#chop hopper

[lemuseum]

[misscromwellsmonocle]

Chop Suey (1929) Edward Hopper

[ich-hoere-dir-zu]

Chop Suey

© Edward Hopper (1929)

[samuelyaboyy]

will draw someday

[toxhopper]

i guess it wasnt that hard to do

[brooklynbutterflyarts]

Edward Hopper Art Print Framed Finest Quality Print Dry Mounted For a Perfect Finish Molding:Professional 1" Flat Top Black (Solid-Maple Wood) Includes glass & Metal Hooks installed ready for your wall Print: Bonded & Dry-mounted Print on Foam Core. Perfectly flat and smooth finish Edward Hopper Room in Brooklyn The art poster is printed on high quality card-stock mat paper The framing adds depth, giving the display a unique "looking through a window'' appearance. The print is bonded to foam core on a hot vacuum press. This bonding gives the print a perfect flat and smooth texture. This process also insures the print will never fold or fade with age or moisture. This wonderful display makes a thoughtful and original gift containing a classic vintage touch yet modern design, allowing it to fit alongside both modern and classic decor.

[morganbritton132]

An unfortunate byproduct of Steve’s neighbors always calling the cops on him is that Steve is like six years old and hasn’t really learned what’s appropriate to tell people. So now Hopper knows way too much about too many people.

Steve may not understanding the implication of his words, but Hopper does. Dick Harrington is cheating on his wife. Again. And he’s using his son as a cover. Nice.

Hopper predicting a noise complaint call in his future.

He knows that Angela Harrington has ‘special pills’ she takes for headaches and they make her sleepy. That’s why Hopper can’t call her when her son wrecks his bike being an idiot at the quarry.

He also knows that, despite what Steve thinks, Dave and Maria’s oldest boy doesn’t keep a skunk in his bedroom and is definitely getting high when his parents aren’t home.

He knows that their second oldest keeps porn under his bed. Steve told him that one giggling so hard his eyes were watering.

When Carol’s older sister babysits them, she bribes them with candy not to tell their parents that she left them alone.

There’s a newspaper thief in Loch Nora and Steve knows who it is. Tommy Hagan sometimes wets the bed. Benny Hammond will give you free fries if you clean off some of the tables. The teenager that teaches Steve’s swim class at the community pool accidentally burnt a kid with a cigarette last week.

Otis Harrington fought in World War 2, lives in Florida, and is apparently a ninja. Hopper is told this while being karate chopped in the knee.

Joyce Byers has a crush on him. Hopper knows this because Steve tells him that he heard her call him handsome and, “Nicole said I was handsome during recess once and then she kissed me. That means that girls like like you so Mrs Byers’ like likes you.”

Steve informs him, “You should marry her.”

“I’m already married.”

“Oh…” Steve frowns down at his hands where he scrapped the hell out of them on this sidewalk ten minutes ago. “You should get divorced.”

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Eleven

Steve watches as Eddie positions himself at the breakfast bar. He easily swings up the end of his tail, the final couple of feet laid out on the chopping board.

He slices a thick piece, turning it and cutting it into neat chunks. It looks like raw steak inside. He cuts a thicker slice, making more chunks, then he does it again.

Next to him, Robin picks up the chunks and slides them onto metal skewers, “thanks Eddie, these will go great on the grill.”

“Yeah, well, we need to get rid of it at some point, might as well use it up now-”

Steve wakes up choking. He doesn’t make a noise, or at least, he doesn’t think he has. He just lies there, heart beating frantically, eyes wet, telling himself again and again, just a dream, just a dream, just a dream.

Steve lies there, waiting for his heart to calm and his breathing to even out, the sweaty flush on his skin slowly cools. He really needs to go back to sleep, but he knows already that he probably won’t be able to settle.

He wants to talk to Eddie. Wants to see him. Doesn’t think he’ll be able to go back to sleep without reassuring himself that Eddie actually is okay which – okay, that’s a bit ridiculous, but he just...needs to. For his own sanity.

Steve blinks gritty eyes at the clock, nearly half three in the morning. His parents are down the hall in their room, and Eddie is at Hopper’s cabin, hopefully asleep on the couch, and there’s not much Steve can do about that.

He lies there, staring at the ceiling in the dark, willing himself to relax. The more he tries, the less likely it becomes, until it hits him; the walkie.

He rolls out of bed, and feeling a little bad for waking Eddie up, makes sure it’s on their channel and the volume is down low before holding down the trigger to speak, “Eddie?”

Nothing. Silence. God Steve is an absolute shit for doing this, and he hopes it’s not so loud that he wakes Hopper or El. He resolves to try one more, if this doesn’t work he will just have to make himself leave it alone and go back to bed, “Eddie?”

There’s a few seconds of silence this time, before a quiet crackle of static, “Stee?”

