#I especially love the messages in the tags

[ktgoodmorning]

Bored

Mapi Leon x reader

Mapi gets bored while you're gone on international duty and finds a new way to keep herself busy.

I kinda love the ending of this one, I really just need me a girl to do this with. If you don’t like the first half, I promise the ending is worth it (imo)

Masterlist

“But bebita, what am I supposed to do for two whole weeks while you’re gone?” 

“Maybe you could do some more drawing while I’m gone? Draw something for me or for the apartment or something?” 

To say Mapi was not happy about you leaving was an understatement. You were going home for almost two weeks for international break and Mapi was still stuck in the gym doing rehab, not even getting to fully partake in training yet. Many of your friends from the team would be gone as well so she certainly wasn’t looking forward to it. Throughout her injury she had been bored enough; without you to keep her company, she’d be absolutely losing her mind. 

“I’ve literally drawn everything. I have nothing left.” she gave you a pout and shrugged in defiance, automatically turning herself into a toddler. She had flopped across your bed dramatically while you made sure you had everything you needed to go. 

“Mapi, I’m sure you will find something. Maybe there’s another project of some kind that you can get into?” 

“No, there’s none. I’ve done everything. And I will die of boredom. And you don’t even care.” 

You rolled your eyes at how childish your girlfriend was being while you finished zipping your suitcase. “I’m quite sure you won’t die. And I will be sure to give you a call when I get some free time, okay?”

“Well hopefully I’m still alive by then.” 

“You’re ridiculous, María.”

“But you love me!”

“Yes, I do. But I’m also gonna be late if I don’t head out, so please sit up and give me a kiss.” 

“Fine,” she mumbled, but still sat up to comply, not willing to turn down an opportunity to kiss you, especially when it would be her last one for a while. “I love you, please text me when you get there.”

“That I can do. I love you too, I’ll miss you.”

“Apparently not enough to bring me with you, though.” She grumbled once again while she carried your bag to the door for you. 

With one last hug and kiss, you were sent on your way, getting in your Uber and going straight to the airport. Of course Mapi continued texting you the entire way in an attempt to keep herself occupied until you had to board your plane and she was forced to face her boredom. 

Normally you wouldn’t have much reason to worry about your girlfriend when you were gone. Sure, you missed her, but that was about the extent of it. She’d be busy in Barça trainings or sometimes tagging along with Patri and Pina on mini vacations if they had time off during the break, so she was always kept entertained. But Mapi’s injury had taken its toll on her and she was far past the point of being kept busy by a book or sketchpad. She was antsy to get back in the field and it was killing her to still not be in full training with all her friends. Your mind was busy with thoughts of her as you put your phone away and your plane took off.

… 

Hours later when your plane touched down, you took your phone off airplane mode and had a flood of texts streaming in that Mapi had sent throughout your flight. Nothing was wrong or anything like that, just a full stream of consciousness sharing every thought she had with you over the past few hours. Through her messages, you could easily piece together that she was, of course, bored, hated the new book she had started and decided not to finish it, tried to watch a movie but didn’t like it, complained a lot, and then decided on taking a nap. You assumed that she was still asleep as the nap was the last text you received from her, making a mental note to call her once you were on the way to your hotel. As you sat waiting to get off the plane, it hit you that these two weeks might go a lot worse than you thought. 

You realized once you got in the car to your hotel that calling your girlfriend, and therefore waking her from her nap, would be a bad idea, so instead you sent her a text to let her know you made it. In hopes of keeping your girlfriend company, you also texted Patri and Pina to see if they could check in on her and invite her to tag along with them while you were gone. You wouldn’t ever tell Mapi you asked but you knew that it would help her pass the time if she wasn’t moping around, alone the entire time, and Patri and Pina would always be glad to have her join them.

… 

Later that night when you were settled into your hotel room, your girlfriend must have woken up, as you suddenly got a flood of texts from her. 

“Hola, bebita”

“I just woke up”

“I’m glad you made it”

“How was the flight”

“I slept so long”

“Why didn’t you call me on your way to the hotel? You could have woken me up, I wouldn’t have cared” (not true) 

“I love you”

“I miss you”

“Can you come home yet”

That’s about how every text looked- just continuously coming in as she thought of it. Immediately you decided to just Facetime her instead of forcing her to type it all out. 

She didn’t have much to say other than that she was still bored, and that her nap helped pass the time. You took the opportunity to fill her in on all the details from the flight and how your day had gone, knowing that she would appreciate it the longer you talked. The two of you talked and talked until you started drifting off, making hardly any sense as you tried your best to continue the conversation. 

“Baby, you’re falling asleep, I should let you go. You need to rest up for training tomorrow, especially after your flight.” you could see in her eyes that she was disappointed to have to say goodbye.

“It’s alright, you can keep talking. I like listening to you while I fall asleep, just know I’m gonna stop responding soon so don’t say anything important.”

“Are you sure, I-”

“I’m positive, Mapi,” you leaned over to turn off the lights and get comfortable in your hotel bed. “I love you. And I have a hard time sleeping when you’re not here to cuddle with me, so at least your voice is better than nothing.” Your girlfriend’s face broke into a sad smile when she realized that you missed her just as much as she did. 

“I love you too, amor. You get comfy, and I’ll keep going then.” And that was exactly what she did, continuing to go on quietly about whatever random thing she could think of so that her voice could lull you to sleep. You meant what you said when you had a hard time sleeping without her near so her voice was exactly what you needed to help you drift into a gentle sleep. 

…

The next few days went exactly as the first had. Plenty of complaints and texts from Mapi that you responded to whenever you caught a spare minute. She didn’t necessarily expect a response, she understood you were busy and wasn’t trying to interrupt, it was more of a way for her to stay somewhat occupied. When she wasn’t in the gym, continuing to work on her recovery, she was often napping with Bagheera, or sometimes tagging along with Patri and Pina. 

After about three days in this routine, she decided that third wheeling with the two of them only made her miss you more. She’d see them get all cuddly together and suddenly feel more alone than ever, only wanting you. 

Unbeknownst to you, on your fourth day being gone, Mapi decided to follow your advice of finding some kind of new project to keep her busy. It was becoming more and more clear to her that she couldn’t go on like this for the next two weeks so she was willing to try almost anything. She had suddenly delved into her newfound hobby with such conviction that her texts to you began to lessen. You still had your nightly phone call and she was still just as chatty as usual, but you no longer received her entire stream of consciousness throughout the day. 

On day seven, now three days without her constant texts, you finally decided to ask her about it. You assumed she just got used to you being gone and had found something to do. 

“What have you been up to the past few days? You must have found something to keep you busy, si?” 

“Si, si, si. But I cannot tell you, it’s a surprise.” She was smiling from ear to ear, almost suspiciously excited, given her attitude just a few days prior. 

“Not that I don’t like seeing you happy, Maps, but I feel like you’re far too happy right now.” You giggled at her lightly, glad to see her doing so well, but also knowing it wasn’t unusual for her to get herself into trouble when you were gone. 

Her mouth dropped open, giving you a playful look of shock at what you were implying. “Don’t you trust me, amor?”

“Yeah, but I feel like I shouldn’t…” Her mouth dropped even further as you laughed at her. Your girlfriend just smiled at your laughter, happy to see one of her favorite things after a week apart. 

As your laughter died down, she turned more serious, realizing, once again, how much she missed having you home and hearing your laughter around the house. “Would you please just come back to me, I miss you?” 

“I know, Maps, I miss you too. One week from today, I’ll be back home to you, though.” 

“One week can’t come soon enough. Why don’t you get into bed and I’ll keep talking? You’ve got a game tomorrow and I can’t be the reason you’re up too late.” And that’s exactly what you did. You both shared your final goodnights and I love you's before letting her talk you to sleep, just as you had done every day that week. 

…

The rest of international break continued with the same routine. You wouldn’t hear much from Mapi during the day but still always ended your nights with a phone call where she talked until you fell asleep. She still refused to tell you how she was filling her time, just telling you that she found a new project, just like you told her to. As you boarded your plane to go home to her, you were itching with excitement, both to see her as well as to see what she had been up to. 

Mapi had been suspiciously quiet that morning, nothing but a “can’t wait to see you” and “I love you” text from her. Based on her odd behavior, you figured she had either destroyed your apartment and didn’t want you to know, or had some kind gift for you and wanted it to remain a surprise. Either way, you knew you were anxious to see what she had up her sleeve. Your contemplation made it hard to focus on your book during the flight, eventually just giving up and letting your mind wander for the hour you had left in the air. 

When your plane landed, your excitement only grew as you made your way through customs, knowing your girlfriend was waiting for you on the other side. You had shared some texts since you landed, her letting you know that she was in the lobby, waiting to greet you the second you emerged. She still was yet to share any details of her last two weeks which was increasingly unusual for her. 

“Bebita!!” You heard the familiar voice calling to you the second you stepped off the escalator into the main lobby. She lightly jogged her way over to greet you with a hug just as she always did, throwing her arms around your neck and going up on her tippy toes to meet you. 

“María, mi amor!” you let your hands go around her waist to squeeze her into you tightly while you mumbled into her hair. “I missed you.”

“At least you were actually doing stuff! I was just stuck at home! All alone, and injured, and bored, and alone.” She was back to her playful teasing, no different than she was before you had left for break, still just as dramatic as always. 

“Well I’m back now! So maybe you should quit grumbling and take me home, yes?”

“Si, yes, I’d love to take you home.” this time she was more serious, mumbling against your lips as she left you a series of soft kisses.

With that, your girlfriend finally separated from you, taking all your bags (even though you insisted you could do it just fine yourself), and leading you to her car with her free hand linked with yours. She refused to let you put your bags in her car yourself, even when you reminded her that she was still technically injured.  

When she sat down in the driver’s seat next to you, she held your hand in yours once again, holding them both in her lap, sometimes placing soft kisses on your knuckles. “María, are you gonna tell me what you’ve been up to for the past two weeks?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” she flashed you a cheeky smile before turning back to face the road. You figured it couldn’t be anything too bad because if she was really trying to hide it and keep herself out of trouble she wouldn’t be all smiley like this. It had to be more of a good surprise than anything else. “Tell me about your day, baby. How was your flight?” You scoffed at her obvious change of subject but still obliged, having nothing better to talk about at the moment as she finished her drive to your shared apartment. 

When she unlocked your front door, you were a little surprised to see nothing out of place. Your apartment appeared to have everything in its place, just as clean as when you left it two weeks ago. You gave Mapi a questioning look, trying to figure out what she had been so secretive about while she just smirked at you. 

“Okay, Maps, give it up. What have you been hiding from me?” 

“Close your eyes, amor.” She could tell you were slightly unsure by the way your eyebrows shot up on your forehead, immediately coming over to reassure you. She took both your hands in hers gently, looking directly in your eyes. “Just trust me. I just have to run in the other room to grab something and I’ll be right back. It’s nothing bad, I promise.” She leaned up to you to punctuate her sentence with a kiss. 

“Fine, but if you’re pranking me, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight. I’m serious!” 

You watched her roll her eyes at you but you both knew the warning was warranted given her past attempts to play jokes on you. When she didn’t react further, you finally gave in and shut your eyes, listening to her footsteps run into your bedroom for a minute before returning. You fought to suppress your smile. Just from the sound of her footsteps you could perfectly picture the way she was running, much like a child, going as fast as she could to excitedly show you what she was hiding. 

Just a few seconds later, you felt her presence in front of you before she spoke up again. “Give me your hand.” You tentatively did as she asked, keeping your eyes closed while carefully holding your hand out to her, allowing her to hold it in her own. Her hand raised yours up to her lips to place a kiss on your palm before she slid something onto your wrist. Your eyes shot open at the feeling, taking a minute to adjust to the light before settling on the mass of bracelets that she had slid onto your arm. 

You felt the tension leave your shoulders as soon as you saw her surprise, relaxed that it was something so small yet so sweet. There were at least five on your wrist already, and a pile more in her hands that she hadn’t given you yet. 

“They’re friendship bracelets!” Your girlfriend was basically bouncing up and down, smiling up at you, completely giddy over her creation. Each one was full of plastic beads along with some white letter beads, all spelling out something different. Some were chunky, childlike, beads in a mix of neon colors while others were small little ones in intricate patterns. Each one clearly had a significant amount of thought put into it. 

“Is this what you’ve been working on all week?” You smiled brightly at her, touched by how excited she was to make you these. 

“Si, si, let me show you all of them.” She still had a hold of your hand as she dragged you over to the couch to tell you her thoughts behind every single bracelet she made you. 

“So this one is for Barcelona, obviously.” The bracelet was full of alternating red and blue beads with a number four in the middle. “I made one with your number and then I thought, ‘would it be too cliche if we matched?’ and I decided no, so then I made one for me with my number. But then I liked yours better so I figured we could trade and just have each other’s number.” You couldn’t stop smiling as you watched her ramble, continuing to talk through all of them, barely keeping up with the speed she was speaking at. 

