#don't hoard resources

[bethetiesthatbind]

The less you eat, drink and read books; the less you go to the theatre, the dance hall, the public house; the less you think, love, theorize, sing, paint, fence, etc., the more you save-the greater becomes your treasure which neither moths nor dust will devour-your capital. The less you are, the more you have; the less you express your own life, the greater is your alienated life-the greater is the store of your estranged being.

Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels

#Karl Marx #Friedrich Engels #invest in yourself #don't hoard resources #find joy #theology

[boatswainscall]

As knowledgeable as I am with Warframe after god knows how many years playing it consistently I am genuinely. So bad at teaching players stuck at the midpoint progression wise. And not because I was carried out of it quickly or anything - I know for a fact I was trapped in the midpoint hell for a very long time due to lacking a carry but my memory of it is just utterly gone due to how long I've comparatively been at the endgame.

So whenever as a MR30 I'm asked for specific advice like what weapons and Warframes to prioritize and how to build stuff I'm just like uhhhh shit. Fuck. Hang on let me open up the goddamn Wiki so I can remember most things' MR levels let alone if you can even obtain specific mods at your point of progression.

#warframe #the main advice i can give with full confidence is to not overextend yourself with your arsenal #find a loadout and Warframe that works both with your own playstyle and with the content you're working through #and do your best to stick with it and not expend too many resources on other shit until you are at a point where you can afford it #make upgrades and replace stuff as you are able to unlock and use them but don't do what I did and start hoarding as youre still learning #you can hoard later once you're powerful enough to comfortably solo most content outside of steel path #and once you're able to handle steel path then you're really off to the races #also try your best to learn how your chosen arsenal works stats wise and make your own builds whenever possible #once you unlock it and have scans of common mid-endgame mobs test everything you build in the simulacrum #and avoid overframe beyond just getting the general Vibe of whats typically used most on specific weapons and warframes #you're not going to get helpful or accessible advice there. trust me. that place is a toxic hellhole #fiver.plays

[anulithots]

Perhaps I just exist to collect things I like, learn information that's a little too niche, and be a tad bit less reliable than google.

Then I can showcase/gift the archives in my head like a dragon of knowledge

#take care of yourself #knowledge #know too much #neurodivergent #neurodiverse stuff #dragons #dragon of knowledge and resources #that's what I am #don't really know much about practial things #so please please accept these offerings and tolerate my presence #for I may showcase my hoard... #but I don't have much other than it

[zo1nkss]

There's something to be said about the layers of clasism and racism intersecting throughout the Twilight franchise but I'm not feeling elloquent enough to explain it right now.

#something something vampires being largely white colonizers who actively hoard money and resources they don't need #something something shapeshifters being impoverished and suffering under the greed of white vampire colonizers #something something the Cullens being directly responsible for various aspects of oppression The Black Family face their whole lives #something something reparations #something something stolen land #something something yt ppl #anyway #twilight #fandom crit #void.critical

[hannahchronism]

#i do yoink things from you all the time but i feel like. i need to say it. so yoink (?)(sorry)

no no this is the blog specifically for being Yoinked from. yoink away!

#almost no one in the rpc ever takes me up on the offer and ig i actually don't make it that often but this is like #technically at least half a resource/inspo blog #it used to just an inspo hoarding place but eventually i stopped using my ''main'' and just. moved in here

[juliaschifini]

i can barely manage my resources in my real life, and you want me to do it in a GAME?? for FUN???

#ttrpg #video games #resource management #child i have adhd i can't possibly be expected to manage these resources #and you have the audacity to limit how much i can carry?? #let me hoard my resources like a gremlin #don't make me choose

[midwinterhunt]

hot artists don't gatekeep

I've been resource gathering for YEARS so now I am going to share my dragons hoard

Floorplanner. Design and furnish a house for you to use for having a consistent background in your comic or anything! Free, you need an account, easy to use, and you can save multiple houses.

Comparing Heights. Input the heights of characters to see what the different is between them. Great for keeping consistency. Free.

Magma. Draw online with friends in real time. Great for practice or hanging out. Free, paid plan available, account preferred.

Smithsonian Open Access. Loads of free images. Free.

SketchDaily. Lots of pose references, massive library, is set on a timer so you can practice quick figure drawing. Free.

SculptGL. A sculpting tool which I am yet to master, but you should be able to make whatever 3d object you like with it. free.

Pexels. Free stock images. And the search engine is actually pretty good at pulling up what you want.

Figurosity. Great pose references, diverse body types, lots of "how to draw" videos directly on the site, the models are 3d and you can rotate the angle, but you can't make custom poses or edit body proportions. Free, account option, paid plans available.

Line of Action. More drawing references, this one also has a focus on expressions, hands/feet, animals, landscapes. Free.

Animal Photo. You pose a 3d skull model and select an animal species, and they give you a bunch of photo references for that animal at that angle. Super handy. Free.

Height Weight Chart. You ever see an OC listed as having a certain weight but then they look Wildly different than the number suggests? Well here's a site to avoid that! It shows real people at different weights and heights to give you a better idea of what these abstract numbers all look like. Free to use.

