#plush: joyce

[lovelylovekitten]

Guess who came just in time for the holiday season 🎄☃️

A Gingerbread Puppy! This is one of those webkinz I've wanted for awhile but never could get because it's so rare and the ones I could find were too expensive. But finally I snagged this girly and I love her. Her name is Joyce ❤

[frank-en-stitch]

I made my buddy @haileybirdart’s Monkey Wrench OC Jexa for her birthday this year, she’s a snail and she’s an alien and she’s a snailien and her head is too big for her tiny ass neck so it flops over a lot but Hailey loves her so that’s what matters :)

[jpasionr]

These two were a bit late to the welcome party... Joyce, temporarily a mermaid, for the rest of this month after recovering from shark week aka pms. But, their eldritch hair is still excited to be here and get the silly t-shirt for Joyce’s Leo!

inspired by @zinzabee ‘s @tmnt-ocxcanon-comp promo post

[collectivecloseness]

Just scored an Eddie Munson plush toy, who now can join my Robin and Steve plush toys in my bed. The only problem is I don’t have a Nancy plush, and I don’t want her to feel left out 😭

[emchant3d]

They say Captain Munson has a gift. That he’s blessed by a god’s touch.

His ship has survived every battle. His crew flourishes with bounty, with health and good fortune. He steers them unerringly through every storm, sailing directly into the gargantuan waves, into the lightning and rain, and comes out the other side pristine while other vessels would have been sunk, snapped and splintered on the ocean floor, crew turned to ghosts to haunt the waters.

They say he made a deal, sold his soul, sold his crew’s souls, will find his reckoning one day at the end of a sword or drowned in the sea he loves so much. They say he’s a devil of his own, that his eyes glow red and black and his teeth are sharp and fanged, nails clawed, that he slaughters innocents and bathes in their blood.

But the truth is much simpler. Captain Munson is no devil, he did not sell any souls, and he certainly isn’t blessed by any god.

Captain Munson fell in love.

He didn’t mean to. When the fishing nets are reeled in that fateful day he expects nothing more than a few meals, a couple pounds to send to the kitchens for Benny to work his magic with. He isn’t even on deck when the catch is brought in.

It’s Gareth’s frantic voice that draws him upwards, his shouting and knocking on his cabin door that has him strapping a sword to his hip before taking the stairs two at a time to see the threat.

He’s expecting a King’s ship. Maybe another pirate. 

He isn’t expecting a mer.

Pale, unconscious, bleeding, sprawled on the deck, plush and soft and gorgeous, tan torso tapering down into a huge, shimmering tail. He’s breathing but it’s shallow, weak, a shell on a necklace moving faintly with each hitch of his chest.

And the crown. A simple circlet, golden and shining, tangled in his chestnut hair, gems glinting from the locks.

Mers are mythical, believed to be stories by some and history by others, but Eddie grew up hearing the tales of them every night from his mother, and the evidence is right in front of them - how can they do anything but believe?

It takes three of them to move him below deck. Eddie grips him under his arms, Gareth supports his hips, and Jeff wrangles his tail. They take him to Eddie’s quarters, the only bed big enough to fit him.

He wakes in stages, delirious from pain, snapping teeth and swinging claws when he has the strength for it and slurring rambling words when he doesn’t, head lolling on the pillow, eyes rolling back. 

His injuries are strange - a band of dark bruising around his pretty throat, his back shredded, bites taken out of the dips of his sides and the meat of his tail. There’s sickness in him, but Joyce is patient. She patches him up, soothes the mer’s fever and stitches the wounds she can, bandages what she can’t, keeps it all clean, keeps it wet because apparently that’s what he needs - salt water, which makes Eddie cringe in sympathy, but only seems to ease the mer’s pain, not make it worse.

It’s a week before those pretty eyes blink open with genuine awareness in them, sharp and wary. Eddie’s taken to sitting at the mer’s side, feels a strange responsibility to him that he doesn’t want to look too closely at, and he glances up from his journal to find the other’s gaze locked on him.

“Where am I?” he croaks out, and Eddie smiles, snapping the journal shut.

“You’re aboard the Hellfire, sweetheart. Captain Eddie Munson, at your service.” He bows in his seat, and it goes over about as well as he thought it would.

There’s a lot of threats and snarling and cursing, but Eddie simply leans back, out of the mer’s reach as he crowds himself into the corner of the mattress, back pressed to the wall and sheets tangled around his tail.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he tries to soothe, and the mer scoffs. Eddie can’t blame him for his caution, but he tells him the honest truth - where he was found, the state of him, how they’ve nursed him back to health.

The mer’s hand hovers over one of the nastier wounds at his side, covered in gauze, dampened with saltwater. When he cuts his eyes back to Eddie there’s a little less animosity in his gaze, and Eddie will take what he can get.

Eventually he pulls a name from that snarling mouth. Stephan. “Prince Stephan,” he begrudgingly admits once Eddie points out the crown that he’d gently worked free of his hair. 

And he’s a mer, but different.

“Siren, is what I believe your kind calls mine,” Stephan says, “half and half. Mer and human.” 

“Human,” Eddie muses, and Stephan confesses, warily, haltingly - he’s the King’s bastard son. Born to King Richard of the land and the Mer Queen of the sea.

“And how did the Prince of the Mer find his way into my net, hm?” Eddie asks, smiling, and Stephan rolls his eyes at him. 

He’s a runaway. King Richard had come looking for his son and with his mother’s blessing Stephan abandoned his title, his home, because the King would find him eventually if he stayed, and whatever dangers he might face in the open sea would be nothing compared to what the King might use his gifts for.

“Gifts?” Eddie asks, and Stephan smiles, his pointed teeth glinting.

It’s a clear day, not a cloud to be seen, no sign of rain or bad weather. And yet as Steve begins to hum softly, a shadow crosses overhead. 

It happens slowly. Stephan’s voice builds, a wordless little melody, something melancholy and soft, and the sky beyond the windows of the cabin darkens. Thunder rolls and in the distance, Eddie can see a crack of lightning.

The ship rocks as waves begin to form, the once-smooth water taking a turn. Eddie can hear the crew above deck begin to shout to one another, confusion building, growing more insistent as Stephan’s song grows, and Eddie’s stomach drops.

The siren’s voice is haunting, terrifying. Eddie’s frozen in place, meeting his eyes even as tears well in his own. He’s transfixed, can’t move, can’t speak, paralyzed with some ancient, instinctual knowing of danger, of death.

Eddie does not scare easy. But this is terror personified. This is the true threat that lives in the sea. Not the waves, not man, this. This creature who smiles at him with sharp teeth and a haunting voice, reaching towards Eddie with a clawed hand, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear in a touch that makes Eddie’s skin crawl and his heart skip and dread sink into his very bones.

He’s staring death in the face, and death is smiling.

Then Stephan quiets, and it’s over as quickly as it had begun. The sky clears in moments. The waters calm. The vessel’s heaving calms, and Eddie’s spine unlocks.

He stares at the being before him, amazed, before a slow, brilliant smile breaks over his face.

“Full of surprises, aren’t you, Prince Stephan?” he asks, and gets a smile in return.

“Call me Steve,” he tells him, and fondness begins to worm its way into Eddie’s chest.

“Then call me Eddie.” He sees Steve’s eyes flutter, and he tilts his head. “You’re tired,” he tells him, and gets a huff in response. “You’re safe here, Steve,” he tells him, and he knows he doesn’t trust him, not fully, not yet, but that’s okay. “Rest. I’ll keep an eye on you.”

Steve watches him warily, but clearly the little display has worn him out. His hand finds that same wound on his side, cradling it carefully, back shifting like it hurts to sit up straight and stretch all that marred skin.

“Lay a hand on me, and I’ll eat you,” Steve warns, and Eddie snorts a laugh. 