“So this one is a mix of both of our favorite colors, plus green because I think if Bagheera had a favorite color it would be green, and then it has each of our initials plus BL for-”

“For Bagheera León.” You finished her sentence for her as you both giggled. 

“Si, si, for Bagheera. So we both have that one matching and also I made one for Bagheera but she doesn’t really like it very much but we can make her wear it if you want a picture of us all matching.” 

She pulled at another one. “This one’s your national team colors and number but I also made one that’s those colors mixed with Barça colors cause that seemed like something you would like cause that’s all of the colors then. I figure maybe when you play I’ll wear that one for good luck. As long as you let me borrow it of course. This one says ‘I heart Mapi’ because we can’t have you forgetting that. But this one says ‘I heart you’ cause I do, and I don’t want you forgetting that either.”

“I love you so much, María.” She looked up for the first time since she started her rambling, needing to catch her breath all of the sudden, as you left a kiss on her nose. “Thank you. For all of these. They are really sweet, I love them.”

“Well I was bored and you told me to find a project, so I did. And it was fun! It kept me busy. And I like making things for you.”

“Well they’re perfect. Maybe I need to leave more often so I keep coming home to things like this.” You gave her a smirk, knowing exactly the reaction you’d get as you watched her jaw drop, ready to start complaining about her potential boredom once again. 

“You better be joking cause that was too long for me. Next time if I still can’t play, you’re bringing me with you.” She pulled you in for a long, hard, kiss, much deeper than the ones she’d left you so far. 

“Deal,” you mumbled into her lips, before she pulled you impossibly closer, knowing you were both in for a fun night.

Would love some requests to get the inspo flowing :)

Masterlist

#mapi leon #mapi leon imagine #mapi leon x reader #barcelona femeni #woso imagines #barca femeni #woso #woso one shot #woso x reader #espwnt #mapi león #wosoreadingmapi #wosoreading24/7

[thecreelhouse]

accident prone

part two - I laugh often, so, I suppose, I’m gonna be fine

Paring: Steve Harrington x fem!OC - Francesca “Frankie” Amato

Summary: Steve and Frankie really get to know one another, and the friendship blossoms quickly. So fast, Steve can’t keep up with his own feelings, even in the face of an emergency.

WC: 8.6k+

Includes: angst, hurt/comfort (like, a lot), internalized ableism, language, PTSD, revolving around Hawkins/the Upside Down, discussions of chronic pain/illness and disabilities, a teensy bit of fluff and flirting if you squint, medical emergencies, etc.

series playlist ⋮ masterlist 

here, here and here - meg & dia

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

“I’m a wanderer now, sorrow befalls me / I laugh often so, I suppose, I’m gonna be fine”

A/N: hey there! Wow. I didn’t think this would really gain any attention— this fandom seems to hate OCs (y’all’s loss tbh), but the support I got on the last chapter, though small to some major blogs, means a fuck ton to me. I don’t want to tag everyone, but thank you to whoever sent me a kind message or pep talk after posting the first part— I really am glad this is relating to others with chronic health concerns, one way or another. Even if it relates to one person, it means more than meaningless notes. Also, may 12th is Fibromyalgia Awareness Day! So, consider this my contribution lol. As previously stated, for anyone with fibro, or without, but living with a chronic illness/condition, mental and/or physical, I am sending all my love, and this is for you <3

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The next morning, Steve’s up early; if he can’t push past the pain, he’ll try working with it. He refuses to let the opportunity to get to know Frankie slip away. 

And the opportunity for a possible job. That’s important, too. Just… not right at this very moment.

What the hell do I wear? 

He glances at the pair of glasses he’s been neglecting lately, just annoyed he needs yet another tool of assistance to help him function; his vision blurs easily these days, especially with migraines. And while it’s not severe, he’s been warned to wear the glasses to prevent further deterioration of his vision.

To Steve, it’s another reminder of how broken he feels. If this was about anyone else, he wouldn’t feel that way, but when it comes to himself, the internal ableism never ends.

Just like the day before, everything hurts terribly. It’s one of those days where even certain fabrics and elastics add to the widespread ache, and it’s not like he has to dress up, but he doesn’t want to just show up in sweats, either.

At least I don’t have to wear that ugly, stiff uniform anymore.

He opts for a well-worn, loose cardigan with a pair of jeans that he ripped at the knee years ago; the tear is conveniently over his bad knee, making it easier to wear the brace he has on his bad joint days. And today, he really needs it. 

Steve also needs a boost of confidence and a way to shake his nerves; the thought of seeing Frankie again and possibly getting another job have him on edge.

Too bad there’s no medical device to assist him on that one.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Noticing the ‘CLOSED’ sign on the door of the record shop, Steve hesitates, realizing he should’ve asked Frankie about the hours; a tiny note taped to the bottom of the sign catches his eye. “Unless your name is Steve,” is scribbled in disheveled handwriting, with a small smiley face drawn at the end.

Entering the record shop, he first sees Frankie, sitting criss-crossed on the checkout counter; her cane is laid over her lap while she’s meticulously applying stickers to the aluminum. The door’s chime goes off, and her head pops up, immediately breaking into the warm smile Steve had thought about since the last time they spoke. 

“Steve!” There’s an urge within her to hop off the counter and greet him with a hug, but she holds back, reminding herself that they’re barely even friends. “Hi,” She opts for a wave instead, eyes falling to the coffees, one in each hand.

He shyly nods with a sweet smile, all bundled up in layers most folks would consider unnecessary. For him and his temperature intolerance, the obnoxious amount of warmth is very necessary.

“Hi, Frankie,” He hands her coffee over to her, in all its icy, sugary sprinkled glory. She takes it, eyes crinkling as she smiles wide. Steve can’t help teasing, “Cade’s right, you really are sick for liking iced coffee in the winter.”

Her smile flips into a comical frown before snarking, “He’s never getting that damn tape now.”

“The one about dinosaurs?”

Frankie snorts just as she takes a sip of her coffee, covering her face with her sweater bundled arm.

“Robin told me you’d say something like that.” 

“… So it’s not about—“

“Steve, it’s the name of a band,” She giggles, moving her arm away from her face. Steve notices the way her sleeves cascade over her hands completely; the sweater she’s in is way too big, but with that and her flowing skirt, she looks comfortable, and warm. 

“Right. I knew that!” He tries playing it off with a shrug, “They’re great.”

“You’ve never listened to them before have you?”

He laughs at the knowing smirk Frankie gives him, shaking his head, “Yeah, no, not at all.” If this was high school, he’d be trying to save face right now, to look cool, pretend he knew what he was talking about. Mid-twenties Steve is able to let it roll off his back, poke fun at himself, move on.

Plus, Steve knows this interaction wouldn’t happen at all in high school. Labels and useless popularity would keep them far, far apart. He’s alright with that; Frankie definitely didn’t need someone like ‘King Steve’ and his bullshit to deal with. 

“Okay. What about Jawbreaker?”

“… The candy?”

Frankie giggles, shaking her head, before running down a list of bands off the top of her head; The Cure, Joy Division, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Strawberry Switchblade, Sonic Youth, Nirvana, the list went on. Steve says most he’s heard of, but never listened to. Some, he’s heard some of their singles on the radio.

“You’re into all that… punk stuff, right?” He’s a little lost, but he’s headed in the right direction. Frankie doesn’t tease him for it, though. 

“To an embarrassing degree,” She smiles, crinkling her nose, and oh, god, Steve’s not expecting the way that sets off butterflies in his stomach. “And new wave, grunge, honestly some pop, too— oh! Dolly Parton! Just her, though, can’t get into any other country otherwise. I’m a mess when it comes to music interests.” She shrugs.

He shakes his head, shrugging his jacket off before unwinding his scarf; Frankie catches on immediately, pointing to the coat rack behind the counter.

“No… it suits you.”

“Is that an insult or a compliment?”

“O- oh, no, I meant that in a— it’s a— nice way, promise!” Frankie smirks as he stumbles over his words. “So… got any recommendations on what to start with?”

“Oh, don’t you worry, Steve. I’m gonna make you a mixtape later.” No pretentious undertone can be found in her words; Frankie’s just really excited to introduce someone to music they haven’t heard. “What do you listen to, then?”

Steve sits on the stool behind the counter while Frankie still hangs out on the countertop, kicking her legs over the side now. He watches as she continues sticker-bombing her cane; it’s got quite the variety of holographic stars sprinkled about.

“Uh…” He shrugs, tugging at the edges of his sleeves before shoving them in the pockets of his cardigan. “Whatever sounds good, I guess.”

Frankie narrows her eyes at him, “C’mon, you can do better than that.”

Steve nervously laughs as a hint of red creeps across his face.

“Okay, uh… Queen, Springsteen, some of Bowie’s stuff—“

“Some?”

“I just- I can’t get into it all!” He stammers out. Frankie dramatically sighs, throwing her head back with a hand over her forehead, pretending like she’ll faint. When she levels her gaze to him again, she gives a teasing smirk, and he carries on, red in the face. “I like U2’s last album… uh, shit. What’s it called?”

“Achtung Baby?” She’s so quick to answer in a nonchalant tone, like this is common knowledge.

“Yeah! That one.”

“Oh, you’d really get along with my dad, then,” She teases, watching Steve’s expression flatten in a playful annoyance. “That’s not a bad thing! Bring it up in your next appointment— actually, don’t. He’ll talk about it for hours.”

Steve laughs, pushing his glasses up his nose with his pointer finger, “Alright, I’ll try to remember that.”

“Might want to write a reminder with the brain fog,” She quips, and it easily earns a chuckle; if anyone else tried to joke about his symptoms, he’d be bothered. To laugh it off with someone else equally as sick as him, though, is weirdly… cathartic. “Sorry, I’m distracting you. Go on.”

“Okay, don’t make fun of me, but Blondie’s got some good stuff, too.”

“Yes!” Frankie throws her hands out excitedly. Steve admires how animated she can be.

“I like a lot of other stuff,” He’s becoming more comfortable talking about this, not as afraid of rejection. Frankie didn’t give that kind of attitude off, but he second guesses himself always these days. “But it’s just singles and stuff.”

“Gimme a list one of these days, I’ll give you some recs.” She looks up from her sticker work on her cane, warmly smiling, but it falters seconds later. “Not pushing that on you, but it might— you don’t— don’t be afraid to tell me no—“

“Frankie.” Her name comes out of Steve’s mouth like the night before, a combination of reassurance and teasing. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

Dusting over her cheeks is a tint of rosy pink as her smile returns, ever so slightly. “Okay, cool.” She plucks a star sticker off the page, leaning towards Steve to stick it on his forehead. Her touch makes Steve’s heartbeat quicken, but it’s over as soon as it began. “Congrats, Steve, you’re hired.”

Brows furrowing, he doesn’t bother to remove the sticker. “What? Seriously? That was the interview?”

Frankie nods enthusiastically. “You already seemed nice, and got a good review from your best friend—“

“Seriously, what did she tell you?”

She pretends to zip her lips shut and shrugs, holding back giggles. 

“I’ll get you all that boring ass paperwork later, but yeah, I’m serious.” She holds her cane out, rolling it in her hands to make sure the stars are placed the way she wants. Her tongue pokes out while she’s focused, and Steve thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world. Directing her attention back to him, she continues, “I don’t wanna work with someone I just tolerate.”

Though Steve’s flattered to find he’s more than just tolerable to her, he’s still skeptical; not of her, but how this friendship is growing so easily, so suddenly. “Frankie, we barely know each other.”

“I don’t know anyone else my age that’s disabled, and you just… you get it. I wish you didn’t, but you do. If you don’t wanna work here, no hard feelings, but I want to continue getting to know you.” Her words, her tone, even her facial expression, they’re all sincere. “If you’re up for having a new friend, that is.”

Steve nods embarrassingly fast, but he doesn’t care. “My friends get it to an extent, but I don’t have to explain shit to you, and it’s… well, I don’t want to say nice, ‘cause like you said, I wish you didn’t know what this was like, either. But it makes me feel a little less alone, I guess.” His fingers grip the edge of the stool between his legs, arms straight, as he looks away shyly. “And I- I’d like to make you feel a little less alone too— jesus, that makes me sound like a douche. You get what I mean, right?”

“I get you, Steve, don’t worry,” Frankie picks up her coffee, holding it out to Steve. It takes a few seconds, but he catches on, grabbing his own coffee to hold out to her. “To a sick friendship. Get it. Sick? ‘Cause we’re both—“

Steve knocks his cup against hers, smirking, “Yikes, I thought my humor was corny.”

“Fine, no more jokes at all, then.” She deadpans, but her expression immediately cracks, breaking into a laugh, one that scrunches her nose and crinkles the edges of her eyes. It’s contagious, pulling Steve into her fit of laughter, too. “Yeah, I got a good feeling about you, Steve.”

