#spoon theory has helped me understand

[bella-but-not-hadid444]

i have like 5 spoons today and making dinner is going to take at least 3 spoons. but if i don’t eat dinner i think i’m going to faint or maybe throw up. i cant even walk up my two flights of stairs without almost collapsing. i haven’t eaten in 24 hours (which isn’t even that long tbh) but i don’t want to break my fast, and just the thought of eating food makes me feel even more sick. god i fucking hate life. please someone volunteer to kill me. i’ll pay u /hj

#spoon theory #autism #tw ed #vent post #spoon theory has helped me understand how to manage my energy a bit better #i think i’ve been experiencing autistic burnout for the past 16 years of my life

[invisiblerhythmcat]

well, my partner reached out

and now I feel like a terrible, awful person

and I fucking hate everything

#i don't even know anymore #i just see all these conversations about how great relationships between disabled people are #because people have different abilities and can fill in the gaps #and everyone understand each other #but my experience is that whoever has more ability to ignore their needs is the one who fills in the gaps #and so it's always me just doing more and more #to the point that spoon theory and mention of spoons has become a trigger #because the minute someone says they don't have enough spoons usually means I have to do more things #while constantly operating on negative energy #but it's good! because I can do it and the other person can't so we're helping each other! #and then when I get out of the situation and start doing things that are good for me #i feel guilty #because i know they're still struggling and now I'm not helping them #so it's all my fault for taking care of myself instead of taking care of them #which clearly i was able to do even if it sucked #alsdjfhadslkfja #fuck everything i want a nap

[canyourfavesurvivecastledracula]

You answered Patrick Trougton's Second Doctor and I 100% agree he's probably the best shot, but do you think there are any incarnations of the Doctor who wouldn't survive Castle Dracula?

The First Doctor is the most likely, and would probably have his heart give out a la Tenth Planet during the escape attempt (being the least equipped for free climbing and general stress), and I think being forced to regenerate counts as 'not surviving' even if he'd then be able to get away.

The Fourth Doctor did well when he faced Vampires, but I also think he has the particular best ability to get on Dracula's nerves which probably isn't helping him; the Seventh Doctor definitely came on overcomplicated manipulative scheme that experiences a serious backfire/complication halfway through, which might make the lack of a companion an issue; the Eighth Doctor is the most likely to get hypnotized (and probably some amnesia lbr) although he's ; but I don't know if any of these would be enough to get over their general Doctor-iness winning the day.

Also to take into account is the fact that Faction Paradox implies the Doctor is in fact a Great Vampire (I promise this is a theory that makes sense but I admit recognizing the words 'Faction Paradox' is already a sign you're in too deep) but I do not think this actually changes anything re: ability to survive or be killed by Dracula.

The Faction Paradox does WHAT

Nope never mind never mind nope don't wanna know Faction Paradox can stay over in their oxbow reality. I used up my capacity for unhinged on Moby Dick. (hashtag: just Balazar things)

See the First Doctor brings combines the youthful energy of a wide eyed solicitor with the insane grandpa approach of a corn-addled dutch polymath. I think he'd be okay so long as he hadn't been Time Destructed earlier that week. He would say things like "you're not Count Dracula, look at that ridiculous mustache!" (Recall he did meet Count Dracula inside the human psyche that one time). He'd make him so mad. Old Man Violence aaaaaaand loving it (hoo hoo hee hee ha ha!)

I want to say the Doctor will have the hardest time while he's in his celery phase, but what I might actually mean is that he's got so much practice at exactly this. The Fifth Doctor is so good at being imprisoned places. Clinging to the sides of things while missing a third of his blood is practically his speciality. And he does have that "You're not gonna STOP ME NOW" drive that served our baby lawyer so we'll.

By the time he graduates up to spoons he's objectively scarier than Dracula. He might not survive, but if he doesn't it's a part of some massive Thanatos Gambit he's pulling that doesn't end well for anyone.

I don't have a good read on the cooler Baker Doctor about this question, but I think Dracula would want him dead so badly. SO badly. He makes everyone so mad. Would he be able to pull it off? I think... I think he gets drinked if he's Davison (who wouldn't take a little sippy sip out of golden retriever guy) and partially turned if he's Baker (and anyone can see immediately that that was a mistake).

Mmmmmmmmm oh the McGann Doctor. I think that might be our winner. If we stick to the TV continuity all he knows how to do is die. My understanding of the audios is that that only gets worse somehow. But I still feel strongly that if you stick your teeth into Paul McGann you're going to bite off more than you can chew.

Ah lets put it to a vote. It's Doctor Who, I am sure people have OPINIONS. We only get twelve options so I am going to exclude Patrick Troughton as answered here and Tom Baker as answered by canon. Oh and I guess I'll drop McCoy as an outlier who should not have been counted.

#doctor who #Michael Jayston and Jo Martin ommitted for space and narrative distinction #aliens #tricksters and weirdos #spacemen

[copperbadge]

Sam, how did you find your therapist and build such a good working relationship? Every attempt I’ve made at therapy seems to fizzle out after a few months… and no therapist has ever understood the RSD aspect of my ADHD, which makes it all feel a little worse every time I try.

I mean, I think really we're still building it -- I haven't had her more than a couple of months and functionally it's been an every-two-weeks situation most of the time because we keep having to move/cancel. I don't know that I can really speak intelligently to building a relationship with a therapist because this is the first time I've ever done it where I was an adult and in control. As for finding one...

Chicago has a group called Clarity Clinic, which is like a WeWork for mental health professionals -- they offer scheduling, billing, and IT/office space to local people who I think are mostly independent operators otherwise. They have a directory that is highly filterable, so I found my psychiatrist there by filtering to stuff like Adult ADHD and medication management. He's great, but he didn't want to be my therapist and I didn't want him to. When I decided on therapy, I asked him if he knew anyone he could recommend, since he knew what my deal was in terms of personality, behavior, etc.

So he gave me a couple of names of fellow Clarity Clinic folks and I had a look on the website and chose the one that sounded like she'd get on best with me. I think I struck it lucky to be honest -- she's young (compared to me) and has ADHD, and she's very familiar with disability discourse, spoon theory, etc, even fandom to an extent. If I were to go looking today I might look more at therapists who specialize in twice-exceptional individuals, but she's good enough with what I'm aiming at that I don't want to change.

So the best advice I have is if you're being treated for other stuff by someone you trust I'd ask them, but also look for someone experienced with adult ADHD, and I'd look for someone on the younger side who's more likely to be understanding of neurodivergent needs. (I also recommend filtering to queer-friendly therapists if you can; I didn't necessarily need that but it means they're likely to be generally accepting and probably have more liberal politics. With the caveat that in shady places like BetterHealth, "LGBTQIA" counselors are sometimes homophobic creeps with an axe to grind.)

Building the relationship has taken proactivity on my part -- ensuring that I always have an appointment on the books (we book out about six weeks in advance now, because we know one of us will likely need to cancel/rebook at times), making sure that I have either an aim for treatment or at least something to talk about, etc. I think in your case probably having a list of things you want to deal with, so that you can check some boxes up top, might help.

I would definitely open with "I have ADHD and I need help with [aspects of that]; I also have RSD and I need to work with someone who respects that diagnosis and understands how to help with it." I went into mine saying "I have ADHD and I'm also struggling with some really big emotion, so I'm looking for help with those, but also like...I'm not really sure what therapy can offer. I've had some bad experiences in the past but they were all when I was a child, so I'm trying to explore some options." Her reaction was a combination of sympathy and a discussion of the kinds of things we might work on, which helped a great deal.

But yeah, I think it starts with establishing right from the jump what you want and need, and then spending time making sure that you both stay on top of that until you find a rhythm. We're still finding our rhythm, but it's getting easier as I'm learning to be clearer about what I want and more comfortable with being a participant instead of someone therapy just happens to.

#therapy #sam has adhd

[tibbythetiger]

Hello, hello!! I’m back! I went and finally got to see the film in theaters (the first two times I watched it on Peacock)! I’m going to have a  direct continuation of my previous post!!

I feel like Mike and Ness get really close after the events of the movie. Like many people already HC, I think Ness is really invested in the mystery of Freddy’s. So when Mike suddenly quits and is literally ripped to shreds with Vanessa fucked up in the hospital, his theory senses are tingling. He doesn’t try to push Mike or Abby, even though it’s killing him to not know what is going on. While Mike is desperate to find a new job, he’s pretty much out of babysitters for Abby at this point. With Max dead, his Aunt out of commission, and Vanessa in the hospital, Ness graciously stands in for the others and ends up keeping Abby with him at the diner while Mike is job-hopping. 

Also, given the attack on their Aunt, they can’t stay in their house for a few weeks. Ness offers his tiny apartment to share, which prompts Ness and Mike to share a room, and well, after one night Mike and Ness both insist on sleeping on the floor, a bed as well. It’s super cute and domestic and it makes Mike yearn for a life like this. But, he’s still not quite ready to make a move on Ness; mostly because he’s still a little freshly traumatized by the events that just happened, but also because homeboy’s self-esteem is non-existent. Ness is still head over heels for Mike, but is trying to tone it down for the time being so he doesn’t freak Mike out. However, after about two weeks, when Abby crawls into bed with them both after a nightmare, Mike finally breaks down and tells Ness about what happened at Freddy’s.  He’s surprised when Ness just believes him. 

Once the bunny (ha) is out of the hat, Mike’s walls crumble a little bit more. Ness decides that this is the best time, and decides to plan a really cute night for the three of them. He makes them dinner and makes sure he has Abby and Mike’s favorite movies. It all goes fairly smoothly, Abby does end up eating most of her dinner, but Mike falls asleep part way through the first movie, and Ness ends up putting Abby to bed. When he’s in the hallway on his way back to Mike, he finds Mike there looking at him with a soft smile and he just leans in and kisses him. 

After that, they don’t really talk about it, but they’re just together from there. They’re not super out when they’re in public (mostly because it’s 2000, and we’re assuming this takes place in a mid-western state), but Abby understands that they’re together now. Nothing huge really changes between Mike and Ness, for the most part things stay the same. Ness still helps with Abby, they still have their lil movie/TV-watching sessions after Abby goes to bed. Where they used to awkwardly stay on opposite ends of the couch, they are cuddling now. (I agree with whoever said Mike is the little spoon because YES) It’s little kisses in the morning, holding hands when they’re able to get Abby from school together in the afternoons. 

Eventually, though Abby and Mike do move back into their house, this is mostly because, with Mike’s custody and house checks, they need to have more space in order to not tip off CPS that they’re gay. (Again, just basing this off the time period and the area we’re presuming this in, I could see the state using that against Mike) Ness still spends most nights at the house, and he has a toothbrush and drawer in Mike’s room.  

This is all I have for now!! Also, I’m not sure if I want their Aunt to be dead or just, have been attacked by Golden Freddy. I feel like it could have gone either way in the movie, and I think that it would probably make more sense for her to just be dead. I’m going to try and write more general HCs for these two tomorrow! Again, if someone wants to write this out as an actual fic, please feel free to do so! Just be sure to tag me so I can make sure I can read your work!

#mike x ness #securitywaiter #dreamtheory #fnaf ness #ness the waiter #mike schmidt

[blurredcolour]

Heyy!! I would do anything, and I mean ANYTHING for some John Brady domestic headcanons with a chronically ill reader? 🤍🤍

Nonny this ask is so very lovely and I’ve interpreted it as reader and Brady in a relationship but please let me know if you were hoping for something different!! 💙

Cut for length, no real warnings aside from references to Catholicism and spoon theory

John Brady is the kind of man who takes oaths and vows very seriously - I mean he volunteered for the Army Air Force and went overseas to bomb occupied Europe, they are more than just words to him

So he very much meant “for better or for worse” and “in sickness AND in health”

There is no question of spending his life with you, whether you come to the relationship with your illness or receive the diagnosis later on. You are his person and he is undeterred by the fact that this may come with some complications or difficulties

Hyper vigilant for any and all of your needs - present, imminent, perceived, potential or otherwise

Seems to thrive on memorizing your catalogue of triggers and symptoms and remedies. At times you may wonder how he has space in his head for anything else.