#art reference #art resources #useful websites

[itsjustpoopeh]

what youtube does not understand is telling me "youtube does not allow adblockers" is not going to get me to turn off my adblocker. it's going to either a. get me to update my adblocker settings to block you more or, more likely, b. stop using youtube completely

like, you created the problem, youtube. you went from short ads at the beginning and end of videos to putting 3 minute ads in the middle of videos, playing the same ads fucking constantly, playing super loud obnoxious ads, and also shoving transphobic homophobic racist shit in my face with Shorts

yeah i blocked all that shit and you still made nearly 7 BILLION fucking dollars in ONE QUARTER this year

"boo hoo our revenues are down 2.6% investors are SCAWED" down to 6.6B from 6.8B motherfucker shut UP

fuck completely off you money hoarding ghouls

#youtube #fuck you pigs #'economic uncertainty is hurting our profits!' #you created the economic uncertainty by taking all the money out of circulation and hoarding it in your little savings accounts #less resources to go around means less profits you dumb fucks #bring back 98% marginal tax rates #also execute all the billionaires and redistribute their stolen wealth #but don't forget the marginal tax rates or we'll just be right back here shortly

[engagemythrusters]

Moisés Zamora fuck you for your ableist writing

#what the fuck is wrong with you #'disabled man is greedy and hoards resources' is so fucking shitty #you think disabled don't get that every fucking day in real life? #you think disabled people aren't already branded as a waste of resources? #what the hell were you thinking. #Moisés Zamora

[loser-tomboy]

This comment is about JK Rowling

I cannot take these people seriously. You expect me to believe out of all the men murdering, raping, trafficking, killing children, hoarding resources, a woman with opinions you don't like is the most dangerous person on the planet??? Please be fr

[seat-safety-switch]

"Hey, buddy, you've been hogging the Supercharger® long enough," emits the carrier signal of a Tesla owner. They're right to be upset. Ever since they opened up their fancy DC fast chargers to every Tom, Dick, and Ford owner, what was once a hoity-toity elite parking lot full of American-made economy cars is now full of a bunch of weird shitbags trying to fill up their batteries.

My electric car? Pretty much the same as yours: a 1974 Plymouth Fury III, with the original smog-coughing low-compression 400-cubic-inch V8 engine replaced with nearly a metric ton of golf-cart batteries I borrowed from the local country club. Hey, they weren't using any of them in the middle of November when I cut through the fence. Not to mention it's unethical for anyone to hoard valuable resources that could be used to reduce emissions, such as I am doing (unless you count the fact that this vehicle is still, somehow, leaking 10w40 motor oil from somewhere.)

The system isn't perfect. For instance, the "fast charge" system is not particularly fast. This is because it's an old Canadian Tire 12-volt boat battery maintainer that I've riveted onto the hood, and tricked the Tesla system into talking to. As far as the computer inside it knows, it's just a really stupid SUV. Before you blame me for being a charge hog, you must also know this: it is keeping my decrepit Galaxy Note smartphone alive, which hasn't had a working battery in it since that whole airplane fire snafu. And in turn, that phone is playing an educational podcast, about climate destroyers. This, I believe, is what the Tesla owner is actually angry about, and not the fact that I have been "fast charging" for the last seventeen hours using a stolen credit card.

I ignore him. I have long ago learned that pedestrians talk a lot of shit, but are generally afraid to actually damage my car: an emergency tetanus shot, after all, is unpleasant and can cost upwards of $25. Walking back inside the donut store at which I am "parked," I ask the attendant to refill my bottomless coffee once more. Maybe I'll live here, I think. I don't want to go anywhere more than about five miles away from this charger from now on.

[20dollarlolita]

Quick reminder that you're allowed to have fun.

Back when I cosplayed, I put a ton of effort into cosplays. I did a ton of research, fabric sourcing, learning new construction techniques, trying to get everything to look good and be the perfect thing that I wanted it to be. I wanted to win awards. I wanted to be the very best, like no one ever was.

I got into cosplay because I was in a Twilight cosplay group. We would get together, to go Ross Dress for Less, buy new outfits, get together, go to the park or to the mall, and pretend to be vampires. One of the people in the group had a camera and took pictures, and that was what we did. We didn't make any really good cosplays or any really good photos, but I had so much fun going into the park in the rain wearing a sleeveless dress and pretending that I wasn't freezing, while our Bella cosplayer got to be the only person in a jacket and had to pretend she was miserable.

We weren't a good cosplay group, objectively speaking. We never won awards. We weren't interviewed by blogs. We weren't ever the group that everyone wanted to take pictures of at the convention. I got into doing more cosplay, but a lot of people in that group didn't cosplay outside of that group. A lot of them never cosplayed again, once we all went to college and stopped going to the mall and taking tons of pictures in the food court.

(For everyone who wants to imagine this, this was 2008 and cell phones didn't have cameras that could be dumped onto your computer, so there was several high schoolers pretending to be vampires and one person with a full DSLR with a 300mm zoom lens following them around like the whole grous wasn't a total ball of chaos).

And, you know what? We had fun. It's okay to do things just because it's fun.

With so many professionals posting information on the internet about how they do their craft, it's an amazing time to get into a lot of hobbies. Instead of hoarding information, a ton of hobbyists and professionals alike share their work and techniques and tools freely online. Anyone who wants to can learn how to use the same tools and do the same techniques. I applaud every professional who is taking the time to make resources so that new people can learn how to do things and join in their profession or hobby. Everyone who makes a roller skate tutorial on instagram, everyone who makes an instructable on using a soldering iron, everyone who posted a tiktok about the best way to melt cheese over rice, all those long and pretentious youtube videos about picking the best whiskey to go with the best cigars, videos explaining the bizarreness of Edwardian table manners, you all are amazing. You're sharing this information and enabling new people to learn about something that's important to you. This is really cool. I love you.

But, to everyone who is consuming this media that has been created, and find it intimidating, you're not alone. Someone with a functioning studio who is doing a makeup tutorial in a 4K camera with a high quality ring light and a $89 foundation brush, even sharing their technique freely, can make you feel like you won't have good makeup skills until you also have a ring light and a nice brush. You wanted to build a model of an airplane and looked up a tutorial, and this guy makes it look really easy but he has a double-action airbrush and a fume hood, so you feel like you're not ready to make this model because you don't have the right gear.

