#Warm Feelings?

[bornonthesavage]

Tell Me "Don't", So I Can Crawl Back In Part 5

Part 4  Part 6

“What are some things people do with their friends?”

Dustin looked up from where he’d been fiddling with his radio. “Dude. That’s the saddest thing you’ve even asked me.”

Steve dropped the magazine he’d been holding onto his chest and glared across the room. “Shut up, no it’s not. It’s a genuine question.”

“Yeah, I know, that’s why it’s sad,” Dustin said, turning back to his radio. “That fact that you don’t know is pretty depressing.”

“No, because see, all the things I used to do with my friends don’t really apply anymore. With Tommy, we’d like, play basketball. Or go to parties and get drunk. And with the person I’m trying to become friends with now, those things won’t work.”

“I don’t see why you need other friends. You have me.”

Steve gave Dustin a flat look. “Dude, no offense, but if I want to keep my sanity, I really need to hang out with someone my own age. I like hanging out with you, obviously. But image if you didn’t have Mike or Will or Lucas. Just me.”

“Hmm, yeah, I guess I see your point,” Dustin said as static began to emit from the speaker. “Well then what’s the problem with this guy you’re trying to be friends with? It shouldn’t be that difficult to be friends with someone.”

And the thing was, Dustin was right. He’d always thought it should be easy to become someone’s friend, otherwise what’s the point? But it was different when you were older and trying to slide into an already established friend group. Especially when they came from such different social circles. But it wasn’t like Steve hadn’t been trying.

“I mean, there’s no problem. Eddie’s great. He’s actually pretty cool, in his own weird way. But he’s more like you. He’s into nerdy shit like D&D.”

Dustin opened his mouth, but Steve shut him down before he could start. “And no, I’m not going to play that game. I still have standards. But I’ve been sitting with him and his friends for a week now during lunch, and things are still sort of awkward. Even with just Eddie, there’s this, like, tension between us. But I’m not sure why. So I thought if I could maybe invite him out to do stuff, that might help ease us into a more comfortable friendship.”

Dustin finally shut off his radio and turned his full attention to Steve, standing as he began to pace. “Alright, well this seems like a pretty easy solution. We can brainstorm some standard friendship activities, you invite this Eddie guy to do them, and bam. Friendship.”

It sounded easy when Dustin put it like that. “Yeah but, what if it doesn’t work?”

“Then screw him!”

“Whoa, language.”

“Steve, listen.” Dustin came to a stop right in front of him. “You can’t force someone to be your friend. It doesn’t really work like that.”

Well that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “But—”

“Wait,” Dustin said, holding up a finger. “Just listen. You can put in as much effort as you like, but if he’s not interested in being friends, it’s not going to work. He needs to put effort in too.”

Steve lowered his eyes. Of course he knew that was true. He wasn’t so pathetic to cling onto someone who didn’t want him around. But the thing was, even though it was still a little awkward and there was definitely tension, Eddie did seem as if he liked having Steve around. He was always leaning into his space and making jokes and including Steve in conversations with the rest of his friends.

But he’d also had Steve’s number for three days and hadn’t called once. And it wasn’t like Steve could call him again. That would seem desperate. Which he wasn’t. So, it would have to be Eddie that made the next move. But it was driving Steve crazy. He wanted to invite Eddie out again, but how could he do that if he wouldn’t call?

“So, how do I encourage him to put effort in? I want to show him I’m serious about this.”

Dustin rubbed his chin, as if he were an old man with scruff. “Is he shy?”

The actually made Steve laugh. “No, not at all. He’s like, the least shy person I’ve ever met. He doesn’t care what anybody thinks about him.”

“Okay, well let’s think about this. Once you figure out a way of asking him, what would you want to do?”

Steve dropped his head back onto Dustin’s pillow. “Dude, that’s literally what I asked you. What do you and your friends do?”

“I don’t know, normal shit,” he said, dropping into his rollie chair. “We go to each other’s houses and watch movies. We have sleep overs. We go to the arcade and the bowling alley. We go see movies at the theater. We get ice cream. All sorts of shit.”

Steve sat up and pointed a finger at him. “Yeah, yeah dude. That’s good stuff. Write that down for me.”

“Can’t you just remember it?”

“Dude.”

“Fine, fine.”

Dustin ripped a page out of his notebook and began to write out his list of activities. It wasn’t a fully comprehensive list by any means. Steve would have to think about what to add to it. But it was a start. Dustin handed it to him with a flourish, and Steve took it to look over.

“Perfect. Now I just have to figure out a way to ask him without looking desperate.”

Dustin snorted. “You are desperate.”

Steve chucked a pillow at his head. “Shut up, you little twerp. This isn’t desperation. This is me, putting in effort.”

