#it's only sold in one store locally and that store is in the next town over so I'm going to get like three jars of it

[tj-crochets]

Hi TJ! Sorry if I’m just missing it somehow, but where are you posting your patterns now? With the polls you’ve been doing I’ve been getting pretty excited, but then I realized I didn’t know where to look for them when you were done?

Hi! I'm posting them here on tumblr, it's just been a few weeks since my last one. I did the polls, got super excited to share more patterns, then two of my coworkers ended up in the hospital for reasons that, as far as I know, are not work related and work has been stressful enough ever since that I haven't gotten around the sharing more patterns yet. Maybe this weekend though? I share each pattern as an individual post, usually as a reblog to the post with the pictures of the finished plushie. Then I update this post, which has all links to all the sewing patterns I've shared so far, so if you see that post floating around it's worth clicking through to the original post to see if I've updated it since whichever reblog chain you see gained traction

[heartthrobin]

amuse and romance me like you do

steve harrington x female!reader

wc: 12k

warnings: some swearing, idiots in love, jealous!Steve, slow burn(ish), they’re so in love it’s gross, neighbor!reader, Dustin Henderson being a little shit

an: i wrote this a while ago but i’m v proud of it :)

summary: you wanted to bring your videos back on time, you really did, but somehow the threat of a fine was worth it to see Steve Harrington's amused frown when you waltzed in late. besides, he was more than welcome to start fining you - but that meant he'd miss the feeling of how his body turned to goo when you gave him that little smirk, knowing you'd gotten away with it once again.

Summer in Hawkins was near unbeatable. The mornings were scorching, enough that the local pool was packed to capacity with screaming kids and nonchalant parents lounging close by - but by evening: Hawkins would cool to a warm breeze up over the roofs of suburbia.

It was almost six on one such balmy Thursday night, the wind slipping in through the open window as your mom's Toyota sped down the longest strip of road leading almost to the edge of town.

You loved Thursdays. Mondays and Thursday, actually.

They were the two nights you didn't work the evening shift and consequently the two nights Claudia Henderson attended bingo nights down at the diner on Maple.

She'd called you up, as she did every Monday and Thursday, just before five.

“Oh dear, won't you come watch Dusty Bun for the night? Just for a couple hours, I won't be late.”

She always was, but that didn't matter.

The Henderson's had lived next door for almost eight years, since Dustin was no taller than your knee.

"Of course Ms Henderson, I'll be there by six."

You'd agreed, like you did the week before and the week before that. You and Dustin were slowly making your way through the slasher horror section of the video store, promising to never mention it to his mother who would undoubtedly collapse in shock at the notion.

It's how you found yourself pulling with a loud screech and a lurch into the open parking spot right in front of Family Video.

The center parking lot was empty, spare for a red truck near the back of the lot that you were sure had been parked there for weeks.

There was a video store closer to your neighborhood, Mr Video, but going to find your flicks there would rob you of the opportunity to see Steve Harrington's exasperated expression when you slammed the video against the counter late, again.

You sold the bit by complaining that there wasn't as big a selection at Mr Video when anybody ever asked.

The copy you'd rented on Monday afternoon stared up at you from the passenger seat. A Nightmare on Elm Street: Freddy's Revenge.You grinned at it.

"Store policy, you need to bring the video back 48 hours after renting."

You were pushing it on hour 76.

Unfazed, and stomach sloshing with warm, soft excitement for your biweekly encounter with your favourite head of hair in Hawkins, you grabbed the movie off the seat and slid out the car.

The front door jingled behind you, alerting not only the woman standing in the sci-fi section near the window, but also the man behind the counter.

Steve looked up from where he was flipping through a three-month old TV guide, looking painfully bored.

When his eyes met yours, they flickered between expressions quickly before settling on unimpressed.

He leaned to push himself off the counter, glancing dramatically down at the watch over his wrist.

"Punctual, as always."

A grin slid over your lips, using the case of the movie in your hand to fan at the threads of sweat tickling down the side of your neck.

"Listen, I've got a real reason for bringing it late this time—"

He didn't offer you the chance to finish what you both knew was a lie. "And I'd love to hear it if I knew it wasn't bullshit."

You placed the video down onto the counter sliding it over to him, trying to look as nonchalant as possible while quietly soaking in the light freckles speckled over the bridge of his nose.

"What can I say, you know me too well, Harrington."

As was the curse of Hawkins High, you never knew Steve in your time there despite being the same age. He ruled blindly in his kingdom as King Steve while you gravitated in the outer-lying fields of friendship. It wasn't until his maroon BMW started to frequent the driveway between your place and the Henderson's that you were reminded - or in Steve's case, made aware of - each other's existence.

"A good thing too. I didn't have much of an idea where I was gonna go with that story anyways."

He rolled his eyes, but the curl of amusement at the edges of his lips was impossible to miss. A lick of pride bit at your beating heart.

"Right." He grabbed the video from the counter, dropping it into an unseen bin by his feet. "What're you and the little twerp watching tonight?"

Your chin fell into your hands, glancing over his shoulder at the Horror Section near the back of the store, not entirely ready to leave the desk for a proper look and risk losing the light waft of the Dior cologne drifting from over the countertop.

"We've finished the Elm Street stuff ..." you huffed, squinting to read the label off another bloody cover. "Sledgehammer?"

His nose crinkled at you, "Don't. It's shit."

Lifting your face from your hands, your head tilted up to meet his eyes. "Any suggestions then, Scorsese?"

A funny expression ghosted over his face and you watched as his bottom lip was sucked in between his teeth. You almost frowned.

"Well, uh," He fidgeted with a drawer behind the desk, "A new one came in this week, I thought you guys might—might like it so I held onto it for you."

His hand emerged with a blue and red cover on a video, setting it into the space between you - shrugging as far from nonchalantly as you'd ever seen from Steve Harrington.

Was he nervous?

Your hand closed over the copy and you tried to hide how your heart lurched when your fingers brushed over his.

"Slaughter High?" You eyed it, glancing periodically up between the cover and Steve's slowly but surely reddening face.

"I thought y—Dustin might like it."

He was right. It looked like the exact ratio of gore to cheesy plot-line that Dustin adored, that you mostly watched from behind your hands.

"Saving movies for us? This feels like a desperate attempt at gaining an invite to the exclusive Henderson Movie Night." You pressed lightly, watching as Steve's mood dissolved again into Mr Charisma.

"Please," he rolled his eyes, "if I wanted to be there I would. Besides, it takes only one little phone call to good old Claudia to end this whole little horror-fest of yours."

You gasped theatrically, pulling the film up to your chest, "you wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

Setting your hands back on the counter you giggled softly, "You blackmail all the girls that come in here or is it just the pretty ones?"

Steve's cheeks rung red again, you loved the shade on him.

"Just the pretty ones." It was accompanied by that smile you were sure could win Nobel prizes.

A tight pang echoed in your chest.

It was easy to tease him, to pretend for even a minute that maybe he could look at you with the same fondness that forced your eyes over the smile at the corners of his mouth, or the rogue strands of hair that stuck to his forehead in the Indiana heat.

What wasn't quite as easy was forcing aside the nauseous gurgle in your stomach when you noticed how the prettiest girls from every corner of the state would come to lean over the Family Video countertop just as you were doing now, pop their bubblegum in his face and send their cherry lipgloss smiles just to melt him all over.

They were his type, of course.

King Steve had always loved the princesses.

The AC unit wheezed loudly somewhere behind you, forcing you back to where you stood.

Steve was watching you carefully.

You couldn't help noticed how close your hands rested by his on the desk. If you just stretched out your index finger, his would be in yours. You pulled them back slowly, grabbing the movie as you did.

"It looks good," you smiled, motioning to the movie. "I'm sure Dustin's gonna love it."

Steve nodded slowly, "Great. Don't forget to bring—"

But you had already turned on him, half a foot out the door and laughing loudly over your shoulder, "To bring it back on time, yeah yeah I will!"

The door shut loudly, the jingle of the bell against the hinge echoing in the space you'd left. He sighed loudly, forehead coming down against the counter.

"You're pathetic, you know that right?" Robin's voice washed over him from where she had no doubt been lurking in the staff room, following the interaction with her ear against the door.

Not lifting his head, but rather shifting it to offer her a side eye, he groaned: "thanks for the vote of confidence, Robs."

The smell of burnt popcorn hit your senses like a truck when you pulled the door open to the Henderson household. You coughed against your elbow.

"Dustin!"

The teen peeked his head into the hallway from the kitchen, smiling sheepishly. "Hey, I'm just ... sorting out the snacks."

You gave him a sharp look before tossing the video onto the couch, "If you burn down the house your mom is never gonna let me come by here again, you know that right?"

"Yeah, yeah stop being dramatic." He called from the kitchen as you flopped back against the couch. Your eyes found purchase on the blank yellow wall above the television.

The image of Steve in that cute little Family Video vest swirled around in your brain and you were suddenly plagued by the question of how he tasted. Those puffy pink lips, when they twisted into an amused frown. You were sure his kiss would be minty, or maybe sweet from the Twizzlers that were constantly in his hands—

"What you get?" You jumped when Dustin fell into the spot beside you, a tub of nearly black popcorn in his lap.

You eyed it wearily, slowly picking up the video and flashing it in his line of vision.

The teen grabbed it greedily, almost tipping the tub over his knees, raking over the cover. "Hey! This is brand new, I heard Lucas saying that people threw up in the cinema because it's so scary."

He turned to you, "How did you get it? Everyone's gonna want their hands on this."

"It was Steve actually." You leaned over him to reach the packet of Skittles he'd discarded by the arm of the couch, ripping it open. "When I got there he said he'd held it for us, that you'd like it."

Dustin's eyebrows tightened, "That's weird."

"I think it was sweet of him." You sunk further back in the couch, trying not to look too dreamy eyed when Dustin's curious gaze worked over you.

"Ew."

You punched him lightly in the shoulder, laughing. "It's not like that dipstick."

The growing darkness allowed for the disguise of your reddening cheeks.

"Now go put in the movie before I make us watch Golden Girls."

Dustin stood to slot the video into the machine, the television lighting up.

It carried on like that for weeks, well into July and past the end of the Summer break for the high schoolers.

Family Video wasn't as busy as it was with the kids back at school, the hours dragged between shifts with seemingly endless rounds of Crazy Eights and rewatches of whatever romantic 60's flick Robin had chosen that week.

But come Monday or Thursday, Steve would linger excitedly near the counter. Robin would tease him, "you need to pluck up the balls and just ask her out".

He'd roll his eyes at her.

"I've told you, it's not that easy."

It wasn't.

Girls came in every day, leaning indulgently over the counter with smiles to pursue him - and he loved it, don't get him wrong - but somehow twice a week you'd skip into the shop with that grin that made his words fold over each other and his heart feel like it was beating from his throat and he couldn't remember the names of a single one of the others who'd slid their numbers flirtatiously across the desk.

He wasn't sure he was ready for the destruction your rejection would subject him to.

So around five o' clock every Monday and Thursday, when your beat up Toyota screeched into the parking spot in front of the shop, he'd beg Robin to keep her mouth shut for just five minutes and she'd shrug, grinning like the cat who caught the canary before mumbling, "Whatever you say, Casanova."

The door would jingle and you'd come bouncing in with your tank tops and denim shorts or sometimes with a skirt flirting at the tops of your thighs - the image of which would keep Steve up at night - and you'd lean over the counter with the overdue video in your hand.

Except one day you're pushing the door open with your hip, cradling a suspicious pink box, with the video balancing on top.

Steve perked up, tossing aside the Rubik's cube he'd been pretending to be busy with in the moments between you parking the car and stepping into the shop.

You slid the video across the desk at him. The Hills Have Eyes.

"Hi." You grinned before peering over his shoulder, "Hey Robin."

Robin glanced back from where she was restocking the snack shelf. "Hey."

"You know I'm gonna have to start charging you late fees for these eventually, right?" He picked up the video, no substance to his threat at all.

"I know, I know. That's why—" you set the pink box carefully up on the counter, "I've brought a peace offering."

Steve's eyes met yours, eyebrow pinching in confusion. "What is it?"

You rolled your eyes and Steve couldn't help notice the length of your eyelashes, how they fanned at your cheeks: "Well there's only one way to find out, smarty pants."

He lifted the lid of the box, allowing the sugary sweet scent to fill his lungs. Five pink and white donuts stared brightly up at him.

His eyes widened in delight and a warmth flooded his stomach at the thought of you going out to buy pastries just for him.

Steve's silence seemed to make you nervous, because you began speaking quickly into the space: "They're from the Yellow Piglet, you know the diner on Maple? They're really good, I didn't know if you guys were allergic or—"

"No, no." He cut you off, feeling his cheeks warming. "They look delicious."

Robin had apparently heard the commotion, or perhaps sensed the arrival of food - Steve always had a suspicion that her nose was too good to be human - and appeared at his side.

"Donuts!" She beamed, "For us?"

You laughed. "Yep, both of you look like you're not being fed at home. Thought I might thicken you up."

Maybe it was his imagination, but Steve swore he felt your eyes warm over his biceps after you spoke. His eyes flickered unintentionally to your hips, unable to stop himself from wondering if it was the donuts that helped you fill out the sides of those shorts so nicely.

Robin grabbed a pink one out the box, diving into it before moaning around the mouthful - crumbs dripping over her vest.

"This is the best thing that's ever happened to us at work."

She held it up to Steve, offering him a bite. He shook his head, but didn't miss how your gaze flickered between him and his colleague during the small interaction. Your shoulders deflated slightly and his stomach sank.

You coughed awkwardly, avoiding meeting his eyes again, "I'm glad you like them. I think they're worth at least another month's worth of late returns."

"A month? That's a bit generous isn't it?"

"Taste one and you'll change your mind, Harrington. I tried one in the car on the way here, couldn't resist."

His eyes found the two white sprinkles at the edge of your lips, evidence of your indulgence, and fleetingly wished he could suck them off.

Instead, he pulled out a heavily iced donut from the box and bit tentatively into it. Fuck. It really was good.

He tried to catch his sigh before it escaped him, he wasn't quick enough, but the amused smirk you sent him over the table was enough compensation for him to forget it.

"Fine," he mumbled around a mouthful. "A month."

"Great." You skipped past the desk over to the horror section, reaching up to the top shelf to grab The Hills Have Eyes II, while Steve's mouth watered around the donut over the stretch of thigh that peeked out from under your shorts as you reached. Allowing him to commit the image of the deep fold between your ass and thigh to memory.

That was before Robin dug her elbow into his side, meeting him with a stern look that said "you're being a fucking creep".

Before he could retort, you were back at the desk, flashing the cover at him. "I'll take this one."

He quickly typed in the name and you were on your way again, only the jingle of the door left behind and the light whiff of your perfume to plague Steve for the rest of the day.

Robin bumped his shoulder, starting on her second donut, "That one's a keeper, Harrington."

He couldn't help agree.

Besides Mondays and Thursdays, Steve also loved Saturdays. It was his one off day a week, also the day he'd take Dustin down to the Frozen Frenzy and buy him a tub of frozen yoghurt, allowing him to practically overfill the cup with toppings.

They'd drive from there to the park close to the Harrington household where they'd sit in Steve's car and he'd listen to Dustin ramble about how he hated his maths teacher or how Suzie was teaching him how to code on the computer while he sipped on a strawberry milkshake.

He was listening mostly attentively, eyes trained on the squirrel running up the side of a tree a few feet from the car, but perked up at the mention of your name.

"—she said there's a horror festival in Indianapolis in October and that we could go if I wanted. The guy who played Jason in Friday the 13th is apparently gonna be there."

Steve nodded as solemnly as he could manage, looking at the side of Dustin's face now.

"And... and you guys have fun together?"

Dustin scooped another mouthful of caramel yoghurt and sour worms into his mouth, nodding. "Yeah. She's the best: let's me stay up as late as I want, drives me wherever I wanna go. And she's funny."

Pulling out the straw to mix the remnants of milkshake at the bottom of his cup, Steve nodded again - trying to look casual when he opened his mouth again.

"Does she ever ... y'know, ask about me?"

Dustin's head whipped towards him. "Why?"

"What do you mean why, Henderson. She's ... she's cute I like her."

The curly hair atop Dustin's head trembled as he shook it, muttering vehemently "Oh no, no, no, you're not going for her."

"Why not!" Steve twisted in his seat to face the fifteen year old, "I treat girls well."

"Yeah," he scoffed, "for two and a half dates before you stop taking their calls. All you're gonna do is lead her on and then upset her when you get bored."

Steve's jaw slackened, taken aback by Dustin's scathing, yet mostly honest, review. "Jesus, tell me what you really think Henderson."

"Am I wrong?"

The straw of his milkshake became suddenly interesting again and Steve began to fiddle with it. "No, I mean not entirely, but I ... I wouldn't do that to her."

He could feel Dustin's heated gaze against the side of his neck, "I don't believe that."

"Listen, I ... I really like her, okay? I think she's cool." God, he never sounded this damn pathetic in high school. When did all of this get so difficult? "Just tell me, does she ever mention me?"

Dustin hesitated, "I don't know ... I guess she talks about you when she comes back from getting the movie every week. She said you're sweet."

Steve grinned, a familiar wave of confidence washing over him. "She thinks I'm sweet?"

"That's what I said."

He leaned back against the headrest, bringing his milkshake to slurp at it noisily. "Sweet. I can work with sweet."

That very same night, all the way across Hawkins: you were on the way back from work when your hand-me-down ride pulled to a spluttering stop just a couple miles from home.

Smoke billowed from underneath the hood and you knew better than to go prying beneath it.

After ten minutes of kicking furiously at the wheel and wiping away angry tears, you elected to walk half a mile to the nearest public phone, dropping in a quarter to ring up the mechanic two streets down from your neighborhood.

You didn't wait long. By the time you'd reached your car again and slid back into the driver's seat, turning up the evening radio, a tall white pick up truck pulled to a stop beside you.

Not that you'd been entirely sure what to expect of the man to step out the car, but you almost choked on thin air when the beast of a man climbed from the truck.

"Hi, I'm Ralph," he stuck a large, black-stained paw at you and you took it clumsily. "You must be ..."

You nodded, too embarrassed to attempt words just yet.

Ralph was tall, ginormous actually. He towered over you with big meaty shoulders covered in colorful ink and a thickset beard that wrapped over the borders of his face before dipping into the edges of the long mane of hair atop his head.

He smiled, with a brilliant white set of teeth too, before moving to work. He attached your pathetic car to the truck before offering you a lift home.

The car ride was short but Ralph was endearing, he asked what you did and sounded interested when you mentioned your job at the record store, you asked about his work as a mechanic and he laughed heartily at your dizzy attempts at jokes.

When the truck pulled to a park outside your house, he promised it would be sorted before Monday.

You thanked him, batting your eyelashes maybe a little heavily and offering a soft brush at his arm before beginning to move out the car.

He stopped you before the door shut, "Listen, I'd love to take you out sometime if you'd like. Maybe after you pick up the car, Monday night?"

Your eyes glossed dreamily, was this giant piece of smoking man meat really asking you out?

Wait.

Monday night?

Steve's freckled cheeks came sharply into the view of your mind's eye.

You couldn't do Monday, not when it's the only time you get to visit him—

The image of Steve was replaced by the gum popping, cherry lipgloss wearing blonde you'd seen him leave the local cinema with only a couple months ago.

