#I THINK THERE WAS A MISCOMMUNICATION

[winitry]

ARCANE SPOILER

silco: killing is a cycle and it only ends when u find the will to walk away

jinx: so i should find the will to kill myself

silco: wait-

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

How much longer 'til your luck runs out?

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[lazylittledragon]

i said that gale and cyra have disaster romcom energy and now it's all i can think about

[captainmaxatx]

Logan and Wade almost always do the nasty with the lights out and Wade is a little disappointed but he gets it and he resigned himself to a lifetime of dark sex long before Logan came along, sucks to know that your partner doesn’t want to look at you while getting down to business but its something Wade can live with.

Meanwhile, after a long day of stupid big bright lights Logan loves to have the lights out when making love with Wade because there isn’t any extra light bugging him and his natural night vision means he can see Wade perfectly, just the way he likes it

[morganbritton132]

Eddie: *overhears some girls gossiping about how Steve and Nancy got in a fight in an alley and the police got involved*

Eddie: *hears someone else say that Nancy Wheeler was taken to the police station*

Eddie: *sees Steve jumpy as hell with bruises on his face*

Eddie: *notices that Steve doesn’t talk to his friends anymore. notices that Steve and Nancy always seem miserable together. notices that only one of them is trying to please the other*

Eddie: *witnesses the halloween bathroom fight*

Eddie: *sees Steve confused, beat up, bruised to hell, and single the literal next time he sees him*

Eddie: *puts the pieces together and draws a conclusion*

Conclusion: *is wrong*

Eddie, accosting Steve at lunch: Hey, did you know that if a guy is getting hit by somebody that it’s abuse? Even if it’s a girl doing it.

Steve, confused: Oh-kay?

Steve, deciding that Eddie is reaching out to him for a reason and draws the same wrong conclusion about Eddie: I mean, yeah. That’s - yeah? That’s true. And messed up. You should tell someone if that’s, uh…going on.

Eddie: Yes, exactly. You should.

[ghostdrinkssoup]

nbc hannibal is a romcom purely because the central conflict results from hannibal not understanding his feelings for will and being a total loser about it because he’s never had a friend or been in love before which makes him act so silly and do the most insane things that will interprets being framed for murder as hannibal having something against him (as anyone would), and this series of misunderstandings is not resolved until hannibal’s ex girlfriend and former psychiatrist tells will that hannibal is so in love with him it makes him look stupid. after that will does not hesitate to break hannibal out of jail and douse himself in blood which is this show’s equivalent to the protagonist running to the airport to stop their love interest from leaving the country and marrying someone else before they’ve had the chance to confess that they’ve loved them ever since they’ve known them

[keferon]

Part 2 of Jazz and Prowl in space!

Gonna start calling it Odds of Survival.

Prowl loves entrusting his life to reckless strangers.

———————————————————————

Prowl pulled the release to the airlock and the music was swallowed by the vacuum of space.

Bursting forward, Jazz launched outwards riding the pop of escaping air. The first quintesson had its eye socket repurposed as an ankle bracelet before the second measure even began.

Ah.

Prowl probably should have specified he wanted to try speeding past rather than confront their opponents directly.

Jazz's improvised footwear writhed sluggishly before the mech twisted his ped inside its brain case, finishing it off and turning to face the next nearest opponent.

Odds of survival 26%

The white and blue mech launched himself upwards as the nearest quintesson went for a dive bomb. It's teeth breaking on impact with the sky bridge. Jazz twisted in midair.

They fell in slow motion, back arching against a starlit backdrop. An upside down visor met blue optics. Jazz nodded his head to the side, flicking one horn up and one horn down.

Did he just wink? (#^%)

The falling mech unsheathed a blade from his wrist, driving it through the sputtering quintesson.

Oh Primus has he been flirting the entire time?

Jazz spun, slicing into the next quint to close the distance.

I can not. I can not assume that was intentional. It has to be a cultural miscommunication.

The last two quintessons pounced. Swinging hard, Jazz caught one's jaws with a forearm while he kicked the downed another in the side of the head. The third was attempting to bite into his back but the teeth couldn't get a full purchase on the rounded compact plating.

Odds of survival 22%.

Prowl snapped out of his social etiquette downward spiral. Sprinting from the safety of the airlock door, he knelt behind a large section of external piping, lining up his shots.

Tacnet spun to work.