“Huh? Like what?”

“Oh, we’re not that far in the friendship, buddy.” She props her cane onto the floor, sliding off the counter. The proximity between her and Steve when she’s on her feet is a little too close for him to handle, breath hitching in his throat. “Gotta earn the sappy moments, man.”

With that, Frankie rounds the counter, heading towards an aisle of vinyl records. She turns back to him, “Well, you want a tour?”

Steve’s eyes widen as he scrambles off the chair, “Y- yeah, that’d be— I probably need to know where things are.” Frankie resists teasing him further, leading him around the shop.

The pair walk slowly as she points out the main sections, split into three— vinyl records, cassette tapes, and CDs. 

“I still can’t get behind ‘em. They’re too flimsy for my clumsy self.” Frankie’s lips curl in a snarl as she eyes up the racks of the shiny discs, tucked away in their jewel cases. 

“At least they’re not LaserDiscs,” Steve murmurs, cringing. “I hated those things.”

“Yeah, never was a fan myself,” Her brows crinkle. “They’re like frisbees.”

“But vinyl… isn’t?”

“No. And I’m not elaborating.”

“Francesca, you’re something else.”

She scoffs playfully, “Can’t believe you just called me that. You’re fired.”

“Mhm, sure.” He smirks before glancing around the shop; it’s on the smaller side, but jam-packed with nearly anything and everything music related. Beyond CDs, tapes, and records, are band shirts, Walkmans, headphones, record players, tape players and boomboxes, useless novelty items, and so on. “So, when’d you open the store?”

“Oh, I didn’t. It’s not mine, only running it for now… kinda took over when the owner had to take a sick leave.”  Frankie begins leading Steve towards the back, through a worn, beaded curtain. She points to an open door, “Stockroom,” Then, to the door across the hall. “Break room.”

Steve acknowledges her directions with a nod before asking, “Oh, are they okay? Well, wait. Shit. I guess not if they’re on— my bad.”

Frankie gives him a half-smile, more for the sake of reassurance, along with an answer, “Dementia. So, uh, yeah. Probably not coming back.” A pained expression washes over Steve’s features. “The own— Mr. Fisher wanted to close the shop when his health continued declining, so I told him I’d keep it going for him. This was before the diagnosis, he just knew something was wrong and warned me he’d most likely shut down.”

“That’s… fucked.” 

“Yeah. He actually lived a few floors up, now he’s in a senior living home.” She wanders into the break room, falling onto the worn couch hanging out in the heavily used space. Steve sits on the opposite side, not wanting to invade her personal space as he listens intently. “Cool dude, hired me years ago, and he was really into jazz when he was younger. Like, used to play the sax for a living. He knew nothing about punk music, but he loved asking me about it. I learned a lot about jazz from him, too.

“He was empathetic with my pain, too. The couch is back here ‘cause he felt bad I had nowhere to rest on break.   Then he ended up using it more than I did.” Frankie’s a little dazed as she retells the circumstances. “I knew he’d never get better, and he knew it too, but I told him I’d love to watch over the business until he’s ready to come back. Couldn’t stand watching this place close, so… yeah. S’why I asked you.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie.” It’s all Steve can come up with, but it’s genuine, and she can tell.

“I hope it doesn’t come off like I’m telling you this so you’re guilted into being here, ‘cause if you wanna find another job, don’t feel like you have to st—“

“You do that a lot,” Steve blurts out, but it’s not mean-spirited. He stammers, “N- not that— it’s not bad— sorry—-“

“And you do that a lot,” Frankie observes bluntly. “Guess we’re kinda similar in the whole ‘overly apologetic’ department, huh?”

Steve glances at her, sighing with a hint of a sad smile. “Guess we are.” He rests his head on the back of the couch, blowing air between pursed lips as his eyes fixate on the ceiling. “Anyway, you’re not guilting me. I’m staying.” Then he sits back up, narrowing his stare at her. “Unless I’m still fired.”

She sits up, shoving her hand out towards him. He grabs it as she shakes it obnoxiously, snorting, “Steve Harrington, you’re re-hired.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ 

“Fibro’s just like… a bag of jellybeans.”

Steve scoffs out a laugh, lost on Frankie’s words. “I’m sorry, what?”

At the end of the day, Frankie and Steve wound up at a diner, still caught up in the excitement of getting to know a new friend.

“Y’know, it’s always a mystery over what color and flavor you end up with ‘til you get it.” Frankie begins to explain, hands on the diner’s table; Steve’s noticed she talks with her hands, a lot. She’s always so animated, even talking about the most mundane subjects. “And you might have ‘em all, but there might be more of one flavor, or another. Fibromyalgia is just a bag of symptoms, ‘cause you don’t know what’s gonna hurt that day ‘til it does— does that make sense?” 

“Oh, like, I get a lot of headaches, sometimes ocular migraines— the first few times, those freaked me out, and joint pain the most, but the other symptoms still exist, too, just not as frequently.” Steve scrunches his eyes shut with a nod, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Right? Or maybe I’m way off—“

“No, that’s exactly it! 

“That’s actually… a really good analogy,” He tucks the comparison away in his mind, for future use. “Wait, so you also have fibromyalgia?”

Frankie’s about to answer, until the waitress brings their milkshakes and fries to the table. Her smile over something as simple as a milkshake is contagious, and Steve finds himself grinning along with her.

“Yeah, but we found out lupus was a bigger concern,” She shares casually. “Y’know, I wouldn’t wish fibro on anyone, but I’m pissed you have to deal with it.”

Steve’s face distorts into confusion. “Why d’ya say that?”

“It’s such a fucking mess of a disability. Tests come back normal, x-rays show nothing, MRIs are clear, too— shit is so infuriating. You’re living in constant pain and most people don’t believe you. Then ya’ got these fuckin’ misogynistic doctors who see it as a “woman’s disease”— yeah, it’s more prevalent in women, but men get it too, and it’s like y’all are told to just… suck it up. “Man up”. Deal with it.

“Honestly… not sure which sucks to be told more, that you’re just “hysterical and attention seeking” for being sick as a woman, or being told you’re just a “whiny baby” if you’re sick as a man.”

Steve only stares at her; Frankie feels warm under his gaze, sinking into the booth.

“Sorry, I— you’re so spot on, I have nothing to add.” Steve’s shaking his head, fidgeting with his napkin. “But I can’t get over that someone my age fucking gets it.”

Frankie sighs, relieved to hear she wasn’t overdoing it with her rambling.

“Steve, I hate that we’re both in pain, but it’s… it’s nice not having to struggle alone, for once.” She stretches her legs under the booth, resting her boots on the cushion on Steve’s side. He mirrors her, sneakers kicking up to  rest next to her. She smiles, nudging his shoe with her elbow. “Copycat.”

“You really lucked out having a dad who’s a doctor,” Steve softly chuckles, and Frankie smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Immediately, he panics he might’ve said the wrong thing. “I- I don’t mean that in a bad way—“

“No, I know you didn’t. He—” Frankie looks off, eyes fixating on the bustling traffic out the window, despite the two of them being seated in the far end of the diner. She looks back to her milkshake, swirling the straw mindlessly. “He wasn’t always a doctor. He wasn’t in the medical field at all, not ‘til I got sick as a kid.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yup. He got tired of taking me to specialists for them to always say I was being overdramatic, or “Oh, she’s a girl, she might just be faking that for attention.” I guess what I was going through made him realize shit had to change for the sake of us sick folks. I don’t know how anyone would be able to juggle a full time job, full time med school, and raising a kid on their own, but he did it. Even if shit is terrible most of the time, I’m grateful to have a dad as incredible as him.”

Steve let Frankie’s words sink in before curiosity took its hold, “He’s a single parent?”

Frankie sips from her milkshake, looking back at Steve as she sits back. “Wasn’t always, but yeah. Never met my mom, she, uh, she was sick, too. Cancer. Passed before my first birthday.”

“Jesus, Frankie… I’m so sorry.”

She shrugs, trying to let the everlasting sting roll off her back. “I heard she was really sweet, and funny. My dad showed me some home movies a few years back, and it was the first time I heard her voice. She was so pretty, and happy, and—“ She shakes her head, scoffing at herself. “God, I’m sorry for rambling.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. If you ever wanna talk about this… or anything, I might not know what to say, but I’ll always listen.”

“Right back at ya’, Steve,” She murmurs, gaze friendly before sipping her milkshake.

“I don’t think you want to know my story,” He tries shrugging it off, as if a chuckle would follow, but never does.

“I do, and I mean that.” She firmly states, locking eyes with him. “But only when you’re comfortable sharing it.”

Steve nods, “Yeah. Maybe someday. Kinda hard to even talk to my therapist still about it.”

“You’ll get there eventually. On your own terms.” Frankie can tell he’s uncomfortable, searching for a change of subject. She looks back at his legs, still next to her in the booth. “Isn’t your leg cold?” She nods to the hole in his jeans, right above his knee.

“Yeah, but I needed to wear my knee brace today.”

“I can sew loose, stretchy fabric in, and snaps to remove it, if that helps,” She slurps down the last of the milkshake. “You cool with hanging out longer?”

Steve can’t suppress the grin that graces his face.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

Frankie’s apartment is in a repurposed warehouse; a large studio, cluttered with art supplies scattered all about. An easel hangs out in the wide open room near a window, with canvasses, both finished and unfinished everywhere surrounding it. Cups and cups of paintbrushes, tubes of paint, pastels, graphite pencils and drawing pads strewn atop nearly every surface. A sewing machine rested snug in a corner of the open room. 

Among it all was the kitchen and living room; down a hallway were the doors to the bathroom, and her bedroom. 

After Steve changes into the sweats Frankie found for him, he enters the main room, holding the sweatpants up by the waistband awkwardly, handing his pair of jeans over to her.

“Sorry, I knew they’d be kinda big, but not that much.” She has jersey knit fabric already cut, sewing snaps to the edges. As she works, she elaborates, “I keep a buncha sizes in clothes, ‘cause my weight fluctuates all the time with flare ups.”

“That’s actually… really smart.”

“Yeah, I got tired of buying and donating the same several sizes over and over. Just easier, and cheaper, to keep ‘em all on hand.” Frankie’s zoned into the impromptu project, so Steve wanders around her apartment, stopping at the kitchen table, blanketed with multiple sketches. 

“I didn’t know you could draw.” He wonders aloud, glancing over the sketch pad papers. There’s a certain style he can’t quite put his finger on with her work; for plain subjects and ideas, they’re incredible.

 Steve turns to the easel with her latest work in progress. It’s a portrait of a woman weeping, holding a mask of her face that’s smiling over her real expression. It’s gorgeous work, but he feels a pang in his chest, wondering if Frankie feels this way more often than not.

“Holy shit, Frankie…” He breathes, recognizing his own struggles through the piece; how often he feels as if he needs to bury his own pain to keep everyone else comfortable. Then again, who hasn’t felt at one point or another they need to cover up how they truly feel?

“I hope that’s a good “holy shit”,” She responds as she continues sewing.

“Your work is amazing,” He’s still staring at the painting, admiring how her art style is slightly unkempt, and leans toward traditional tattoo-style art, but she makes it work somehow; some of the paint bleeds outside the lines, or speckles in random splotches, like watercolors, but it adds character. “Do you just paint as a hobby?”

“I actually had plans to become a tattoo artist, did an apprenticeship and everything,” She murmurs, loud enough for him to hear, but still weighed down with disappointment. She pulls the denim away from the sewing machine, trimming away the loose threads. “Can’t really tattoo when you’ve got unpredictable hand tremors, though. S’why the paintings are such a wreck.”

Oh.

“Shit. That’s…” Again, Steve can’t find proper words of empathy. “I’m sorry.”

Frankie finally glances over her shoulder at him, “Kinda normal for folks like us to leave behind our dreams. Mourn what our lives could’ve been, and what they used to be.”

The familiarity of surrender in her voice hits Steve hard. He might not have had the same dreams to give up to prioritize his health, but it’s still an experience similar to hers. Giving up any dreams or goals he had to accept they probably wouldn’t, couldn’t, come to life. He’s watched his life’s potential slip through his fingers, and has no way of stopping it from vanishing completely.

Mourning what your life was isn’t easy, either. Reminiscing on better health in earlier times of your existence, proof you’ll never be that happy, that healthy again— even if Steve was unhappy deep down in high school, he wishes he had the energy to still fake it.

“Yeah. Fucking sucks.” He mutters. At the same time, Frankie turns to him, holding his jeans out for him to take.

Steve glances over her handiwork, grateful to have soft fabric that’ll finally work with his knee brace, while being removable when it’s too warm out.

“On the bright side, at least you’ve got a friend who gets it now.” She’s speaking softly, with so much, too much, understanding. It helps to finally have a friend who can relate, but with that comes sharing the same emotional hardships, ones that feel endless. 

