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#make things better and all live in the most comfortable and meaningful way possible?

munsonsreputation · 9 months

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I THINK THERE'S BEEN A GLITCH

CHAPTER TWO - MY PART OF TOWN ON A WEEKEND

↢ chapter one | series masterlist | chapter three ↣

steve harrington x fem!baker + artist

word count: [15.7K]

warnings: no use of y/n, breaking and entering (not in a bad way lol), talks mentions of self deprecation, steve opening up about his parents, cursing, mutual pining.

summary: Roane County soon becomes a place that Steve finds himself attracted to, especially for that one special person. Meanwhile you find it hard to believe that Steve and your new friends actually make the effort to show up for you in more ways than one--even if tonight it's just you and Steve. There's a newness yet comfort between the both of you that has been brewing since your first meeting, it's just a matter of when and where things will start to pick up...in his car, in your living room, or in your wildest dreams?

Steve didn’t know when he started becoming so prompt when it came to time, possibly when he picked up the duty of dropping off and picking up the kids from school. But nonetheless, he hated running late, and he also hated the fact that other people would be waiting on him. Today was no different, and he wasn’t planning on breaking a promise to a very special person whom he said he’d show up for.

He had specifically told Robin to be ready on time and to even call Eddie to remind him of today’s plans, seeing as though he was so forgetful, but obviously it just always had to be them and his horrible time managing friends.

Steve couldn’t wait, impatiently tapping his foot on the Wheeler’s driveway waiting for the rest of the kids to show up so they could get going, but of course if one was taking too long to get ready, the other wasn’t ready at all. Nancy and Jonathan had told him to get going first—that they would all meet up there eventually when everyone was ready.

And that should’ve worked out, except for the fact that Steve was the only person out of the group to make it past the “Welcome to Roane County” sign before city troopers closed the roads due to a bumper to bumper accident. The bouquet of flowers sitting in his passenger seat and the white top you had left behind in his bedroom in the backseat hoping to find its way back to you tonight.

With his foot on the pedal, he pressed down harder, watching each minute go by on his dash clock, hoping he’d be able to catch you in time before it was too late.

You sat on the wooden crate, elbows resting on your knees as you looked both ways watching bystanders walking through the halls of the almost empty gallery. It was a slow day, not too many people showed up, probably because it was a Sunday night and most times people had better things to do than walk around and observe art but part of you wished at least some would care.

To top it all off, you’d only gotten three sales out of the thirteen paintings you had brought to the event—not like they weren’t any good, but they were meaningful in your eyes and you wished others would see it too.

You had spent the last few days thinking about something other than Steve, knowing good and well that you were an adult and there was surely more to life than a guy. Bills had to be paid and the last thing you should be doing was kicking your feet and blushing like a high schooler with a crush on the pretty boy.

Plus, you realized that it didn’t do you any good thinking so hard about him and what he felt for you because it could be all in your head.

You needed to realize that banking and hoping he would feel the same just wasn’t worth your time or energy. If you kept digging yourself into this hole of feelings for him and those feelings not be reciprocated, you’d just bury yourself there in a pit of embarrassment.

You had learned long ago that holding out hope for something you weren’t positively confident about would only hurt you, and you were sure this was just something you were going to sweat out and laugh about later.

Both you and Steve were adults, and if there was a chance for more, then you’d just have to wait it out until you were sure.

The only thing keeping you going tonight was heading home and spending the rest of the night thinking about the next week and how much work you needed to get done. So much to be done, but so little energy and inspiration you had left to get it finished.

People always had this idea that your mind was constantly running with ideas too fast for your paintbrush or pen to catch, which in some instances could be the case, but for you it wasn’t as easy. You’d hit a drought in muse, barely having the spirit to get up and actually create something that was your own.

It was taking everything in you not to give up and call it quits because you worked too hard to get here. You had spent too many years proving and fighting towards a goal of following the dream that you envisioned for yourself. It was the voices of people telling you that your passion was “childish” or “just a hobby” that put a fire under your ass to get out of this artist block. That giving up this easily meant giving them the last laugh and you sure as hell weren’t going to do that.

“I’m not too late, am I?”

The pair of shoes coming into your line of sight followed by the voice you could never mistake broke through the barriers of your thoughts. You looked up and there he was, trying to catch his breath from the quick jog from the parking lot to the inside, not wanting to miss you before you packed up and left.

A wave of relief filled your anxiety ridden senses finally seeing someone that you recognized for the first time tonight.

“Steve.” You beamed up at him through your sad eyes, instantly standing up and wrapping him in a tight embrace.

“Hey.” He grinned against your head, pulling away somewhat to see your face, the sadness clearly fading with each second you two spent in each other’s arms.

“You’re not too late.” You exhaled before hugging him again and finally letting him go.

“And these are for you.”

He grinned handing over the small bunch of roses that you hadn’t noticed when he first walked in just relieved to see him here.

Your hands wrapped around the brown paper, shielding your palms from any stray thorns as you held them close to your chest and inhaling the clove scent that radiated off of the blossoms.

“Thanks!”

He nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets while you fidgeted with your hands. The two of you holding eye contact filled with happiness yet nervousness behind them—both of you trying not to let it show though.

Steve smiled broadly, seeing the artwork behind you, “I’m glad I made it on time, I wouldn’t wanna miss it. I was just stuck in traffic for a little. That’s why it took me a while to get here.”

A part of you felt terrible for the hassle he must have gone through, considering the fact that Roane was already an hour away from Hawkins. Adding traffic meant it must have taken longer than usual. If you had known, you would’ve told him it was alright for him not to make it today.

But the other part of you felt smitten that he had sat through that hour of traffic just to be here. It showed that he was committed and didn’t like breaking promises, even if it was as little as something like this.

God, you were totally forgetting that inner monologue you had about Steve and relationships doing you no good.

You reached out a hand, skimming his arm appreciatively as you grinned so widely it took up most of your face.

“You really didn’t have to, Steve.”

But your reaction told Steve that you felt otherwise from your words. More than elated with the fact that he had made the effort to show, and he was glad that he delivered. He wiggled, swinging his head, as your hand fell from his skin, wishing it would stay there longer so he could never forget it.

“I wanted to, and so did the others, but they were a little behind. You know, Will was really looking forward to coming tonight.” He mentioned wistfully.

Steve just now reminding you of the others who were not here beside him. It had totally slipped your mind that the rest of your friends weren’t here and greeting you tonight at the gallery.

But was it really wrong to admit that you also had totally forgotten that you had invited them in the first place?

It wasn’t like you didn’t care if they showed up or not, but you always learned to never set your expectations so high when it came to people showing up for you. Therefore, you always tried to not take it personally when others didn’t follow through with their words or commitments.

Back when you were still dating your ex, you used to invite him and your then friends to your galleries, expecting they’d just pop in to show some support, but they never did. So you just learned to suck it up and accept the fact that even if someone you loved said that they would show, there was always a possibility that they weren’t.

Yet here you were, with Steve being the one to show up, and now actually hearing how the others made an effort to want to show up tonight, too. It made you feel soft inside, like a plate of mush which would reduce to nothing because the tenderness was too much for you to handle and fathom for yourself.

“Oh…” You murmured under your breath, letting those words and his actions sink in for a second.

Steve caught it, the way you glassed over once he told you that information not knowing what you were feeling deep down.

“Buuuuttt I’m here so I hope it’s still ok.”

You snapped out of the glassed over expression the second you heard his voice coming to you again. It wasn’t just a dream of someone actually showing up for you…Steve was really here, and if it wasn’t for the damn traffic accident, the others would be here too. Friends who actually showed up for you for once.

“More than ok.” You grinned, nodding more to yourself than to him.

He smiled once you came back too, your free hand reaching out to grab his arm and lead you to the canvas that you propped up against the walls. Your fingertips only fell off his skin as you took the time to rearrange the canvas so that he could see them all clearly without them overlapping one another.

Every piece was different, yet the same, a collage of colors and techniques that worked together to make such a sight for the eyes. And for the first time in Steve Harrington’s life, he came to appreciate art and almost felt like he could see every brush stroke that you had put into them.

His own fingertips strung free from his pockets, reaching out to feel the paint over his skin. There was a texture in this specific painting, the one of a bright blue sky with pastel clouds, something out of a lover-like fantasy world.

“Wow… so this is all you, right?”

You nervously squeezed your hand tightly around the stems, nodding your head “Yeah, and they’re not my best work but—“

At the admission of hearing you tear yourself down so quickly, he jumped in headfirst and didn’t let you finish that sentence. Instead, he looked at you like you were totally mad — furry brows bunched together as he pshed and gestured back to Lover painting he was now going to coin it.

“No, these are amazing… I mean like seriously, the details are so realistic.”

You laughed lightly, whispering a soft “thank you.”

You watched him, the way he didn’t skip a beat, grabbing the next painting beside the pastel sunset. There was a visible contrast between the two canvases. Unlike the previous one that was filled with bright colors, this was gray and black. A forest somewhere that you had made up in your imagination, with tall trees and an ominous fog that you could only dream about what was on the other side of it.

“How much?” Steve asked you, turning his head to look your way where you raised your brows confused.

“What?” Your eyes squinted, trying to understand if he meant how much time you took to paint it.

“For a painting. This one looks really cool and I think it would look nice on my wall. The car poster is getting a little lonely up there all by itself.”

He chuckled, looking back at the painting and holding it far out towards the wall to try to picture it in his room.

You couldn’t take him seriously. There was no way he was asking you how much a painting was. None of your friends ever bought a piece of your artwork, and never even voiced want to own something that you had taken the time to make. Which is why you never really had a lot of friends anymore, but let alone believe what you heard coming from Steve’s mouth.

“W-what?”

He looked at you, raising his brows then going to pick up another, “No? Then what about this one? I think it would be a nice contrast because the colors of my walls are actually—”

You stopped him, clutching onto his wrist because you couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t have to pity you and purchase something just to be kind. You didn’t want him to go out of his way for that.

“Steve, you really don’t have to buy one.” Your voice was full of trepidation and uncertainty, something he didn’t understand.

He placed the piece down prompting you to let go of his wrist as you shuffled back awkwardly, not meeting his eyes and instead boring holes into the pieces you had made, judging every detail and how Steve couldn’t possibly own one of them, let alone hang it on his wall.

“Why not?” He sought gently, his fingertips grazing your hands that you tugged on, halting you for a moment as you finally looked up to meet his eyes.

You swallowed, wiggling your shoulders as you struggled to find the words.

“B-because, I don’t know…they’re really not my best work and it’s embarrassing—“

Again, he shook his head with a look of reassurance accompanied with a deep frown that was unhappy about the way you were talking about yourself and the things you created.

“Hey, nonono, they’re all so beautiful. I’m serious. And I seriously want to buy one, so please?”

You took a deep breath, tightly pursing your lips and nodding, “Fine, ummm, just pick any you want… let’s say, $20!”

He finally let up, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out more than a $20 bill and placing it in the palm of your hand, “You’re selling yourself too short.”

The contact of your hands touching already made your heart race a little faster, but it was the squeeze that he gave you that made your knees weak, along with the signature toothy smile that was a burning image in your head.

His hand retraced a few seconds later allowing you to stuff the cash into your back pocket, “No one buys art from an amateur over $20.”

“Then they don’t deserve your art because this is worth way over $20.”

“Thanks, Steve.”

There was a few seconds of silence, watching Steve examine the piece he had picked out and you trying to see what wheels were spinning in his head. Probably him thinking about which wall to hang it on or worse, where the nearest garbage can was so he could dump it out and forget about it.

You pinched your eyes shut for a minute, silently cursing yourself out of these stupid self-deprecating thoughts that always seemed to come out for no goddamn reason at all, even after the nice things Steve had said.

“I should pack up, everyone is leaving.” You cradled the bunches of flowers in your arm getting ready to clean up and get going, but of course, Steve beat you to it.

Flipping over the wooden crate you were once sitting on, he tucked his purchased canvas under his arm while he carefully began to grab the other canvas, standing them upright in the wooden box.

He always did this, and you weren’t sure if it was just when it came to you, or maybe it was a thing he did with the rest of his friends. But he was always willing to help—at least when it came to you. Always springing into action before you could even ask for help and even if you didn’t, he wanted to.

“Will these fit in your trunk, or should I put them in the backseat?” He asked, beginning to walk towards the exit doors, ignoring your protests to try to carry the crate yourself.

You eventually gave up, a small snicker coming from him that you picked up on as you caught up with him.

“Umm neither? I took the bus today.”

He held the door open for you with his foot, listening while you walked out into the brisk night air.

“I could give you a ride back home?” He suggested, looking at you, trying to decide.

“Are you sure?” You bit your lip, looking up at him where he nodded and fished his keys out of his pocket, dangling it in the air.

You smiled softly, finishing into your own pocket, fingers spreading the cash he had given you just a few moments earlier, “I’ll take it if you let me pay for dinner?”

He shook his head with a chuckle before devotedly nodding his head.

“We have a deal.”

The maroon BMW was easy to spot in the parking lot. Steve clicked the unlock button as the car offered one, two beeps before he popped the trunk open and carefully placed your things in there. You were already making your way to the passenger seat as he shut it, ready to pull the door open, but his hand reached forward first.

Your eyes jerked to his, where he hovered closely behind you before pulling it open, “let me.”

Was Steve always this gentleman-like? Did he always open the door for his passengers? Maybe for Robin, but you weren’t quite sure about the others. Though you didn’t have much time to ponder his chivalrous, the door slightly closed after you had gotten in and the driver’s door opened as he jogged over.

“Where are we headed?” He tugged on his seatbelt, clicking it in as his eyes remained on yours.

“Do you like breakfast for dinner?” You asked, fingers brushing over the floral petals sitting in your lap before you flickered your eyes up at him.

“Show me the way.” He grinned, putting the car in drive and letting you give him directions to your favorite spot.

Maybe it was the fact that Steve had done a good job at preparing himself to not look and sound like an idiot when it came to you, but today he was more at ease which was surprising considering the fact that it was your first time alone without the rest of the crew actually around. All of the nervousness and built up anxiety from the last encounter seemed to have melted from both of your minds, just focusing on the now and savoring it.

When you and Steve finally arrived, you had beat him to opening your door, however he did walk a few milliseconds faster just so he could hold the front doors to the diner open while you brushed past him with a giggle.

“Hi, sweetie pie!”

The voice of your dear friend and favorite waitress, Dorothea, came barreling out the double doors of the kitchen as she caught your entrance through the tiny window sliver. Dorothea was a lot older than you, but she felt like the only friend and mother figure you had here in Roane.

You immediately wrapped your arms around her, hugging her closely with a squeeze, “Hi, Dorthy! Missed you!”

She laughed at your nickname for her, rubbing your back warmly before pulling away and turning her curious sights to Steve, “Missed you more, pumpkin. And who might this be?”

You backed away, just enough to stand beside Steve and gesture to him, “A friend of mine! He came by to stop at the gallery and I had to take him here.”

He waved at her, stepping forward with a hand lent out for her to shake, but in Dorthy’s overly-friendly manner, she wrapped him up in a hug, a tight one just like she had you in a few moments ago.

“Oh—well this is nice.” He mumbled, making you stifle a laugh as he shyly hugged her back and patted her shoulder stiffly.

Finally letting go, she took a good look at him, almost inspecting every detail of his face with her brows slightly raised, trying to intimidate him and send him running out the door. It was safe to say that Dorothea was protective of you, just like a mother would to a daughter, and to her, you were the one she never had. It meant a lot to see you walking in for the first time in a year with a boy whom she had never seen by your side. But seeing as though Steve didn’t seem to be scared or cower backwards, she laughed, giving his shoulder a firm pat.

“Your name?” She ordered plainly.

He swallowed, glancing at your not so fazed self, “Umm, Steve. Steve Harrington.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve!” She patted him on the back, before turning to you with a wink, “C’mon, your favorite seat is open.”

You screeched softly, clapping your hands to yourself quietly. Dorthy guided the both of you to a secluded booth in the back of the diner, the one with the only working jukebox machine and motioned for you to slide in and take a seat.

“Wanna take a look at the menu, hun?” Dorthy pulled out a copy of the menu from her apron, passing it to Steve who thanked her.

“Do you know what you’re getting?” He proposed, looking up at you from the menu.

You nodded with a smile, your eyes drifting up, seeing her pen drifting over the notepad just awaiting your confirmation.

“The usual,” you responded as she bowed and began jotting it down.

As she wrote, you turned your attention back to Steve, filling him in on what you ordered all the time.

“A Spanish omelet. A side of French toast smothered with strawberries, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce. And a small decaf and water.”

“A meal fit for champions.” Dorthy quips as Steve laughs, not bothering to look at the rest of the menu.

“I’ll get the same thing, but instead of strawberries can I do the blueberries?”

“Sure, hon,” she says, doubling the order and making a note from the fruit substitute.

Steve handed her back the menu as she finished up, watching the ballpoint pen point towards the wall of the booth where Strawberry Shortcake and Elvis were singing next to a road sign that read, “Music and Food Ahead!”

“You know she did the mural in here?”

Dorth wore a proud expression, watching Steve’s eyes go wide, and twisting his head around at the restaurant that was covered in your art.

You rolled your eyes lovingly, shoving away at her hands, “stop it, Dorth!”

“Holy shit…you did all this by yourself?”

Steve leaned closer to the wall, getting a good look at the meticulous detail that you put into the whole thing. His eyes shuffled between going wide and squinting to take it all in.

Dorothea didn’t give you time to respond to his question, instead speaking for you, “Yep, in 113 hours.”

“131” you corrected with a smirk as she rolled her eyes sarcastically and clicked her pen shut.