There would probably have to be some negotiation at first, his desire to keep you safe and comfortable feeling restrictive and overbearing. Sometimes you want to do things that cost a lot of spoons and have a lot of consequences. Sometimes these opportunities or events are worth the costs

John will have to have that explained to him because he cannot bear to see you suffer, so it is difficult for him to wrap his head around why you would knowingly put yourself in a position that will result in pain for the sake of enjoyment. It might help to bring up his flying adventures to illustrate your point.

I still don’t see him entirely understanding it but he will nonetheless respect your decision, now that he knows you are making a choice rather than simply overextending yourself carelessly, and be all the more supportive through the inevitable low that follows

He will still pull the plug, however, if you’re actually putting yourself in danger

More than happy to be the reason you leave anywhere early

“Have an early day at the office tomorrow” or “big project coming up.” It is NEVER because you’re feeling overwhelmed or unwell.

Practically an encyclopedia when it comes to your medications, specialists, and recent appointments. Does his best to attend all of them with you, colouring in the medical history when you look at him for specifics. If for some reason he’s not able to accompany you, he sends you with a list of information and helps you prep

Juggles being the primary income earner, cook, house keeper, and caregiver without complaint

In fact he is far too silent about it, particularly the first period where he literally tries to manage it all to his self-exacting level of perfection

Winds up incapacitated in bed beside you and there is another stern talk about realistic expectations

After a lot of trial and error the pair of you manage to find a very comfortable way of life, dealing with flare-ups as needed, easily pivoting to quiet nights in as required

I mean good for you for picking this man to make a home with, he’s not out there seeking the night life and bright lights anyway. A jazz record and cozy blanket and the person he loves is all he could ever ask for in an evening anyway

#answered asks #ladies who brady #john brady #thinking brady thoughts

[yannaryartside]

Okay. I have doubts and theories.

On Sydney's health issues theory.

So, the spoon theory, the 3 swords heart tattoo, the cabinet full of medicines, the fact that her mom died of lupus, which is a condition that has no cure, you can live with it if managed with medication but makes you more in danger of infections, so you have to live with a certain self-restraint. There may be clues on the show about Sydney dealing with something very serious.

In this scene, in 2x10, many of us thought Sydney was actually reflecting on her fluctuating health. I agree with all of the possible evidence of a serious health issue, but I would like to present my doubts on some parts of that narrative, presented in this scene.

Gifs by riickgrimes.

The first time I saw this scene I thought, "OK, she is saying this because she has never found a boost in the industry, and took a solo adventure and failed, so she wonders if she is even made for all of this. She thinks that the Bear, it's people, and Carmy, is the only environment where she can show what she is made of, and, in her own words, "make a difference." So she is willing to go all or nothing in this one. That is an option for thinking outside the aforementioned context.

Now, if this was a scene about a daughter confessing to his father how she thinks about her mortality because she is sick, it doesn't feel right. Foreshadowing can give clues, but the scenes those clues take place still have to make scenes within a context we may not know about. When we figure out the truth in the future, this scene has to make sense looking back.

So, why is Emmanuel not extremely shaken by his daughter's comment? this is a man who also lost his wife to illness, why doesn't he jump off his chair and hug her and say "Don't worry about it darling, it won't happen, the doctor said..." Sydney (in the way we are interpreting the scene) may have as well said, "Yes Dad, I know I could die tomorrow," and that is quite a statement, as I said, people can live long lives with lupus, so why is she assuming that's not her case? that is a particularly terrifying thought.

So if she is dealing with something that she is afraid will kill her tomorrow, and is talking to her dad about it, I really doubt any father would have reacted in such a nonchalant way, he is calm, and we don't see the concern in his face, or a shadow of restrain because he doesn't want to look worried or afraid. There is a possibility of this scene being incomplete, and editing was done to hide Emmanuel's true reactions from the audience, but I think is unlikely.

Won't Emmanuel be understanding of this tendency of "making everything the thing" if is because of a dangerous illness? I don't think he would even dare to question it. I know at the beginning we see him worried about her overworking, but she has described to him her poor eating habits, and explained why she needed to work so hard. Won't he be more firm about asking her to take her of herself if her heath was that fragile?

So, I would like to present some alternative theories, even though some of them are keep me up at night:

She is sick, but she hasn't told anybody, not even her dad. It may be lupus or another thing. This one scares me a lot, especially if we consider the fact that Sydney has displayed a tendency of not asking for help and running away from forms of affection.

The spoon theory may apply to executive dysfunction related to trauma: we don't know what happened to her, so I would like to keep this option open.

She doesn't know that she is sick: she says "I don't know if I could do another one" in the sense of not making it in the industry, but this is actually a foreshadowing of not knowing her time is running short (please no). I definitely believe that she will give us a scare, some issue that makes her go close to death, she pulls through it, of course, but I see it coming. If it happens right after Carmy and Sydney have "the fight" omg...

She may have survived an accident: I like this one because it could explain the cabinet full of meds, maybe she is still recovering from the damage made to her body, muscle pain, heart-related stuff, who knows. But it also explains her being so conscious about how fragile life is even without any dangerous health issues. She lives all day like it's a gift, not a guarantee, this could explain her "sense of urgency" presented since season 1 (she is anxious to make it on the menu, etc.). This is not a healthy mindset, of course, it's a response to trauma, hence his father not pressing about the comment too much. I also like this idea thematically as well, the idea that a person who thinks life is too fragile will find a partner in a man who lost his brother to suicide, and is probably suicidal himself ("You should be dead", echoing in Carmy's flashbacks, we his chef didn't say that, that's all in Carmy's head). It's like they will be screaming to each other, "Please hold on, to life, to me," Carmy will work on his issues because he wants a life with Sydney and their restaurant's family, and Sydney has found in Carmy's company a new direction in her life, and partnership.

#making theories so I can sleep at night #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #sydcarmy #emmanuel adamu #Sydney adamu theory #carmy x sydney #spoon theory #the bear #the bear fx #carmen berzatto #sydney x carmy #the bear meta #carmy the bear

[cerise-on-top]

Hii!! :3

First of all, LOVE YOUR BLOG!!Your writing is so good!! May I request Rodolfo Parra x reader who is touchy? Like, they won’t if he doesn’t like it, but it’s a safety thing, like him being taller than me (even not by much) makes me secure, feeling his arm muscles to know he can protect me, holding his hand until he pulls away.

thank you!! :3

I don't think you understand the extent to which my Rodolfo is touch starved, he really wants a hug, and the ones that Alejandro give him don't really cut it, at all! Mans wants to be hugged and cuddled, so this is sort of just ideal to him!

Rodolfo with a Touchy!Reader

In all honesty, he’s hit the jackpot with you if you’re a touchy person. While he may not initiate too much physical touch himself in fear of coming off as clingy and annoying, he’s actually so touch starved, it’s unreal. If there weren’t some mental barriers there, then he’d absolutely love to touch and cuddle you whenever he could. Would love to kiss you, would love to hold you. He’s one of the biggest cuddlebugs on the planet in theory, but in practice he’s holding himself back due to the aforementioned reasons. However, he has no qualms whatsoever if you’re the one touching him, in fact, he’ll revel in it for as long as he can, or until you pull away. He gets a bit sad when you do, but he knows you’ve got better things to do as well from time to time.

Please do hold onto his arm when you’re walking somewhere, it makes him feel like the stronger guy out of the two of you. He just wants to make sure you feel safe and sound with him, and if he can accomplish just that? Heaven on earth, literally. Hold his hand, he’ll squeeze it every once in a while to make sure you know he’s still with you. You can even give him a hug in public where everyone can see you, he’ll shield you with his entire body and make sure to catch every single bullet that could come flying at you. While he’s not too big of a fan of kissing in public, thinking such a thing should be reserved for when the two of you are alone, he loves feeling your lips on him just about anywhere. Wanna kiss his cheek? His forehead? His lips? He’ll give you twice as many kisses back.

From time to time he might get a bit overwhelmed with all the affection, that’s when you might want to tone it down a bit. When he’s just downright pissed at someone or something, he’s less prone to being cuddly, but he’ll calm down eventually. Distract him, help him, give him some loving words, and he’ll be back to his usual self. Once he’s calmed down he might be a bit tired from all those emotions, so he might want some cuddles. Likely won’t ask for them, but he knows you’re always eager to cuddle him anyway.

While he does love holding something, or someone, when relaxing, nothing, to him, feels better than being held. That’s his guilty pleasure, being the little spoon, but you won’t catch him dead admitting that. In fact, he won’t even hint at wanting to be such, but he would absolutely never turn you down when you offer. Feeling your warmth against his back is nice, doesn’t matter if you can wrap yourself around him entirely or if you’re a backpack, he just wants to feel protected for once too. However, if something ever were to happen, then he’s the first to jump into action and beat the living daylights out of anyone who dares to intrude on such a sacred moment.

Hell, you can even put your head in his lap. He’ll lovingly stroke your back or your head, looking completely lovestruck at you. It’s a major sign of trust for him, especially when you’re slowly dozing off. Won’t move an inch if you do and will just continue to pat your hair, staring at you instead of the tv monitor. If you want, you can also adjust him so his head is in your lap instead, he would never say no to that either. In fact, if he’s comfortable enough, he might nuzzle into your hand, realize what he’s doing and get a bit embarrassed. He usually feels the need to be the big, strong man in your relationship, that he really shouldn’t be showing so much weakness, but how could he resist your tender, gentle touch when it’s right there? Showing you a glimpse of how touch starved he is is just about one of the most mortifying things out there, but he can’t help it. It simply feels so good.

He absolutely adores the fact he can make you feel safe. Again, he won’t really initiate much physical contact himself, but he will stand fairly close to you so you may, if you feel like it, just grab his hand and swing it around a bit as you’re walking around. You can lean into him, there’s a chance he might wrap an arm around you to make sure you won’t fall over. He loves that he can be your support system in a way that makes him happy as well. You get to touch him, he gets to be touched, it’s the most perfect symbiotic relationship out there.

At the end of the day, you both get to feel safe and sound with one another, because of your presence and because of your love. You protect each other and make sure the other is thriving, what thing in this world could possibly be more pure than that?

#cod #cod x reader #rodolfo parra #rodolfo parra x reader #I think I need Rodolfo to be real right about now #He has the cutest name I've ever heard and I want to give him a hug despite not being a touchy person myself #I would make him a marble cake and give it to him while it's still warm mans has been through way more than he should #Alejandro already appreciates this man to hell and back but more love definitely wouldn't hurt #I just really love the idea of Alejandro and Rodolfo being very very close #supporting each other as well as they could #and Alejandro would be so happy to see Rodolfo have an s/o who takes good care of him and makes sure he's thriving #he'd strive to be among their best friends instantly because he cares this deeply about Rodolfo #they both just want to see him smile and it's one of the purest things since Rodolfo is usually so stressed out. he deserves a break #los vaqueros are good I think I can appreciate the more ever since I started writing. I did not care this deeply for them while watching mw #wish they were real so I could befriend them hm #oh well thank you for the request! I'm always down for cute and fluffy stuff like that so this is a real treat!