“Whatever you say, highness,” and he tugs the sheets back into place over that large tail, and lets the mer get the rest he still clearly needs.

part 2 💕

[novashelby]

Love in a Bookstore-Cillian Murphy x Reader

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader Warning: None-pure fluff Word Count: 1.2k Summary: She works in her Aunt's small book shop tucked away in a quiet street of Dublin. He frequents, but quietly and hardly speaks to anyone. Hiding away under his casual beanie and oversized jumpers, the only thing she knows about him is the type of books he chooses.

Please feed your writers with comments. We are hungry chonks.

He was pretentious in the books he read. Always going to the section of the bookstore unspokenly reserved for those who drank their coffee black. Black coffee books are what she called them. Jokenly, of course, insinuating that no one with so much as half a brain actually enjoyed black coffee. Bitter piss, it was. Much like the coffee he drank, the books he read were a good starting point for how to look sophisticated even when no one is looking. Perhaps she was too judgy because she hated coffee all together and was quite a sucker for a classic, no matter how dry or wordy.  

He’d often come in at noon during the work week when the shop was at its quietest. He’d entertain the front selection, nibbling at his thumb in thought. Doing that little lean back thing, eyes squinted, his finger would skim over the titles before plucking one off the rack. The silence would break because he’d always do this thing with his thumb. It’d tap as he read the book and when he decided it was less than worthy to bring home, he’d put it back. Always, always slightly tilted. Such a routine action, she was almost certain it was a defect in his personality. 

Never rude, but never over extended. When he’d make his way to the artsy shelf, he’d look over just long enough to catch her eye and give a little old fashioned tilt. And because it was so very much customary, she’d offer a typical, “some weather, huh?” Even on the days when the weather was just fine. 

Men are nothing but creatures of habit. Surfing through roughly eight books, he’d always land on the books tucked in a far hidden corner or the books being swallowed by bigger titles. Sometimes they’d be drawn out life stories, occasionally poetry collections of dead poets, or once in a while, a good old fashioned contemporary…by your contemporaries. Tucked away in a little spot sat a plush, velvet holstered chair with slight wearing along the seams. Surely a chair old enough that James Joyce himself sat in. He’d fucking love that, wouldn’t he? He’d take his selected book and read the back, his smile always twitching up. But before he could ever make a final decision, he had to fan the pages and smell the edges. Only then would he take it to the chair and read, if she had to guess, twenty pages. 

And to not be so suspicious, when she’d hear that chair creak and his sigh, she would focus her attention on fumbling with the drawer. “Just this,” he would say, not unkindly. Ringing him up, they’d connect eyes for a short little moment. She’d smile and he’d nod, and it’d all be just so mundane. But she often found herself liking this mundane. This often repetitive, non special mundaness. 

So much so that one day, she wanted to break it. Found it so overwhelmingly curious that she wanted nothing more than to shatter its confines. Before his next anticipated visit, she paid extra attention to the section that smelled like him. She felt weird thinking about it, but it did. It was always this familiar scent of vanilla and some type of wood, and it always lingered. Thinking to herself, she grabbed a book that read familiar to the others he enjoyed. A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara. A mix of all those heartbreaks, soul crushers, and stomach turners. It was perfectly cathartic. A good purge of emotions that’d make you either feel renewed, enlightened, and thankful or depressed and sick, but better for it. There was no inbetween. 

She followed his habit unknowing that it was a habit of her own; fanning the pages, smelling the edges, holding it close to her chest. After flicking the closed sign and turning off the front lights, she walked in dance to the back to that James Joyce old chair, and sat. In her delicate cursive, she wrote on store embossed paper: Some books aren’t meant to walk through, but stumble. With this note, I add a tissue for your reading pleasure. You will need it. With that, she put it at the end of the shelf and tilted it askew, as if to say I’m calling you. 

She wasn’t expecting much, really, and so when the next day came and he picked the book, she felt her heart skip a beat. Like she had done, he sniffed the pages and cradled it to the chair. The note hadn’t fallen out until he sat. Smiling, she watched as he looked at the tissue. Slight disgust, putting it on the coffee table. But when he unfolded the note, eyes skimming over her words, the silence broke with a soft chuckle. That day, he didn’t need to read ten pages to decide whether or not he wanted to buy it. Smiling to herself, she looked away, dusting the till. 

A few moments later, he put the book down and said, “you enjoy this book?” 

Looking over her shoulder, she pretended to take a moment to read the title. “Oh, yes, I read it a few summers ago. Something like a heartache and stomachache, but you don’t really mind either.” 

He laughed, digging in his back pocket for his wallet. “Well, someone seemed to like it enough.” He put the money down and gave her a nod before walking out of the store. She watched him walk until he was no longer visible. That’s when she looked down at the counter and noticed the tissue folded within the bills.

Unwrapping it, it said: I like a good stumble sometimes. Coffee?

The next book was There, There by Tommy Orange. And just as before, after closing she wrote a little note. Good, because you won’t be getting up after this one. Maybe…how do you take your coffee? She hugged the book, feeling in love with the pages. Never did anywhere feel like home except a bookstore or library. Just anywhere where the walls were stories and escapes. As she went to put the book on the shelf, she paused, and turned. Looking at the coffee table, just as old as the chair and probably where James Joyce has his black coffee, she decided otherwise. For he hadn’t needed to skim the titles, she placed it there, askew with a note peeking out. It was waiting for him. 

Like clockwork, he came in and did his browsing. To her dismay, he picked up a book from the shelf and took it to his spot. Skimming the pages, however, he placed it on the arm rest before taking a moment to look out the window. Right next to him rested a book. She watched as he spotted it and quickly disregarded everything except the note. Rushing to hide behind the rotating rack, pretending to organize the random postcards, she waited for him to put down the money. There was no need to ring him up-she knew and he knew what it was. When the familiar ding let her know he left, she rushed to the counter. 

Except there was no money, only a note. 

Black. 

Her smile cracked and she snorted, “of course you would….” 

 And PS, if you want the money for the book, meet me at the cafe up the road. The one where pretentious people like us go. You know the one.

And she did. She knew the exact one.

[hippielittlemetalhead]

Never Took The Time (To Forget) part 5: Man Of The Hour

Life is mildly less sucky with depression being more managed (also the mood boost from Renaissance Faires 😁) and my weekends being free again for me to travel to see my person. Still full of dumpster fires but I want to scream about it less. Also, been in feels very similar to the ones that inspired this whole endeavor so... enjoy?

Anywho, here's part 5! Enjoy, my little nerdlings. As always, feel free to yell at/with me in the comments, tags, reblogs and/or ask box. If you see any mistakes feel free to message me about them. 😬👌

Part 1: Hop Fucks Up, Part 2: Pride and Prejudices (Joyce Edition), Part 3: One of Us, Part 4.1: With A Capital P, Part 4.2: Robin's Boy

Steve Harrington was an odd duck. That's what his grandmother always used to say. She would pat his already proudly coiffed hair as he hung off the arm of her rocking chair and tell him as much whenever his parents took him to visit. He would beam at her with his big (reportedly pinchable by every aunt and grandmother in the family) cheeks and quack at her before cracking up at himself like he told the funniest joke and she would let him laugh until he rolled himself off her armchair to the plush carpeted floor. She would laugh and reach way over the arm of her chair to poke his stomach or cheek or nose, sometimes just his little forehead, before leveraging herself up out of her chair and taking herself to the kitchen to boot his mother out of it. Steve Harrington was a certified 'odd duck'.

Steve isn't sure, as he sits in that old rocking chair he had stolen liberated from his parent's house when he moved into his new apartment, when he became whatever he is now. He slowly rocks himself back and forth, the chair creaking a little as his weight shifts. The kids and other teens are chattering on the walkie but it's nothing too pressing, just nonsense and junk food emergencies, Mike cursing out Hop. His ribs hurt and his nose is sore but it doesn't feel like anything is broken. It sucks he knows what broken feels like. It sucks that Robin is kind of mad at him for getting hurt enough Owens pulled rank and had him dropped off at home and assigned someone to be the Party's chauffer for the rest of the day. It sucks that all the kids have their own plans tonight, leaving him to try and find ways to keep himself distracted without their usual insanity. A lot of things just kind of suck these days.