Your stomach twisted nastily, but you fixed your face before Ralph could pick up on the inner turmoil.

"I'd love to."

Monday came quickly. Steve had spent the better part of the weekend working over what he was going to say when you came into the store. He picked out his favourite blue polo and spent an extra twenty minutes on his hair. He even slid a pack of gum into his pocket.

Robin teased and picked at him, but seemed glad at the prospect of a final end to all his pining.

"Thank god, maybe I can get a break from those pathetic googly eyes you have whenever she comes in here."

Nervousness ate at Steve all day, he tried to busy himself with packing away returns or alphabetizing the customers names on the computer but as the minutes ticked closer to five, he could feel the buzz on the surface of his skin.

"I don't know why I'm so worried about this." He muttered irritably over his shoulder at Robin who was sitting rewinding tapes on the floor, "I've asked out a thousand girls. Those all mostly went well."

"Yeah but you've never been scared that one of them was gonna say no."

Steve's knuckles tapped agitatedly at the counter. "Right. Whatever, but she's not gonna say no. I'm gonna woo her."

"Woo her?"

"Woo her."

As slowly as dripping honey, five o' clock arrived. Steve's eyes flickered between the door and the clock.

And just as slowly, it disappeared again.

Five. Half past. Ten to. Six thirty.

You'd never been this late. Twice a week for going on three or so months, at around five pm you'd step into Family Video. Into the view of Steve's googly eyes and churning stomach.

The sun was beginning to set over Hawkins, basking the little video store in an orange light that only served to make the yellow painted walls seem brighter.

Steve could feel Robin's little sympathetic glances at him from the back of the store and they were making his hair stand on end.

He chewed his bottom lip carefully, but there wasn't a rumble of even a single engine on the one road into the center.

After another ten minutes of tapping the counter loudly, he huffed and pulled the phone closer to him from down the desk. He slipped his wallet out from his back pocket where he kept a small list of important numbers, a list he'd been hoping to add yours to by the end of the day, and dialed up the number for the Henderson Household.

The phone rang six times before a resounding click echoed over the line and Dustin's unmistakable voice streamed through.

"Hello?"

"Dustin, it's Steve."

He could feel Robin's gaze on the back of his neck: "Oh. Hey Steve, what's up?"

"Listen, is— are you guys not having movie night tonight, because—"

"Oh, no we're not ... uhm, she's not here."

Something twisted nastily in Steve's stomach.

"What do you mean she's not there? Where is she?"

Robin approached him from behind, leaning up against the other side of the phone to try catch the snippets of conversation.

"She went out on a date, said I could stay home alone as long as I didn't tell my mom—"

"A-A date?" Steve choked and Robin gasped beside him, "a date!" she mouthed.

Steve could feel blood rushing to his brain and suddenly his fingertips were ice cold, the phone trembled for a second in his hand.

"Yeah."

He ran a tight hand through his hair, ruining in seconds the hairdo he'd spent almost an hour on that morning. He struggled for a words, "A date with who? How could you let her go on a date—!"

"She said it was a mechanic from I don't know, and what do you mean how could I? You didn't ask her out so what was I supposed to do!"

Steve barely registered the commiserative pat against his shoulder.

"Did she says what time she'll be back?"

"She's my babysitter, not the other way around. I don't know."

Steve sighed, dropping his forehead into his palm and pressing tightly against the sides of his forehead. "Thanks dipshit. Do you know what time they left?"

"Uh ... a big white pickup was parked outside at like three. I saw her get inside."

The tick of the clock pulled Steve's gaze towards it. Quarter past seven. Their shift ended at seven thirty.

"I'm coming over, I'll be there in twenty minutes."

The phone slammed back against the dial before Dustin could respond. He turned to Robin, who's eyes were wide in unease: like Steve was a wild animal that could attack at any moment.

"Come let's pack the last of this shit away, we're going to Dustin's."

The last of the videos were packed haphazardly onto the shelves, Robin wasn't even sure they were in alphabetical order and didn't dare mention when Steve put Sixteen Candles on the Sci-Fi shelf.

Within ten minutes she was thrown into the passenger seat of his BMW and Steve was screeching down Kilney Road towards Dustin's neighborhood.

It was dark by the time they pulled up. Steve marched up the driveway, barely attempting a knock before throwing the door open. Dustin leapt up from the couch where he'd been lazily channel surfing, the half finished pizza he'd bought with the money you'd left him sitting on the table.

Steve situated himself at the kitchen window, the one over the stove that looked directly onto your front yard.

"Steve, she could be still another couple hours." Dustin pressed, really just wanting to go lay back down on the couch.

"If she comes home at all." Robin quipped. It earned her a hard, hot glare.

"Jeez." She mumbled.

Dustin turned to look up at her, "I didn't know he liked her that much." He whispered.

"God, you have no idea," she sighed, "it's like watching a kicked puppy every time she leaves the store."

After a short-lived and futile attempt at consoling Steve to at least come sit on the couch, Dustin and Robin fell in front of the television.

The teen put on one of his old copy of The Fox and The Hound and Robin picked at the pepperoni on his forgotten pizza.

Steve sulked by the window. He periodically called back self-pitying remarks at them like "you could've at least told me you know, before I called!" every twenty or so minutes.

They generally ignored him.

"You think she'd make me a bridesmaid?" Robin asked Dustin offhandedly.

He shrugged, "She's cool. I'm sure if you asked nicely."

"Sweet."

The movie was drawing to a close near nine thirty - they could tell Steve had been watching from the doorframe of the kitchen when he gasped at the Fox being caught, but they didn't mention it - when the rumble of a truck echoed down the street outside the house.

"Henderson!"

Dustin and Robin perked up, leaping off the couch and skidding towards the kitchen where Steve was practically crawling over the stovetop.

A dirty white truck pulled up into the driveway outside your house before stilling.

"That's the one." Dustin whispered, leaning to turn off the kitchen light and avoid being spotted.

Steve was biting furiously at the insides of his cheeks, his eyes trained on the car.

The windows were tinted and despite the engine being off, there was no movement from the car. The lack of a visual was setting Steve on edge.

"You think they're making out?" Robin mumbled.

Steve didn't even look when he pinched her hard in the arm.

"Ow!"

"Hey, hey, look!" Dustin's forehead pressed against the window, forming round circles of mist against the glass.

The truck was big, but absolutely nothing compared to the man that stepped out of it.

"Holy shit."

Steve swore he felt the ground tremble when the man stepped out the car onto the pavement, tall as a house with enough muscles to rip down a billboard.

"What the fuck—" He squeaked.

The man was rounding the car, obviously to open your door. Oh, and he has manners too. Asshole, Steve though bitterly.

"He's fucking huge!" He turned to Robin, "How am I supposed to compete with Goliath!"

She spluttered, "I—"

"Look, there she is." Dustin was pressing a greasy finger to the glass.

Steve looked and almost wished he hadn't.

You walked beside the mountain man, smiling up at him in the prettiest little sundress Steve had ever seen. His knees buckled beneath him. It was short, hiding just the tops of your thighs, and covered in a green flower print that reached down to your wrists.

"Woah, she looks really pretty."

A heavy wave of self-pity sloshed around in the pit of his stomach, almost forcing up his lunch.

You looked pretty every day, beautiful, but the thought of you dressing up in a tiny little dress and the black eyeliner that he could make out all the across the yard for another man in a way he wished you would do for him was about to make him sick.

He'd probably dream about that dress for the next hundred nights. Maybe you had others, in different colours.

God knows what he'd do to you in one of them.

After the date he'd dreamed of taking you on, in the driver's seat of his car. He'd kiss you the way a girl as mettlesome as you is meant to be kissed, maybe pull you into his lap and run his hands all the way up those massive thighs, up past the edge of that dress—

"I don't know what to tell you Harrington. This isn't looking good for you, pal." Robin pulled him sharply out of his fantasies.

You and the mechanic neared your doorstep. Steve's heart clenched tightly in his chest. This would be around the time he himself would try for at least a soft peck.

"It's make or break now." Dustin whispered.

The pair stopped, your hand on the door as you looked up to meet the massive man's face.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath when he leaned his hairy face down closer to your level and thought he might faint when you pressed up onto your tippy toes to leave a kiss on his—

"Cheek!" Dustin yelped happily, "She kissed him on the cheek, that's good!"

Steve let out a long breath, a fraction of warm relief dripping into his bloodstream.

"Yeah, a cheek kiss is good." Robin nodded, arms supporting her against the stone countertop. "If she really liked him she would've kissed him properly."

Steve knew that Robin maybe wasn't the best person to offer any accurate commentary on a heterosexual encounter such as this, but he was too busy clinging to any sense of hope to bother mentioning it.

When he looked up again, the man was heading back towards his car and you'd already disappeared into the house. The three of them watched as the living room light flickered on in the distance.

Steve slid off the counter, dragging his feet towards the couch before falling back onto it - as if he'd just completed a half marathon.

Robin and Dustin squished in beside him.

"There's hope." Dustin said.

"Definitely hope." Robin concurred.

"Hope? Did you just see the same man I did? How am I supposed to compete with ..." he motioned vaguely over his shoulder, "he looks like a gladiator!"

"You just have to ask her out before their next date, if she even wants one!" Robin consoled, leaning over to begin picking at the abandoned pizza again.

"Yeah, he just took her on a date, he didn't propose to her. There's plenty of time."

Steve nodded slowly, allowing their wisdom to sink in - trying to ignore the fact that he was taking advice from a teen boy who's girlfriend lived across the country. "You're right ... there is hope."

An idea began to sink into his pretty little head.

The two on either side of him sighed gratefully. Dustin picked up the remote again, pressing play on the movie.

"Great. Now let's finish—"

"Invite me to your movie night." Steve turned to face Dustin, hands meeting the boy's shoulders.

"W-What?"

"Yeah, it's perfect! You invite me, I come over, then you make some excuse and then buzz off to Lucas' or something."

Robin looked affronted, cheeks full of dough, "We have work?"

"I'll call in sick." He waved vaguely at her. "Dealing with Keith is the least of my problems. Dustin?"

The teen's face twisted in consideration, "I... don't know how I feel about pawning my neighbor off on you."

"Come on, please?" Steve's tone dripped in sincerity, "I'll treat her well, I swear."

Dustin sucked in a breath, "Fine—"

All three of them jumped when the ring of the phone against the wall split into the room between them.

"That's probably her." Dustin remarked, climbing up off the couch again and quickly peeling the phone off the dial. "Hello?"

You sighed against the line, grateful that the poor boy was still alive.

"Dusty Bun," you teased, tugging unconsciously at the chain around your neck. "did you survive the night without me?"

He laughed a little against the line, "Yep. Everything is fine."

You smiled, a little bit sad that you'd missed out on your night with your favourite boy. "Hopefully not too fine, or I'll be out of a job."

"Right, sorry. What I meant to say was that it was barely survivable. You'll be here on Thursday, though, right?"

Leaning against the wall you nodded before remembering that he couldn't see you, "Of course. We need to finish Psycho."

Glancing out the window from your living room, you noticed the kitchen light off at the Henderson's. You plucked at the edge of your dress, the question scalding your tongue:

"Dustin, is Steve there?"

You'd recognize that maroon BMW anywhere, seen it already as Ralph pulled into your driveway.

You suspect that it was the reason you ducked to kiss his cheek when he was obviously intent on your lips.

"No!" Dustin choked against the other side of the line, "He's not—"

There was a scuffle on his side and you couldn't help grin, hushed voices echoed in the background and the phone rustled against what you could only assume was Dustin's shirt.

"Well, his car is parked in front of your house—"

"I mean yes." The boy's voice cut through the line again, "Steve and Robin are here, they came to check on me."

An uneasy feeling settled in your chest. Had Steve seen you and Ralph?

You shook the thought off firmly. Good, you hoped he saw you.

A part of you wanted to march over to Dustin's, to step in there looking as good as you did tonight. After you put effort into your hair and makeup, dressing a little bit up for the evening, and maybe parade a little bit in front of Steve but you knew it was only going to hurt the progress you'd made by accepting Ralph's date in the first place.

Steve Harrington was the King of Women in Hawkins and if he could have his pick of the princesses, you knew he wouldn't pick you.

You'd feel nothing less than sick to your stomach and end up crying into your pillow if you went in there and Steve didn't bat an eyelash in your direction.

"Okay good. Well then I don't need to come check on you, right? You should be heading to bed soon, there's school in the morning."

"Uhm, yeah I'll be fine—" He cut himself off with a groan, like he'd been hit. There was hushed murmurings before he returned to the line. "So, how was the date?"

Your mind flickered back over the evening, how Ralph came to pick you up, took you to a nice restaurant in town and made good conversation. Made you laugh.

He wasn't Steve, but then again, nobody was.

"It was good. Really good." You sighed against the line, from exhaustion or content you weren't sure. "I think I'm gonna see him again. He said he rides motorbikes, I told him how you said you'd like to try and he mentioned that he could take you for a spin whenever you want?"

"Ah, awesome!"

You giggled, "Yeah, I thought so too. You should get to bed, bud. I'll drop you at school in the morning if you like? To make up for my absence?"

"Sure."

Even biting your lip couldn't help the words that slipped, "Tell Steve I said goodnight. A-and Robin, tell them both."

"Will do. Night."

The phone clicked loudly against the dial and you pushed off the wall, beelining towards the stairs.

You took an extra long shower, hoping that Steve and Robin would leave in the time you were busy so you wouldn't be tempted to watch by the window from your room.

They did.

The shutters blocked the last of the light from the street when you dropped them against the pane, steeping the room in darkness.

You sighed loudly before sliding into bed, pulling a pillow closer to your chest.

The night had been nice, it really had. Ralph was sweet, he was doting and made noises at all the right parts in your stories. Yes, maybe he was a little boring, not many of his interests aligning with yours.

He spoke about cars and motorbikes and you tried to be interested, the fact that he was willing to entertain Dustin was attractive in its own right.

At the end of the night, before you climbed out the car, he'd asked if you wanted to go to a movie on Friday night. You'd agreed.

He wasn't Steve, but he was nice. And for God's sake you wanted to be treated nicely for a little bit. Was it so wrong to just want to be looked after? To hold someone's hand and have a warm body beside you when Winter inevitably crawls over Hawkins?

The thought was enough to let you close your eyes and slip off into sleep, allow you to pretend that Steve Harrington doesn't matter.

The days that followed were good. Ralph rang the next night, just to check up on you, your car was finally cooperating again and your shifts at the store had been as entertaining as they came.

You'd put Steve's existence firmly out of your mind until you pulled into Family Video at nearly five-fifteen on Thursday afternoon.

Hesitance rumbled through you. Your hand wavered on the door handle, but a tugging in your stomach gave away how excited you were to see him again. To be able to tease him over the counter.

Deciding that making it fast was the best course of action, you climbed from your car and slipped quickly through the entrance, the familiar light jingle pooling your chest in warmth.

Robin's big eyes glanced up at you from where she was examining the contents of a packet of gummy bears.

"Hey, you." She grinned.

You couldn't help how your eyes swept over the store, in desperate search of a moussed and quaffed head of brown hair.

"H-Hey Robs." You pulled your attention back to her.

"Well don't look so disappointed, it's just little old me today."

Passing the counter you offered up as genuine a chuckle as you could muster.

"I'm never disappointed when I see you, Robin," you called over your shoulder, glazing over the horror section to find Psycho II on the top right corner. You swore every time you came in looking for a movie it ended up being on the topmost shelf, always needing to ask Steve for help or just embarrassingly reach at it from your tippy toes.

"Where's your partner in crime?" You hoped you came off nonchalant as you turned back towards Robin, sliding the movie over to her.

The amusement dripping from her smirk was slightly unsettling. "Oh, he had other plans tonight. Ditched me."

A sharp sting plunged through your chest. There's only really one reason why he would abandon Robin in the shop alone.

"Let me guess, that little brunette I saw in here last week wooed him into taking her to see Pretty in Pink tonight?" There really wasn't another feasible reason for you to ask, Robin would likely probe and you shouldn't care, but you just had to know.

"Wooed him?" She laughed, taking you by surprise. "God, you guys are made for each other."

Your head nudged to the side, squinting. "W-What?"

She shrugged you off, "Never-mind, but to answer your question: yes, something like that."

Both ideas tugged at each other for the space at the front of your brain. What is Robin talking about? versus So Steve really is out with someone tonight?

Jealousy twisted hotly through your veins, as if you had any right with Ralph coming to fetch you for your second date in less than twenty-four hours.

In the couple seconds you'd been preoccupied by your thoughts, Robin had already rung up the movie - offering it back to you. "Here you go."

You smiled lightly, "Thanks Robin, I'll ... I'll see you around."

She nodded, smirk dripping in mischief. "Have fun with little Dusty Bun."

The drive back to your street was distracted. The thought of Steve making out with a girl in the back-most row of the cinema during the end credits was enough to almost make you miss the red light on the corner of Walnut and Oak.

Your head was so wrapped around your five minute interaction with Robin in the store that when you stopped at Dustin's house, you marched straight past Steve's car without even noting it's presence.

The cool air from the blasting air-conditioner blew straight past you when you opened the door.

"Dustin!" You called into the house, bouncing down the corridor, desperate to put Steve Harrington out of your mind: "Are you ready for Psycho?"

You began making obnoxious gestures, pretending to be stabbed by imaginary knives from different angles in the abdomen and faking loud grunts of pain.

You rounded the corner to where you could make out the curly topped head of your kid neighbor over the back of the couch.

"Oh, Norman, stop—!"

Staring up at you from the very same couch was just the man you'd intended on pretending didn't exist: Steve Harrington.

"Hey," he grinned at you, making to stand. You blinked down at him, lips frozen around your words.

For god sakes, did he have to make everything so hard by looking so fucking good?

His hair looked fluffy, like it had just been washed - not too much hairspray that it stood very tall, but rather so a couple strands were allowed to swoop down to hang over those warm brown eyes that were looking expectantly up at you and a dizzying yellow sweater that made his skin glow.

"Steve," you sighed. "Hi."

Dustin cleared his throat awkwardly, "I... I invited Steve to join our movie night, if that's fine?"

Steve grinned.

It took a couple seconds to process Dustin's response before you considered them playfully, "Sounds like Harrington is slowly working me out of a job here. Should I send in my application to Family Video now or later?"

Sooner or later you'd have to make peace with Steve's company. Ralph or no Ralph, Steve Harrington was high on the roster of Dustin Henderson's favourite people and if you intended on keeping your substitute little brother around, you were going to have to keep your feelings in your back pocket until they slipped quietly out of existence.

"Maybe wait 'till I resign." Steve chided, "I figure by the end of the week I'll be the full-time nanny here. Claudia already adores me."

You tossed the movie at Dustin, scoffing.

"Go put it in before I leave both of you to have your play-date alone. The nerve of you two ..."

He nodded, shifting off the couch towards the player.

A neat pile of snacks was waiting against the coffee table in front of the couch, you couldn't help notice all the favourites you'd usually pick when you stopped past Family Video.

You slid off your shoes before crashing against the edge of the couch, intentionally as far from Steve who had situated himself in the dead centre.

Dustin returned, taking the opposite end of the couch. You observed him curiously, noting the large gaps between each member on the couch - but said nothing on it.