[missmonsters2]

Here You Are | Chapter 2

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x SingleMom!Reader

Summary: Natasha likes to think she's prepared for anything to happen. Nothing could ever surprise her because she was always prepared for the worst. But no one warned that she was sorely lacking in preparing for the best when it came to you.

Please do not repost/translate anywhere. Reblogs/Comments are much welcomed ♥

Series Masterlist || Library Blog

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications <3

Warnings: sorry you gave yourself a bad nickname for Tony to use against you

Count: ~4.1k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"I just—" Natasha sighs. "I just don't understand why I'm the one who has to stay with her."

"You don't want to?" Bucky asks as he licks the remnants of ice cream off his spoon. 

"No, it's not that," Natasha shrugs. "I just—I don't know. She seems really uncomfortable around me."

"I think she's uncomfortable around all of us," Steve sighs. "I don't blame her. Whoever she's running from, it seems serious and she won't even talk about it."

"I think she likes me," Tony chimes in. "I mean, I'm definitely her favorite...or at least Anya's favorite."

Natasha snorts. "No, I think Bucky's her favorite."

"Or his arm," Tony grumbles. "What's so cool about his metal arm? I have a literal arc reactor in my chest."

Bucky merely has a shit-eating grin on his face as he continues to eat ice cream. 

"Anyway, it has to be you for this to work," Tony changes the subject. "Now that a whole hospital was blown up, she doesn't really have a choice about bringing this guy in. It's Avengers business now and just because she won't go after them doesn't mean they're just going to stop going after her."

Tony walks to the counter and pours himself a cup of coffee, measuring out a triple shot of espresso and ensuring it has an inhumane amount of sugar.

Natasha scrunches her nose in disgust at his cup. "That doesn't explain why it has to be me."

"Stop playing stupid, Romanoff," Tony wags his finger at her as he takes a long sip. "It's embarrassing."

"What?" Natasha mutters, but Bucky's just grinning again.

"Other than ignoring the fact that everyone else here has their own mission, you can't ignore that Anya looks the most like you. That dark reddish brown hair, her nose, and the shape of her eyes? You hiding a secret family like Clint is from us? Best friends don't have to do everything together, you know." Tony narrows his eyes in suspicion. 

"Ha-ha," Natasha sarcastically laughs. "You know, that would totally be a plausible theory if I had a uterus. But I don't—because as you all should know—the lovely Red Room gives you an involuntary—"

"All right!" Tony cuts in, putting his hand up to signal Natasha to stop. "God, I hate when you use that one."

"And it never fails to win," Natasha smirks. "Hit me up when you have a comeback for that one, Stark."

"Whatever, Romanoff. You're still going to witness protection with her," Tony grins and starts throwing jazz hands. "Congrats on your new wife and child!"

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You stare at the house outside as you hold Anya's hand. It was much more modest than what you had lived in before. In a way, you kind of liked how this cookie-cutter house on the edge of the street blended right in. 

There wasn't much you had to carry into the house with the Avengers disguising themselves as movers and helping you as they checked everything out. 

The move was when it became dark out to prevent too many nosy neighbors from coming up to introduce themselves. 

"Are you tired?" You grin as Anya lets out a big yawn, swaying slightly on the couch.

Anya thought about denying it, but for once, she didn't need to push herself to stay awake. She nods, and you press a quick kiss to her temple before you pick her up.

You were cleared from the hospital a few days ago, fully recovering before you left to live in this new house—new life that Tony Stark had built for you.

"I'm just going to get her ready for bed," you look over to Natasha, who had been working on her laptop at the dining table.

"Oh, yes, of course," Natasha says stiffly. "Let me know if you need anything."

You only nod before leaving towards the bathroom. The entire day had an awkward atmosphere, and the majority of it was your own fault. You couldn't help but be stiff around the redhead.

You were nothing but a liar—a fraud.

A coward.

All you did was probably put Natasha at risk too. 

You wonder what was going through Natasha's mind. You knew she was probably tasked with finding out more about who you were running from. 

A part of you wanted to spill everything, but you knew better. 

Everyone who knew died. 

Granted, if you were found, they were all going to die regardless.

But for every person who knew, Anya paid the price. So, you were never going to reveal who it was. If the Avengers figured it out on their own, that was their prerogative, but it wouldn't be because you helped.

You could offer nothing to stop this person. You had nothing to offer, and you knew it was your own fault it was that way. 

Helping Anya brush her teeth, you walk her towards your room and help her onto the bed. It was a three-bedroom house, but the third bedroom was to be used as an office space. If anyone visited, it would be strange to have three separate beds in the home. 

You and Anya would share a bed while Natasha had her own room. There had been a bit of a fight over who would get the master bedroom. Natasha insisted that you should have it, while you insisted she should have for having to stick out here to protect the two of you. 

In the end, Natasha won the battle, and you appreciate her tenacity.

You look at the time and find it wasn't as late as you thought. With it being winter, you sometimes forget that the sun sets at 4PM. It was 9PM now, and you did actually feel exhausted. 

Determined to have a better start to the day tomorrow, you got ready for bed and slipped in next to Anya.

The way her chest expanded and fell in slow rhythm was comforting. She was so small, yet you don't think anyone could be braver than her. 

What a remarkable child, and she was yours.

You brush her hair, and she stirs, only to settle on her side, snuggling into you. 

The safe sound of her breath and nothing else lulls you to sleep.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Natasha finds it difficult to remain asleep. She slips in and out of slumber every other hour, and it's making her irritated. Letting out a deep sigh, she turns on her back and stares at the ceiling. 

The house creaks as it expands and compresses with the changing temperature. She can hear shuffling and a light snore from the room next to her if she's quiet enough. But she can also hear shuffling in the kitchen. Natasha sits up, sliding her hand under her pillow and grabbing hold of her gun. Clicking off the safety as she quietly leaves her bed, she opens the door silently. She remains slightly crouched as she walks against the wall. 

As the kitchen comes into view, she finds she can't see anything. So, Natasha stands taller and quickly puts her gun behind her back when she sees Anya slowly pushing the dining room chair towards the counter.

Natasha should really say something; she knows she should. But a part of her can't help but watch the young girl so dedicated push the chair inch by inch to avoid scraping it against the floor. When it's where Anya wants, she climbs up the chair, trying to open the cabinet.

"Anya, why are you up?" Natasha decides to interrupt. The young girl jumps slightly and turns around to look at Natasha sheepishly. 

"Oh, hi, Nat," Anya quietly says, her cheeks warm. "I can't sleep. Mom says she used to drink a glass of warm milk to go to bed. I want to try it too."

"And why isn't your mom with you?" Nat quirks her brow.

Anya fidgets on the chair, pinching her pajama shirt. "Mom's tired. She doesn't get a lot of rest, so I want to let her sleep."

Something in Natasha's heart clenches, and she lets a deep sigh out of her nose to relieve the pressure. 

"Alright, how about I help you then?" Natasha offers with a small smile. 

Anya seems to contemplate it before she nods. "Yes, please."

Natasha carefully makes her way over, tucking her gun into her pants at her back before she makes her way around to Anya. She opens the cabinet, grabs a mug, and grabs milk from the fridge and honey from a basket on the counter. 

"You know, if you don't want to wake up your mom, you are always welcome to come to my room," Natasha suggests. 

"You don't sleep?" Anya tilts her head to the side. 

"I also have trouble sleeping at night but I probably don't need as much sleep as the two of you," Natasha explains simply. 

"You should make a glass of warm milk too. We can drink it together," Anya smiles.

Natasha chuckles and moves to grab another glass. Anya doesn't say anything after, making Natasha wonder if the young girl is shy. She seems okay with talking to Natasha, but kids are usually much more chatty at this age. 

There is a moment where Natasha contemplates asking Anya about who you would be running from. Would it be her father? Mother? Is someone related to them?

The last words of that woman imitating the nurse make Natasha believe it was a romantic interest. 

"Cheers," Natasha holds her mug out towards Anya, who stares back at her curiously. 

"You clink glasses and say cheers when drinking with someone else," Natasha smiles, tilting her head at the young girl. 

"Why?" Anya asks. 

Natasha hums. "Good question. People have been doing it for so long. I think to show that we're wishing each other a good time."

Anya's mouth forms a little 'o', and she carefully touches her mug against Natasha's. "Cheers," she mumbles, thinking about how she wants to try cheering drinks with you too. 

Natasha drinks her milk slowly, observing Anya through the corner of her eyes. She feels reluctant to admit it, but Tony is right. Anya's reddish brown hair looks soft like Natasha's, and she can see the shape of their eyes and mouth are similar. 

But Natasha knows that whatever they were thinking—what she couldn't help but think for a moment—is not real. The red room made sure of it. 

So, Natasha starts to theorize who Anya's other parent could be. Tony had said Anya was definitely your match. So, whoever the other parent is would have to have genetic similarities to herself. She would have to look for an influential man with red hair, almond eyes, and thick lips. Or, if it was a woman, she would need to find clinics that did IVG procedures. 

Natasha internally sighs. The scope is still too wide, and she hopes she can get more information as time passes. 

Anya finishes her glass, letting out a yawn.

"Bedtime?" Natasha smiles, and Anya nods.

"I have to brush my teeth again. Mother doesn't like it if I don't brush my teeth," Anya mumbles sleepily. 

"Mother?" Natasha repeats. Anya has been calling you mom, so—

Anya rubs her face, trying to stay away as she slides off the chair and makes her way to the washroom. Natasha follows after, helping the young girl grab her toothbrush and toothpaste.

"Can you do it?" Natasha asks, remembering how you had helped her earlier.

But Anya nods and takes the toothbrush, diligently doing it herself. Natasha wonders if you just prefer to spoil Anya, not that she could blame you. 

"So," Natasha says quietly as Anya brushes her teeth, mentally counting in her head. "Does mother not like when you don't brush your teeth, or does mom not like it too?" It was a carefully worded question.

"I don't know," Anya says sleepily and a little gurgly with her mouth occupied. "Mom always helps me brush my teeth."

Natasha tries to ask more questions, but Anya doesn't seem to want to answer anymore. So, Natasha is left passing the young girl a cup with water in it before she walks Anya back to her room.

"G'night, Nat," Anya mumbles. "Thanks for helping."

"No problem," Natasha smiles. "Good night."

Standing alone in the dark hallway, Natasha is left thinking about what the young girl said. 

How is it that you always help Anya brush her teeth if someone was upset before if Anya hadn't? 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"You're going to be a good girl, right?" You softly encourage Anya, despite your furrowed brows. You were anxious but didn't want to show your daughter that.

Anya nods, pursing her lips to prevent herself from crying. 

"It'll be okay," you reassure her, brushing wisps of her hair out of her face. "I'm going to be back real quick. You'll hardly even have time to miss me."

"But I miss you already," Anya mumbles, and it's so cute that it pricks your heart as you hold her tiny little hands together. You kiss them and smile. 

"Me too, but I'm sure Natasha will play with you," you look over to the redheaded woman and give her a small smile. 

"Well, Tony has dropped off lots of coloring books and pencils. I'm sure it'll keep us busy," Natasha crouches down next to Anya. 

Anya nods and lets Natasha grab hold of her hand as the woman stands up. You put your coat on with gloves and a big scarf, and it engulfs half of your face, and Natasha finds herself staring.

Cute. 

"Alright!" Tony draws the attention to himself. "If we're as quick as Nikon says over here, we'll come back with some of the best hot chocolate."

Anya doesn't react as much as Tony hopes, but she does look curiously at him, and that's exciting enough.

"Nikon?" You quirk your brow. 

"Yeah, you know, like the camera because you have—"

"Creative," you say dryly as you cut him off. 