I know that this intimidation factor is not something that content creators making tutorials want to be there. I make tutorials and I don't want to intimidate people with a big list of tools and techniques, but I'm sure there's people who wanted to get into lolita fashion and found that my blog was more intimidating than helpful.

So I'm not here to tell content creators to stop making tutorials. The open sharing of information is one of the coolest things about the internet, and I don't want that to change.

But I do want to say something to the person who has watched 160 cake decorating videos in the past week and wanting to try it themselves. I want to say that to someone who has gone through 18 years of jfashion blog archives and wants to build an EGL coordinate. I want to say something to people who've built up an elaborate fictional world and amazing characters in their heads and who wants to share it with someone.

It's okay to do a thing without getting into the hobby. You're allowed to make one cake and decide that it's not for you. You're allowed to take the face off a Monster High doll and not like the process of putting on a new one. You're allowed to assemble one EGL outfit and not want to make a full closet of pieces. You're allowed to write down your story and give it to a friend without ever submitting it to a publisher. You're allowed to paint your DND minis with Apple Barrel acrylics and toothpicks. You're allowed to put on your eyeshadow with the little sponge stick that comes with the $9 palette you got at CVS.

Getting into wood carving is cool, but carving one spoon and then never picking it back up again isn't a failure at getting into a hobby. You made a spoon! That's so cool! You didn't fail to make a spoon just because you didn't make a second one. Building one coordinate and wearing it over and over for conventions and photoshoots isn't a failure to wear the fashion, even if you don't make a whole wardrobe with multiple looks. You can buy a $12 guitar at a yard sale and just play Wonderwall on it on Omegle and have more fun than someone who is dedicated to learning a full set and play professionally in front of people. You can knit a single scarf, hammer together a single planter box, DM a single session of D&D, and then not do it ever again. That's creation, not failure.

And you don't need to research everything and follow tutorials and get it right. You're allowed to experiment and have fun and do it wrong, and you're allowed to guess about the right way to do something. You're allowed to bring your outside perspective into something and try a technique. You're allowed to take experience you have from something and try to cross-apply it to something else. That's two of the ways that new techniques are made! And you're allowed to do something and not like it! You're allowed to do it wrong! You're allowed to give up halfway through and say you'll finish it later, and then never finish it later! You're allowed to bullshit your way through things.

You're allowed to not be serious about things. Throwing a Bridgerton party is probably really fun, but so it putting on cardboard top hats from the dollar store while holding shot glasses over your eyes like monocles and shouting "GOOOOOOOD HEEAAAAAVENS, LAAAAARYYYY," in an exaggerated tone while everyone drinks Old Crow and vows to never buy Swisher Sweets ever again. You're allowed to do things that objectively aren't good, don't showcase skills, don't create something impressive. You're allowed to do these things because they're fun, or because you think they might be fun.

Maybe you like it. Maybe you don't. But you don't need to commit to doing things like the professionals in order to find legitimacy in a thing you attempt. Your attempt is legitimate. Go try the thing.

And if you don't like it, your attempt was still legitimate. Good job trying the thing.

#for those of you who were too young to remember #there was a period of time where cell phones had cameras but you couldn't get the pictures off the phone and onto your computer #verizon would charge you 25 cents per picture to email a picture to your computer #kids these days don't know how lucky they are #also don't start smoking cigars just because it looks cool on youtube #haven't you all seen pinochio and shit? #alcohol cw #tobacco cw #20dollarlolita pep talks

[ifishouldvanish]

"A god should know, where all her dragons are."

I've seen plenty of discussion about how it's shitty of Erzsebet and Drolta to refer to Olrox as a dragon, because Quetzalcoatl isn't really a dragon, but it's like... Extra shitty on other levels?

I mean, this quote is already somethin' because dragon or not, she's referring to him as hers and just making it clear that she does not intend to afford him any agency in this """partnership""".

But I keep Having Thoughts ™ about the role and symbolism of dragons in European folklore.

In the most general sense, they represent power. In a lot of these stories, the dragon is an obstacle between the heroic protagonist and some kind of secret treasure or knowledge (Wealth! Land!). Or the dragon is terrorizing a nearby village (Never mind if the 'dragon' was there first!!). Or the dragon is unfairly hoarding riches it has no use for (don't worry, the colonizers will show the 'primitive savages' how to make the most of their land!! Isn't that nice of them??)

In these stories, it's up to the hero to eliminate this obstacle that's separating them from some resource they feel entitled to, or to 'tame' it and exploit its power for their own purposes. As such, they're pretty on-the-nose colonialist propaganda when viewed under the right lens.

So I wanna talk about The Golden Legend of Saint George and The Dragon, which is one of the most famous of these stories.

Story goes: There's a dragon who's been terrorizing a nearby village. The people start offering the dragon livestock to appease it, and when they run out of livestock, they start holding a regular lotteries to sacrifice one unlucky person to the dragon.

St George shows up before the next person (king's daughter) is about to be eaten, and he doesn't kill the dragon, no. He dominates it:

S. George was upon his horse, and drew out his sword and garnished him with the sign of the cross, and rode hardily against the dragon which came towards him, and smote him with his spear and hurt him sore and threw him to the ground. And after said to the maid: Deliver to me your girdle, and bind it about the neck of the dragon and be not afeard. When she had done so the dragon followed her as it had been a meek beast and debonair.

*(debonair in the archaic sense = gentle)

Erzsebet makes it clear that if she can't be worshipped, being feared is the next best thing. She can't get Olrox to ally with her willingly, so she resorts to force. In the end, she's getting what she really wants: obedience and subservience. For him to follow her like a meek beast.

