cuchulainn]

am i xkcd comicing about how much people know about . anything to do with writing materials

"the average person probably only knows the definition of 'scribe' and 'manuscript'" "and 'parchment', of course" "of course"

[divinekangaroo]

Was thinking while watching that scene where Pol tells Ada about her abortion.

Polly really doesn't take on the mum role in the family to my mind, or even the matriarch/aunt tbh. And I think, there was some summary somewhere that referred to her as the consigliere and while she does perform a certain bouncing-board, plan formation role with Tommy (and only with Tommy, and only with insight into certain parts of his plans; I'm struggling to think of times the others listen to her without Tommy backing her up, S3 as example of when they don't), her other behaviours in the family also mean this isn't her role at all.

She's the wild older sister who is loving and explosive and hurtful, and incredibly, incredibly fragile, afraid and she feels so very scared, vulnerable and alone, most of the time. She just wants all her loved ones to be happy and safe and in achieving that, Tommy is frequently as much of an obstacle as he is the vehicle to get her that. I do headcanon that Polly lives 99% of her life in fear and on that edge of breakdown, it's just that she's lived with it so long she probably doesn't even acknowledge it any more. Her reactivity is so high.

So yeah, it's no wonder Tommy sort of plays that joint patriarch-matriarch role (arranging marriages etc), because Polly is *not* playing the matriarch.

[kissmefriendly]

On a slightly more serious note, I just wanna post this before the final entry, not counting the epilogue. I’m so, so thankful for Dracula Daily. It’s been an absolute blast beginning to end, reading discourse, seeing the jokes and memes and all the art, reading theories and reactions. And getting to be apart of that! Reading this book again in this format was a hell of an experience but the fact that I didn’t do it alone, I don’t know. We’ve all gotten to experience this book in a new way in real time together. I love that. And I hope that it won’t be just a one-off event, either. And even if it is? But this? It’s been wonderful. So, thank you to everyone for collectively going nuts over a 130 year old novel. Thank you for posting and making those artworks and memes and analyses. Reminds you you’re human and not stuck and alone.

[how-many-random-fandoms]

In the tent scene Simon is a much better person than most of us. If I got shushed like that Willie would be getting punched. And the way Simon just went along with it.

[ive-fallen-and-i-cannot-get-up]

i had to pause this mini wip bc of how fucking beautiful shohreh aghdashloo is omg

look at her!!