"I thought so," Tony smirks, ignoring your sarcasm. 

"I actually used to be called Psych in college," you say offhandedly. "I majored in criminal justice."

"Wait, Psych like the show—" Tony starts to say excitedly.

"Ooh," Natasha hisses pitifully for you. "You're going to regret revealing that.”

"Everyone except Anya has to call you Psych from now on. Anything else gets them a punch in the gut,” Tony exclaims.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Natasha sits on the couch, book in hand that she's stopped reading for quite some time. In front of her sits Anya on a cushion over the coffee table. The TV is on with old cartoons Natasha used to enjoy with Yelena. 

The faint sounds of pencils scratching against paper accompany the television, and Anya is dividing her attention between the TV curiously and whatever she is drawing. 

Anya had started with the coloring books but quickly grew tired of them before she moved on to drawing whatever she wanted on blank paper. There had been a couple of pictures she finished, and Natasha stared at them in scrutiny. 

They were all pictures of you. 

There are pictures of you sitting in the garden, cooking in the kitchen, in the dining room, or staring out the window. 

Natasha knows that you have definitely instructed Anya to not talk about your...wife?

Anya would seem to start drawing another person before scribbling it out and turning it into something else. But Natasha wonders why Anya hadn't drawn herself in any of the photos. 

"Aren't you going to draw yourself with mom?" Natasha asks as she closes her book and moves to join the young girl on the ground. She picks up some paper and pencils to help the young girl relax around her. 

"I am in them," Anya says simply as she shades in your hair color. They're outside the lines slightly, but Natasha is impressed by the work nonetheless.

"Oh?" Natasha furrows her brow. "Where? I don't see you."

"I'm watching mom."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Anya stares at Natasha with wonder in her eyes. She sits on the barstool at the counter, her little legs swinging back and forth. 

"Do you like your bread toasted?" Natasha asks. 

Anya nods. 

"How about the crust being cut off?"

Anya nods.

"Do you want jam?"

Anya nods. 

"Do you like it cut in half?"

Anya nods.

"Or left whole?"

Anya nods.

Natasha quirks her brow at the young girl.

"Are you just saying yes to everything? Do you even like all of these things?"

Anya fidgets with her fingers and shrugs. "I don't know. I haven't had it before. I'll eat whatever Nat thinks is good."

Natasha is taken aback. 

"You haven't eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before?" Natasha asks with a frown. When Natasha lived with Alexei, Melina, and Yelena, she would eat them almost daily for lunch. She was sure it was a common food for young children still developing their taste buds. 

The peanut butter sandwiches only stopped when Natasha returned to the Red Room. 

"So, what did you eat before at home?" Natasha asks casually, returning to making the sandwich. She cuts it in half and only puts jam on one half of the sandwich to see if Anya will like it.

Anya hums in thought. "Chicken or salmon with vegetables and potatoes. Sometimes spaghetti or steak."

"That's all?" Natasha asks.  

"Um," Anya frowns like she's being tested. "And salad."

"How about mac and cheese, chicken nuggets, pizza, burgers, fries, chips, or anything else like that?"

"Those are not good for you," Anya said gravely. "It will make you sick."

Natasha purses her lips, trying to not laugh at how serious the young girl looks. But Natasha also can't help but think it's sad Anya is missing out on such common foods other kids get to enjoy.

You don't seem like the type to be that strict on a diet because you had fed Anya M&Ms at the hospital. So, is it the other parent?

"But you had M&Ms before and you didn't get sick, did you?" Natasha points out.

Anya frowns again, thinking back before she shakes her head. "Mom eats M&Ms and she likes them and she's okay. M&Ms are okay."

Natasha can't help but chuckle then. What lovely logic. "I'm sure your mom has also eaten the same things I mentioned. She must like some of those things too. She's okay, isn't she?"

Anya is left thinking about what Natasha said, contemplating the logic. 

"So," Anya drags. "They're okay? They won't make you sick?"

"Maybe too much of it will," Natasha smiles. "But eating too much of one thing isn't good for all foods."

Anya merely nods, accepting Natasha's words. 

The peanut butter and partial jam sandwich is finished as Natasha places it in front of Anya, with no crust. She watches with amusement as Anya stares at it for a moment before carefully picking it up. She picks up the half that has peanut butter and jam and takes a small bite. There are a few careful chews, then a warm, excited smile. Anya takes a bigger bite, eating happily. 

"Do you like the jam?" Natasha asks, and Anya nods, so she fixes the other half of the sandwich while the young girl finishes what's in her hand. 

Natasha eats the leftover crust, scooping some of the remaining peanut butter on the knife. 

They eat quietly, and Natasha thinks it's rather peaceful, and it reminds her of the days when Yelena was so young and they were happy. But unlike Yelena, who was boisterous and playful, Anya was more like Natasha, curious but quiet. 

Natasha is about to say something else when she hears someone at the door before the keys jiggling, and it opens.

"Mom!" Anya smiles as she slides off the barstool, the sandwich still in hand as she runs to you.

Tony comes in after, suited down, and Natasha nods in greeting at him. 

"Hi, sweetpea," you smile as you crouch and open your arms. "Did you have fun? What's that you got in your hand?"

"Uh huh," Anya nods. "Nat drew with me and showed me pinky and the brain and the powerpuff girls." Then she brings the sandwich to your face. "Nat made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It's yummy. Have you had it before?"

You look over at Natasha for a moment before looking back. "I have. It is yummy."

It's like your words confirm something for Anya as she bites her bottom lip for a moment before releasing it. 

"Can I please choose what to eat for dinner?" Anya asks as politely as she can. 

"Of course," you smile, kissing her cheek before brushing off some of the crumbs on Anya's lips. "What do you want to have?"

"Um," Anya looks up for a second. "Mac and cheese, chicken nuggets, pizza, burgers, fries, chips, or anything else like that."

Natasha is surprised by Anya perfectly recalling what she had listed and said. 

You quirk your brow at the young girl, looking at Natasha for a brief moment. The other woman shrugs with a smile, and you return it. 

"Alright, how about pizza? I'm pretty sure Tony will be happy to get us some since he's insisting to stay for dinner today," you turn your head back to look at him with a look. 

"It's Uncle Tony, and I will happily order some even though burgers are better," Tony nearly sticks his tongue out at you. 

"Burgers next time from Mr. Tony's favorite place," Anya says determinedly to appease Tony. 

"You drive a hard bargain, kid. Also, it's Uncle Tony. Uncle." 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The evening passes with lots of chatter and laughter. Anya is warming up to Tony a lot more, and Tony is eager to get back and rub it in Bucky's face. 

Anya claimed pizza was the best thing to ever exist, but Tony kept insisting the burgers next time would be better.

You hadn't said much during the evening, just smiling at the conversation and doting on Anya. Natasha joked and laughed along with Tony, but she couldn't stop watching you from the corner of her eye. 

There were so many questions just on the tip of her tongue that Natasha wanted to ask so badly.            

"So, how was it?" Natasha asks as she and Tony stand outside on the doorstep. "Did Y/—"

Tony glares at Natasha, and she rolls her eyes with a sigh. "Did Psych do okay out there?"

"It was insane," Tony replies quietly, adjusting his coat. "I've never seen someone with an eidetic memory like her. Most people who have it can usually only recall things for a brief period of time, and not in perfect detail. She's definitely got a photographic memory, maybe even perfect recall."

Tony looks back through the window to see you and Anya on the couch watching TV.

"You should've seen her out there. There was basically nothing left in the area. No footsteps or anything. Just banks of snow but she stared for two seconds before she started walking off in a direction. She just kept doing that until we encountered some bodies."

"Jeeze," Natasha huffed. "How did she react?"

"She didn't," Tony shrugged. "Not really. I think she expected them to be dead. I mean, there's really no means of shelter out there. She just asked if we could go home."

Natasha hums. 

"Did you find anything out?"

Natasha shrugs. "Not much. I think it was definitely a woman that she was seeing. Anya mentioned another woman who was her mother. But I don't know if Anya has a bio dad that's not in the picture or if she was created with IVG. If it's IVG, based on Anya's features and traits, I have to assume this woman in question was also a redhead."

"A redhead who looks like you," Tony smirks. "Can't be too many of you walking around in a position of power. Are you sure it’s not you?” 

Tony asks jokingly but Natasha answers seriously. “It can’t be. IVG was invented well after I left the Red Room. Not to mention children were considered a weakness. Also, Anya is only four, so it would’ve had to have been recent and I would definitely know if someone had used my cells after I left.”

Tony sighs. “Alright. So, a new mysterious, powerful redhead we have to find.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. "I don't think we're gonna find anything about this person publicly. We're gonna have to do some deep digging, but either way, we first have to find out how Anya was created."

"Perfect because nothing is ever easy for us," Tony sarcastically retorts. "Anything else?"

"Just some theories," Natasha shrugs.

"Share with the class," Tony says but then looks around. "Share with your classmate."

"Well," Natasha breathes. "I don't think Anya was allowed to be near Psych. Possibly she didn't even know about Anya until recently."

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanov imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #black widow imagine #black widow x reader #Avengers #Avengers AU #avengers imagine #avengers reader insert #marvel reader insert #mm: my fics

[pleucas]

Would you ever consider doing a colouring tutorial?

Heyooooooo

I've done a coloring post before (a few months prior), but somehow, my coloring/painting process has changed a lot since then lol. I'll give a breakdown of my process (and go into specifics on coloring) here, but please do take it with a grain (or a spoonful) of salt... I'm still very much learning, and though you can use my process as a guide, experiment on your own to find what works for you! This post got a little long I'm ngl so. open at ur own risk. it's really just me rambling and being a bit too pretentious for my own good

using my recent post as an example, my process is basically just:

first i get a clean sketch (after many hours of pain finding detailed references lol), not gonna go into that since you asked abt coloring

then i immediately go to block out shapes over the sketch. For big paintings, I don't do lineart (because i find that it eliminates a lot of depth that can be achieved with shapes and shading) — for smaller sketches and pieces, i'll do lineart tho.

I started darker to lighter in this painting because I knew I wanted harsh light. For me, it's a lot easier to project "additions" onto a surface — ie, if there's a harsh light, that's the addition vs. a shadow in neutral lighting as the addition. dunno if that makes sense, but breaking tones down like that helps me understand how i want to chronologically color smth and choose my bases:

for example, since I knew I was gonna have harsh light here, I felt comfortable with just getting the tones for my shadows down immediately. There won't be many midtones due to how extreme I saw it to be, so there was no point in finding a neutral base tone.

how i choose colors varies from painting to painting, but for this one, I decided to lean purple-blue because skk are just one of many red and blue gays (same reason why most of my other skk works lean red-blue-purple), and also because I knew I wanted my light to be on the warmer side — thus, the shadows and unlit areas will be cooler.

i also wanted it to recede (to emphasize the perspective and for depth), so for the base colors, i made them cooler + darker as they went back. This wasn't as clear in the finished product, but i think it did a good job at reminding me the vibe i wanted as i rendered

By how much I've written for this step, I guess you can assume that it's the step I put the most consideration into — and you'd be right. I think base colors really determine the vibe, and it sets you up for the rest of the painting. Sometimes I have to color adjust my bases over and over (with hue adjustments, color balance, curves) until I'm satisfied. I think that satisfaction is obtained w/ more ease as I've painted more and more. Alongside the sketch, this step takes me quite a while. Sometimes it's fun to mess with really wild color combos, but that's another topic.