Still, it’s better than navigating that all on your own.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

It’s been a handful of weeks— maybe about a month and change— since Steve’s life began to feel good again. He’s not sure how long exactly, he just knows since finding a doctor that sincerely cared for his patients, and befriending Frankie, someone his age he could finally relate to, he doesn’t care to keep track of time like a dismal countdown.

He’s not counting the days he feels like a prisoner in his own body anymore.

Timing, though, is always perfectly unfortunate when it comes to Steve’s luck, and life.

On a dull Wednesday night, he and Frankie are closing up the shop before their plans to meet up with Robin at the diner. Steve has had a muted ache in his head since the previous night, but it wasn’t enough to keep him in bed, thankfully. He took some Tylenol earlier in the day, and that helped with staving off most of the pain. Any relief he can find, he happily takes.

The sun isn’t setting as early anymore, a sign winter’s almost at its end; he’s been looking forward to spring, because this cold has done no favors to his aching joints. Until then, he’s still bundling up ridiculously to keep from violently shaking in the cold.

“Hey, Frankie?” He’s looking behind the counter, puzzled. His head feels heavy, thoughts settling in a thick fog. Pushing past it, he asks, “Have you seen my scarf?”

Frankie returns from the tiny stockroom, keys swinging lazily on her finger. “Is it the blue one?”

“No, it’s—“ Steve pauses, hands on the counter to hold himself up from a sudden bout of dizziness. He gives a weak laugh, “I can’t even remember if I wore one at all. Maybe I didn’t.”

Frankie’s quick to notice something’s not right when Steve practically white knuckles the edge of the counter; her firsthand experience with chronic illness is setting off alarms in her head.

“Steve, you should sit down—“ She rushes around to him, pushing the stool towards him. Grabbing his shoulders, she pushes him gently into the chair. “What’s going on?” 

“S’blurry,” Is all he mutters to her. She lifts a hand to his forehead, and he shivers, speaking up a bit more, “You’re always cold.”

She keeps her panic to herself, and rolls her eyes with a tiny smile, pulling her hand away to reach into her bag on the floor; straightening back up with a heavily sticker-bombed water bottle, she hands it to him.

“When’d you last eat?”

Steve shrugs, weakly sipping out of the bottle. “Uh, a few hours ago, I think.” He’s struggling to stay in conversation as the vision in his one eye blurs. “Frankie, I can’t see shit out of this eye.” He points to the right side of his face, hand nearly limp.

“Does your head hurt?”

“Been hurting all day, actually,” He waves his hand in front of his own face, repeating, “Yeah I- I can’t see a damn thing out of this eye.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Wasn’t a big deal ‘til now— shit—“ Steve clutches his head; everything’s too overwhelming. The lights are too bright, the buzz of electricity is too loud, and he feels nauseous. The dizziness is only growing stronger, too. Curling into himself, he doubles over, head in his hands as he leans towards his legs. “God, I hate this.”

Frankie rushes to the light switch across the room, turning off all the lights inside; the only light available is what wanders in from the city outside through the windows. 

There was one crucial detail Steve left out when he confided in Frankie about his ocular migraines: the pain is so intense, it works in tandem with his anxiety, triggering flashbacks of those miserable last few years in Hawkins.

They roll through so quickly in his mind; the first time he fought off a demogorgon with Nancy and Jonathan.  When Steve became a personal punching bag for Billy nearly one year later, the same night he had been roped into fighting off demodogs with the kids, nearly dying multiple times before the sun rose again. The fucked up elevator in Starcourt that plummeted to an artificial hell that also nearly killed him and his friends. He could picture the fists flying at him, his honest answers for the countless times he was asked “who do you work for?” never enough for his captors. 

“Stop, stop, stop—“

Frankie hears Steve whimpering while his flashbacks drag him deeper into the past.

Because who can just forget nearly dying far too many times with your friends before turning twenty? Why forget it when the past just continues to help you survive even further carnage?

His lungs burn while he recalls swimming down to the bottom of the lake, in search of the gate, only to be pulled back down after resurfacing to his friends. It’s not easy to erase the way he fought for his life once dragged into the Upside Down, especially not when the scars refuse to fade, continuing to keep the nightmare alive. Even if his scars blended into his worn, tired skin now, the proof lies in each and every person in the group. Hell, the proof is in anyone from Hawkins.

“Steve—“ Frankie’s voice breaks through to him, only for a moment, too quick to pull him out of this traumatic loop of memories. 

Vecna. Stumbling upon Eddie, nearly dead, in Dustin’s arms. The “earthquake”. Max deep in a coma in the hospital. Watching the Upside Down bleed into reality on this plane of existence. The ultimate downfall of what was once his hometown— once a haven of memories, good and bad, ones that taught him life lessons, ones that he still reminisces on to this day. Leaving behind everything he loved in that shitty little town. Goodbyes with everyone as they all split their separate ways, with hopes and dreams of making the most of a new life somewhere safe.

Hawkins, Indiana was wiped off the map. Wiped from existence to keep the rest of the world safe.

Hawkins was only a memory, now.

Hawkins was gone. 

“Hi, y- yeah, we need an ambulance, my friend, h- he—“

Everyone made it out alive, but what was the point when everyone was hurting badly, one way or another?

What’s the point in surviving if you continue to live in your own personal hell? He thinks, barely making out Frankie reciting the address for the record store. He blindly reaches out for her, still folded over in agony.

Instead of finding her, he finds himself slipping off the chair, hitting the cold, hard floor before abruptly losing his grip on reality. 

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The first thing Steve sees when his eyes weakly flutter open is Frankie. Everything is blurry, but not like before; his vision slowly comes into focus, while the edges of tunnel vision have faded away. A dim, frail smile appears on his face at her sleeping figure, curled up next to him.

Pressure in his head spreads, like there’s an ache about to begin, but it never does, held at bay. That’s when he notices the IV in his arm, prying his eyes open a little more, baffled and trying to sift through the brain fog.

Frankie stirs, eyes squinting open, but once she sees Steve’s awake, her eyes widen; she sits up too quickly, stumbling out of the chair she folded herself into, catching herself at the last minute.

“Steve—“

“Hi Frankie,” He smiles, dopey and sleepy, like he just woke up from a nap, and not a medical scare. She grabs his hand, and he blushes. Looking down at their hands clasped together, a dazed look covers his features. “Your hand’s not very cold. You okay?”

A laugh slips out of Frankie, “I think all the panic made me overheated.” Her bottom lip wobbles, despite Steve’s lips still curved up lazily, “You’re the one in the hospital bed, I should be asking you that.”

“M’fine, I feel great, actually.”

“That would be the drugs doing their job, buddy.” She’s surprised to hear herself giggle, but it rises a weak yet genuine laugh out of Steve. Her thumb softly swipes back and forth on his hand, still in hers. “You scared the hell outta me, Steve.”

His face drops, beginning to realize the severity of the situation, despite gaps of memory to recall on. “I… don’t remember anything.”

“Do you want me to tell you?”

He wordlessly nods.

“Your head hurt all day, but you didn’t tell me until a migraine started,” Frankie sighs, gently pushing his sweat-matted hair away from his eyes. “I think it was an ocular migraine, ‘cause you told me you couldn’t— well, in your exact words, you said “Frankie, I can’t see shit out of this eye”, and then it— you—”

It all floods back to Steve in a flash— his headache that rolled into a sudden, ocular migraine, making him dizzy and weak. How his right eye went blind, then everything hurt, sent him into a panic, and triggered the flashbacks.

“You fell, too, but thankfully you landed on my bag instead of the floor.” She reaches down to his forehead, just above his brow, gently sweeping a thumb across his skin. “There’s a small bruise, but could’ve been worse.”

That, he ignores. Instead, Steve’s heart drops at the thought of what Frankie might’ve heard or seen. Before he can ask, she gathers the courage to tell him.

“You we’re crying, saying ‘I wanna go home’ a- and ‘stop, stop, stop,’” Her fingers grip his hand, shaking. He squeezes back, sobering up fast from the pain medication. “You kept calling out names, calling for Robin, and I- I don’t know who else, but you sounded so hurt, Steve.”

Steve doesn’t even realize he’s crying until Frankie whispers, “oh” and grabs a handful of tissues from the side table, handing them over to him.

“I— goddammit. I’m so sorry, Frankie.” 

“It’s okay—“

He shakes his head, eyes falling shut; he can’t look at her right now, he feels nothing but shame. 

“It’s not. It never will be. I wasn’t trying to hide anything or lie, but I- I- I—“ In the midst of his panic, he remembers the plans they had with Robin.  His bloodshot eyes lock with Frankie’s teary ones. “Shit, does Robin know—“

“She’s on her way. Thankfully she stopped by instead of meeting us at the diner, right when the ambulance came. I asked if Robin wanted to go with you, but she asked if I could instead; she wanted to grab your meds and a few other things.” Frankie reassures him, but Steve can’t shake the guilt, can’t escape the embarrassment. “Robin’s really a great best friend.”

Steve rubs his eyes, nodding as his voice wavers, “Best friend I ever had. I- I’d be dead without her.”

“Give yourself some credit, man.” A familiar voice floats into the room; Frankie and Steve both look across the hospital room to find Robin, along with Eddie and Dustin trailing in behind her.

“It’s definitely that charming stubbornness to survive y’got going on,” Robin teases lightheartedly.

Frankie looks back at Steve, finding his face about to light up, but he just falls apart again. She releases his hand so Robin can hug him. Steve shakes in her grasp, while Robin murmurs “you’re okay, you’re safe”, soft enough for only Steve to hear; Frankie’s still able to catch it, though.

“Wh— what are you two doing here?”

“You picked the best time to go to the ER,” Dustin grins, trying to point out the bright side. “We were gonna surprise you at the diner, but now we get to surprise you here!” Steve’s smile wavers; he wants to be happy to see his friends again, but the sudden visit and multiple voices, louder than Frankie, makes him wince, too.

Still, he finds himself asking, “Dustin, why are you excited about that?” 

“‘Cause, hospitals suck. Unless Eddie and I are in ‘em.” Dustin looks over at Frankie with a questioning, yet friendly look. “Who— oh. Are you Frankie?”

Her cheeks turn rosy while Steve groans, head falling back on the pillow.

Trying to redirect, Eddie teases, “The kid tells no lies, we’re the best free entertainment a hospital can get.” He’s shooting Steve a knowing look that earns a short-lived laugh out of him. 

Now Steve knows how Max felt when she woke from her coma, when Eddie was finally stable enough to leave his room next to hers. How him and Dustin did everything they could, said whatever they could say, to crack a smile on her face.

 It’s the thought that counts, he thinks, grateful to have friends who care. Steve always felt like everyone would forget him when they all left Hawkins behind. After all, he was usually the one looking out for everyone else. Putting them first. Making sure everyone was safe and sound before himself.

How relieved he was to be wrong, for once.

“How you holding up?” Dustin asks,

“Uh… I…”

All of this is overwhelming; Steve’s still trying to process what happened, was in the middle of Frankie retelling details, and now he’s on an emotional rollercoaster from a surprise visit from two friends he hadn’t seen in god knows how long.

On top of all of that, his head is one loud, startling noise or bright light away from kicking off another migraine.

Robin can tell he’s a step away from falling apart, so she jumps in to give him some breathing room. “I think… we should get snacks from the vending machine. Do either of you want anything?” Frankie shakes her head, and Steve only shrugs without an answer. “We’ll be back, ‘kay?” She backs up, gently pushing the two curly heads out of the room despite their protests; the room falls silent once again.

Steve sighs loudly, eyes shutting as he relaxes into the bed. “I love them, but I— it’s just—“

“Bad timing, I get it. There’s nothing wrong with asking for space.” Frankie assures him, then adds, “I should’ve asked too, do you need me to leave?”

“Don’t,” Steve’s cursing himself inwardly for answering so quickly. “Un- unless you wanna leave—“

“I wanna stay,” She answers at an embarrassing speed, making Steve smile. “I— I can stay overnight, if you want. But don’t feel obligated to say yes.”

“They’ll let you do that?”

“Usually, no, but I know the nurse on shift tonight, and she’s incredibly sweet. Told me already I can stay if I need to.” Frankie smirks. “One, tiny upside of being a hospital regular. Honestly, everyone’s nice here, at least who I’ve met.” She stops herself from rambling, glancing at Steve with concern. “You need anything right now?”

Steve murmurs, “No, just cold,” and releases her hand to pull the covers over himself, shivering. As he does, Frankie catches the scar around his neck while the flimsy hospital gown shifts along with him, exposing a sliver more of him than she’s seen. 

He notices her stare, hand flying to his neck in a pathetic attempt to cover it; he’s quick to stammer out an excuse, “Oh that’s, uh, from— it’s actually a long story, but it’s not— it’s—“

Frankie shakes her head, reaching for Steve’s hand to squeeze softly. “You don’t have to tell me anything, not unless you’re ready and want to. Whatever your story is, Steve, it’s for you to tell on your own terms.”