He feels himself smiling and picks up the walkie to confirm that he was alive and resting like ordered when he hears Dustin bickering with Robin about invading his apartment to check on him. That doesn't suck he supposes. He knows Robin and the kids care and he knows that eventually the soldier tasked with driving his hellions around is going to be bullied into driving them to see him, other plans be damned and the thought makes him smile.

The smile drops when he hears what sounds like a soft knock at his door. It's too sharp to be Widow Bea two doors over who leans on her walker and kicks the bottom of his door with her soft leather slippers that belonged to her late husband when she needs him to fix a cabinet or mix batter for whatever pastry she was making that week. And it's not the distinct pattern of Clara Damon from down the hall who will come and tap at his door to ask if he has an extra cup of sugar or spoonful of flour as she bats her eyes at him simpering about how she's making cookies or a pie or a casserole of some kind and inviting him to dinner with her and her folks to have some. He's always got an empty pantry and a surplus of plans when Clara Damon comes knocking. He and Widow Bea have standing poker nights with the other older ladies who all meet at the recreation building.

(It used to be the Harrington house. But his parents decided to sell to prove a point when they up and kicked him out and Owens needed a place to set up a promised recreation space and the gym was already a relief supplies warehouse.)

But the knock at his door isn't either of those. It could be someone else in the building. Could be one of his neighbors who have started to associate Steve Harrington with fighting mutated wild dogs caused by government experiments gone wrong and hauling around kids who seemed to cheat death and holding I.O.Us signed by the U.S army instead of the absent Harrington socialites who are known for swanning into town, flaunting their wealth and making themselves scarce again. The ones who he can sometimes hear whispering about him as he makes his way down the street or through Melvald's.

The knocking comes again, louder this time and firmer. It could be a lot of things and he doesn't want to deal with any of them.

Steve sighs, it could be important. He gets up to answer the door, breathing slow and shallow and letting himself lean on walls as he makes his way to the door. A third round of knocking and he's starting to get tired of it. He takes a slightly painful breathe to call out to whoever is trying to knock down his door to calm themselves down when, "Hey kid, Harrington, you in there?" That stops him a foot from his door.

His ribs hurt and his nose is sore and his leg is throbbing where a demodog got a lucky swipe on the meat of his thigh. But nothing is broken. His leg will be fine in a day or two. He hates that he knows what broken feels like. He hates that he knows what infected feels like. He hates that he knows the stone in his stomach and the clenching vice around his lungs has nothing to do with his injuries. His ribs scream at him when he pulls himself as tall and straight backed as he can, shifting himself so his weight is on his good leg and he can (hopefully) use the hallway wall and doorframe to support himself long enough to talk to Hopper and send him on his way.

He opens the door with a smile and feels himself falter a little when he sees Hopper standing there in a big tan canvas jacket and baseball cap and he's reminded of the times the older man would show up on his parent's doorstep with the same look on his face asking questions Steve didn't always know how to answer.

"Hey, Hopper." His voice is light and smile wide and loose and he just needs to keep this up. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

"Heard you got a bit banged up on a patrol?"

Steve shrugs. It takes more than he'd like to hide the pain that causes. "Just a couple bumps and bruises, nothing I can't walk off after a decent night's sleep. Owens is just paranoid these days, ya know."

"Owens huh?"

"Uh, yeah? That's who told you right? Cause I took a couple hits?" Hopper doesn't say anything, just looks at him with something that Steve might have once thought was concern about his potential injuries. He doesn't know why today of all days Hop decided to show up cause he got knocked around a little more than planned but it doesn't bode well when something in his face shifts and he lets out a tired sigh. "Oh, but don't worry!" That came out louder than he intended. "I'm totally fine. Like I said, I just need to walk it off and I'll be back out there in no time. You don't gotta worry about a thing, I've got it handled. Like I said, Owens is just overreacting. Nancy can cover for me tomorrow and then I'll be right back on the roster I promise. You and Mrs. Byers don't have to worry about a thi-"

"Steve. Shut up." He feels his jaw snap shut, the edge of his tongue and inside of his cheek getting caught in his teeth. "I didn't hear it from Owens. The kids told me. Owens knows you're hurt?"

"Uh, ye-yes sir. He's the one who sent me home. Gave the kids a detail to transport them and keep them protected while I'm out of commision. One officer to drive them around and they're being tailed by at least 3 others in case anything happens."

"Four soldiers just to replace you?"

"Oh they're not in that much danger! I'm perfectly capable of watching them usually, its just that Owen's guys are still kinda green even this deep in. Most of them just can't wrap their heads around the whole 'other dimension stuck in 1983' side of things." Hop's eyebrows shoot up under the bill of his cap. "But again, it's fine! I always take point whenever we go into a new sector and those guys are good as backup at least."

"But you're hurt." His eyebrows have come back down but now they're furrowed like he's confused or upset.

"Just a little!" He is not making things better. "I swear Hopper, you guys don't have to worry about a thing. I've got it handled, you don't have to-"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Harrington! Just shut up!" Steve flinches back, stepping further into his doorway as Hopper yells. The older man sighs, a big hand coming up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He tries not to think of the times Robin and the kids have made fun of him for doing the same, calling it one of his 'dad poses'. "Look, I didn't come to try and give you shit about getting knocked around a little being stupid and playing soldier. I came to- I was going to ask." He sighs and his shoulders slump a little forward and his eyes are focused on the toes of Steve's (very comfortable) bat slippers that had been a gift from Wayne once the kids had told him Steve had been the one to drag Eddie out of the Upside Down. "Did you want to come over for dinner?"

Steve doesn't think he heard him right. "What?"

"Joyce is making some sort of spaghetti casserole-"

"Isn't that just baked spaghetti?"

"And we wanted to have you over. We haven't talked much since I came back. I'd like to change that."

"What?"

"You, dinner, at our place? With me and Joyce and the kids? I think Jonathan is bringing Nancy." Steve flinches and Hop silently curses himself bringing up the ex who cheated on him and the guy she cheated with.

"Why?"

"Uuh... Talking?"

Ah, he had it now. "What did the kids do? Just, lay it on me man, and I'll take care of it. Did they say something? I can have them over tomorrow and talk to them. Was it Mike, it was probably Mike, I'll get him to apologize, just-"

"Goddamn it Harrington I just wanted to ask you over for some dumbass spaghetti casserole thing and a decent conversation. Maybe watch a football game cause no one else in that house seems to enjoy a good game."

Steve isn't sure what's happening. "You want me to come to dinner. To talk?"

Hop sighs again. "Yes, kid. Just. Dinner and talking."

"Uh huh. Right. I'm just- I just need a minute." He tries not to slam the door in the man's face but he's definitely trying to be as fast as possible. He's not sure what the hell is going on but it has to be something because Hopper wouldn't just invite him over. And Joyce Byers definitely wouldn't want him in her house for something as simple as a talk and to watch football. It takes him longer than he'd like to reach the walkie on the little side table by his grandmother's rocking chair. His ribs are screaming at him and his elbow smarts from banging it on the corner as he turned into the sitting room.

"I need some sort of backup at my apartment. Like now please?!" He waits a second before pressing the speaker button again, "Over."

The walkie crackles and he hears an assortment of concerned chatter. "Steve?" Dustin's voice breaks through the general din. "What's the problem? Over."

"I- I'm not sure how to classify it? I've Got Hop at my front door but I think there's something wrong with him? Or something is trying to trick me it's him? Oh shit did I get Vecna'd??"

"Steve," Nancy snaps, shutting up most of the chatter and giving his rising panic something to focus on. "Why do you think it's not Hopper? Or that he's not in control of himself?"