Steve let out another expletive under his breath, tearing his eyes from the wall leaning back into the seat to look at you in amazement that you hadn’t told him this sooner. If he had known you had painted and designed a mural for a diner as big as this one, he would’ve asked Jonathan if he could borrow his camera so he could take pictures of it.

“131 hours… she’s talented, you know.” She raised her brows at Steve with a hand on her hip.

He beamed, patting the walls and not letting his eyes leave yours, “Insanely.”

Dorothea was warming up to him, a giddy laugh erupting as she nudged your shoulder with her elbow.

“I like him!” She buzzed not so softly to you as you giggled and hung your head down shyly away from Steve’s gaze.

The ripping of paper came from her notepad, ready to head back over to the kitchen and get your dishes started,

“Food should be out in twenty. Try not to break the jukebox in the meantime.”

You looked back over your shoulder shouting out, “I would never!” as she waved her hand in the air mindlessly at you

Steve’s eyes were still glued to you, filled with awe at hearing just how much work you put into doing this all yourself. But you, on the other hand, were too busy scanning the songs on the marquee, wondering which one you would pick to play first.

“I still can’t believe you did all this.” Steve shook his head in disbelief, fingers tracing the outline of the road that you painted on the adjacent wall.

You grunted, wiggling your shoulders as you began to tell him more of how you got in that position in the first place.

“Dorothea and I met because she used to stop by the gallery from time to time and when she got the job here, she told the owner about my work.”

“Really?” Steve asked, watching you finally take your sights away from the jukebox and look at him.

You nodded, resting your chin on your fist, “Originally they just had the checkerboard pattern in here,” you pointed to the black-and-white tiles that were on the ground, his eyes following your finger.

“But then Dorothy reached out and asked if I was willing to come in and do a custom 50s mural.”

“But in that many hours? How’s that even possible?” He crossed his arms over his chest watching you closely.

You looked behind you suspiciously before leaning closer towards him, your mouth covering one side of your mouth as you whispered.

“A ton of coffee and a promise of free food for life….but the owner doesn’t know that.” You confessed, watching him throw his head back and cover his face as he laughed.

“You’re gonna milk them dry of coffee and pancakes one day,” He joked

You shrugged your shoulders, relaxing back into the booth and sighing, “They’ll survive just like how I survived painting this piece of crap.”

The insult towards yourself slipped without hesitation, masked with faint laughter while you looked around the too colorful restaurant where the walls were littered with everything that came from your hands.

As soon as it left your mouth, Steve’s laughter stopped watching your eyes drift over the rest of the diner, shaking your head to yourself as if you were disgusted with the masterpiece you made. He didn’t know why you were so hard on yourself, your own worst critic at times even when it came to little things that he would die to be praised upon.

But you hated it as if you hated yourself.

“Why do you always do that?” He sought, leaning on his elbows, seeing you turn to face him.

Your forehead creased up, silently asking him what he meant.

“Why do you always tear yourself down? I—I noticed that about you.”

His voice was quiet, mixed with a hint of concern, obviously. The crease in your forehead fell, and instead you looked almost bewildered, as if you didn’t know how to answer it rather than why he was questioning you in the first place.

“I don’t know, i—it’s easier for me to be critical than to be nice to myself.” You admitted, swallowing and looking down at the jukebox like the list of songs would distract you from his stare you could feel.

“Why?” Steve asked again simply, not trying to prod but just trying to understand.

You shrugged again, not meeting his eyes this time around, “It’s what I’m used to hearing — how I need to do more instead of being satisfied with what I did.”

“Then why not just think about what you did in the moment and be proud of that?”

You scoffed, not with any harsh intentions but just at the irony, because you always tried but had those other voices eating away at you. The devil living rent free in your consciousness, tearing you down at every opportunity.

“You mean what wasn’t enough?” You respond dryly, and Steve rolled his eyes, tutting at your response.

He offers you a stern look, but at the same time a gentle kind that tells you he truly means what he’s saying.

“Stop that. You’re doing it again and you know that it’s not true.”

“It kinda is…I mean, just look at me. I haven’t painted anything in days. You bought a canvas that I haven’t been able to sell in months. I’m practically the epitome of a failure right now.”

You looked just as stressed as you sounded. Hands running from your forehead to your scalp, threading your fingers through your hair and giving them a slight tug. Lips parted as you took a deep and long breath out. Eyes pinching closed accompanied with a shake of your head before they snapped open and met his apologetically.

“S—sorry, I’m rambling. I just…it’s been so hard to actually get stuff done, y’know?”

He nodded sympathetically as if he knew exactly what you were talking about, but in his head, the most stressful thing that happened with his job was getting tapes returned after the deadline and having to deal with complicated customers who didn’t want to pay the late fee.

Still, he just wanted to make you feel better.

“I mean, I get it,” He started, swallowing, trying to gather his thoughts into a clump of something that would make sense.

“…I can’t even imagine how stressful painting this entire restaurant must have been, and on top of that, I know it’s probably a lot of pressure to keep producing those pieces of art—but it’s gotta be worth a little more than money, you know?”

Steve’s words intrigued and perplexed you in the best possible way. Letting up on the tug you have on your roots, you brought your fists back down to your chin as you raised a querying brow at him. He understood, nodding as he licked his lips and peers up again, trying to muster the thoughts.

“Like—it’s like you don’t realize that people are actually so captivated by what you make. I swear, if you told Robin or Will that you painted this place, they’d go batshit crazy and run around here complimenting everything you did. So would everyone else.”

There is truth to every single word he’s saying and Steve knows that, yet you still sit across from him, wondering if that’s really true. As if there was a possibility that he’d ever lie about something so small yet incredibly important to you, because this was a habit of self-deprecation that was planted by someone who was the opposite of Steve.

The person who would nit-pick at everything you did and made you feel like the things that you enjoyed doing and were proud of shouldn’t be on a pedestal and appreciated. Instead, it was knocked off and shattered into a million tiny pieces where every single flaw was showcased.

And while the person wasn’t in your life anyone, there was a permanent mark that you couldn’t erase and the habit that you never got the chance to grow out of — being so judgemental and critical of yourself.

“I’m sorry…did—did I say something?”

You were quiet for less than a minute, but it was enough to fret Steve and regret what he had said, thinking he must have hit a little too close to home.

Why was he always like this? It happened just a few days ago when you both were separated between his bedroom door and now sitting here in front of you actually seeing you go silent felt even more anxiety inducing.

But you shook your head quickly, glazed eyes coming back to life, full of reassurance just like the words that you spoke a little too fast for your liking.

“Yeah…I mean no! I mean, yeah, you said something, but not in a bad way. In a good way, actually! I just… sorry, I’m thinking.”

Steve replied with a small tight-lipped smile, nodding his head as a way to say, take all the time you need and think away… but just be sure to think good things about yourself.

You turned your head on your hands, deliberately making a round through the diner that you painted and poured your heart and soul into. That sure, while Dorthy had to bribe you with some coffee and food because the owner didn’t meet your price, it was actually decent and if you weren’t the one who painted it, you would’ve been praising it every time you walked in here.

Even if you painted Strawberry Shortcake’s lashes a little too full that it looked like spider legs or made Elvis’ hair so tall it could be mistaken for a wave, it all came together and like Steve said it was worth more than what you were paid.

It gave you experience.

Spending days going back-and-forth sharing sketches with the owner and even his little daughter that begged and pleaded with her dad to include Strawberry Shortcake despite the 50s theme.

Multiple trips back over to your favorite art store in Hawkins to pick up the paints that you liked to work with in too many shades to count.

Long days and even longer nights with your headphones blasting the same tape on repeat when you just started outlining the whole thing.

Hunched over in awkward positions and standing on a creaky ladder to make sure you didn’t miss filling in a spot with color.

On goers on the other side of the windows peering in to admire the art inside the diner that would soon be a grand opening to them.

Signing your name teeny tiny-ly in pink right beside Strawberry Shortcake’s hat when you finally finished the whole piece.

Getting the biggest hug from the owner’s daughter once she stepped in and saw her favorite character painted included on the mural.

Getting even more compliments and praise from the staff and customers who were impressed by the sheer talent that was depicted on the wall.

Steve was right.

It was worth more than money and sure as hell was worth a lot more than your critiques when you did the very best you could with the deal you had in front of you at the time.

Why were you always so mean to yourself when all you wanted was to just be nice?

You were nice to Dorthea.

You were nice to Robin.

You were to all of your new friends.

You were especially nice to Steve.

But you weren’t nice to yourself.

You had to start making an effort to be.

Your eyes made its last round of the diner, ending with your orbs meeting Steve’s, whose didn’t seem to tear away from you during your thinking time. He watched every second, seeing the way you’d pinch your eyes tight to see something better and how he could tell there was happiness behind them when they landed on a particular part you were proud of.

The wheels were turning in your head and he hoped what he said stuck because he wanted, needed you to know his words were true. You were everything in a way that was too profound for him to ever describe.

“Whatcha thinking?” Steve pondered out loud as your eyes finally landed on his.

You smiled gingerly, shrugging your shoulders, “That I ought to be nicer to myself.”

“Yeah?” Steve grinned heartily, content with the fact that you were seeing it through the way that he was.

You nodded assuringly before your hands trailed behind you, reaching into your pocket and pulling out your wallet. He watched you, hearing the zip from a compartment being opened followed by the clank of the coin dropping onto the table.

“Annnnnnd I’m also thinking about what song I’m gonna play.”

He chuckled, shaking his head at how short and sweet you kept it when it came to what you were really thinking about just then. But to him what mattered the most was that you heard him out and something inside you lit up bright enough if you had told him that you were really going to start being nicer to yourself.

Whatever you were thinking and keeping to yourself was fine by him, just crossing his fingers that he wouldn’t need to hear you tear yourself down any longer because if he did, he was sure that he was going to tell you all the reasons why he thought you were so great.

Your fingernail traveled down the list of songs, beaming excitedly when you saw your favorite as you hastily inserted the coin and punched in the number and letter that got the tune ringing through the restaurant speakers.

Steve couldn’t help but smile as the piano crescendoed through the diner and your head thumped to the beat while your mouth moved along with the lyrics. Last summer he had taken the kids to watch Top Gun at the theaters and for a week straight they couldn’t stop singing the song. He had almost grown annoyed with it until now.

He was going to be sure to thank them for singing it so much that the lyrics were now ingrained in his brain so much so that he didn’t miss a beat mouthing along with you as you giggled through the tune, surprised he knew it so well by heart.

Though you were sitting, Steve could tell that you were letting go in some oddly cute way that he hadn’t seen you before. Your shoulders grooving to the beat and your hair tousling with each shake you gave to accompany the rhythm. You looked like you were having the time of your life here with him even if it was just at some diner in your part of town with your favorite song playing in the background.

His palms rested against the cool table top, sliding himself out of his seat and holding out his hands towards you as the music continued. Your head bops stopped for only a few seconds, eyeing the hand he held out to you before trailing to his face.

“Let’s dance?” He asked, wiggling his brows while his head thumped.

You bit your lip, looking back at the nearly empty diner knowing that it didn’t matter if this place was full or not, you were going to take his hand and dance for the next two minutes. Being nicer to yourself meant many things and not caring what others thought was one of them.

“Sure, why not,” you breathed, taking his hand as he pulled you up out of your seat and began moving the both of you to the beat of the music as you sang along.

Your hands holding onto his as you both jumped around looking like complete love sick fools in the back of the diner where the few customers way up front smiled at the sight. Laughter intertwined with the singing and hair moving in every direction with each sway and turn.

All the care in the world that you could give right now went out the window with Steve’s hand in yours. Not even in the romantic or platonic sense, but in a human way that was too complex for you to describe. Like some sort of sorcery that sucked you into an alternate dimension where you could just be free of judgment and anxiety.

At one point in your life, you used to sit across the table with someone who would tell you to stop wasting your quarters playing dumb 50s love songs while you devoured pancakes. And here you were playing those stupidly dumb love songs with someone who got up and asked you to dance not caring how many quarters you’d use for the remainder of the night.

Steve wished that he had ordered more food because maybe then it would take longer for the order to come out and cut the dancing short, but still he kept it going. Pouring out all his change into a pile near the jukebox as you two ate your dinner, taking turns picking songs while he resisted the urge to ask you to dance with him again.

If he did, however, you were sure you’d drop your fork in a snap and take his hand all over again.

A snap back to reality is what Steve took instead, instantly flooded with a hug from Dorothea as she walked you two out of the diner and wrapped her arms across his body snuggly.

“It was nice meeting you, honey bun! Get her home safely and I hope I see you around soon!”

Steve snickered, nodding against her shoulder before he pulled away and stepped aside, giving you ample room to hug her.

“Bye, Dorth, I’ll see you! Thanks again for dinner!”

You kissed her cheek lovingly before pulling away, waving one last goodbye to her before you and Steve walked towards his car.

It didn’t surprise you that instead of heading towards the driver’s side; he jogged up to the passenger door, holding it wide open for you as you trailed a bits behind him. You shook your head halfheartedly, watching a smirk splay over his face still holding the door for you.

“After you,” He said in his best English accent, making you giggle as you slid into the seat and he shut the door before you could give him your gratitude.

A few seconds later, he was already in the driver’s seat, buckling in and starting up the car, ready for the drive back to your place. You watched him check his mirrors one last time before he shifted the car to reverse, his head turning back to the rear as his hand rested behind your chair as he backed out.

“Did you need me to give you directions?” You shifted your body towards him.

He shook his head, turning back around and moving the car into drive, “I think I know the way from here, but a little tour guide would be nice.”

The radio wasn’t needed for the car ride back, instead the air was filled with gasps and pointed fingers in different directions as Steve drove and you happily gave him a brief tour of your part of town. Not that it was any different from Hawkins with the small-town feel to it, but in a lot of ways Roane just felt more cozy.

Steve picked up on that right away, feeling the sense that Roane was more like you in many ways, but especially the scenery. Even in the night, he could see the rose bushes that decorated the side roads and the endless turns into different mom-and-pops that were slowly dying out in his town.

You pointed out the small park down the road which held your town’s weekly farmers’ market that you grocery shopped at most of the time. A lot of the produce was from local farmers and gardens. You even mentioned that during the fall, Merrill Wright who owns the pumpkin patch in Hawkins, occasionally stops by and donates pumpkins for the town’s annual carving contest.

But your favorite part of town seemed to be a small cafe called Taylor’s, or that’s just what Steve was assuming by your reaction.

“And that’s my favorite coffee shop!” You blurted, pointing at the quaint store on the corner of the block you and Steve drove past.

You began to trail off, telling him about the place that you found yourself always going to, “They have this honey rose latte, and it’s like the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life… you need to try it! And they make these things called cronuts—”

“Cronuts?” Steve peeked over at you with a soft smile playing on his lips, captivated by your enthusiasm over a baked good that was foreign to him.

“Yeah! So it’s basically like if a croissant and donut had a child. Perfectly flaky on the outside, yet soft and buttery on the inside. They make a couple of variations every morning, but they usually sell out so quickly before I can get my hands on any.”

You sighed sadly, sulking back into the seat, knowing that you were never really a morning person and with their early opening time, it would be impossible to drag yourself out of bed to snag a dozen, no matter how heavenly they tasted.

“Have you ever tried making your own? I’m sure you could do it,” Steve spoke, turning the wheel into your complex.

You shook your head. “I tried a few times, but I can’t seem to get it down. I even tried asking the owners to share the recipe, but I think it’s one of the family ones that they want to keep a secret.”

He turned into a parking spot directly in front of your unit where the motion sensor light sparked up, casting a gentle golden glow around the both of you.

“That’s a shame. You know, I could always try to sneak in and steal their secret recipe for you?” His voice was laced with playfulness.

You couldn’t help but giggle, scrunching your face up with laughter, “I don’t think I’d have enough to bail you out for trespassing and robbery, Steve.”

His eyes drifted up in the air, while his fingers pointed at you. “But if I get the recipe for you, then you could open up your own place and outsell them, then you could bail me out.”

You reached out to poke at his arm gently, shaking your head. “Don’t entice me! Though I don’t think I’d be able to sleep or bake knowing you’re locked up.”

The car had been placed into park a little while ago, yet here you and Steve sat, still looking at each other with awfully wide smiles that didn’t have any plans to disappear anytime soon — the two of you wanting to stay in the sweet warmth that enveloped you.

Steve shrugged his shoulders and his eyes sparkled with adoration, “Oh, you don’t have to worry about me. The guys would totally be scared to mess with me after hearing how far I went to get a recipe for the best baker in Roane.”

You blushed stupidly at his words, “I’m just a regular person that enjoys baking!”

“Nope! You’re like on some Julia Child level. I won’t be surprised if you have your own baking show one day.” He said genuinely.

Crackling your nose, genuine humor and horror flashed over your face, “Ew god no! She’s amazing and I’m terrible on camera. I’ll probably freeze up and forget that I’m supposed to be talking the audience through every step.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, scolding you softly, “Hey, be nice to yourself.”

Your eyes widened at the realization, totally letting the comment slip by accident, “Sorry! Sorry, I forgot! But like seriously, I’m camera shy and that’s a fact, not an insecurity thing.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, when I was seven the local reporter asked me what my favorite ride at the county fair was and I froze up and I asked for my mommy.”

He pursed his lips, blinking his eyes closed and nodding his head admittedly while you slapped a hand over your mouth in shock. You tried to stifle your laughter but you couldn’t, convulsing down with endless giggles erupting in your chest.

“Steve! God, I’m so sorry! You must have been traumatized!”

He joined in on the laughter, rubbing his hand behind his neck, “I refused to watch the news! Every time my dad would turn it on, I would sprint towards the remote and change the channel because I was terrified of seeing myself on there.”

“I guess that would make two of us dorks on camera.” You settled down, eyes lingering on him where he nodded with a smile.

Neither of you wanted to say goodnight.