"So this is what you're ditching work for, Harrington?" You mentioned absently, slowly turning Robin's words over in your mind as you reached for a bag of Twizzlers.

Yes, something like that.

"Yep. I couldn't turn down such a prestigious invitation." His hand dug deeper into the Doritos packet, "Wanted to see if you're actually watching the movies I give you, or you just come past to flirt with me."

A hot red blush raced up the sides of your neck over your cheeks, you didn't look at him - instead trying very hard to focus on the loading television screen. You pulled hard at the piece of your candy with your teeth, chewing slowly.

"In your dreams, Steven."

A shrill ring pierced through the room against the hum of the opening credits. Dustin jumped up quickly, "I should get that—"

Behind you, you heard the phone lift off the wall.

"Hello?"

There was quiet, you'd paused the movie while you waited for the call to end - only the loud munching of Steve's Doritos to distract you.

"Really?" Dustin sounded dramatically excited, your eyebrows pinched curiously at him. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be right over. Bye."

The phone was slammed haphazardly back against the wall, you looked at Dustin confused.

"What's happening?"

"It was Lucas, he said his mom just bought him the new Legend of Zelda. That I could come over and try it out."

You glanced slightly sad between him and the television, "What about the movie—?"

"You guys can keep watching. I'll watch it when I get home, I won't be late." Dustin's eyes clouded with an emotion you couldn't quite make out.

But your duty was to babysit him, not imprison him, so you nodded slowly, "O-Okay sure, have fun I guess."

Dustin was out the door quicker than you anticipated. He grabbed his backpack from his room and the door slammed behind him.

"Guess it's just us." The sound of Steve's voice startled you.

You turned to face him, nodding carefully. "Sure ... do you want to keep watching or, if you don't want to I can head—"

"No!" You jumped at the volume, he chuckled nervously and he reached a tentative hand to your arm. "Sorry, I mean, no ... I'd like to keep watching. With you. If you want to."

Starting to laugh, you shrugged at him, "Sure, but I have to warn you that I'm a really bad movie talker. It drives Dustin nuts."

He visibly eased, "I'm sure I can handle it. Robin's the same."

The movie was clicked back on and you chewed on a freshly opened pack of sour worms loudly.

You commented on the most obvious of moments, pleased when Steve giggled at you - also somewhat puzzled because you definitely knew you couldn't be that funny - and recoiled back into the couch when bloody guts would splatter across the screen.

"I mean, how dumb do you have to be!" You yelled obnoxiously at the television, as if the woman on the screen would turn from entering the obviously dangerous house.

"You know she can't hear you, right?"

Settling back against the couch, you huffed. "Whatever. She's going to die anyways."

The sun had long since disappeared out in the street, the neighborhood lit by the street lamps. Dustin must have been gone an hour already because cool evening was creeping in through the floorboards and the hair on your naked calves stood on end. Although, you couldn't entirely contribute that to the temperature when Steve was sitting less than a foot from you.

You side-eyed the tin of Pringles in his lap. "Can I have some?"

"Come get it."

The sentence pierced a hole in your chest and you felt momentarily breathless. Steve's smugness was radiating off of him in waves.

Trying to avoid meeting his face with your blushing one, you shifted over towards him. "Asshole." You mumbled, dipping your hand into the can before focusing back on the television.

"You're welcome." He nudged you with his elbow, making you suddenly aware of how close he was next to you - his thigh pressing hotly against yours.

A slash of metal splashed ruby red blood across the screen and you flinched back against him, giggling. "Dustin's gonna love this."

"Especially when he realizes they've shown boobs twice now."

You dug your index finger into his ribs under where his arms were folded over his chest. "You're so gross."

"Hey!" He winced from your prodding, "Breasts are one of the few great pleasures in life."

You looked back at the screen, pretending to be unbothered. "If you wanted to see boobs, Steve, you could've just asked."

The breath Steve sucked in was loud. A short silence followed it.

"W-What?"

You glanced up at him, working hard to hold down your smirk, "Why so shy, Stevie?"

It was Steve's turn to blush hot red over the bridge of his nose and up to the apples of his cheeks. The laughs slipped broken from your lips, you wheezed in breaths between them.

"I'm—I'm sorry, I'm just joking Harrington." Your head was tilted back again to match his gaze. He was smiling sheepishly.

"Was starting to get my hopes up there, it's not fair to tease people." His attempt at a counter-strike was weak and you brushed it off.

Your giggles softened, holding his gaze. "I'm sorry, but the look on your face was priceless."

Steve didn't reply, but his eyes were holding yours. Suddenly everything except him felt very far away. You'd never seen the spots on his cheeks from this up close before.

"You've got a nice laugh, has anyone ever told you that?" He whispered, as if divulging some secret.

Despite feeling very exposed with Steve's eyes raking over the edges of your face and down the length of your nose, you couldn't look away.

"You're the first."

A warm hand closed over the skin under your right ear and he sighed when your lips just barely brushed over his.

He tilted his head down to pull you against him when a shriek echoed from the television and you jumped back in fright.

Steve's heart sunk. You've got to be fucking kidding me.

You sat back: eyes wide and alternating between him and the screen.

"Uhm, sorry..." Steve coughed awkwardly and you shook your head, avoiding his gaze.

He glared up at the woman on screen as if she could actually feel his irritation towards her, but still felt a swelling pride in his chest that he'd gotten you so close against him, practically in his arms as he'd dreamt for weeks.

Somehow though, he swore he could feel you buzzing against him, that you wanted it as bad as he did.

Now, you were sliding back down to your original spot at the end of the couch - face bright red in the dim light of only the lamp across the room. "No, it's ... it's fine, I'm sorry." You were speaking more to your chest than to him.

The image of Ralph standing on your doorstep appeared in his mind like a blinding vision. How you'd dodged his lips, instead planting a kiss on his cheek.

You'd just done the same to him.

God, when is this movie gonna end ... Thoughts swirled around Steve's head. He folded his arms carefully.

Did this have something to do with the mechanic? Or did he really just stand no chance with the girl that's been plaguing his dreams since the day he met you?

The air between you was thick. Steve let it permeate while the movie played in the background. It brought him small joy to know the woman who'd screamed earlier and crushed his dream, had just been murdered.

You were quiet, but he could still feel your flickering gazes against the side of his face. He wondered if maybe you were reading his thoughts through the side of his head.

Curiosity nagged at him.

"I didn't see you in the store on Monday." He tried carefully, unable to ignore the itch anymore.

A smile curled at your lip and Steve was suddenly glad he decided to speak. You turned to meet his eye, "Did you miss me?"

"Desperately."

Your smirk stuttered, unsure about the honesty of the response. "Well, I skipped babysitting on Monday. I was out ... I-I went on a date."

"Oh, okay. That's ... nice?" Steve tried to sound as if it was the first time he was hearing this information. "I mean, was it? Was it nice?"

You nodded quickly, very quickly.

"It was nice. Very nice, actually. He's taking me to the movies tomorrow night."

Steve's stomach sank. He had less time than he thought. Maybe that's why his mouth began to run faster than his brain.

"You like him then?" He pressed, "Doesn't look much like your type though."

The words settled into the room. Your eyebrows pinched, turning in your seat to look at him. He could already read the questions forming in your head, biting down on the corner his lip and was slowly realizing that he'd said the wrong thing.

"M-my type?" You asked, "I don't— wait, when did you see him? When did you see Ralph?"

Ralph.

Steve stuttered, scrambling for a way to explain his story in a way that made sense without admitting that he'd been spying on them that night. "Robin and I saw him on Monday night, when we ... when we came around."

"So then you knew where I was on Monday? Why did you ask?"

"Oh, I didn't think you would be on a date ... I thought maybe he was a friend or something." The second he saw your face, he knew he'd only made it worse.

"Right, because I don't go on dates. I can't possibly." You seemed to be growing more offended the more you unwrapped his answers. "And my type? Since when do I have a type? What in your opinion is my type, Steve—"

"I don't know!" He was stumbling now, grasping at straws. "You went out with Jackson Gillespie in high school..."

"And what does that mean?"

Your face was red again, but this time you weren't blushing. The twist in your expression was dripping in hurt.

"Well compared to your Ralph they ... they look nothing alike!" Words were slipping from his lips like water through his hands, too fast for him to consider before they're gone. "He looks like you found him in the forest, like ... like a grizzly bear or something!" 

"And who, in your high and mighty opinion, Steve, am I supposed to date?" You guffawed, not a single trace of humor dripping from your tone. "You get to run around with any Ms America lookalike in Hawkins because they're all in love with you, and I'm not allowed to go on one date with a very good looking man who actually shows interest in me!"

"Oh please," he was scoffing now and a little voice at the back of his mind was warning him that he definitely shouldn't be. "As if you don't see how men fall over themselves for you. You skip around town in your cute little skirts and your smart mouth—"

"Like who?" It felt like your eyes were burning a hole through his skull, he'd only just noticed the way your eyes were beginning to well up - fat pools of tears hanging onto your waterline. He felt sick. His tongue stuck immediately to the floor of his mouth. Like me!

"And even if that's true, which it's not, what do you expect me to do? Sit around and wait for them to find the balls to ask me out?"

The room was sweltering.

"Okay, wait—"

But it didn't stop you.

"The only person I was willing to wait for has his pick of any Barbie in the state of Indiana, and it will never be me. But I'm not waiting anymore. I can't be stupid forever."

A heavy tear had broken loose and was running down your cheek.

He squinted, wait. Were you talking about him?

The silence was broken by a wet sniff and the shuffle as you went to stand.

"I-I'm gonna wait for Dustin at home." You were whispering now, he barely caught it.

Steve called your name softly, but you didn't turn. Only the sound of the front door shutting remained after you fled.

Steve sat back against the couch, sighing loudly and running both hands through his hair.

How had the conversation gotten away from him so quickly? A pang of guilt resounded in his chest. He shouldn't have insulted the mechanic. Or implied that you don't go on dates. Honestly, he wished he'd just pulled you in to kiss you even after the interruption.

Maybe if he had, he'd be lying with you between his arms right then instead of occupying the couch alone after sending you home in tears.

The old bed frame creaked when you fell against it.

You tore open the sheets in darkness, the pursuit of light abandoned as you crawled beneath them. Pressing your face against the pillow did little in muting your gasping hiccups, you could still hear when Steve's car pulled out the driveway next door and raced off down the street.

Screwing your eyes shut, you worked to dissolve the image of Steve's confused face from your head.

After less than a half hour, the throbbing against the side of your head had grown to unbearable. You reached blindly in your bedside drawer, lifting out a rattling bottle of pain medicine and swallowing two tablets before crashing back against your mascara stained pillow.

Morning arrived hot after a long night of restless tossing.

You would've stayed in bed until the evening, but the sweltering heat forced you from the sheets and declared you face your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

The house creaked around you, empty and alone as it stood most days. Thoughts tormented you, embarrassment tore through you every time your mind wandered to the night before.

You couldn't believe that you'd lost your cool on Steve like that.

Nausea was a constant companion as you tried to move through your day. Sickened by how you allowed yourself to think there was a sliver of hope for reciprocation when he almost kissed you. Clearly you meant nothing more to Steve than any of the other girls who batted their eyelashes at him.

At some point in the afternoon, you phoned the Henderson house. Claudia answered and you stuttered your way through an excuse for calling.

"Dustin said he wasn't feeling well last night ... I just wanted to check if he's okay?"

"Oh, well he seemed fine this afternoon. He just left for Mike's house, I'll tell him you called."

It took a whole twenty minutes after you'd hung up with Dustin's mother, standing at the phone, that you decided to call up Ralph. 

"Listen, I'm really not feeling well today ... yeah, could we do a rain check on the movie tonight?"

"Yes, of course. Maybe next week sometime?"

You couldn't see Ralph that day, not after what happened in the Henderson living room. Your forehead pressed against the wall beside the phone and you sighed loudly.

Dustin was going to be upset. You'd abandoned him to ride his bike to school and ruined what was a perfectly good friendship with someone he cared for deeply.

By almost seven o' clock, the time which Ralph was intending to pick you up, the couch had practically swallowed you whole.

The jingle from the television hummed against the rumble of the cars heading home, you watched only half-attentive - pajama clad legs splayed over the edge of the chair.

The first knock made you shift slightly, only partially sure you'd heard anything at all. But when a second rang through the corridors, louder, you were forced up from the couch.

You were sure it was Ralph. That he hadn't taken the hint, decided to come past anyways, and when your hand closed over the doorknob you were completely ready to feign a cough and kindly nudge him away.

What you weren't ready for, however, was to face Steve Harrington staring down at your across the doorframe.

Your breath caught in your chest, freezing over.

"Hey." He said softly.

Maybe it was your hopeful imagination, but his eyes looked tired: like he also hadn't slept at all. He was in his green Family Video vest and your gaze fell to the small bouquet of pink roses swinging at his side.

"Hey."

He noticed your gaze, lifting the flowers to look at them as if he'd only just noticed them. He dropped his arm back to his side.

"At work," his empty hand fidgeted against the side of his jeans, "they take off fifty cents from my salary for every movie that's returned late and isn't fined."

Your shoulders sank guiltily. "Oh."

Steve tried to ignore the way the look on your face made his head spin. He came on a mission. With a plan. And a pre-planned dialogue so he wouldn't fuck it up again this time.

"But I-I don't fine you, I've never charged you for a late movie ... you're the only person in the whole of Hawkins that I don't fine because of the —that fucking face you make when you know you've gotten away with it again. The way you smile, that full-of-shit smile, it makes me forget my own name."

"Steve—"

But even your eyelashes batting up at him couldn't pull him from his pre-rehearsed lines.

"And I lied. Last night. I knew you were on a date with Rick—"

"—Ralph—"

"Whatever. When you didn't show up at the shop, I phoned Dustin's house to ask where you were then he said you were on a date and I freaked out," The smile creeping up onto your face was only spurring him to keep talking.

"So Robin and I drove over and we were spying on you from his kitchen window."

A gap opened into the space that had gotten smaller since he'd started talking. He sucked in a deep breath.

"So," your voice was soft and lined in that smugness Steve loved so much. "What you're saying is that ... you were jealous? And spying on me?"

"Yes, because you make me crazy." He took another tentative step forward, hoping to inch the crevice between you and him to nothing. "And that guy is really scary looking so I'm really hoping he's not gonna be arriving soon to beat me up, because if I thought I was gonna lose you to some twig from the video store, I'd also kick my ass."

You fidgeted nervously, Steve couldn't help find it endearing, chewing on your bottom lip like you didn't know what to say - a rare phenomenon for your generally smart mouth.

You gestured towards the roses in his hand, "Those for me?"

He lifted them up, nodding slowly.

"Yes." Steve took your hand gently, passing them into your hold. "I came to ask if you wanted to go out on a date with me ... because I think I'm falling in love with you."

The smile curling at the edges of your lips and the way your eyes were twinkling made Steve wonder if he was even awake or if he'd dreamt you up.

"You're very chatty tonight, Steve. Can tell you've got lots on your mind."

He shifted his weight from his one foot to the other, his previous admission still hanging in the air. "Is that a bad thing?"

You shook your head.

"Not normally, but right now I wish you'd just shut up and kiss me."

Steve didn't need telling twice. He cupped your face between his palms, pulling you all the way against him so the roses crushed between your bodies - but he couldn't find the tiniest bit within him to care.

Your lips were warm. So warm. He concluded that the nights he'd lain awake imagining what they'd feel like came nothing close to the hint of spearmint and buttery popcorn against your tongue.

You whined softly against him, hand running up to curl into the hair at the base of his neck and Steve knew immediately that he wouldn't need another kiss from another faceless town girl for the rest of his life.

Still lapping softly at his bottom lip, you began to mumble against his mouth - eyes still screwed shut, Steve was pleased to note - "I'm sorry for losing my shit at you last night ... I was also jealous of all your little girlfriends from the video store. And I promise to make up for the money from the videos ... I'll pay for the first date."

His grip around your waist tightened.

"First off, any girl that's not you doesn't matter. Secondly, shut up about the money - if that's what it cost to get a date with you, then it was worth every cent."

You pulled off of his lips, blinking earnestly up at him. "And when you get bored of me, Harrington?"

He scoffed, a preposterous implication.

"That's not going to happen." His fingers curled between yours, tone twisting sarcastically: "I don't know if you heard me earlier - you might not have because you kind of haven't addressed it and it’s stressing me out - but I did say that I think I'm falling in love with you—"

"I think I'm falling in love with you too, Steven."

A grin overtook him, closing in to kiss you again. "You sure? Not just saying that so I'll shut up and kiss you again?"

Giggling, you nodded. "Pretty sure. Only love can make you look this attractive in a Family Video vest."

[fckeddiemunson]

Take Me Upstairs - Eddie Munson

take me upstairs - rockstar!eddie munson

Synopsis: You run the local record shop and one day Eddie invites you to a show and one thing leads to another. 

Warnings: 18+ only MDNI. some fluff, smidge of angst, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, oral f & m receiving, slight choking if you squint. 

 A/N: Please be nice, this is my first fic I’ve written since I was a teenager xx 

4.5k 

There was one record shop in Hawkins, tucked away off the main street. It belonged to your uncle, but he was more of a figurehead of the business in his old age, you were there most days, running the shop. It was a dream, you got to speak to people about music all day, play whatever you wanted and no one would complain that it was too loud. Before you started the shop had a dark, dingy feeling to it, dust collected on the shelves and the old hardwood floor had nails sticking up everywhere. You had brightened up the place with a bright lick of paint, pot plants everywhere and you kept the latest stuff in stock of all the up and coming hits.

Eddie Munson had been a regular since your uncle had been working there. He would rush in on a Friday morning when all the new music was released and put on the shelves. Sometimes he would line up ten minutes before it opened to grab the only metal record available, because it was such a small town you only kept a little of everything at once. It was a Friday afternoon when he first met you, he was running late for a new album, he was sweating, worried it had already sold. He had parked his van half sticking out to the road in front of the store, tripped up the stairs, called hello to Ray, your uncle and speed walked to the metal section. He was startled when he heard your sweet, soft voice call back to him. He awkwardly shuffled through the cds on the shelves. Eddie smiled gleefully when he saw the new release, he seized it and kissed the cover, “Was worried I was too late for you darlin’” he whispered and walked up to the counter where you were standing with the new Kerrang edition in your hands. Eddies breath hitched when you moved the magazine away to serve him, you were phenomenal, eyes that were bright and inviting and the warmest prettiest smile he had ever seen.“You’re not Ray” he stated and then cringed at you, wow what an opener, he thought and stuttered out trying to say something else. 

You chuckled and leant on the counter, “No, I’m not Ray, I’m Y/N. You’re Eddie right? My uncle warned me about our regular metalhead” You smiled at him and held  your hand outstretched to shake Eddies. 

“Uh, yes I am Eddie, it’s nice to meet you too” He took your hand, stressing that his hand was sweaty and shook yours. Edde wasn’t usually this giddy when he met a girl, plenty of girls showed up to Corroded Coffin gigs now that they had gained a bit of traction in surrounding bigger towns. 

“I put this record on this morning before you got here, you’re in for a treat” You gestured to the Iron Maiden record in his hand, he handed it over to you grinning. “Oh yeah? Well I’m glad to hear it sweetheart, first thing I’m doing after this is blasting it all the way home in the van” Eddie said excited, feeling himself relax and lean against the counter. 