“Sorry to wake you up buddy, are you okay?”

“Eddidie fine. Pear and grape for din-ner. El Eddidie dance. Mus-ic. Movie on TV. Clean teeth. Couch sleep. Blanket. Stee good?”

“That’s...really good Buddy. Yeah, I’m fine, just had a bad dream,” Steve wants to ask about the dancing and the music and what the movie was and everything else Eddie has been up to today, but it’s the middle of the night, and it would be selfish to keep Eddie talking, “you should sleep.”

“Stee bad dream tell Eddidie? Dark TV tell?”

Steve thinks for a second, “I dreamed you got hurt. Eddie ow. Many ow, really bad. I was...scared.”

There’s a few seconds silence before Eddie replies, “Eddidie no ow.”

“No, I know buddy, but thank you for telling me, we should get some sleep. Night.”

“Stee perfect.”

“Yeah, love you too.”

Steve’s been lying in bed for a full minute before he realizes what he’s just said. It doesn’t really matter; Eddie doesn’t know what it means.

Stupid brunch. Stupid brunch that stopped Steve visiting Eddie before work. Stupid parents. Stupid Keith and his stupid duty rosta so stupid Robin is at stupid work and she couldn’t come to stupid brunch. His parents are so much nicer when she’s there; something to do with keeping up appearances in front of strangers or whatever, Steve knows why they do it. It’s not because they actually like Robin or anything. Steve's pretty sure his parents don;t actually like anyone, not even each other.

Steve sits in his car and sighs. Watches as the door cracks open and the light spills out. Eddie sitting there in his blue sweater. As Steve watches, he lifts his hand and gives a little wave. Steve shouldn’t be visiting this late really, but he couldn’t miss a day. It’s not fair on Eddie, for one thing, being left here like this, when he doesn’t really understand why.

Steve gets out of the car and jogs over to the house, Eddie letting him in. El’s not there, Steve figures she’s already in bed. Hopper’s putting dishes in the kitchen when Steve comes in, “sorry I’m so late Hop.”

Hopper shrugs, “doesn’t matter. I’m going to bed anyway, Eddie, get the lights and lock up before sleep, okay?”

Eddie nods, “make dark. Key lock make safe.”

“You got it. Night kids.”

“Night Hop.”

“Night Hopper.”

Steve throws himself down on the couch; today has just sucked all the way through, Eddie climbs up next to Steve, muttering, “Eddidie not kid,” under his breath.

Steve snorts a laugh, Eddie clearly does not want to be lumped into the same category as the, ‘mongrels,’ “if you’re not a kid, what are you?”

Eddie thinks for a second, the points past Steve, “book please,” Steve hands it over, leaning close to watch Eddie as he thumbs his way with fair accuracy to the page he wants; Steve really should get him some more books. He’s also got to thank El for working on Eddie’s manners.

It’s the frog page again.

Eddie points to the ‘froglet’, “Eddidie.”

“So...like a teenager?” Steve hazards vaguely. Steve figured Eddie is the same age as him, more or less, just because the human parts look the same and are roughly the same size; it’s not really anything to go on though. Steve points, “when do you grow into a frog?”

“Later.”

“What?”

Eddie nods, “later.”

“Eddie...are you going to get legs?” Steve has to be sure. Has to understand what Eddie is saying.

“Legs?”

Steve lifts his feet off the floor, waving his legs up and down a little, trying not to get too excited before he's sure, pointing, “legs.”

“Yes. Eddidie legs later.”

All of the worry Steve's been harboring about what to do with Eddie just...lifts. He knows Eddie couldn't live with him, hidden away, forever...but the thought of releasing Eddie somewhere. Leaving him alone, worrying about what would happen if people found him. Never seeing him again, all of it was tearing at Steve inside, a burden he didn't know how to answer, “Eddie! Why didn’t you tell me! This is awesome-”

“Legs bad.”

“What…why?”

Eddie closes the book, looking sad again, he takes Steve’s hand, “called?”

“That’s my hand buddy...and those parts are fingers,” Steve lets Eddie link their fingers together, the webbing preventing them locking together fully, “Eddie, why are legs bad?”

Eddie shuffles closer, turning his body into Steve’s, “called?” Eddie uses his free hand to point to Steve’s eyes.

“Eyes, buddy,” Eddie’s finger makes contact as he shifts in the seat to lean ever closer, tail pressed tight to Steve’s thigh, he traces Steve’s brow, “eye brows.” Eddie’s finger, his black, rounded claw traces along Steve’s nose, “nose.” Steve can’t move, doesn’t feel like he can breathe really as he waits for what comes next. Eddie’s fingertip traces Steve’s bottom lip, ever so gently he touches, leaving a tingling on Steve's skin, “lips. Lips and...mouth.”