Then I block out the lighting, which is probably the most drastic step but also somehow the quickest for me. Once you understand how light affects color (warmth, tone, etc) and you gain confidence with it, blocking out values in relation to base tones isn't too hard. That ofc takes practice and a lot of fundamental understanding of Shapes & Colors but there's a lot of stuff online abt the theory specifically from professionals, so I'm not gonna lecture y'all as a fanartist for glorified literary author rpf

then i just start rendering, layer by layer. above is a screenshot i took mid-rendering; at this point, dazai's clothes were basically done but I later worked on the face + hair more and textured the tie.

I try to do the stuff I want people to focus on first, because at least for me, that's when I have the most energy to make smth detailed — the more detailed an area is, the more naturally drawn you eye is to it (this is because the brain likes areas of high contrast, and details are entirely founded on the placement of contrast).

My art has never been too extremely detailed — I enjoy flatter + bigger shapes, styled texturing and silly patterns, but I find that "detail" still translates into "effort". When I look at paintings, it's very clear where someone put most of their effort — and when I can't tell, then I know I have a very confident + experienced artist who can effectively distribute their workflow (goalz). So yeah, I render in my very silly poly style but still keep that in mind.

eventually, I finish rendering. This part is kinda a blur tbh, and it always varies from artist to artist. I'd say the things I keep in mind are:

shape + form (making sure my rendering doesn't mess up gesture or vibes, and that it keeps things loose)

composition (making sure i don't overdo areas where i don't want people to focus on)

and tone (ensuring that the depth and believability of the scene stays intact so that my non-realistic style can work)

I added the bullet because i wanted a reason for the goofy expressions, just a bit more pizazz so that skk's drama was also believable lol. also visual storytelling or whtv (but that's not something i usually prioritize, it mostly comes with the concept and sketch).

I also added the bullet for some compositional spice. the dark shadow on dazai's arms was there to also emphasize the warped perspective, but it also left a weirdly empty vibe that I didn't enjoy lol. So yeah, bullet! and ofc my favorite, weird flowy line pattern thing that doesn't adhere to the laws of physics

I think a lot of my traditional painting experience leaks into my digital painting practice. I don't like lineart too much, and since I mainly work with acrylic, I rely on opaque color blocks, layering, and "carving out" shapes. probably explains my affinity for solid flat brushes in Procreate,,,,, but yeah. It's a little all over the place, but at its core, it's a lot of technical stuff mixed with habits after finding what works for me.

Dunno if this helps at all, or if it was interesting lolol. Thank you for reading until the end if you're still here! I appreciate it. I'm still learning but I've definitely learned a lot since I started this blog so it's exciting to track my progress. I'm sure I'll see this in a few years and laugh lolol.

#pleuart #pleucas #casasks #sorry it got a little long #i did Not proofread this so there will prolly be a bunch of typos. just shout at me i'll fix it

[indelibleevidence]

People not from the UK are making posts congratulating us on our good fortune that Johnson has resigned, and lamenting that their democracy doesn't work as well as ours. I need you guys to understand some things:

He's got about three months left in government before he goes. He only resigned because people weren't going to stop walking out until he did, not because he admits he was wrong and deserves to go. He might use those three months to fuck up as much as possible before he leaves, because he resents that he has to go. Sure, he SAYS no new policies before he fucks off, but he also said he didn't know Chris Pincher was a serial groper, and that he didn't flout the rules during lockdown, and a million other things he's lied about to Parliament's face.

During these three months, he gets to have a big wedding party at the Prime Minister's estate, to make up for the one he supposedly didn't get to have during lockdown. Is this being paid for with public money? It really wouldn't surprise me if the answer was yes.

A lot of the people in his party want him out right now, but there's literally no system in place to force him out, because he narrowly won a confidence vote last month, and the rules of his party say he can't be challenged again until next June. He only said he'd go in three months because the party was planning to vote for new executives who'd then be able to change that rule, in theory. (Also, because he thinks he's the new Winston Churchill, and being remembered as the Prime Minister whose entire party walked out on him doesn't fit with his internal narrative. He's already broken the record for most resignations in a 24-hour period, by quite a lot.)

Whoever takes over is guaranteed to be just as evil, only they'll look more professional while doing it, and most of the UK media is unapologetically right-wing, so they'll help spoon-feed the 'government back in honest and competent hands' narrative to the whole electorate. They'll make out that Johnson was the reason everything is broken, when their party has been systematically defunding the health service, social services, the justice system, the welfare system, etc. for the past twelve years. The political party isn't changing, just the Douchebag-in-Chief.

Slight shred of optimism: there are two camps within the Conservative Party, and the more moderate one is anti-Johnson. So hopefully there'll be an easing off of insane policies like 'lets deport asylum seekers to Rwanda' and 'let's have a trade war with the EU because we don't like extra paperwork at the Irish border', assuming the people responsible for those policies are sacked (please, god).

But some very damaging laws have already passed, and I doubt any of them will be repealed. And a moderate Tory is still a Tory.

#uk politics #it's still broken here you guys #the late-stage capitalism apocalypse continues

[paperbackribs]

A Tarnished Copper Boy (11)

Previous | Next | Ao3 Last chapter, Eddie assured Steve that he's doing the right thing in not changing the timeline while Catherine, their next door neighbour, removed Steve's stitches and encouraged Eddie towards a career in nursing.

Chapter 11: Rent Asunder

Steve’s frustration in the kitchen after he returned continues to hover at the back of Eddie’s mind. The insistence that Eddie doesn’t need to entertain him uneasily leads to branching concerns, an insidious outstretching of prickly fingers pointing to Steve’s potential dissatisfaction with living here.

With his fall always coinciding inside the living room and his anxiety about affecting the timeline, Eddie knows that Steve has very little choice but to put up with their weird roommate situation.

It niggles at him, an increasing conviction that Steve needs more beyond what the cramped walls of their trailer can provide. His third visit before winter had done Steve good: the dark bags under his eyes disappearing and his torso healing in a way that has left him less stiff while reclining. But Eddie continues to wonder: what more he can offer Steve after he has been made into a recluse, stolen away from his friends, family, and time?

The concern jitters at the base of his spine, even as Eddie tries to ignore it, as they later ready for bed. Steve slides under the covers on the side closest to the door, pillows propped behind him. “I’m looking forward to when I can properly move in bed. I feel stiff as a board lying on my back, but anytime I turned over all I could feel were the stitches pulling.”

Next to the window, dark but for distant yellow lights, Eddie perches on the other side, pulling off his socks. He likes his feet warm, but socks between sheets drive him mad. “What about now that they’re out?”

Steve squints and does a wiggly little shake that makes it look like he’s got ants in his pants but is likely him testing the range of his movement. “It’s better. I think tomorrow or the day after I won’t feel any of it, but Catherine is mean with those tweezers.”

“She’s pretty ruthless,” Eddie agrees, stretching out on the far side of the bed, the usual length he leaves between him and Steve yawning between the two of them. “Think she’d get along with Robin?”

“Like a house on fire,” Steve agrees swiftly, but he eyes Eddie’s isolated position doubtfully. “Why do you do that? Scoot all the way to the side,” he clarifies at Eddie’s confused expression.

Eddie thinks that he probably shouldn’t say because I’d like to rub up all over you and I only have so much control, so he settles for a different truth. “Just trying to give you some room, I practically suffocated you under all this hair that first morning.”

An enigmatic expression flashes across Steve’s face too quickly for Eddie to understand, but he watches as Steve’s smile begins and broadens as he says, “So you have no moral objection to cuddles. You’re just trying to give me space for my sake.”

Eddie nervously adjusts the pillow under him, trying to puff out what is dolefully flat and feeling like he’s fallen into some sort of trap. “Yeah?” He agrees uncertainly.

“So, if you’re faced with me—a guy who happens to really enjoy cuddles—and you wanted to make sure that I felt comfortable, which may mean less space, then you’d want to help me out too?”

“Steve,” Eddie says slowly, wondering at that fever dream theory again, “Are you asking me to cuddle you?”

“Hmm,” Steve taps a thick finger against his chin, as if in deep thought. “I do like being the little spoon, but I don’t think I can handle it with my right side at the moment. How about this…?”

Now, Eddie may not be the biggest guy, but he’s still a guy and he’s not light and his limbs are sufficiently long, thank you very much he mentally retorts to Jeff, who had razzed him two years ago ago before his growth spurt. This all runs through his head as Steve reaches over and efficiently tugs Eddie closer to the middle of the bed and then easily flips him over so that he’s curled on his side facing the window—which, all the manhandling would normally be sufficient to make his blood drain south, but then Steve curls up behind him too.

Resting Eddie’s head on his outstretched left arm, chest against back, he keeps a respectful distance between hips and ass. One broad hand spreads over Eddie’s hips, the tips of his fingers just reaching the top of Eddie’s thighs.

Eddie freezes under the burning palm, a welcome brand that he’s sure he’ll find on his skin tomorrow morning, but Steve isn’t deterred. “This okay?” he whispers, the warmth of his breath washing over Eddie’s neck, causing him to shiver.

“Yes?” Eddie squeaks.

He feels silent amusement rumble through Steve’s chest. “Are you sure?” He persists, voice rising to a normal volume and easygoing. “If it’s too much, I can back off.”

No, no. Eddie’s pretty sure he’d like to live in this moment for the rest of his life; Steve’s body one long line of heat against his, curled around Eddie like they’re lovers. And, really, he’d just been thinking about how to make Steve’s stay better for him. If Steve needs to be the big spoon, who is Eddie to deny him?

He tries to style out his suddenly fervent opposition to Steve pulling away with a joke, “You touch-starved, Stevie?”

Steve’s silent long enough that Eddie turns his head to look over his shoulder. His face is guarded like he’s waiting for Eddie to make fun of him, but he nevertheless chooses to share his thoughts. “Probably, something like that,” Steve finally admits. “I do like cuddles. You know, hugs and shit, but it’s not really allowed… as a dude unless it’s after sex, and my family for sure aren’t the hugging kind.”

Remembering Steve brushing his teeth as he admitted that there was no one to call at home, Eddie’s lips firm in resolution and he turns back over to his side, grabbing Steve’s right arm and pulling it firmly from his hip to rest against his chest, drawing Steve that little bit closer. “I like hugs and shit too, nothing wrong with that.”

Steve lets out a relieved sigh, stirring the loose curls of Eddie’s hair. “Good to know,” he murmurs, resting his forehead on Eddie’s shoulder. The two of them together like lost puzzle pieces found, and Eddie wonders if he’s the only one who hears the little snick as they fit into place.

It’s the best sleep he’s had in months, feeling safe in Steve’s arms as if he has his own sentinel now, curled around him protectively during the night. Steve looks similarly rested the next morning, eyes bright and clear, with his arms loosely clasped around Eddie’s waist. He’d unconsciously shifted in the middle of the night, turning so that he was face-to-face with Steve. Rather than any awkwardness that Eddie may have expected, he simply rewarded him with a sleepy smile and an affectionate squeeze before rolling out of bed.

Eddie figures if he needs to take a couple of extra minutes to allow his galloping heart to calm down each morning, then that’s a price he is more than willing to pay. And if spends a little extra time in the shower too, well, at least a good time is had because arousal already simmers low in his gut first thing let alone with a biteable Steve so close at hand.

It’s not the only thing that becomes taken in hand after that, the shower each morning pounding down on his shoulders as he releases the tension building in him. Lotion on his hand and around his dick, stroking himself to the memory of Steve wound around him from behind.

He allows his imagination to roam, creating a false memory of a bold Eddie seductively pressing back, turning his head to meet Steve’s darkening eyes, his gaze trained on Eddie’s lips as he pushes up against him, dragging his rigid length against Eddie’s ass. He imagines Steve’s hands biting into his hips, holding him still as he rhythmically moves over him while his lips descend to take Eddie’s.