"He- He invited me to the cottage for dinner?"

"What?"

"Yeah just dinner and talking? And that- that's weird right?"

Nancy sighs and Steve hears Hop say something from outside his apartment. He's running out of time. "Why is that so weird Steve?"

"Cause he doesn't like me. And Joyce really doesn't like me." He feels like that's obvious. "They don't like me and they're busy with other stuff. They wouldn't willingly ask me over for dinner and football or some shit so something has to be up."

"Seriously kid?"

He doesn't scream as he drops the walkie-talkie, spinning around to face the voice behind him.

"You're calling an emergency cause I invited you to dinner?"

Again, he feels like this is obvious. "Yes. I don't know what happened but we're going to fix it Hop, I promise. Or, like, if you're something controlling Hop or wearing his face or some shit I will figure it out and I will find the most painful way to kill you."

Hop runs a hand down his face again, he's going to have so many wrinkles after this. "Fucking Christ, kid. Is it so crazy that we wanted to try and get to know you? Make sure you're fed and taking care of yourself since apparently Owens isn't making sure you're alright?!"

What the fuck?

"Yes!" That seems to make Hop take a step back. "I tried for years to try and get the slightest acknowledgement from you! I've spent the last year taking care of the kids and monitoring the gates and fighting Powell and Owens every time they decide to try something stupid and almost get their men killed cause I realized you never meant it!" God he can hear his voice breaking and feel the tears starting to roll down his face. "You never meant it. But you meant it for El and Will and fuck, even Jonathan. And they deserved that. They needed you and you couldn't be there if you and Joyce were fighting with Owens and-" He can't hold back the sob that rips out from deep in his chest. "And I don't- I can't- I just-"

"Hey, hey kid. I need you to breath for me. Okay? Can you just let it out in one push and take a deep breathe in."

There's a large, warm hand rubbing up and down his back. His running nose is throbbing, his sore ribs are probably cracked now from how tightly he's folded in on himself and his injured leg feels wet like he pulled the stitches when he dropped to his knees on the threadbare rug. There's a deep rumbling voice talking to him, telling him how to breathe and asking him to sit up, let go of the walkie he can hear crackling as people call his name and ask Hopper what's going on. It's all just too much.

Why?

"What was that, kid?" Oh. He didn't mean to say that out loud.

"Why?"

"I fucked up. I'm trying this thing called owning up to my mistakes." Steve lets out a wet laugh that turns into a pained groan when it shakes his ribs. "Come on, let's get you up here." He tries not to cry out when Hop lifts him up from under his armpits, pulling at his ribs, but he knows he lets out a sharp whimper. "You fuck up your ribs?"

"What do you think?"

"Yeah, dumb question." Hop chuckles self-deprecatingly. "Look, let's get your ribs wrapped and we'll get you down to the hospital to get checked out an-"

"No. No hospital. Can't do 'em."

"Kid you need to get looked at and maybe some pain meds and antibiotics while you heal up."

"No fucking drugs." Steve practically growls, his teeth clenched and eyes burning as he stares up at Hop. "I'll take your fucking antibiotics but I can take a couple of ibuprofen and call it a day."

"A couple of- What the fuck, kid? You can barely walk and you're telling me you're not in serious pain?"

"I've had worse."

"Bullshit." The kid winces and the look on his face closes off. "Stop trying to be a hero and just admit you need help." Steve rolls his eyes.

"I'm fine, Hop. I've walked off worse."

"Again, I call bullshit."

"You know how thorough our Russian friends could be."

"What?"

Steve shrugs, an angry grimace on his face. "Once you live through Russian military questioning and hiking through Upside Down Hawkins, most everything after that's a piece of cake."

"Jesus Christ-"

"I don't think saying his name is gonna make him listen to ya now."

"Ya ain't cute, kid."

Steve gives him the same smile he always did whenever Hop crashed one of his 'King Steve' parties. "I'm adorable." He chuckles at himself and Hop finds himself laughing along at the kid's attitude. "What do you want, Hopper?" Steve's voice is quiet. It wavers in a way that tells him the kid is sad and hesitant and tired and Hopper can feel something niggling at the back of his mind. "You come over out of the blue asking me to dinner with your family like that's something we do. What the fuck man? What are you trying to do?"

"Like I said kid: I realized fucked up. Bad. And I'm trying to fix it."

"That's it?"

"Yeah. Yeah it is."

Steve leans back, the rocking chair leaning farther back than Hop feels comfortable with considering the kid's injuries but he manages to not rock back so far he falls. "Alright then. So what do you need?"

Hop can't follow this kid at all and he's not sure when that happened. If it's always been like that. "What are you talking about kid? You're the one that's all beat up." His mind goes back to swollen eyes and bruised knuckles covered in a rainbow of haphazardly placed bandages being fussed over by a group of dirty but uninjured kids. Bloody sailor uniforms rounding up rowdy kids without a mark on them despite obvious injuries and a slight limp and what might be bruised ribs. Bandages being removed to expose red raised around a strong neck that looks like someone took barbed wire to it and bulky bandages poking out from beneath stolen shirts. "What are you talking about what I need?"

Steve lolls his head to look at Hopper. For the first time all evening his eyes are trained on the older man unflinching and not anxiously darting away. His smile is more a resigned grimace. "What do you need to get Robin -and I'm guessing the kids- off your back?"

"It's not just because of them."

"But it is because of them."

"I want to make this right."

"It's not yours to fix, Hop. I've made peace with that. Thought I'd made that clear to the rest of them."

"I thought the kids didn't know."

"Not about you being my emergency contact and like, in charge of making big medical decisions if they couldn't get a hold of my parents. But that you'd stop by the house to make sure I hadn't like drowned washing my hair after I took a beating. That I put more stock in that than I should have."

"You were right to put stock in that stuff Steve. Fuck, if I knew anyone else in that situation I'd assume they'd basically adopted you. It makes sense."

Steve shrugs, wincing less this time. "That's life, can't fix it now."

"Will you let me try?"

"I mean. I'm giving you a get-out-of-jail-free card here man."

"And I'm not taking it."

"Well. It's there, whenever you decide to take it."

"Thanks but no thanks, kid."

"Hey, your choice Hop. Ever get tired of the boardwalk just say the word and it's yours. Do not pass 'Go!'. Do not collect $200."

"Monopoly, really?"

"My head may have gotten a knock too. Not a concussion but I'm a little... swimmy."

"Swimmy?"

"Uhm-hmm"

Hop chuckles, "You're an odd duck, kid, you know that? An odd, pain in my ass, duck."

Steve feels his face splitting in a wide smile that pulls at a small cut on his lip and lets his head fall back, his body finally starting to come down from the adrenaline rush that has been this entire interaction.

"Quack quack."

