”How do you do it?” Eddie asks.
The question slips out far too late at night, anxiety thrumming in his chest—he’s not escaped the feeling ever since the boathouse, when he simply couldn’t sleep, felt like a fox just waiting for hound dogs to get his scent, ready to run—
Steve doesn’t need him to explain further, as if he can somehow hear a whole lot of what Eddie’s not saying: like when he picked up the phone an hour ago and hadn’t even let Eddie tie himself in knots, had just said, so easily, “I’ll come get you,” like it wasn’t a huge inconvenience, like he’d been the one to call Eddie instead.
He’s considering Eddie from where he lies in bed, leaning on his elbow, and he’s still got the covers off pointedly—and that’s a big thing, Eddie thinks, a big thing he doesn’t know what to do with, because they’ve not talked, not really, not got much beyond the dizzying relief of still being alive.
But even fraught with profound lack of sleep, Eddie doesn’t think he’s misreading the look in Steve’s eyes.
I know, those eyes say, illuminated by the warm light of the bedside lamp. It’s okay, there’s no rush. I’m right here.
Eddie’s never seen that kind of look before. Not towards him.
“Sometimes Robin sleeps over,” Steve says thoughtfully. “And sometimes the kids are around, and they’re so annoying and I get, like, three hours, tops.” He says it with all the fondness in the world. “And sometimes I’m alone, and it’s fine.”
“What about the other times?” Eddie can’t help but whisper.
If it were a reasonable hour maybe he wouldn’t dare to ask at all, but exhaustion’s worn down the filter in his head—at this point it’s practically see-through.
Steve shrugs. “Yeah, they’re shit,” he says with such honesty that Eddie nearly asks it again, how do you do it?
“But then it’s, like, a new day,” Steve says slowly, like he’s carefully weighing up what to say, “and I can… drive.” The pause tells Eddie he means go to someone. “Or, like… call, if it’s really bad.”
Hey, I’m glad you called, man, Steve had said when Eddie got into his car earlier, like they were just going to the movies or something normal—like Eddie wasn’t shaking, forehead pressed against the passenger window.
Eddie feels his throat close up a little. Tries to sniff as quietly as possible.
“Eddie,” Steve says patiently. He moves back in the bed. Gives Eddie space. “C’mere.”
Steve keeps the lamp on which helps; this isn’t the boathouse, Eddie thinks, and the slightest bit of tension leaves his body. Even that feels like a miracle.
He’s just resigning himself to lying there, staring up at the ceiling so at least Steve can get some rest, when Steve turns and catches his eye, still wide awake.
“Tell me about The Lord of the Rings,” Steve says.
The tightness in Eddie’s chest loosens; he laughs in surprise. “What?”
“You heard me.”
Eddie turns so he’s facing Steve properly, attempts a casual shrug, knowing already that it’ll be too rigid. “I don’t know, man. We, uh. We kinda lived through Mordor already.”
His hand twists in the bedsheets, knuckles turning white.
I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never had…
Steve’s hand reaches across, eases Eddie’s grip on the sheets, like he’s saying, neither did I. Just give it a shot.
“The shire, then,” Steve says.
Eddie smiles. “Steve Harrington,” he says, suddenly finding enough lightness to tease; he’s missed it. “Are you asking me for a bedtime story?”
“Nope,” Steve says. “We’re just gonna lie here and talk.”
And they do.
Steve asks questions which works out for the best—Eddie can’t quite remember the last time he read the books. To tell the truth, anything that happened before March often has a kind of fog over it.
He’s sure he’s dropped at least a couple of plot points somewhere along the way, but Steve never once complains that he’s not making sense, just gently prompts Eddie until… until…
“Mm, I know what you’re doing,” Eddie mumbles through a yawn that catches him unawares.
“Oh, do you now?” Steve says, sounding smug. God, Eddie loves him. “Is it working?”
“Maybe.” Eddie says. His eyelids are heavy. “Um.” He yawns again. “Where… where was I?”
“Don’t worry about it, man,” Steve says. It sounds like he’s smiling—Eddie would check, but it’s suddenly impossible to keep his eyes open.
It’s okay, he thinks hazily, melting into sleep without even thinking about it. He can ask Steve in the morning.
There’s no rush.
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So I used to have intense cooking anxiety, to the point of frequently crying and/or having panic attacks in the kitchen — and now I love cooking and it rarely stresses me out. In case anyone else is going through that same struggle, a) I’m really sorry, that sucks immensely and don’t let anyone tell you it’s silly and b) here are a few rules I’ve made for myself that have helped me tremendously.