It was designed to calculate hundreds of possible variations of large scale engagements, including the number of soldiers, type of weaponry available and could even determine the approximate number of ammunitions that would be left over, provided Prowl had enough data at his disposal.

Calculating the marksmanship needed to dispatch three hostiles at medium range while distracted by a highly competent ally?

Odds of Survival 32%

Laughable.

Three shots burst through the thin atmosphere.

Quintesson wreckers were built thick skulled and stubborn. Luckily they came with easily identifiable gaps in their organic construction.

The Quints fell from Jazz, each with a smoking hole where and eye used to be. Jazz looked at Prowl, then the smoking quintessons and back up to Prowl before doing finger guns again.

Speaking of thick skulled and stubborn.

Prowl put on his best Commanders Scowl and pointed in the direction they needed to be currently running in.

Doorwing sensors hiked as he picked up on movement from behind. The incoming hostiles was palpable even in the moons thin atmosphere. Quintessons rarely favored stealth.

Prowl began running.

Jazz kept pace, half turned around to keep track of the incoming troop. Prowl kept his optics locked forward, not remotely willing to risk tripping on the torn apart path.

Tacnet locked on to a large silvery pillow that'd been exposed to the atmosphere.

Expanding LLX Lithium battery. Explosion on contact 90%

Prowl shouted a warning but the air was too thin to carry beyond his own audials.

Jazz will step on the lithium battery in 1.5 clicks (88%) and will be critically injured in at least one leg (76%).

Prowl grabbed Jazz's servo and yanked.

Music erupted in the moment of connection.

Vibrations ran up his arm and across his frame. Inside his audials, Prowl could make out the song Jazz had begun in the airlock. Looking at his visor, mouth agape, only one thought could form in Prowls mind.

How fragging loud is he playing that music?!?

Jazz perked up, and pulled Prowl around in an arc. Multiple sharp impacts thudded into the ground behind him. Prowl turned and almost wished he hadn’t.

Three heavily armored Quintesson bombers equipped with bio-mechanical ballista.

The javelin like spikes were as long as Prowls arm and designed to pin targets in place while the slow moving blimp-like body of the bomber got into position to blow them all to the Pit.

Prowl tugged Jazz in the direction of their objective, refusing to let go in case he tried to launch himself at the bombers. Prowl wasn't sure how Jazz would manage to do so, but Prowl felt an overwhelming nagging sensation in his tanks that he'd fragging try.

Jazz was evidently fine with this arrangement.

As the music pulsed between their palms, Jazz leapt at a diagonal, pulling Prowl along for the ride. The low gravity was so damn floaty. It continually forced Prowl to readjust his footing so he wasn't frantically treading air every time his peds left the ground.

Jazz was evidently fine with that too.

Another round of ammunitions impacted where the two of them had been running.

Their egress began to take on a pattern Prowl was quick to pick up on. It took the bombers 8 clicks to reload, launching at the same time, half a click after musical flair in Jazz's song. At the moment of the flair, the mech would launch them in a nearly unpredictable pattern. After the first two times of nearly getting his arm dislocated, Prowl began catching onto these moments and moved his momentum in sync with Jazz.

They'd started dancing.

The Tactician had an iron fisted focus on matching Jazz’s frankly eradicate lead. The longer the duet continued, the more data he had to work with. Prowl steadily progressed from Reacting to Anticipating. Feeling a core deep satisfaction that came from sinking into mastering a new skill.

By the time they’d escaped the bombers range, they’d made it too the base of the first hurdle.

Their reprieve would only be brief. The bombers would catch up in approximately 50 clicks (88%), giving the mechs a small window of precious semi-safety in which they needed to scale the wall before them.

Prowl craned his helm back at the barrier.

He would not be able to scale it on his own in time (95%).

Could Jazz? (65%)

While carrying him? (19%)

Jazz rapidly tapped his side.

The alien was crouched low, impossible legs bent with potential energy. He tapped his own back, gesturing for Prowl to grab on already.

Prowl threw himself over the mechs broad back. His digits frantically searched for a hand hold, flinching away from nearly digging into fragile vents.

I can’t-

Jazz leapt.

“You’re really grab-able - Isn’t that kinda stupid?”

Stupid stupid stupid.

Prowl skated off of Jazz’s rounded compact plating, that he specifically SAID was supposed to make him hard to hold on to.

He landed hard on his aft, denta clanking together painfully.

47 clicks remaining.