The Golden Legend doesn't stop there though:

Then she led [the dragon] into the city, and the people fled by mountains and valleys, and said: Alas! alas! we shall be all dead. Then S. George said to them: Ne doubt ye no thing, without more, believe ye in God, Jesu Christ, and do ye to be baptized and I shall slay the dragon. Then the king was baptized and all his people, and S. George slew the dragon and smote off his head, and commanded that he should be thrown in the fields, and they took four carts with oxen that drew him out of the city.

A couple things here that slot right into the themes of colonialism in the show:

The dragon is used used as a way to coerce people into converting to Christianity. Just as Olrox would have watched the Spanish settlers do to his people: under threat of force.

The dragon is feared by the villagers despite no longer being an actual threat, but St George does nothing to dispel those fears—he exploits them. Just as prejudices of all kinds are used to justify settler colonialism as necessary or inevitable.

The dragon is slain and discarded once St George is done with it. Just as Olrox would have watched the Americans betray and displace the Mohican people who allied with them during the revolution.

Erzsebet and Drolta calling Olrox a "Dragon" isn't just ignorant or disrespectful because he's not a dragon. It's downright degrading. They're not just refusing to address him properly—they're telling a man who has survived settler colonization twice over that they intend to use him as a tool with which to do it again.

Olrox spends the season carefully stepping around every appeal Drolta makes for him to pledge loyalty to Erzsebet. And he's damned good at it: never giving up his true intentions by saying no outright, but wiggling out of ever having to say yes by instead asking pointed questions and making cutting observations that always land the ball back in their side of the court.

But then this scene happens, and he can't wiggle out of it this time. They've got their dragon where they want him. He's pinned and 'meek'—and I can think of nothing more infuriating and degrading for a character like Olrox than to be paraded about in his own land to help Erzsebet build her empire across it.

Olrox isn't a dragon, but she's going to make him one.

#castlevania #castlevania nocturne #olrox

[solargeist]

Ok but now I'm wondering if Grian has food trauma responses. Like, once he's on Hermitcraft, he hoards food or is obsessive about his farms, bc for so long food was (somewhat unintentional) leverage that could be used against him. I can imagine something like that going unnoticed in 3rd life bc resources are scarce and everyone is constantly stealing and sabotaging, but on Hermitcraft where resources are plentiful? Suddenly very obvious

i've thought abt this ! and yeah !! He's got issues !!!

He hoards food, he doesn't like eating around people, he doesn't like throwing away anything, even if its rotted or covered in mold, he'll leave it tucked away with the rest, just in case. (tho he'd like to not eat mold)

In 3rd life, he had to be the one to provide food, he felt uneasy when Scar did, he doesn't want to rely on anyone. They did pretty well together when it came to rationing and collecting food though, they both come from a background where food isn't reliable, but they have different reactions to it, Scar indulges as celebration ("lets drink! we won a fight!"), while Grian just wants to see the food is safe and there when he needs it, he sometimes repeatedly checks the cabinet when hes stressed.

It might be hard to notice in Hermitcraft, at least for awhile I think, he's pretty good at deflecting, and he was pretty shy at first so its not something people would notice.

Xisuma gave him hot chocolate when Grian first showed up in HC, but he wouldn't drink it til Xisuma left the room.

Mumbo would probably be the first to notice I think, he'd sit on the thought for awhile though, taking mental note, before asking one day like 'ok, can't help but notice, but you don't really drink or even eat anything do you ?'

This isn't his only issues though, he's got a problem with control, with self worth, i think he hides it fairly well, but he tends to overwork himself thinking he owes Xisuma everything for letting him hide out in HC away from Watchers.

He might always feel the urge to prove himself.

#cw disordered eating #ask #evoau #the watchers did Not mean to give him so many issues #note: xisuma has no idea grian feels like this in the Au

[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 20

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | AO3

-----

Robin and Steve shower together the next morning.

And that's - fine, it's fine.

He was right about Steve being a resourceful guy, it seems, because he can faintly hear the sound of smacking and giggling and an oh my God before he finishes getting dressed and books it out of Steve's bedroom. He doesn't have to feel guilty about preventing them from their celebratory activities anymore, at least, and he just -

He just won't think about it.

It doesn't matter what he wants, or what he thinks he might be able to have. It matters that he wants to be in this party, that he wants to keep Steve and Robin, and you can't have two romantic soulmates, it's just not -

"What?" he mutters viciously to himself. "It's just not done? When have you ever cared about that?"

When it comes to this, apparently. Maybe you can have two romantic soulmates, maybe Steve wouldn't mind, but Eddie, well. Eddie can't, and there's too many other things he needs to deal with right now to be able to focus on figuring out what the gut feeling that it'd be a disaster really means.

He gets coffee started for them instead, makes himself a bowl of oatmeal, and his knee is only bouncing in agitation a little when Steve and Robin come down to the kitchen.

Steve notices it immediately, because of course he does. "You worried about telling your uncle?"

Eddie grimaces. "Worried about a lot of things right now, man, it's getting to be kind of a list."

Steve tips his head. "Eh, fair."

Robin hums as she pours herself a cup of coffee. "Want to talk about it?"

He opens his mouth to immediately decline, then pauses, actually considering that. No way in hell is he going to try to process anything related to their soulmate arrangement with them, but… everything else? Yeah, he could actually see that.

"Not right now," he says finally. "I'm gonna have enough talking to do with Uncle Wayne later."

They don't push him. Instead, they eat breakfast together, with Robin's foot pressed up against his and Steve's hand on his knee. He kind of wants to say something about it, but he doesn't know whether what comes out of his mouth will be a thank you or a joke to try to brush it off, and he's honestly not sure he wants to draw attention to it.

Eddie's always been all easy, casual physical contact, hands gripping shoulders and arms slung around his friends and playful shoves or nudges, but this is -

This isn't loud and boisterous and purposefully over the top, this is quiet and sincere and done almost on instinct.