Never cook while hungry. Ever. It makes me sad, tired, and frustrated, which makes me try to go faster than I should, which just makes me more sad, tired, and frustrated. I keep small snacks on hand at all times.
Abandon the oppressive clutches of time. Trying to cook at a “normal” pace was one of the biggest sources of anxiety for me, so I don’t try to do that anymore. The recipe says it’ll take X minutes? Fake number, ignore it. It take a million years to cut a clove of garlic? That’s fine, I’ll get better over time. Other people are hungry? They can have one of my small snacks. Doing two things at once is too stressful? Do them one at a time, fuck efficiency. I’m feeling overwhelmed in the middle of a recipe? Almost all recipes can be completely paused in the middle of cooking by simply taking them off the heat, with very little effect on the final product.
Look up anything and everything. The internet sucks in many ways, but it has also allowed me to search for “skillet” or “scallion” dozens of times when I’ve forgotten, without anyone else knowing. If I’m anxious about making a substitution, I look it up. If I don’t know why something’s taking so long to cook, I look it up. There’s no shame in it.
My kitchen, my rules. And when I’m cooking in a kitchen, it temporarily becomes my kitchen. I kick people out if I need to. I put on my music or stay in blissful silence. I know not everyone can do this one, but even something like putting on noise-cancelling headphones and asking people not to talk to me as I cook has been helpful in decreasing my stress when sharing a kitchen.
Repeat recipes. Making something I already know I can make is so much less anxiety-inducing than making something new. It lets me actually practice the techniques they use and eventually, to tweak the recipe (something that used to make me super anxious), and eventually go faster or be more efficient. Anyone who doesn’t want to eat vegetable fried rice once a week for a whole month doesn’t need to eat my cooking.
Hope that helps someone and good luck out there!
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I finally finished reading the fourth volume of svsss in full, and thing is--the first time through I only read the bingqiu content because I was ravenous for more of their happy ending.
Turns out that was a perilous mistake.
Because I started reading the airplane extras. And I swear to god. MXTX is trying to kill me
What do you MEAN demon lord Binghe was sitting on his big fucking throne. All stoic and forbidding. Surrounded by his demon generals who don't know shit about human courtship. Asking them what he should do, fully demoralized by constant rejections from sqq, only to have airplane tell him to act more pathetic and needy. Which is already hysterically funny and insane, UNTIL LBH'S RESPONSE IS THIS, KILLING ME INSTANTLY:
LUO BINGHE. WHY DOES HE SAY IT LIKE: "I already tried that, didn't work--nothing works :/ not mean, not maidenly, not housewife, not spicy, not capable disciple. Is doubling down on clingy really all it will take? What's a born hater with only one love in his life to do????"
The dichotomy of him sitting there like 'how can I reach the unfathomable depths of shizun's heart?' A HEART HE'S ALREADY WON OVER, MIND and then in the Holy Mausoleum solving the puzzle without blinking and being like 'oh yeah you just have to hit the acupoints, no sweat.' Literally the comedy writes itself I'm so--
How am I supposed to be normal about this. MXTX understands the juicy quintessential queer joy of a person with the world's power at their fingertips wishing only for love. Willing to do anything to earn that love, when unbeknownst to them it's already been freely given. Totally not screaming and yelling and clawing at the walls
And that's not even touching airplane's uproarious account of events. The way he's like 'lol what's next, lbh and sqq are best friends now? smfh' only to see lbh TACKLE SQQ LOVINGLY. FOR SQQ TO BE BASHFUL ABOUT IT BUT SO SO FOND OF THE LITTLE SCAMP. This when we've been experiencing sqq's constant inner monologue of 'I'm so cool and so dignified about my role, truly the epitome of propriety and poser-level fortitude.' Meanwhile, in their universe:
Airplane constantly flaming???? Sqq and lbh in his observations????? His absolute bewilderment and confusion????? Legendary. No notes every single second of this shit was hilarious.