Eddie nods, satisfied, taking his hand away, and Steve can finally take another breath, even with the distraction of Eddie's touch, he can’t avoid the sense of mounting horror, “Eddie, why are legs bad?”

Eddie has to drop Steve’s hand to bring both up to his face, he gets as far as pressing his palms to his cheeks before Steve grabs his wrists, dragging his hands away from his face, “no,” Steve says, horrified, “no, that’s not what happens. You’re wrong, that can’t be what happens.”

Eddie nods, sad but sure.

“No. Eddie no, that’s not- I won’t let you,” and Steve knows as he says it he has no fucking control over this whatsoever.

Eddie takes Steve hand again, pushes it against the back of his head. Steve’s fingers worm their way in, feeling that familiar starburst of ridges. They’re familiar as the rest of Eddie now, Steve’s been washing Eddie’s hair pretty much every other day for weeks and weeks now. Steve fingers find the place where they meet in the middle, right at the back of Eddie’s head, “mouth.”

Steve fights the instinct to pull his hand away in horror. He forces himself to keep it there; it won’t hurt him, Steve can feel the ridges of Eddie’s fucking skull, hard and unforgiving under his skin and hair. That can’t be right, it just doesn’t make any sense but...Steve can imagine it, the petals of a Demogorgon’s mouth unfolding.

“Stee?”

Steve’s voice breaks when he speaks, and he can feel the first tear break free, rolling down his cheek, “yeah buddy?”

“El tell Eddidie...Stee tell Eddidie I love you. El tell Eddidie love...Eddidie love Stee too. Stee perfect.”

“Oh buddy," Steve's voice cracks, "...yeah. Yeah, I love you too,” Eddie wipes away Steve’s tears with his knuckle, licking the water off his finger. Eddie half climbs and Steve half pulls Eddie into his lap. They hold each other tight, Eddie gently nuzzling his face back and forth against Steve's cheek, against his neck, breathing in Steve's hair and skin.

Steve does the same to Eddie, hands tight on Eddie's tail, on his back, in his hair, wherever he can reach to touch, committing Eddie to memory.

Steve doesn’t go home, he can’t. He just sleeps, fully clothed, on the couch, pulling Eddie down on top of him, and holding him close.

Steve and El sit on the stoop, all bundled up. Steve’s got a coffee and El’s got a hot chocolate. They watch as Eddie moves along the tree line; he’s collecting pine cones and burying them. Planting seeds. He uses his hard, blunt claws to dig; the earth is maybe a little harder because of the cold, but it doesn’t seem to bother or hinder Eddie at all.

It feels precious now, watching Eddie. It feels like the time he has with him is suddenly short; that he needs to make the most of every single second. Steve tries to absorb all of it, the way Eddie moves. The look on his face as he examines his finds, his fingers, the dark nails. The way the light is absorbed by the dark matte black of his tail. The way his hair gets blown around in the fresh breeze, shining a little in the light, thanks to Steve’s hair care regimen.

How he smiles at Steve when he catches him watching.

Steve tries not to think about last night; it’s too much to absorb. Too strange; surely Eddie cannot be right. But then Steve reminds himself of where Eddie came from, and the fact that the girl he’s sitting next too can move shit with her mind, and figures he has to adjust his expectations around what could be normal.

“He does this a lot,” El says.

“Huh, maybe he does this back home too; always wondered what he gets up to when I’m not there.”

“He does,” El says with certainty.

“Oh have you...have you looked. Inside his head?”

“Only a little. Just to check if he’s alright and...when he’s struggling to find the words.”

“Oh. Yeah. Is it...is it very different?”

“Yes.” El seems to think for a moment, “he thinks in...pictures. People think in words a lot. And he pretty much only thinks about now. People think about a lot of things at once, the past, the future. Eddie doesn’t do that, there’s mostly only now.”

“Huh...I guess that...makes sense.”

Eddie comes back to the foot of the steps, brushing loose things from the woods off the sweater of the day, “Hopper now,” he informs them.

“Oh yeah Buddy? Can you hear his car?” Steve touches his ear.

“Hopper car yes, Eddidie hear. Hopper inied work.”

Steve can’t help but smile, even though it feels like he wants so cry at the same time, “what is Hopper’s job, do you know?”

Eddie nods, “Hopper Hawkins Indiana safe.”

“Yeah buddy, that’s exactly right.”

Part Thirteen

[kvetchlandia]

Edward Hopper Chop Suey 1929

[canonically-online]

edward hopper paintings i like

1. "Nighthawks" (1942)-The Art Institute of Chicago

2. "New York Movie" (1939)-Museum of Modern Art (New York)

3. "Automat" (1927)-Des Moines Art Center (Iowa)

4. "Chop Suey" (1929)-Private Collection

5. "Two on the Aisle" (1927)-Toledo Museum of Art (Ohio)

6. "Chair Car" (1965)-Private Collection

[emryses]

stick a pin in it

written for @steddiemicrofic march prompt: pin | 388 words | rated: T

During the summer of 1986, Eddie makes himself a new battle vest. Try as they might, they can't quite get Steve Harrington's blood out of the first one; and though Eddie thinks that may add a certain…je no say whatever to it, in the end, he finds an old jean jacket of Wayne’s, chops the arms off and starts all over again.