“I-I had a really great time tonight.” You started, rubbing your hands together in your lap, the slight wrinkling of the brown wrapping paper around the flowers making the only noise in the car.

He hummed in agreement, “So did I…the most fun in a while, but I’m probably going to be dreading sitting in traffic all the way back home, but it was worth—”

“Why don’t you stay over at mine tonight?”

The offer came out a little quick for your liking, even without you fully thinking it through, but it just seemed like the right thing to say.

“Really?” Steve asked, lifting his brows

You nodded, gulping down quickly, “Yeah! I can take the couch and you can take—”

“I’m not letting you take the couch.”

You breathed out, rolling your eyes, “Fine! You can take the couch and I’ll be sure to give you plenty of blankets and fluff up the pillows extra nice.”

“Hmm, it sounds tempting. You sure? I really don’t mind sitting through the traffic.”

You nodded firmly again, “Positive! Plus, they take forever to reopen the roads here, but they’ll probably be open in the morning and it’ll be just right.”

After having reassured him of his stay, he removed the keys out of the ignition before following your lead as you exited the car. You remained on the pavement, subconsciously waiting for Steve and digging into your jean pocket for your keys. Steve was quick, making a pit stop at the trunk to grab your crate of paintings you had forgotten about.

“Oh, thank you!” You whispered as you felt him behind you.

He simply smiled, following step by step to your front door and lingering close by as you worked the key into the lock, twisting it open. You entered first, your hand blindlessly pushing the door to keep it open for Steve as he stepped through. The dark entrance quickly lit up with the yellow fluorescence from when you flipped the light switch on.

You tioed your sneakers off, placing them on the small rack near the door and tossing your keys in the small pottery bowl.

“You can just give those to me.” You said, holding your arm out to finally take the crate from Steve as he obliged and worked on unlacing his shoes and placing them next to yours.

You walked deeper into your apartment, setting the crate down in an empty corner in the living room before you began turning on the rest of the lights to brighten up the place a bit. Surprisingly, you kept the place pretty tidy over the last few days, just a couple of paint bottles that you had left on the coffee table as you attempted to paint this morning before the gallery — unfortunately, that was unsuccessful.

And while Steve kept to himself, watching you quietly as you walked around and picked up a few things you had lying around, he couldn’t help but notice the vase of flowers he had previously given to you, still thriving in the middle of your coffee table.

Soon you were already heading towards the kitchen, walking past him with the new bunch of flowers in your hand ready to get them in another vase before they began to wilt.

“Do you want something to drink? Tea or anything?” You called out, tearing off the brown wrapping and tossing it into the rubbish before reaching for a glass jar to store them in for the meantime.

Steve didn’t miss a beat, crossing the short distance between the kitchen and the hallway watching you place the roses upon the kitchen window sill hoping they’d catch some much needed sunlight in the morning.

You turned on your heel, reaching for the fridge and opening it to retrieve the pitcher full of cold water.

“Just some water.” He said, grabbing clean glasses from the dishrack and held them out for you as you poured.

Steve waited until you closed the fridge before pushing out your glass first, letting you get your sip before him. To you it felt like a nice flow with him here, like a harmony of domesticity that you didn’t know you had been missing out on.

You leaned against the counter, watching him gulp the remainder of his water as you spoke, “Should I shower first, then you second? I think I might have a pair of sweats that could fit you, but I don’t think I’ll have a top or anything like that.”

He swallowed and nodded, “That’s fine, just some pants will be good enough. You don’t mind if I use the phone to call Robs? Just wanna let her know that I’m staying the night before she spam calls my house.”

You laughed, pointing towards the living room where the rotary phone sat on a small table near the couch, “She must be worried sick, so you better call soon. I’m gonna go shower really quick. And I swear I won’t use all the hot water!”

“No, please, don’t stop your hot water hogging in my presence.” He called out as you laughed out loud on your way to your bedroom to fetch a clean pair of pajamas for the night.

He heard the bathroom door shut and the water from the shower start up. Reaching back into the fridge, he poured himself another half cup of water, and finished it quickly before grabbing both his and your cup and heading towards the sink. After giving them a brief wash and setting them upside down on the rack to air dry, he plopped onto the couch, picking up the phone and dialing the numbers he knew by heart.

One, two, two-and-a-half rings, then the line picked up.

“I am so sorry we didn’t make it tonight! I swear, I was telling Eddie to drive faster, but then the stupid city troopers just started blaring their sirens and stepping out onto the road and before you know it, the road was closed, which is why—”

Maybe he had gotten accustomed to Robin’s rants, but he was almost about to let her finish before he had realized that she thought it was you on the other line and not her.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to suppress his laughter as he cut her off, “Robin, jeez, slow down, it’s just—”

“Steve!” she exclaimed, nearly damaging his eardrums, “Why does it say you’re calling from Roane County?”

“Because I’m in Roane, dingus. I’m spending the night at her apartment. Traffic is still way too backed up for me to make it back to Hawkins tonight.”

There was a sharp gasp that came from her, followed by a hand hitting something, or actually someone who was sitting beside her, and shrieked out a “What!” in response.

Not that Robin was a great liar or anything, but Steve just knew she was doing a bad job at trying to hide the fact that Nancy, Max, and El were also in her bedroom, as he couldn’t mistake their familiar voices and gasps — especially Robin’s not so quiet whisper.

“Steve is spending the night with her at the apartment! Holy shit, he finally made his move!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose again, stretching the phone away from his ear as the sounds of girly screams and giggles came loudly from the other side. Rustling followed, which sounded like the phone dropped before it was picked up, and Robin’s voice echoed again.

“Steve? Steve, hello, are you still there?!”

“If I say yes, will you guys stop screaming like six-year-olds?” He asked with a heavy sigh, followed by a grunt by Robin.

Steve swore he could see the rolling over her eyes, just by the sarcastic scoff she offered him, “Don’t be ridiculous Steve, we’re more like ten-year-olds. Still in our youth, yet on the brink of teenage dirtbag status.”

“You have to stop hanging out with Eddie, I swear—you know what, whatever. I’m staying at her place as a friend. Did you get that? Friend.”

Again, there was that knowing sarcastic scoff that she responded with that would be followed with her classic banter.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Stevie. Just make sure you wear a rubber if you and her plan to “spend the night” as more than friends! I don’t need my friend knocked up with baby Harrington before her and I got the chance to go bar hopping.”

“Can we come too?” He could hear the two eager voices of El and Max in the background.

“No.”

Max jumped in, leaning in closer to the receiver, “To which one exactly? You and her sleeping together or us going to the bar?”

Steve hissed, shutting his eyes tightly “Robin, take me off a speaker! And that’s a no to both, by the way!”

There was laughter erupting from the other side again, before he heard a click and Robin’s voice came in a lot clearer as she pressed the phone to her ear, cutting Steve off from the rest of the gals.

“I’m just poking some fun at you, dingus. Your sex lives are none of my business, but I’m just trying to preach safety. How was the gallery by the way?”

He took a deep breath of relief, finally escaping to what he hoped would be a normal conversation with the uncomfortable comments towards him and his sex life that really was zero to none.

“Great. I actually bought something off of her, plan to hang it on my wall right next to the car poster above my desk.” He answered.

“Honestly, if I were you, just ditch that lame car poster and buy the rest of her art and flood your walls with it.” She half joked.

“No, that would be creepy — like a stalker level creepy or something. I don’t want her to think I’m creepy.”

Robin snorted. “The fact that you even considered it shows me how badly you actually want to get rid of that car poster.”

“Whatever…gonna throw it out next weekend or something.” He sighed, realizing that he had grown out of the lame car poster since he was sixteen.

“Or we could donate it to the Salvation Army? Maybe some pretentious twelve-year-old will think it’s another man’s treasure.” Robin suggested half jokingly.

“Yeah, okay, whatever. Anyway, after the gallery we went for dinner at her favorite diner—”

She gasped as if she knew exactly what he was talking about, “The one with the French toast smothered in strawberries?!”

He chuckled, nodding his head to himself. “Yeah, that one. She got hers with strawberries and I got blueberries.”

“Do you have something against strawberries?” She accused suspiciously.

“I thought I told you they’re too tart for my tastebuds — now can I tell you about the rest of the night?”

“Please do.” She responded, dropping the whole spiel about fruit and forgetting why she asked in the first place.

“Before we got our food, we talked, then we danced, then we ate and then we ended up here. She’s in the shower right now.” He looked down the hallway still hearing the shower going in the bathroom.

“Danced? Since when did you like dancing and may I ask what song?”

He pshed, rolling his eyes but he knew she could feel it, “I always liked dancing just not with you because you always step on my feet, and it was Great Balls of Fire.”

“Dude, I stepped on your foot like twice and it was actually your fault because you got the routine wrong! And I thought you said you hated that song?”

“Well, I don’t hate the song… at least not anymore.”

There was a gag on the other side of the line, making him chuckle before she spoke, “You’re so in love it makes me physically sick.”

His eyes widened, turning his voice down to a whisper, “Don’t say that! I’m not in love, I’m just…just, shit, I’m just—”

“Just really whipped by her, trust me we alllll know, but hey, if you want to play the long excruciating game before you finally see it through, then by all means go ahead, but the day you two finally stop dancing around these feelings will be the best day in my—”

“Steve, do you think these will do?” Your voice came barreling into the living room and his hand clasped over the receiver of the phone, cutting your voice off from Robin's side.

Your hair was wrapped up in a towel and you were dressed in some baggy sleep shorts and a tank top to match. You held a pair of gray sweats in your hands, along with a dark blue towel folded right beneath it.

Steve removed his hand from the phone, “Uh shoot, Robin, hold on,” he then placed the phone down, standing up and taking the pants from you.

He unfolded it, checking it out before nodding, “Yeah, these are fine. Thanks.”

You clapped your hand together cheerfully, “Okay, great! Sorry, I threw out all of my ex’s old stuff that he left, but you probably wouldn’t want to wear anything that douche owned, anyway.”

He nodded and watched as you gestured back to the bathroom.

“I left a new toothbrush in the bathroom by the way. And you can use my shampoo and body wash, I don’t mind! But you’ll probably smell like a florist by the time you get out, so just beware.”

Steve grinned, shrugging his shoulders, “Nothing I’d rather smell like — oh! Robin’s still on the phone by the way.” He looked down at the device, slight static that could be heard as you nodded.

“Can I talk to her for a bit?” You asked, walking over to take his spot on the couch.

He nodded and tucked the items under his arm as he began walking backwards towards the bathroom, “Tell her I said goodnight.”

“Will do.” You saluted, taking his previous spot on the couch as he spun around and headed into the bathroom.

“Robs?” You picked up the phone, bringing it to your ear.

“My favorite person in the entire world, hi! Sorry the rest of us couldn’t make it tonight. It was a whole thing with half the kids running late, Eddie not driving fast enough, then the road closed. Total chaos, but we’ll make it to the next one for sure!”

Her voice bursted with energy, excitement, and sincerity despite the late hour of the night, but you wouldn’t expect anything less from her. For some reason, she was always energized and ready to go, something you secretly wished you had too.

You giggled, shaking your head with a fond smile on your face, “Don’t even worry about it, I totally understand! And if it makes you guys feel better, it means a lot that you guys even remembered to come in the first place… it means a lot — more than you’ll ever know.”

“Stop! Don’t get all sappy on me because I don’t know if I’ll be able to take it without crying!” Robin warned with a sense of warmth laced in her comical tone.

You giggled again, playing off her teasing, “No, don’t you dare cry! You can’t cry when I’m not there to hug you and make it all better.”

She sighed dramatically, “Fine! I’m saving my tears for when you’re here to hold me and bless me with a homemade dessert.”

“Good, let’s keep it that way. I really missed you guys tonight.” You confessed, resting your head back on the couch as you could hear her apologetic sigh on the other side.

“We did too, but Steve told me you guys went out for dinner and he even danced with you?”

You hummed contentedly, “Yeah, he asked me to dance and it was great… the food and the dancing, duh.”

“Did he step on your toes?” She couldn’t resist taunting, knowing Steve wasn’t the best at footwork and probably skimped out on the deets of how he definitely stepped on your toes.

You laughed heartily and shook your head despite her not being able to see you, “God no, but I’m pretty sure I kinda scuffed up his Nikes.”

“He’s got a few more pairs at home. He’ll live.” She quipped, making the both of you laugh before she continued.

“Sooo did anything happen? Yenno besides dancing? Kissing perhaps?” Her voice was low and teasing, probing for more juicy details of the night.

Your eyes widened, feeling a slight blush creeping on your cheeks not wanting for Steve to stumble out on a conversation like this.

You cupped your hand over the receiver, eyes glued to the hallway to make sure he wasn’t going to come out of the bathroom anytime soon as you whispered.

“Jesus, no! W-we just dance and… sorta held hands while doing so but—”

Robin cheerfully interjected, happy that things were finally getting a move on with you and Steve, “Progress. We love to see it!”

“I thought we agreed on friends—” You started, before she quickly cut you off again and dismissed the thought of you and Steve just being friends.

“Yeah, whatever, be delusional and blind if you want. Just don’t act so surprised when the day finally comes when you both wake up and get together already.”

“You know, you’re so lucky that I love you.” You sighed half heartedly, half thankful and half terrified of her friendly meddling.

She gasped dramatically, holding a hand over her heart, “We’re already in the “I love you” stage? This is the fastest I’ve moved with a girl who isn’t even my girlfriend.”

“Well, consider me the first to say it after a few weeks, because it’s true. I love you… and all of your delusions.” You declared proudly, truly feeling that Robin was your platonic soulmate that you had been searching for since forever.

“I’m honored and I love you too! Speaking of “I love you’s”, do you love me enough to let me and the gal pals take a visit to Roane tomorrow?”

You thought for a minute, shrugging to yourself as you didn’t have much going on and it would be nice to have a girl’s day. After all, Max and El had been talking about wanting to explore Roane, and Nancy and Robs just wanted more quality time with you.

“Yeah, that’s fine, but I don’t have anything baked or prepared, but I can probably whip somethi—”

“Nancy and I got it covered! Just be up and ready. Let’s saaaayy around ten?” She assured you, clearly excited and ready for the visit.

“Okay, sounds like a plan, but I should probably go now. I still have to set up Steve’s bed for tonight, which is the couch—” you explained, ready to say your goodnights to her before being cut off again.

“You could always let him sleep in your bed?” she teased, earning a chuckle and eye roll from you.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m hanging up! Goodnight and I love you again.”

There were kissy sounds on her end, making you giggle before she spoke,“Night Night! Don’t forget protection and I’ll see you tomorrow…Oh! and tell Steve I said don’t let the bedbugs bite!”

“Night, Robs!” You said one last time before ending the call and looking forward to actually seeing her in person tomorrow along with the other gals.

Heading towards the small storage closet that housed plenty of household items, you grabbed a few things Steve would need for the night. An extra throw pillow and two blankets, a thicker one to keep him warm, and a thinner one to layer over the top if it got colder during the night.

You removed the decorative pillows that took up space on the already cramped couch, hoping it would magically make the space bigger to fit him. You fluffed up the throw pillow to the best of your ability, not wanting him to catch a cramp in his neck from the uncomfortable sleeping position. Not bothering too much with the blankets, you left them folded on the end of the couch, letting him decide how he wanted his makeshift bed to be for the night.

Still, even with the useless pillows thrown to the floor, the couch itself still looked too small for Steve. He was taller than you and the couch just barely housed your body when you laid straight on it. Though most times you would have to curl yourself into a ball to not feel so cramped.

Now you were really regretting just getting the damn couch for the looks rather than the spaciousness, but you had no idea years ago that a nearly 6 foot guy would be staying over the night. You were debating on just convincing Steve to take your room, knowing he’d have a much better night’s rest on your bed, so much so that you hadn’t realized that the bathroom door had creaked open.

“Why are you looking at your couch like that?” Steve’s amused voice broke through your anxious thoughts.

Turning your head over your shoulder, you were met with the sigh of Steve Harrington clad in only the gray sweatpants you had lent him. The top half of his body was exposed to your eyes and the four walls of the apartment that would most definitely never forget the sight.

“Umm, I uh, sorry… what did you say?” You stammered, feeling your cheeks turn red with embarrassment.

You were sure you looked like a tomato, eyes tightly shutting and trying to erase the image of him shirtless so you could stop acting like such a schoolgirl, however the freckles that sat across his skin were engrained in your mind — never could be wiped out.

He chuckled, arms instinctively wrapping across his chest to conceal bits of him, as if that would make it less awkward than it already was.

“It’s cute…” he remarked casually, brushing over your original question.

You opened your eyes slowly, a confused look plastered on your face because while you were totally distracted by his body, you knew for a fact he didn’t say anything about something being cute.

“Huh?”

He shrugged his shoulders, jutting his chin in the air towards you, “When you get all blushly.”

You gulped, running your hand over your neck and collarbones, feeling the heat radiating off your body.

“I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare, but you were kinda just standing right there and I didn’t expect to see you looking like that.” You paused, watching his brow raise jokingly before you backtracked and stumbled upon more word salad.

“Wait no, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean like that, in a bad way, but I meant like that in a ‘holy crap, I didn’t know Steve had so many moles and freckles’ kinda way.”

Steve smiled, biting back for it to cover his entire face, knowing it would make you even more blushier and though he found it endearing he didn’t want to tease you for it.

“They are kinda everywhere, huh?” He settled, looking down at his arms and inspecting the beauty marks that covered the expanse of it.

You nodded, resisting the urge to count how many he had alone on his left shoulder alone, and the hair that sprawled over his chest, “Y-yeah, everywhere.”

Steve didn’t let a second of silence go to waste, referring back to the original question he had asked you.

“I asked you why you were looking at the couch that way.”

Turning your head back at it, you gestured towards the length of the couch, sighing heavily before letting out a weak laugh.