Airplane's comment that sqq + older adolescent lbh traveling together was just watching a couple in their honeymoon phase. OR the fact that lbh is exceedingly petty and refuses to share their food in the wake of airplane's interruption of their time together, until sqq relents sheepishly and insists airplane eat what's left (ONLY AFTER PLACATING LBH WITH MORE FOOD FROM HIS PLATE, SOBBING)
Watching airplane salivate over Mobei-Jun and acting like that's totally normal behavior. Finding out mbj and airplane got together first. Finding out sqq encouraged airplane. LIKE THIS. WHILE HE IS STILL IN DENIAL ABOUT HIS OWN FEELINGS:
Mobei-jun clearly thinking their arrangement is a forever thing, heartbroken his human abandoned him with all the hapless fury of a scorned wife swept away by false promises of fidelity. Airplane writing demons to be the type to beat up their crush lovingly and still unable to connect the dots about mbj's feelings. Mbj letting him go and respecting his wishes, only relenting when there's indication airplane was poorly processing his own feelings and didn't actually want to leave. Mbj caring for him and listening to him as soon as airplane voices what he needs directly and with clarity. None of these gays are functional and it's everything to me
Unrelated, but I physically can't hold this information in anymore:
I'm still reeling from younger lbh having his sexual awakening from the image of sqq wrapped in the immortal binding cables. Condemn me as you like he was so, so real for that.
And no I will not be taking any comments about how luo bingge couldn't bear to see luo binghe cherished in ways he never got to have and all the haunting implications of that. I will also not be taking any comments about luo binghe's instinct to look for sqq in that alternate universe, only to be shaken to the very core to be unable to find his shizun anywhere. The unspeakable and latent horror of his relentless mind likely piecing together what happened, but unable to say it; to suspect what is true, and live with the harrowing confusion of his double's actions. To blame himself, to assume that he had let his anger get the better of him in that world and result in unspeakable folly...
I also refuse to talk about how heartrending it is to hear Tianlang-jun weakly say "In the end, I really can't bring myself to hate humans." The implication that the foolishness of that hope and bright-eyed fondness--the very thing that put him through such unspeakable agony--couldn't be beaten out of him entirely. To discover that his faith in Su Xiyan hadn't been misplaced, to the contrary: his beloved hadn't scorned him at all, but rather fought to the miserable end to protect the fruition of their genuine feelings of love when she couldn't protect tlj or herself.
How MXTX has sqq deliberately draw parallels between their situation and that of ygy+sj and tlj+sx; desperately wishing it might not be too late for them. The concept of breaking cycles of abuse and harm pervasive throughout the newly devised story, how it evolves for the better only when love takes the place of power, pride, and domination. How the moment sqq chooses vulnerability instead of saving face, the genre shifts to the so-called "cringe" girly genre where most if not every character is more fulfilled, more true to themselves. How the "male-oriented" former genre was aimlessly sensationalized and sexualized, how it was a sustained performance of aspirational toxic masculinity. How men objectify other men without end. All of the unspoken gendered implications that come with that.
Anyways. Going to go put my head in a sandbox and try to process everything I just witnessed because even a second reading is not enough to find a modicum of closure.
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In Sickness & In Health
summary: Din does his best to comfort you when you become anxious about your health.
pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x reader
tags: fluff and angst, health anxiety/hypochondria, fear of death, emotional hurt/comfort
note: This one’s for all my health anxiety girlies (gender neutral) out there. Enjoy your catharsis ;)
rating: T
word count: 2.336k
main masterlist • din djarin masterlist
Seeing the N-1 outside the cabin on your trek home from the hangar was almost enough to make your knees buckle underneath you in relief—or maybe that was just another side effect of the mysterious condition that had been making you feel lightheaded all day. Either way, at least one thought triumphed over all the others, if only for a moment: I made it home, and so did he.
You picked up your already quick pace to get to the door, unlocking it with your access key and letting it slide open for you. The anxious aura swimming at the edges of your vision tried to make you forget all about Din’s homecoming, but your own excitement and relief upon having him home dispelled those thoughts for the time being. You spotted Din walking out of your bedroom and headed straight for him, not bothering to drop your rucksack on the way.
“You’re home.” Your voice was merely a breath as you all but fell against him, your arms wrapping around him and your cheek resting against his tunic-covered chest. “I thought you wouldn’t be back for another couple of days.”
“I expedited our trip.” Din’s unfiltered voice was full of warmth as his hand rose to the back of your head.
You closed your eyes, both to savor the moment and to fight a new wave of anxiety as a lightheaded rush ran over you again. “Why?”
Din’s smile was audible as he answered. “You know why.”
That at least got you to smile with him. “I’m guessing Grogu’s asleep.”
Din huffed at that, the sound rumbling in his chest underneath your ear. “Yes.” You made no move to pull away, and so Din kept you close. “How’s work been?”