Again, she watches him relax from a tensed state. 

“Thank you, ‘Key.”

She smirks, “Y’know, I only let people I’m close to call me that.”

“Oh- oh, shit, I’m—“ He sits up, about to stammer out an apology, but her free hand gently stops him before pushing him back down slowly. 

“That includes you.”

“Really?”

“Just one condition.”

“What is it?”

“You tell me if you’re in pain. I know that’s nearly all the time, but if you can’t come in, or can’t hang out, you tell me. Hell, if you need, you can call me if you’re home alone and just need to talk about it.” She softly demands and suggests. Steve nods; it’s only fair, especially after tonight’s scare. “Or even if you still come to work or want to keep plans, don’t be afraid to ask for what you need. I’d rather you take care of yourself than push your body past its limits.”

Steve’s mind races around for the right words to return to her, but all he can respond with is a sincere, “Thank you, Frankie.” Then he adds quickly, “All of what you just said, that applies to you too. Got it?” He tries coming off stern, playfully, of course; instead, his lips crack into a smile, but the sentiment is still true.

“Got it, Stevie,” She tries winking, but it looks more like a twitch, and the two burst into giggles. “You make it look so easy whenever you wink!”

Steve just shoots her a smooth, quick wink. In return, he gets her playful eye roll. He finds comfort and safety in the harmless teasing between one another.

Things might’ve gone to hell tonight, but at least Steve didn’t go through it alone.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

When everyone returned to the hospital room, they made sure to keep their tones quiet, soft, and Steve felt some guilt over that, but he reminded himself too that he’s lucky to have friends who accommodate his needs.

He catches Robin, Dustin, and Eddie up to speed, leaving out the gory, telling details of his flashbacks; Robin must’ve warned Dustin and Eddie to not speak about the Upside Down, for Frankie’s sake. And really, for Steve’s sake, too. After his mind ran through every event, every memory, down to the very last detail, he was exhausted. The last thing he wanted to think or talk about was Hawkins, and all the horrors it once contained.

And once proper introductions were made, Steve admired the way Dustin and Eddie automatically included Frankie into every part of the conversation, making sure she felt welcomed among them, too. 

Steve needed this. He needed the distraction, needed the laughter, the inside jokes, with stories explained to Frankie to keep her in the loop. The longer the visit went on, though, the more Steve realized at some point, he’d have to explain everything to Frankie. She told him to take his time, that he wouldn’t ever need to talk about it if he wasn’t ready, but he’d rather get it out in the open sooner rather than later. 

This friendship was something Steve never had with anyone else before, and he was quickly growing attached to the dynamic. He never expected to grow attached to Frankie so fast, either. Or at all.

Visiting hours end, with Dustin hugging Steve a little too tight, apologetic as he loosens his arms when Steve grumbles in pain. Dustin narrows his eyes at Steve, repeating a sentiment from the time they were stuck in the elevator in Starcourt. “If you die, I die. So don’t die.”

“Oh, we changed that one up a bit? Alright,” Robin snorts, and Dustin flips her off.

Meanwhile, Steve only shrugs. “Okay.”

“Some things never change,” Robin mutters, shaking her head.

The older two out of the trio say their goodbyes, too, with Eddie reminding in a sing-song voice, “Gonna bother you again tomorrow, Big Boy.”

“Please, for the love of—“ Steve sighs, sinking under the covers, embarrassed. “Stop calling me that.” Frankie’s lost, but still giggling over the exchanges; he points at her, “No, don’t— do not encourage his nonsense”

“Respectfully, no, I’ll never stop.” He grins while Robin shoves him out of the room. As he’s nearly out the door, he waves and shouts, “Nice meeting you, Frankie!”

Alone, yet again, Frankie bites her lip to contain her laughter, and Steve narrows a glare at her. “Oh, I can already tell you’re gonna be trouble with them.”

“Listen, it’s not my fault your friends are funny and charming.”

“They’re anything but—“

“Oh, I’m telling ‘em tomorrow you said that.”

“Where’s your proof, Amato?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Harrington.” She sticks her tongue out at him.

Laughing, his brows knit together, “I would!”

He tries to conjure a better comeback to throw her way, but his thoughts fizzle out while watching her set up the chairs into a makeshift bed.

“Frankie.”

She spins around, watching Steve lean up on his elbow. “Huh?”

“You’re not sleeping on those chairs. That’s gonna kill your neck. And your back.” Steve deadpans, pulling his glasses off to set them on the nightstand. “And every other joint in your body.”

Frankie snorts, holding her arms out, “Then where am I sleeping, Steve?”

“Up here,” He’s even surprised by his own boldness, but carries through. “With me.”

If one could hold someone’s gaze in a death grip, Frankie would be doing that right now with Steve’s stare; disbelief and skepticism floods through her thoughts.

“Unless that’s too— if you’re not comfortable—“

“Steve,” Frankie pushes past the way her round cheeks flush red, “We gotta stop second guessing ourselves like this.”

“Yeah, but I just don’t want to assume—“

“When you’re close with someone, assumptions are kind of a given. When someone gets you, it’s not offensive.” She holds the extra pillow a nurse gave her earlier to her chest. “I’m okay with it, if you are. And I’m going to assume you are, because you asked—“

“Demanded—“

Her mouth falls open at his bluntness, “Okay, Big Boy, slow down—“

“Francesca,” He groans, falling back onto the pillows, “please do not call me that.”

She laughs softly, tugging the edges of Steve’s lips into a soft smile; he’s a goner. He knows he is. He’s known for awhile now, but her laugh, her smile, solidifies it. 

“Okay, Steven.”

Waving his arm out towards the uncomfortable hospital bed, he sasses, “Will you shut the hell up and get up here?”

“Didn’t know you were so bossy in bed, Steve,” Frankie waggles her brows at Steve, and while he tries rolling his eyes, his face falls back into a deep shade of red she’s been so easily able to pull out of him these days.

“Christ, Amato, do you ever sh—“

“Shut it, man. I’m moving as fast as a cripple can,” She teases, rounding the bed to climb into the empty side. Kicking her boots off, she swings her legs into the bed. There’s just enough room for her, but only if she presses against Steve by just a touch. “If this is too close—“

“It’s not—“

“Okay, well—“

“‘Key?” Steve’s voice wavers, soft and unsure of himself, despite the habitual teasing. “Can you— shit, this is stupid—“

“Whatever it is, it’s not stupid.” She reassures blindly. “Ask me.”

Steve takes a deep breath, nerves seeping through the overly confident demeanor the drugs gave him. “Can you… can—“ He sighs, frustrated with himself, before blurting out, “Can you hold me?”

Frankie doesn’t answer, not verbally; already on her side, she winds her arms around Steve’s torso, hugging him lightly from behind.

“This okay? You’re comfortable?”

He just nods definitively.

“Steve… your gown is open.”

He panics, shooting up and throwing a hand behind himself to try closing the opening, until he feels Frankie shake against him with laughter.

“You’re such a— quit laughing!” Steve laughs as he tries demanding this of Frankie. 

“M’sorry, it was just— the opportunity was there, I had to take it.”

He sighs, suppressing his grin, his chuckles, laying back down. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

“Best place to have one though, no?” Frankie settles down, snuggling closer to him; her position is certain, yet leaves room for Steve to distance himself if he wants. 

He doesn’t answer with words, just tugs her arms closer around his body, her hands to his chest.

“Hey, Frankie?”

“Mhm?”

“Thank you. I know those migraines aren’t exactly life threatening, but…” He trails off, closing his eyes before admitting the truth, “They make it so… so hard to want to be alive. I’m grateful for your help. I’m sorry you had to witness that, but I— you—“ Oh, fuck it. “I didn’t expect to become so attached to our friendship, to you. But… I’m one lucky, unlucky son of a bitch to have someone in my life like you.”

Frankie feels her tears well her eyes; her and Steve are both so easily emotional— it comes with the territory of being sick on a regular basis. Who wouldn’t be? Realistically, how can you expect someone in the depths of internal and external pain to navigate this life with ease?

Neither of them are cured from the security of this friendship, but it’s reassuring to both that neither are alone in this fight against the bodies they pilot, day in, day out. No definite future for either separately, but at least they can navigate it together. 

Frankie’s almost sure Steve’s asleep, so she speaks up to make sure.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

She sighs, pushing her sentiment into words, solidifying the security of their friendship, at the very least.

“Whatever hell you lived through,” Her voice wavers while on the precipice of sleep, barely heard under the heart monitor’s routine beeps. “I’m glad you survived.”

He’s half asleep, heart monitor rolling to a steady crawl “M’glad I survived, too.”

#Steve Harrington x fem!oc #Steve Harrington x oc #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #my fics #accident prone

[marclef]

new About Me post time!!!

hello there! i'm Marclef/Marcus/Marc/whatever you wanna call me, i'm 24 yrs. old, he/him pronouns, and welcome to my blog! here i mainly post fanart as well as dumb things i like, here's a little bit about me!

my biggest interest right now is Pizza Tower, which is probably what most stuff i draw is gonna be, but i may end up doing more in the future! the main tag you can find all of my art here is #my art !

i also do a lot of OC art! the OC i post most about is Eyhm the Cat, who i've been mainly using for Pizza Tower art lately! here's some information/references for her though if you need them!

feel free to draw her (and any other OCs i might post) if you want, i absolutely love seeing other people's art!!

BUT, importantly, here's some important Rules and information you'll need to know while you're here!

i'm proudly and openly Transmasc! 💙💗🤍💗💙 this means you'll probably see me reblogging a lot of silly posts and art i can relate to. if you have a problem with that, i strongly suggest you leave. ANY hate or otherwise offensive speech i see on here will result in an automatic block!

as an adult, i may also sometimes reblog/draw some raunchier content, so if you're younger, please be aware of that! i WILL allow those 17 and younger to follow me, as long as you behave and don't get upset just for the "weirder" things i might post! once again, any misbehaving here will result in a block!

on a similar note.... i will admit that i'm kinda a big Weirdo sometimes. but, if i ever draw/post something that's especially weird, i will make sure to properly warn you about it, so if you still look at it and get weirded out, that's on you!!! please do not leave any rude/weird comments on anything i post or reblog though. likewise, any disrespectful comments on any art here (mine or otherwise) will likely result in a block, so PLEASE BE RESPECTFUL!

i'm still a little shy around new people, but i do like getting messages and talking about my art! feel free to send me asks/messages about stuff, i'll do my best to respond! if i don't, either i don't want to answer, or i'm too nervous to respond right away, but i do see everything that gets sent to me! i might be a bit slow to respond to asks as well, please be patient, but i will try to answer as many of them as i can!

i'm open to art trades, but be aware that i usually only accept if you ask for characters i know! generally this means OCs or characters from stuff mentioned above, i'm more likely to respond if you're somebody i know as well. sorry, i'm still a bit socially anxious, so please don't get upset if i don't respond to you about them!

any other questions you might have though, feel free to ask!

oh, and here's some important links to look at as well!! ⬇⬇⬇

My KO-FI (please feel free to support my art if you like it!!!)

My Artfight (WIP!!! i will get stuff on here soon i swear!!!!!)

DUMB STUFF I'VE DONE!!! :

Pizza Towerria (Pizza Tower texture pack for Terraria)

Fake Peppino for Don't Starve Together

other than that, as long as you follow my rules and respect everything, we should be good here! have fun checking out my blog, and feel free to message me with art requests if you'd like! but... HAVE FUN!!! ✨✨✨

#lookie!!! i told ya i'd get my new pinned post done soon!! now even prettier and 5% more Professional than before! #if i need to make changes as well i will but for now! welcome old friends and new ones as well!! #my art #meet the artist #thankfully most people have been pretty cool about following rules... but any rule breakers in the future better watch out 👁👁 #do not make me banish you to the Shadow Realm for being rude and disrespectful!!!

[figsnpassionfruits]

Paint Away, My Little Dove - Chapter 1

A/N: welcome to my very first fic. This takes place right away the gang arrives at Horseshoe Overlook. It is somewhat canon but you will figure that out as you read. English is not my first language, so in case there is anything you notice, please message me! I hope you enjoy as much as I enjoyed writing this <3 word count: 2k tags: arthur morgan x fem!reader, fluff dividers by: @strangergraphics-archive pictures are from pinterest

Oh yes, the fields of Big Valley. What a sight they were. Each careful brush stroke you were making was an attempt to recreate the unforgettable beauty of the scenery in front of you. The love-songs of the birds around you filled the silence in the air as you dipped your brush into one color, then into another, to create the shade you needed for the details of the Bluebonnets. All day you’ve been sitting on your small wooden stool, your glutes and back slightly sore, but the will to finish this piece before the sun went down was stronger than the pain.  

Your two horses were to your side, roaming around the violet flower field. In order to make them comfortable you had removed them from your wagon and their reigns. Every once in a while, you would hear their hooves stomp on the ground as they were snacking on the fresh grass. Spring was just starting to come in. ‘The grass must be tasting sweet for them’, you thought to yourself.