It doesn’t end up being too difficult. He repurposes patches from the old one. Cuts up an old t-shirt and sews it on the back. Even paints some shit on it with Jane El Hopper-Byers’ paints she lets him borrow. He does it all by hand, like he did the other one, because he likes it. Because it turns out to be pretty decent physical therapy for his bat-eaten muscles. Because it reminds him of the way his mom used to patch up their clothes when he was little, because they couldn’t afford to buy something brand new.

He adds to it all summer long, in bits and pieces as he finds things he wants to attach to it. The vest ends up being an extension of himself, you see. A little bit of his heart on the outside, cloaking himself with it. He adds to the vest, like he adds a gaggle of children to his group of friends, or a kiss from Steve Harrington to his list of first times.

One day, in late August, they sit off to the side of the Harrington pool, teenagers splashing around like children. Steve is laid out like a goddamn Adonis in his tiny swim trunks, sun bathing and delicious. Eddie sews in his cut off jeans, he hasn’t been able to stop looking at Steve all day, chewing on his bottom lip. He watches as Steve reaches down into the folds of the towel on the ground, takes something out, and tosses it to Eddie, and catches it.

“Now what’s this?” Eddie asks. He knows what it is. He knows exactly what it is. It reads, CLASS OF ‘85 under a monogram of HHS.

Steve shrugs. “My class pin. If you want it.” He sounds more nonchalant than Eddie thinks he is, from the blush on his cheeks that he is sure isn’t from the sun. “Thought you might want to put it on your vest.”

[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 13

We are really nearing the end now, this is the chapter I chopped up because it was getting into super long territory and so this chapter has a minor cliffhanger because that was the best place to stop it.

Here we get Jane's backstory and her and Max take Steve shopping.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

~

Janice and Joan looked up at the new girl from behind Eddie’s legs. Robin had been called to bring over some clothes that might fit the gangly, starved teen.

Jane’s head and clothes were covered in lice and other bugs, so the clothing was burned and her hair shaved off. Then she was given a towel and the clothes Robin brought over and told to shower.

Steve made a note to warn Max and Susan about the bathtub. The bottom was coated in a black, almost sludge from the years of living on the street being scrubbed off of her body.

She stepped out of the bathroom and Steve led her to the guest room he had gotten ready for her to sleep in. Then in the morning when she came out of the bedroom, the girls had darted around Eddie to hide from the new person.

The shirt was almost big enough to be a dress and she held tightly to the sweat pants to keep them from falling off, even with the draw strings pulled to the tightest they could go.

Benny had prepared a meal for her of light broths and fluffy rice. Jane polished off the chicken and rice soup in no time at all. The water was parsed to her in small amounts to make she didn’t get sick from drinking too much too fast.

Her haunting blue eyes stared up at them as the three adults pondered what to do with her. She was more than half starved, dehydrated, and scared.

“So what are you going to do with me?” she asked with a glare.

Joan tugged her father’s left pant leg. “Is she sick?” she stage whispered.

Eddie scooped her up and held her close. “No baby doll, she didn’t have anyone take care of her so she had to take of herself. Could you take care of yourself all alone without Daddy, Stevie, Aunt Chrissy or Grandpa Wayne?”

“No Janie either?” Joan asked, her lip starting to quiver and her eyes filled with tears.

“No Janie either,” Eddie confirmed.

Joan shook her head. “I’d need at least Janie because she’s so smart.”

Jane smiled a small ghost of a smile at that.

“Jane these are my daughters, Joan and Janice,” Eddie said scooping up Janice too. “Girls this is Jane. She’ll be staying with us until we can find some place safe for her.”

Jane narrowed her eyes at them suspiciously, but merely clasped her hands between her thighs. Eddie knew that look. She didn’t believe him anymore than he had believed Uncle Wayne when he had said it when he was ten years, cold, scared and badly beaten from the last foster family he had been placed in.

Wayne had said those same words to him and fuck, learning that eventually meant staying with him forever was hard to accept. But he did and now he’s successful and happy.

“Steve would you take the girls to get ready for preschool?” Eddie murmured.

The girls tried to burrow into his neck further, but gently Steve pried both girls off and carried them off to get changed for school.

Jane tilted her head to the side. “Are you two married?”

Eddie squawked and Hopper chuckled.

“He wishes he could bag a man like Steve Harrington,” Hopper huffed and then winked at her to share in his joke.