The first thing that came to mind was today’s incident, which had you working on a ship’s fuel leak without your mask properly hooked up. The lightheadedness began after you made that realization. Instead, you decided not to burden him and forced another smile on your lips. “It’s been good. Just the usual.”
“Good.” Din still made no move to urge you away, even as he went on. “If you want to wash up, I can throw dinner together.”
You finally raised your head and truly faced Din for the first time since coming home. His hair was damp, as if he’d just finished washing up himself, and his gaze started to search yours the moment you started your own observation of him. “That would be great.”
“All right.” Din gently held your face to press a kiss to your forehead. Your tight chest warmed at the action, making your heart skip a beat in a way that would normally have you laughing, but instead filled you with more anxiety. “Is there anything specific you want?”
You shook your head. “No, thank you.” Your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be.
Din’s brow wrinkled together as his hands continued to hold your face. His gaze gave you a once-over. “Are you okay?”
You knew better than to lie to Din, but the last thing you wanted to do was spoil a reunion the two of you had been looking forward to. “Yeah! Just tired. It was busy today.”
Din nodded at that. “Well, I have no qualms about getting in bed early.” He gestured with his head to the kitchen. “So long as you eat something first.”
You returned his nod, smiling as you stepped away from him. The farther away you got from him, the worse your presumed condition became, the anxious aura returning to your gaze and fogging up your sweet surroundings in the cruelest way. It almost made you spin on your heel to run and tell him the truth, but your own stubbornness kept you from doing so.
Din had bore enough of your worried burdens about your health. You were just overreacting, as always. It was all in your head.
But the symptoms all felt so real.
It worsened under the water of the refresher. The steam clogged your lungs and made it harder for your tightening chest to breathe. You were certain that each new breath was wheezier than the last, as if the fumes from the fuel were at last taking their toll. In one moment, you’d be chastising yourself for not double-checking your mask earlier, and in the next, you’d be preparing for the worst.
What would Din do if something happened to you? What about Grogu? What if it happened while they were away, and that’s what they had to return to?
No. They were home. You were home. None of this was real, it was just your anxiety. But that still wasn’t enough rationale to make your tightened chest and lightheadedness disappear, nor did it help the trembling in your hands.
The steam of the water motivated you to work quickly, and soon, you were out of the refresher in record time. You dressed and walked out of your bedroom to see Din finishing up with dinner, though you didn't have the heart to admit your appetite vanished long ago. Din caught your eye with a smile, though the wrinkle in his brow returned the closer you got to him.
Din kept your plate on the counter and you assumed your normal position, jumping up onto the counter to sit while he kept standing. You picked up your plate and held it in your lap, at least giving the illusion of hunger as you thought through every word you want to confess.
“This looks amazing.” Your statement was truthful, no matter what your stomach might've been trying to tell you. “Thank you, Din.”
“No need.” Din forked his first bite, but didn't eat it, his intense gaze instead focused on yours as he raised his brow. “What’s on your mind?”
You couldn't resist that look of his. There was no point in trying to. You forced out a chuckle, hoping it was genuine, and stared at your plate as you also forked your first bite. “Nothing serious.” You took your bite and ate it, hoping to further convince him of your lie. After you finished chewing, you went on. “I just…” you pointed your fork at him, “did you ever fix a fuel leak on the Crest without your helmet?”
Din’s brow wrinkled again as he ate his bite and considered your words. Once he was ready, he spoke in a cautious tone. “No. I couldn’t be sure I was truly alone in any hangar or landing zone.”
Oh. Well, there went any chance of reassurance. “Oh, yeah. That makes sense.” You forced another bite down your throat.
Din’s next question was as gentle as the hand he set upon your thigh. “Why?”
You began to get flustered, both from trying to maintain your own lie and from Din’s touch. “Well, I just kinda did that today.” You shrugged, avoiding Din’s gaze at all cost. It would only make you tell the full truth, and you were trying your best to weasel away from giving him another reason to worry about you—or foster frustration towards you. “I fixed a fuel leak, but realized after that my mask wasn’t on right.” You dismissed your words with a wave of your fork. “But I’m sure it’s fine.”
Din remained silent, but his actions spoke for him, as they often did. He set his plate down and took your chin in one hand, his gaze giving you a once-over just like before as he circled his jaw in hardly concealed concern. “What’s wrong?”
You shook your head. “Nothing, Din, I promise. I’m just overthinking it, I’m sure.”
Din pointed with his free hand at your own. “Your hand’s been shaking every time you’ve lifted your fork.”
You shrugged and began to play with the metal utensil in your hand. “It’s because I’m overthinking.”