Tag list (I think this is everyone?)(If you see this post and your tag didn't work let me know cause they don't always work for me Idk why):

@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth @dead-cherry-bitch @irethsune @ink777 @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner @ledleaf @pansexuality-activated @paintsplatteredandimperfect @kinryuuki @yikes-a-bee @altocumulustranslucidus @ohimamarigold @samsoble @sensationalsunburst @xxbottlecapx @y4r3luv @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas @rootbeerandmusic @vinteraltus @wonderland-girl143-blog @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @steddie-as-they-go @steveshairspray86 @youdrewstarsxaroundmyscars @i-amthepizzaman @wormapothacary @croatoan-like-its-hot @maya-custodios-dionach @ineffable-monster-romancer @asquareinverona @ellietheasexylibrarian @pukner @bookworm0690 @nightmareglitter @joekeerysmoles @salchica @lawrencebshoggoth @iheartjennaaa @child-of-cthulhu @anaibis @rocochen20 @katdeerly @samcoxramblings @fiore-della-valle

[lythpomme]

steve harrington blurbo

gn!reader (i believe), friends to lovers, snowstorm happenings, steve the serial dater (...)

unedited, dialogue heavy. just needed to write something and get it out to bring me back into the groove. (IVE NEVER WRITTEN A KISS SCENE GOODBYE) i do apo;logize if the ending is rushed! ~1.3k

the crackle and warmth of the fire relax your muscles, allowing you to sink further into mrs harrington's plush carpet. you hear steve’s gentle footsteps down the stairs. you stare up at the popcorn ceiling, shadows of the fire entertaining you with a dance. mussed chestnut hair makes its way into your peripheral, steve tilts his head in question, “don’t tell me you caught a cold too.”

you close your eyes as you shake your head, “nah, i wore my jacket and scarf the whole day. she doing okay?”

the ‘she’ in question being robin, fast asleep in steve’s bed. a thermos of chicken noodle soup and ibuprofen on his bedside table. steve nods, and sits next to you, knees pulled up to his chest. he rests his forearms on them, “yeah, out like a light as soon as her head his the pillow. i was lucky enough to be able to put a blanket over her body,” he scoffs, not so much annoyed as he is amused, “like fuckin’ dead weight, i swear.”

you laugh softly in response, nudging his foot with your elbow, “y’check her pulse?”

steve rolls his eyes, teasingly poking the dip of your waist. touch gentle and playful, never harsh or rough. a beat passes as you both relish in the comforting heat coming from the hearth. crackles of firewood fill the living room. the glow of moonlight against snow brings the memories of the day back to you. sprinting out of family video to close shop early due to the weather. sledding with the party, making snowmen with el and will, robin sacrificing her scarf and toque for them. defending said snowmen from max and lucas, competing in an ‘all-out snowball war’ as declared by mike. eddie running away from hopper, who was bringing joyce’s infamous apple cider.

a smile rests on your face, genuine content filling up your heart. steve pokes you with his socked foot, “whatcha smilin’ about?”

“the snowstorm, gave us a chance to goof around with the party again.”

“oh, yeah. best day ever. finally scored a date with michelle too.”

you open your eyes, “oh right.”

the fire crackles and steve continues, “i mean, her taste in movies is kinda meh. but that’s just a little bump in the road, yanno? if she’s the one.”

you sigh and sit up to face steve, and you really get to see him now. face half-illuminated by the orange glow of the fire, cozied up in a random wool sweater. honey-coloured eyes viridescent in the moonlight. “you know, you really don't need to be concerned with finding ‘the one’ so fast.” his brows furrow in response— you continue, “its just that, you’re so hyper-focused on finding love that you aren’t able to see it's all around you.”

steve sighs softly in frustration, “you know that’s not—”

“no, i know. but i mean, in general. you keep looking for the type of love that’ll complete you, or make you feel complete. you’re draining yourself.”

the golden glow against his face flickers, the fire crackles as if it’s telling you to feed it. steve blinks, he diverts his gaze from you. gently, you grasp his forearm, “i love you steve.” his head raises, his eyes lock onto yours. mossy brown shines in golden light, filled with hope. his breath hitches, you clear your throat, “uh, we love you. robin, the kids, hopper and joyce… everyone.”

steve’s eyes stay locked onto yours, “by ‘here’ you mean…”

you run your hands through your hair, bringing a knee up to rest your forearm against it. you sigh, slightly annoyed, “no, steve. not nancy.’

“wha— no, no. not nancy, definitely not.”

you grasp onto his arms once again, “listen, steve. one day, you’re gonna meet someone. not now, maybe tomorrow, but definitely in the future. you’re not gonna expect it. maybe it’ll be long past the time of family video, where the water has taken us to different paths. but you will, “you gulp down the knot in your throat, “find someone. and they’re going to be so, so lucky to have you as their life long partner.”

steve shakes his head, a loose spitcurl falling in front of his forehead, “no, no…” he breathes out your name in amusement, like he’s been searching for sunglasses that were on top of his head, “i don’t mean nancy.”

you quirk your head to the side, unnoticeably so, but steve sees you and continues, “you’re right. i’ve been putting my all into trying to find something that’ll fill the… i-don’t-know, hole in my heart, or whatever. but i— i think i know now.”

you furrow your brows in confusion, looking off to the side before meeting steve’s eyes once again, “what?”

the boy in front of you takes a deep breath, “there’s always been this person, in the back of my mind, that i’ve always told myself is untouchable.”

immediately, you shake your head. you know where he’s going with this, “no. no, steve i’m not going to be—”

as you stand up, steve follows you. breathing out your name in exasperation, he grasps your hand, “they’ve always been out of reach, someone i knew i could never have.” you stop, but don’t meet his gaze. he tilts his head to try to catch yours, “earlier, do you mean that?”

you look everywhere but his eyes, stammering, “i- i don’t know what you mean. i mean, you know what i mean. what i meant….”

steve smiles, his nose scrunches, “you love me, right?”

you miss it, eyes glued to the floor. you shrug, “yeah, uh, that’s what i said…”

the fire glows onto your face now. it flickers and it crackles, the boy in front of you holds onto both of your hands. “in the same way robin does?”

you shrug, turning away to hide the tears that well in your eyes. immediately, steve is concerned, gently cupping your cheek to meet your eyes.

“heyheyhey, its fine if you do. i’m sorry, i read this whole thing wrong.”

finally, you look up at him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes widened in complete confusion, “wait, what?”

it’s steve’s turn to be confused, his eyes flicker to the side and back to you. “you’re the person i’m talking about.”

your eyebrows shoot up in realization, your mouth drops in a silent ‘oh’. he continues, “sorry, sorry— i made this so awk—”

“i do! love you, i mean. in that way.”

steve’s expression softens, he cups both of your cheeks. the fire glows against his back, encapsulating the two of you in your own bubble. it crackles and you smile, grasping onto his wrists. he leans closer to you, “like, love-love me?” you nod, steve grins. he asks, “can i kiss you?”

you feel blood rush into your cheeks, your heart beats out of your chest. “yeah.” you whisper.

he leans in, you close your eyes. his lips slot perfectly against yours, you don’t care that they’re slightly chapped because it’s steve. the steve you went to high school with, who got roped into your babysitting gig. the steve you’ve always admired from afar. its awkward at first, but you find your rhythm. you move your hands to the nape of his neck and gently grasp at his hair. he cradles your cheek with the utmost softness, as if you would shatter. the warmth of his palm engulfs your neck. he breaks away hesitantly, leaning his forehead against yours, “i’ve always wanted to do that. i… i knew that if i ever had you that i’d screw it all up again.”

you shake your head, “no, never. you are scored on my heart, harrington. you’ve had me since day 1.”

he laughs, and his nose scrunches in that particular way that you love. “no way. asshole and all?”

you peck his lips, “unfortunately.”

he leans in and kisses you silly.

<3

its 12am and i have school tomorrow pls like and reblog if u enjoyed tho! and comment im always looking to grow and improve!

do not repost my work at all! i do not condone putting it into ai either! this is my work!

[quins-makeshift-menagerie]

OMG! I can just see Zeus working with felting needles, his fingers bandaged all to hell, just so he could make her this tiny plush. It so cute!