The thought of Steve grinding on him, using him for his pleasure causes his hunger to flare. It creates a fiery conflagration that has him biting down on his moans, coming almost violently across the white tiles. The euphoria that slowly seeps through his lax limbs afterwards is nearly enough to drown out his guilt at whacking it to an unwitting man, helplessly confined to their home.

After that, they settle into a routine similar to the one established before spring. Eddie at school and Hellfire, Wayne at the plant, Steve keeping the house clean and the boys fed. The predictability of it all is comforting to Eddie, and Steve seems content with switching between hanging out and running the Munson household.

That first stirring of warmth at the start of spring turns out to be a false start and dirty grey clouds come rolling back, casting the trailer in gloomy, shifting shadows. Eddie decides the following weekend that the atmosphere will only help in recreating the feeling of curling up under blankets and in warm jumpers over Christmas. Perfect for this morning’s surprise.

Wayne sits in an upright burrito on the couch, blinking tiredly over a half-empty cup of coffee that Eddie knows is not yet enough to wake him. His mug is red with love thy neighbour boldly scrawled across it. Eddie is barefoot in the kitchen, wearing dark sweats and his thick-knitted, grey jumper. He hears Steve shuffle up behind him.

“Are those green pancakes?” Steve gawks down at the masterpieces that Eddie is currently assembling. He can only make sandwiches his ass; suck it, Wayne. Steve looks up at Eddie, a bitchy expression crossing his face, “Are we having green eggs and ham too?”

Eddie pokes at him with his elbows, edging him out of the kitchen. “Very funny, is that your highest reading level?”

“Oh, you fucker,” he hears Steve mutter and Eddie grins in delight, twirling his spatula in happiness before it falls to the floor from his clumsy hands. “Three-second rule,” he hisses at Steve’s laughter.

Rather than giving into his baser nature, Eddie generously offers Steve a fine morning beverage. “Give me a second, I’ll make you a cup,” he says, already grabbing a mug and moving towards the carafe.

“Let me. You concentrate on whatever the hell is going on over there,” Steve slides in behind Eddie, plucking the cup from his hands to rest it on the counter.

Before he can even think to move, Steve curls his fingers around Eddie’s hips. And his sweats are riding low because he can’t be fucked to pull them up and, oh Christ on a stick, he should have because Steve’s broad palms are bare against Eddie’s skin as he nestles them above his pants but under the jumper, and Steve’s hands are gripping him like he means it, the heat of it scorching. Eddie thinks that he could add a little more force, squeeze that tiny bit tighter and Eddie’s sensitive skin would bruise like a ripe peach, a sweet pain for him to press against later.

“Excuse me, chef,” Steve says, the rumble of his voice deep in Eddie’s ear, making him shiver down to his toes. Almost bodily picking him up, Steve firmly redirects Eddie out of his way and back to in front of the stovetop.

He stares blankly down at the hot pan, imagining Steve using that jock strength to lift him onto the counter, Eddie’s legs curling around him, ankles crossed over the bubble butt that he watches far too often to be seemly.

“You might want to flip that one,” Steve says next to Eddie, voice as smooth and dark as velvet. He startles and, yes, the pancake is looking crispy around the edges, so he hurriedly employs the only trustworthy thing in the kitchen right now — his spatula.

Steve moves out of the kitchen to perch at the counter, smirking over the rim of his mug. Eddie doesn’t really register it as he concentrates on making the next pile of pancakes, keeping his lower body close and shielded by the stove because sweats leave nothing to the imagination.

Thank Christ it’s a small kitchen and he’s able to set up two plates full of pancakes while practically glued to the spot. Eddie directs Steve away with their breakfast and he ambles onto the armchair to join Wayne in watching The Jetsons. Eddie flits into the bedroom, shoves the waiting rectangle into his pocket, and refills Wayne’s mug before joining them with his own stack.

He passes Mrs Butterworth over to Wayne and shoves a large forkful into his mouth, sweetness explodes over his tongue. Steve eyes him over his plate, “The green is really… something. Is this how you always make pancakes?”

Wayne snorts around his own mouthful, “Just once a year. It’s Eddie’s Christmas special, don’t ask where it came from. It’s a mystery.” On the television screen, Rosie the robot maid frantically chases after Astro the talking dog.

“No mystery,” Eddie declares. “It comes from the power of imagination to fuel the wonderment of the festive season.” Grinning, he mimes snow falling from the air with one wiggling hand.

“But it’s long past Christmas,” Steve says, confusion charmingly crinkling his face. Though Eddie is pleased to note, he continues to eat his pancakes.

“True,” Eddie concedes, inclining his head grandly before nodding to the television. “And while we have Astro rather than Rudolph, we continue to celebrate Christmas 1984 with a long overdue present.” He wriggles his gift out of his pocket and flicks it to Steve across the room. Steve deftly snatches it out of the air with an athletic ease that Eddie will deny to his dying day is very, very attractive.

A smile spreads across Steve’s face and he beams at him, “You got me a Christmas present.” Eddie feels like he could bask in the warmth of Steve’s expression for days, just curl up and purr like a cat under a sunbeam. “Open it up, Steve-o.”

“Yes, please, open it. Eddie’s going to wet his britches if you don’t get on with it.” Eddie stops wiggling in his seat to glare at his unrepentant uncle, whose blue eyes dance with amusement while he deliberately sips his coffee in a nonchalant manner.

Steve carefully unfolds the red wrapping paper to reveal Van Halen’s album 1984. He stares down at the cassette long enough that Eddie begins to get worried, and he rambles to fill the silence. “I know that you like Let’s Dance and Ashes to Ashes, and I’ve seen you dancing to the Eurythmics. But Van Halen with a guitar is out of this world and I thought that the synth he’s introduced would be your style?”

Steve fingers the hard plastic carefully while Eddie babbles, panic filling him at the thought that he’s badly miscalculated somehow. “Uh, that’s what I meant about the Eurythmics, that electronic feel? Is it… not good?”

Steve blinks out of his reverie at Eddie’s disappointed tone, shaking his head as he looks up. “No, I like them; Panama is a lot of fun. I was just thinking that the title is appropriate, like a reminder? A time capsule or something? Sorry, I’m not explaining this right.”

Wayne shifts off the couch, his mug clacking against his plate as he stands. “I’m going to go clean up.” Eddie barely notices his departure as he walks out of the living room. “No, I think that makes sense.”

He looks over his shoulder to ensure that Wayne is out of earshot. “It’s a pretty big thing — you coming here. And I think that’s worthy of celebration.”

“Yeah?” Steve glances down at the gift in his hand shyly, but a smile works its way to the edges of his mouth. He rubs thoughtfully at the cover design, a rebellious blonde cherub smoking from a white pack of cigarettes. “And, uh, what did you think of the cake?”

“I loved it,” Eddie says, the simple words insufficient to convey how the gesture had made him feel less alone when he was missing Steve so badly already. “I don’t think I’ve had a fruit cake since Mama left. It was wonderful.”

Steve’s face brightens with pleasure, “Yeah? I was worried it was undercooked.”

It had been at its centre while being weirdly overcooked on one side, but it had tasted like home with that warm balance of brandy under the sweet notes. “It was perfect,” Eddies says honestly.

Steve’s smile is sweeter than his Christmas gift, and so warm that Eddie is filled with that fluttering that strikes all too often in his presence. They decide to play the album immediately and when Wayne comes out of his shower, dressed, he’s faced with two young men bouncing around like loons to Jump.

Wayne shakes his head at them affectionately, “I’ll be out for a while. Eddie, Catherine left another textbook for you over on the coffee table. Steve, I’ll see you later for the Ohio game.” Steve waves him off with a friendly goodbye and moves to clear the torn wrapping paper, Panama starts to play in the background.

After Eddie’s initial concern that Steve and Wayne may not get along, it quickly became clear that his concerns were unwarranted. Steve felt useful by contributing around the house, Wayne appreciated the extra help, and the two bonded over their love for sports. Eddie was reliably informed that today’s game is of the basketball variety.

As his uncle slides on his jacket and steps out of the trailer, the door banging behind him, Eddie wonders whether he’s off to see Catherine again. He blows wayward curls out of his face with a small grin. Something had broken through after Catherine helped with Steve’s stitches and Wayne was spending less time at home and more time smiling. Eddie figures Wayne will say something to him when he needs to.

It’s Catherine’s textbooks that lead him to the idea, even if he doesn’t realise it at first. Concepts that he never thought would even occur to people in authority, like checking in with the patient and advocating for what they want. Putting the patient at the centre of healing because it was their fucking body, not just something to use as a demonstration of a doctor’s diagnosis skills or, as Eddie begins to contemplate, a body to practise their suturing on.

He sort of wants to give it a go, learning how to stitch a wound. And, considering how often Steve gets hurt, it might legitimately be a skill he needs in the future. Not that he says as much to Steve; he’d only get a scoff and rolled eyes in response.

It all appeals to him, the idea of being that first port of call for someone hurt, vulnerable and needing help. He can be the professional to make the jock stay and get a CT scan, he can be the one that spots the kid with the long sleeves in summer; he can create his own mutant powers for healing and use them for good.

Eddie remembers Steve derisively describing his cousin squandering his political muscle for his own benefit and thinks that he would be the opposite. The opposing force that creates pockets of good in a world that can be pretty fucking grim to some people. He’s describing all of this to Steve when he understands that the look he is receiving in return is indulgent, perhaps even affectionate.

“What?” Eddie asks warily, thinking that maybe he had rolled from excited into rambling and that Steve was about to sass him about it.

“Nothing,” Steve says, the corner of his eyes crinkling into a tender expression, “I’m just unsurprised that the guy who fights the man atop cafeteria tables—”

“I’ve done that once!”

“—and looks out for his nerdy sheepies, is going to go out into the world to battle for the little guy one scrape at a time.”

Eddie blushes, looking down at the textbook. He traces an outline of a human body with arrows pointing to it, “There’s no guarantee of that yet.”

“No,” Steve says confidently, “You will. You’re going to become a nurse and whether it’s with kids or working with a scalpel—”

“I don’t think they allow nurses to do actual surgery.”

“—you’re going to be great at it.”

Eddie purses his lips, “Is this your knowledge from the future by any chance?”

Steve shakes his head gently, “No, I just have faith.”

It buoys Eddie, that Steve believes in him. That Catherine sees potential in him. It makes his world seem bigger and has him wanting to reach out and grasp a future he had never considered but that looks increasingly attractive.

These days, band practice ends with Gareth and Jeff squabbling about the group’s name and new guy Dougie’s no help, so Eddie starts to beg off and spends more time on his homework. If he gets his diploma, then maybe he’ll be able to get into nursing school. Eddie will need to look up the requirements, but even if his grades suck surely there are some transitionary classes that he could do to get in. And so, for the first time in his second senior year, Eddie starts to apply himself.

Steve tells him to get more fruit at Melvald’s, it’ll help boost his brain he says about it. Showing very little faith in Eddie’s memory as it is, he writes down a list of the exact number of every fruit and vegetable he wants Eddie to buy. Eddie clicks his tongue at Steve’s distrust; he can be counted on to get groceries, Jesus H.

It’s as he approaches the check-out counter that he sees it. The 1985 calendar for America’s roadside attractions. This month’s feature is the Big Chicken in Georgia. Eddie grins, it’s perfect. He hides it at the bottom of the paper bags that Steve helps him to unpack at home. 

Later, in their kitchen and smiling in satisfaction, Steve pulls out two fat oranges in his hands, “Good, you got them.”