You gasped at his answer, “Oh my no! Eddie, your first listen to an album has to be special, right atmosphere, good stereo, not shitty car speakers!” you were horrified at the mere thought, you liked the ritual of putting a new album on for the first time. 

“Guess I’m just too impatient with masterpieces” Eddie winked at you and immediately regretted it as he handed over a bill to you. Why was he so awkward sometimes?! He groaned mentally. 

“Next time you’re in I expect a full report.” You told him, deadly serious. 

“Absolutely sweetheart.” Eddie left, looking once more behind him as he left, seeing you smiling to yourself as you picked up the magazine again. 

Eddie knew from that moment he was fucked. Nobody at any shows would ever compare. The next day he sauntered back into the store, hoping you were working on a weekend, he was disappointed to know that your brother worked the weekend as you liked to attend as many gigs as you could on the weekend.

Eddie was back in the shop Monday morning, a grin on his face as he tumbled into the store. He called out your name and your head popped up from one of the rows near the back as he followed you down there. 

“Heya sweetheart” Eddie said, leaning against the shelf. 

“Hey yourself. What did you think of the album?” You asked excitedly, he thought you looked so cute all excited and chirpy 

“It was like a religious experience and i ain’t had many of them let me tell you” you giggled at him and began searching through the shelves again. 

“Let me show you something else, you don’t have to buy it, just borrow it for the day and see if you like it?” you picked out a few cds and handed them over. 

“Are you sure sweetheart?” He looked over them, not hearing of some of the bands before

“Yeah sure I’ll be glad to hear your thoughts.” Eddie got suddenly excited that you wanted him to come back, and that Eddie had to come back to see you thrilled him. 

“Hey, could watch the shop for a minute while i go grab a coffee and pastry?” Eddie heard your stomach growl and he chuckled 

“Nonsense, it’s on me, for the cds” You smiled at him and thanked him as he left for coffee. 

You bit into the delicious flaky pastry, a bit sticking to your mouth 

“Oh you’ve got a bit of-“ Eddie gestured to your cheek. You desperately tried to brush it off after several attempts Eddie reached towards you, his hand gently brushing it off. 

“There you go” Eddie whispered as he brushed it off and you both blushed. 

You two had become closer over the last few months. He would often spend up to an hour at closing time when it was quiet just helping you tidy up and then walking you to your car. And when he was in at opening he would bring you coffee and pastries fresh from the cafe down the road. You were getting attached to him, you didn’t want to admit it. Hawkins was the last place you thought you’d end up but after a bad run in Los Angeles as a bartender, you thought you needed a change and it all fell into place. At first you thought Eddie’s extensive amount of time in the shop was normal, your uncle had warned you he was there a lot. But Ray tended to exaggerate with these things. Eddie was always on your mind, as soon as you got to the shop and opened up. Your head would whip around to the door every time the little bell dinged as the door opened. He was sweet and funny and a little flirty which often made your cheeks heat up. You were hoping he’d make a move but it had been a few months now and Eddie would still just come in to talk to you.

Eddie waited in a cafe around the corner from the record store, grabbing you your regular latte and pastry. He had some CD’s of his own to give you this time and he was very excited about it. This new found hobby he had of obsessively listening to the CD’s you gave him and thinking about what to give you next was his favourite pastime. Eddie was thinking about asking you out on a date but outside of being on stage he was a bit shy and you were the first girl to mean something to him beyond a girl at a show. 

 He walked towards the record store, checking his hair in a nearby store window and walked into the shop. He noticed you weren’t at the counter so he wandered through checking out the new releases, he heard your sweet laugh trickle through the store and he also heard another man’s voice speaking to you as you giggled. Eddie didn’t know what it was about but he felt immediately annoyed, his eyebrow raised as he lurked around the shop finding you in the back corner. He saw you talking to a tall dark haired man also with tattoos on his arms. Inside him was pure turmoil - partially because he knew he was overreacting but part because he really didn’t want any suspicion of his to be right. 

“Eddie!” You shouted excited, too loud for the small space. 

“You have to meet Luke! He was a bartender with me in California!! He was passing through town.” You spoke with adoring eyes for Luke, or so Eddie thought. He also thought it was bullshit, no one passes through Hawkins. 

Eddie strained “Nice to meet you” before Luke gave you a quick hug and you two said your goodbyes. 

After he left Eddie awkwardly gave you the pastry and coffee, watching as you took a bite. 

“Is he ah, an ex?” Eddie found himself spilling out before he could stop. 

“Oh, ah no just a friend who helped me out when I was there. Bit weird he stopped by though.” You shrugged and the pit in Eddie’s stomach slowly got smaller, he felt ridiculous to feel such jealousy for you. 

“Okay sugar, I’ve got band prac so I’ve got to go but ah here’s some Cd’s i think you should hear. Let me know, yeah?” You smiled warmly at Eddie and his heart swelled in his heart and jeans. 

You blew him a kiss as he walked to the door and Eddie swore under his breath as he walked to his van. Oh yeah he was totally fucked. 

 You knew he had a band that was slowly gaining traction and getting out there. It was his dream and  you had passionately spoken about it with him. Watching him talk about the band and getting excited about getting out there more made you swoon. The way his smile lit up the entire shop, it was cheeky and earnest. And his eyes that were constantly on yours, his intense eye contact often made you lose  your breath but you loved his attention. You had even started stocking the EP they had released, and playing it in store to spark conversation with other customers so you could gush over him. 

Eddie rushed in one Friday morning a few weeks after running into Luke, you peaked through the window seeing the rest of his band in the van, looking packed in with gear. 

“Morning sugar” His usual charm on high volume, he was in an excellent mood. The band had gotten a  huge gig at a bar in a nearby town. It had a venue room that held about 500 people, and for them that was epic. Beyond huge, the biggest they had ever played somewhere, and away from home too! 

“Would you mind putting this up in the window? I want as many people to come tomorrow night as they can!” You looked over the poster, a smile crept onto your face as your eyes met Eddies and you bit your lip in excitement for him. 

“Of course Eddie. I’m so ecstatic for you! This is huge, your big break for sure. I will play nothing but Corroded Coffin all day!” You did a little hop skip of excitement around  the counter and punched his arm. 

“Seriously, super proud of you.” Eddie blushed at your words and looked at you once more before deciding to pull you into a crushing bear hug. You inhaled him, strong and musky, it made you warm inside. 

“You better be coming tonight sweetheart.” He winked at you before there was a honk from the van, his bandmates clearly getting impatient. He gave them the finger and looked back at you. 

“Seriously, I’ll put your name on the door, as you’re the only one in town who will stock the record.” 

“Eddie I am the  only record shop in town” you whined but he only smirked and gave your arm a quick squeeze before he ran out the door. 

You heard the boys in the van all “whoooo” at the same time and you saw Eddie go bright red as they drove away 

You stood in your room hours later, hair in rollers, stressing about which outfit to wear. This wasn’t a normal gig where you’d just throw on any old jeans and a ripped up old shirt. This was Eddie's big gig, you didn’t want to get lost in the crowd, you wanted him to know you were there supporting him. You settled on jeans anyway and an Iron Maiden shit, reminiscent of your first conversation. You tucked it in showing your stomach and went to the bathroom stressing about your hair and makeup. 

Once you got inside the venue, you were excited but got a little disheartened at all the stunning girls at the gig. You felt like you couldn’t compare to these bombshells. You shot another drink for good luck, nodding your head along to the opening band. The butterflies in your stomach only intensified as they finished and everyone started closing in for Eddie. You usually got keen for gigs but you felt extra giddy and bouncy as it was his band, he had your heart in chains and he didn’t even know it. You settled for a spot a few rows back from the stage, snug against a wall. There were too many girls crowding the front to get any closer. The lights dimmed and you were smiling at the stage, nerves flying off of you in static waves. 

Eddie came out on stage with his signature red guitar, tight black skinny jeans, a ripped up singlet that showed his biceps and tattoos and red boots. Eddie was also the vocalist and he sauntered up to the microphone, mouth close to it and welcomed and thanked the crowd for coming. There were a few cheers but mostly loud squeals from the few girls in the first couple of rows.

The first song played and the riff ripped through the venue, you were hooked. It was like ecstasy, his voice and playing sent you into a frenzy. You were headbanging in time with the guy next to you and shouting out the lyrics. A small mosh broke out and you pushed to be in the mosh, having the most fun you’d had at a show. Their presence was electrifying and the whole crowd could tell they were witnessing something special. 

Eddie was the most charismatic frontman. So much so that during one of their dirtier songs he lent down and started singing to her, eyes staring directly into the girl's soul, her hands were on his legs grabbing and touching. He did the same to a few other girls throughout the set. You felt like you had been punched in the gut. You sank to the back of the crowd. You knew it had to be part of the show and his presence but the way he sang to them hurt you more than you could admit. You suddenly didn’t feel special, Eddie had this way of making you feel like you were the queen in his kingdom. He was so charismatic and charming and on stage it was amplified. You slumped against the back wall of the venue, now replaying all the closing chats you had where you talked about your hopes, dreams and fears. Before the gig you were sure he likes you at least a little bit in the way your heart swelled at the mention of his name. Seeing him sing to the girls reminded you that he treated every girl the way he did with you and you tried to enjoy the end of the show without feeling sorry for yourself. 

After the gig ended you headed back out and lingered around the main bar for a while, nursing a gin and tonic deciding if you should go knock on the shared dressing room for the boys. Being on the list gave you certain advantages. Out of the corner of your eye you saw one of his bandmates, Gareth, gesturing for you to come over, he was headed back with a tray of drinks.Gareth had been in the store with Eddie a bunch of times. You drew a deep breath, scared to face Eddie feeling sad about unreturned feelings, but your feet started moving towards the backstage door. 

You followed through the door behind Gareth and were met with several girls in the dressing room, all giggling and one sitting very close to Eddie, hand on his arm who had his back to you on the couch. You awkwardly stood near the door as Gareth hustled to the table to set the drinks down. 

“Look who found her way here” Gareth nudged Eddie, who tore himself away from the girl on the couch, she looked at you intensely. 

Eddie grinned at you, you felt your heart twinge at the sight, beating faster with anxiety as he came closer to you. He handed you a beer and you skulled a few sips with him. You were loose tongued when you were tipsy and you were worried you may just pour your feelings out onto him and he would go back to the table of groupies. 

Instead you pulled yourself together, “That was one hell of a show Eddie '', he clinked his bottle against yours, biting his lip as you said that. You averted your eyes from his lip biting, knowing any kind  of light flirting would make you sad knowing if you didn’t walk in he would probably be making out with that girl. 

“I know right! I was worried you weren’t here, couldn’t see you in the crowd” he pouted at you and your heart strings pulled, heart filling with warmth for him against your wishes. You didn't want to be hurt. 

“I was in the mosh mostly, too far back to see me. That's why my hair is all messed up.” you gestured to your wavy poofy hair. 

“You have never looked more spectacular than you do right now. You’re gorgeous” 

Eddie reached up and tucked a bit of hair behind your ear, your heart hammering as he did. You both audibly heard the girl on the couch scoff. 

“Let's get some air?” Eddie suggested and you nodded. 

You found yourself in a cozy corner of the smokers area, falling into conversation easily with Eddie as he lit up a cigarette and another round of drinks had made its way to your table, perks of being the band playing. Your inhibitions were lowering and you were gaining confidence when you said, “do you usually fuck all those girls in your dressing room after shows?” 

Eddie was taken aback by the question. You had talked about your love lives before, exes and the like but never about something like this. Eddie looked at your face, he could tell you were annoyed by the girl he was speaking to before. Eddie hesitated

“I used to sleep with one or two, once our shows started getting a bit bigger. But I’m not really a one night stand person.” You considered, a little more annoyed than you originally thought. 

“Yeah but if I hadn’t showed up to distract you, you would’ve fucked that girl in there tonight” You acccused, taking a swig of your drink. 

“No I wouldn’t have! If anything, her conversation was a distraction. And what about your friend from Cali huh?” Eddie argued back. You blamed the alcohol for why you were feeling this way but you couldn’t stop now 

“He means nothing! Don’t turn this on me, Eddie. it’s almost shameful how intimate you are with those girls in the crowd.” You strained, you felt a lump in your chest, heaving with every word. 

“Sweetheart, that's just for the show, got to get everyone riled up!” You didn't say a word and he sighed, placing a hand on your knee and rubbing it. Eddie swallowed hard 

“You know I-.. I haven’t even thought about kissing anyone. Anyone at all except you darlin’. I don’t even think about other women like that, I only ever think about you” Eddie searched your face for some sign of reaction. His hand on your knee moved to lift your chin up to meet his eyes. 

“Eddie, you make me feel things I have never felt before. And- and I'm scared to get hurt.” You whispered out, looking into Eddie's warm brown eyes, breathless at your admission. Eddie placed his hand on your bar stool and dragged it as close as possible.  His knee nestled in between your legs, your thighs touching. Eddie cupped your cheek, letting his hand run down to your neck, thumb trailing along your jaw to your mouth. He had brought his face closer to yours, your hearts hammering together in sync.

He ran his thumb over your bottom lip and you kissed lightly. Eddie stared at you, his hand slithering to the back of your neck to pull you closer to him, your lips a mere inch apart. 

He cupped your neck and jaw again, before you lost your composure and lent in, brushing your lips against his plush ones. He exhaled sharply, bringing his other hand up to cup your jaw with both hands as he shifted close to you and entangled your lips again. You gasped as he sucked in your bottom lip, fiercely kissing you. Your hand fumbled for his shirt and collar, desperate to feel him. Eddie took a breath and before he could move, you kissed him again, licking his bottom lip as his tongue met yours and slid over your bottom lip into your mouth. You moaned against him, hand clutching and squeezing his thigh. Eddie stood up, pressing his body into yours. Eddie pulled back from the kiss  to look at you, your lips were swollen, lipstick smearing a bit onto his lips. 

“Look at you, shit, all fucked out and I haven’tt even gotten started” he whispered, hand behind your neck  pulling  you close as he nuzzled into your neck. He kissed your neck lightly, testing the waters as you gasped and let your hand disappear into his curly locks. Eddie kissed and nipped and sucked at your neck, you felt your pussy warm and clench everytime he would bite and suck, each time with more vigor and lust. You could feel Eddie’s dick against you. That alone made you whimper against him. 

“I have a room upstairs, we have a gig tomorrow so I figured why not-” You cut Eddie off with a bruising kiss, tangling your hands in his hair. 

“Yes, take me there” You whimpered out, completely under his control and absolutely soaking for him. 

He grabbed your arm, leading you back inside and up a stairway, you stumbled into his room, breathless.

Eddie pushed you against the wall and engulfed you in a kiss, fire exploded in your stomach as you sunk down to your knees, staring up at him, his eyes full of lust. 

“I have been wanting to do this for a long time” You whispered, fumbling with his belt on his pants. 

“Oh yeah? I’ve dreamed of seeing you on your knees for me” Eddie grabbed your chin and angled it to look up at him, satisfied at the already fucked out look you had on your face. You shimmed his jeans down a bit, stopping briefly, suddenly nervous to see him for the first time. Eddie instead took over, you looked down as he took his cock in his hand, stroking it up and down, groaning as he did. 

“Look at me sweetheart.” Eddie said down to you, a command, not a question. Your eyes slowly crept up, you let out a breath seeing his cock at eye level, much bigger and prettier than you were expecting. Eddie tapped it on your lips once before you took him in your mouth, licking the tip and then sucking in, until he hit the back of your throat. You breathed out harshly, refusing to let him slide out. 

Eddie groaned deeply above you, sending waves between your legs, you moaned against him as you continued to suck greedily. 

“Makin’ me feel so good baby, so good”  Eddie mumbled lustily above you, entangling his hand in your hair and forcing more of him into your mouth, you groaned at the sensation. Eddie moved your head back and forth on his dick, your jaw slack for him, his moans were sending you into a frenzy, you gagged on him once before he slid out of your mouth. 

“Dirty girl” he muttered, pulling you up and kissing you, tongue invading your mouth. His hands wrapped around you, his big hands grabbing your ass, he tested the waters by giving it a sharp slap and you gasped, convinced you’re dripping through your underwear. 

Eddie pushed you onto the nearby bed, his weight crushing as he undid your jeans and dragged them off you, pulling you to the edge of the bed as he did. His hands ran over your bare thighs, thumbs digging in at the apex of your thighs. He teased your underwear waistband, snapping it against your skin before dropping his head right between your thighs, strong hands spreading them for him, and only him. He thumbed the cloth, right against your clit and you let out a whine that turned into a moan as he  kissed your clit through the thin cloth. Eddie hooked his finger under the waistband and pulled them down slowly, spreading your legs once again. He slid his finger through your folds, you let out a whimper as he gathered your slick on his fingers and brought it to mouth, sucking it off. 

“Just as sweet as I’d thought you’d be baby” Eddie grinned before thumbing your clit slowly, your head rolled back on the bed as he drew slow teasing circles on you, occasionally teasing your tight hole. He sunk his teeth into your thigh, short sharp breaths coming from you as you almost fell apart over Eddies touches. 

“Please” You whimpered to him, Eddie’s wicked grin lighted his face. 

“Please what?” he teased, his hand abruptly stopping on your cunt. 

“Please… fuck me” you writhed on the bed, desperate for pleasure. 

“No, I'm not done with you yet.” Eddie growled and pinned your left thigh down and spread your folds, slipping two fingers inside of you, a high moan escaping your lips. 

Eddie’s fingers were long and found that sensitive spot inside you quickly as his fingers moved deliciously inside you, filthy noises escaping your mouth at the squelch of your wetness on his fingers. He thumbed your clit at the same time, you felt your build up quickly, but something felt different, more intense as his fingers relentlessly brought you higher and higher. 

“Eddie” his name left in a high pitched whine, your hips lifted off the bed as you felt your release flood through you, you shivered, lifting your hips off the bed. You felt extra wet as Eddie continued to fuck you with his fingers, you twitched beneath him, overstimulated. 

“Thats it good girl, good fucking girl.” He praised as his movements slowly came to a stop. 

You lay on the bed breathless, hair sticking to your neck, but Eddie wasn’t near done yet. 

“You squirted sweetheart, have you done that before or was it all for me?” Eddie crawled onto you, settling between your legs, tugging his hard cock as he did. 

“All for you, only for you” You replied, looking up at him. His chest lean, arms muscular and covered in tattoos, his face strained as he jerked himself off. Eddie suddenly grabbed your hips and pulled  you close to him, kissing you deeply as he slid in, a sharpness you weren’t expecting as he stilled inside you. 

“Come on sweet girl, you can take me.” Eddie peppered kisses onto your face as he moved slowly, long languid thrusts into your tight dripping pussy. 

Pleasure slowly took over you and you hooked your arms around his ass, pulling him tight against you, needing to feel him everywhere, the feeling of Eddie was addictive. 

Eddie brought his hand to your neck, running his thumb over your lip which you took into your mouth eagerly, earning a deep moan from Eddie above you. Eddie snapped his hips to yours, pressing your legs above your shoulders as his thrusts became faster and deeper. 