“There’s no way this is going to be comfortable for you, Steve. You’re like a tall giant and when I nap on here, I curl myself up like a worm in order to fit on it.”

He tsked, giving you a shake of his head before going around you and plopping stomach down onto the couch. Steve tries his best to look comfortable, though you can’t mistake the way he’s bending his knees and squeezing his shoulders in to fit on the piece of furniture.

You giggled, settling on the floor and crossing your legs as you sat within eyesight of him. Your hand moved up to your head, removing the towel from your hair as you squeezed the fabric between your ends to soak up the remaining water as he watched.

“Steve, just take my bed tonight, please?”

He closes his eyes, humming out a “Nuh uh.”

“You’re going to wake up with horrible back pain tomorrow.” You warned voice lifting to something that was almost chiding.

Yet he remained rigid, peeking his eyes open and shaking his head against the cushions, “I’m not taking your bed and if it makes you feel better I’ve slept on worse. Mike Wheeler’s dusty basement carpet, for example.”

You scrunched your face up in disgust, nose instantly sniffling at the thought as Steve chuckled and maneuvered his palm under his chin to watch you.

“I’d probably have a sneezing fit.” You mumbled under your breath.

He nodded, “I practically sneezed myself to sleep that night, but hey, it was better than being home with my parents there.”

You grimaced, bunching your damp towel in your lap as you played with the fabric, wondering if you could ask him a question about his personal life. Sure, you had shared things with him, but you never wanted him to feel like he owed you part of his life just because you did.

Still you asked with caution and softness, “Sorry, if this is crossing a line, but… do you know when your parents get back in town or do they just show up unannounced?”

He gave you a reassuring smile, swiping away the hesitance on your face that was scared you were going too far. And while Steve had told you a bit about his tumultuous relationship with his parents, you weren’t quite sure if he would be open to talking about it more – his perspective and everything.

Usually he wasn’t, but with you he felt like he could.

“Usually I can guess when they’re leaving and coming home. My dad has a lot of business trips and conferences during the summer. They host them at fancy hotels and resorts and my mom likes mingling with the other wives that go.”

He explained and you nod, bringing your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on the caps as you continue to listen.

“Yeah, so, in the summer they’re gone for like a week, then they come home for a few days. But during the day my dad is at the office and my mom hangs out with her lady friends so I can usually avoid them, but it’s harder to do at night… y’know ‘cause where else is my mom and dad going to sleep right?”

He laughed uncomfortably, trying to make a joke out of it, which you totally understood because of the stipulations of him living under his parents’ roof and all, but still you knew that his home didn’t feel like home to him — at least not when his parents were there.

“And that’s why you prefer sleeping in Mike’s prehistoric basement, to avoid seeing them.” You speculated, but more so landed on the dot with.

He nodded, a tightlipped smile at how easily you saw through it and how you probably understood why he jumped at the offer at staying at your place tonight rather than going home and having to deal with running into his mom and dad.

Steve felt like, for the first time, he could go on and on about him, not terrified of making his family sound horrible, knowing it was embarrassing enough, but with you he knew you came with no judgment.

“I know it sounds crazy. Like why I can’t just suck it up and face them, but it’s so weird and dehumanizing. I can just tell that they’re judging me. I’m the only son they have and here I am still selling tapes at Family Video while my dad manages his own firm–”

“But you’re happy, right?” You didn’t mean to cut him off so suddenly, but you knew that this was the most important question of them all.

He furrowed his brows, staring at you confused before spitting out an answer, “Happy? I mean…it’s kinda difficult always trying to evade my parents, but it does kinda feel like I’m a secret agent sneaking into a Russian base trying to get my uniform at seven in the—”

You couldn’t help but interject again with a giggle, “I meant happy working at Family Video. You’re happy there, right?”

His smile grew wider despite misinterpreting your question for the second time around, but still you didn’t grow irate with him, just patient and more than happy to ask again and that alone made him feel no judgment and embarrassment alone.

“Oh! Well yeah, I guess at first it was a little boring, but after Robin and I started to get the groove of it, now it just feels like we’re hanging out and doing chores to pass time. And we get to watch movies and eat in the backroom snack bar.”

You smiled, lifting your shoulders up and letting them relax back down, happy with the sight of Steve in front of you. Sure, you knew that his parents were really hard on him, but he was the person who had to face it every day. Yet seeing him talk about how happy he was working with his best friend, that made up for a piece of the sadness that you could still tell was gnawing at him.

You weren’t sure if you could solve it, and you were sure that you couldn’t, but you could at least make it better for him.

“So who cares what your parents think? You’re happy and it’s working out for you, so what’s the big deal? Is daddy mad that his son doesn’t want to carry on his business legacy?”

Steve laughed, a genuine laugh that he half stifled into the pillow before settling his cheek on it and shaking his head with a smug smirk.

“Oh, he’d jump for joy the day I put on a suit and walk out the house with a briefcase up my ass.”

There was laughter in the air again, a sort of connection that was made purely off of the both of you opening up about something so deep and personal. In the diner it was him comforting you and here in your living room it was you being there for him in a way that no one else could.

It’s not that he didn’t want to open up to Robin or the rest of his friends about it, and truth be told they already knew. They knew that Steve had a rocky relationship with his parents, and Steve never hid it, but he did stray away from talking about it because why would he need to in the first place?

After all he had friends, true friends that cared about him the way that he wished his parents did, and he cared about them the way he always wanted to be appreciated for. Not tolerated just because his mom and dad were purely his blood, but celebrated because he found people who loved him in a way he didn’t think was possible.

But enough was enough for Steve. There was only so much he could hold in and after years of suppressing it and trying to act like it didn’t phase him the way it did when he was a teenager, it was now time to confront it and let it pass here…with you.

You settled from your laughter, slowly watching as Steve did the same, wrapping his arms over the pillow and propping his head up slightly supporting his chin.

You purse your lips, your fingers drawing circles on your knee as you spoke to him, “I know what it’s like. Unsupportive people and whatever, but you gotta just stick to it and they’ll back off eventually…or you can leave. Start a new chapter without them.”

He seemed to ponder your words for a second before replying, “Is that what you did?”

With a knowing smile, you shrugged, “Yeah, I guess you could call packing up and leaving without telling anyone would count.”

“That sounds like the dream.” He sighed, closing his eyes at the thought of packing up and running away to start his life without his parents in his.

You could tell he was thinking of it, dreaming up the thought of a life where he could live it the way he pleased without trying to please his mom and dad. You used to do the same thing, waiting for the day to finally get the courage to live your life and dreams unapologetically, without the weight of your ex that would only make you feel less than.

Instinctively, your hand reached out and softly tapped on his hand, prompting him to open his eyes and stare at yours resting upon his before meeting your eyes.

“It’s really nice, and hey, if you ever need a place to stay, you’re always welcomed here. I just can’t promise a comfier couch next time, but I can assure you I vacuum and mop the floors weekly.” You offered graciously.

“Thanks, that’s really nice of you.” Steve replied, the gratitude and sincerity evident in his voice.

Your thumb moved over his knuckles warmly, feeling the pulse point of his vein before retracting, “Of course, and thanks for today. Showing up and giving me a ride. It really means a lot.”

Part of Steve wished you kept your hand there, knowing it was the thing that was keeping him grounded here with you, like a promise that you would keep forever. Instead, he settled for a smile, maneuvering his body and sitting upright to see you clearly.

“Yeah, no problem. I had a blast, and I’d love to come to the next one, whenever that might be. I’ll make sure everyone is on time this time around.”

You grinned, standing up and throwing your damp towel over your shoulder, “I’ll let you turn in for the night, and please, don’t hesitate to wake me up before you leave.”

“And ruin your beauty sleep?” He joked, standing up and holding his arms out towards you.

You giggled, shaking your head as you walked into the frame nuzzling your face into his warm chest and feeling his warmth envelope you. His bareness left little imagination to your sense of feeling, but just as you suspected, his skin was soft and the fuzz on his chest tickled your neck in a comforting way that you didn’t want to shake off.

Taking a deep breath of him in, and feeling his arms tighten around you, you whispered loud enough for him to hear, “Nighty night, Steve.”

“Goodnight, sweet thing.” He replied in a soft murmur, his fingers leaving indents in the small of your back where he hugged you tightly before releasing and letting you go.

You had to find it in you, to finally pull away, giving him one around smile before you turned on your heel and headed towards your bedroom. The slight ruffling of the blankets and his body moving against the cushions as background noise on your short walk to the door before you took one last glance back and saw him smile at you, fingers ready to pull on the lampshade to turn the place dim.

Your fingers twiddled at him, before you finally shut your door, and only then did you hear the click of the lamp, darkening the rest of the apartment as you threw your towel into the hamper.

Slipping beneath your covers and turning to tuck your face into your pillow is where you finally let out a squeal – one that you had been holding back for the entire night.

Steve had made you feel things, maybe things not so foreign because after all crushes were a normal part of life, but he made you feel a kind of way where the light bulb in your head lit up and stayed on when you were around him. Almost like a constant realization that he was always so good – good to you and good to everyone else in his life.

He never wanted or asked you to change, but just wanted you to see things through in a way that would benefit you for the better. You never knew what this was like, accustomed to feeling like you had to shapeshift into being something that was pleasing for men, yet here you were not being asked for that by Steve. Just being asked to be nicer to yourself, because he knew you were worthy and capable of it.

Something in you was holding on to each and every single one of his words, hoping that he meant it in a way that was more. More than friends. More than everything that you believed you two were just destined to be.

A sweet thing. Something so sweet that only you wanted with him, yet didn’t know if you could have. A kind of sweetness that could only be dreamt up in your wildest dreams.

And so dream you did, of the sweet things you and Steve could be in another world.

A word where you and him would switch off weekends at each other’s homes.

A world where you would stop in at Family Video just because you missed him.

A world where you could pick up the phone and hear his voice on the other line because he wanted to see what you were doing.

A world where you two would take turns washing dishes and drying.

A world where you could sit in your living room or a half empty diner and just talk without being afraid.

A world where it was just you two against whatever obstacle that you both were facing.

A sweet, sweet, sweet world where it was you and Steve, hand in hand, chest to chest, lips to—

“Wakey wakey, gorgeous! You forgot to set your alarm, didn't you?”

Your eyes snapped out, instantly letting out a shout as you saw Robin hover above you with your alarm clock in her hands. She flinched, stepping back and giving you room to breathe as you sat up and caught your breath.

“Robin, what the hell! How did you even get in here…and what time is it?” You gathered your comforter closer to your chest, closing your eyes and sighing, not believing this was real.

She shrugged her shoulders, placing your alarm clock back on the bedside table before plopping back first at the end of your bed and turned her head towards you.

“Max apparently has a talent for picking locks, and it’s almost a quarter to ten. We were going to just wait outside until you woke up, but I almost had a heatstroke out there so breaking and entering it was.”

Despite the suddenness of it all, you couldn’t help but close your eyes and let out a laugh as you fell back into your pillows. You definitely forgot to set your alarm last night and the last thing you wanted was your friends who drove all the way here to be waiting outside in the hot Indiana heat.

You felt Robin crawl up the space and settle beside you, her hands resting on the pillow where she laid her head as she smiled at you cheekily, “Not mad are you?”

You shook your head and bopped her nose before she crinkled it, “Nope! But you do owe me by making my bed.”

She groaned, stuffing her face in the pillows as you got up and stretched your arms out wide feeling the tension release in your limbs as you walked out of your room and headed to the living room to greet everyone else while Robin’s groans died down.

Max and El, sat on your couch flipping through comics. The blankets that Steve had used the night before neatly folded and placed on the arm of the furniture. Meanwhile, Nancy moved across the kitchen table setting out plates and utensils keeping to herself and knowing where everything was it seemed.

“Morning, pretty ladies.” You greeted, watched their eyes fall on your less than sleepy and surprised state.

El popped up from the couch first, easily clinging to your side with a hug, “Good morning! Sorry we had to break in, but Robin was dehydrated.”

You grinned, draping your arms around her and hugging her warmly before she pulled away, “We can’t have our dear Robin dying of dehydration can we?”

“Definitely not, especially not before she gets the inside scoop on you and Steve’s date last night.” Max chimed in, giving you a side hug as you rolled your eyes playfully and pushed her shoulder gently.

“It was not a date!” You retorted making your way to the kitchen to greet Nance who was smiling to herself as she still set the table.

You wrapped your arms around her shoulders, bringing her to a stop as she threw her head back and hugged you tightly, “Sorry about breaking and entering… but Robin and I brought some breakfast so I hope it helps!”

You looked over her shoulder, seeing the take out boxes of pancakes, link sausages, toast, and other goodies that they had picked up from a place in Hawkins.

“This totally makes up for it, and I’ll just give you guys a copy of my key. That way, no more breaking and entering and then you guys can bring me breakfast forever!”

“Sounds like a better idea than picking the lock every time,” she quipped pulling away from the hug, “do you have any orange juice, by chance?”

“Yeah, I’ll grab it, no worries,” You said heading towards the fridge and going to open it, before you noticed the bright yellow post-it that stuck to the appliance.

Messy and rushed handwriting filled the small square and your fingers ripped it off, reading it to yourself…

Thanks again for letting me spend the night, it means a lot! Didn’t want to leave before you got up, but I promised Eddie I’d help him and his uncle Wayne with something at their trailer.

Anyway, I hope you don’t mind that I started the washer with the pair of sweats you lent me and I left the top that you forgot at my place folded on the dryer. I also woke up early and got a honey rose latte, and you were right, it tastes heavenly. I asked them to make yours with almond milk and no ice, and I left it on the second shelf in the fridge. Managed to snag a dozen of those cronuts and I left them in the microwave to keep them warm. Hope you don’t mind that I took the blueberry one.

Enjoy, and I hope we see each other soon, sweetheart.

- Steve <3

There was a wide smile on your face, stupidly reading his words over and over again and hyper-fixating on him remembering your milk of choice and the tiny crooked heart drawn next to his name.

Steve Harrington didn't seem real at all, someone that you could only think up to be that perfect and attentive to small details. And no guy would ever go as far as this for you, but there you were opening the fridge to see your favorite latte sitting on the second shelf of your fridge and when you turned to look at the microwave, you could see through the transparent glass, the bakery box that held the delectable treats in.

You probably looked just as silly, frozen in your kitchen staring at a piece of paper and smiling to yourself like a maniac. It was only a few more seconds until Robin came sliding in next to you, creeping over your shoulder.

“Oooo, did the lover boy leave a note!” Robin wiggled her brows, attempting to peek at the note before you quickly clutched it to your chest for safe keeping.

You blushed, and turned on your heel, grabbing the orange juice and your drink and placing it on the table, “That is a secret that will not be revealed!”

“He did!” The younger girls shouted from the couch as you blushed and shook your head

“I’m going to go brush my teeth and then I’ll be out!” You called out, walking back to your room with the note still in the palm of your hand.

“Then you’re going to spill the date details!” Robin shouted, pouring orange juice into the glasses.

You could hear Nancy jokingly scolding Robin, “Give her a break, will you?”

Quickly, you slipped into your quaint laundry room on the other side of the hallway where the slight rumbling from the washing machine was beginning to slow down. There was your white eyelet top that you had worn and left behind the first time at Steve’s place sitting folded on the washer with another note placed on the top of it.

Forgot to give this to you the last time I was here. I read the label and the machine washed it in cold water then put it in the dryer on low. Hope I didn’t ruin it or anything!

- Steve :)

You picked up the garment, assessing it and seeing that the stain was fully gone and instead it was perfectly clean and now reeking of everything, Steve. The sandalwood, mint, freshness, and warmth — everything him. The scent filling your senses and going back to the hug you two shared last night, wishing it were his arms wrapped around you again.

Now you definitely knew what you were going to be wearing today and who was going to be running through your mind — even if this was your town and your place, he had already left a mark too big and permanent for you to erase.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: chapter two is finally here!!! originally this chapter was supposed to be longer but for organization and trying to avoid lag purposes, i decided to shorten it a bit and save the next major scene for the next chapter! again, i have to say a big big big thank you to my bestie and ultimate favorite person everrrrr...MISS EFFIE!!! she's amazing and she is constantly encouraging me to write and helping me with proofreading and setting up the storylines itself! i love her so so so much (I LOVE YOU EFFIE BABYYYYY)!!!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @scoopshxrrington @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss

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anthropologist-on-the-loose · 1 year

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What is your stance on writing ethnographies involving illegal activites, in particular squatters and city squats? i have a great interest in them yet i cant help but think no paper can ever be written if my findings are 90% incriminating stuff. ofc i can go the no name no address but that is definitely not enough.

Oh I love this question. I think ethnographies involving illegal activities are fantastic and fascinating and important; how do people on the fringes or who are disenfranchised from mainstream society go about their lives? Why are they disenfranchised, and what kind of communities do they form? Why are their activities illegal? Should they be decriminalized? How would decriminalization affect individuals in these communities? And a whole host of other questions. I've seen some great ethnographic pieces involving less-than-legal activities so they're definitely possible (in fact I just read an anthropological article about common resources that had a whole section on squatting, DM me and I can send a PDF). The question is how to go about it, and how reasonable it would be to ethically make an ethnography about a specific community.

Like you said, there's some difficult ethics involved, the biggest one being the potential to put your ethnographic cooperators at risk of harm (legal or otherwise). We've all read those types of journalistic ethnographies where someone interviews a few individuals for an article titled something like, "This is what it's like to be a professional sex worker" or "A former drug addict talks about the world of drug deals", but creating a full-blown ethnography has a higher chance of disrupting a whole community than a conversation with a single individual.