Eddie presses a hand over his left eye and lunges, knees bent with his right arm thrusting forward. “Have a hankering for good old Vitamin C, hey? You know what they say, an orange a day keeps the scurvy pirate away.” He parries with his imaginary sword.

“No,” Steve rejoins calmly, amusement dancing in his eyes as he whacks away Eddie’s still-wiggling arm. “Catherine said that if you really want to get into it, you can practice dissecting and stitching back up oranges.” He pales slightly at the memory. “It honestly sounds disgusting, but she left a few items for you to practice with. She also wanted me to tell you that the needle you have in your kit is for one-time use only, so don’t use it until you need it.”

Eddie lights up, holstering his sword, “That is so cool. I’ll have to get Wayne to make her cake again.”

“Or you could make it yourself,” Steve suggests wryly.

“Who has time for that? I have sutures to practice.”

Steve laughs and places Eddie’s future patients in what he’s designated as the fruit bowl. “Now,” Eddie rubs his hands together in anticipation, “One good turn deserves another, and I got you something in kind.”

Steve raises an eyebrow as he slides the tins of tomatoes into the cupboard, “You didn’t even know I was organising this. You just said I needed it for my scurvy.”

“No,” Eddie slides forward, pressing his finger against Steve’s plump lips. The softness of them causes a shiver to run briefly at the base of his spine. “I said that I was the scurvy pirate, keep up.” He steps back quickly before he’s tempted to do something stupid, like slip his fingers into Steve’s mouth or something.

“My bad,” Steve says sarcastically, licking his lips as he opens the fridge door and shelves the egg carton.

Eddie pulls out his gift to excitedly show Steve the calendar; he frowns adorably in confusion until Eddie explains. “I’m going to start marking down every day.”

Steve’s eyes light up, “So if I blip out and come back—”

“You’ll know immediately when you are, not just where.”

“Eddie,” Steve says fondly, “That’s really thoughtful, man. Thank you.” He searches inside the paper bag before folding it. “You know,” he adds casually, “You could use it to mark your due dates too. You have trouble keeping them front and centre of your mind sometimes, right?”

Eddie hadn’t realised Steve watches him closely enough to understand one of his chief frustrations when trying to do the right thing and hand in his homework. He mulls on it; it’s not a bad idea and maybe it’ll help bump up his grades.

“You can pin it next to your sweetheart,” Steve teases, referring to Eddie’s Warlock guitar hanging by his mirror, “You’ll never miss a due date again with all the kisses you send its way.”

“Jealous, Stevie?” Eddie playfully bats his eyelashes.

Steve squints at him with a look that Eddie can’t decipher, “Maybe.”

Eddie snorts, falling back, “You must really miss date nights.”

Steve sighs, binning the bag into the trash can. “Something like that.” He walks past Eddie into the lounge room, propping his feet onto the coffee table in a way he’d never do if Wayne was home. “Want to watch something?”

Eddie nods and joins him, throwing the television remote into Steve’s open palms. He knows he’d missed something just then, the flash across Steve’s face telling him that something else was going on in that noodle, but he’s not sure exactly what it could be.

It worries him: the concerns that Steve keeps to himself. Eddie sees him get jittery sometimes, pacing about the trailer when he forgets that Eddie is in the other room. He’s only heard bits and pieces, small mutterings rising into a scolding tone, telling himself that he needs to stay put if he doesn’t want to fuck up the timeline. That he needs to get over himself so that everyone else makes it out alive.

Eddie had bitten his lip hard when he overheard that last part. Understanding that what Steve was saying wasn’t for Eddie, but also knowing how hard it must be to carry the weight of the future on your shoulders, making yourself a prisoner, no matter how friendly the wardens.

But, oh boy, does the warden get to have some fun in return.

He’s late home one evening, having stopped for a couple of personal deliveries with the profitable asshole tax applied. Climbing the trailer steps, the ethereal hoot of an owl sounds in the woods and night has dreamily fallen, but the light shining through the closed windows is a welcoming gold, and he can smell something warm and delicious. It all puts Eddie in a wonderful mood, feeling like the breadwinner coming home after a long day.

He plays into it as he walks through the door, calling out an expansive, “Honey, I’m home.” He mimes taking off an old-fashioned fedora like a husband returning in Leave it to Beaver. The delicious scent of dinner spreads languorously in the air, an unfolding of veiled fingers beckoning Eddie closer.

Steve is in the kitchen when Eddie looks over to gauge his reception to the bit, white and red striped tea towel draped over his left shoulder and right hand propped at his fist, a wooden spoon in its grasp. He rolls his eyes, “Welcome home, snookums.” Dusty Springfield plays softly in the background, crooning about a spooky little boy like you.

Eddie grins, happy to play and pretends to draw off a heavy coat. He hangs it carefully next to the invisible hat. “Well darling,” he intones deeply, trying for a heavy rumble, “What do we have on the menu tonight?”

And see, Eddie thought he had this all planned out. A little drama exercise and some light-hearted fun. Then Steve leans over the counter, hips deliberately popped, and ass subtly wiggling, and Eddie thinks that oh fuck he’s not thought through anything at all.

“Well, pooky,” Steve breathes and oh double fuck that doesn’t help either, “I thought that glazed pheasant would pair nicely with your usual martini.” The music continues with a steady, hypnotic lilt.

Eddie deliberately frowns, glancing around as an addition to the joke but also so that he can look away from the temptation of Steve’s swaying ass. “And where is my borderline alcoholic crutch this evening?”

Steve straightens, smoothing down his non-existent poofy skirt and sauntering over to Eddie. The motion so smooth and mesmerising that he briefly thinks that he could pull off heels if he ever has a mind to it. Heat rises under Eddie’s collar as Steve tugs at it, miming his tie being pulled off in a slippery, slithering motion. The rhythm pulses, and Dusty smokily declares that she was confused but now she’s a-dyin’ to be sayin’ all the things in her heart.

“I thought I was your only addiction, honey pie.” Despite being the same height, Steve is looking up at Eddie through his lashes and Eddie really needs to not be thinking about how else they could play house right now.

The word addiction seeps some cold reality into his brain, the truth of it a little too close to how he feels these days and he lets loose a deliberatively false laugh, patting an oversized gut that’s not there.

“Well honey, sometimes a man just needs a drink.”

Steve retreats a little out of his space with a coy smile and Eddie inhales like he can finally inflate his lungs again. Yet all that extra breathing space stutters to a halt as Steve pulls up Eddie’s wrists between their bodies and pretends to wrap the tie around them, and Eddie just… lets him.

The melody falls to a dramatic stop followed by two precise finger snaps.

Steve smirks and pretends to tug him towards the kitchen stools. The music swells again, a sweet eerie tune as Eddie obediently follows like he’s properly leashed. His weakened knees give out under him when Steve pushes Eddie down onto the seat with a commanding hand on his shoulder. His knowing smile is dark and electrifying as he tells Eddie, “Good boy.”

A bolt of lust strikes through Eddie so hard he’s afraid that he has been rent asunder like a tree struck by lightning. It has him ready to fall down to Steve’s knees and offer any sort of payment if he would like to do this with a real tie sometime. Eddie doesn’t own one, but he’ll go out and buy it if Steve wants to play games like this.

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say something really fucking stupid and blow up this wonderful, friendly peace he has at home when Wayne thankfully walks through the door with a clatter.

He calls out his greetings and Eddie tears his eyes away to mutter a hello, his cheeks are burning hot, and he doesn’t think he can look at Steve right now. Not with the naked desire that must be shining in his eyes.

One look at him and Steve will understand that none of this is pretend for Eddie. Not the cute little nicknames. Not the feeling of coming home to family. That Steve has become his family in near all ways. Eddie swallows around the sinking feeling that he’s not sure how to call a place home anymore without Steve in it.

Dusty fades away, humming about her spooky little boy.

If you liked anything, please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3 :-) It would make my day!

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#steddie #time travel #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #a tarnished copper boy #paperbackribs writing

[mazeinthemiroh]

hongjoong sfw alphabet

genre: fluff

word count: 2.4k

warnings: none

requested?: yes

song rec: rock with you by michael jackson

pls like and reblog if you enjoyed! feel free to request anything <3

a - affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection)

can't believe this is the first thing i'm going to start with but here goes nothing-

i don't even believe in star signs... but i do believe in scorpios lmaooo

here me out

this is relevant i swear

through many observations of not only people in my life but also characters and celebrities who are scorpios, i have made an assumption. a little theory

i mentioned this in hongjoong's bf headcanons; scorpios (and in this way hongjoong) prefer initiating skinship or physical affection. while hongjoong has said before he doesn't like skinship, there are countless of times where he has been the one to initiate it

my point is: hongjoong is affectionate in his own scorpio way

i can hear all of you laughing at me already

b - best friend (what would they be like as a best friend?)

he appreciates you being his best friend so much

he feels like when he is with his best friend, he finally gets a chance to breathe and relax and let it all go

he likes to meet at a usual coffee shop or something to chat, even if it's just once a week it gives him something to look forward to

being best friends with joong would include him gossiping to you about idol drama and also unintentional spoilers for their next comeback

c - cuddles (would they like to cuddle? how do they cuddle?)

hongjoong isn't particularly keen on physical affection in the first stages of the relationship

he just needs time to warm up, set and understand your boundaries, and then slowly he will be more accepting of cuddles

gentle ones are preferred. he doesn't like to be smothered too much so gentle ones to help him relax or even drift off to sleep are very much appreciated

he doesn't like people knowing this but he prefers being the little spoon >.<

d = domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

settling down is a nice idea for joong but he's not too sure. he is trying to focus on the present day at the moment so it might take a while for him to decide if that's what he wants

hongjoong is bad at cooking i can't lie. we saw how he squeezed that egg instead of cracking it I DON'T TRUST HIM OKAY??

so give him some cleaning to do lol, he'll be much better at that i'm sure

e = ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

honestly, he really wants to do it via text but he knows that's never the right thing to do

i can imagine him growing distant from you, both emotionally and physically. you don't see him as much, and the dates become less and less frequent

until one day you decided to pop over to the studio unannounced to sort things out. but as you go up to him, you see the seriousness in his eyes and the frown on his face

he didn't think it would be that hard to break up with you

f = fiance(e) (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

he doesn't even know

he doesn't know how he feels about marriage in general. i don't think it's one of his 'must do' life goals at the moment

but in terms of commitment, he expects his partner to be fully committed to him, because he will put his time and energy into this relationship and will remain loyal until the end

g = gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

i have always seen hongjoong as being very gentle

like i don't see him being unnecessarily harsh or brutal when it comes to his s/o

don't get me wrong, we know he can be bossy af. he can't be blunt and likes ordering people around leader habits 🤪 but with his partner he will mostly do that for humorous purposes, just to get on their nerves!!

h = hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

he does like hugs but he will never admit it out loud

not that he needs to because you can totally tell

he likes gentle hugs. the fluffy kind 🥺

give him a back hug and he will melt right into you

idk there are occasions where he feels down about himself or feels that his hard work has gone unappreciated, but on days like these if his partner gives him a simple, soft hug, he feels like all their feelings melt away

hugs to him feel like you're saying: 'well done, you did well today.'

i = i love you (how fast do they say the L-word?)

it won't be too fast. he doesn't feel he should rush to say the L word

like the majority of things joong does, he will only do it when it feels right

it doesn't matter what setting, what day, what environment you guys are in. if his heart is moved to say those three magic words, there is no holding him back

j = jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they're jealous?)

dhdbdhhdjs

ok so

UHHUMMM this gon' get interesting

hongjoong does get jealous. we know this, it's a common fact we atinys collectively have stored in our memories

for instance, he can't have us looking at other idols without giving us a stern look and a scolding!!!