It's strange, how different it feels.

And how much it works to calm him down, despite both of them being the source of one of his swirls of chaotic thoughts.

After breakfast, Robin hugs him goodbye and they head out. Steve's going to pick Dustin up, drop Robin off at the high school, and then hopefully come back with Uncle Wayne. The rest of the hoard is making themselves scarce today, so Eddie doesn't have an audience for seeing his uncle again.

He'd been a little surprised that there wasn't an argument about looping his uncle in, but Nancy had pointed out that if they didn't tell him something soon, his insistence on putting up missing person fliers was likely to put some kind of pressure on the police to pursue Eddie's case more.

Eddie'd been all for not having a gaggle of teenagers around for this before, but now that he's alone, just waiting - look, he might not want an audience when he has to ask his uncle if he hates him now, but he kind of wants one in the leading up to it so he doesn't have to keep thinking about all the different possible ways this is going to go.

Logically, he knows that Uncle Wayne isn't going to hate him. He stopped doubting the love his uncle had for him a long time ago. Jesus knows Eddie's tested him in so many ways since then, but it's never been this.

It's never been a dead girl in their living room, and Eddie no where to be found.

Even if he doesn't think Eddie did it - Eddie still just left, just left him to deal with all of that, and then he went back and helped destroy their home a little more, made sure it was really uninhabitable.

He wouldn't blame his uncle for having some misgivings about everything, about him.

Eddie's not sure how long he's been sitting there when he hears the unmistakable sound of his uncle's truck. It's a sound he's heard almost every day since he was twelve, usually when he was blearily shoving cereal into his mouth or burrowing deeper in his blankets to steal just a little bit more sleep. It's always been accompanied by the crunch of gravel, first under the tires and then from Uncle Wayne's footsteps, and hearing it pull smoothly into the Harrington driveway now feels almost as otherworldly as that first trip into the Upside Down.

He's been in a little bit of a bubble, here. He doesn't feel like he's being overly dramatic when he thinks that the last time he heard his uncle's truck, he was a different person than he is now, and those two lives colliding is kind of a head trip.

His hands are trembling a little, and he stands up partly just for something to do, something other than sit there.

What if this is it? What if this is finally the thing that's too much, what if Eddie finally went too far, after all these years? There's a lot of things that he knows his uncle has forgiven him for, but a murder charge is asking an awful lot, what if he -

His uncle comes into view.

Steve is saying something, and there's some kind of response from Dustin, but Eddie can't hear any of it.

"Hi Uncle Wayne," he manages to get out.

Uncle Wayne drops the boxes he'd been carrying. They must have been empty, because there's barely a sound as they hit the floor, but Eddie doesn't really care, because his uncle is striding across the room in long, purposeful steps. He's there between one breath and the next, strong arms wrapped around Eddie as he pulls him into the kind of hug he hasn't done since Eddie got too tall to be tucked in under his chin.

His uncle's breath hitches, and it hits him that he's crying, and oh, fuck, that does Eddie in completely. He clings to him, trying his best to stifle his own sobs, hearing them come out in little hiccuping gasps anyway.

"We'll, uh, just go start loading things," he hears Steve say, and he registers the sound of footsteps walking away and the garage door opening and closing, but it just makes him hold onto his uncle tighter.

Somehow, they find their way to the couch, and then Eddie does have to pull away. He's healing up nicely, but there isn't a good angle for him to stay in his uncle's hold for much longer without something hurting.

Uncle Wayne notices it, of course, and his eyes scan over Eddie as they sit down. Eddie watches him register the dark sweats, the gray sweatshirt - neither of which are his, obviously - then move back up to his face.

"Are you hurt?" Uncle Wayne asks.

"I'm healing up," Eddie replies. "It, uh. It's kind of a long story. And a pretty unbelievable one."

Uncle Wayne raises his eyebrows. "Son, they've been trying to tell me that you hurt that girl and those other kids. No matter what you have to tell me, it's never going to be more unbelievable than that."

Tears sting at Eddie's eyes again, and he has to look down to try to get himself under control enough that he can actually talk.

Then he tells him.

Not everything - there's a lot of stuff that happened before spring break that he still isn't super clear on, and some things that aren't his to tell, but he gets out the basics. Hawkins Lab doing shady things, how they've been behind the strange deaths and the mall burning down, the existence of the Upside Down, the real story behind the Creels, that it was Henry Creel behind the deaths. The NDAs that the party had to sign, how everything's been covered up. How the others found him hiding, looked after him, looped him into everything. Nancy's vision, their plan to stop it, how it only half worked. Steve getting injured, Steve getting the others to stand up for him at the town hall meeting, Steve carrying him out of the Upside Down, Steve having him stay here to recover and stay hidden - so much of Steve that he has to clamp his mouth closed when he catches himself, cheeks flushed.

Uncle Wayne looks at him for a long moment. "Anything else you want to tell me?"

Eddie groans. There's no way his uncle doesn't already know, he clearly just wants to make Eddie say it. "Steve's my soulmate. Platonic soulmate," he adds quickly. "Steve's got two, and he's already found his romantic soulmate."

Uncle Wayne's brows draw down a little, like he's not sure if he should be concerned about that or not.

"It's okay," Eddie says without thinking, then has a brief moment of panic before he realizes it's not a lie. "It's okay," he says again. "I, uh. It's been good here. You know, apart from all the stitches and hiding from the police and not knowing if you were okay."

Uncle Wayne huffs out a disbelieving little laugh. "Oh, apart from that, huh?"

"Sorry about the trailer," Eddie says, very quietly.