He left Dustin’s house not long after that. Some nights he would stay for dinner at Claudia’s insistence, but right now he needed to be alone to think. Why was making friends so damn difficult? Steve really felt as if it shouldn’t be, but then that led him to ask a question he’d really rather not think about. Was it him? Was he just so unpleasant that no matter how hard he tried, people would always be repelled by him? He didn’t think he was that bad, at least not anymore.

But then goddammit, why hadn’t Eddie called? Steve had thought about asking him while at school, but he wasn’t that needy yet. He wasn’t going to beg Eddie Munson to talk to him. This was just a matter of patience. Which he could be, no matter what Dustin thought. Hell, he was the king of cool. The cool master. Just because he wanted friends, that didn’t mean he needed them.

That concept was put to the test almost immediately, as Steve drove down the darkening road back to his house. Because as he rounded a corner, his headlights illuminated a figure walking ahead on the side of the road. Steve would recognize that hair anywhere. He slammed on the breaks as he pulled up beside Eddie, bringing the car to an abrupt stop.

“Eddie!”

Eddie jumped and spun toward the car, one hand raised as if in self-defense. Even in the fading light of the evening, Steve could see Eddie’s big brown eyes wide with surprise. Steve grinned and leaned out his open window.

“Dude,” Eddie said, placing a hand over his chest. “Don’t do that! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Steve snorted. “Geez, sorry. Didn’t realize the big bad dungeon master scared so easily.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. How would you, King Steve, react to a random car screeching to halt beside you on an empty street in the dark?”

Huh, fair. Steve would probably have been ready for another fight. “Where are you headed?”

“Oh, I’m on a journey back to my far away lair, where I shall finally rest my weary bones and hunker down with a hearty mead.”

Steve blinked. “Of course. Silly me. Where are you coming from?”

Eddie grinned, as if pleased Steve was playing along. “Gareth’s. We had band practice, and my poor darling van is decommissioned until I get the part I need on Monday.”

“Wait,” Steve glanced down the darkening road. “Don’t you live at the trailer park?”

“That I do, fair Steven.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s not my name. Second, you shouldn’t be walking out here after dark. It’s not safe.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Sorry, my teleportation abilities are also on the fritz right now.”

“Dude, that’s not what I meant. Why didn’t you just call me? I could have given you a ride.”

For several long seconds, Eddie just stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. He opened his mouth, then closed it, before repeating the motion a few times. It was kind of funny, like he was doing a really bad impression of a fish. Finally, he shook his head.

“I, uh, didn’t know I could. I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

Steve scoffed and reached over to open his passenger door. “You wouldn’t be bothering me. I give the kids rides all the time. Come on, hop in. Let me drive you.”

Eddie only hesitated for a moment more, before kicking into action and darting around the car. He climbed in, bringing with him the faint smell of weed and some sort of citrus cologne. It should have been gross, but Steve found he actually liked it. In the dim light of the car, he shot Eddie a smile.

“Seriously dude, the next time you need a ride anywhere, shoot me a call. It’s not a problem at all. I don’t have much going on.”

“Right,” Eddie said, staring at him. Then, as if catching himself, he jerked his head away to look out the window. “I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.”

“Good.”

Steve began to drive again, now heading in the direction of the trailer park. He’d never been there before, but he’d driven past it enough times to not need directions. Eddie was oddly quiet as they went. When Steve snuck a glance, he saw Eddie twisting his rings around on his fingers. Was he nervous? That thought made something sink in Steve’s stomach. He’d been trying so hard to show Eddie that he was safe, that he wasn’t the same person he used to be. But maybe he hadn’t made all that much progress. But it was fine. He could be patient.

“So, you’re in a band?”

Eddie seemed to jerk out of his thoughts. “What? Oh, yeah. Corroded Coffin. We mostly do metal covers, but we also write and perform some of our own stuff.”

Steve shook his head. “Of course you’d be in a metal band.”

“Hey.” Eddie pointed a finger at him, the nail painted black. “I kindly ask you to remove the attitude from your tone. There will be no trash talking metal in my presence.”

“I wasn’t trash talking it,” Steve insisted. “It’s just… metal is so loud.”

“Yeah, Steve, that’s kind of the point. It’s badass, unlike that sugar pop crap you probably listen to. I bet you’re into like, Wham! and shit. You probably have ABBA’s best of hits on constant repeat.”

Steve scowled. He was not about to admit to Eddie that that very tape was currently tucked into his glove box right that moment.

“There’s nothing wrong with liking pop music. Not all of us can be so special and different like you.”

Eddie shot him wide grin. “And don’t you forget it.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You like it.”

“Yeah, so?”

Eddie snapped his mouth shut. He clearly hadn’t been expecting that. It felt good to throw Eddie off, to keep him on his toes. