not me staring at all the wips i already have (especially the swbb, which I need to hit harder) and thinking, again, about Obi-Wan repeatedly dropping his robe and leaving it behind because he has Issues With the Texture but is very used to just dealing with irritations like that, and losing a robe in a battlefield means he won't have to live with the discomfort for at least a few months while the quartermasters try to get him a new one
it's a better solution than his previous efforts to Avoid Letting the Robe Touch His Skin, which have involved, largely, seeking higher and higher necklines.
and, of course, if he'd send a message back to the Temple saying he'd prefer a different fabric or, even, not to wear the robe at all, they'd make that happen, but, well.
he's always assumed that the fabric makes everyone want to claw their skin off and that it's just something everyone deals with just fine, including Anakin, who can be so fussy about the smallest things, so, obviously, this annoyance is relatively minor and he just needs a collar that's a bit higher.
and this continues until Cody manages to grab a robe before it's utterly destroyed by droids one day, bringing it back slung over his shoulder because why not? it'll give him an excuse to swing by Obi-Wan's quarters, anyway, which he's found himself looking for more and more often, these days.
except that, upon giving it back, Obi-Wan winces, there and gone, before thanking him kindly, of course....
and i'm not entirely sure how that leads to Cody just keeping a cloak in his possession, next time it happens - after all, he finds the fabric very soft and warm - and making sure the messages to the quartermaster get lost along the way, but....
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exactly one (1) person asked for my thoughts on jackie’s pov of jackieshauna so me being me i obviously wrote an even longer essay than my shauna essay. so. here you go anon, SORRY or you’re welcome.
we can all agree that if you boil jackie down (um... sorry, too on the nose?) to her bare essentials, what you’re left with is basically a huge pit of insecurity. shauna is incapable of facing other people, but jackie is incapable of facing herself. jackie is incredibly inwardly/emotionally unstable but she doesn’t actually realize it because she does such a good job of distracting herself by curating her environment, her image, the people she’s surrounded by, their image, her hobbies, and on and on and on. she (without fully understanding that this is what she’s doing) tries to impose order on her outer world in the hopes that that will, by extension, bring order to her inner world.
so, here is my thesis statement: i propose that shauna is both jackie’s biggest source of stability AND her biggest source of instability.
shauna is the only one who’s always been there for her. it’s so telling that out of all the things jackie could’ve complimented shauna on in that scene (her intellect? her depth as a person? her looks?) she chose this. it shows us what jackie’s priorities are and why she values shauna: shauna is her rock, her best friend and trusty sidekick, she’s steady and loyal.
thing is, shauna isn’t. while shauna saintifies jackie after death and turns her into an idea/symbol, jackie kinda does the same to shauna in life. she needs shauna to be her rock, and she needs it SO badly, like survival-level badly, that she just can’t leave space for shauna to be anything else. this sucks for shauna, because she doesn’t feel like jackie truly sees her in all her complexity. but it also sucks for jackie, because she just doesn’t realize when things are going downhill - and she doesn’t realize that her search for stability in shauna has been doomed to fail from the get-go, because shauna has a mind of her own.
and this is when shauna becomes jackie’s biggest source of INstability: when she goes rogue. or, maybe more accurately, when she does what jackie interprets as “going rogue” - aka going against jackie’s carefully laid-out plans, whether or not she truly meant it as a snub. exhibit a: voting to go to the lake instead of stay at the crash site. for a healthy, secure person/relationship this would’ve been a simple difference of opinion. but for jackieshauna it drove a wedge between them for an entire day or possibly more, because by defying jackie, shauna destabilizes jackie’s very, VERY tenuous grip on the TINY amount of control she feels like she has over her world.
this control is EVERYTHING to jackie because it’s the only thing that can alleviate her internal turbulence. and she is DESPERATE for her fix, so she reaches, grasps, searches for the stability that she needs, that she only knows how to find in shauna, and it always seems to be just out of her reach, and of course we know it’s impossible to find internal stability through external things, but jackie thinks if she just stretches a little further and holds on a little tighter, she’ll get what she needs, so she clings onto shauna more and more desperately, not realizing that squeezing so tight could have unwanted side effects.
and just like with shauna - there IS genuine love here! but as much as shauna has warped ideas about what love looks like (and boy does she!), jackie has some messed up ideas about love too! jackie adores shauna, but part of that adoration is tied to how jackie builds shauna up in her own head, and when shauna fails to live up to the role that jackie needs her to play, it sends jackie into a tailspin and she lashes out. and i think jackie thinks that because she loves shauna, she can’t possibly be hurting her. it’s not a cage if i make it cozy, right? if i put some blankets down and keep her nice and safe? she’s not trapped, i’m taking good care of her, she’s choosing to stay, and if she wanted differently, she’d say so. (but shauna can’t/won’t say so, as we know.)
so. to sum it up. on a good day, shauna keeps jackie afloat, but on a bad day, shauna sends jackie spiraling. jackie needs her so desperately and the tragedy is that she loves shauna so much and she’s so terrified of losing her that she does everything she can to prevent it, but her desperation blinds her to the fact that, by holding onto shauna so tightly, she’s contributing to the very situation she hoped to avoid: shauna leaving her.