You were moaning loudly, not caring if the whole hotel heard you, your eyes shut tightly as he deepened the angle of his hips. You had never felt so full in your life, Eddie kept fucking you, his balls slapping on your leg. Eddie's hand found your clit, rubbing slowly again, you whimpered under his touch, unsure how much more you could take. Your breath was ragged, you were so close.

“Eddie I’m gonna-” Eddie chuckled and stopped his movements, you groaned loudly beneath him as he withdrew from you. 

“Nononono” you whined, jerking your hips up to nothing, as he moved to stand on the edge of the bed. He grabbed your ankles, yanking you to the edge and forced your head down into the mattress. 

You whined and shook your ass in front of him. 

“Eddie, please” you started playing with yourself in front of him, needing him. 

He tapped himself over your clit a few times, making you move your hand as he pushed your back down further into the bed while holding your hips up for him. Eddie slid back in, that familiar full feeling returning as he thrusted against you, his balls slapping your clit each thrust. 

“Fuck you feel so good from this angle, so good for me, so wet sweetheart” Eddie was losing it because of you, each thrust sent him closer and closer, he felt the familiar warming in his lower stomach. 

Eddie reached round and rubbed circles on your clit and you let out a loud moan, hips moving with his. You felt your stomach tighten as his cock continued to fill you up, each thrust sending you closer. 

“Eddie” you warned him, high pitched moans stringing out of your mouth. 

You crashed over the edge as Eddie fucked hard and deep into you, every word fell from your mouth as you moaned for him, he gave a final thrust before a deep gutteral moan left his lips, his hot come spilling into you. 

“Fuck sweetheart” His deep voice groaned as he collapsed next to you. 

You stayed there for a few moments staring at each other in the post hue of sex, he was smiling widely at you. 

“I suppose I better take you on a date now huh?” He said wiping his hair from his face and tying it into a bun 

“Yeah you better rockstar”

[phoenixyfriend]

Ko-fi prompt from @thisarenotarealblog:

There's a street near me that has eight car dealerships all on the same lot- i counted. it mystifies me that even one gets enough sales to keep going- but 8?? is there something you can tell me that demystifies this aspect of capitalism for me?

I had a few theories going in, but had to do some research. Here is my primary hypothesis, and then I'll run through what they mean and whether research agrees with me:

Sales make up only part of a dealership's income, so whether or not the dealership sells much is secondary to other factors.

Dealerships are put near each other for similar reasons to grouping clothing stores in a mall or restaurants on a single street.

Zoning laws impact where a car dealership can exist.

Let's start with how revenue works for a car dealership, as you mentioned 'that even one gets enough sales to keep going' is confusing. For this, I'm going to be using the Sharpsheets finance example, this NYU spreadsheet, and this Motor1 article.

This example notes that the profit margin (i.e. the percentage of revenue that comes out after paying all salaries, rent, supply, etc) for a car dealership is comparatively low, which is confirmed by the NYC sheet. The gross profit margin (that is to say, profits on the car sale before salaries, rent, taxes) is under 15% in both sources, which is significantly lower than, say, the 50% or so that one sees in apparel or cable tv.

Cars are expensive to purchase, and can't be sold for much more than you did purchase them. However, a low gross profit margin on an item that costs tens of thousands of dollars is still a hefty chunk of cash. 15% gross profit of a $20,000 car is still $3,000 profit. On top of that, the dealership will charge fees, sell warranties, and offer upgrades. They may also have paid deals to advertise or push certain brands of tire, maintenance fluids, and of course, banks that offer auto loans. So if a dealership sells one car a day, well, that's still several thousand dollars coming in, which is enough to pay the salaries of most of the employees. According to the Motor1 article, "the average gross profit per new vehicle sits at $6,244" in early 2022.

There is also a much less volatile, if also much smaller, source of revenue in attaching a repairs and checkup service to a dealership. If the location offers repairs (either under warranty or at a 'discounted' rate compared to a local, non-dealership mechanic), state inspections, and software updates, that's a recurring source of revenue from customers that aren't interested in purchasing a car more than once a decade.

This also all varies based on whether it's a brand location, used vs new, luxury vs standards, and so on.

I was mistaken as to how large a part of the revenue is the repairs and services section, but the income for a single dealership, on average, does work out math-wise. Hypothesis disproven, but we've learned something, and confirmed that income across the field does seem to be holding steady.

I'm going to handle the zoning and consolidation together, since they overlap:

Consolidation is a pretty easy one: this is a tactic called clustering. The expectation is that if you're going to, say, a Honda dealership to look at a midsize sedan, and there's a Nissan right next door, and a Ford across the street, and a Honda right around the corner, you might as well hit up the others to see if they have better deals. This tactic works for some businesses but not others. In the case of auto dealerships, the marketing advantage of clustering mixes with the restrictions of zoning laws.

Zoning laws vary by state, county, and township. Auto dealerships can generally only be opened on commercially zoned property.

I am going to use an area I have been to as an example/case study.

This pdf is a set of zoning regulations for Suffolk County, New York, published 2018, reviewing land use in the county during 2016. I'm going to paste in the map of the Town of Huntington, page 62, a region I worked in sporadically a few years ago, and know mostly for its mall and cutesy town center.

Those red sections are Commercially Zoned areas, and they largely follow some large stroads, most notably Jericho Turnpike (the horizontal line halfway down) and Walt Whitman Road (the vertical line on the left). The bulge where they intersect is Walt Whitman Mall, and the big red chunk in the bottom left is... mostly parking. That central strip, Jericho Turnpike, and its intersection with Walt Whitman... looks like this:

All those red spots are auto dealerships, one after another.

So zoning laws indicate that a dealership (and many other types of commercial properties) can only exist in that little red strip on the land use map, and dealerships take up a lot of space. Not only do they need places to put all of the cars they are selling, but they also need places to park all their customers and employees.

This is where we get into the issue of parking minimums. There is a recent video from Climate Town, with a guest spot by NotJustBikes. If you want to know more about this aspect of zoning law, I'd recommend watching this video and the one linked in the description.

Suffolk county does not have parking minimums. Those are decided on a town or village level. In this case, this means we are looking at the code set for the town of Huntington. (I was originally looking on the county level, and then cut the knot by just asking my real estate agent mom if she knew where I could find minimum parking regulations. She said to look up e360 by town, and lo and behold! There they are.)

(There is also this arcgis map, which shows that they are all within the C6 subset of commercial districting, the General Business District.)

Furniture or appliance store, machinery or new auto sales - 1 per 500 square feet of gross floor area

Used auto sales, boat sales, commercial nurseries selling at retail - 5 spaces for each use (to be specifically designated for customer parking) - Plus 1 for each 5,000 square feet of lot area

This is a bit odd, at first glance, as the requirements are actually much lower than that of other businesses, like drive-in restaurants (1 per 35 sqft) or department stores (1 per 200 sqft). I could not find confirmation on whether the 'gross floor area' of the dealership included only indoor spaces or also the parking lot space allotted to the objects for sale, but I think we can assume that any parking spaces used by merchandise do not qualify as part of the minimum. Some dealerships can have up to 20,000 gross sqft, so those would require 40 parking spaces reserved solely for customers and employees. Smaller dealerships would naturally need less. One dealership in this area is currently offering 65 cars of varying makes and models; some may be held inside the building, but most will be on the lot, and the number may go higher in other seasons. If we assume they need 30 parking spaces for customers and employees, and can have up to 70 cars in the lot itself, they are likely to have 100 parking spaces total.

That's a lot of parking.

Other businesses that require that kind of parking requirement are generally seeing much higher visitation. Consider this wider section of the map:

The other buildings with comparative parking are a grocery store (Lidl) and a post office (can get some pretty high visitation in the holiday season, but also just at random).

Compare them, then, to the "old town" section of the same town.

There are a handful of public parking areas nearby (lined in blue), whereas the bulk of the businesses are put together along this set of streets. While there is a lot of foot traffic and vehicle passage, which is appealing for almost any business, opening a car dealership in this area would require not only buying a building, but also the buildings surrounding it. You would need to bulldoze them for the necessary parking, which would be prohibitively expensive due to the cost of local real estate... and would probably get shot down in the application process by city planners and town councils and so on. Much easier to just buy land over in the strip where everyone's got giant parking lots and you can just add a few extra cramped lanes for the merchandise.

Car dealerships also tend to be very brightly lit, which hits a lot of NIMBY sore spots. It's much easier to go to sleep if you aren't right next to a glaring floodlight at a car dealership, so it's best if we just shove them all away from expensive residential, which means towards the loud stroads, which means... all along these two major roads/highways.

And if they're all limited to a narrow type of zoning already, they might as well take advantage of cluster marketing and just all set up shop near each other in hopes of stealing one of the other's customers.

As consumers, it's also better for us, because if we want to try out a few different cars from a few different brands, it's pretty easy to just go one building down to try out the Hyundai and see if it's better than a Chevy in the same price group.

(Prompt me on ko-fi!)

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

Predator and Prey: Final - Chapter Nine

Pairing: Tommy Cahill x Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Minors do not interact, Slow Burn, War Inaccuracies, Lots of Swearing, Mention of PTSD but barely, Stalking, Abuse, Sexual Themes, Kidnapping, Drugging, Mentions of Pregnancy.

Summary: You and Tommy start a new life together.

Short Chapter

- Chapter Eight Here -

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Three days had passed before the drugs finally cleared from your system, even after doctors administered activated charcoal and other medicines to help. The doctors had told Tommy you were lucky he found you so quickly, as you had been given a near fatal dose.

You finally began to stir, and Tommy immediately rushed to your side.

“Hey, hey.. take it easy.” He said gently, pushing you back down and stroking your hair.

You were confused, the last thing you remembered was being in your kitchen, and then you felt a sharp pinch in your neck and suddenly you were waking up in the hospital. Tommy filled you in on what had happened, and you cried. You couldn’t believe this had all been because you were stupid enough to trust someone like Chloe, and with your precious dog of all things. Tommy held you until you calmed down, and assured you everything was going to be ok.

You lay back down and looked up at Tommy, you were so grateful for him, for everything he’d done, and for finding and saving you. You were thankful for Sam and Mike too, and made a mental note to thank them when you saw them next.

You stroked Tommys cheek and gently pulled him down to kiss you. The kiss was gentle but filled with affection, and Tommy melted into you having been starved of this for 3 days, thinking the whole time he may lose you.

“I need to tell you something.” Tommy mumbled into your lips as he pulled away slightly.

“What is it?” You whispered, dizzy from the kiss, or the remnants of being drugged, you weren’t sure.

“I know it’s probably too soon to say this, but I wouldn’t be saying it if I wasn’t really fucking sure I meant it… but baby, I’m in love with you. I knew it before this all happened but now I’m so sure it hurts. I thought I was gonna lose you before I could tell you and that scared me. Like a lot… I don’t ever wanna know the feeling of being without you. If you’ll have me, and I’m not just a hot piece of ass to you-“ he stopped and chuckled, “then it’s me and you, kid. I don’t want anyone else.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, and tears slipped from your eyes as you grinned up at him. “Oh you are so the soppy one in this relationship.” You laughed, pulling him back down for a kiss. “I love you Tommy Cahill.” You mumbled into his lips, and you felt Tommy smile into the kiss as he pulled the white curtain closed around your hospital bed.

A month later, you and Tommy packed up his truck with everything you needed, with Jet securely in the back seat, and you set off.

You both decided a fresh start was needed. You sold your store, books and all, to an elderly couple looking to put their retirement to good use, and found a leafy little town about 2 hours West that looked like it had potential. You’d put a deposit on a house with a nice big back yard, backing up on vast green woods and with many local parks for Jet to enjoy. You would find a new little store to open, and you and Tommy would create a new life.

Tommy grabbed your hand and gave it a kiss as he drove. You smiled at him and finally felt relief wash over you as drove further and further away from the place you called home for 3 years. You also felt nervous excitement, as you hadn’t yet told Tommy that you were pregnant. You would tell him over a takeout dinner that night in your new home. You didn’t know it yet, but Tommy would be ecstatic, and he’d pick you up and swing you in circles. Tommy couldn’t wait to be a dad, and he would be a good one too.

Yes, everything had worked out somehow. If you had never met Jason, and he had never sent you running, you wouldn’t have ever met Tommy. In some way everything bad had brought you everything good, and so you could make peace with it.

You were ready for this fresh start, and as you day dreamed about your new life, you failed to notice the car that had been following you turn for turn for the last hour.

The end.

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Note: I’d just like to say a massive thank you to everyone who read this, I really hope you enjoyed it! It was so much fun to write again ❤️

[cruetrimeblog]

The Unfortunate Story of Ed Gein

Ed Gein was born in Wisconsin on August 27, 1906. He had one older brother named Harry. His parents' names were Philip and Augusta Gein. Unfortunately there was a lot of turmoil in the Gein's marriage. Philip was an alcoholic who hopped from job to job, and Augusta resented him for it.

In later years, the Gein family relocated to a 155 acre farm in Plainfield, Wisconsin. Augusta never allowed visitors to the family farm for fear that they would corrupt her sons. The boys only left the farm to attend school. Their free time was spent doing chores.

Augusta was a strongly devout Lutheran. She often preached to her children about the immorality of the world around them. She often read to the boys from the darkest parts of The Old Testament.

Ed grew into a very shy young man. His teachers and peers thought of him as weird. Any time he started to make friends, he would be punished by his mother.

Although he suffered from poor social development, he did well in school, especially in reading.

Ed's father died on April 1, 1940 due to heart failure caused by his alcoholism. He was 66 years old. To help their mother with living expenses, Ed and Henry began doing odd jobs around town. Ed frequently babysat for his neighbors. He really enjoyed this because he claimed to relate more to children than adults.

Henry later began dating a divorced single mom of 2 children. The two planned to move in together. Henry soon started to worry about Ed and his attachment to their mother. He would often speak badly of her around Ed which hurt him greatly.

On May 16, 1944 the two men were burning away vegetation on their property when the fire got out of control. The fire caught the attention of local firefighters who shortly arrived to put out the flames. After the fire was sequestered, Ed reported his brother Henry missing.

A search party found Henry's body lying face down. He had been dead for some time when he was found. His initial cause of death was ruled as heart failure. He wasn't burned but had a bruise on his head.

Police initially believed that there was no foul play involved, so there was no further investigation. The coroner ultimately ruled his cause of death to be asphyxiation. Many people suspected Ed of being involved in his brother's death.

After Henry's death, Augusta suffered from a stroke, and suffered another shortly afterwards. Her health began to rapidly deteriorate, and she died on December 29, 1945. Ed was devastated. He was quoted saying that he "lost his only friend and one true love. And he was absolutely alone in the world."

After his mother's death, Ed continued to work on the family farm. He boarded up the areas of the house where his mother spent the most time: upstairs, the downstairs parlor, and the living room. Those areas remained in pristine condition while he allowed the rest of the house to become trashed. Ed mostly remained in a small room next to the kitchen. He spent a lot of free time reading magazines and adventure stories about nazis and cannibals.

Ed earned extra money by continuing to work as a handyman and doing odd jobs here and there. He also received a farm subsidy from the government. However, by 1956 he had sold 80 acres of his land.

On November 16, 1957 a Plainfield hardware store owner named Bernice Wooden disappeared. A witness saw her car leaving the store at around 9:30 am. Citizens found it strange that the store was closed all day. Bernice's son Frank, who happened to be the sheriff, walked into the store at around 5 pm. He walked in to find the register wide open and blood stains on the floor. He told investigators that Ed had been in the store the night before the incident. He also returned the day of the incident to get a gallon of antifreeze. The receipt for this transaction was the last transaction recorded by Bernice. Ed was arrested later that night at a local grocery store. This also gave the police enough probably cause to search Ed's farm.

A deputy discovered Bernice's decapitated body in Ed's shed. She had been hung upside down by her legs with a crossbar. She also had ropes around her wrist. Her torso was described as, "dressed out like a deer." Her cause of death was a gunshot wound. The mutilations to her body took place postmortem.

This was only the beginning of the horror that authorities uncovered on Ed's property. Police found: human bone fragments, a wastebasket made out of skin, human skin furniture coverings, skulls on his bedposts, bowls made from skulls, a corset made from skin, leggings made from skin, masks made from skin, Bernice's head in a sack, her heart in a plastic bag near the stove, nine vulvae in a shoebox, a belt made from human nipples, four noses, a pair of lips on a window's drawstring, and a lampshade made from a human face. These items were photographed at the state crime lab before they were ultimately destroyed.

Ed admitted to robbing several graveyards between 1947 and 1956 to exhume bodies that had been recently buried. He stated that he was in a trance like state during his visits, sometimes waking up in the moment and returning home empty handed. He preferred to dig up women who resembled his mother. He took the bodies home to tan their skin which he would then use to make into different household objects. Ed later led investigators to all the burial sites that he disturbed. Two of those graves were found to be empty.

Ed's ultimate goal was to make a "woman suit" out of human flesh. He wanted to literally become his late mother. One of the gruesome objects found on Ed's property was the head of tavern owner Mary Hogan. Ed admitted to shooting her but denied any further memories of her death.

A young witness reported to police that he believed Ed kept shrunken heads in his house. Ed corroborated this, but said they were ancient relics from the Philippines. Police later determined that these were human faces from Ed's victims which he used as masks.

Ed's confession was ultimately ruled as inadmissible due to him being assaulted by a police officer during his interrogation. The officer repeatedly banged Ed's head against a wall.

Ed's trial began on November 21, 1957. He was arraigned on 1 count of first degree murder which he pled not guilty by reason of insanity to. Ed had been diagnosed with schizophrenia, and he was hoping to use his diagnosis to his advantage. He was ultimately found mentally incompetent and was not deemed fit for trial. He was sent to the Central State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He was later transferred to the Mendota State Hospital in Wisconsin.

It wasn't until doctors reevaluated Ed in 1968 that he was found to be able to participate in his own defense. His trial began on November 7, 1968. The trial lasted for one week. At first Ed tried to play Bernice's death off as an unmeditated accident, but couldn't remember any other details about the day in question.

Ed's defense requested that his trial not be presented to a jury, so it was only a judge there to try to convince of his innocence. Judge Robert Gollmar found Ed guilty on November 14th. There was a second trial held to try to determine Ed's sanity where the same judge ruled that Ed was not guilty by reason of insanity, again. He was admitted to a mental institution. Ed remained in mental institutions for the rest of his life.

Ed's property was appraised at $4,700. This is the equivalent to over $42,000 today. His possessions were sent to auction on March 30, 1958. Due to rumors that the house would be turned into a morbid tourist attraction, it mysteriously burned down on March 20th. The fire was determined to be a "rubbish fire" that was set about 75 feet away from the house. Arson was reasonably suspected, but the potential arsonist was never uncovered. When Ed was given the news about his house, he was fairly unbothered.

Ed's car that he used to transport bodies was sold at auction for $760. This is the equivalent to over $6,700 today. The car was bought by a carnival sideshow operator. He charged the public 25 cents a pop to see it.

Ed Gein died in the Mendola Mental Institue on July 26,1984 due to complications from lung cancer. For many years, people slowly chipped away pieces of his headstone. The entire stone was stolen in 2000. It was later found in Seattle in June 2001. It was ultimately placed in storage. His grave remains unmarked but not unknown. He is buried between his mother and his brother.