There's a few key things to keep in mind when doing ethnographic work with illegal communities. The first and most important part of any ethnography is to include the people you're working with in all parts of the process. There's been a movement to make anthropological work in general a cooperative endeavor with groups of people rather than about groups of people.*

One of the best ways to ensure the safety of ethnographic participants is quite simply to ask them how to best maintain their safety. People who are involved in illicit activities or communities usually already know the best ways to stay safe, and they are almost certainly going to know better than an outside researcher. Maybe anonymity is enough, maybe it's not. Discuss these things with participants, ask them what would or would not be comfortable with being public knowledge. Let people know that not everything needs to be in the final product, and that they have a say in how it turns out.

Of course, as the researcher you also have to be aware of potential issues and ensure that they are talked about. Sometimes the opinion of what is safe from one individual does not reflect the opinions of the broader community, and it is important to take that into account. There's also a degree of using your own best judgement about what kind of information it is ethical to publish; the same is true for any scientific field.

Another important aspect is asking yourself is what kind of information you need to focus on a particular research question, and how that specific information might incriminate people. Let's use your topic of squatters as an example. You could probably include discussions of peoples' opinions on squatting and some of their lived realities without incriminating anyone. Someone sharing that they believe housing should be free, or how they ended up in their particular situation would probably be fine. Including which neighborhoods are the best for squatting would probably be dangerous unless that's an already widely known fact in that city. Maybe you can include most of someone's story, but have to exclude bits where they talk about visiting a specific nearby spot. There's lots of things that can be done to increase anonymity while still sharing meaningful information. Oftentimes, you won't know exactly how it will until you jump in.

I got a bit rambly and more incoherent towards the end there, but to summarize: I think ethnographies involving illegal activities are great and can be done ethically, keeping in mind that it might take more effort (and editing) to ensure the safety of all participants and their communities.

*A bit of probably unnecessary history of anthropology, but anthropology has a long and bad history of taking some of the worst parts of Western scientific thought and applying it to the study of people - particularly the faulty idea of "objectivity". The idea was that people can't view themselves objectively because they are too enmeshed in their own culture to be able to observe it, so we needed "unbiased" Western-trained scientists to be able to identify the true meanings behind a culture's idiosyncrasies. Obviously the idea that Western research academics are unbiased is utter bullshit, but the assumption that only an outsider can view a culture objectively has unfortunately stuck around. A huge problem that arises from this paternalistic mindset is the notion that academics and outside authorities know what is best for a community rather than listening to the people who are part of that community.

#this got very long and i'm not sorry #i'm also not double checking it or reading it over so their might be issues with the writing but meh whatever #anon #ask #in which i say things #the anthro life #anthropology #ethnography

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szampers · 2 days

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very nice to see an active szpd-focused blog that is not...for lack of a better term...Edgy. many schizoid blogs i've come across really play up the whole "void" aesthetic+while i'm sure it's true+meaningful for them, i don't relate to it+am not interested in the theatrics of it at all. you're doing good work by creating a space dedicated to exploring+discussing szpd+related concepts without the pervasive nihilistic trappings that have turned me off from most others. i want to discuss living with szpd, not surrendering to it! salute o7

(feel free not to answer this publicly/at all if it comes off as needlessly dismissive to that genre of blog. i can't tell if i'm being "mean," and i can't not mention it, because not mentioning it would entirely miss what i appreciate so much about this blog)

Hi I'll use this ask as an opportunity to tell a bit more about this blog and other stuff !!

I run this blog partly for the sake of others. Anything I share here is not only done as a way to voice my thoughts, but also in hopes that someone would find something they can relate to, or even comfort as i have after discovering there are people dealing with Very Similar Situations which i know as The Szpd. for the longest time i never had any points of comparison for myself while knowing the average person likely wouldn’t impose total isolation and a chronic vow of silence on themselves among other average person things. It was a state of knowing something was off but never being able to put a finger on what exactly. I felt szpd was already as hidden as it is so I figured someone has to try and keep the awareness going. This way I'm also putting all these thoughts to good use.

Your ask pretty much validates the reason why I created this blog!! thank you it means a lot to read this.

And whether someone chooses to focus more negatively or positively on szpd, they’re all valid! Since szpd isn’t known for its pretty sides as with all other pd’s and conditions, that does make it very easy to be fixated on the nasty parts, especially if all it does is making your life miserable. if this has brought me any kind of joy then I wouldn't notice. I'd say the main danger is the risk of being consumed by the misery and getting trapped in a vicious circle.

But yeah. it would be very, very strange if you were to think positively of things like this. I suppose it's one way to tell if you're somehow faking it. The realistic thing to do is to come to good terms with it. Hard, but possible enough.

I have seen another post calling out the focus mainly placed on negativity which I've yet to reblog. They phrased it really well in a blunt way, it's arguably one of the most motivating szpd post I've read. Being trapped in narrow sighted ways of thinking isn't something I want even though nothing about this is easy. This is why I consciously try not to let my writing become full blown complaints or be saturated with pain and misery, while it's very easy to indulge myself into such things. I keep in mind to make my writing productive in some way or another. I'm pretty awful at this in my own journal but it works much better if people could be reading!! being held accountable this way which is pretty cool.

#if anything sticks out weirdly that is because I've written most of this at the most stressful place on earth #i didn't really expect the blog to take off this fast but i won't complain!!#schizoid #szpd #schizoud personality disorder #actuallyschizoid #asks #rambling

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primusfortuna · 4 months

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Just Hangout Lines ⟡ Merry Snow That Brings Tenderness

Just

Start Hangout “Sorry to keep you waiting!! I ran into a most wonderful dog over there, who let me pet its fur for a little while...!”

“It’s freezing cold out, but that just adds another touch of beauty to today. I promise to give you a revolutionary outing!”

“I don’t have unlimited time getting to go out with you like this. I came up with a thorough plan to make the most of it.”

About Snow “Snowy days are very beautiful! But at the same time, they’re so cold... Do you have any suggestions for spending them?”

Choice: Go outside!

“Hehe, that’s no surprise from a go-getter like you. It does sound pretty fun... walking side-by-side, crunching the snow beneath our feet.” “It seems that 'skating' is very popular this time of year. I hear it’s rather thrilling, so should we hold hands to avoid any falls?” “Wanting to enjoy everything to the fullest is a wonderful thing, but let’s pace ourselves and call it a day. ...See, your cheeks are freezing!”

Choice: Nothing better than staying warm in your room!

“Relaxing while watching the snowy wonderland outside your window... That might be the ideal way to spend time for a busy person like you.” “Ha! What do you say about eating cold treats from the warmth of your room? I think that’s a revolutionary idea, if I say so myself...!” “Then why don’t we coop ourselves inside next? It won’t be a very revolutionary time, but a long, comfortable talk with you ought to be fun.”

About Books “Yes, I like books. I can read the writing of humans, so sometimes I even read stories to Caprice-kun.”

Choice: I’d love for you to read to me some time.

“Of course, I’d be thrilled to read for you! I’ll have to be extra careful to pick out a book I think you’ll enjoy.” “Come bring me any requests you have! I’d like to make the time as meaningful as possible for you.” “Hehe, why don’t we take the chance to read before you go to sleep? I’ll prepare a bedtime story to bring you sweet dreams.”

Choice: What books do you recommend?

“My highest recommendation would undoubtedly be... "The Great Illustrated Guide to Fluffy Things"! I’m absolutely certain it will captivate you too!” “There’s no shortage of revolutionaries whose lives could rival a novel... I’ll lend you their history books. You must let me put together a session to hear your thoughts!” “I have all kinds, but I’d also like to hear your recommendations and books you have memories attached to. Hehe, I’m very curious about you.”

Initiate Physical Contact “...Oh? You look ready for action... What’s the matter? Something revolutionary you’d like to discuss?”

Ask to see his horns “Hehe, I have nice horns, don’t I? I don’t mind if you want to come closer. Stare or touch as much as you like.”

Throw a snowball “...You got me, Emma-kun! Prepare for my counterattack——is what I would say, but I could never throw a cold snowball at you.”

End Hangout “I got to pet a dog, and share a leisurely, one-on-one talk with you! Oh, this was an excellent day.”

“Haha... I planned to make this a revolutionary outing and let you have all the fun, but I ended up enjoying every moment.”

“Even though it wasn’t in our plans, could we stop by that bookstore before we head back? ...I’d like to enjoy my time with you just a while longer.”

#i wasn't able to pull him so im coping with tls </3 #he's too cute 🥺💓#ymkr tl #yumekuro #yumekuro translations #merry snow that brings tenderness #just #hangouts

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thesherrinfordfacility · 9 months

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hi! i love reading your thoughts because they're often so different from my own, but i wanted to ask you something about crowley and the way the abuses he's suffered at heaven/hell's hands have manifested in him. specifically, in his avoidance/tendency to flee as a means of protecting himself & aziraphale. i think it's rather unkind of fandom to just jot that all down to cowardice and to constantly criticize him for "running", esp when in never actually follows through on those threats. (part 1)

good morning nonnie!!!✨

sure thing, more than happy to discuss and at least put down my own thoughts! first thing im going to say is that whilst this is a recurrent theme throughout the whole show, ep6 feels like the pinnacle of everything re: crowley's trauma, and as i said to someone else recently, the reason why i find the Feral Domestic™ so delicious is because it is so well written. these are two characters that are having their own one-sided conversations, even if the dialogue matches up and fits coherently; they chronically misunderstand each other, are both crumbling under the things not being said, and each time you watch it, you can see things from the other's perspective and think that they are in the right. suffice to say, to my mind, there isn't necessarily any right way to interpret it, and all interpretations are valid!!!

let's talk crowley; i mean, you're right - it's not cowardice by the definition of the word. crowley doesn't lack bravery, but the way he manifests that bravery is very different to aziraphale's. i feel in this particular dilemma, personally, aziraphale had the right of it (fighting for change, however it may have come across to crowley, and however naive) - mainly out of the projection that i think it's the logical, most meritable action to take, if successful would actually mean they can be potentially be together in peace, and i would probably have done the same thing. now, we can surmise that that's not at all how it'll go down, and it certainly doesn't mean at all that crowley's reaction is wrong.

i do feel that sometimes the fandom does gloss over crowley's more... problematic... tendencies, and justify it by his trauma. his actions borne out of that trauma are understandable, they hold water, but they're not excusable. again, personal interpretation, but i can't rationalise some of crowley's actions out of anything than avoidance and a maelstrom of harmful, emotional internalisation - manipulating aziraphale/tempting him to kill adam/warlock, keeping key information from aziraphale especially that directly affects aziraphale, his saviour complex going too far and not only robbing aziraphale of some agency by doing so but it resulting in aziraphale believing it's necessary to make crowley happy, his superiority complex (aziraphale has one too, i will add), his habits of putting aziraphale down during stress/desperation... again, we can trace these all back to elements of his trauma, but it doesn't justify them.

that to me is a kind of 'running away'; it isn't that he's a coward and won't face up to the trauma in any meaningful way - it's not a question of a lack of bravery - but that he's so avoidant of examining that part of himself and his history that it holds him back from healing, and in doing so, i think, he possibly expects and anticipates aziraphale to live in that pain with him. maybe because aziraphale is a comfort to it, a balm that lessens the sting? maybe because he needs something to make him feel better about himself? idk, but whilst all things i can empathise with, one of the first things i saw in that scene is that crowley seems to think aziraphale should have remained in that inertia with him, kept the status quo, run away together. and when it turns out aziraphale truly belongs outside of that pain and doesn't want to live in it... well, put very over-simply, crowley couldn't handle it.

crowley is not at all wrong for running from his trauma. it was and is, by all inference of the material we have so far, incredibly painful, and possibly even shameful and humiliating and lonely. but in the same way that humans who don't reckon with their trauma are not lesser for not dealing with theirs by avoiding reconciling with it, it doesn't fix anything to do so. fix is the wrong word actually - it doesn't help at all to keep being in that pain. and it will usually result in it hurting those around you too, those that you love and love you in return. and bearing in mind - whilst aziraphale is smart enough to definitely know at least the general impact the fall had, and how heaven had treated/harmed crowley in the events that followed, crowley's never actually told aziraphale any of it (as far as we're aware). he even downplayed it to aziraphale - "sauntered vaguely downwards"... aziraphale is smart, but he is likely to take crowley's word at face value in this respect.

ultimately you are completely correct; it is not at all fair for anyone, aziraphale included, to expect crowley to return to the source of his pain. we know that, we know that the suggestion of returning, of being restored, must be inconceivable to him. but does aziraphale know that? how can he possibly know the full depth of why crowley won't return? beyond saying "they're toxic", and "when heaven ends life here on earth, it'll be just as dead as if hell ended it"... both of these reasons for rejecting the offer, bear in mind, are reasons why aziraphale wants to go back - to change it! it's fixable! he can resolve that! but if crowley had said, "i can't go back, it's the source of all pain for me and i want nothing to do with it"... im not entirely certain that aziraphale would have left.

can't also disagree with you that aziraphale isn't manipulative in his own way, because he absolutely is! aziraphale is equally a little shit for it throughout the entire show! but i truly don't think this is the scene where he's trying to be, or even is - i think he truly sees the offer as a way in which crowley could be happy again, create in utter joy like he did in the pre-fall scene, be shown respect and a means of apology for making him fall... it's meant, to me, out of love and devotion to crowley as a person, this good and kind person that he loves, and wants to facilitate in his happiness as aziraphale believes it could be. now we know that that would never be the case, and it's incredibly naive and reductive for aziraphale to assume this... but does aziraphale? it's not an action or offer made out of any superior or malicious intent, imo, but a way that aziraphale can protect crowley and they can be together without needing to run away... something that aziraphale only considered once offered the power to restore him.

i could talk a little more on crowley physically running away, especially how it's depicted in the book vs. show, but i think my answer is likely to get completely unwieldy if i do rn! but hope that maybe goes some way to at least depicting my understanding of what happened... again, i don't think any interpretation is necessarily wrong, and until s3 comes around and these two buffoons actually talk to each other, we won't know for sure!!!✨

#in this house all opinions are valid if you can argue them well enough #good omens #ask #crowley meta #feral domestic/final fifteen meta #s1 meta #s2 meta

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underestimated-heroine · 3 months

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re-evaluated myself and agree with you in retrospect, i am sorry i was an asshole about it. thanks for catching me and standing your ground even though it was unpleasant and I was not receptive.

Hello again. Sorry for the delay in response...I was honestly deliberating how to answer/post your ask. Ultimately decided to handle it how I did your previous one--posting it but making it unrebloggable--because I felt that was most fair (hopefully? please lmk if not). Plus I took some time to articulate my response:

I truly appreciate you re-evaluating yourself and saying this, and accept your apology (insofar as I'm the one to do so). Like I said, I have not been perfect, either. Not too long after October 7th, a mutual of mine was kind enough to DM me & gently call me out on a very harmfully inaccurate post I had not only reblogged, but linked in my pinned post. Subsequently, I went through all the I/P stuff I'd reblogged/posted and realized I needed to do way better. Since then, that's what I've been fumbling to try and to do, though I am well aware I still have a long way to go.

Plenty don't want to hear it (and that's beyond fair imo, because whether or not this is our fault, it's our responsibility) but I think it's inaccurate to deny that avoiding antisemitism in fighting for Palestine has been genuinely difficult for a lot of gentiles throughout this conflict. When white supremacy isn't straight up hijacking the conversation (ex. *cough* J@ckson H*nkle* *cough*) and tricking leftists into amplifying it, it's permeating the groundwater, fundamentally warping the conversation.

The problem is that for the victims of systemic abuse and oppression, the only indicator for trust and safety they have is peoples' actions - and I think you and I can agree that includes reblogging and posting even if some act like that's silly. It's not fair or right to ask people to assume the best intentions from us when we've made mistakes, especially when antisemitism's been a growing problem in our country for the past several years.

idk. I am not trying to lecture or something, just to present my thoughts a bit more clearly, maybe? I struggle with social cues and articulation at times, so I worried about how I came off especially in my first response to you. I am also truly sorry if I was condescending or it seemed like I was attacking you. Emotions have run high through all this, and it's been hard to keep a level head through all the horror, fear, and anger.

I just truly think one of the most impactful, meaningful things we can do in our day-to-day lives to help (yes, even & maybe especially Palestinians) is to make our Jewish neighbors--and Jewish people in general--more safe, which obviously and honestly needed to happen long before October 7th.

Anyways, thanks again for saying this. It gives me comfort and motivation to see another person whose perspective I relate to, admire, and understand making the effort to take accountability and accept nuance like I am. May we both find a way to navigate through this which our future selves can be proud of, and more importantly which does the most good possible for those who are suffering.

#asks #antisemitsm #antisemitism cw #i/p

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friendlyneighborhoodbisexual0 · 1 year

Text

Various Characters on their S.O's Birthday

Roronoa Zoro

What better occasion than one's birthday is there to drink? Not a single one, at least in Zoro's opinion. The buff man isn't the most affectionate lover, until he's drunk. He's an extremely clingy drunk so he remains attached to you the entire day of your birthday. He even insists that y'all take naps together and cuddle. You'll be laid comfortably on his chest as he wraps his strong arms around you and holds you close. Not really a big gift getter, but he'll probably get you some sort of small gift.

Levi Ackerman

Big parties aren't really his thing, he'd rather just celebrate your birthday between the two of you. He doesn't much care for his own birthday, but he does care enough about his significant other's birthday to ensure it goes great! He'll wake his partner up with a cup of tea or coffee (based on their preference!) made exactly to their liking. A soft smile would tug at his lips as he watched his partners. they were just so cute to him. He'd probably even sneak a muffin out of the mess hall, and stick a small candle in it as he wished them a 'Happy Birthday'. Most of the day would probably just be spent doing small things together. Levi would 100% pick small flowers and make a small bouquet for his partner.