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love me softly p4
@heart-of-a-rose they!!! see!!! each!!! other!!!!
(@theysherobinbuckley <3)
cw: steve discusses His Father with eddie; nothing is explicit or anything but its implied that his dad is abusive & neglectful
part three
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He goes to Gareth’s the next day. His mom answers the door.
“Hi, Mrs Gareth’s mom.”
“Hi, Eddie. He’s in his room.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“She’s told you that you can call her Linda,” Gareth says as soon as Eddie is pushing aside the curtain to his room, laying on his bed with a book in his lap, spinning a drumstick.
“Yeah, I can also walk into traffic, but that doesn’t mean I want to or that I’m going to.”
“Whatever, man. What’s up?”
“Uh.”
He lays on the floor, looking up at the posters Gareth has tacked to the ceiling.
“You remember when I said that I, uhm. Like Steve?”
“Unforgettable knowledge, yes.”
“Uhm.” He’s grinning at the ceiling. His face almost hurts. “I got a… slight, sneaking suspicion it may not be entirely one-sided.”
Gareth drops the drumstick, and it clatters to the floor.
“Elaborate right now.”
He elaborates. Tells Gareth about detention, about the first-name basis, about the way Steve’s cheeks flushed and the way he laughed, the way he half-heartedly tried to stop Eddie from flipping through the notebook, about the fucking drawing.
“And you’re sure it was you?” Gareth asks, now sitting up and looking down at Eddie, wide-eyed.
“Positive.”
“…Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“Is he… Do you think he’s queer?”
“I don’t know,” Eddie groans, throwing his arms over his face. “I don’t know.”
“I mean— he’s slept with like every girl in the school, I—“
“I know.” He sighs heavily. “But… Even if he isn’t, he’s… He’s different.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I mean—“ He throws his arms aside, huffing. His eyes trace the fraying edges of an old Metallica poster that’s overlapping a faded map of constellations. “He’s not a douchebag.”
“Eddie…”
Eddie just groans loudly, rolling over.
Mrs Gareth’s mom gives him a Tupperware of food to take home before he leaves.
When Eddie sees Steve at school again, Steve’s eyes are practically shining at him, and his cheeks flush pink, and he suppresses a smile before he looks away, and Eddie wants to scream. He can see the corner of the notebook, the folded blue front page, sticking out of his backpack next to him.
On Friday, Eddie attends a party. He wasn’t invited, he never is, but no one ever really minds when he shows up with his tin lunchbox.
Parties always get him good money, dumb kids wanting to lose their minds for a night and willing to give Eddie any amount of money for it.
But the noise and the the lights tire him after a while, and he leaves his can of Coke in the sink, wincing as he skirts past people, winding through crowds of dancing and shouting people. The front door is practically blocked off, the front porch so full of people that just looking at it over the others’ heads makes his body ache.
So he swerves, keeps his head down as he finds his way down a hall. He knows there’s a bedroom down here, with a window that should go right through the backyard.
A hand grabs his shoulder as he’s opening the door, and he turns, startled, the lunchbox bumping the person behind him.
“Shit—“
“You got coke?”
Eddie blinks, recognising him from the hallways at school. His eyes are bloodshot, hanging at half-mast.
“I’m not selling right now, man,” Eddie says, moving the lunchbox away from him.
“Come on, Munson.”
“No.” Eddie shifts into the doorway of the bedroom. “Go drink some water or something.”
“Dude, I’ll pay you whatever, just—“
“No,” Eddie snaps. “You ask again and I’m not selling to you ever. Get outta here.”
The guy huffs, and Eddie braces himself for impact, but he just stumbles away down the hall. Eddie shakes his head, watching before he steps into the bedroom and shuts the door behind himself, leaning to look around the four-poster bed to see out the window.
“Why’d you do that?”
“Jesus—“ He jumps, almost dropping the lunchbox, and Steve Harrington is sitting on the ground against the bed, laughing. “Christ,” he finishes, pressing a hand to his chest, and sure, maybe he’s hamming it up a little, but Steve’s eyes are sparkling, and he’s giggling at him. “Scared the shit out of me, Steve.”
“My bad.”
Eddie scoffs.
“Why’d I do what?”
“Not sell to Andy,” Steve says quietly. Eddie looks down at him. He’s holding a bottle in his hands between his knees. “He probably woulda paid you anything.”
“I know,” he says, hesitating and looking down at him. “Can I sit with you?”
“Mhmm.”
He sits heavily next to him against the bed, sighing.