Ed Gein's story has had a large influence in modern day pop culture. Many films had antagonists that were based on Ed such as: Psycho, House of 1000 Corpses, The Devil's Rejects, American Psycho, Silence of the Lambs, and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Many TV shows also used Ed's likeness such as American Horror Story and Bates Motel.

[thehistoriangirl]

The Tides Have Veiled [Twelve]

This one took longer than expected jkjhdjkfjhjfh but with this chapter this second arc in the story is over :D

Viktor x Fem!Reader----3.8K-----SFW**

> MASTERLIST <- Previous // Next ->

Synopsis:  Piltover the Old has an old lighthouse that looms over an abandoned port. From the house in the wailing cliff’s edge, the lighthouse owner watches that the beacon is being lighten up each time darkness arrives, so that monsters wouldn't dare to crawl inland, or so legends say. Both buildings are haunted, maybe even the man himself, by both past and present ghosts. Surprisingly, the keeper’s work is beyond turning on the beacon every night— but the rest is on you to discover.

Chapter Summary: You're ready to leave your past life behind, but are you willing to face what the new one has in store for you?

Tags: Strangers to Lovers | Ghosts | Slow Burn | Forced Proximity | Spooky Imaginery | Verbal & Physical Violence against Reader** | Dysfunctional Family Dynamics** | Body Horror** |

Taglist: @lunar-monster @local-mr-frog @bittercyder @blissfulip

Twelve: Like the Blood that Runs Through Our Veins

You knew this path by memory.

All from walking day by day during years of carrying buckets filled with gutted fish and oysters that were sold in the market and some even sent to the city. The way back home to the beach was outlined with the swamp area that connected the forest uphill to the decline of the shoreline.

However, time changed everything, and the way back to the hut you once called home was no different.

Everchanging as the sea’s mood was, the muddy water from the swamp was deeper than usual, probably because of the storm of last night, with the bare roots of trees peeking under a light layer of mud and sand, there where the arid ground met with the incipient vegetation of the forest’s edge.

At another time, you would've thought about bringing something—a peace offering of sorts—once you walked down this way again. But time-pressured, and the voices of the funeral service echoed closer, just as the huff of burned wood.

With the clothes filled with oil and grease from cleaning the control panel, your hands felt warm despite the autumn wind as you’ve found solace in the power returning after lunchtime. The quiet, persistent purr of the motor coming to life again with the flash of golden light of the beacon filled the tortuous silence your mind tried to drown with the echoing sounds of the storm last night.

How must have been in the sea, the last sounds your uncle heard.

Even when you still had to check the wiring of the beacon itself, you sighed in relief. The mere thought of doing your watch in total darkness couldn’t be an option. And not only because Viktor wouldn’t be always there sleeping with you. But because the woman could chase you down this time, with the window broken.

You doubted the wood boards you nailed into the hole of the glass could help of much. And perhaps, now, you’d have another ghost join into the task to haunt you.

When the metallic gate of the lighthouse closed with a shriek, you were already regretting your decision. Maybe if Viktor were here, he could accompany you, using the townsfolk's fear of him to stop the anxiety pounding at your heart.

The treacherous dunes clung down your legs as if wanting to stop you from committing this mistake. But when you looked back at the dim light of the lighthouse rivaling with the sun’s, you knew you wouldn’t stand to return without at least saying your goodbyes.

You couldn’t do it with your mother, both because you were too small to process the idea of death, and because a funeral was just never held—with no body to mourn for, the family didn't wish to bring in the gossip of the town that had been buried after some initial police searches.

It was too late, anyway; the sandy beach morphed into the swampy area too quickly.

This will end with me. And today, after this goodbye, you were ready to leave behind your family name to hold onto Viktor’s: a fake one, just like the marriage façade you must put on, but it will allow you to start anew, as you wish.

Maybe this marriage will erase the curse your family name seemed to carry, that strange affinity the sea had to devour your kind. To wear down the hope and leave the soul raw, bare to the merciless sea.

Your boots echoed against the mud, the coast half-erased with the ravaging storm from last night. Specimens lying everywhere, observing you with their empty, dead eyes.

The same look in your uncle’s eyes, they whispered with each roll of the waves.

You looked over the mossy rocks nearby, many of them containing secret burrows for crabs, an area great to hunt them. Your grandfather would sit by the little uphill, watching you with diligent eyes as you lifted the rocks and snatched some crabs away, separating them from their family.

They were like you, and thus your childhood self couldn’t stand to let separate them, accidentally tumbling down the container when the old man wasn’t looking. It did matter, but at least crabs and shrimps weren't sold as expensive as langostas. And your grandpa invited you along despite your mishap every time.

She’s even useless for picking crabs. Your aunt would yell, turning the basket upside down as if somehow a little crab would be hiding there. I could do a better job when I was half her age!

Over the still surface of a shallow pond, you saw your reflection and thought: If could’ve done better… No, I didn’t kill him. I’m not a monster. No, I can’t be. Am I?

The funeral pyre was starting to burn, though you couldn’t be sure if the thick black smoke was the cause of your tears. A pile with your uncle’s clothes and material things your aunt didn’t want to keep around in the house were all turning into ashes alongside his flesh and bones—of what was left of him, you thought, dreary.

Maybe I am.

Better the fire to consume it rather than let the water take more of him.

As you approached, the cries became persistent, clearer. The wails echoed from the same sadness as the ones that could be heard from the cliff, though this time, the voice was much more familiar.

People all dressed in black gathered around the pyre, long veils covering their expressions as they stood still except for the wind flapping against their long coats, skirts, and sweaters. Among them, you saw the mundane, worn-out chair with the red cushion your grandfather used for dining, now with your grandma sitting there, and for a moment time froze. Reverted.

You were still a child, with hands so small the rusty bucket filled with seashells was too heavy, just as the burning sensation of the watchful gaze of your aunt as you cleaned them. A trapped child whose only life was the sea and this little hut in front of you, just like those unfortunate oysters you caught, still inside their homes that had become a prison.

Some blinked, and the sight was gone. Instead of your child ghost huddled against your grandmother’s feet against the fire, it was the body of your aunt as her cries tore the heavy, pitiful silence of the rest of the guests. And yet, despite the veil and the eyes drowned with tears, she saw you. Maybe even felt you there.

“You…” she said, her voice so low the crackling of the fire almost extinguished it. “YOU!”

The aunt stumbled to stand up, sprinting toward you with a renovated force that could only come from hopelessness and raging heartache. You ran away, the muddy soil slippery, making your aunt tangle her skirts and fall in with her grunt becoming a sob.

“You… you always take everything from me…” she wept, hands pulling away the veil covering her face as she threw it at you like the spirit of a bad omen, laying at your feet, slowly soaking in the water. “First, my sister… and then, my husband…”

Your aunt’s blue eyes were now red, streaks of dry tears tattooed on her face with new ones pouring down against her puffy, red cheeks. Compared to the authoritative and cold-hearted woman who never faltered to remind you which your place in the house was, she looked so small. So broken.

Did your mother look like this when she decided to end it all?

“I’m sorry…” you started. I’m a killer… a monster… were you?Did you even owe her an apology? Or did she owe you one?

Albeit your quiet tone, your aunt heard it, and it was like putting gasoline into the pyre.

She screamed at you, her voice raw and desperate as she dug her fingers into the mud, seizing some rocks from the shoreline.

“No, no, Zara! She’s your niece!” Your grandma pleaded, but Aunt Zara had already started to throw the rocks in your direction, her anger and grief making her miss her objective—much to your luck. “Zara!”

The mud was freezing,  letting a chill cling against your clothes as it flew with the rocks barely brushing by.

“Alyssa should have never had you! She would be still alive if it weren’t for you! MY HUSBAND WOULD BE STILL ALIVE!”

Zara scrambled around the muddy soil, fingers digging to find any rock she could, trying to lift even the heavy ones, making her wobble as if she were drunk, and perhaps she was. “You and that damned husband!”

She laughed, her upper lip curved in an almost animalistic snarl. “Damned husband, damned wife,” Zara spat. “I can’t wait for the time when you too get claimed by the sea…”

With the rest of the townsfolk watching, you didn't have any other choice than to run away, mind fogged as your inner monologue screamed how stupid were you to think you had any right to be there. That there was a purpose in your presence besides rubbing salt on a newly made wound.

You grabbed the tree trunks, disappearing into the thick foliage of the forest uphill, grabbing branch after branch to try to win a race against the dusk that was starting to bleed on the horizon. Your clothes were soaked, weighing down with mud.

Now you look like the ghost roaming Viktor’s house, your mind told you, perhaps the waves crashing into the shore. It made your blood freeze, a rock settled inside your heart. I have to return home.

Where was home, anyway?

To escape from your aunt’s fit of rage, you entered the forest, knowing that you could make a detour around the woods to arrive home, to peek toward the backyard dock.

Tree branches clung to your clothes, leaves brushing your face with the loving touch of comfort you wouldn't find with your said family, nor one you dared to ask Viktor.

In the distance, like a little dollhouse that had seen better days, you saw the little hut surrounded by bushes and low trees, a makeshift dock of mossy logs tied together with rotting rope, though the blue boat chipping off painting wasn't there.

Following the flow of water, you went further down to the abandoned part of the coastline where some settlements had been abandoned after the terrible flood that almost wiped out the whole town.

Mermaid’s tears… or mermaid’s blood, it depended on the story.

Big boulders had been smoothed out by the waves through the years, making the sand around it so slippery you must use some roots to climb down the little hill, looking among the beach, with the cracking sound of broken shells under your boots, some fragments of bloated wood pushed against the eroded rock.

And there it was, the family fishing boat, or what was left of it. With its chipped-off blue painting surface dotted with moss and barnacles—almost nothing of the blue was left, just as the little girl who painted it was gone, too, the one who thought that there was a tone of blue that could match the ever-changing hue of the sea, so the fish couldn’t see the boat coming.

Now the surviving boards of woods had been spat out by the hungry sea, satisfied momentaneously with the sacrifice, not of memories, but of lives.  

You walked slowly, not wanting to slip and hit your head with a rock, as you weren’t sure if someone would care if you didn’t return to the lighthouse—you didn’t want to think about how Viktor wouldn’t notice if you were there or not, with the beacon already turned on.

The wood was amorph and bloated by the water, but the marks were unmistakable.

At first, you thought the boat had crashed into one of the cliffsides, the impact of the wind so strong that made the fishermen tumble down and die from a concussion. But these were claw marks.

The boat had been torn apart, with dark marks of dry blood seeping into the grooves and inside the hull.

You tripped, hands grabbing the gunwale in an attempt to keep balance, though all you did was push the boat away.

Falling to your knees, the sharp edges of broken shells pierced your skin, and you couldn't stop imagining the clean water nearby starting to tint crimson red, the metallic odor of blood tingling in your nose.

What was that? A shark? A killer whale? Why were you thinking about that ghostly dorsal spine from your first watch over the beacon? What was that?

“Why haven’t I seen it again?” you muttered, standing up on wobbly feet as you inspected the boat. You were surprised your aunt hadn’t set it on fire, too, but perhaps it was cursed now. Claimed by the sea.

You knelt against the hull again, embracing the cold wood as if had been the body of your aunt, of your grandma, of your mother, if they had let you get closer. Tears prickled in your eyes, and you let yourself sob, every whimper shaking your body as if it had been torn up straight from your heart.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I’m sorry uncle…” you cried against your arm, embarrassed someone could see you like these for somebody that was so adamant about selling you off.

The wind was getting colder, navy blue taking over the oranges in the sky; today it didn’t seem like a storm would approach, but the sky could be lying, and you were too distracted from the burning sensation of the sobs in your throat to care about the breeze hitting your face, not knowing if it was spray from the tides or a drizzle.

Waves leaped lazily, receding with the new moon, a new surface of dark brown sand bared in front of you. Looking down, you started to push the rest of the boat toward the sea, where they would get lost forever. That shall be your funeral.

From between the tears, you saw a dark silhouette settled in the corner of your vision as if it had emerged from the water. Amorph, too long, too… familiar.

You looked back at it. It was the shadow of a person; their clothes were tattered, algae clinging to their limbs. The shadow then looked back at you with a pair of empty sockets. The midnight hair was glued to the skull, skin washed from its warmth with an almost blue hue around the neck and over the bloated cheeks.

“Un… uncle?” you muttered, recognizing the features albeit corrupted by the water.

The figure stiffened, and you felt its heavy glare, burning in your chest. It itched in the back of your neck as if you were surrounded. Outnumbered by death.

The beacon swept over the beach, a hue dim enough to let you see, between dangerous blinks, the ghost’s jaw going unslaked, a thick, dark liquid running down his lips into his neck, there where the otherwise normal curve was interrupted with the marks of a four-finger claw, all oozing rotten blood.

You did this to me… the rosary held in honor of your uncle mumbled, solemn voice carried by the wind. More than prayers, they heard more like curses.

Now it’s your turn.

The ghost started running toward you at full speed, a scream tearing from the bottom of your throat.

Your feet got stuck in the wet sand as you tried to run as fast as you could, the boat now getting in the middle of you two. The ghost lounged, his body pushing the wood that cracked under his weight.

You had to run with your eyes locked on him, too scared to look forward and be surprised by a cold pair of hands pulling you back. The ghost pushed the boat out of the way, the wood scrapped against the bed of broken shells as it slid toward the sea.

“Please! Please help!” you screamed, the lights in your former home all still on. But the chants never stopped, instead, with each leap away from the wreckage, the noise got higher and higher. “PLEASE!”

The hit of your back against a rock poking from the ground made you breathless, and your right leg scrapped by the surface. You scrambled on four legs in a useless attempt to surround the rock and continue your way up the lighthouse, but the scrap was bleeding too much, the hot pain not masked by the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

The ghost loomed over you, his bloated, broken legs standing in front of you, leaking a mix of dark blood and stagnant water. The blue lips of your uncle curved in a wicked grin, the flesh corrupted opening with a repulsive tearing sound.

From behind, he unveiled a rusty knife. “Now it’s your turn, child.”

Your eyes widened, recognizing the red blade that absorbed the light of the passing beacon.

It seemed you weren’t wrong about the ghosts having a liking to hunt you.

You dragged yourself away, taking a rock and throwing it at the ghost, tearing more flesh, now a black trace of blood leaving behind his every step that got almost hidden by the growing mist coming from the sea.

Your fingers grabbed a round shell, the only sizeable weapon at hand. This time, the hit landed on his forehead. The ghost scrambled backward, screaming in a fit of rage that made your ears hurt.

Standing up, you had to decide where to go, if risking climbing up the stairs knowing that the ghost could outrun you now that you had an injured leg and with the ever-present danger of tripping down amidst the darkness.

It was too late when you tried to climb the stairs, the ghost already at your heels. Throwing yourself at the beach, you fell into a tidepool, the freezing water clinging to your bones.

The ghost followed, his feet standing close to the edge of the water, yet not daring to step on it. It leaned toward you, knife grabbed in one hand as his teeth gnashed. It wasn’t coming closer…

You closed your eyes, hands curved in a makeshift bowl, deciding to throw some saltwater at him to see what occurred.

The water splashed away the algae, revealing the blue skin underneath, spotted with moss and other fungi. Then, the features started to melt, skin peeled like the old wallpaper that covered the lighthouse before you came into the picture. Beneath your uncle's face were the decrepit features of the woman from the window.

She leaned toward you despite your best efforts from sliding away, the shells and rocks clinging to your clothes, to keep you in place. The same black eyes oozed stagnant water, like tears.

"Don't tell me you don't remember the face of your dear mother, my dear daughter?" She said, the loose bones of her neck snapping when her head lolled to the side at an unnatural angle.

… Mother? “N-no, no…”

The same predatory smile. If it weren’t for you, your Alyssa would still be alive… Was it loathe what you evocated in your mother, even after her death?

“Is that so?” She clicked her blue tongue. “Disappointed in me. Well, it’s of no use. The feeling is mutual, darling.” The woman raised the knife, looking at it with an almost bored gaze. "I think it's your turn to pay the price of your freedom."

“No!” You rolled away, the edge of the knife whistling in the air near your ear. Saltwater flooded your vision when you crawled toward the sea, where the waves started to sway in an infinite of blackness.

“Come here, child… You can’t escape from your blood!” she yelled, her hands trying to seize your ankle, hissing when the upcoming wave touched her skin. The ghost’s nails drew four red lines across your leg, taking ahold of your boot until you could shake it off your feet.

The cold clung to every bone in your body, each kick and armful becoming lethargic due to the pull of the chill of the autumn sea. You knew you’d die from hypothermia if you didn’t get to nearby dry soon, but the ghost stayed by the coast, just in the boundary of the beach, watching.

Looking around, you decided to swim toward the cliff—in a stupid attempt to climb through one of its faces, or at least fade trying. The ghost rolled her head, dark hair covering one of her eyes, and yet, her glare burned at your back, hands shivering from both cold and fear once you grabbed the rough surface of the rock.

Your breath heaved as if trying to call for Viktor. Would he hear you? Would he come? But no, you didn’t wish to put him in danger with this vengeful ghost nearby.

Between the watch of the lighthouse, you saw a hole carved in the rock, with only a foot of the entrance submerged in water. Maybe there could be a crevice big enough for you to fit until morning. A shiver ran down your spine at remembering that pale dorsal spine. You didn’t wish to be in the hunting range of that creature.

Huffing your condensed breath in front of you as you took a good handler in the rock to pull yourself up, toes scrapping the vertical rock as you crawled inside the pitch-black cavern, deeper until you couldn’t see the ghost that had remained still by the coast.

With no light, there was no way to rummage the passage, but… there, in the distance, was a dim purple hue. Buzzing. Calling.

Looking back, you saw the ghost walking toward the edge of the cliff, where the ground disappeared into the water. Her green dress got soaked, and she screamed in rage when she had to stumble to her back, the open wounds in her legs surrounded by a thick black smoke reeking of rot between the salty marine air.

You decided to follow the light, trying to run away from the stench that made your eyes cry and your stomach turn.

Each step echoed in the hallway of the cavern until the lull of the sea was but a faint lull inside the chamber bathed in purple light coming from the carving runes in the walls. Dusty books lay on shelves made in the rock. Freeze in time, in a sacred place you shouldn’t supposed to be.

Peeking around the convex chamber, you saw another well of darkness at the center of it, a small yet seemingly bottomless pool that smelled strange, not like sea per se, though the salt was still perceptible in the air, but the ambiance was heavy, mixing dry flowers and other essences like burning candles. It smelled… old.

What was this place?

[marshallpupfan]

New Marshall Merchandise #57... or #32... or #29, I've Lost Count!

You know, I started posting these updates a few years ago, back when many of my followers were curious about anything I added to my collection. Some of them have gone quiet, possibly moved on or lost interest in PAW Patrol. I'm not sure if my current followers have any interest in these updates. At this point, I just post about these now because I enjoy showing off new items of my favorite character. 😇

And new items, I indeed have! Many of these I've collected over the last month or two, as finding new items hasn't exactly been too easy lately. Most major stores are still selling Jungle Pups and Mighty Movie toys, so hopefully anything new will pop up soon enough. Despite that, I have managed to find a few interesting things!