"Oh, son," Uncle Wayne murmurs gruffly, reaching out to grip his shoulder and give him a gentle shake. "Now that I know you're okay, there's not a single thing in there that I can't afford to be without, all right?"

Eddie nods, afraid he'll sound too choked up if he says anything.

"I'm glad you're doing good here," Uncle Wayne says. "The fuss has died down, with the earthquake and all, but that Carver kid's got a small handful of diehards who're looking to stir up trouble."

Eddie grimaces. "Do me a favor and don't tell Steve that?"

His uncle raises one brow. "You trying to hide stuff from your soulmate?"

"It's not that I want to, it's just… Steve's protective. He's already saying that he won't claim his soulmate rights if I get found out before they work out a plan, that he'll go with me to prove I'm telling the truth."

Uncle Wayne frowns. "And you don't want him to?"

Eddie huffs out a laugh, dry and humorless. "I don't think the truth is going to matter to them much if they don't have someone else ready to blame them on, and I don't want Steve to go through that for nothing."

His uncle gives a thoughtful little hum. "You ask me, seems like Steve doesn't think it'd be for nothing."

Ugh, he should have known his uncle would be on Steve's side. He can't honestly say he minds, considering their side is the side that wants to get Eddie's name cleared, but still. "Yeah, well, like I said, Steve's just protective."

"Just protective." Uncle Wayne raises one eyebrow. "You gonna look me in the eye and tell me it ain't because that boy cares about you?"

Eddie can feel himself flushing almost immediately. Well, yeah. It's obvious Steve cares about him. They haven't dropped any kind of words about it yet - he doesn't think either of them are ready to actually say it, or to hear it - but Steve's actions kind of speak for themselves, and Eddie hopes that his own actions have done the same.

"No," Eddie admits. "I'm not going to tell you that."

He fiddles with the straps on his wrist brace, and his uncle - always able to figure out when there's something more going on - waits patiently.

"It's not my story to tell," Eddie says finally. "But Steve has been through a lot. He says it'd be fine, and I know he believes that, but - he also sat there with a straight face and told me he knows how to take a beating and keep going, and he'd rather it be him than any of us."

Surprise colors Uncle Wayne's expression for a moment, and then something in his eyes goes tight. Eddie recognizes that look. It's something like the one he'd gotten when he found out something that happened to Eddie - usually something that his dad taught him, or the handful of times his mom had gotten so drunk he'd had to watch over her in the bathroom, or the times he'd almost had a deal go bad. The things that his uncle's always said no kid should have to go through.

"This has been happening since 83," Eddie admits quietly. "They've all been dealing with this alone."

His uncle twists to look at the garage door for a long moment before turning back. "You call me if you get found," he says, more serious than Eddie's ever seen him. "You hear me? I'll be right there with the both of you."

Eddie swallows roughly, nodding.

"Promise me," Uncle Wayne insists. "No matter what it is, no matter what kind of thing happens - you call me. None of you are alone."

It takes Eddie a moment to get his voice back, but then he manages to get out, "I promise."

He'll have to talk it over with the others, of course, but he's pretty sure Steve and Robin are already on board, and he's got confidence that the three of them can convince the rest of the party.

Which is, admittedly, a little bit of a trip - that he's part of a monster hunting group now, that when he thinks about deciding as a party it's real. Ridiculously, that gets a little bit of a smile tugging at his lips.

Uncle Wayne looks closely at him. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"We're not alone anymore, either," he says, hears it come out almost shy, and makes a face at himself. "Just, uh. They've kind of decided I belong to them, and I'm not going to be the one to tell Nancy Wheeler or Erica Sinclair no, so."

"Good," his uncle says decisively, as if that's that, which -

Well.

Eddie guesses it is.

Uncle Wayne claps his hands on his knees, pushes himself up. "Let's see how those two have managed to get along."

He ambles over to the garage door, sticks his head out and calls for Steve to get on back in here.

There must be some kind of argument - Eddie can't hear it, but he's assuming there is, because somehow Steve manages to get Dustin to stay in the garage while he comes in alone.

Eddie stays where he is on the couch, trying to tell himself that there's no reason to be nervous. Steve'd talked to his uncle before, had managed to convince him to come to his house, but - that'd been before Uncle Wayne knew everything, knew they were soulmates.

It doesn't help that Steve's clearly a little nervous when he comes back in, too - or maybe he's picking up on Eddie's own nerves.

"So," Uncle Wayne says, looking Steve up and down. "You the one my nephew was always talking with?"

Eddie watches Steve's throat work as he swallows.

"Yes, sir," Steve says. And then he gets this look in his eyes - one that Eddie recognizes, that says he's terrified of what he's about to do but he's doing it anyway. "I'm the other little jackass with no impulse control."

Eddie lets out a squawk, the sound of which is drowned out by his uncle straight up guffawing, loud wheezing laughs that break the tension in the air.

Steve looks far too pleased with himself, even though his smile is this little tentative thing, so Eddie kicks out his foot to nudge Steve's ankle with his toes.

"I told you not to try to charm my uncle!" he protests.

"Charm me, huh?" Uncle Wanye asks, raising his eyebrows at Steve, who looks a little sheepish.

Uncle Wayne shakes his head. "Boy, you brought my kid back to me, and from what Eddie says, you've been keeping him safe here. There's nothing else you could do that'd top that, not as long as you keep treating him well."

Steve's quiet for a moment, and Eddie's pretty sure he wants to protest that it wasn't just him, but then he just nods.

"I'll take care of him. I promise," Steve says, holding out his hand.

Uncle Wayne reaches out to take it, giving it a firm shake before he pulls Steve into a hug.

Eddie can't see his uncle's face, but Steve looks at him all wide eyed and stiff, and Eddie just grins at him, shrugging.