Most of your days were spent like this. It included finding a pretty spot with different elements of nature, such as mountains, trees, riverbanks and forests. Then you would proceed to paint it on your canvases. Some paintings were small enough to fit into a saddlebag, others big enough to compliment homes. Your wagon was able to stash all your supplies and works. At the end of each day, you would pack up everything, set up a camp, and sleep, excited to see where the next day and trail would bring you to. After the soreness in your wrists starts to settle in, building up too much discomfort to ignore, you would go into the nearby town to sell your art. Earning a living with art is not necessarily easy, but it is most definitely amusing, especially when you encounter folks who do not really know about the value of it. Therefore you knew your target group: People with too much money in their pockets who do not question the overly-expensive prices. Sure, sometimes it would work, other times it would not. But it was enough to get you food to fill your belly and the supplies you needed to get by.

Scrunching your eyebrows, you swat away the bees buzzing near your ear, annoyed at them pulling you out of your focus.

“What’cha painting there?”

“Whatever is in front of me…” You mumbled. You couldn’t help but let out a tiny sigh, followed by small eyeroll, before turning around swiftly, facing the stranger who asked. “Could you please leave?”

“Excuse me?” He chuckled.

Placing your brush on the small wooden plate of the stand in front of you, you rubbed your temple. “I apologize-“ You giggled. “I just get so caught up in my work. Can’t afford no distractions.”

“Aghhh” The stranger groaned, getting down from his horse, “I get it. No apology needed.” He said, putting his hands up in a light-hearted way, as he kept walking towards you. By closing the distance between both of you, you allowed yourself to take a better look at him, analyzing his clothes, trying to understand who or what he was. Maybe a potential customer? What price range could you offer him, which would be enough to profit you, but not too much to the point of scaring him away. Or maybe, he was perhaps just a curious man, intrigued by people. In that case, offering him a price was maybe not a necessary thing to do. Weighing out your options, you decided to be blunt and tell him right away.

“Seventy-five for this one.”

The stranger took a step back, looking back and forth between you and the unfished painting. “Seventy-five?!” He exclaimed. “The yellow in that better be liquid gold.”

A small shrug with a self-satisfied smile is what he got in return.

He was indeed very handsome. Broad shoulder that stretched his shirt, beautiful light eyes that could reflect objects in his vision like a mirror and a mustache slightly longer than his stubble. He seemed like a well-groomed man. Well-groomed usually equivalents to a decent amount of money. Unless he was a con-artist.

“Beautiful horses ya got there” He nodded over to the direction of where your wagon was placed.

Following his point of direction, you turned around. Those horses really were beautiful, such as the bond you had with them. “Thank you.” You replied softly.

A small moment of silence occurred as you both individually took in the scenery and everything nature had to offer for you. It truly was beautiful. The way the snowy mountains up north were looking over the river, which was flowing through the flower field, seemed unreal. The combined sounds of the birds, bears, coyotes, deer and bees further blocked out your other senses. It was peace.

“How come you haven’t painted ‘em?”

“Hm?” You hummed.

A small giggle left his lips as he smiled, his eyes glued to his slightly dirt-covered boots for a split second. “Ya horses. How come you haven’t painted ‘em?” He repeated, kicking a few small stones around.

“Oh- I guess… I just like sticking to landscapes. Haven’t really figured out how to make the animals look good.” You admitted.

He nodded understandingly, his gaze roaming around the fields again. Unexpectedly, he took another step towards you, offering you his wide and strong looking hand. “Arthur Morgan”

You waited for a second yet flashed him a small smile right before you bit your lip. “Y/N L/N” The corners of your lips quirked up as you shook the hand in front of you with your own.

Arthur stepped away, tilting his hat down as a polite gesture. “See ya around, Miss.”

“See you, Mr. Morgan.”

..................................................

Valentine… What a lively little town. It had everything you’d need to make a home. A butcher, a store, livestock, a stable and even a saloon. Yet, this was not something you could think about. Having no one to lean on to was not the most uncomplicated thing in the world. But it does allow you to harden your shell and intuitively create different paths of survival. Travelling around was yours.

You had set up a small stand near the theatre, your paintings displayed for every passing person to see. Your horses were in the stable, getting treatments you could never afford for yourself. After all, they were the ones doing all the pulling and walking. If anyone deserves a day off like that, it was them. Strangers would pass by, some only glancing at your creations, others stopping for a few only to admire them. And then they were people who bought. The local folks here had already gotten used to you. This was a great spot to sell, especially during the tourist seasons. The hotel was never empty during this time of the year. The fancy and rich from up north loved the sun. So, to take advantage of those, you would come here twice a year. Anytime they would show up, you were here as well. Waiting for potential customers could get a tad bit boring but sitting on a nice cushion helped.

You were picking out the dirt from under your nails when precipitously the Sheriffs frame came into your sight.

“Miss L/N! How are you this fine afternoon?” He cheered as he walked past.

“Thank you, Sheriff, I am fine.” You smiled back at him, finally leaving your nails alone. Your eyes followed his strut, trying to block out your envy. He was a man after all. Being a woman in these times was not easy. A home was something you could only dream of if you belonged to a man, whether that is being a daughter or a wife. Legally owning property? That was not anything that women should even be thinking of.

The sound of wooden wheels rolling and cheery singing of female voices made you glance towards the direction it came from. It was a wagon, its back filled with women, each more gorgeous than the other, while the front had two men seated on it. Once the movement and tunes came to a halt, everyone on it got off, splitting ways on where to go. Yet one of the men came right towards you.

“Miss L/N.” Arthur greeted, trailing to you and your tiny gallery.

Attempting to block out the sun with your hand, you smiled up at him from your cushion. “Hello, Mr. Morgan. Changed your mind on the seventy-five dollars?”

“God, no.” He snickered, bending down to take a better look at one of the smaller paintings. The lake portrayed in it seemed familiar to him. ‘Of course’ Arthur thought. ‘How could I forget this place.’. It was the small cabin at O’Creagh’s Run, which belonged to the veteran he occasionally hunted with.

“You seem to like that one, though.” You pointed out.

“Ya didn’t say this was seventy-five. Scared me off with the one from Big Valley.”

‘Yeah, maybe that was a bit too much.’ You pondered as you clicked your tongue. Before allowing silence to settle in, you asked him what he was doing here.

“Could ask you the same thing.” He said amused.

Even though you only had two conversations with this man, it was fun. The back-and-forth banter was not something everyone could keep up with you, let alone a man who would not get offended by a sassy woman.

“I get by here usually twice a year. The tourists love the landscapes. Makes their homes look nice. You should try.” You suggested.

Arthur let out a small chuckle, this time thoroughly taking his time looking through your art. His gaze was fixated on the smaller canvases. One of those could fit nicely into his saddlebag. Not that he had the space for a bigger piece. Roaming his eyes between two, one that looked similar to the Dakota River, the other a smaller version of the floral area around O’Creagh’s Run. The positive association of his friendship with the veteran Hamish made him point at the second one. “I like that one.”

You turned, picking up the named piece. “This one I would give out for fifty, since it is obviously smaller. But for you, since we are now associates,” You giggled “I will hand it out for… thirty-five.”

Even though this offer was better than the other, Arthur could not help but shake his head, a smile not going unnoticed. “Alright, alright.” He pulled out the money from his pocket. “Only because it’s near a friends house.”

You took his money, whispering the numbers while counting. “Hamish?” You asked.

“Yeah.” It sounded more like a question than a statement. “Ya know the old fella?” Arthur questioned, while taking the painting into his hand.

You hummed, putting the money into your small leather purse. “He took me in one night while I was freezing up there. Sometimes a tiny camp is just not enough. Ever since then I see him as my pa. He’s the sweetest.” You explained, keeping eye contact with Arthur. This was the longest you have had continuously looked at him. His good looks you already have noticed the first day you met. But today, it seemed to sink in. The question of what he was- you still could not answer. “I will head back to him soon. Been out here for weeks now. He must be really worried, too.”

‘That makes sense.’ He thought. No wonder he has not seen you with Hamish before.

“Well, thank you for buying something, Mr. Morgan.” You smiled.

“Please, call me Arthur.”

- 🍯

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #paint away

[thesunpersists]

re: your tags on that unused cf script you are so right. hunger games movies you are not valid

the post

THANK YOU!!

the dialogue is always so weird in the movies, especially in everlark scenes. it is so frustrating because the books have AMAZING & MEANINGFUL dialogue that could convert really well to screenplay

it would be another thing if they changed things a little bit to convey the same feelings and messages but NOPE! it is a whole other, hollow story. so much so that I can’t understand how anyone who hasn’t read the books could buy that katniss likes -let alone loves- peeta

anyways, I am back to pretending the movies don’t exist. i can't bear to see jlaw's face since she publicly supported amy schumer, anyway

#hater to my core #the hunger games #everlark #thg movie rant #thank you for the ask!

[fighting-these-demons]

Royal Flush Haunted Honk - The Updated Bones!

Hello Internet Stranger looking up G Gundam on Tumblr dot com!

This is an idea for a Horror Alternate Universe involving Queer Non-Canon Relationships between the characters of the series.

It is based on the idea in the post that is linked above.

If you are not looking for this content please scroll on.

If you ARE looking for this content - and you're ok with reading my and other's Headcanons for this Alternate Universe I've haphazardly spun up -

Then go ahead and feel free to:

Check The Tags Of This Post For The Pairings

and click the Read More below!

Also the majority of the brainstorming is happening in the replies if you're so inclined.

--------------------------------

Behold! The Update! It's the bare bones intro and the outline! It's 2.5K! Whoops! 😅

Some of this is just straight copy and pasted from the notes and other bits have been lightly reworded or built upon to connect to other bits.

I've gotten some scenes sent to me by @thedragonchilde that I loved and I think will fit in well with what we've got so far for the fic.

If you'd like to link or reblog them please do!

@amplexadversary feel free to message me or reblog with scenes you've thought up or written up! I can't wait to read them!

I think we've set the stage pretty well to start brainstorming the horror and whump! 😃

I'll see y'all in the replies for ideas on new plot points! 🪦💥🌩

-----------------------------

This is backstory and general outline only.

It is barely edited. Typos abound.

The dialogue is extremely minimal and it is a framework upon which to build the fic. 💖

I am giving this explanation for the benefit of internet strangers as all parties working on this fic are already familiar.

Hello Internet strangers! 👋

--------------------------------

Wherever the tendrils of the Devil Gundam hovered over the earth, and subsequently were destroyed, are places that may have had DG cells distributed through the atmosphere.

Atmospheric DG plumes have lead to DG infection in those areas. There's also likely tendril debris.

Neo-Japan, since the Devil Gundam's destruction,  has been working with Neo and world governments on a cure for DG infection.

At the moment the current treatment involves Kyoji or Schwarz controlling the DG cells of the individual and shutting them down; however, they are making breakthroughs with advancements on a nanocite injection that they're synthesizing with an executable program that shuts the DG cells down.

The biological compatibilities are the hurdle at the moment as evidenced in animal testing.

Kyoji and Domon are traveling to some sites in the USA that were affected by tendrils. Domon is there as a body guard since Schwarz is handling infection cases elsewhere (unspecified).

Chibodee is their escort. America is a Different Beast to Japan even in the future. So they'll need an escort to get through the militant landscape and across the sheer distance of it all.

Rain wanted to come with them, but with the volatility of the current landscape of the US - Especially where they're going - Kyoji didn't want to needlessly risk her safety.

He's assured her that Domon, Chibodee, and Chibodee's team will be watching his back.

Dr. Kasshu will be with them for the first days in New York to help with setup of the mobile lab before heading back to Neo Japan to continue working alongside Rain.

Once they've rested and are ready to head out, Domon, Chibodee, Kyoji, and The Gals will take Neo America's Core Lander and a mobile lab to the TD Site and it should be a fairly straight forward affair since they've gotten permission from the national and state governments, as well as permission from Gunsinto to be in the area.

They shouldn't be more than a few days travel to get there and retrieve samples and data and get back. He should be gone a week at the absolute most.

Kyoji gives rain the contact info to their hotel in New York as well as their sponsored Gunsinto accommodations in the Midwest and lets her know that he'll call once they've arrived palnetside.

He makes good on that promise the next day, letting Rain know that their shuttle landed, Chibodee and the girls picked them up without hassle, and lets them know that they're set to have a great dinner at a favorite restaurant of Chibodee's that evening.

Seeing Chibodee is like a breathe of fresh air that Domon didn't know he needed. Life has been so needlessly complicated lately but after Chibodee releases him from the bear hug given in greeting and throws an arm over Domon's shoulders they fall into step as if they'd never been apart.

Keeping in touch wasn't exactly easy. Domon doesn't respond quite as often as Chibidee would like, but every message Chibodee left was listened to and saved.