can you imagine what he would be like in a relationship 🚶‍♀️

he's not jealous in a toxic way. and he's not necessarily insecure either. he believes that his jealousy on reacts when it needs to, when it's a valid situation

if you are shamelessly flirting with another guy right in front of him, for instance, you better start running because there's no way he's letting you get away with that, nuh uh

k = kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

hongjoong looks kissing you on your hands like he's a true gentleman. a prince charming, if you will

he doesn't view it like that though. he likes kissing your hands because he's always holding them. like if you are with him while he works in the studio, he'll lean across to hold your hand and randomly pull it up to his lips <3

and he likes being kissed on the forehead >.< it makes him feel precious and fluffy inside dhsbejdmks

ok so kissing hongjoong on the lips? probably the best experience ever, be prepared. like his kisses are breathtakingly attractive; how they start off soft, gentle, delicate, as if exploring the shape of each other's lips before venturing further, passionate and slow and sweet open-mouthed kisses, molding perfectly into each other's lips as you were both made for each other

l = little ones (how are they around children?)

probably the type to think children are cute and watch over them from afar, but not really try to engage with them

he's just hesitant to interact with them, yk?

he doesn't know what to do with tbh so he would prefer to just to observe them and make sure they don't hurt each other or smth

m = morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

grumpy cat >:(

he doesn't wanna get up

will whine if you wake him up or try to get him out of bed

"five... more... minutes..."

that's what he says when half an hour has elapsed

n = night (how are nights spent with them?)

well on the nights he doesn't spend working in the studio, he would like to just come over and flop on the couch

he's prone to being more cuddly when he's tired so you can definitely sneak in a good old cuddle sesh

will probably fall asleep like that, you in his arms and the tv blaring on in the background somewhere

o = open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

hongjoong knows through his own observations if someone is trustworthy or not

so even before you even start dating him, if he thinks he can trust you he will be a lot more open with you anyway

at the same time, he can be quite hesitant about revealing things. people in the past have taken advantage of his feelings, which is why he is more careful about who he trusts with them

p = patience (how easily angered are they?)

i would say he is very patient

he's a father of 7 kids, who are we kidding?

no but seriously, i think most of the time he is patient because, through the years of beings the captain of ateez, he has learned that patience is one of the strongest qualities to have in a leader

that doesn't mean to say that he still doesn't get short and snappy with his instructions, and may come across as blunt every now and then. it isn't his intention but sometimes, if things need to be done, he gets frustrated when they are not

q = quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

like most people, he will probably remember a good amount, but might need verbal prompts every now and then

for instance, if you said "oh remember we went to that really nice italian restaurant in september last year," he would be like "oh yeah, that's the time you spilt spaghetti on your lap, how could i forget??'

r = remember (what is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

the experiences you share together are something hongjoong truly cherishes

hongjoong is a culture junkie. he lives for experiencing new things: new countries, new places, new food, new music, new art. he has an intense need to explore and learn and appreciate something different from the normalities of life

and now that he has a special person, now that he has you, he has someone to share these things with. and he didn't realise it would make such a difference but it did

s = security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

i'd say he's moderately protective

he knows you are your own individual person and are capable of many things, so he trusts you can take care of yourself

but that doesn't mean he's gonna leave you to do that, no way

he likes to keep a distant eye on you. maybe if you feel nervous about being in a crowded room, for instance, he would never let go of your hand if his life depended on it

or if someone kept making you feel uncomfortable, he would immediately intervene with no second thought

t = try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he feels bad because most of his dates are usually either coffee dates or studio dates

he likes the convenience of them and the fact that he is working all the time makes it hard for him to plan much else, especially if he wants to see you more frequently

but you reassure him that you like spending time with him regardless of where you are

still, i think he makes it up to you with the gifts he gets you. always something useful, heartfelt or expensive! and he would give it to you at the most random times just to see the look of surprise on your face

u = ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

sometimes he has a hard time balancing between his work and his personal life

he can put the same time and energy in for both, it's either one or the other

so when a comeback is coming up it can feel like he is neglecting you or not seeing you as frequently. it's just so hard for him to focus on such different things

he's still learning how to not let his work consume his whole life and find a balance. he's getting better at it for sure

v = vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

hongjoong cares about his looks an appropriate amount

i think he cares more about the clothes he wears, the fashion side of things, than his actual face

because he knows he looks handsome as hell, and he has a face that can match any hair colour, so he's more experimental than anything else!

w = whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

he more like himself around you

he doesn't feel he needs to act a certain way. being an idol comes with certain expectations and etiquette, and even being around some friends and acquaintances there is a certain need to fit in

but with you, hongjoong feels like he can let all of that go and just be himself with no filter or mask

so in that sense, he feels whole when he is with you

x = xtra (a random headcanon for them.)

you. are. his. muse

he can't help but feel inspired at the thought of you. so even when he is consumed with work and under time pressure, etc, his mind usually strays towards you

when mingi read over the song hongjoong had written recently, he started to see a very clear pattern. "what has y/n done to you, you've gone all soft and mushy!" mingi would tease

"what do you mean??" hongjoong protested as he re-read his lyrics of multiple songs, realising that they were all extremely romantic. who knew rap verse could be so utterly poetic?

y = yuck (what are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

people who are deceitful and betray people's trust. or they tend to talk behind people's backs

because if there is one thing hongjoong has learned, it's that if someone is talking about someone else in a bad way, they are going to be doing the exact same thing to you behind your back

z = zzz (what is a sleep habit of theirs?)

hongjoong will sleep, wherever, whenever, given the chance

the main sleep habit of his, that he has actually said before, is that he will always fall asleep when watching a movie

it's like... the perfect opportunity

good background noise, sitting on a comfortable surface, with the lights dimmed. perfect.

#kim hongjoong #hongjoong #ateez #atz #kpop #requested #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #kpop scenarios #ateez fluff #atz scenarios #atz fluff #atz x reader #ateez x reader #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #sfw #sfw alphabet #sfw headcanons #ateez headcanons #atz headcanons

[punksrespectpronouns]

does anyone think about how everyone rallied around noodles the dog, and instantly understood bones or no bones days and had compassion

but when it comes to human beings who are chronically ill and spoon theory, they can’t do the same

or how the AAC tag on tiktok is mostly dogs. but when it comes to an autistic person using assistive devices to speak they are made fun of and insulted

if anything the pandemic has only shown me that society was capable of understanding and accommodating disabled people. but they would rather have compassion for animals than the very disposable people they see as disposable

*disclaimer these animals are adorable, I am critiquing the people who are unable to look at disabled people this way

like in canada they legalized assisted suicide for several disorders i have. and it’s wild that they would rather help us not exist, than to help us live. and it’s getting hard to reconcile or have any hope for being treated better by society

#cripple punk #actually disabled #aac #actually autistic #capitalist hell #medical trauma

[qorianth]

So, I made something up. I made it up and was explaining it to my mom and she brought up the spoons theory. If anyone has heard of the spoons theory then you’ll understand this easily.

So my energy is like an arcade. Each day I get my tokens, some days it’s more, some days it’s less. Each aspect of life has its own arcade machine. Just like real arcade machines some use more tokens than others. Each day I have to carefully ration my tokens so I can get things done. Sometimes I use to many on one aspect and I can’t do another. Like I really really want to use the claw machine, but I need to play skee ball so I have to make a decision. Or when someone asks me to do something I now have to go play this silly multiplayer game with them, but now I don’t have the tokens to play my own games. I still don’t know how I redeem more tokens, but I sometimes do.

For me, since I have selective mutism, talking is harder. For me my arcade has an old telephone that you have to put quarters in. To hold a conversation I have to feed the machine tokens periodically. So often I’d just rather not talk because it takes to many tokens and I’d rather use those tokens to do something else.

So today I was explaining this to my mom because she was confused why I wouldn’t do anything after this morning(which was particularly rough). I was explaining it to her and she looks at me and says “Like the Spoons?” And I was all confused because I had never heard of spoons before. So I went and asked my friend who would have known these types of things. Found out my system is just the same thing re-worded and I had never known spoons existed.

If this helps any of you then you can use it. I’ve been told that it is a bit easier to understand and explain to someone. An arcade is just a pretty universal thing nowadays. If it helps then take it! I’ll forever know I helped someone.

#i hope this helps #If you use it tell me so I can have some serotonin from the idea of helping people! #I’ve been rather low in the serotonin department recently #Sometimes if I am feeling particularly good I use a poker tokens instead. #so instead of arcade games I can bet on things #spoons #spoons theory #Energy Arcade #mental health #cronic illness #autism #disability #adhd #aspergers #chronically ill #cronic fatigue #disabled #spoonie #invisible disability

[hardestgrove]

like not to get too deep on my stranger things shitposting blog but like, people being so rampantly anti billy but lacking and thought or nuance to that argument or trying to moralize their dislike of his character instead of just saying "i just don't like him" (which is literally a valid reason all on it's own) is in part directly because challenging material being removed from school curriculums, the increasingly poor quality of the american education system and the focus on standardized testing. Also a cause of this is places like tiktok which are finely tuned capitalist time sinks that create addicting doom scrolling echo chambers built to both make you feel bad and spoon feed you validation of a limited point of view so they can make money off of you.

In elementary school my art teacher was a ww2 survivor, sometimes he would gather us all in the projector room tell us stories from his childhood instead of showing us slides of Dali and Rembrandt. Not all of them were happy, some people would argue should not have been told to children our age even thought they happen to him in his real life when he was around 12. But these stories are foundational to me and my understanding of the world now. I loved this man deeply and he helped to inspire my love of art and creativity and helped art be the field I want to work in to this day.

I read Maus in high school which people have recently spoke of banning and watched Persepolis. I took a class about the literary use of the "Monster" and the "Other" where we read things like Frankenstein and watched Bladerunner and talked about the groups these monsters where metaphors for. We had a whole class discussing how many "monsters" are just people with conditions that were then demonized for their otherness (did you know the insult "pinhead" originated as an insult/slur against people with malformed skulls usually from microcephaly who were then exploited in freak shows?). I took a course on satire where we read A Modest Proposal (which is a slam against the English landlords who were treating the irish horrifically at the time, not a dude proposing they ate babies).

In college I took an entire mandatory course in my freshman year at art school called critical inquiry where we went through all the different kinds of theory-- Marxist, feminist, queer etc.

All media has a message, even dumb popcorn blockbuster shows. In some ways it is all propaganda. Critical thinking is important to understanding the world around you. Being able to understand multiple points of view is critical to interacting with the world. Schools are more and more less likely to teach these skills for reasons ranging from no time to actively suppressing them which leaves children open to getting a lot of info online with very little way of engaging with it in a way where they can think for themselves and pick it apart. This fandom skews young and it shows because there's very little genuine thinking, discussion and analysis of the text and a lot of frankly poorly considered takes and dickhead behavior.

I urge younger folks to engage with problematic content and listen to video essays and podcasts and whatever that explain critical thinking concepts and different kinds of theory used in analysis. If it feels like your school isn't teaching you how to be able to really seriously think for yourself please use the nightmarish hellscape that is the internet to find people who will and even when you find those sources be critical of them and never completely assume they're right, always ask "what's their angle?". Learn about dog whistles and indoctrination tactics. Learn how to protect your brains and how to engage with texts more completely for your own growth, entertainment and education and so you don't get blindsided by fucked up subtexts you didn't even realize where there and accidentally let shape your thinking.

#train.txt #once again THIS IS LONGER THAN I WANTED lol #god i got other shit to do i need to shut up but YES my final thought on this for now