“Steve’s my live-in nanny,” Eddie told her. “I’ve been living the single life for over a year now and am not really looking for the next Mr. Munson.”

“That’s sad,” she said bluntly. “You’re cute together.”

Eddie nearly choked on his tongue. “Right, let’s talk about you.”

She shrugged as Benny put down another bowl of chicken and rice soup and then stepped outside for a smoke, leaving only Eddie and Hopper with the girl.

She took a bite of the food and concentrated on that while both men sat across from her.

“Do you want Robin to come in and keep you safe?” Eddie asked, leaning forward on the table.

Jane shook her head. “I’m good at two things, screaming and biting.”

Hopper flexed his hand subconsciously as he remember his own experiences in that regard. She grinned up at him.

“Do you know how old you are?” Eddie asked, trying to move this along because his girls needed him right now.

“Not really,” she said shaking her head. “Mama didn’t register my birth with the county so the last best guess was eight.”

Eddie and Hopper stared at each other in shock.

“And just how long ago was eight?” Hopper growled. He copied her earlier move of shoving his hands between his thighs as to not show his frustration at the situation.

Again Jane shrugged. “I’ve been on the run for awhile. I know I had a couple of years with the Brenners and then on the run for about that.”

Eddie turned his head to the side and ran his tongue slowly over his top lip. “And who are the Brenners?” He had a sinking feeling he knew.

“Bad people.” Jane refused to look up from her bowl as she swirled her spoon through the rice causing the chicken to float to the top.

“Shit.”

Jane looked up at Hopper. “That’s a bad word too.”

Hopper huffed out a bitter laugh. “They wouldn’t happen to have been Dr. Martin Brenner and his wife Anne, would it?”

Jane nodded and Hopper let loose a string of swear words that left both Eddie and Jane staring at him wide eyed. Jane in shock, Eddie in awe. There was some words in there he’d never heard before and eagerly wanted to know what they meant.

But privately he agreed with Hopper. Drs. Martin and Anne Brenner had been arrested last year for experimenting on foster children. Unethical drug trials. Especially those whose parents or other family weren’t likely to come looking for them.

Eddie remembered it because weirdly Ethan had sided with the Brenners. Why not use children no one wanted to drug test on? That way real children wouldn’t be harmed in the trials. That really should have been Eddie’s first clue that everything was about to go to shit, but nope. Eddie had ignored it, like he had all the other signs leading up the massive break up.

“Martin’s dead and Anne’s in jail for the rest of her life,” Hopper told the girl fiercely.

Jane’s eyes went wide and then narrowed. “I don’t believe you.” She sat back in her chair with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest and glared at them both.

Eddie pulled out his phone and said, “Hey google, what’s the status on Martin and Anne Brenner?”

“Here’s what I found,” the robotic voice said, “Drs. Martin and Anne Brenner, who were found to be experimenting on the foster children they took in from the state of Indiana, when their house was raided by police, Martin Brenner was shot and killed by police when he tried to make a break for it with all his research on a laptop. Anne Brenner was convicted of several charges including child endangerment, torture, and child abuse. She is currently serving three consecutive life sentences for her role in the scheme.”

Jane’s eyes widened and then got bigger and bigger until they couldn’t anymore. “They’re gone? I’m safe?”

Hopper nodded. “They’re as gone as God can make them.”

The relief just sagged off her like a an ill-fitting garment, even more so than the clothes she was wearing. She seemed to de-age in front of them as well, as years just sloughed off like dead skin. The bags under her seemed to less and her eyes gained back their sparkle.

“I think I can speak for me and Hopper,” Eddie said gently, “but we’ll do everything in power to make sure you don’t go back into the system, not even a little bit. Okay?”

“Absolutely,” Hopper growled. “I’ve got a friend who might be willing to help us out.”

“And I’ll contact my lawyer to see if a judge can’t give one or both of us temporary custody until we can get this sorted.” Eddie stuck out his hand. “Welcome to the family, Jane.”

~

With the combined power of Steve’s knowledge of CPS, Hopper’s child counselor friend, and Eddie’s lawyer, they were able to get temporary guardianship of Jane until Becky Ives could be contacted.

The first thing Steve did when she was placed in his care was introduce her to Max. They had found out that Jane was the same age as the other kids, but a little older and her only friends were people who had helped her on the street.

Max thought she was going to be poaching Lucas from her at first so the initial meeting was a bit terse.

Then when Jane explained she didn’t even know who that was, suddenly Max was her new best friend.

Steve laughed when Max begged for him to take the two of them clothes shopping.

“Why me?” he asked. “Couldn’t your mom take you? Or even Eddie?”

Max rolled her eyes. “Because you’re cool. Eddie’s look is too hard for Jane and my mom is lame, so...” She cocked her head sassily. “No brainer.”