Jazz hit the ground beside him before Prowl had fully gotten back up. Now facing him, Jazz grabbed Prowl by both wrists and pulled him chassis to chassis. Jazz positioned his arms to link Prowls servos behind his helm, then set his own servos tightly onto Prowls waist.

Jazz nodded once, like he was satisfied with what he’d just done.

Prowl made a facial expression that a psychiatrist would find concerning.

42 Clicks.

Jazz nodded again, like expected Prowl to respond in any coherent manner, and lifted.

Prowls legs swung forward on instinct. Following the motion, Jazz wrapped them around his waist. Through the screaming haze of his processor, Prowl had the presence of mind to lock his ankles together as he realized Jazz’s true intentions, and manually aborted the logic cascade that had nearly crashed over him.

Package secured, Jazz let go and started their ascension.

Legs bent at an impossible angle to slam multi segmented peds flat against the metal walls. Despite Prowl’s body blocking most of his view, the alien mech was unfettered by the lack of vision. Jazz hardly bothered with proper hand holds, instead opting for incredibly strong magnetic grip built into his servos.

The magnetic backwash splashed over Prowls doors wings, forcing him to temporarily offline them or risk crippling vertigo. The structure they were scaling shook violently like something large had just irrevocably broken.

This is fine this is fine this is fine this is fine.

At 35 click’s remaining, Prowl centered himself enough to search for their pursuers.

Damn it!

The bombers were a fraction faster than he initially calculated. Six clicks before we’re in range (87%). Luckily, Jazz was more than a fraction faster than initially calculated as well. At this rate, they’d reach the top simultaneously.

No reason not to be proactive.

Prowl found that if he tightly cupped one servo around the back of Jazz’s helm, he had just enough leverage to bring out a side arm. After all, the bombers were already in range of him.

Steadying his elbow over the other mechs shoulder, Prowl took aim.

Five clicks.

The bombers flew in V formation.

Four clicks.

Too heavily armored for a standard sidearm to pierce.

Three clicks.

The lead bomber opened up its front in preparation for combat.

Got you.

Prowl threaded the gap, his shot skirting over the ballista in favor of impacting the bombers prodigious cargo. He watched something spark inside a split second before it succumbed to total annihilation.

The shockwave felt like a single soft papft of a breeze in the starlit air.

Jazz hefted them over the top of the wall, not dropping Prowl in favor of sprinting with him at full speed across the top of the hurdle.

One of his arms curled around to support Prowls back, allowing the Praxian to release his death grip on their helm. Prowl leaned back into the hold, allowing Jazz freedom to see again.

Jazz turned his helm around 180 degrees-

Did not know he could do that did not know he could do that.

- to look at the fire works behind them.

Jazz whistled appreciatively at the sight. He turned back to Prowl, visor locked onto his face as they carried him across the roof.

Reverberating music, nearly crashing, numbed doorwings, and a deeply satisfying kill all followed by a display of casual body horror was making Prowl just a little bit delirious. As a result, Prowl wasn’t entirely sure what expression he was making, just that Jazz was inordinately fascinated with it.

Without looking away, Jazz leapt off the end of the roof.

Prowl watched as Jazz glanced over his shoulder and back to him.

Do a double take.

And then crush Prowl to his chassis.

Jazz’s visor was over bright, both horns snapped completely forward and from somewhere inside his chassis, Prowl could feel some internal component spinning into overdrive, sounding for all the world like teeny tiny screaming.

Why are we still falling.

Prowl turned as far as possible in Jazz’s iron grip.

The sky bridge was collapsing.

Odds of Survival 4%

———————————————————————

Jazz, everytime Prowl one-shots an enemy: I need to get his number.

If you’re curious, the song Jazz is playing can be whatever you like. Personally I kept switching between listening to “I Was Made For Lovin’ You” by Kiss and “I Feel Love” 12” version by Donna Summer while writing.

- SSTP

OH GOD AHAHJFKFK THIS IS SO FUCKING GREAT HELP

And the concept of music playing between them??? I'm s o l d. "I was made for lovin' you baby" is basically JP OST for me at this point ehehhmgmgm

Jazz: Hookay I need to transport the machinery from the point A to point B. Focus! Let's go!