Not gonna lie I imagined them sitting with Joyce and her showing them how to do it

At some point I’m sure they just decided it would be easier to use psychic instead of pricking their fingers lol

[connorsnothereeither]

“And now it’s time for a breakdown…” /ref

Welcome to my (fairly long lol) breakdown of the thought process behind the Ulysses CMV background!! ✨ I’m gonna go through it shelf by shelf because I think that’s easiest, so… buckle up! :D

TOP SHELF:

On the far left, we have an Assassins Creed Apple of Eden! Most of the soundtracks to the Ulysses vods came from AC: Odyssey, and AC: Origins! The Ancient Greek and Egyptian music fit him perfectly, who’d have thought. Including the main song from Ulysses epilogue, “Reunited” from AC: Odyssey. Behind that is of course my hand-bound copy of On the Brink of Scientific Discovery. I had to work out a way to get my earliest entry into the Fable Fandom in there somewhere. Beside it is the skull, and a copy of Frankenstein, by Mary Shelly, which I’ve spoken about being an inspiration for Ulysses. Along with, of course, Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, and Herodotus’ Histories (Herodotus being the main inspiration for epilogue Ulysses and who he became towards the end)! And naturally, James Joyce's Ulysses. I had to. Besides that again is another copy of Frankenstein, along with more Ancient Greek works, specifically Euripides’ Medea and the works of the poet Sappho! And a copy of Moby Dick, since Ahab and Ishmael were both concept names for Ulysses during character creation! Besides those, the smaller penguin books, are some of my favourite details but some of the harder to spot because they’re so small. One is another poem by Sappho, Come Close. But the OTHER is The Fall of Icarus by Ovid, which I absolutely had to put in there. Impossible to see, but I know it’s there, and it makes me happy. Of course, once again on the theme of writers is a bust of Shakespeare, but behind him, is actually the set of D&D dice I bought inspired by Ulysses, which are made to look like they have kelp and seaweed inside them! ✨ and finally on the top shelf is a ship, in reference to his sailing and ship in the epilogue art, and a mini Greek style amphora.

MIDDLE SHELF:

On the far right, at the bottom, is the black knight chess piece, the same as Ulysses tattoo!! A reference to both the Trojan horse and him being a piece in the Telchin’s game. Behind it, the tiki mug, is a somewhat vague reference to the Sea Dragon Tavern! It’s never explicitly stated that they serve tiki drinks, but it certainly feels like a place that would. Tucked in, barely noticeable, is the Egyptian Book of the Dead. Both a reference to more ancient mythology, but also, in a little way, a reference to Lenarius. A book on the treatment and care of the dead. I think it would suit him. Make Len happy. More Greek texts (the Iliad and Odyssey again) this time including Ovid’s Metamorphosis, and Virgil’s Aeneid, a reference to both the mythological epic itself and to my little guy Virgil, from SkyBound SMP. Propped against those are a boatswain’s whistle, which I like to think is a little gift from Vorago and Casus. A captain’s call, to get someone’s attention no matter where you are on the sea, along with a small canon, which is actually from St Augustine Lighthouse, and felt very nautical. Behind those is a set of tarot cards, displaying the Magician, a symbol of manifesting and living to your true potential, which is fitting for Ulysses. All of that is of course propped on ANOTHER copy of the Odyssey. The full moon, as a little reference to his bestie Fenris, and a bear statue, which is a little nod to the fact I also voiced Deltavera (and the statue was actually a gift Jamie got me one of the times we met up)! Beside that is a handful of little bottles! The dice inside are mostly just because… that’s what I keep in those little potion bottles, but maybe they’re a reference to Wheel Not Fake or something too, who knows lol- and a little white axolotl plush. My son. My own personal little Perseus, I bought him the second I saw him akgsksgs ✨🫶

BOTTOM SHELF:

Almost done lol. The globe on the end, both a reference to the cartography/travel, and the fact that it’s turned to just show the ocean, rather than any countries. The sea is his home, after all. Another axolotl plush, peeking out from behind yet ANOTHER copy of the Iliad and Odyssey, which is balanced on a copy of Dante’s Divine Comedy, as another little reference to Virgil from Bound SMP. Behind that is a whisky bottle, which is empty in the photo but not in the CMV, as a reference to the Kelpin’ alcohol! And finally, the stack of books in the corner. The folio society set of The Greek Myths are some of my favourite books I own, and I had to include them, along with a few more potion bottles, which actually include the dice from various Cantripped One Shots (I have special dice for characters and one shots when I can)! The stack of books behind the scrolls and lanterns also include Madeline Miller’s The Song of Achilles (one of the inspirations behind Ulysses & Vesperae’s relationship) and Circe (more Odyssey references), along with world myths and Icelandic Sagas, and The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire by Edward Gibbon, which was an early and incredibly influential historical text about the Roman’s (which somewhat inspired the structure and lore of the broader Telchin society!), on top of which is more mythology like the Welsh Mabinogion, the Norse Poetic Edda, and a horror anthology titled The Great God Pan and Other Horror Stories, many of which inspired Brink!! The lantern is, in all honesty, the only there not there for a specific reason… I just thought it looked cool :)

So yeah! That was my overly long analysis of my overly detailed Ulysses set background! Barely any of it is visible in the CMV, but for my little farewell to the character and world I had spent so long falling in love with, I wanted to make the background something special 🫶

[aliceinoakdale]

✧♡✧ Valentine's Day, Irène & James ✧♡✧

Rugs, Pillows, Table, Tray - Mechta sims Picnic Blanket - Mel Bennet, Doodle Fae : x, x Pillows - Hydra, Syboulette : x, x, x Petals - Hera Sims Wine & Cheeses - Ruby Red Wine glass - Myshunosun Seafood - Dust Bunny Sushi Boat - Hydra Plates - Mell Bennett Strawberry - Dust Bunny Drinks - Dahlia Blankets Trunk - Dust Bunny Cooler Bag - Lijoue Picnic basket - Joyce is Fox Flower Basket - Ruby Red, Joyce is Fox : x, x Plush Bear - Cowbuild Gifts - Dahlia Gift Baskets - Dust Bunny Macarons box - Dust Bunny Flower - Dahlia Speaker - Attic window at dawn Candles - Peacemaker, Tuds, Harrie, The Clutter Cat, Lilac Creative : x, x, x, x, x, x Candlesticks - Plush Pixels Candlestick - Ruby Red

CC Creators :

@mechtasims / @Mel-bennet / @doodlefaecc / @hydrangeachainsaw / @syboubou / @herasims4 / @Rubyred / @myshunosun / @Dustbunny / @Dahlia / @lijoue / @joyceisfox / @Cow.build / @atticwindowatdawn / @peacemaker-ic / @tudtuds / @Harrie / @thecluttercat / @plushpixelssims /

[fresh-and-funky]

Party Bag tour:

Mike Wheeler

Clean bag

Keeps comics and books at all times

Chronic note-taker, always jolting down ideas

Pins on bag

Always is late so keeps extra jacket and dice

Resees Pieces for Will

Never lets people listen to his mixtapes (all cheesy/ embarrassing love songs)

(never sent letter to Will)

Keeps memorial polaroid of Eddie

Got the pink triangle pin and guitar pick from Eddie (he was being taught guitar)

Will Byers

Tiger plush keychain from Joyce

Collector/ sometimes keeps things “in case they can be used later)

Art supplies always on hand

Smokes cigarettes and sometimes weed

Pin collection from Mike

An Amethyst for “good energy” from El

Tapes from Johnathon

Has spare keys to everything

Tickets from movie night with Mike

The cure sweater for chilly nights

Dustin Henderson

Always prepared (first aid kid, compass, tape, scissors, etc) Mary Poppins style

Robot toy he always forgets to take out

Backpack because he likes to haul things around

Snacks galore

Character Sheets all kept together

Extra hat

Brush from Steve (to take care of the curls)

Movie tape he's been meaning to return for three months

Tomagothchi has never died

Got the kazoo as a gag gift from Mike and Max

Lucas Sinclair

Reuses sports bag for everything

Slingshot cause he still is a kid at heart

Pep ralley poster to show his mom

Game boy for car rides

Cleans bag every other week, no sooner or less

Max polaroid

Period pack for Max

Flashlight he stole from Dustin

M&Ms as a peace offering to Mike

Grocery coupon for running errands

El Byers- Hopper

Purse from Joyce

Scarf to wrap up hair while its growing out weird

Likes to do art with Will, so often keeps a craft on hand

Lots of papers from studying

Makeup and jewelry were party birthday gifts

Tissues for bloody noses

Polaroids of friends to show off

Socks for cold feet

Wallet to put money she “steals” from Hopper (he lets her take it

Nail polish that puts on everyone (she makes the party match with her)

Max Mayfield

Skateboard strapped on back (and bandaids for fails)

Never threw out “in case” letters from Vecna

Lock picking set and switchblade

Music kept with at all times

Hair ties for braiding back her hair

Keys (including the spare to Steve’s car she stole)

A comic she says isn't hers

Ladybug wallet from El

Glasses for reading (Vecna damaged her eye sight)

A lighter for weed sessions with the party

[stonathandreamer]

Uncles

🔸 Stonathan Masterlist

🔺 My AO3 Account

Summary: Steve and Jonathan are going out on a date, and they enlisted Will and Mike to babysit their baby daughter.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: A little Byler fic for my Byler mutuals 🥰. Also, I'm finally on vacation from work 🥳 which means a 1000% increase of Stonathan content! You guys have no idea how much research I do about babies whenever I write a "Married!Stonathan with a daughter" fic. I'm an expert at this point.