Jane turned her puppy dog eyes on Steve and he folded like a house of cards. He spoke to Eddie, who gave Steve a card to take to help pay for all of the things that Jane would need.

So Steve took them to the mall. That’s all malls were these days, expensive boutiques of different styles of clothes.

The first one was preppy clothes and both Max and Jane got a bunch of clothes to try on and while the poor shop assistant was aghast at all the things that they took in with them, Steve assured her that he would be the one to put everything back.

“The one girl with the shaved head hasn’t never had a chance to figure out her style,” he explained, “so just them have their fun.”

The assistant backed away, but kept a wary eye on the dressing room anyway.

“Anything that doesn’t fit,” Steve called out, “hand them out to me and I’ll take them back.”

Suddenly both hands shot out and Steve laughingly took the garments and started folding them neatly. Then he handed them back to the sales associate, who took them from him with a blink of confusion, but she put them on the stack that she would need to put back on the shelves.

Then Max came out first in a plaid skirt and white blouse. She had put her chunky boots back on and Steve clapped.

“Very nice, Max!” he said brightly. “Love the boots, very chic!”

Jane came out in khakis and a pink polo that she had paired with brown loafers. Max wolf-whistled and Steve applauded.

“I like it!” Steve said. “How do you feel about it?”

Jane turned to him and tilted her head to the side. “I am not sure. I would like to try on more before I decide.”

“Then have at thee!” he cheered waving her back into the dressing room with a laugh. Max turned and followed suit.

They tried on several outfits and Steve paid for everything liked and put back everything they didn’t, then moved on to the next store. He encouraged them to play with styles and mix and match.

By the time they had reached the end of the mall, Steve had already made several trips out to the car and was still ladden with bags as the girls chatted happily with smoothies and mall pretzels.

As they pulled up to the house, Jane tugged on Steve’s sleeve. He turned and looked at her.

She smiled at him, “Thanks for taking us. I had lots of fun.”

“You’re welcome,” Steve said fondly. “Your caseworker is going to be here in an hour so get changed into one of the outfits you bought today.” He turned to Max. “You might have to help her pick something appropriate. I’m trusting you to make good choices because one misstep could spell disaster for everyone.”

Max nodded. Judging from Steve knew about Susan and her history she’d met with caseworkers before and knew what to do.

Again it took several trips even with the girls’ and Eddie’s help. But soon everything was in and put in a guest room until they knew for sure where Jane would be moving to.

~

Part 14 Part 15

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @tartarusknight @gregre369

2- ​@a-little-unsteddie @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach @yesdangerpls @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch

4- @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @ollieolive @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

8- @sadisticaltarts @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dolphincliffs @steddie-as-they-go @steddieislife

9- @kultiras @morallyundefined @themoonagainstmers @fearieshadow @blondie1006

10- @thesecondfate @wheneverfeasible @depressed-freak13 @genderless-spoon @sadiea20

[cherrychilli]

18+

Steve Harrington x AFAB reader, lots of shameless teasing by reader, slight exhibitionism, allusions to sex, teeniest tiniest smidge of perv! Steve

A/N: Inspired by the only scene of Cool Hand Luke I've seen. And that one short scene from Elvira: Mistress of the Dark. Just wanted to write something fun and a lil bit silly.

"C'mon sugar, chop chop - 's not gonna clean itself", he sing songs from the driver's seat of the BMW where he's been toying with the radio, scratchy static fading into a chorus of Scorpions' No one like you when he tunes into a station that suits his liking.

On a regular day a quip like that would have had you pinching one of his triceps, twisting the skin until he crumbled to his knees with a litany of pleas and apologies tumbling past his lips. But today was different because you both knew he was exempted from any retaliation. And boy, was he enjoying it.

Steve had been like this all morning, painfully smug, grin stretched Cheshire cat wide ever since you'd come over to make good on the card game you'd lost the night before.

It began as a casual game of poker over a few beers to make the lazy evening more interesting. You never played for much. The white chips were always worth 25 cents, the reds 50 cents and the greens were a dollar but he had you perking up when he suggested sweetening the pot that night.

"Oh yeah? what do you have in mind?", you'd asked this with subdued interest, munching down another mouthful of sea salt and vinegar chips, half expecting him to float the idea of strip poker as influenced by your viewing of The Wanderers earlier that night.

It wasn't unlike Steve to suggest something like that after he's had a few drinks and it wasn't unlike you to happily go along with whatever he's proposed after you've had a few drinks of your own. The two of you made quite a pair that way.

The last time it was skinny dipping down at Lovers Lake. A shared bottle of Gin bore the blame for the idea but by some miracle of intervention (or was it interruption?) Jim Hopper happened to be cruising by to put a stop to it before things could go any further. Nothing like the fuzz rolling up on you in your underwear to dampen the mood.