Prowl: One of those tiktok videos where you can see some Reddit post and hear AI narrating it while Minecraft parkour is playing on the background. Except it's gay panic instead of reddit post and internal screaming instead of narration and even more gay panic instead of minecraft. ......and everything is overheating probably lmao

Also can you really call it a JP fic if their odds of survival never dropped lower than 10% according to Prowls brain? Ahahjgkgk all amazing JP fics have to do this. It's inevitable and I love it so much~~

[nightthinker-08]

I couldn't sleep so I drew some Pomnies shes surprisingly fun to draw lol Oh and some doomed yuri too I guess xD buttonblossom is cute n all but calling them doomed yuri or digital yuri is a lot funnier to me

[s-4pphics]

teenage!ellie not knowing how to accept that she has a crush on girl so she comes off as stoic and rude but she’s actually nervous and giddy because the girl she likes is so vibrant and loud with her affections towards her….

ellie’s crush doesn’t think she’s rude at all; she just needs some gentle guidance and she’ll nuzzle up like a kitty

baby ellie turning to mush whenever crush comes around but she’s not comfortable expressing it yet because what will people think? they’re already off put by her and now she’s gay?

she tries to protect her crush’s reputation by ignoring her; the other kids like her and think she’s funny. she shouldn’t have to sacrifice her status for ellie

[chinesegal]

Stolas' "I've always thought so highly of you, I didn't think you think so low of me" is some disgusting, manipulative gaslighting. Its what abusive people do when called out for their actions: try to deflect by victimizing themselves and make the person they hurt look unreasonable.

I hate that there aren't more ppl who realize how manipulative and gaslighty this is.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 5: Flip Slip.

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 4.5)

[everysongineverykey]

as part of the getting-worse-before-it-gets-better portion of aziraphale and crowley's season 3 relationship arc we NEED a desperate "i love you" from aziraphale met with a hissed, spiteful, and quickly regretted "i forgive you" from crowley

[eposiemc]

"You betrayed me last season so I don't love you!"

guys i can't believe the gempearl divorce is real guys LOVE IS DEAD wl!gem is salty and bitter about how everything ended in secret life. how is it possible that none of us even thought about that possibility

[livesincerely]

Jack’s hauling all six feet of Davey’s deadweight back to his car, trying to shove his lanky, drunken, noodle limbs into the passenger seat—Jesus Christ, he really is all leg, ain’t he?—when Davey kisses him.

Jack freezes. Goes perfectly still, frozen in place, as panic pierces his chest like a shot to the heart.

Because Davey is drunk, drunker than drunk, really, his mouth warm and soft and a little sloppy against his own. He tastes like salt and tequila and that last round of fireball shots Racetrack ordered for the table, tastes like everything Jack’s ever wanted and nothing he’s allowed to have.

Davey makes soft, unhappy noise in the back of his throat, then loops clumsy arms around Jack’s neck and tugs him closer: stubborn, insistent, and drunk, so fucking drunk, because Jack knows better than to think he’d ever do this sober.

But he smells so good—like coconut conditioner and the fancy fabric softener he insists on and Davey—and he fits so perfectly in Jack’s arms and he’s kissing Jack like he wants him. Right here in the parking lot, half in and half out of the passenger seat of Jack’s car, with nothing but the buzzing street lamps overhead to notice Jack’s heart cracking into tiny little pieces.

Davey sighs against his lips, his fingers curling gently around the nape of his neck, and Jack knows.

Knows he shouldn’t. Knows it’s a mistake. Knows that Davey—clever, gorgeous, wonderful Davey—won’t remember this in the morning, and Jack will never, not ever forget.

But he’s only human. He’s just a man, hopelessly in love with his best friend.

And for just a moment, he kisses him back.

00000

Jack forces himself to pull away. Davey looks up at him with big, blue pleading eyes, his mouth wet and red and perfect, his cheeks pink from the rasp of Jack’s stubble.

“Why’d you stop?” Davey mumbles, a swirly curl of hair falling over his forehead. Jack’s heart skips in his chest. “You don’t want to kiss me?”

“Dave, I—“ What can he say? What can he possibly say?

He needs to apologize, needs to beg for forgiveness because Davey might be drunk off his ass but Jack absolutely is not, had a half a beer and a single shot, so there’s no excuse to fall back on. There’s no excuse for this.

Davey pats him on the shoulder with all the coordination of a wet mop head.

“‘S okay,” he says. “I don’t want to kiss you either.”

Jack’s pretty sure a baseball bat to the back of the head would hurt less.

He wants to stumble away as quickly as he can, wants to see if Kath and Sarah are still out front waiting for their Uber and if they’d take Davey home instead if he asked really, really nicely and walked away before they could ask him any questions.