"Okay, so, she needs to be in bed at 7:15 pm, sharp, clear? Not 7:16 pm. Not 7:14 pm. 7:15 pm. I don't want my baby's sleep schedule to get all messed up because of you two dipshits. There are some diapers in her bag and her bottle, too. Oh, and her plush bunny, she likes her bunny."

"Steve..."

"And don't exaggerate on her dinner, alright? It's 2 ounces of cooked ground meat, 1/2 a cup of vegetables - she likes broccoli, by the way - 1/2 a cup of mashed potatoes, and some milk."

"Steve..."

"If anything happens, you call us, alright? Or Joyce."

"Steve..."

"And I swear, if anything happens to my baby, your asses are grass, you dipshits—"

"Steve!" Will repeats Steve's name for the thousandth time this evening, trying to get his brother-in-law just to shut up and calm down before Steve has a stroke right in front of him. "Don't worry, okay? We'll take good care of her. You and Jonathan go have some fun."

Steve narrows his eyes, not buying Will's reassurance. He feels like he needs to threaten them just a little more so they can fully understand the responsibility they are about to bear. But before he can utter another word, his husband wraps an arm around his waist and brings him closer.

"Let it go, Steve. They can handle it. And quit being a worrywart. I don't want you to get an aneurysm before we leave the house." Jonathan smirks teasingly at Steve, gently pinching Steve's side.

Steve scoffs under his breath but knows better than to argue against Jonathan. Rule number one of marriage with a Byers: you don't argue with your Byers husband. He's always right.

"Fine, I'll shut up... But if any—"

"Steve," Honestly, if Will had a nickel for every time he said Steve's name in the past hour. "Don't worry. We can handle her, right, Mike—"

"OW!" Mike yelps as the baby in his arms pulls hard at his hair. He tries, in vain, to get the baby to let go of his hair, but it's in vain. Elizabeth seems to have a profound liking for his locks. "O-ow! Quit it, kid. Let go!"

Will chuckles at seeing his boyfriend getting bullied by his 1-year-old niece. Jonathan fights to contain a small smile, but the corner of his lips twitches upwards while Steve smirks and steps forward. He leans down to Elizabeth's eye level and gently pats her head.

"Yeah, we know, princess, the Wheelers kinda suck—"

"Hey—!"

"—But be good to your Uncle Will and Uncle Mike while we're away, okay?"

Steve kisses his daughter's forehead, and Jonathan follows suit, adding a gentle pinch on her chubby cheek.

"Have fun with your Uncles, baby. Don't give them a hard time."

Elizabeth giggles at receiving attention and affection from her dads, momentarily forgetting how fun it was to pull at Mike's hair. She watches as Steve and Jonathan leave through the front door before turning back to look at Mike.

"Nu-uh. Don't you dare, Lilibet..."

"Hey!" Will sends his boyfriend a fake glare of irritation while resting his hands on his hips. "That's my nickname for her, Mike."

Mike rolls his eyes while jerking his head back a little to keep his hair away from Elizabeth's grabby hands. He offers her his finger instead, which the baby happily accepts and begins playing with. "Right, sorry, I forgot no one's allowed to call her that but you." He glances down at the baby in his arms, who's thoroughly distracted by his finger, before turning back to Will. "So... What do we do know? I have, like, zero experience with babies."

"Seriously?" Will asks with a raised eyebrow while tilting his head slightly to the right. "You have zero experience with babies? You, the guy who has a baby sister?"

"Hey, my experience with Holly resumes with playing peek-a-boo and tea parties."

Will rolls his eyes and chuckles, imagining little Mike with a pink bow in his hair playing with Holly, raising his pinky while pretending to drink tea. He walks to the couch, Mike in tow, and sits down. He grabs the remote and turns on the TV, flipping through the channels until finding something family-friendly to watch while babysitting Elizabeth.

"Well, we just need to keep an eye on Lilibet, feed her, and put her to sleep."

Mike hums in response as he sets Elizabeth down in his lap and bounces his leg to entertain the baby, whose attention lies on the colorful cartoon on the TV. Mike glances at Will, who's also paying attention to the TV, and speaks softly, not wanting to bother either Will or Elizabeth.

"Hey, Will? Do you remember our first date?"

Will averts his gaze from the TV and sets his eyes on Mike, briefly affectionately rolling them while smiling at the memory.

"If you call lying down on Hopper's air mattress and watching movies together all night in my living room, yes, I do. Why?"

"Nothing, I just... Remembered it."

Will hums in response, not buying Mike's excuse. He happens to know his boyfriend all too well and knows exactly what Mike's thinking.

"You know... Steve still has that air mattress he bought when he took Dustin camping."

Mike and Will share a knowing look, mentally communicating their plan and nodding in sync.

"I can't believe you made me split the bill with you, Steven," Jonathan comments as he steps out of the car, closing the door behind him and shoving his hands inside his jacket pockets.

"That's how married life is, Jon. There's no 'I pay the bill' no more."

Jonathan huffs indignantly and shakes his head while waiting for Steve to lock the car so they can walk together to the front door.

"Yeah, but I paid the bill last time. You should have paid it this time—" Jonathan cuts himself off as realization dawns on him, and he narrows his eyes at Steve. Damn bastard, "You did it on purpose, didn't you? So we can go out again."

"Guilty as charged, babe," Steve winks at his husband and gives Jonathan's butt a gentle slap, "I owe you dinner. Next week, Friday, at Enzo's. Don't be late, handsome."

Jonathan shakes his head. He should have known better than to doubt Steve's geniuses.

"Fine. Next Friday, at Enzo's. Don't forget your wallet, handomse." He kisses Steve before fishing the house keys from his pocket and unlocking the front door. "I hope Lizzie didn't give them a hard time."

He turns the keys on the lock and slowly opens the door, not wanting to risk startling anyone inside. The lights are off, save for the TV, with a kid's cartoon playing in a low volume. Steve and Jonathan's eyes immediately go towards the floor, where Mike, Will, and Elizabeth are sleeping on a blue air mattress. Will is sleeping on the right side, Mike on the left, facing each other, and Elizabeth in the middle, with Will's arm around her as the baby hugs one of Mike's hands. The trio is tucked under a yellow blanket, keeping them warm from the cold night of Hawkins.

Jonathan's heart instantly melts at the sight before him. His mind instantly revisited his memories of when Will and Mike were just little kids having countless sleepovers - some of which Jonathan participated in when he was 11 years old or so.

"Aw, they look so cute. I need to go grab my camera!"

Steve, meanwhile, keeps his eyes locked on the sleeping trio, his hands on his hips and a frown on his face.

"Damn... I've been looking for this mattress for ages."

"Really? You're thinking about the mattress, Steve?" Jonathan raises an eyebrow at Steve's words before aiming his camera at the trio and snapping a couple of photos (a hundred or so, just a few).

"Hey, it's an expensive mattress, Jon. And how many photos are you planning on taking?"