Din’s gaze flickered to your chest for a moment. He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not breathing normally, either.”
You instantly tensed with worry at his words. “Is it that bad?” You’d thought most of that was in your own head.
Din shook his head to reassure you. “No, cyar’ika. I just know you.”
He eased his hand down from your chin to take your plate for you, setting it aside with his own. Din was just as gentle in setting his hands on your knees to make room for himself, bringing his face closer to your own as he held it between both his hands and observed you up close.
“Now, please tell me what you’ve been feeling since the fuel leak.” Din nodded at you, his gaze never once straying from your own. “I want to help you.”
You set your hands on your thighs, watching as you kneaded your skin. “Well, I didn’t feel anything until I realized I had my mask on wrong, so…” you laughed lamely, “I know it’s all in my head.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Din’s thumbs ran over your cheeks for comfort. “You’re still feeling something now. I’d like to focus on that, if that’s all right.”
You couldn’t help smiling at his sweetness. “Of course. I’ve just been a little shaky, and a little… out of it, I guess. Lightheaded almost. I was scared I was gonna pass out on the way here.”
Din’s brow wrinkled again at that. “I would’ve come to meet you if you commed me.”
“I didn’t know you were home. Plus, I didn’t want to bother you.” Din parted his lips to speak, but you put a finger over them, stopping him as you went on. “I know you want to help, Din, but I do this all the time, and I don’t like making you deal with my anxiety. I know I’ll make it home. I know I’ll be fine. I just… I choose to dwell on that small chance I won’t be okay.”
Din remained silent even as your finger fell away from his lips, a gentle invitation to go on.
“All I can think about is what it’ll be like for you and Grogu if something does happen to me.” Your voice trembled, though your composure remained. “You’d be devastated. I’d never want to do something like that to you. And in this situation, I could’ve avoided it just by double checking my mask before working.” You shook your head, your shoulders rising and falling in your first deep breath of the day. “I’ll be fine. I always am.”
Din waited to see if you were done. When you gave him a small nod, he began to speak. “I promise you with everything I am that I will never let something happen to you.” Din nodded to prove his severity to you. “So long as you’re honest with me about what you’re feeling, whether you think it’s anxiety or not, I’ll gladly take every step with you to ensure you’re okay.”
You grabbed his wrists to ground yourself, nodding to show him you understood.
“It’s not a burden. This is what we vowed to do for one another.” Din was even able to offer you one of his sweetest smiles. “‘In sickness and in health.’ Right?”
You chuckled and nodded. “Right.”
The corner of Din’s mouth was raised higher than the other. “This counts.”
You looked at your own forehead the best you could. “Even if it’s in here?”
Din’s brow furrowed in severity. “Especially if it’s in there.” He pressed his forehead against yours. “Your mind is my own.” He blinks a few times and rushes to clarify. “Only if you’re all right with that.”
You smile to reassure him. “I am.” You giggled and shrugged. “I’ve got nothing to hide at this point.”
Din’s worried expression melted into a sweet smile of his own. “Good.” He leans away to kiss your forehead, just like before. “Thank you for trusting me. Your mind is beautiful.” Din’s gaze gives you a once-over, but this time, it’s less worried. “So is your body.” He offers one more dutiful nod. “I’ll help you keep them safe.”
You grinned from ear-to-ear at his genuine sweetness. “Thank you, Din.”
Din’s hands held the sides of your neck as he gently kept you close. “Like I said before. No need.”
Your smile became more mischievous as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “So, you think my body is beautiful?”
Din’s jaw flexed as he looked at the plates on the counter beside you. “There’s… a lot more I could say.” He removed his hands from you to give your plate back to you. “But there’s a different hunger I need you to satisfy first.” The worried knit returned to his brow as he set his hand back on your thigh. “Especially if you’re not feeling well.”
You ate a bite you were finally hungry for. “Trust me.” You swallowed and nodded at him. “I feel much better now.”
Din picked up his own plate as he returned your nod. “Good.” He gave you one more once-over as he took the time to bite and chew his food. “Then let’s eat quickly.”
You laughed and leaned forward, seeking just one kiss from him before complying with his gentle command. It, of course, should’ve been no wonder to you that Din would calm your worries, but it was somehow more than that. Din had accepted you for everything you were, even the bad thoughts that sometimes consumed you.
And that, somehow, meant even more than him calling you beautiful, which you knew he would proceed to do many more times that night and beyond.
main masterlist • din djarin masterlist
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