Instead he sucks in a steadying breath. Carefully reaches around Davey to buckle in his seatbelt.

“There’s this guy,” Davey says, hushed like he’s sharing a secret. “I wanna kiss him all— all the time. He’s handsome and funny and way smarter than he gives himself credit for and— and he’s just the best, you know?”

Jack does not know. Jack would rather be force-fed his own liver than know any of this.

He starts manually lifting Davey’s legs into the footwells. Tucks his feet in so they don’t block the car door.

“His name’s Jack.”

Jack stops. Wonders, for just a second, if maybe someone did hit him over the head, actually, because—

Because the last ten minutes have been a fucking rollercoaster and he might have the world’s first genuine case of emotional whiplash, but—

His name is Jack.

His name is Jack, right?

[strangersteddierthings]

In the 19 years Steve's lived in this house, never once has he slammed his front door like that. Too scared of his parents' wrath should it have caused any damage.

It feels good.

He almost turns around to do it again, a fuck you to his parents and every decision they ever forced on him, but then he remembers. They're all in there. Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, Eddie, Robin. In his living room, making declarations and decisions about Steve's life for him. Or, well, one of them is.

Like his parents do. Did?

He didn't grab his keys, wallet, or even his coat, but he's not going back for them. It's cold, sure, but Steve's sure his anger will keep him warm until he reaches a destination. Any destination.

He just doesn't understand why- Why they keep doing this to him.

Why he keeps letting them.

No. No, that's a lie. He keeps letting them because he knows, deep down, he's not a fighter. Not for himself.

He'll put himself between the ones he loves and danger in a heartbeat; he's done that since the first time he watched a petal-faced monster peel its way out of the Byers' wall in '83.

But his parents trained the fight right out of him when it came to himself. It was easier to not argue, to just do what they wanted. They'd smile at him when he was good. They'd take him with on shorter business trips when he behaved. His mom would even allow a quick hug if he impressed a shareholder with how well-mannered and quiet he was.

He won their affections with obedience.

He's never- Nancy and he love each other now, but in the same way they all love each other after having survived the horrors the Upside Down. But Nancy never loved him the way he'd once loved her. That was bullshit.

Even Robin and Dustin. He knows they love him now. Will love him forever, going forward, but both had admitted to having a predetermined idea of who Steve was and what he was like and they weren't wrong but they also weren't right because Steve's never been Steve a goddamn day in his life.

Steve hadn't even known Steve until monsters came into his life.

The way everyone used to refer to him as the Steve Harrington was a judgement all its own. A thing that he was, and had no say to be otherwise.

Even Eddie, in the Upside Down, and now, in his own house.

Steve finally feels like he might be becoming who he really is and he's surrounded by friends and it just made him stupid. He'd thought it was confidence, when he pulled Eddie aside to talk, to confess, but then-

Eddie telling him he's confused. Like Steve is a child learning new concepts and not an adult who has been questioning how he feels about men since he first noticed other boys in middle school.

Eddie telling him, 'you don't want this, man. Not really.'

It's not fair.

Robin came out to him, and he'd just wanted to make her laugh so she would quit looking so scared. Eddie came out to him, and Steve had thanked him for trusting him. Jonathan, Nancy, and Argyle confess to all dating each other and Steve congratulated them. But Steve comes out and gets told he's confused?

And Steve didn't even refute it. Just got so hurt he couldn't be there anymore. Left his own house because he'd told Eddie he had a crush on him, and asked if he'd like to go on a date sometime and Eddie said no and told him he was confused.

Eddie doesn't get to decide that for Steve! No one but himself can decide if he like guys or not. No one gets to tell him he's confused about what he's feeling.

It's- that's bullshit, is what it is!

Steve turns on his heel and marches back to his house. His hurt has fully morphed to anger now.

Steve hasn't run away from a fight since '83, and he's not going to start now.

He rips his front door open and is greeted to everyone just inside the door, in various states of putting their winter clothes back on. All the faces look concerned, but he scans for Eddie's.

Eddie who looks relieved for all of two seconds, when it seems to dawn on him that Steve is angry, and it's directed at him.

"The appropriate response," Steve growls as he steps through his door and punctuates those words by slamming it shut again. (It's not as satisfying this time, because he sees how it makes his friends jump.) He barrels on with his words, eyes never leaving Eddie, "when someone comes out to you, is to say 'thanks for telling me' or perhaps even 'thanks for trusting me' or, if one is so inclined, to just say 'cool, dude' but you don't get- you don't get to tell me I'm confused!"