"Just a few," Jonathan comments as he presses the button repeatedly.

Steve rolls his eyes fondly, knowing there's no natural or supernatural force in this realm or the next that will stop his husband from taking countless photos of their daughter. No doubt they'll need to buy a third photo album for Elizabeth before she turns two.

[griffinkid]

Hi hi! I have a plush bun bun that needs a name still and I can’t figure out the right one for her! I was thinking something somewhat simple with a floral name or a name related to her colors. She’s the mama to some of my other stuffies, she’s like coral-y of cerise with olive-y chartreuse accent color, i know you know a lot a bout names so maybe you have some ideas! Thank youu

Simple floral, colour or motherly names coming up!

Cerys (means 'love' but sounds close enough to 'cerise' to work as a colour-inspired name)

Iris (means 'rainbow' but it's a type of flower also)

Fiore ('flower' in Italian)

Rosa (means 'rose' in various languages, also means 'pink' in various languages)

Linnéa (type of flower, can also be spelled without the accent)

Thalia (means 'to blossom')

Since you said she's a mama to some of your other toys, I also thought of mothers from books I've read/films I've liked etc, that also have a lyrical or flowery sound:

Padmé (mother of Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia from Star Wars, means 'lotus flower')

Visenna (mother of Geralt in The Witcher, means 'of the forest')

Jennifer / Honey (either of these would work, the given name and surname of Matilda's teacher/adoptive mother in 'Matilda')

Joyce (the only parent in Stranger Things who shouldn't do prison time for negligence, has a short and lyrical sound)

[abibliophobiaa]

hi luna! i hope this week eases up on you soon and i’m sending you all the best! i saw your post about one word prompts and thought id send you one! how about steve harrington (or steddie if you so desire) and the word warm

steve harrington x g/n reader. steve’s tired after a long day of shenanigans. (500 words)

——

Warmth enveloped the space. Emanated from the flickering flames dancing in the fireplace. Bathed the room in orange light.

It had been a long day of skiing and snowy activities with your boyfriend. An impromptu trip to get away from the monotony of home. You’d been reluctant at first, but Steve’s face had lit up like a kid on Christmas when you finally agreed to try something new.

So you’d packed up the BMW and set out for somewhere new. Watched as Hawkins disappeared in the rear view mirror and drove until you found pointed mountaintops and wooden cabins. Until roads became dusted in snow and hoof tracks marred the white frosted grass.

And he’d been overjoyed all day. Bright smiles as he took in the sights, gleeful laughter as he descended his first hills successfully, head thrown back in delight when you’d both slipped at the bottom and fell together in a tangled heap. Leaned up and over onto trembling elbows and kissed every inch of your face, thanking you for joining him.

When you returned, frost-bitten and tingly cheeked, you’d immediately set up some hot chocolate on the stove top of your rented cabin and took turns taking showers, watching as a homemade pizza cooked away in the oven. Steve had started a fire while you carved the pizza pie and jeans were swapped for cozy sweatpants. Fluffy socks adorned chilled feet, laid out in front of the fireplace until you were warm once more.

Dishes were scrubbed and yawns spilled from opened mouths. Your mugs cooled and were placed again cup holders on wooden coffee tables. Bodies were laid out across plush couch cushions, draped in knitted blankets gifted by Joyce back home as a vacationing gift.

Now, you lay sprawled out on the couch. Back propped up against the armrest, book poised in hand. The yellowed pages gleamed in the firelight. Eyes trailed over darkened pages, a candle ignited behind you to give some extra reading light.

Steve lay draped over your stomach, hand curled in the material of your hoodie, blanket pulled high over his broad shoulders. Your fingers rested against the collar of his hood, trailing upwards every so often to tangle in the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” he sighed, nuzzling closer, humming as your fingers trailed higher and ran through his mussed locks. “…and your lunch.”

“Steve,” you groaned, ceasing in your movements with a petulant pout.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” A hand shot out to grip yours. Placed it back at the top of his head. “I’m kidding. I love you.”

The heat of him warmed you through the material of your hoodie. Heart burned bright with your love for the man. Affection ached in your chest, wedged there and left to overflow for him, and you resumed the movements. Watched out the corner of your eye while you continued to read as he drifted further and further into a comfortable slumber.

It didn’t take long for the sounds of the crackling fire to be joined by the soft snores of your boyfriend against you. Nor did it take long for you to discard your book on the floor and blow out the candle behind you, drifting off to join him.

——

[glitchytrait-finds]

my favorite creators

sorry i can't give links bc tumblr doesn't like to let you link a bunch of things at once. these are in no particular order. i don't have any creators listed twice, so they may create things in more than one of these categories. i am aware that a couple of the b&b creators use trackers, however, i download them through dollhouse mafia once the trackers have been removed.

also, if any of these creators are problematic please let me know so i can yeet them from here and my folders!

Hair Simstrouble Dogsill Sunivaa Sheabuttyr GegeSims JohnnySims Miiko Aladdin Okruee Greenllamas Imvikai Simcelebrity00 Daylifesims FeralPoodles GOAmazons KiaraZurk Laeska Simandy TwistedCat AHarris00Britney Isjao

Facial Hair Magic Hand Veiga Sims GolyHawHaw IyaS LumiaLoverSims Seleng

Makeup Cosimetic CrypticSim NorthernSiberiaWinds PoyoPoyo GoppolsMe Nell Obscurus PralineSims Sims3Melancholic

Clothes Anna_bibi Blue Craving Gorilla Gorilla Gorilla Moriel MysteriousOo Rimings Trillyke Belaloallure Sifix Blacklily Caio Casteru ClumsyAlien Senate Rusty Joliebean LazyEyelids Lonelyboy Mimoto Powluna Serenity VintageSimmer Arethabee

Shoes Madlen Jius

Jewelry Christopher067

Genetics Wrixie Lamatisse MsBlue Helgatisha CakeNoodles CeeP MoonchildLovesTheNight Pyxis Lotuswhim Herbalia KiwiTrait Moonmoonsim

Pets Sforzinda Blue Ancolia

Presets Evoxyr Kashisun MMSIMS StretchSkeleton VibrantPixels

Build & Buy Lilis-palace Severinka Amoebae BS LittleDica MadameRia PC PTS Sims4Luxury SIXAMcc SYB fairybarn Nocturne Novvvas Simbishy SnootySims Aira AnYe ATS4 CharlyPancakes ClutterQueen CWB Felixandre Harrie HulaZombie KiwiSims4 Leo MechtaSims MyshunoSun Pierisim Plush Pixels RSVN Sims4Luxury SOHO

Animations Steven Studios AelCherry CripsyCucumber E404P ZloStudio Purpura Sims RASCGAL VMS SovaSims SimsBerry D'Violet

Too lazy to go looking for what they make and I can't remember off the top of my head lol Celeschul Joyce Kijiko MB Oakiyo QICC Satterlly An0nymousGhost Artlos Astya96 BatsFromWesteros Cerberus DanceMachineTrait DarkNightSims Darte77 Elliesimple Faaeish GloomyTrait HFO LittleTodds Maytaiii McLayneSims MossyLane Myobi PaleSecret RavenSim Regalia S4Nexus Simkoos Solistair TinyWardens Woosteru

Just because I love their name and I have a couple of their things Twinksimstress YakFarm WeepinSimmer BaddieSims BiffyBobs BlahberryPancake Brohilda CloudCat DivaDoom FernPots FlowerShower ForgottenWitchie GothOffspring JellyMoo JellyPaws JustRandomSim JZest Laupipi Lesimbians LittleCakes Loulicorn Marsmerizing MelonSloth MoonTrait OverkillSimmer Peebs PlutoSims Rawr! RevolutionSims RottenMothBoy Sashima Schmapple SilverHammer Simbience SimpleSimmer SkittlesPlays SunflowerPetals ToxicApple WistfulCastle YoonieSim