He's already gearing up to tease him, but - then Steve takes a deep, shuddering breath, and hugs Uncle Wayne back, arms winding around him and holding on tight, and something about the sight of it makes Eddie avert his eyes.

Steve's parents haven't been home this whole time. Eddie hasn't asked - no one's mentioned it, like everyone's used to them being gone, and he kind of figures if Steve had anything more to say other than what he already had, other than what's obvious, he would.

But now he makes a note to mention it to his uncle, later. Now he thinks that as much as he's been adopted into this party - maybe his soulmate needs to be folded into Eddie's own little family of two.

They don't talk about it when they separate. Uncle Wayne just slaps Steve on the back, tells him to go finish up loading the truck, and he'll be out in a minute.

But when his uncle turns back to him, there's a look in his eye that tells him maybe Eddie won't have to mention anything at all.

"Maybe you could stay for dinner?" Eddie finds himself asking.

Uncle Wayne clears his throat, the way he does when he's feeling a little emotional about something. "Your boy already asked me, but it's better if I don't stay long. I don't want anyone to get to wondering what I'm doing lingering here."

It's a good point, Eddie knows it is, but he feels like he's fifteen and pissy again. "I hate this," he mutters. "I hate you being at that school."

Uncle Wayne cracks a grin. "Oh, I won't be. I've only been there trying to find a trace of you. Now that I know you're safe? Our insurance will be putting me up in the best hotel room Hawkins has. I knew paying the extra for earthquake coverage would come in handy."

And fuck if that doesn't make him feel worlds better.

"I'll leave the number with your friends," Uncle Wayne promises.

Eddie stands to hug him again, burying his face in his neck and holding on as tight as he can, like he never wants to let go.

Eventually, though, they have to pull away, and his uncle heads out into the garage.

There's a few beats of silence, as Eddie pulls in one ragged breath after another, trying to get himself back under control.

Then the garage door opens again, and Steve comes back in.

"Everything okay?" Eddie asks, unable to stop himself from feeling a little jittery again.

"Fine, Dustin went back to the school with Wayne. I'll follow them in a bit to pick up him and Robin, I just, uh. Wanted to check on you," Steve says, making a little face at himself. "How did it go?"

Eddie can't help but be a little touched. "It went good. He believed me."

Steve nods. "Like you thought he would?"

Eddie - can't actually agree to that, he realizes. He's not confident enough that it would be the truth.

When he stays silent, Steve seems to get it.

"Will you tell me?" Steve asks, which - apparently is now their code for I'm not going to ask directly so you don't have to lie but I'll listen if you want.

Or at least, Eddie's going to assume it is, since he said it to Steve first.

"I just-" Eddie starts, then pauses to take a deep breath. "I know I'm a lot. There's a lot that my uncle's had to put up with, cause of me. I pushed him a lot the first year I moved in with him, trying to figure out what would be too much for him, but it never was. I guess I wondered if maybe this would be it."

"But it wasn't?" Steve asks.

Eddie shakes his head. "No. It wasn't."

Steve just looks at him for a moment, like he's considering something. Then, "You're not too much, Eds."

Fuck.

"Don't you start, man," Eddie warns teasingly.

Steve huffs out a laugh. "All right, all right. Let's get you upstairs before I head out."

He thinks about protesting, but really, he's kind of grateful to be able to lean on Steve a little. Eddie doesn't want to admit to overdoing it, but he's pretty sure he overdid it.

"Oh, hey, I got something for you," Steve says once they're in the bedroom.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. "But you already got me my uncle," he teases. "You keep going like this and I'll get spoiled."

Steve rolls his eyes, but Eddie kind of means it. The longer he stays with Steve and Robin, the more he just. Kind of never wants to leave - or if he does, he wants Steve and Robin to move with him, he wants to stay in the same room and sleep in the same bed and have their toothbrushes in the same holder and his Yoohoo next to Steve's Gatorade and Robin's grape soda in the fridge.

It's stupidly domestic, which means Eddie's mostly trying to ignore it and just enjoy it while he has it.

Still, Steve's ears are a little bit pink, which gets him off that train of thought and makes him perk up. "Wait, seriously? When did you even have time to get me anything?"

"I got it a long time ago." Steve heads over to his desk, pulling open a drawer and rummaging around in it. Then he holds out a wooden box, pressing it into his hands. "Wanted to give it to you while we're alone."

Sure enough, it looks old. The wood is worn and a little dusty, and the hinges squeak a little as he opens it. It opens almost like a book, unfolding in a way that would make it easy to prop up on display - and when he gets a better look at it, it clearly is meant to display. There's a glass lining set in each half of the box, like two picture frames, except they hold a small collection of preserved butterflies.

It's, well. It's pretty fucking cool, and Eddie looks up at Steve, speechless.

Steve sits on the bed, rolling his pant leg up to the knee. He gestures at it, and Eddie can just make out Butterflies are so annoying, I hate them.

What.

That's.

Eddie just keeps looking at him, afraid that if he says anything it's going to be to tell Steve that god, he loves him.

He loves him.

"Oh," he manages to get out, shaky and breathless.

"Yeah," Steve says. "That was back when my dad still gave me advice sometimes and I gave a shit about following it. He said you should always have gifts ready for your soulmate, so they know you're thinking of them. Pretty sure he meant like diamonds and flowers and shit to bring back after you've been gone, but, you know. I figured this would be the kind of thing you like."

"You figured right. Fourteen year old me would have gone nuts over this," Eddie says, running his fingers over the glass. "Thank you, Steve. This, uh. Shit, this really means a lot."

Steve smiles at him, all pleased and fond, and the silence rests nice and comfy between them for a moment.

Then Steve pulls in a breath and lets it out, and Eddie's pretty sure he recognizes that particular blend of uncertainty and determination, and oh.