I first found out about this little figurine when it popped up on Ebay, but nobody would sell it without the other pups (Chase, Skye and Rubble... sadly, no Rocky or Zuma). Someone on Twitter told me they seen some at a Dollar Tree, so of course, I tried checking all the stores I have near me. It took a while, but one finally got some in! Best of all, it's only $1.25, so that's cool!

Hey, you know what else is cool?

Accidentally finding another piece of merchandise I didn't expect to see! I'd actually seen one of these on Ebay earlier the same day, but I thought it was a part of some set. Much to my surprise, Dollar Tree also had it, and also for $1.25. It's not the most impressive of the bath squirters I own, but I'm still happy to add it to my collection!

Ha, look at the label! Chase, Marshall, Skye... and Zuma! Well, it makes sense, given he's the water pup, but I still didn't expect that. Nice to see him on a label for once. :)

I'd actually seen pictures of these online a few times over the years, although they were typically branded as Christmas candy. I never could find any at the stores near me, but then a friend said she seen some at Walgreens. I searched around and finally found one... the last one they had left, in fact! Score! And yeah, I likely won't eat it... it'll sit in my collection along with that other Easter candy I got. lol

...huh, I just noticed it's cracked around the neck. I don't think it was like that when I bought it. Guess I somehow did that. Oops... but it still looks cool, right? Maybe I can find one to replace it when they show up again next year... if they show up again next year. 😅

I seen this at a garage sale for $1. How could I say no? Besides, just look at Marshall on this thing! Too cute, as always! 🥰

Actually, this was yet another lucky find, since I've seen these on Ebay for like $10 (with $5 shipping or so). The fact it's practically in perfect condition is also quite awesome. Living in a small town has it perks!

Last, and it's the priciest item today. I seen this while helping my folks with their shopping at Walmart. They had a few, but they were all Marshall. I wasn't going to get one at first, due to just how big it is, but my mother knows I collect practically anything of Marshall, so she bought it for me. Indeed, I'm already having trouble finding a spot for it, but no doubt I will... eventually... along with the other items on my table. Remember my last few updates? Yeah... most of those items are still sitting there, too. I'm running out of room! lol

That's all for now! I actually do have a few more items coming in the mail, so I'll have a few more things to show off soon enough... Valentines plush dolls, in fact. Ones I expected my local Walmart to get, but they never did. Otherwise, a friend of mine in the UK has offered to send me something I believe is only being sold in her country, so I'll get to add another imported item to my collection soon! I always love doing that, so I'm looking forward to getting it!

As for the Rescue Wheels toys, I've no idea when they'll show up. Maybe in June? July? Whenever the USA finally puts the episodes on their schedule. Now that I think about it, they'll probably be the last toys based on the original designs, huh? All future merch will likely use the new style. We better enjoy it while it lasts, I suppose.

[redheadspark]

Massive Heart

Summary - Druig takes Melody to the farm, bringing her a sense of peace.

Author's Note: This is part of my Melody Series, please go check it out! Also, a special shout out to @a-lumos-in-the-noxlumos-in-the-nox for giving me the idea to write this little oneshot!

Warnings - none, just some fluff :)

“Alright, here we are,”

Druig hopped out of the truck and slammed the door shut, leaning back a bit to hear some of his back cracking from sitting for a bit too long.  It was almost a running joke from his wife, sweet Clío calling him an old man when he would squint after stretching his back too much to the side.  He technically was old, and when he would point it out to Clío she would just smile and roll her eyes as she walked away.  Druig never minded it, not when it came to her.  But he knew mentally he would gave to get a new truck, one with a better seat that wouldn’t be stiff on his backside when he would have to take it to work.

But today was not about work: it was about Melody.

Just as he promised a year ago, Druig wanted to make Melody his priority at least twice a month.  He and Clío made sure that they would carve out time to be with her, every other week seemed reasonable since Melody was busy with school and they both were busy with work or caring for the boys.  That talk did help both Druig and Clío, more than it helped their daughter, and Druig made sure he would have some time with her.  He would call it their “Duo” time together, though Melody would proudly say they were going on a date.  There was even one afternoon when Druig picked her up early from school to take her out for ice cream and a trip to the library, one of Melody’s favorite things to do with him.  She skipped down the sidewalk, her friends seeing her from the playground during recess as they waved goodbye.  Melody waved back.

“Bye!  I’m going on a date with my Da!” Melody would holler before she would hop in the car.  Druig blushed in embarrassment for a split moment, but he never minded it with his daughter. 

This outing was different though, and it was all Melody’s idea.  She came to Druig talking about wanting to plant her own garden, learning about planting seeds and vegetables in school, and wishing to have her own little place to grow her own garden.  She remembered the herb garden Druig and Clío had in South Dakota at their old farmhouse. But to have one only for her to use was now her new obsession.  Druig thought it was a wonderful idea, yet he had no idea where to start.  What kind of herbs or flowers could grow in Oregon, and what kind of soil that was needed, it was all a bit overwhelming.  But there was a local farm on the outskirts of town that sold seeds and had some farm animals that were available for the public to see and visit.  

Druig knew that would be perfect for Melody.

So Druig took her on an early Saturday afternoon, Clío thinking it was a great outing for the pair of them as she was putting the boys down for a nap.  At first, Druig volunteered to stay behind and be with the twins, but Clío could see Melody wanted Druig to take her.  With a wink and a kiss on the cheek, she pushed them both out the door.

“Wow!” Melody breathed as she walked around the truck to be next to Druig, instantly taking his hand in hers.  Her eyes were big on the scene in front of her: a white barn with massive white doors that were slid open, a corral that was lined with white fencing on the left side with a few horses grazing along the wildflowers, and a quant little general store next to the main house on the right side.  There were a few other cars there, and some people walk around or eating at the picnic tables near the orchard trees.  The weather was quite warm so it was no surprise the farm would have customers.  

“I think we’re in the right place, don’t you?” Druig asked as he looked down at Melody.  He was taken aback for a moment, noticing that she was rather tall now and her long hair was thick and down to her mid-back.  She was sporting her overalls, a new pair that he had to get her since she grew out of her last ones, a yellow blouse, and well-worn sneakers.  

Around her neck was a gemstone necklace, the very gift she got from her Godmother the day she was born.  Clío kept it safe throughout the time Melody was a baby, tucking it away and knowing one day she could wear it.  On the morning of her ninth birthday, with Makkari’s permission, Druig gave her the necklace wrapped in a little box with a small golden bow on top.  Melody was enchanted with the necklace, wanting to wear it right away and calling Makkari on FaceTime to thank her personally.  The only rule was that she couldn’t wear it to school or to anything that would be strenuous, just on special occasions or on down time.  Melody took it to heart, promising to not let it leave her room.  

Druig would see her wear it from time to time, and it would make him remember how time was a thief.  One minute she was a small little thing, wrapped in a blanket and calm in his arms.  Now, she was a nine-year-old girl who a massive heart and huge independence that she got from her parents. 

It took Druig’s breath away for a moment, realizing that she was growing on him before he could stop it.

“Do you think they have cows here too, Da?” Melody questioned him as they both started walking together over to the general store, “I want to see a real one!”

“I’m sure they do, Petal,” He replied as they walked along the dirt path, “The website says they do, along with some chickens, lambs, and goats,”  

“Goats are a bit mean, though,” Melody advised her dad, Druig chuckling, “At least that’s what Tommy says at school,”

“He might be right,” Druig agreed, “I remember one time a goat tried to hit me with his horns, right in the stomach,”

“How rude, Da!” Melody said with a gasp.  

“Eh, it’s like you said: they’re mean and a bit grumpy,” Druig commented as they made it to the general store.  He made his way over to the cashier there, asking a few questions about the seeds that were meant to be planted in Oregon and the kind of soil he would need.  Melody was listening half of the time, but her eyes were moving around in the store at the rows and rows of seeds that were on display.  Naturally, her eyes then move to the side door that was wide open, giving a big image of one of the corrals that were out in the field.  Within a second, she saw the very animal she wanted to see.  

She slipped her hand from her father’s walking over with her eyes fixed on the eye animals that could her attention.

Druig, after talking to the cashier for a few minutes and seeing her slip away to get the seeds he needed, looked around for his daughter to see where she wandered off to.  Melody was never one to run off on her own without her parents close by, that was more of a Finn trait.  Oliver and Melody were homebodies, wishing to stay close to a parent at all times.  So Druig didn’t need to panic, he just had to look at her.  Sure enough, he saw her sitting on the ground in front of the white fence of the corral, her head between the beams, looking at one cow who was laying down right in front of her.

He grinned.

Walking through the open door and standing behind her for a moment, he watched her in silence for a moment or two.  The quietness of the area brought the mood down and made it calm and soothing.  Druig loved seeing his daughter use her abilities on animals, an ever growing discovery and mystery.  Ever since it was discovered she would hear animals and speak to them, both Druig and Clío have kept a close eye on their daughter. Even though Arishem was no longer in the picture, thanks to Druig and his mind control over the Celestial, Melody’s ability was still a shock to her family and extended family.  

Thena was almost certain she was an Eternal like her father and mother, the signs were there and her ability to communicate with animals was beyond extraordinary.  Yet she had to learn to harness her ability, whereas Druig and Clío never had to.  It was going to be a long journey for her, and her twin brothers could also have abilities too.  

He finally moved over to kneel down next to Melody, her blue eyes were right on the cow as she was sitting Indian Style on the dusty ground.  Druig could see it, almost sense it, when Melody was talking to an animal in her mind.  Her eyes were solely on the cow, nothing else to break her concentration.  It was the same look he would give when he would use his mind control, so he knew her mind was working hard.

“Whatcha doin’, Petal?” Druig asked very softly, his breath almost like the wind as he looked from Melody to the gentle cow, who was perched on the grass and looking at Melody.

“Talking to her,” She replied, her voice sounding determined as her chin was on the fence and her fingers were grazing at the paint on the fence post.

“What is she tellin’ ya?” Druig asked, indulged and intrigued by what was going on with his daughter and the massive gentle animal.  

“She’s happy here,” Melody explained, a small smile on her face, “Her baby is sleeping in the barn and she loves playing with her, she’s a girl cow,’ Druig had to grin in hearing Melody talk about the conversation she was having with the gentle animal, knowing how authentic she was in how she spoke and what she’s speaking about.

“She’s safe here, Da.  She used to live in a place where they were mean to her and other cows, but the farmer here rescued her and brought her here to be safe and happy,” She paused, biting her lower lip for a moment and scanning the cow with her eyes.  Druig did too, almost wanting to read her mind and hear what she was thinking since Melody did look rather perplexed.

“Da, why are people mean to animals?” Melody asked in a somber tone.  Druig hummed, scooting a bit closer and rubbing the back go her shoulders with his knuckles in a soothing notion.

“I don’t know, Mel.  I honestly don’t, and I wish I knew the answer to that.  The way I see it,” He passed, Melody tearing her eyes away from the cow to her father as he scanned her eyes, “You can tell a lot about a person with how they treat an animal. I find the gentler, kinder people, are the ones who are good and kind to any creature, no matter how big or small they are.  Animals bring out the best in a person, and we should look after them since they were here long before we ever were,”

Melody grinned at him, then looked back at the cow who got up from laying out on the ground, giving out one huff from its massive nostrils before walking to another spot in the corral to graze some more. Yet Melody still watched the gentle animal, her eyes never leaving as the cow was clearly moving on.

“You have a massive heart for animals, Petal,” Druig said to Melody as he pushed away the brown strands in front of her eyes, “I don’t think I know anyone who loves animals as much as you, and that shows you have a good heart.”

“I just wanna help the animals who get hurt,” Melody huffed, sounding stubborn as Druig felt his heart swell in pride, “Especially the ones who people hurt for no reason,”

“And you will,” Druig reassured her as he kissed the side of her head, “I know you will when you get bigger.  You remember that little sparrow that you helped when you were younger?”  

Melody nodded her head silently, though a small smile was on her lips.  It made Druig nudge his head with hers to make her giggle.

“I knew then like I know now: you’re gonna be great helping animals,” Druig promised her, “You’re gonna make me and your mom proud, and you already are,”

Druig loved having these smaller moments with Melody, always taking them to heart and never wanting to forget them for a second.  He has seen civilization rise and fall throughout the centuries, empires conquer and collapse in a blink of an eye, Druig has seen it all.  Yet even after seeing the vast amount of human accomplishments and evolution, he wouldn’t trade any of that for what he had now.  

He would live this simple life with Clío, raising these children he never thought he would ever have as an Eternal, and he would never regret it.

Druig and Melody went back into the general store a few minutes later to get the supplies that Druig ordered.  It was a handful of seeds and two big bags of soil. He even slipped in a few flower seeds that he knew both Melody and Clío would both love to plant together.

After he paid and got the supplies in the bed of the truck, he noticed that once again Melody was not with him.  He was about to go look for her again when he heard her voice off near the porch of the main farmhouse.  Walking over, he was ever curious as to what his daughter was up to since they were done with their task for the day.  But what he saw made him crack a smile.

There was Melody, perched on the front porch steps of the farmhouse, with a little German Shepard puppy in her lap.

“Ah, you must be her dad,”  the farmer said as he walked over to where Druig was, a massive grin on his face.  Melody looked over, almost panicking from seeing her dad watch her as she was about to get up.

“I’m sorry, Da—“ She was about to apologize, but Druig shook her head, stopping her before she would wake up the puppy who was fast asleep in her lap.

“You’re okay, baby.  Looks like you made a friend,” Druig said to her, Melody grinning as she looked back down at the small puppy in her hold.  The puppy looked content, floppy ears against her arms as he was nuzzled in her lap and curled up in a deep nap.  Melody was calm, stroking the top of his head with her gentle and soothing fingers and having a small smile on her lips.

“Your daughter has a good intuition with dogs I think, if you don't mind me saying,” The owner of the farm explained to Druig, “We just had a litter of puppies a few weeks ago, and most of the other puppies have been claimed or sold.  He’s our last one,”  

“He’s sweet,” Melody cooed at the sleepy puppy, the owner chuckling as he nodded.

“My wife and son think so too, and he’ll make a great addition to a family with kids.  Calmer than the rest of his litter too, more relaxed than the usual puppy.  If someone doesn’t want this little guy, we’re gonna raise him,” He said, then looking over at Druig with a raised eyebrow, “You don’t happen to know a family who would love a puppy, would ya?”

Druig instantly knew, and a small smirk was there on his face since he knew he had to talk to one person first.  Melody wasn’t paying attention, her eyes were back on the puppy who was still asleep in her lap and she giggled from seeing him kick in his sleep.  

“Can I take a picture and make a call?  I think I know someone who would be perfect for him,” Druig asked, the owner nodding as Druig took a quick picture of Melody snuggling the sleeping puppy.  Druig then excused himself, walking down the steps and out of earshot to start his phone call.  He had the plan all in his head, but he also wanted to have Clío on board.  He had tried to plan something behind his wife’s back in the past, long ago before the kids were in the picture.  Clío was always kind-hearted and would go with the flow, but Druig did step on her toes every once in a while.  This would be different.  Druig knew this would work, and it was all because of his nine-year-old girl.

“Hey Darlin’,”

“Hey!  How’s It going out there?  I thought you guys were coming back by now?”

“We are, but I have something I wanna ask ya.”

No more than an hour later, Druig was driving back into town with the radio softly playing and the soft wind coming in from the truck's open window.  Druig kept his eyes on the road, though he had a quick moment to look over at the passenger side and felt his heart swell.  

Melody was watching the scenery roll by, with the very puppy perched in her lap and watching the scenery too with his tongue sticking out.

The End

Tagged - @basicrese @heartofwritiing @heliosphere8 @virtueassassin @hottpinkpenguin @botanicalbarnes @vinvantae

[nomorerww]

I made literally zero friends that first year. As the new girl, I was an easy target, and people mocked me for everything from my acne to one very traumatic accident involving my period, which I didn’t know was coming until it had seeped through to my cafeteria chair. Offering me a maxipad in public became kind of a running joke among some of the popular girls. I started to hate everybody, and I latched on to their outward appearances as a symbol of how terrible they were, not even realizing the obvious parallel between my attitude about them and theirs about me. In my teen-angst-riddled mind, their preppy, pastel-hued, homogenous clothing choices were expressions of their bland, homogenous psyches. At the time—this was 2000—I didn’t know there were blogs or internet communities where I could share my frustration with like-minded teenagers across the world. My parents were pretty strict, and I wasn’t allowed online, except occasionally for schoolwork. So I took my angst to the only hang-out spot available to a 15-year-old in Westerville: the mall.

I had never heard of Hot Topic before I saw that disobedient red font standing out among the sedate logos of all the other stores, daring me to walk through its sewer-pipe-style entrance.

I took up the challenge, and was immediately enchanted. First, there were the employees: to someone who couldn’t find even one other misfit at school to share my weirdness with, they were downright inspirational. I especially remember the manager, Jody, in all of her deathrock glory: artfully destroyed fishnet tights; platform boots with buckles numbering in the dozens; pin-thin, meticulously drawn on eyebrows. I aspired to dress—and live!—with that much creativity someday.

The next thing I noticed was the wall of officially licensed band tees that spanned genres from pop-punk to hip-hop to thrash metal, and they sold CDs and vinyl, too—it was literally a subculture supermarket, and in Westerville, that was nothing short of a miracle. Without internet access, it wasn’t easy for a sheltered suburban kid to discover a band like NOFX—I didn’t have an older sister to tell me about them, or an effortlessly cool friend, or a great local record store (I can’t even remember there being a record store, beyond Best Buy).

I was ecstatic about what I bought during that first excursion: a white button-up with a pre-attached red-and-black tie with safety pins in it. What did I know? I hadn’t even heard of thrifting, and anyway, I would never have thought to put those elements together myself. Hot Topic did the thinking for me, and I welcomed the help. The store was a guiding light, leading me through an assortment of options for my new, disgruntled identity.

Was I a punk? A week of listening to Punk-O-Rama: Vol. 6 quickly disabused me of that notion. Bad Religion’s “I Want to Conquer the World” is an objectively great song, but nothing about the music really resonated with me. (I loved compilation CDs—there was no better tool for figuring out what I liked.) Was I a metalhead? For a while, sure. I flipped through a magazine at the store—I can’t remember the name of it now, but it was like Tiger Beat for hard-rock enthusiasts, featuring interviews and pull-out photos of Otep and Korn. My late freshman/early sophomore years were spent plastering my bedroom walls with posters of Kittie and obsessively phoning Total Request Live to vote for “Falling Away From Me.” I wore giant band tees with wide-legged JNCO jeans, and a spiked necklace that I never took off, not even in the shower. During that period, the caustic rage of this music was my only solace from the loneliness and boredom I experienced in my school and my town; I headbanged alone in my room to “Paperdoll” and felt like Morgan Lander was speaking directly to me.

By junior year, though, not even lyrics like “Now her soul is dead / Now her body’s raw / WASH AWAY HER PAIN” could save me (nor, indeed, wash away my pain). My anger congealed into a dark depression, and even though by then I had a couple of friends at school and even a boyfriend, I struggled with self-loathing. My mom and I fought all the time. She didn’t approve of my wardrobe or my interests, and I suspected she might be reading my journal, which made me stop writing in it. Each day became just something to get through.