Peter Parker

Wholesome boyfriend. Peter definitely spoils his partner on their birthday, what else is there to do?? He'd ensure that the whole day is about his partner and what they want. Peter would definitely do anything his partner wanted to do, not caring what it was. However, he would maybe pout a bit if his partner wanted to go bowling. It was not his strong suit, but he would still appreciate thew time spent with his partner. So many gifts. Honestly he would probably go a bit overboard with the gifts. Peter is the type to remember every little thing his partner would want, and it's very evident during birthdays and holiday seasons.

Vinsmoke Sanji

Of course he cooks his partner an elaborate meal for their birthday! What else could he possibly do?? Well, and elaborate meal cooked specifically for his partner and all the gifts they could possibly want. he's just that type of a guy. He loves how amazed his partner was by the birthday meal and relishes in the compliments that follow. It's never the same thing, a new dish being made each year. Every year he tried to outdo the previous year, and he always succeeded, but the birthday meal did become a birthday feast as he discovered more and more recipes he thought his lover would enjoy.

Yuga Aoyama

As much as Aoyama loves to be spoiled and cherished, he also loves doing the same to his partner. Birthdays are a perfect opportunity to do so. He would do his best to ensure that his partner has the most extravagant day possible and that they enjoy every moment. His favorite thing is to take his partner on a picnic. He'll pack up a basket with various cheeses, breads, crackers, drinks, and other small snacks. The two would rest on a blanket in the park, feeding each other and making small talk. Of course he could take his partner out to any fancy restaurant they choose, but he knew they would always choose the picnic over that. He loved intimate moments like that with his partner, just the two of them together as they celebrated another year of a well lived life.

Izuku Midoriya

Birthdays are taken very seriously by Izuku Midoriya. He wants to ensure that his partner has the best day possible. We all know that this lovely boy would probably shower his partner in gifts. There's no way around it. He'd probably take them to their favorite coffee place for a small, but meaningful birthday lunch. One year he tried making a birthday lunch himself..It hadn't went well and ended with a burnt smell in the kitchen and take out on the way. At least he had given it a shot, but maybe his partner's birthday wasn't the best day to decide if he could cook or not. Nevertheless it made for a funny memory that gets brought up each year. He'll turn a little red as his partner laughs about the incident. He can't even get mad though, the joy on his partner's face was enough to make him think of it in a fond way.

Victor Nikiforov & Yuuri Katsuki

There's absolutely no way i could write about these two separately. They are a packed deal, a two for one special if you will. There's a high possibility that they would be out of the country when their partner's birthday is happening, but that's okay. They've grown used to celebrating birthdays before or after the special day. If away on their partner's birthday they'll be sure he text them and tell them just now much they love and miss them, and how glad they are that they came into their lives! Tons of sappy and romantic messages are exchanged and their partner can't help how flustered it makes them, cheeks pink as they read each and every message.

Kaeya

There isn't much known about Kaeya, but I can make assumptions as to how he would celebrate his partner's birthday with them. I feel like he'd be rather mellow, not really too big on formal celebrations, but making sure to pay his partner extra attention on the day. He'd probably play around and make small ice sculptures for his partner. Honestly they could probably do that for hours, his partner calling out a random animals and him creating it in the palm of his hand. Seeing his partner so happy would make his day. Later on he would definitely take his partner out to eat somewhere before wishing them a 'Very Happy Birthday'.

Ayato Kirishima

Stubborn. This man probably wouldn't even admit that he has a partner, and he'd rather perish than celebrate their birthday with others. Birthdays just weren't really his thing. He'd probably do the bare minimum that is expected. Ayato would maybe, MAYBE mutter a small 'happy birthday'. He wouldn't directly give his partner gifts, but would instead pick out a few small things and leave them outside the door of his partner's residence before leaving.

#one piece #zoro #aot #levi ackerman #spiderman #peter parker #vinsmoke sanji #my hero academia #mha aoyama #izuku midoriya #yuri on ice #victor x yuri #genshin impact #kaeya #tokyo ghoul #ayato kirishima

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addictedtostorytelling · 1 year

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Fellow aroace here! With Valentines Day coming up, I have a question.

Does all this shipping ever make you sad? It didn’t use to, for me. But the way you describe Grissom and Sara’s intimacy and comfort with each other is beautiful. They’re better, healthier people when they’re together…I don’t know. Our society isn’t really set up to find that outside of a sexual and romantic context. Has shipping influenced your perspective at all?

Please don’t answer if any part of this makes you uncomfortable : )

hi, fellow aroace anon!

i'm going to tuck my answer after the "keep reading" here, okay?

while i can't say the feeling has ever necessarily been connected to shipping for me, when i was in my twenties, i did experience a kind of mourning for the life i had always been conditioned to expect that i would lead, which i was just then starting to realize was an impossibility for me.

at that time, as i was coming to terms with my aroaceness, i felt heartache over the prospect of being so terminally alone; i was not only sad but even a bit angry that for whatever reason, my biology and/or psychology and/or conditioning had "saddled me" with this weird indisposition toward companionship. it seemed like nature's cruel joke.

not only did i have no interest in having sexual and/or romantic relationships, but i also was such a very private person that i didn't want even a roommate, much less any kind of platonic partnership, even if such a thing were available to me.

for whatever reason, i was "wired" toward complete solitude.

particularly as i watched my friends and siblings pairing off with long-term romantic partners, getting married, having children, etc., i very much had a sense of being on the outside of some of the most fundamentally human experiences looking in, knowing i was incapable of passing over that threshold myself.

i didn't want the sex or the romantic love, but i was also afraid that without them, i'd be lost, unmoored, forgotten about; somehow incomplete; inhuman.

i worried about what would become of me, not only in a more practical/utilitarian sense—who would take care of me when i was old?—but also in the more ethical sense of being concerned about my personal growth and character.

how could i be a full person, i wondered, if i didn't know those most sublime kinds of love, if i never experienced those kinds of intimacy?

there was almost a shame to it and definitely a great deal of fear.

it wasn't until i started to more critically examine some of my underlying assumptions about what i actually wanted for myself in my life and what kinds of things were meaningful to me personally that i realized that a lot of the sadness and anger and shame and fear that i had were inherited feelings, tied to how allo- and amatonormative society generally is.

for my whole life, i had been told that living and dying alone was the worst possible thing, and, frankly, it took a lot of work for me to start to disentangle my actual feelings from that deeply ingrained but ultimately false premise.

part of this process involved starting to live on my own and to carve out a life as a lone adult person sans a romantic partner. the more time i spent by myself, the more i realized how much i liked it.

the other part just involved growing more into myself and becoming more actualized as a person, which is something i think that a lot of people experience going into their thirties.

in time, i realized that i could still be a complete and fulfilled person without experiencing love for a romantic partner and/or child.

while there are plenty of people out there—including fictional ones, like grissom and sara—for whom those kinds of love are their raisons d'être (what is ultimately most edifying and motivating and fulfilling for them), i could draw my inspiration and satisfaction elsewhere.

and it isn't the same, i know.

i have had to come to terms with the fact that there is this whole huge swath of human experience that i will never access; an unknown country i'll never be able to claim the passport to visit.

but there are other things out there, too.

some people might look at my reasons and scoff at how quotidian they are—say that they are not the kinds of things that people write epic stories about, after the same fashion as romantic love.

i've had to learn to be okay with going against those norms and defying those expectations.

in my process of self-acceptance, i looked a lot to my grandmother, who had divorced my grandfather in her sixties and then spent the last three decades of her life living alone. she traveled extensively. researched and wrote the definitive biography on an obscure twentieth-century artist. supported her family members. undertook all sorts of artistic projects. made friends wherever she went. convinced every single one of her thirteen grandchildren that they were, individually, her favorite.

barring when she had guests, she went home to an empty house/apartment every night.

but her life was rich and meaningful.

she found edification in small things.

in her nineties, before she died, she told me that she was so glad to have had so much autonomy in her later life; that she actually reveled in it.

so i've tried to take a similar approach.

my vocation as a teacher and scholar of the arts has become very meaningful to me, as have my friendships, my commitment to being kind, my obligation to keep my dumb cat alive and happy, my identity as a storyteller and writer and a supportive sister and advocate for causes i'm passionate about, even just my role (however small) in making people smile with the pictures and stories i post to the internet.

a lot of people would look at my life and opine that what fills it isn't enough—and especially not to occupy me for the next forty or fifty years.

maybe time will prove them right.

but right now, i am able to find beauty in how i live. i am motivated to better myself. i enjoy living with no one except my cat and cultivating different forms of intimacy aside from the romantic, having different needs filled by different loved ones; "doing it by committee."

though occasionally i am still curious about what romantic love would really be like, most often, i tend to think that maybe the "unknown country" isn't actually so unknown to me after all. foreign as it is, it's still imaginable to me, at least, based on my experiences with other kinds of bonds, different affections.

that's why i can enjoy seeing it in stories.

that's why i can write about it in my fics, despite having never experienced it for myself.

sure, the attraction part i have to purely suppose about, but the parts about devotion, the parts about wanting good things for someone you care about, the parts about finding yourself inspired by someone else—those parts i understand enough, i think, to approximate.

and the rest of what i don't, i'm okay not knowing.

though i do still have some practical concerns about what the future will hold for me as an unpartnered person with no children, the older i get, the more i am not only okay with but genuinely happy in my orientation as an aroace person and contented with my lifestyle.

given the choice, i wouldn't want to be allosexual or to experience romantic attraction.

in my late thirties, i'm not sad to be who i am anymore.

now.

all of the above said, my journey is my journey alone, and i'm certainly not trying to insinuate that you or any other aroace person who does feel that kind of mournfulness is wrong to do so—and neither am i saying that it's something that can just be "grown out of" or that your feelings aren't valid/real.

while i do believe that society being so thoroughly allo- and amatonomative plays a big role in how we as aspec people feel about ourselves and our prospects, i also know that there are many in our communities who do legitimately grieve not being able to engage in sexual/romantic relationships not because that's what anyone has told them they should feel but because that's how they actually do feel, just within themselves.

not everyone can or will come to feel as comfortable in their identity as i have in mine. i know that for a lot people in the community, that regret of not being able to experience sexual attraction and/or romantic love is something that very much "lives where they live." they'll always wish that they could have it; always wish that they were different.

and that's not something light to bear.

i tend to be a very naturally solitary person, even just socially, beyond anything having to do with romance or not.

i like to joke that i am the hermit on the mountain—i love to have pilgrims come to visit me, but i am also totally at peace just chilling up there by myself.

but a lot of aroace folks—probably the majority of them, honestly—have greater social needs than i do. while they might not want romantic partners or spouses, they do long to share their lives somehow; to experience long-term, deep levels of intimacy with one or more people.

to have someone to come home to, as it were.

that's why a lot of aroace folks seek out queerplatonic relationships or surround themselves with platonic friends.

however, those options aren't necessarily either available or appealing to everyone.

like you say, it's not a simple thing to find deep connections outside of the realms of sex and romance.

it can be a very isolating experience, not having an interest in those kinds of intimacy. make it hard to come by companionship, even if one wants to.

so if that's where you are—

honestly, i can't tell you what you should do. the kind of self-examination that helped me come to terms with my situation may not work for you, particularly if you have more of an interest in forming intimate nonsexual and nonromantic social connections than i have, which it sounds like you might.

all i can tell you is that you have every right to curate your life—including how you interact with fandom.

as for the grissom and sara of it all, while they definitely draw their senses of purpose from and experience beauty and healing and growth in their romantic love for each other, theirs is just one kind of experience. there are other characters for whom "transcendence" comes from other sources than romantic love.

for example, catherine.

the same is absolutely true of real life people.

love stories are not only ubiquitous in fiction, but they are also often framed in such a way that they seem like the be-all and end-all in it, with the narrative coming to its culmination only when the characters get married "and live happily ever after."

but they're not the only stories there are.

and other happy endings are possible.

i won't pretend that finding guiding principles, sources of intimacy, motivations for self-betterment, a sense of fulfillment, etc. outside of what society would consider to be the "usual avenues" toward them is easy.

traveling less-frequently trodden ground never is.

but i do know for sure they are possible to find.

there is no one right way to be human.

and there are deep and real and wonderful loves out there—full passions!—that are not predicated on one's ability to experience sexual attraction or romance.

keep looking for yours, anon.

there's a lot of beautiful country out there for us aroaces to explore; parts unknown, just waiting to be mapped.

thanks for the question! please feel welcome to send another any time.

#answered #anon #about me

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alwayscraftynight · 11 months

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Hello, I am one of the other 5 Jacob Hopkins fans on planet earth. I’ve been planning on writing a redemption fic for Jacob as a way to make something meaningful out of the 1000s of hours I have spent daydreaming about this loser, as well as to make a rebuttal of sorts to all of the people in the fandom who thinks he is pure evil and deserves to be horrifically murdered.

The fic only has 4 paragraphs at the moment because I suck at writing, but the basic idea for the plot goes as follows.

After his last appearance in Thanks to Them Jacob gets arrested for harassment, setting up illegal traps, etc and serves time in prison for a couple of months to maybe a year. He is then submitted to a mental rehabilitation facility because he’s him. In the facility he unlearns all of his conspiracy theories, including the ones about the existence of Vee, Eda, and the demon realm as a whole. He basically gets gaslighted into believing he was hallucinating everything magic related. He is then released from the rehabilitation center and stays with a family member who lives in a town close to Gravesfield and acts as his ward (I currently have it as his cousin). The fic starts 2 years into his stay with his cousin and Jacob is relatively sane and able to deal with his NPD (he has that by the way) and the traumas he experienced during his time as a conspiracy theorist, as he works at some kind of low skilled job to help pay for bills and things.

Eventually the plot happens and he begins to slowly figure out that magic, demons, and witches do in fact exist with a heavy amount of angst. Current idea for that happening is Hunter just showing up because Luz, Vee, and Camila realized one day that they have no idea what happened to Jacob after he was arrested so Hunter does some Reconnaissance for old times sake (Camila might be there too). Then more plot happens until Jacob is properly informed of and then brought to the demon realm via the boiling isles human realm exchange program, where he makes peace with his past and properly addresses what he did and apologizes.

With that in mind, here is my request.

Your headcanons. Give them to me. (pretty please)

All of the personality traits, hobbies, backstories, and everything else about Jacob Hopkins that you’d be willing to share. And also some feedback about the overview, what ideas and themes could be explored, and just your general thoughts would be nice.

Cheers.

Oh boy I hope you're prepared for a lot of rambling, your fic sounds absolutely AWESOME and I'd love to read it when you post it! I also don't really understand the abundance of hate he gets in the fandom. Like I understand not liking him and he IS kinda annoying, but I've seen people that like Philip treating him like the antichrist. Tbh I'm not really too bothered by it from a moral standpoint because he isn't real but it does make me a bit sad (my autism has latched HARD onto this character)

The cousin aspect is also a funny coincidence because I'm also incorporating his cousin into my AU because she's Masha's mother lol, and the NPD would make a lot of sense tbh. I think a cool idea to explore could maybe be his relationship with Eda since iirc she was the first demon he came in contact with, I also think while he's relearning that magic and demons and witches exist he'd still struggle a bit with not seeing demons and witches as people because he finds them fascinating (obviously he'd get better about this but it'd be fun to explore a few of his flaws during his redemption n stuff!) I also think exploring a possible friendship with Gus would be cool, since Gus is heavily interested in humans and Jacob is heavily interested in witches though I'm not sure if Gus would be comfortable with it at first from the whole scene where he gets arrested. I unfortunately can't do most of these for my AU since Eda is deceased and the idea is moreso him getting what he wants but facing consequences for it (and not learning because he has someone around to encourage said behavior.. ooo mysterious)

Like I said your fic sounds extremely cool to me and I'd really like to read it when you're finished if you're comfortable with that!

As for headcanons I have A LOT of convoluted stuff about this guy bc I too daydream about the loser daily lol. I unfortunately have a bad problem with forgetting stuff as soon as I go to write it down BUT I will do my best to give you some unsorted headcanons. A lot of this will be explored in my AU specifically once I get to it lol. Also some of this might be contradicted by canon because I unfortunately cannot rewatch the series until my brother is ready to bc I promised. hope I can give you some good inspiration though!

- I think he's pretty tech savvy and good with computers. Probably cares a lot about his appearance online, maybe more than his appearance in real life.

- He definitely gets a lot of stuff for his collection that are (supposed to be at least) magical artifacts, but he also buys novelty items, taxidermy, weapons, old junk, etc. Basically anything he finds cool.

- Was actually planning to buy the old house (y'know, the one with the portal door that I think the wittebanes used to live in?) and turn it into a sort of research facility for himself away from everyone else. I imagine in canon he would've been really mad when he heard the Nocedas bought it.

- I personally think he has always been into theories and had a few weird beliefs, and the fixation started off harmless enough but it ended up escalating to the degree it was hurting other people and himself when he got a picture of the owl beast and moved to gravesfield.

- Speaking of above in my AU he is mostly influenced by a group of people online and radicalized if that's the right term. Most of them are a lot like him and just.. heavily misinformed. Basically his beliefs got more and more outlandish over time to the point where it impacted his everyday life and the people around him. He sees them as his friends though. They play DND. Yippee.

- Masha and him are related as I said before, Masha pretty much sees him as an uncle. I hc they'd actually hang out at the historical society with their friends once they got back from camp, and Jacob would show them and their friends his collection sometimes but he probably wouldn't let them touch anything.

- Masha and him bonded over their shared love for cryptids.

- In the canon timeline I hc Masha cut him off after finding out what happened with Vee and Luz. Pretty sad but honestly kinda deserved.

- Personality wise I think he can come across as kind of an asshole but he doesn't really realize that he's doing it. He's gotten better at it since he got his job, but his only interactions with someone could be arguing and he'd assume they're friends when the other person hates him.