“He’s high off his ass,” Eddie says. “Woulda paid me anything, probably woulda taken it all in one go. I like money but I don’t like being kind of responsible for overdoses.”
Steve just nods silently, his eyes trained on the bottle he’s holding.
“You’re a nice guy,” Steve says quietly after a moment.
Eddie scoffs.
“What are you laughing at?” Steve says, looking at him. His eyes are shiny. He looks sad.
“Don’t really hear that often.”
“You’re nice.”
“I think you’re nice.”
Steve is quiet, staring blankly at the floor.
“…Do you,” he says so softly it’s almost just a whisper.
“Yeah,” Eddie says. “You’re not like those other douchebags.”
“…My friends?”
Eddie winces.
“Sorry, I’m…”
“You’re right.” Steve sighs softly. “They are douchebags.”
Eddie relaxes against the bed. They’re sitting so close he can hear him breathing.
“Why are you friends with them?”
Steve keeps staring into space, shadows falling across his face in a way that makes him look like a painting. It’s quiet except for the muffled thumping of music, of voices shouting and singing.
“My dad works with Mr Hagan,” Steve says quietly. “If Tommy and I fight, or he hates me for whatever reason, and he tells his dad, it could…” He pauses, pressing his lips together. “Fuck with my dad’s business. Which I don’t really give a shit about, but when things at work are rough, Dad gets pissed, and when Dad’s pissed…” He trails off, sighing.
“Dads really suck sometimes,” Eddie says softly, and Steve scoffs.
“Yeah.”
They sit in silence for a moment, and Eddie sets the lunchbox down on the floor.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Hit me.”
“You draw often?”
Even in the dim lighting, Eddie can see Steve’s face flush pink, and Eddie grins.
“What makes you ask that?”
Eddie snorts, and Steve is giggling again.
“That drawing I saw,” Eddie says, looking at him. “I mean, it was… it was good. You don’t get that good with just one drawing, right?”
“Shut up,” Steve says shyly, holding the bottle to his chest. “It’s… I’m not supposed to, but…”
“Explain.”
Steve pauses, biting his lip and letting his head fall back to the bed. Eddie’s eyes trace the line of his throat.
“I drew when I was a kid,” he says quietly. “And it was fine, because I was a kid, and my teachers all said I was very creative, and had good motor skills, and…” He shrugs, looking across the room. “And then one day I tried to show my dad a new drawing. It was a pirate ship.”
“Yeah,” Eddie says softly, listening intently.
“And he snapped that Harringtons aren’t artists.” His mouth twists thoughtfully before he takes a breath and leans toward Eddie without looking at him. “He threw away all my crayons.”
“Your dad sounds like a royal asshole.”
“Yeah.” Steve laughs softly. “I couldn’t stop drawing though,” he says. “I wasn’t allowed to listen to music, and I never wanted to spend more time than necessary with my friends, and I’m shit at reading, so… It became like… an escape or some shit. I just never showed anyone.”
“I’d like to see more of your stuff,” Eddie says. “If you’d let me.”
Steve’s head falls back to the bed and he’s quiet for a moment.
“What’s your locker number?”
“My locker number?”
“Mm.”
“You gonna leave me little notes and shit?”
“…If you’d let me.”
Eddie’s cheeks flush and he looks away.
“Two thirty-six. In front of Wilkinson.”
“Cool.”
They’re quiet again. It’s oddly peaceful. Eddie’s never been a big fan of the quiet, always interrupting it with heavy music or his own voice, humming or talking to himself or just making noise. But with Steve it’s nice. He can almost hear his heartbeat.
“So what are you doing hiding away in here?” he asks after a while.
“Uh.” Steve sighs, taking a sip from the bottle. “Hiding away.”
“From?”
Steve shrugs.
“Everything, I guess. ‘S really fucking loud out there. Tommy’s being more of a dick than usual.” He pauses, swinging the bottle in his fingers. “Can’t drive, though. So I’m…”
“I was about to leave,” Eddie says gently. “I can give you a ride.”
“Where’re you going?”
“Just going to drive around,” he says truthfully. “But I can take you to your place if you wanna go home.”
Steve stares at the ground, his expression hardening as he thinks, brows furrowing, lips frowning.
“No, I wanna go with you.”
Eddie blinks.
“Just… to drive?”
“Yeah.” Steve glances at him, runs his face shyly. “My dad’s not home, but it— it always feels like he is, y’know?”
“Yeah,” Eddie says softly. “I know.”
Steve leans his head back, draining the bottle. Eddie watches his throat bob as he swallows.
“Uh, but we gotta go out that window,” Eddie adds, ignoring the warmth in his cheeks, pointing at the window. “It’s like the whole school is on the front porch and I am… slightly claustrophobic.”
Steve laughs lightly, his eyes shining again.
“Okay.”
Eddie beckons with a tilt of his head.
“Let’s get out of here.”
next part
read the whole thing on ao3
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