Maybe it sounds strange, but the only thing that made me feel better was finding a sartorial aesthetic that perfectly expressed my inner sadness. I figured if I was living with these feelings, I might as well revel in them. During my regular visits to Hot Topic, I was drawn to clothes that were comfortably confrontational, like Lip Service’s fishnet tops and corseted dresses and Tripp NYC’s bondage pants. I fell in love with a dress I wore to the homecoming dance—it was maroon with black lace, gesturing toward a romantic melancholy.

I didn’t realize that there was an entire cultural scene based on the kind of gloominess I was feeling—had been for decades, in fact. I don’t know how I came into possession of the Cure’s Disintegration—maybe I heard Marilyn Manson mention it in an interview, or found it among Hot Topic’s stash of Good Charlotte CDs, underneath the display of Joy Division T-shirts. But that album was exactly what I had been searching for. When Robert Smith desperately sang/shouted, “It’s easier for me to get closer to heaven / Than ever feel whole again,” I heard my intense longing for something in his voice. I immediately went to the record store in Columbus, of which Westerville is a suburb, to buy the Goth Box, which introduced me to bands like Christian Death and Alien Sex Fiend, and I grabbed hold of my new identity and ran with it. I wrote long poems on my LiveJournal, channeling my pain into gibberish that made sense only to me: “Tenderize the rarest bones and die / But let the grass grow where the flesh meets the sand.” I wore all black—black clothes, black nail polish, black eyeliner—and whenever I saw someone similarly attired we’d make eye contact for a split second, and it felt like a secret handshake, like I was less alone in the world.

When I turned 18, I started going to Outland, central Ohio’s biggest (only?) goth club, where I could dance all night to Sisters of Mercy, Queenadreena, New Order, Crüxshadows, and Adult, in a room full of poeple who looked and felt like I did. I had finally found a community. I made friends, I moved out of my parents’ house, and I felt less isolated and depressed.

Sometimes I’d run into Jody, the old Hot Topic manager, there. She remembered me from the store, and even though she probably knew I bought those clothes before I knew what they were trying to signify, I never felt like she judged me as a “poser.” Not everyone is savvy or self-assured enough, especially in high school, to know exactly who they want to be, nor how to be that person. I was, I don’t deny, an average suburban white kid looking for entry-level subversion, and Hot Topic supplied it. And for that I will be forever grateful.

[artykyn]

hiiiii sorry to bother you again but uh... homemade vegan dark chocolate?? Would you mind ruining me on that please?

HA okay recipe time

*Disclaimer: I've done this so much that I might have skipped over random stuff, or said something that makes sense to ME but to no one else. Feel free to reach out for clarification on anything.

Super long post!

Ingredients

Cacao butter, cocoa/cacao powder, sweetener of choice, little pinch of salt, little bit of vanilla, little bit of instant coffee

Cacao butter -- note that people use this as both a food ingredient and a beauty ingredient and you want the stuff that's food-grade and safe to eat.

Cocoa/cacao powder- "cacao" means it's raw and "cocoa" means it's processed, if you were curious. Pick whichever you like, but the source you choose affects the flavor of your chocolate. Cacao tends to be slightly more bitter and cocoa tends to be slightly sweeter. If you have a local chocolate shop in town, I highly recommend buying your powder from them! A store that specializes in chocolate products tends to have great cocoa/cacao powder.

Try different kinds of products and learn what you like! I often use Dutch-processed cocoa powder.

Sweetener- Lots of options.

Brown sugar, white sugar, whatever you pick. It all affects the flavor and you can experiment and discover what you like! I will say that powdered sugar usually makes my chocolate come out smoother than granulated sugar. Some brands of powdered sugar are processed with bone char though so take care to check for vegan brands.

Honey is also a great option that makes chocolate even smoother than with sugar, but I'm sure agave would be a good substitute for vegans. I haven't used agave personally since it can cause health problems so I usually go for powdered sugar for my vegan chocolates.

Vanilla- I usually use a dribble of vanilla extract. I want to try vanilla sugar sometime though 🤔

Instant coffee/espresso powder- Coffee naturally intensifies the chocolate flavor! 😃 Try putting a teaspoon of it in the batter next time you make brownies or chocolate cake.

Special: Add in whatever else you want for flavor. Mint extract. Cinnamon. Anything. This is YOUR CUSTOM HOMEMADE CHOCOLATE!

Instructions

Tools: stove, table/work area, a saucepan and a glass or metal bowl (for a makeshift double boiler), digital thermometer, rubber spatula/spoon (DO NOT use metal or wood), measuring utensils of choice depending on how much you're making, tea towel, whatever you'll be pouring your chocolate in or on

A good ratio to start with is 1 part cacao butter : 1 part cacao/cocoa powder : 1/4 part sweetener. The more experience you get and the more you taste-test and figure out your preferred bitterness/sweetness/flavor, you will form your own ratios. Salt and coffee are a couple pinches, measure with your heart depending on how big your batch is. About a teaspoon of vanilla extract is appropriate but you will learn to measure that with your heart as well.

Raw cacao butter is usually sold in big chunks. I like to put those chunks in a bag and get a hammer to SMASH them into smaller chunks, for better measuring and melting.

Note that chocolate is SUPER FINICKY about moisture! It does NOT LIKE WATER. Make sure that your tools are all clean and completely dry. Wash your hands before working with food, of course, and then make sure your hands are VERY DRY.

BEGIN

Put your cacao butter, sweetener, salt, vanilla, and coffee in your bowl. Put a little bit of water in your saucepan, maybe an inch deep, and put it on a low simmer. Put the bowl over the saucepan like a double boiler (don't let bottom of bowl touch the water).

If you're using any extra ingredients for flavor, add them in at this step, too. Whatever you do, do NOT add liquid ingredients (like mint extract) after the cacao butter is already melted. This beginning part is the only time you can add liquid ingredients. But you could add solid ingredients, like spices, later on.

Monitor your chocolate. If you're not noticing any melting of your cacao butter, start ticking up the heat a bit at a time until you start to notice some slow, gradual melting of your cacao butter. Do not start high and then turn it down, you don't want it to melt too fast.

Stir regularly to avoid getting any "hot spots" and trying to get the cacao butter to melt evenly.

Once all your cacao butter chunks are melted and the mixture looks smooth, check your temperature. Your goal: between 120 and 130F (50 to 55C). Keep stirring until you get there, might take a little bit. Might need to tick up your stove temp slightly.

Wipe your thermometer immediately after each time you check the temp because otherwise the chocolate will solidify on it.

When your temperature is in range, take it off the stove. Wrap the bowl in the tea towel and place on table. Gradually stir in your cocoa/cacao powder.

This is the point when I'll start taste testing. Is it chocolatey enough? More powder, maybe a little more salt. Is it sweet enough? More sweetener. Is it too bitter? I might add more cacao butter and put it back on the stove.

Your goal at THIS point is now to let it cool to about 82-84F (28-29C). Sometimes I have a bigger bowl of cold water that I will dip my chocolate bowl into, to chill the bottom, like an inverse double-boiler (double-chiller?). Or you can just be patient. Just be sure to keep stirring it. Doesn't have to be perpetual, tbh. Make some tea for yourself, give it a stir every couple minutes, but be very careful that you don't take too long between stirring that the chocolate at the edges of the bowl starts to solidify.

Once you've hit your cooling temp, put it BACK ON THE BOILER! Yup. Now you heat it up again! Not too long this time. Just to about 90F (32C) and then take it off again.

The final step, easy mode: let the chocolate cool a little in the bowl. You don't want it to be super runny, but you do still want it to be pourable. Lay out a big sheet of parchment paper on your table and slowly pour the chocolate all over it. Now you've got a big chocolate puddle on your table. It'll cool and harden and then you can break it apart into pieces. I usually make my chocolate in the evening so it takes all night to get fully set.

The final step, fancy/hard mode: have some molds to pour your chocolate into. Depending on how careful you're being/how long that takes, you might need to put your bowl back on the saucepan a couple of times to try maintaining the chocolate in the upper 80sF (low 30sC) while you're still working with it. Transferring a little chocolate at a time into a smaller container so it's easier to pour into the even smaller molds might be a good tactic, but whatever you choose for your intermediate container, pre-warm it. Let it all cool and harden for a few hours, ideally overnight.

Pouring tricks: if at any point you think you screwed something up and the chocolate seems a little chunky, run it through a strainer.

Storage: DO NOT put chocolate in the fridge. Cacao butter tends to absorb the scents and smells around it, which will come out as part of the flavor. You got onions in your fridge? Now you have onion-flavored chocolate. Just keep it in a bag or nice little container on your counter.

Congrats! You made some homemade chocolate!

[dian-morey]

The Cat Who Came Back: a tale about how a shared love can bring people together.

Haru always took care of the local strays. Jun always despised her for doing so. It was only because the cats lingered by his shop. Day in and day out he’d shoo them away, but promises of canned fish brought them back. Mr. Moon berated Haru every time she dinged the store bell (but still sold her the fish, business was business after all).

Until one day, Haru didn’t come in. Nor the next, nor the next. The cats got weary, but so did Jun. He took to feeding the ones that remained, begrudgingly. Though, a particular calico seemed to disappear with Haru.

The girl returned, having had to leave town for a personal matter, absolutely chuffed that the cats were cared for in her absence. But where did her favorite, the calico she dubbed Pierogi, run off to? Will the unlikely duo bond over what’s missing, or will lines be drawn that not even toe beans can cross?

@moon-yeongjun @princess-haru-chan

[advrik]

The Switch Era

So I just finished watching Arlo's latest video about the Switch. You know, the console that not only helped him but also several other personalities get off the ground over the past six years?

I watched this, and I was reminiscing about my time not only with the console itself but that nigh unbearable level of hype that led up to the console's release on March 3rd, 2017.

I recall getting up at 6am the day after the first Nintendo Switch presentation to go hang out outside of the local Gamestop to wait to be the first inside to get a pre-order on the basic grey console. But only after I had stayed up 'til 3am the night before to also pre-order a console on Amazon, along with the Breath of the Wild special edition and the Zelda amiibo (along with a few accessories).

Now at the time, I owned a Wii U and a PS4 but seldom touched either one for reasons of their main purpose. I wasn't playing games on them. I had grown to dislike playing games on my television at the time. I was focused heavily on playing my 3DS while I played a movie on my PS4 or had Youtube going on the Wii U. I was having a falling out with console gaming, and boy was it a hard fall. The Switch was the final straw for me to grasp and hold onto the one hobby that had been with me all my life.

And then launch day came. I took the weekend off from work and just played Zelda and Bomberman the whole entire time, entirely in handheld mode.

And you know what? I was revolutionary. To have something that looked and played like Zelda: Breath of the Wild in the palm of my hand was H-U-G-E at the time. Especially stepping up from the 3DS.

Combined with just the general overall hype surrounding the console and the increasing resurgence of Nintendo in the general gaming space, it seemed at the time that gaming might have been saved for me, and that handheld may have been the trick.

Over the span of the console's biggest years, I amassed close to 100 physical games for the Switch and well over 100 in digital form. I collected all kinds of accessories from grips to an assortment of Joy-Con colors, carry cases, and decals. You name it, I probably had. I even managed to snag the New York Nintendo World Store launch press goodies like the pin and lanyard.

I played primarily in handheld mode because it allowed for comfort and didn't strain my eyes like playing on my TV would, as it was pretty far away from my bed.

Now I have always said that the sole reason I buy Nintendo consoles is always - ALWAYS - for Animal Crossing and that everything else was just extra, and that was especially true.

For the span of time between the launch of Animal Crossing New Horizons(and the beginning of the ongoing pandemic), my Switch was an Animal Crossing machine only. I played nothing else. Amassing 100 hours in the first week alone, and I also took an unpaid week off work for, which was probably one of the best weeks in recent memory. (Well, up until this past month when I flat out told the abusive manager at that same job that I was quitting this past month, but that's a different story for another time)

I went on to document my first year with New Horizons in my 'Welcome to Brickhedge' video series on Youtube, something I plan to rewatch and reminisce over very soon.

So now here we are, the day after the Switch officially went over the hill as far as console lifespans go and the world is eagerly awaiting to see what Nintendo plans to do next and if a more powerful version of the system is in the cards or not.

Where do I currently stand?

Well, I no longer stan the Switch like I used to. Over the past month, I sold off the majority of my non-first-party titles. Several sets of Joy-Cons, the Pro Controller, and even my Animal Crossing-themed console. As Arlo said in his video, the excitement just isn't there anymore. The Switch isn't as exciting as it once was, not because the novelty of a portable console has worn off, oh no. Having that kind of power in your hands is not going to be exciting to me and is what ultimately saves the hobby for me.

The Switch feels extremely outdated now in its capabilities, and with the recent rise of the Steam Deck and other portable PCs, outside of first-party stuff, playing my Switch just isn't as enticing as it once was.

Enter: The Deck

I picked up a Steam Deck last month because I was simply tired of not getting to play major third party releases. Cloud versions were not acceptable, and the often time longer wait time one had to endure for a Switch version to drop (coughFinalFantasyPixelRemasterscough) was no longer cutting it.

The Steam Deck feels, for me at least, every bit as exciting as the Switch was when it launched. Being able to play current releases like the Resident Evil 2 remake and Star Wars: Jedi Fallen Order in proper handheld form is so amazing.

And don't even get me started on the crazy emulation capabilities of this beast.

I have maybe picked up my Switch twice since I bought my Deck. But that isn't to say I've completely abandoned my Switch, as I have yet to still pick up and play Bayonetta 3. I also away the launch of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom and the upcoming Pokemon Scarlet/Violet DLC, but beyond that? There's nothing the Switch is offering that I can't already get on Deck.

Will I get the inevitable Switch successor when it comes out? Absolutely, but I think I will wait until the next Animal Crossing game is announced before I do so. I've been spoiled rotten by all that the Deck can do, and I hardly believe Nintendo would willingly put out anything half as open and capable as this device.

In closing: I loved my Switch and I will always, always look back on the time I spent with it fondly. It was great to see Nintendo on top again after Wii U tanked them and their name, and I hope whatever they do next can recapture the dimming light the current Switch is losing.

[lolathelotus]

The Scott Family

Scott Family Home, Windenburg

Sara Scott

Simon Scott

Eloise Scott

Amara Scott

Charlotte Scott

Remi Scott

Rounds 1-3 Summary:

Sara and Simon Scott were happily living in Henford-on-Bagley as owners of the local pub, The Gnome's Arms, at the start of Round 1.

They were a new couple who had chased Sara's dreams of running a pub in a small town all the way to Henford, and the two were determined to see their business succeed.

They were even more determined to start growing their family.

Things were going well at The Gnome's Arms, and Sara and Simon decided to try to have a baby.

Sara gave birth the next year to Eloise, and the couple was thrilled to have a child.

This was when the economy in Henford-on-Bagley started to go downhill. The Scotts worked extra hours at the pub to maintain enough income to cover their expenses, but like everyone else in Henford, their bills began to pile up.

Sara found out she was expecting, and little Amara was born later that year.

Despite the obvious signs that things weren't going to get better in the small country town, Sara and Simon remained convinced they would somehow make it through this financial crisis without losing their business or their home. This optimism was crushed when Lavina Chopra sold the grocery store in town and moved away. She was Sara and Simon's only supplier of the food items Sara used in the pub's kitchen to make dishes to serve to the patrons of The Gnome's Arms.

At this same time, Sara and Simon received some shocking news - they were expecting another child. With two small children at home already, they had no idea how they would manage financially with one more member in their family.

This was when the Scotts started looking at other options for their family. With Sara 8 months pregnant, the couple began looking for towns that had more opportunities than Henford did.

They found a bar for sale in Windenburg called The Old Quarter Bar, and the town seemed like a really good fit for the family. They also found a beautiful home in the Windslar neighborhood of Windenburg that was big enough for their growing family. It was even big enough for the Scotts to grow even more.

While in the middle of the move, Sara gave birth to the child's third daughter, Charlotte.

The couple finished their move, and opened their bar after spending quite a bit on renovations. The Old Quarter Bar was an instant success. Windenburg had a very active nightlife, and the Scotts never had a lack of customers. Even a slow night was a good night.

Things seemed back on track for the family.

Eloise, Amara and Charlotte were thriving in Windenburg, and it was joy for Sara and Simon to watch the girls grow up day by day.

Sara and Simon decided to have one more child, another daughter that they named Remi.

Links:

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[lathrine]

im very slowly working on the next couple chapters of my fic, bc life hit me like a fucking train (and also i Immediately wrote myself into a bit of a corner, but we’re figuring it out) and like honestly? my favorite part abt writing a toh human realm fic is getting to play in the New England Sandbox :’)

its the little irrelevant things, too, like! i wish i had a reason to send the kids to, like, stop and shop or shaws, or the thrift store camila takes them to in TtT which is DEFINITELY savers. and im absolutely tickled pink that the canon gravesfield library is a big old school brick building bc i ALMOST went that route in NIEnUQ and then veered into “an original house from the 1600s that was only renovated because it fell into the swamp at one point” which is EQUALLY common for Historic New England. and ofc the run down shack is OBVIOUSLY the wittebane’s old home but for my fic i am sold to the concept of the wittebane’s house being meticulously kept and preserved as a walk through museum that’s Part Of The Town history.

i know they have a local cafe bc thats where edalyn caused chaos but in my HEART camila does a morning dunks run for everyone

[kaitothefirst]

May 11- Azabujuban Part 2 and Washinomiya

For my first free day, I decided to focus solely on visiting anime sites that I had always wanted to see in-person. Although I went to Azabujuban (the Sailor Moon district) yesterday, I did not have the time to fully explore the area, and the local shrine featured in Sailor Moon, Azabuhikawa Shrine, closed as soon as I arrived. Being the eternally obsessive fan that I am, I decided to go back so that I could take my time and fully appreciate all the sites that were featured in the anime and manga. This included the shrine, a shopping area, two nearby parks, and a small statue.

After I thoroughly took my time in Azabujuban, I prepared to make my way over to Washinomiya in Saitama to visit Washinomiya Shrine. This shrine was featured in Lucky Star, which is another anime that I have loved very much since I was young. On the way there, I gained a new appreciation for the way the train system works in Tokyo with trains arriving every 5 minutes. Apple Maps gave me false directions and I ended up having to use one of the station maps while I was already deep in the less urban area of Saitama. Waiting 20 minutes for the next train to come caught me off guard, but I was patient and found my way to still have plenty of time in Washinomiya. The town itself appeared to be used to people such as myself, as the first thing seen when stepping outside Washinomiya station is a dagashi candy store with a plethora of Lucky Star posters in the windows. Even walking to the shrine, I saw a decently sized Lucky Star mural on the side of a building that looked very out of place in this rather quiet town filled with rice fields. The shrine itself was beautiful with lots of open space and little trails built into its bordering woods. Most of the ema had drawings of Lucky Star characters, but, unlike the Sailor Moon shrine, there was no clear embracing of the anime by the shrine itself (which is understandable as its cultural significance is more complex than a slice-of-life anime). However, just outside of the shrine gate, there were banners hanging from streetlights featuring Lucky Star characters and an oden shop that sold exclusive Lucky Star shrine merchandise (which of course I bought one of everything). After coming back to Yushima, I was exhausted, so I treated myself to a nutritious Big Mac and Coke float and just hung around for the rest of the evening. I feel like I really made the most out of my free day, going to places that I only dreamed of visitng before studying abroad.