- When interacting with other people if he assumes someone doesn't like something he does and wants to appeal to them he'll simply lie and say he doesn't. I hc he kinda has a problem with lying about himself and putting on different personas with people.

- Projects onto Philip a LOT because of his own experiences with his brother and it's one of the main reasons he fixated onto the story of the brothers wittebane so much (will go into more detail in the AU on this one, don't wanna spoil too much)

- Undiagnosed autism and ADHD. Because every character I like needs to be autistic (joking) I feel like he doesn't get it checked out because he thinks "well I don't have a problem functioning so there's no way I have that kinda thing"

- Definitely into the fantasy genre with the whole renaissance fair thing. Likes DND and probably game of thrones (I know nothing about game of thrones so I can't talk about it more lol) I also think he's into the owl house universe's equivalent of pokemon + MLP but that's more on the downlow.

- Does not like birds. Even if he didn't think they were spy cameras (which he does) they still freak him out. Masha has a pet pigeon and he hates it.

Ok, I'm probably gonna go to bed now but these are the ones I can think of. Thank you for the ask and I hope I gave you some good ideas ^^

#jacob hopkins #the owl house #seriously tho link me that fic when its done it sounds cool!!#jacob toh #toh #masha toh

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alovelyburn · 2 years

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Rambles about the Golden Age Arc Part 15

Leeeets see how far this can go. I think at most we’ll end up with 17 - this one, the eclipse and the eclipse aftermath. But I’m hoping and dreaming that I can pull of 16. And I’m not changing this regardless of what happens, let it stand as a testament to the giddy heights to which I aspired, whether or not I fall short.

(I fell short!)

Rambles about the Golden Age Arc Part 15

1. I have a lot of really complicated feelings about this whole section of the series. I think it’s fantastic, beautifully written, deeply heartbreaking and kind of disturbing? I mean I talked about this a bit last time - the dehumanized way the Hawks in general regarded Griffith, the way they saw him as a ticket to better things and the way they treated him like a doll when he couldn’t help them anymore.

The thing is, I don’t really mean to make it sound like they were disgusting moochers who didn’t care about him or anything. I think they... looked up to him in a way that bordered on religious and like any group of such people, they saw him as the thing that made their life meaningful and brought them comfort and possibilities. And @zombiesgohome, which is a much nicer person than me, also pointed out that its especially difficult for them to let go of the dream of climbing back to the top... because they were THERE. Griffith took them on and turned them into the strongest army in Midland. This group of mostly commoners and the occasional noble-too-far-down-the-line-to-inherit suddenly found themselves knighted, on the verge of peerage. They were war heroes. And then suddenly it all ended and... because they thought of Griffith as untouchable and miraculous and retained that faith in him that they build (with his help) over years, they never doubted for a moment that if they could get him back, they could just do it all over again.

And they’re so young, right, like even Corkus was only in his early 20s. It would be devastating to feel like all your hopes are over when you’ve just started living.

So, you know, I get it. But that said.... it’s still very uncomfortable, and i do kind of think it’s intended to be.

It’s telling that as soon as it becomes clear that Griffith can’t help them they try to attach themselves to Casca instead. There’s no... ability to make their own path or forge their own future, they’re always looking to someone greater than them to provide it, and that’s why Griffith never... saw them as friends. Because they had sort of a mutually beneficial parasitic relationship with him really - much moreso than just a normal commander and army.

Also Judeaus line on the first page above is changed in the deluxe edition - it now says “Without Griffith, there is no Band of the Hawk.” Which I think is... much more pointed than just saying he’s the founder. I mean, the group’s name just means “Griffith’s band,” doesn’t it?”

But okay there’s a lot going on here lemme see how I can break down my personal perspective on it...

2. When I’m writing these things sometimes I flash back to some weird shit I saw people say about the series at some point. I mean, it’s definitely obvious when that happens because I start arguing against things no one said to me, but anyway right now the thing in question is the belief that Guts and Casca were still intending to take off, and Guts said he’d stay entirely because Casca said she would (presumably so he could be with her).

Okay, no. First of all, when it becomes clear that Griffith can’t be their war leader anymore and the Hawks ask Casca to remain as commander, Guts is just about to tell them yeah let’s do it? He has at this point already begun changing his mind, he just hasn’t articulated it yet, and that’s extremely obvious in the scenes to come. What’s more, Casca herself is already wavering, saying she has to think about it. I’m sure some of that is an attempt to stall because I really don’t think she wants to keep leading them - she barely wanted to do it to begin with.. But it’s clear that she also feels an obligation to them as well as to Griffith.

But really let’s look at Guts. She knows he was about to tell them to keep going. And he is already like, wtf Casca don’t tell me you were thinking about quitting? He has obviously, at this point - and perhaps without even fully registering that he’s done it - begun to give up on leaving and not because he feels obligated the way Casca does but because not giving up is who he is.

Also Deluxe edition - that last panel is “There are some battles a person can’t give up on because they started them.” Which just has a completely different implication - she’s not saying yeah since you started doing this i guess you have to keep going. Rather she’s drawing a line between the battles started by people like Guts and Griffith, who chose a direction and headed in that direction and who cant change courses because it’s their fight that means everything to them... and the battles someone like the Hawks or Casca herself were part of for someone else’s vision. Because without Griffith that vision is gone, isn’t it? If they keep going what are they even aiming for?

Because Guts is a Big Epic, though, he doesn’t have the same reaction to that loss as everyone else, you know? Because the thing is, even when he was originally part of the Hawks, Guts didn’t actually hang from Griffith’s dream. He did what he wanted. He made his own choices even if it meant disobeying Griffith’s orders. That’s a lot of why Griffith loves him. In the wake of losing Griffith’s guidance he may waver but he still stands up, he still finds a direction of his own. Casca understands the despair that falls on the Hawks without Griffith much better than Guts can not because Guts doesn’t care about Griffith (...obviously. Griffith’s his most important person and anyone who thinks otherwise should read it again) it’s because he is “Just like Griffith.” They’re made of the same stuff. They’re people that get clung to, rather than people who cling.

Except to each other.

Anyway, that becomes really evident with the Raiders in a minute or two.

Deluxe says: I wanted someone to be by my side.

Not a huge difference really, but. Anyway one of the things about Guts and Casca’s romance is that so much of it is, as they both said, licking each other’s wounds. I don’t think that’s meant to discount or undermine their connection, it’s just interesting because the connection grows in their mutual sadness. For a long time I wanted there to be some deep meaning behind her saying that at this moment, but ultimately, now that I’ve taken a step back, I think she’s just explaining why she comes over and leans on Guts. She was just looking for a moment of comfort.

And Griffith hears it, which is relevant my God, I wish people could read.

Anyway!

And there’s Guts turning the wheels in his head.

3. Anyway back to the scene that some people think is a sexual assault for some godforsaken reason. Look. Not that anyone’s going to listen to me but fuck’s sake. Okay.

Let’s recount Griffith and Casca’s relationship briefly.

She’s in love with him, but more than that she’s always felt that he gave her strength through being near her and touching her. Whenever she felt anxious he would place a hand on her shoulder and she would feel strong again. He just heard her express her fears and say she wants someone near her. Now she comes into the wagon and she’s bandaging him up. So like ok.

When she first starts, hes just watching her with this soft expression. At this point she’s still calm and composed on the outside.

But as she continues to think about him and their history, she starts visibly shaking and becoming increasingly upset.

And he’s ... watching her face? Like he can tell she’s getting worked up.

Many people take that look he gets as evidence of his evol or whatever, but he gets it when Guts is endangered and he tries to help him. He gets it when he catches people trying to poison him. He gets it when Charlotte says she missed him. Guts gets it too - ALL THE TIME, when he’s focusing or intent. It’s literally just Miura’s way of visually depicting that kind of mindset, and of course then she knocks over the water in her anxiety which then leads to what people think is some kind of rape attempt.

But like, that obviously makes no sense, right? Because even aside from the non-sequitur that would be, how’s he going to assault her when they’re both fully dressed? How can you call it a rape attempt when she says no and he just kind of hugs her?

Look. I don’t know whether Miura was trying to imply that he was making a sexual move on her - it’s wholly possible, i mean he does focus on their crotch overlap. Or maybe that was meant to show what Casca perceived him to be doing.

Because this moment does look to me like a moment when her perception of what he’s doing changes. So I don’t know. Maybe he was just trying to hold her like she said she wanted someone to. I don’t know. But calling it a sexual assault is bugfuck and I think people need to pull their twisty glasses off their eyes and stop guzzling the haterade. Confirmation bias is a bitch.

Also, the placement of the scene is kind of obviously meant to call back to all the times she had anxiety and he comforted her, because it’s literally right after she thinks about his tendency to comfort her when she was anxious, followed by her becoming visibly anxious. So like, clearly he’s trying to comfort her? You could say he’s doing it sexually or with poorly coordinated hugs, either really works given his personality, but it’s really not an attempt to assault her. It’s like the Charlotte thing - if you’re reading it that way, it’s because you want to. Full stop.

The other and honestly kind of dickish but still wholly accurate reason this makes no sense as a sexual assault is, even if you perceive Griffith (as opposed to Femto) as someone who would rape a person, the only reason Femto did it was to taunt Guts, and Guts isn’t there so what would the motivation even be?

Moving on!

4. Back to Guts and how he very obviously had no intention of leaving before Casca even opened her mouth about staying. Literally Judeau is like gonna go back to training? and Guts is like “............................................” Like, come on he’s already wavering. But more than that:

He does want to stay for Griffith. Because the second Judeau mentions that he intends to look after him, Guts goes from “.......” to “oh, yeah ok me too.”

The thing is though, even though I do think in this moment (and since getting back from the rescue), Guts has been wavering because he,... loves Griffith and doesn’t want to leave him in this state any more than Casca does, for example... his want to stay as a generality isn’t solely about Griffith just like it isn’t solely about Casca -

It is, in a larger sense, about his growing realization that all the times he wondered where he belonged, he was already in that place and didn’t realize it until it was too late. Because as Gaston says, they’re his family... so how can he leave them now?

But going back to the Judeau scene, the difference between Guts and Judeau in this is really obvious. Because Guts isn’t trying to stay from obligation, he’s trying to stay because he loves Griffith and he loves the Hawks and he doesn’t want to leave them anymore especially with Griffith as he is. For Judeau it’s duty, but for Guts it’s personal. This comes up again in... Volume 18 I think it is, when he thinks about how how technically he doesn't have the duty or obligation to avenge the Hawks since he wasn’t even a Hawk anymore - he chose to do it because of his own pain, and because he still loves them, and can’t forget them.

Judeau is looking to take care of Griffith because of a sense of loyalty and obligation - like Gambino’s mercenary band taking care of him in his fallen state.

But Guts just... wants to take care of his friend.

Guts’ face here is pretty funny to me because it is not the face of someone who is enthusiastic about taking off with his girlfriend, it’s like he’d like Judeau to stop meddling in his shit or something. But really Judeau’s main allegiance has been to Casca since way back when - what he really cares about is making sure she doesnt get sucked into Griffith’s orbit again.

Ultimately I do think if the Eclipse hadn’t been triggered Guts would have ended up staying around. I don’t know whether he would have headed off with the Raiders or stuck around with the larger group... and I don’t know whether he or Casca would have ended up leading. ...well if I’m honest I suspect it would have been Guts because Casca didn’t even want the job and everyone knew, even going back to just after the timeskip, that Guts is the only one who can stand in Griffith’s place without drowning in his shadow. But either way, I don’t think he had any interest in leaving again.

I guess you would have ended up with a situation similar to the merc group he grew up with - formed by Gambino who, post-injury, ended up being taken care of by the group while it operated under a new leader.

It’s a little fitting really, a lot of Guts’ life goes in cycles - eg the way Casca becomes an echo of Cis after the eclipse. Cis who, notably, went mad after a miscarriage.

I mean if nothing else Judeau does know how Casca is.

Anyway, the thing is, their individual battles with themselves over whether to go or stay, their individual decisions to stay (even if Judeau kinda half-pushed Guts out the door), those are things that don’t really have much to do with each other, right? Yes they are trying to be together, but when it comes down to it they both make a decision about what to do based on what Griffith needs... because in the end they both always focused on him over themselves or each other. I feel like trying to turn that into a non-thing is kind of missing the weight and tragedy of the story because part of the reason Griffith’s actions are so devastating to Guts (and Casca presumably once she actually remembers them) is that they were inflicted by someone that they were willing to kill and die for. Someone they never would have willingly abandoned - even someone they chose over one another. If you see it like Griffith wasn’t that big a deal to them, then the Eclipse actually loses some of its bite to me.

And it is based on Griffith. Casca is explicitly deciding to choose Griffith because he needs her, but Guts already decided to stay when Judeau said he would take care of Griffith even without knowing what Casca would choose to do, you know?

This scene really reminds me of Griffith asking Guts if he’s a horrible person and Guts telling him not to worry about it. Because in both cases, Casca-and-Guts are trying to be supportive of this person they love. But much like Guts didn’t fully understand what Griffith was trying to ask him, Casca doesn’t fully understand Guts’ reasoning. Because they’ve been spinning their wheels independently, they haven’t been touching base, she has no idea he already realized that these people are the home he was looking for. She’s trying to support what she thinks he wants.

But...

In reality, he just regrets leaving to begin with. He wants to stay.

I really want to keep blabbing but I feel like all the Griffith psychology stuff from the hallucination of himself at his prime through the sacrifice needs to be in one post so I guess I’ll lay off for the moment. Also I need to bring tissues to talk about that.

Besides this one is short in chapters but long in blah blah, so, NEXT TIME.... The Mind of the Hawk! My very favorite topic. Except maybe the Mind of the Dog.

#berserk #berserk meta #rambles about berserk

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mwolf0epsilon · 2 years

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How to Avenge Yourself

Summary: In which Fox speaks with Oln and reconsiders the sort of control he craves.

[Warning for mentions of suicidal ideation, a bit of a follow up to this little drabble I wrote about Fox in mine and @lost-on-kamino 's Forceful Intervention AU.]

[THIS STORY IS NOW ON AO3]

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"All sentient life appears and disappears." These are words that sting more than the rag pressed against the cut on his side. "As a whole, nature doesn't much care for stationary stagnation. Life forms evolve, adapt, and inevitably disappear to give way to something new."

He'd been in a knife fight. Or rather, he'd been attacked with a knife while he carried no weapon of his own. Instinct had told Fox to protect the elderly man behind the stall, and he'd thrown himself into danger just like he always had back on Coruscant.

He'd been stabbed, the attacker fled, and the man behind the stall had brought him into his home and gone out to call for help. And help arrived in the form of red frosted-tipped curls, a thunderbolt shaped earring, and eyes as black as night.

"Dying now wouldn't be extraordinary or meaningful in the grand scheme of things you know..." The Not-Thorn purrs, jagged fangs gleaming in the low light of the room Fox is resting in. "You've come this far, why do you seek the final voyage so soon?"

"I'm tired..." And battered, and scarred, and so very alone. But what could the Ferryman of Epifania possibly know about the bone-weariness of mortals? They were an immortal being clad in the shapes and forms of the dearly departed.

"You are traumatized." The Coruscanti accent melts and shifts into something else. Something that curdles in Fox's gut like sour milk. Red and blond curls shorten and darken. A warped red 5 appears on the Ferryman's temple. The feline-ish smile and black eyes remain, further accentuated by a goatee. Their features never change from those of Fett. "You think your body and will are broken beyond repair... That you don't deserve a peaceful existence. But that is not true... Lost child of Mandalore, you won't be dying anytime soon."

Not even the reaper would let him rest. How pathetic was that? Angry hot tears threaten to overfill and spill from Fox's one working eye, only to be thumbed away by gentle yet callused fingers. The Ferryman's form shifts constantly, going from lost brother to lost sister to lost strangers. Whether or not Fox recognizes the clones and natborns they have committed to memory, has nothing to do with whether or not he cares.

They are a walking remembrance. One day his face too will join the ones the Ferryman mimics.

"Why can't it be my choice...?" Fox asks, miserable and so very done with being helpless. With everyone else having control over him.

"It shouldn't be a choice whether or not you live or die. No one should ever have to chose such a thing..." They look like Thorn again. The Coruscanti accent is oddly comforting. "Life is a gift that all should get to enjoy, especially when given such a harsh start like yourself..."

"What if I can't enjoy it? Look at me, I'm barely alive as it stands..." His body is a half-blind scarred mess. The cybernetic spine burns his skin when he's out in the sun too long, and the mask he has to wear makes him look like a muzzled mangy massiff.

"Would you like some advice?" The Ferryman asks, their tone is rather merry for someone who's putting pressure on a weeping wound.

"What advice could possibly make this any less unbearable?"

"Live well out of spite." They grin mischievously. "There is no better revenge than living a good life after someone tried to ruin you. You may be 'barely alive' right now, but that can change and it undermines the efforts of your abusers..."

"That's it?" Live well just to stick it to Palpatine, the Senate and Vader? It couldn't be that simple...

"Life is much more simple than most care to accept." The Ferryman shrugs. "If more sentients paused to smell the flowers, they'd understand this... I for one prefer not to overcomplicate things. You live, you die, the galaxy carries on. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't try to be happy before your end comes."

Would living out of spite and trying to get himself back on a better track be of any worth in the grand scheme of things? Would Fox ever allow himself any peace of mind, just because it'd piss off a few di'kuts that had wronged him?

Maybe...

And maybe the idea of seeing his brothers and his little nephews and nieces flourish didn't sound so bad. An added bonus of sorts.

"We'll see how things go..." He lets himself sink into the mattress of the old man's cot. Half-lidded eye just barely catching the satisfied grin on the very plump red cat's face, before it clambers out the window and flees.