Ever since they got wind of this mission it's all either of them has had on their minds for days.

I need some help here with feelings and dialogue and inner thoughts but Basically

They both independently realize with clarity over the days leading up and the time in New York how much they've missed each other and how easy and comfortable it all is - being teamed up again.

Domons semi-recent revelations and feelings fresh on his mind. Chibodees crush ever looming.

Hearts racing. Feeling lighter than they have in God Knows How Long. Chibodee smiling so much his face cramps. Domon feeling so comfortable and nearly zen he loses his permanent frown from constantly thinking and just vibes. Smiling occasionally even!

Chibodee proposes they spar real quick before dinner "To work up an appetite! And C'mon! I wanna see what I'm up against in the upcoming Gundam Fight!" With a grin slamming his left fist into his open right hand. (He's left handed right? Or was that someone else?)

They Spar and there's Feelings

(I have a small scene outline put together for the spar for your consideration. @thedragonchilde has submit 2 scenes that would be great for just after the spar and are an awesome read! I'll include my outline for the spar scene in a reblog)

Then they have dinner together and later part to settle in their hotel rooms for the evening. 

The next day they focus on briefing the expedition and setting up the Mobile Lab that The Gals will be in charge of transporting. 

Once the lab is set up, they see Dr. Kasshu off on his shuttle back to Neo Japan that has been on standby since they arrived.

Kyoji volunteers to ride with The Gals under the excuse of getting a head start on some data processing - to give Domon and Chibodee some time alone together. 

Chibodee is not about to let himself be alone in a Core Lander with Domon for HOURS. He may blurt out something he regrets. He insists that Kyoji ride with them and leave the Gals to themselves.

As they make their way out west, Chibodee starts explaining why they'll want to keep their guard up. 

There's been a lot of unrest recently and especially the last 10 years since Gunsinto bought out the last of their land and displaced so many communities. 

Domon asks occasional questions but Kyoji isn't saying much of anything at all. Opting to rest most of the journey. Domon seems tense, which is understandable considering the events before they left New York. 

Suddenly they hear gunfire and what might be a canon of some kind. 

They expected resistance outside of Gunsinto territory but they didn't expect it after they crossed the border!

Aren't the Greenlords supposed to be patrolling the area???

So they're on the run from a group that blames Domon and Kyoji for all the bullshit post DG Incident. The group is made up of various parties working together to hold Neo Japan responsible for their crimes against humanity since nothing held up in court and Neo Japan is currently in control. Plus near endless bitterness at America's loss of Super Power status for decades and the effect that that has had on their economy and natural resources put under stress from these Big Space Battles. 

Chibodee and The Gals are aware of THIS group of violent individuals… but they're not aware of the OTHER group of violent individuals. (The Clown gangs are kept under wraps by the Greenlords - Gunsinto's private militia similar to to the Pinkertons as going public would be an embarrassment and an open invitation to more trespassers.)

They have a good idea of what weapons they have at their disposal and what their general tactics are. 

They decide to split up and have The Gals create a distraction to lure the majority of the aggressors off before rendezvousing close to the TD Site in this region.

After they split, the core lander has some issues and breaks down in the middle of nowhere. As they break down Kyoji has an awful headache. There's a terrible signal he can feel and he knows it affected the core lander's processors but he's not sure what it is. 

(It's a device that broadcasts a malicious signal that infects the processing units of hovering vehicles - was gonna be an emp but realized that would mess up their gps. It has only a very mild effect on DG cells it seems. Their GPS was made by the Kasshus with DG tech so it's unaffected. - Their communicator was issued by Gunsinto and was not so lucky - it's dead.)

Luckily for them their map data integrated into their GPS shows there should be a former town nearby.

The nearest town is seemingly abandoned. There's simply not enough water here according to Chibodee. 

The only building not completely crumbled is a lone Motel. Chibodee curses his Rotten Fucking Luck. (Clown Music!)

They're exhausted from carrying their emergency supplies through the heat of the day. They're not going any further. This will have to be it. Domon is clearly tense and Chibidee seems about to jump out of his skin but Kyoji doesn't really know why. He could be over sensitive after sitting with their tension in the core lander and then walking with them through the heat. 

Chibodee considers attempting to convince them to camp outside but with the wind picking up as bad as it is, he has no leg to stand on. They'll be sleeping inside. 

Strange though. There's a light on. That's odd.

----------------------

Meanwhile The Gals have incapacitated the pursuers after radioing in help from the Greenlords who are cooperating on this mission. 

They're of course like “Whaaaaaat? That's Crazyyyyyyyyy.” And don't breathe a word of the Other Issue inside The Fields. Instead electing to simply refuel the mobile lab and send some extra men with The Gals as escort.

The girls start back on their journey to Rendevous with the guys. 

The arrive at the TD Site with no sign of the guys. After waiting 2 hours they decide to try and ping their location. 

There's no result. What they assumed was poor signal is worrying them now.

As they double back in the direction the guys should have been coming from they discover the crashed Core Lander and some prints headed South West.

They check their maps of the area which indicate a former town a few miles south west. They hop in their mobile lab and head that way. 

When they make it to the town, the only standing structure is a Clown Themed Motel that looks like it was pulled straight out of a historical classic horror film. 

They share a look. There's no way Chibodee would be here. They decide to check for other towns and head further south.  Eventually as it starts to get dark the escort advises that they head to the designated accommodations for the evening and the Greenlords will start a search.

Kyoji kept his word to Rain that he and his father would check in when they arrived in New York. When the second day stretches on with no word Rain starts to worry.

Her father has made it home, but she's still heard no word from Kyoji.

On Rain's 5th call in as many hours -at about 2:00 AM- The Gals answer.... it's Bad News.

They've been separated by a roaming militia group hellbent on serving American Justice to these Neo Japan Planet Destroyers. The Gals were supposed to Rendevous with Chibodee and the guys at the TD site but they never showed and they didn't find them on their way to the Gunsinto Accomodations either.

The Gals reassure her that the Greenlords and Gunsinto are starting a search and they should have word soon.

Dread starts to settle in the pit of Rain's stomach.

------------

Meanwhile The Guys walk into the Hotel expecting it to be abandoned. It certainly looks that way from the outside. 

As they walk in though, they meet a rather average looking man smoking a cigar and watching some movies on a TV in the corner of the dark Lobby. 

He looks surprised (he isnt) and quickly stubs out his cigar in the ash tray nearby before walking into the only light in the lobby by the front desk.

He welcomes them with a smile and asks how many guests. Letting them know that unfortunately he's only got one room available and There's Only the One Bed. He asks if that's alright.

Chibodee sputters. Shocked that there's someone here at all. He asks as much and the man says that the Hotel is a side business of the Greenlords’ for “Employee Services” if you catch his drift.

Average guy asks after them as he's never seen them before. Kyoji has a bad feeling and smooths things over by advising that they're there as horticultural graduate students studying genetic modification with their Professor and a few other students. Kyoji tells a tale of how they got separated in the fields and this was the closest area with shelter according to their map data.

The Average guy is surprised to hear that they have a functioning GPS and says that this area has bad signal. It's a blessing they can find their way.

He directs them to their room and leaves back toward the lobby.

Kyoji has a bad feeling. He can sense a ton of corrupted DG cells nearby. Somewhere underground, but isn't sure why or what it means. 

He also keeps getting flashes of screaming men and women in clown costumes….

He relays as much to Domon privately as Chibodee is clearly already on edge and doesn't need any more stress. 

Kyoji asks Domon if Chibodee is alright. Domon informs him that clowns and clown imagery is a problem but there's really nothing they can do about it in this situation. His fists are clenched. Domon i's pissed they have to stay here.

Kyoji takes a moment to let Domon know he'll take the floor and for Chibodee and Domon to take the bed. This throws Domon for a loop, but before he can argue Kyoji insists that out of the 3 of them he can probably take the most stress and that Chibodee looks like he needs someone to sleep next to. 

Kyoji also mentions that he'll be blocking his hearing on a nano level to give them privacy in case they need to talk. Domon is a bit flustered by this but decides to take it in stride and go to Chibodee who is pacing and silently melting down. He looks like he's about to both through the window and back into the fields. 

Domon puts a hand on Chibodee’s shoulder and suggests they go ahead and bunk down for the night. 

He and Domon each take a seat on the end of the bed while Kyoji remains standing and they discuss Watch Rotation.

It'll probably be better to have 2 people awake and 1 person resting at any given time.

None of them trust this guy at the front desk. Especially not Kyoji.

-------------------------

Not sure how to segue from bunking down to the horror bit below gracefully; but I know we need to.

I feel like it's the perfect time for Domon and Chibodee to take Kyoji up on his offer of audible privacy to have a quick heart to heart..... before it's unfortunately and terrifyingly interrupted. 😨

Mostly because I'm mean. 😂

-----------------------

My first thought for 4 is that it probably looks like a normal-ass bed but in the middle of the night when both the guys are like half asleep, a clown hand bursts up from the center of the mattress in a classic zombie style Then an improbable amount slowly crawl out of that same hole as Chibodee drags Domon to the door (Domon for his credit is ready to beat a clown with another clown)

Since the FC does have the lightest touch of Newtype bullshit (mostly seen in the Schwarz/Rain chase scene where Schwarz gets the newtype flash), I'm interested in it being ghosts because the NT thing sometimes goes that way.

Ghosts usually have some kind of backstory as to why they're around, and I think it fits the setting to have a sort of clown culture war going on

so you have gangs like the one that killed Chibodee's mom, and then you get ordinary clowns going vigilante to hunt the ones that do that down for flagrant violation of the clown code

But the problem with vigilantism is you sometimes get the wrong guy, so that eventually happens and another group of clowns goes vigilante to go after the first group because they've gone bad (doesn't matter whether or not this is true for our purposes). And then you get more guys like the original circus terrorists playing themselves off as vigilantes as an excuse to kill people.

So now you have a clown gang war and more clown terrorists than you started with. And with the other problems Earth and the Colonies have it isn't *really* a big enough deal for anyone outside of the business to really care, so you get a sort of uneasy status quo with occasional bursts of clown violence.

The motel in question has a ghost problem because it's a former base of operations of a clown gang, where they would frequently dispose of their clown victims.

Chibodee is not at all aware of this. Or else he never would have agreed to this. He would have had some sort if Military backup. Gunsinto and The Greenlords have kept this under wraps to avoid broadcasting their farm territory as terrorist territory.

The clowns were affected by DG cells pre-murder and with Kyoji nearby they seem to be activating.

Yikes.

Kyoji can affect DG cells in a lof of situations... but can he affect them to his advantage here???

-----------------------

Stay Tuned to Find Out!

#Royal Flush Haunted Honk AU #Haunted Honk #Domon/Chibodee #Chibodee/Domon #Kyoji/Rain/Schwarz #The Gals #domon kasshu #chibodee crocket #there's only one bed #At the Clown Motel #royal flush #Belatedly realizing I forgot the backstory about Gunsinto whoops. I'll add it later.

[timot-ei]

Thanks

I had a lot of new followers lately. I just wanted to say thank you for being interested and I hope you enjoy my work and have a lovely day.

#furry #timot-ei #thank you #it really means a lot #I especially love the messages in the tags #They're super nice and brighten my day and I love reading them #furry art #furry oc #fur affinity #furry character #fursona #sfw furry #fur #my art #artwork #art #artists on tumblr #digital art #illustration #art tag #old art #drawing #pink aesthetic #soft pink #pink #curvy and cute #curvy girls #🐩

[pepimeinrad]

nononononono PLEASE the strings-version of Gnossienne No. 5 is ON THE OFFICIAL S2 SOUNDTRACK??!?