Oh no.

"Steve," he whispers. It comes out a little desperate, half a warning and half a plea.

He's not sure what he means by it. He's not even sure he knows what Steve's going to say - it could be a million things, honestly, just because Eddie is painfully aware that he can't keep convincing himself that their bond is at all platonic, at least on his end, doesn't mean that Steve's thinking the same thing.

Eddie just knows that he can't. He's not ready for this, he's not ready for any of it.

Steve seems to get something out of Eddie just saying his name, though, because he swallows, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "Can we just think about it?"

Eddie finds himself nodding before he really realizes. "Yeah," he agrees. "Yeah, okay."

"Okay," Steve repeats.

Steve heads out to go get Dustin and Robin after that, and Eddie gets settled on the bed, taking another dose of meds and staring at the little preserved butterflies.

Think about it.

Fuck, everything has just been so much these last few weeks, and Eddie'd really, really like it to just… not. He's exhausted, all wrung out and hollow, and he just wants to close his eyes and not think about anything, but.

He said he would, and he wasn't lying when he said it, so he guesses he has to.

It's not that he can't share Steve with Robin, not by a long shot. He's well aware that it's Robin sharing Steve with him - and he knows that even if it were the other way around, even if Steve and Robin were platonic soulmates and Steve and Eddie were romantic, it would still be Robin sharing Steve with him. Steve and Robin have something that goes deeper than anything, something that Eddie couldn't touch even if he wanted, and he… he kind of likes that. The part of Steve that is Robin is just what makes him Steve, and Eddie's pretty on board with that.

It's just that he knows himself. He knows that if he kisses Steve - if it starts being something they do, if they let themselves go there - he's going to want to be the only one that Steve kisses.

It's not fair, not to anyone, but it is what it is. He's not sure he can change that part of himself, not even for Steve. So it's just better if they don't go there.

Now he just has to figure out how he's going to tell that to Steve, without any of it coming out as a lie.

Up next: the platonic/romantic lines get even more blurry, and a much less pleasant house call

-----

Part 21

Tag list (always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #wayne munson #robin buckley #platonic soulmates stobin #just gonna extra emphasis the platonic since eddie is misreading things #steve and robin have zero boundaries #wayne munson uncle of the century #steddie soulmate au

[gothhabiba]

White people are allowed to use appeals to 'trauma' to defend and explain their (and other white people's) behaviour—including racist behaviour—in ways that people of colour are not. 'Trauma' in this formulation (that is, a mitigating circumstance that can be appealed to—not just to explain and excuse whatever behaviour—but to make that behaviour appear healthful and beneficial on an individual or societal level)—this kind of 'trauma' is something that only white people can possess.

People of colour—in a usamerican context we ought to be talking primarily about Indigenous & African americans—are not subjects or people who can be traumatised. True, they're not thought of as people whose trauma matters—but, more than this, they're not thought of as having the kind of mind that can be traumatised in the first place.

They don't have the kind of mind that can suffer and then 'heal' from 'trauma'—a mind at its core healthy and sanitary, but corruptible—a mind flexible enough to rejuvenate or regenerate itself. Regenerating potential, complex individual psychology, a 'clean' state prior to trauma that can be corrupted and ought to be protected from corruption—these things belong to whiteness alone.

These are the aspects of whiteness that make an appeal to corrupted white childhood especially powerful for reactionary and progressive people alike. The white child is in the ultimate state of innocent, fragile purity and simultaneous elastic rigour. The white child's purity must not be challenged or complicated (thus ideas such as 'white children ought to be shielded from the realities of racism which their peers of colour are presumably already dealing with')—but white people can, once corrupted, still become productive citizens of a healthy national body politic, given sufficient attention to the 'recovery' of that previous un-traumatised state.

This 'recovery' employs discourses of medicine and psychology as sanitation and the (white) mind both as originally pure and robust, and as recoverable and regenerative enough to re-attain that original state. These discourses also posit that white psychological recovery serves a national function. The converse is also true; marginalised white people's attempts to address their marginalisation frequently invoke nationalist imagery and nationalist myth-making (in shoring up a sense of personal identity as a white member of the nation; in claiming the 'right' as a white member of the nation not to be marginalised or oppressed).

So Indigenous & African americans cannot be traumatised. they can be foreign (yeah, foreign, however counterintuitive it sounds) antagonists and villains, collective hoards, drains on resources, sources of labour, the tragic dead, or tragic victims, but even in the more apparently sympathetic of these formulations they are not psychologically individual or complex enough to be traumatised as people. They especially cannot be thought of as traumatisable or regenerative as populations, since that would entail an acknowledgement of usamerican colonial wrongdoing and the admission of a possible future not predicated on white hegemony.

If they are 'traumatised' populations it is a kind of trauma that is tragic but irrecoverable, or else self-imposed and self-perpetuated; they don't have a mind, an individual, psychologically complex mind, the kind of mind whose individual experiences matter and ought all to be taken into account and sympathised with in understanding behaviour, the kind of mind that justifies and necessitates any action taken in order to maintain its hygiene. Their minds are neither originally 'pure' (such that they must be protected from trauma) nor robust and elastic enough to recover (such that they can ever really be healthy members of the us national / political body).

An appeal to white trauma, and especially to white childhood trauma, is just sort of a sympathy magic bullet that the stars rarely align enough to allow a person of colour to discursively counter ime. "Colonialism, slavery, and encountering racism traumatise people" is not admissible evidence to these people. The white person engaging in racist behaviour can be excused and pitied—even have their behaviour be thought of as healthful and beneficial—on the basis of their trauma. To the extent that people of colour are harmed by this behaviour, it simply doesn't matter.

#rebloggable version #racism