But last evening didn't take that kind of a turn and you didn't have to sit there cursing yourself for not having the foresight to wear sexier underwear for very long.

This time you laid blame on the beers and that one swig of sickeningly saccharine Pineapple Schnapps left over from a party the week before for impacting your judgement, agreeing to raise the stakes to include the winner getting to delegate their weekend chores to the loser.

Steve went all in, chips tossed into the middle of his mother's new and perfectly lacquered walnut table, too buzzed and wound up in the competitive tension in the room to worry about accidentally scuffing it.

You considered your cards for a few short seconds, poker face perfectly unreadable. A full house, Queens over Jacks sat burning hot in your hands, making you call, pushing your chips over into the pile with more care than Steve had shown his own.

For a moment, you thought you had it and he let you think as much, his pink lips drooping into a frown with his head bowed, hand carding through his hair to mimic defeat when you slid your cards over.

But the thrill of not having to spend half the day mowing your lawn and weeding the garden was extinguished after three glorious seconds. He placed his cards down quietly though when you read them, the impact felt more like a gavel coming down, sentencing you to a day of doing his bidding.

Four of a kind. Kings.

Shit.

The Schnapps and the beer picked that moment to start sparring in your belly, adding to the bitter flavor of defeat washing over your tongue like an oil spill.

And then came that smirk which hasn't left his lips since. "I'll see you in my driveway tomorrow bright and early, sunshine", he winked at you in that way that had you torn between wanting to flip his mother's stupid table and climbing over it to kiss her stupid smarmy son.

And now here you were, greeted by the same insufferable smirk as you trudged up to his driveway on a Saturday morning to wash his car, hangover thankfully averted and with a fresh outlook on the situation since sobering up. He doesn't know it yet but you're not as sore about the loss as you seem.

Strangely, you had Steve's porno collection to thank for that.

You figured him to be kind of guy who preferred a dirty VHS over the classic skin mag especially now that he had an employee discount to abuse but a few months ago you'd found out that you'd guessed wrong.

You hadn't let on about the time you went looking to borrow a pair of spare socks one nippy evening from one of his drawers and found a busty, definitely not a licensed nurse despite the uniform, smoldering back at you instead.

Unearthing the magazine from beneath the pile of tube socks it'd been partially shoved under, you quietly acquainted yourself with the ladies of Genesis Magazine's Girls/Girls Fall 1987 issue. Recalling one page that had been dog eared, you learned the nurse had friends who liked to get naked and soaked when it came time to hose down their cherry red Chevy Camaro.

Suddenly, having you out in the sweltering heat, working up a sweat and scrubbing down his beamer while he watched didn't seem like innocent happenstance anymore. In fact the whole thing made you feel a little inspired.

So you thought to yourself, why not have a little fun?

Granted, you weren't planning on losing your top and straddling the hood like the redhead on page seven. Not in Steve's white picket fence neighborhood of all places, but you did still have something less than savory in mind.

He didn't even suspect anything when you asked to go change into something more comfortable to hose down his precious car, your jeans already feeling more than a little uncomfortable since you'd left your house in this heat.

Another perfectly cloudless azure sky hung over the neighborhood. Too sunny and muggy and at that hour of the morning where everyone else was still inside. Some slept in because it was Saturday while others slept off their Friday night. Those who were awake were already in their pools or in the kitchen, cracking ice cubes out of trays into big, dewy glasses of lemonade, intermittently sipping and holding the chilly glass up to soothe their sweaty temples.

If the heat bothered Steve he didn't show it, one hand resting on the steering wheel, fingers tapping along to the radio awaiting your return. He'd been looking forward to this all night since his winning hand and nothing could sour his anticipation now.

But he couldn't have anticipated what he saw when he catches sight of you through the rear view mirror, his fingers fumbling, losing his composure quicker than if he'd slipped on ice.

You strolled out like something ripped out of one of his wet dreams, shoes swapped for flip flops, snug denim cut offs replacing your jeans, white tee instead of the teal blue you'd shown up in and hips swaying.

His mouth was agape as you walked up to him. "What are you up to?", he spoke in a voice thick with suspicion, stare heavy and darting all over you like there was too much or you on display and not nearly enough at the same time.

"I'm washing your car like you we agreed. Changed your mind?", you challenged him with a hand on your hip, eyes narrowed into a look as sharp as a knife's edge, daring him to question you again.

"No..."

"Alright then", you eased into a smile, more roguish than your usual chaste, bumping your hip against the driver's side door which up until now had been ajar, closing Steve inside. He lets you do this, something about the new clothes coupled with your 'don't fuck with me' vibe making him feel strangely obedient.

Everything you needed was already left out for you. A bucket, a half full bottle of car wash soap, a sponge and the hose nearby.