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd soundtrack #ofmd music #mark mothersbaugh #I was already over the moon to have the 'escape plan' bit which I loved so much during episode 3 #but to have THIS too??!?!? #this weekend I will be dying over the ofmd soundtrack I guess #(and rewatching episode 8 over and over) #also if anyone reads these tags and knows more about the tracks used in the show - especially the classical pieces - message me! #I want to make a full list of all the bits and pieces of music used in this show #complete with timestamps and stuff #ollie's log #Youtube

[butterflysonnets]

yes i'm rooting for m*leven breakup because byler is neat but mostly? i'm rooting for m*leven breakup for the sake of el and mike.

to me, their romance was always a puppy love born out of a combination of social pressures, naïve curiosity, and a lack of true understanding regarding intimacy and romantic love and what it really is. it was real in that they do truly, deeply care about each other and they are close friends, maybe even shared an attraction, but a maturing romance is so much more than that. they've grown up and out of being boyfriend/girlfriend, and that's okay! i think television/film needs to show more often that most of us don't have definite "soulmates" or first childhood loves that we spend our whole lives with. it doesn't mean these relationships meant nothing and didn't impact us, it just means they've run their course and that something else is in the cards, and this is part of life!

i've always felt el was at her best and most confident self when broken up with mike, discovering who she was and what she liked alongside another girl her age instead of just relying on mike for mentorship on how to live in the real world. she deserves more of an opportunity to find herself, her autonomy, and her independence, and to love who she is, and she's made it clear she's felt insecure in the relationship with mike because she isn't being loved and understood the way she wants, needs, and deserves from someone who is her partner.

also, it's okay if mike doesn't love her in "the way he should". he is not obligated to love her romantically and stay in a relationship with her just because she's a girl, because she "needed someone", or because he cares about her a lot. he shouldn't be pressured into a romance if it's not truly coming from his heart. he deserves freedom to find out and honour who he is, too, instead of just staying in his non-functional first relationship — one he got into as a child, essentially — and defining himself that way because it's what's expected when a boy and a girl are close. he loves her in some way, yes, but it's okay if he doesn't feel comfortable or secure being her boyfriend anymore, for whatever reason that is. he's felt insecure too, and that's valid and it matters.

they are their own people and are steadily growing and changing every day. they need time to figure out who those people are, and it's become clear (at least in my opinion) that those people aren't meant to be a couple at this stage.

they deserve freedom. they deserve to grow up and be authentic to themselves and not feel like they need to lie for the sake of a relationship. they deserve to move on from this version of their relationship that isn't making them happy and rekindle the best part of their bond: their strong, beautiful friendship. they don't have to be a couple if it doesn't make them stronger and better and happier people.

i think it would be healthy and wonderful for a show, especially one consumed frequently by young adults, to show a relationship starting, progressing, and ending on good terms in this way. sometimes things don't work out, and that is okay.

#eve text #elmike #stranger things #byler #only tagging byler because i feel like yall will like this take lol #tagging tagging tagging WHAT ARE EVERYONE ELSE'S THOUGHTS #god i can't believe i'm making a post about stranger things. this feels like poking a bear #i'm not particularly anti m*leven but like... they'd have to do something pretty special at this point for me to feel like it's viable #i'm seeing the bts of s5 and it's got me Having Thoughts #elmike friendship is something i am so passionate about #even before i ever liked byler (didn't ship at all until s4 even though i knew it was a thing before) i've felt this way about elmike #i always believed they were close friends at heart and needed to break up #the romance part of them felt very distinctly young and very much “he was a boy she was a girl” to me #and it hasn't deepened into anything more mature and i don't see how it could based on the current state of the writing... #the fact that lumax exists — a young relationship that is actively maturing and is healthy — makes that clear to me #and the “love confession” in s4 and how disingenuous and miserable it felt was just the nail in the coffin #also the fact that will (who is IN LOVE with mike) was instrumental in making it happen? ... uh... okay... interesting choice… #fucked up and reductive if they make it another queer unrequited love sacrifice for the sake of pushing the heterosexual agenda YUCK #so i really hope the speculation about a m*leven breakup is real!! i think it just makes sense for their characters but who knows #i don't believe in the notion of love at first sight or one true love and i think the writers don't too??? #love to me is an accumulation of experiences and we inevitably choose it at some point rather than fall into it... but idk #tv is so fixated on keeping couples together... sometimes it's just not reality guys especially with young people... LET IT GO... #like i said though i'm not 100% sold that they're going to give up their “golden couple” LMAO #stranger things hasn't historically subverted too many tropes if i'm being honest #anyway i seriously need this season to come out quickly... i'm so bored and getting my master's is crushing my soul #i need frivolity #ALSO btw i won't respond to hateful messages about this so please don't bother. it's not that serious. this is a netflix show

[oneluckydragon]

So I decided to spin the wheel by @onefey since I saw so many mutuals getting really cute PMD Teams.

Meet hero Lucky (Girafarig) and partner Biggs (Wimpod). Never in my life have I considered a Girafarig as my potential PMD-sona but here we are despite it all. Even though I was skeptical at first I am now in permanent love.

Gotta think of an Exploration Team name now... hm.

#tagging you per request onefey #what a fun little thing you did thanks for giving me an excuse to doodle #i'm enlightened now i'm a changed person #i've always been kinda “eh” about girafarig especially the shiny but now i think i might genuinely love them #also i'm very average height so the idea of evolving into something tall like farigiraf is hilarious to me #and wimpod... my beloved #i could not have gotten a better partner i love golisopod so much #to all my mutuals out there... if you're reading this i am alive but only barely #i have not forgotten you guys and i think about you daily despite disappearing off the face of the earth #been pushing myself to try and be online again but things have been rough #to anyone that has sent me discord messages that i haven't replied too-- #--i promise i read them and they made me smile #i'll try to talk to you guys soon! <3

[sneez]

corvin

[id: two digital drawings of corvus from the video game paladins. he is a pale-skinned young man wearing a red and black caped coat with the collar pulled up over his mouth, and has brown hair with a white streak. the first image is a portrait of him from the shoulders up alongside a full-body drawing. text beside it reads 'guy who really needs to stim but isnt letting himself so hes just standing about looking intensely uncomfortable'. the second image is a full-body drawing of him holding his pistol and knife in an action pose against a background of scenery from the game. overlayed text reads 'I'M JOINING THE WAR AGAINST AUTISM ON THE SIDE OF THE AUTISM'. end id. ]

#paladins champions of the realm #pcotr #how do i tag him he doesnt have a surname does he. or does he <- guy who doesnt know the lore #paladins corvus #that should do it. im a tagging master #anyway i have been playing more paladins than is good for my health recently and i love this guy a lot #i love For The Greater Good characters especially when they are extremely autism also #it makes me so sad that so many people hate him. i mean i get why but also Hes fun :( and sillay #my entire perspective on him changed once i realised he was autistic (which was almost immediately tbf) #everything made sense. enlightenment #anyway i cant decide if i would recommend paladins because it has kind of ruined my brain and also my sleep #schedule but if any of you already play it/play it in the future im VictorKain over there :-) #can you guess who i main. anyway feel free to friend me (altho i wont know who you are unless you message me first) #i hope you are all doing well my friends! i still have some things to answer im sorry about that i am a slow beaft #i love you all very much. kiss you on head #artwork

[goldkirk]

When did the latest 1,000 of you follow me??? good lord hi and welcome, I should maybe pay attention to my notifications and activity page more 😭

#I’m not sure if you showed up about fanfiction or from one of my brief hyperfixations or from the cult post or from Star Trek or batfam #but hi welcome hello! #it’s just this! it’s just this. all the time. I bounce interests and recycle old ones #and share way too much personal life on this blog #especially in post tags #and i really love talking with people but most of the time my brain treats messages and asks and emails and texts #as if they are a deadly danger #so I WILL take up to 7 years to respond #but please know it haunts me every day #and I will get to it eventually #even if it’s long after you unfollowed me potentially #anyway. in this house we stan fairness and authenticity and compassion towards both others and self #and we are a pro skepticism and pro sourced-information and pro scientific research around here #AND obsessed with experiencing existence through the realm of story #I hope you enjoy your time here! you can always stick around and I’m happy to see you #but absolutely unfollow me at any time! curate your online experience! it should be good for you #when I or my blog no longer spark joy #please unfollow. I literally do not care. your experience is supposed to be nice for you #take what serves you and leave the rest. #this is just tumblr. you have a whole life #I’ll never be mad #👍 #2024 #this is a lot of followers. like not five digits a lot but INCOMPREHENSIBLE numbers to ME regardless lol #thanks for following whatever your reason was

[demons-i-get]

WAIT BIG BRAINED THOUGHT:

Sam does smth stupid hoping Dean won't find out.

Someone rats Sam out to Dean.

Sam gets in trouble and a lecture from Dean (bc Dean is a parent and he is Sam's parent I will not accept criticism on this matter).

Later, Sam makes a group chat consisting of everyone who could have told on him to Dean and just sends this video:

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester is sam winchester's parent #and i will be accepting NO criticism on this matter!!!! #dean raised sam and in my heart i just know that its smth they dont really talk abt but they both 100% know and acknowledge it #and sam (the annoying little brother/kid) that he is to dean definitely calls dean 'mom' sometimes especially when hes being a little shit #but sam also loves his big brother and appreciates everything deans done and given up for him #so every year dean gets a pie and a little homemade card on mother's day and father's day from sam #when they were younger sam would give dean the card and actually say 'happy mother's/father's day dean' but once theyre older sam starts #sneaking the pie and card into dean's room or leaving them somewhere he knows dean will find them and neither of them say anything but dean #always gives sam a soft smile and usually a hug too before they continue w/ their day like its any other #the year dean spends w/ lisa and ben while sam's in hell/running around soulless ben makes dean a father's day card and dean gets all teary #and thanks him but then later when hes alone he just breaks down sobbing bc it just remimds him that sammy is gone #even when sam was at stanford and not really talking to dean he still sent dean a short message (text email voicemail whatever) on mother's #and father's day but now hes gone and dean wont even get that #btw dean def saves all of the cards sam's made him over the years and once theyre in the bunker he keeps them all in a special box that he #hides under his bed and he'll pull it out and look through them when hes having a bad day alongside the box of pictures <3 #i did not mean to go insane in the tags here but oh well #enjoy my silly post and unhinged rambling ig

[todayisafridaynight]

uugghh when you said you like aoki because of leaning towards characters in position of power I FELT THAT ASHDHFKD even since I was a kid I somehow liked the leaders of the groups the most and it HASNT CHANGED HELP (maybe its the sense of responsibility, god knows i dont have one)

stanning daigo like look at this depressed dude steering this cruiser called Tojo out of the rocks to sink gracefully at the shallows after the previous captain (cough kiryu cough) abandoned ship. You’re doing great sweetie i’m cheering you on. Keep pretending you’re all serious and know what you’re doing king 🫡

i like it when characters are evil cause its funny to my brain :) but no real shit cause Being In A Position Of Power is so tremendous and. Powerful LIKE you are responsible for so many people ... what you do with that responsibility can be frightening or benevolent and ouuuggh.....

i've gone EXTENSIVELY into why i love daigo but a major part of it is his character progression and the fact he tried so hard for the tojo until he couldnt. i wont get TOO into it lest i end up typing TWO Why I Like This Character essays in a day but how his attitude and his experiences change over time is so cool to me and i love it so much...

#long post #masadai #i mention it in these tags im tagging it for everyones sake #snap chats #like what i love about y7 is its message that 'just because someone isn't to society's standard doesnt mean they're bad #and just because someone is 'admirable' to society's standard it doesnt mean theyre good' #its a simple message but still i love seeing it #i think that's partially why i think masadai #while hilarious and unserious as hell as a concept for the most part- also weirdly appeals to my brain on a small sincere level.. #maybe it's just cause arakawa was like 'hey you know what's going on in my son's brain right... you guys are like the same age....lmao' #but it's just interesting to me to see the difference in how daigo and aoki utilize their influence and responsibility #especially in the context that technically aoki is on the 'right' side of society while daigo is on the 'wrong' side #(and obviously we know aoki's terrible person while daigo's proven to be MUCH more likeable as an individual. that type of thing is always #of course they got their positions for SIGNIFICANTLY different reasons but still.... s'cool to me...

[skunkes]

can we get a crumb of genevieve lore….

this is all ive got on her as i can only attach to and develop one oc at a time and thats if i do attach at all, though the updates are she was originally meant to lead to an "end" in talon's canon when now she might be a "before", though idk what that means for either of them bc im not good at storytelling

#skunk mail #Anonymous #and the way i describe her potential in story isnt even meant to paint her as an irredeemable villain either ykwim...she's not meant to be #evil at all they're just not good for each other. but theyre kind of both desperate #if the throuple au is talon's opportunity to heal and relax then his canon is him in the throes of it all #you will stay on edge and you will continue to find parts of ppl who hurt you in the ones that you love #attempts to progress are shut down #she's the one who tells talon he probably isnt capable of feeling love. but what does that matter #when you have me. and he will believe her #everythings still up to change though! not so long ago it was more silly and funny toxic than serious #like everything in her tag #might go back to that! idk! #especially since i feel some implications might send a wrong message if i keep some character aspects...hm #oc text

[frumfrumfroo]

If DLF is ever forced to officially and finally address the ending of TROS, it will probably go a little sumthin' like this" Rey has a certain purpose in this universe and once she's fulfilled it then she will be rewarded in her next life." I wouldn't put it passed them to believe that love and family are rewards to be earned and not necessities for human survival. Especially for a powerful female. WandaVision and The Multiverse of Madness all but spelled that narrative out for us.

Honestly, at this point that's probably the best case scenario for what they'll do. They could always make things worse.

#they already do believe that #it's just that you're born worthy or unworthy and there's nothing you can do to change it #that's their message- there's no such thing as agency or healing #and women should never grow up #really no one should grow up #but ESPECIALLY women #anon who asked for my expansion on the growing up/lack there of- I'm still looking for my tag ramble about it so I can answer you #I am working on it though #I'm sorry everything takes me so long #I love and appreciate every asker