Eddie takes a step back, knocking directly in Argyle, who steadies him, but he doesn't say anything.

Maybe Steve should be more calm about this, given the audience, but he's not able to stop the words now that they've started. "I'm not confused, and I know exactly what I'd be getting into. You don't get to- to try and make your rejection my fault. If you don't wanna date me, just say so. But you don't get to try and tell me how I feel about you!"

From the corner of his eye, he can see Nancy trying to subtly shift herself and Jonathan away from the door, probably to get out of what really should be a private conversation, but Jonathan's a bit preoccupied by catching Robin around the waist as she lunges towards Eddie.

"What the fuck did you say, Munson!" Robin growls, arms swinging out like she's going to claw Eddie to death.

Argyle has inched back a bit, putting distance between him and Eddie in case Robin breaks free. "You dudes should probably talk this out in private."

"Byers, if you don't let me go right now-"

"Robbie, I got this," Steve says, because Robin shouldn't be turning on Jonathan when he's done nothing wrong. Robin continues to glare at Eddie for a few seconds before she makes eyes contact with Steve. He raises his brows slight -I got this- and she furrows hers -are you sure?-, so he tilts his head -yes, really- and she deflates in Jonathan's arms and allows him to drag her away.

"We'll just be in the rec room," Nancy says, looping her arm through Argyles and following after Jonathan.

Eddie doesn't bolt, which is a bit more than Steve expected. They both just stare at each other until they hear the click of the rec room door.

"Steve-"

"That was fucked up, Eddie," Steve interrupts.

"Yeah. It was," Eddie says, but doesn't offer up more, even though Steve is waiting for an apology.

"That kind of reaction is exactly why I didn't come out sooner. What would be the fucking point if no one even believed me? Or worse, if you'd given me that kind of reaction like, six months ago, I probably never admit to liking guys out loud ever again. You can't just- you can't decide this kind of shit for other people!"

"I know! I- I freaked out, and panicked, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Steve," Eddie says, and he sounds sincere and looks almost fragile while saying it that Steve loses a bit of his steam. He doesn't want to just keep yelling at Eddie.

"Yeah. Well. Thanks for apologizing," Steve mutters, crossing his arms with a huff.

Eddie worries his bottom lip before he seems to gather all his courage and says, "have I fucked everything up between us?"

"No. Not- I'm going to, like, need some time to get over my crush, but no. It's- it'll just be take time-"

"No! I mean, I can't- if you don't, uh, like me like that anymore I get it, but I- what I meant was. Well. No, I guess that answered my question."

Steve is confused, now. For real, and not about his sexuality. "What?"

"What?"

"You did it again. Deciding for me if I liked you or not."

"Shit. Fuck! Sorry," Eddie drops his head into his hands and groans. "I'm fucking this up so bad."

"Than use, like, real, whole sentences and speak to me!"

"I like you!" Eddie blurts. "I have a crush on you, too, but I- I fucked it up!"

"Yeah. Kinda."

Eddie makes a really pathetic noise at that.

"Not so much we can't, like, figure it out, though," Steve offers. "Not, like, right now, because I'm hurt and angry, but like, I'm not going to stop liking you because of one fight. Not. Uh, not now that I know you like me, too."

"Oh," Eddie whispers, then frowns. "For real?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "I said it, didn't I?"

"Sorry, it's just, just good things don't happen to me. It's- I'm processing, okay."

Steve lets out a long-suffering sigh and heads towards the rec room. "If you want to leave to 'process' alone, I get it, but you're welcome to stay. We can get this party re-started and hang out."

Eddie's silent a moment, and Steve thinks he's going to ask if Steve's sure, but instead he gets a quiet, "yeah. I'd like to stay." and the sound of Eddie's footsteps following him to the rec room.

-

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss

[amygdalae]

I think when getting along with other people, its perfectly natural (and entirely inevitable) that you're going to bump elbows with others and treating confrontation/discomfort with a kneejerk "well we have to beef now and turn this small miscommunication/moment of friction into a Whole Thing" reaction, instead of doing your best to give your fellow people the benefit of the doubt, even if you got off on the wrong foot is really key. and in fact an essential skill for any grown adult. especially when operating within and without other communities or cultures