You start with the hose first, making sure to bend over to pick it up rather than crouch beside it as you turned it on, legs straight, back arched nice and pretty, ass popped out. You didn't spend that extra fifteen minutes stretching at home for nothing!

It's vastly different from all the other times he's stared at your ass. Used to doing it in sneaky glances in the past, Steve can hardly believe the obvious way you flaunt yourself for him now, afraid if you keep it up he might fog up the windshield all on his own.

Running water spouts out the hose and you're not the least bit careful with how you aim the stream into the bucket to fill it up, splashing your thighs and forearms, the sun making your wet skin glow glossy under its rays.

Number 8 on Billboard's top ten singles of the month starts to play on the radio but it goes unheard by Steve over the sound of his own heartbeat thumping in his ears, watching you wrap your fingers around the thick, cylindrical bottle and squeezing it to squirt soap into the bucket.

It's all so calculated and deliberately dirty, even though you try to play it off all innocent. You even plaster on a faux look of surprise when you stand too close to the BMW to rinse it, water splashing back onto your clothes, denim turning dark, white tee turning transparent...

Steve nearly chokes on the saliva pooling in his mouth when he notices that you're not wearing a bra. No swimsuit or even a bikini on underneath. He tears his eyes away long enough to quickly survey the neighborhood and when he doesn't find any of his neighbors in sight he fixes them back on you.

He should stop you, right?

He shouldn't just sit there and watch, right?

It wouldn't be correct to let you parade yourself in front of him like this...

Right?

Turning off the hose, you grasp the sponge and dunk it into the soapy water, pulling it out all sopping and heavy to wring it out over the bucket, purposely holding it close to your chest so the excess water can cascade down your front.

Nothing could have stolen his attention away from the way your tits jiggle in your soaking, skin tight tee as you lean over and put some elbow grease into running the sponge over the hood of his car in soapy circles. Peeking up through your lashes you catch the way his cheeks blend from a subtle mauve to a pretty fuchsia from behind the windshield, deciding you'd like to get a closer look.

He thinks he might flatline when you saunter closer and lean over the side of the hood. Reaching as far as you can to sponge the windshield, you're certain the poor boy's probably straining against his zipper by now as your wet tits press up against the glass.

It's so obvious and indecent. And fun. Getting to dangle yourself in front of Steve like this so unabashedly out here in the open, sticking a pin in that irritating, albeit harmless, cocksure attitude he'd shown you at the start, watching it deflate with a wicked smile.

It was the sweetest torture, watching your body clad in soaked clothes, skin glistening, the contours of your breasts and nipples so evident now that you might as well be topless.

"Can't fucking take this anymore", you hear him mutter when he reaches his limit and exits the car, hand finding your waist to spin you around. He uses the other to snatch the soapy sponge out of your fingers and toss it out of sight, letting it land with a wet plop on the driveway.

"I'm taking you inside", he groans when you lean into him, wet tits pressing against his chest, turning the front of his blue polo a dark navy, thigh grazing his bulge.

"Why?" you ask all coy, not ready to retire the innocent act without batting your lashes at him first, your lips only a breath apart from his.

"Because I don't think they'd let me live here anymore if they came outside and found me bending you over the hood, darling", he replies, a second before his lips come down on yours.

[toxhopper]

trio of faggotry

[welldigger62]

Harvesting next door -

The corn field next to me is being harvested today. Here are some pics of the action. Starting out the combine came in first. 👇

Then there was room for the wagon and the big truck. 👇

The combine chops away at the corn stalks, separating the kernels from everything else. 👇

The debris comes out the rear at what looks like a tab sticking out of the lower back. There is a rotating paddle there that flings it all over the place. You can see the cloud of debris up in the first picture.

The tractor/wagon combo has the ability to run along side of the combine while running so the combine can offload on the fly. Above 👆you can see the wagon offloading into the truck. The hopper on the combine is also full and the corn is visible at the top.

The last shot is when the guys were taking a break. This is a John Deere combine.

Happy Wednesday guys 😃

[morganbritton132]

Where Hopper spent a not-insignificant amount of Steve’s childhood feeling guilty about that whole situation, and Eddie spent every summer terrorizing a small town, the only time Hopper ever had to deal with Nancy Wheeler was because she got a part of her body stuck in something.

Hand stuck in a storm drain. Foot stuck in a gopher hole. Arm stuck in a drain at the pool. Head stuck between bars on the playground. Twice.

“One day,” Hopper tells her, waiting around for the fire department to show up. “They’re just gonna cut it off.”

“They’re going to cut off my head?”

“Yep.”

“That will kill me,” She says. “You’re not allowed to do that.”

“I know a lawyer!” Steve says, ducking out from under the platform that Nancy is stuck on. “He can help you sue the police for chopping off your head.”

Steve stands on his tip-toes to hand her a business card for Richard C Harrington, Attorney at Law.

Nancy takes it, “Thank you.”