The old man returns with a clone in tow. The blue of their armour doesn't make Fox flinch anymore. With a stern yet exasperated expression on their face, and a shake of the head, Sponge begins treating Fox's stab wound.

"Stop trying to get yourself killed while I'm in town, my adiik don't need to know their ba'vodu is a suicidal shabuir." They grumble as they work.

"I'll remind myself to make it up to them later..." Fox closed his eye and let himself relax. There's a smile on his face for the first time in years, just hidden behind his mask.

"Di'kut..." The fondness in the medic's voice didn't go over his head this time. Maybe living a few more years wouldn't hurt as much as he thought.

The needle suturing his side stung more than the prospect of a tomorrow.

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #forceful intervention au #commander fox #oln the ferryman #clone medic sponge #fanfic

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myflowertree1 · 5 days

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Elevate Mother's Day: Unique Online Gifts to Celebrate Mom's Unparalleled Love

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#mothers day gifts online

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kyrodo · 1 month

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One should not base their understanding of people's words by their own imagination. As much as I was once forced to in order to attempt to understand what I would have ideally not attempted to, that is the one thing that seems to peeve me the most about certain people. My mother for instance, her understanding of fact always comes from her imagination first. She treats that imagination as fact until someone tells her otherwise, until someone corrects her. And that is not the way it should be.

One should always ask for clarification or otherwise treat what they don't know as something they don't know instead of replacing unknowns with fabrications of reality or wild predictions that have no concrete basis. My mother is not that type of person. Choskey in a very different way also is guilty of that kind of thinking. So much so that half the conversation with people he talks to is of them correcting him. And it almost feels deliberate but it is a flaw of character and a habit that likely won't go away.

And I accept that, at least his version of that type of thinking is less stressful to deal with. My mom not so much. Religion works the same way. And people within that collective only seem to hear what they want to hear. See what they want to see, and that often makes them impossible to deal with in a meaningful way. Which is why on one hand I accept the ideal of "freedom of religion" but on another I also understand that it is ultimately coping mechanisms for the concept of death and loss. It is in essence "what people want to hear and not necessarily the truth".

During my traumatic spiral, I found it easy to turn to my own version of that type of thinking. Because anything felt better than my reality. Given that I was stuck with peloton when I went to school for game programming with no end in sight. Given that we were getting further and further away from everybody I knew with no ideal replacements. It was difficult to simply accept that my reality was unhappy. Was tragic. Was unchanging. Had no hope of turning around. At least not any time soon. And I was desperate for any kind of solution to that fate.

Even if it was just in my head. Even if I had to build these world salads to create this romantic reality with someone to escape from that fate. Work with their obscure communication to find something that comforted me. To pin down what I wanted to hear and what I wanted to see. Surrender myself to what I feel and make what I feel as strong as I possibly can to try to lock that reality in. But it wasn't that simple. I was at odds with my own principles pushing into concepts like polyamorism and the like. I didn't see a comfortable way to bring it up to Red, and he was already dealing with enough.

I didn't want my life to end that way. And that was the core of the midlife crisis I was having. Even though I was nowhere close to the "end" I sensed that trend of things always getting worse and not better and that was the lowest things have ever been. With added stresses like worrying about rent every month. Or constantly having to replenish Red's funds. I don't know when we get to visit a con again and have friends to actually enjoy it with, and I mean that literally.

So Choskey is a very huge step in the positive direction. Choskey is a promise that I will enjoy that someday and more. With his friends like bittfish, with myself Red and Choskey. With my heart fully into it and not needing to hold back. A promise that I will experience deep satisfaction and happiness again that I used to experience in college. When everyone was smaller and innocent. When everyone was younger and we all hadn't had everything figured out yet. We were happy. We were living in the moment focused on enjoying ourselves, on how to have fun, and how to get good at whatever x game or where to go for furcons and furmeets. And I wish to experience that again, with Choskey.

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liilacpeach · 5 months

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First Years Relationship Headcanons

✧... I didn't think Deuce was one of my favorites, but it was one of the most fun to write, maybe I'm just in denial

It's fluff time!

GN reader

Deuce

✧...

All it took was for the two of you to end up being a duo on a project to become closer, for him, your efforts in "surviving" that school project together symbolizes the beginning of your friendship. Because of the way he lived in middle school, he sees connections with people differently, so for him the fact that you helped him in his goal of becoming an honors student and you dedicated yourself to your own ambition is already admirable (even if it's actually one of the easiest things you've ever done). Since he's not used to this way of interacting (without using his fists) and is constantly trying to appear like a well-behaved student, it makes any attempt by him to talk to you at first super awkward, but it doesn't take long for him to become more comfortable, also thanks to the admiration he has for you. More and more he would end up looking at you, even if he didn't realize it himself, when he got bored, worried, you changed something small in your appearance, wanted to show something especially to you, he would look in your direction, even if he usually has difficulty in learning, it seems so simple for him to notice every detail about you. For him, you are already someone who brings peace of mind, and he is proud of how much he has evolved to have someone like you around, so he ends up focusing more on you. The biggest obstacle is him realizing that his own eyes don't do the same with his other friends.

Him admitting that his feelings for you have become more romantic will happen at one time or another, even if he hesitates a little with each sentence and it only happens after many calls to his mother, the problem is the fact that he doesn't admit everything which doesn't fit the honor student mold he wants to follow, despite his tendency to be more sincere. Now with you being part of the list of important people to him, Deuce wants you to always see him as someone reliable and mature, even in moments when that description doesn't match reality. One day when he gave in to another student's provocations and you witnessed his more violent side was enough for him to despair and avoid your gaze for a bit, although he normally resolves problems directly, he ends up becoming very apprehensive about your possible reaction. It doesn't mean that he disappears for a long time, the way he misses you works against himself, so you don't need to move, nor take a single step, for him to talk to you again in less than 24 hours, from this moment you will be able to observe the way he improves first hand, but now having knowledge of everything he wants to get better at.

For him who used his hands as something to hurt others, him offering to hold your hand as a way of showing affection is very important. Although it's meaningful, he does it often, just the fact that you don't fear his hands and hold them with pride makes his heart beat faster. Also helping you in every way possible as a way of showing his love, he would increase his study hours just to try to support you in the subjects you find most difficult.

He's trying to improve his own reputation, so he'll avoid any display of affection in public, other than practically looking at you every second, or hanging onto your hand all day. Deuce would like to be a support for you, someone you know you can count on, so when you refer to him using any word that indicates he is reliable, you will already be able to see him get redder and redder and without the ability to form sentences for a while. Also with the slightest initiative from you to reciprocate the help he gives you, it will bring the chance to see him trying to hide a smile.

Ace

✧...

You would only need to get a good grade before Ace would decide to make it his life's mission to annoy you. Every day he appears at your desk offering something in exchange for copying your homework answers, or having your help cheat on tests. Even though he is actually quite clever, his lack of dedication and preference for taking shortcuts makes his grades seem sadder with each test. Despite the many other people he could make the same offer to, he continues to insist that it has to be you, because you seem like "an easier target" (maybe in fact he just found the reason he was looking for to talk to you). What he doesn't have in good grades, he has in charisma, so even if you deny the cheapest bread from the cafeteria that he offered in exchange for help, in the end you end up becoming closer anyway. Instead of "opportunities" and bargaining chips, now he comes to you with card games, a new movie he wanted to watch with you, or bringing something he decided to show you because he thought it was funny. Even though he's in denial, you're increasingly getting special treatment.

Another member of the emotionally constipated, him admitting that his attraction to you is not as platonic as he says it is is practically impossible, along with his fear of losing the friendship he values so much, but impulsive in the way he is, the desire to have a title different from the rest for you and the imagination that hammers in his head what could happen if he took a little risk, bring him to your door, trying in every way to make you confess first, even if it was actually him who was freaking out inside, even if you did nothing, he would end up confessing anyway. As one of the closest people to him, it's not a complicated task to see his emotions, including the ones he doesn't want to show, but getting him to tell you instead of having to guess them is where the challenge lies, it would require a lot of persistence on your part to be allowed to see the insecurities he has like anyone else, but when you overcome that barrier, it will be worth every second of insistence, with him opening up at once, even if he is embarrassed later.

Ace values not being bored to the point of cheating in any situation than having to spend 5 minutes doing something he finds boring, so the best way for him to express how much he cares about you is by trying to keep you entertained, whether through jokes, teasing, or even small pranks. For him, there is nothing that gives him the same adrenaline rush that he feels when he sees that he managed to put a smile on your face, especially if you were having a bad day before.

Ace tries to give the impression that he's not that smitten, but it only takes a few minutes with the two of you in the same room for him to become attached to you in some way, whether it's pulling your hand, trying to tickle you or stepping lightly on your foot to irritate you. Even though he does this easily, all he needs is for you to return any kind of more affectionate physical touch for him to be left blushing and lost in what to do.

Jack

✧...

As a self-proclaimed "lone wolf", you probably had to be the first to talk to him, at least in the beginning. Jack has a high demand on himself and others to stay within what he considers correct, so if you've proven yourself to be "worthy" of his admiration, it becomes increasingly easier to talk to him for longer or he'll start his conversations himself. Unlike Deuce, his admiration is more down to earth, since his attempt to get closer to him, you gained a little more of his attention, and perceptive as he is, it didn't take long to notice your qualities. Even with his reserved personality, his beastmen traits don't lie or try to disguise the enthusiasm he has in his interactions, especially if you comment on how cool you think he is, since his tail starts moving so quickly until becoming an unrecognizable blur, not being discreet as he would like. Jack tries to act subtly, but you can't help but notice him waiting for you to go to the classes you two have together, how quickly he arrives when someone decides to bother you, or the warnings he tries to give if he thinks the situation would bring any type of risk to you. Even if you are able to protect yourself, it doesn't matter much, since in any case he will always be there to protect or help you, because this is the way he treats the people close to him, even if he doesn't admit.

He is very indirect in the way he expresses himself, but he is super loyal, staying by your side more and more, especially when he suspects that you are what he was looking for in his romantic ideal. For someone who prefers to keep his emotions to himself, Jack would be very confused that his intentions towards you have changed, and that if he wants to achieve his goal of having a partner for life, he will have to use his own sense of justice not to lie to you, even if it is against his will to hide how he feels out of shame. From the moment you two are in a relationship, it will be natural for him to open up to you, he does not take this decision to declare himself to you lightly, already knowing that he trusts you and taking into account that he would tell you what you wanted to know about him from the moment he decided to say he wanted to be your partner, regardless of how long it took to happen.

Jack is another who considers helping you to be romantic gestures, but these gestures are usually focused on physical tasks: holding doors, carrying books, protection, even carrying you when you're too exhausted from the day's activities (even though he's dying of shame inside). Since being someone's partner is a special title for him, you become one of the few who have the honor of receiving affectionate words from him when you two are in private, they don't come easily, but he puts all his ability to focus to be able to express to you at least a little of how much he cares.

Now that he is in a relationship with you, he has become much more affectionate in private, even if shyly, but the same does not work in public, Jack will spend as much time as he can with you on a daily basis, as this is the way he sees romance, but for someone so closed off, he ends up not taking any initiative while there is at least one person around the two of you, but nothing would stop you from trying, if your actions were still within his "acceptable" limit. To make him even more shy, you just need to praise the physique that he works so hard to maintain, that his tail gives him right away.

Epel

✧...

On a day when Epel was trying to escape from Vil and ended up where you usually stay to spend time, as long as you didn't give him away, or even offer help, he would be more interested in interacting with you (even if the escape was not successful). Because he hasn't interacted much with people his own age, he seems a little lost, but if you don't judge his mistakes when trying to follow Vil's instructions, he would realize that he can trust you, showing the other side of his personality that he is generally unmotivated to take it public, wanting you to watch his sports training, even teaching you how to do his hobby: apple-carving. When he becomes exhausted, he seeks your company, as your presence has become a sign for him that he can relax now, this becomes visible in the way he tries to sit close to you in the classes you two have together, if he has to practice something he does it around you, or when he needs help with the subjects he has the most difficulty with, he ends up going to you, even if you're not good at them either. He tries to impress you, showing off his abilities to the fullest so that you see what is authentic about him, not the façade he has to maintain, but still if he tries to act around you it is generally how he would like to be seen and not how others see him.

Since for him, courage is one of the qualities he admires most, he would not hesitate to say that he has a romantic interest in you, this does not mean that he is calm while speaking, but rather that he will face the fear of rejection and the shame he feels in exposing his feelings directly, as his ideals suas about how he should be. For Epel, whose focus is to be as "manly" as he can, he ends up falling into the trap of avoiding showing emotions that are not considered "allowed" for a man to have, he practically rejects everything that is not anger, so before admitting to you that everything is not okay, first he would have to admit it to himself. When you talk about it enough and come to an agreement about this point of view of his, which he is stubborn in maintaining, he would start to talk more about his emotions, even the ones he is ashamed of having.

Epel is someone whose most striking quality is persistence, and he uses it to show the depth of his feelings for you, he would go through even the most difficult moments with you, without even thinking about backing down, even if anyone else said otherwise. He also tries to be more like a prince, offering protection even if whoever he faced seemed stronger, trying to be someone you can turn to if you need it.

Remembering that since he has never interacted with people close to his age group before, any public affection he has with you will mirror that of elderly people, holding hands, doing your respective hobbies together, giving each other small flowers, and at most a kiss on the cheek. The words that affect him the most are also related to how cool you think he is, it only takes a few of them for him to start melting in front of you, other forms of affection also make him blush, but this is the fastest way to break any of his facades.

Sebek

✧...

Even if you heard his screams echo around you every day, it's not the same as getting closer to him, even if you now know him a little better from what you heard during one of his lectures about Malleus. He expresses himself in a more direct and "brute" way, he speaks at a high volume, but you just need to pay attention to what he says at least a little to realize that he is just very honest, and has no bad intentions, regardless of the way he phrase his thoughts. Being aware of the way he thinks because he exposes it in public, it is not difficult to approach him using the knowledge that he himself gave without realizing it, since despite all the training, he is an airhead (an adorable one, but still). Sebek uses words that could be interpreted as condescending and calls you human at first, but from the outside it's easy to see that he enjoys these interactions with you, either because of your patience or because you challenge him in some way, even if that's not what your intention is, when you two get closer he starts to deviate from his original path to talk about his idol with you, or occasionally calls you by your name, even if he later tries to hide it.

Sebek doesn't admit to himself or to others that he has any romantic intentions towards you, even though it seems so obvious to the point of giving the impression that if you shook his head you would only hear the sound of a small peanut hitting the sides of his head instead of his brain, but deep down he knows that he has the desire to be in a relationship with you, not just idolize you from afar, even if at first he saw love that way, but he wants to be close and important to you in the same way you are to him. His honesty is one of his best qualities, even if he doesn't agree when every time he approaches you his face gets redder since he became aware of how he feels. Despite being very proud, he confesses his feelings at one time or another, even if it is out of jealousy. From the moment you are together it becomes easier for him to open up, he tries to avoid topics that are not as admirable as the image he wants to create, but over time this changes, because the more he trusts you, his feelings end up escaping, even if without thinking, also due to his more direct nature.

He would dedicate himself to you in the same way he dedicates himself to everything he really wants, always doing his best to make you as happy and comfortable as possible. But the affection he has for you is more visible in his words, even with the rude tone, when Sebek sees a quality in someone, he speaks without hesitation, when you are together and he is distracted, the words come out without him noticing, as for the more time you spend with him, the more compliments you receive, since every day he notices more qualities about you.

Coming from someone who sees exchanging letters as romance (and just didn't declare himself that way out of pure denial), any gesture of affection that is not in private is seen by him as a libidinous act, so regardless of what you do, the result always has the potential to be hilarious or adorable, either way, his reaction will provide free entertainment. Any physical touch you have in public (or in private) will leave him fanning himself or in shock, even if you are shy it won't make a difference, since just touching pinky to pinky, or your shoulders together will have him screaming not just internally and trying to hide his redness.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #deuce spade x reader #ace trapolla x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #epel felmier x reader #jack howl x reader #twst fluff

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labyrinthcat · 8 months

Text

This connection feel so meaningful to me. We literally think and do little things at the same time, and have an impact on each other I have never encountered before. I’ve already inspired him to pursue tech once again (specifically cybersecurity like me!), helped him with his cocktail video editing a little, had a photographer give him a beautiful headshot he can post, took him on an adventure, etc.

He’s inspired my DJing, my fitness, my eating habits, boosted my confidence, etc.

I had absolutely zero expectations meeting him, and already feel like he’s helped me so much in my life in the most unconventional ways possible. No fancy, expensive dates or “flexing” needed.

From the moment I met him I felt so comfortable, safe, and like I could truly be myself with him. I know he has an impact on women like that though, as I know I do myself with men. Yet it was like I’d already known him, despite us just meeting. (Perhaps my metadata isn’t always so sinister after all?)

It’s like I was meant to meet him at this exact moment. The coincidences of us meeting, how we were both raised, where we grew up, our sense of humor, politics, compatibility, everything feels so… perfectly aligned.

He brings to the surface wounds I didn’t even know I still had within me, in a way I’m able to recognize and understand about myself to become a better person. He’s helping me see the world from another way I never saw before. He’s helping me become… myself… again.

I see all of the things I love about myself within him too. He lives such an abundant, content life, and I adore everything about him so much. I want to spend all the time in the world with him, and deeply miss him anytime we’re apart.

Every time our skin touches it feels unexplainable. The simplest touch or look in his eyes feels deeply intense. He’s a work of art. A muse. Every angle, every expression, every emotion, he’s beautiful. Not a moment goes by where he’s not on my mind.

I want to worship him. I want to protect him. I want to make love to him. I want to make him happy. I want to bring him peace. I want to make him my king.

#I think I’m in love #is this love #is it love or obsession #am I in love #love #dating #true love #twin flame #soulmate #soulmates

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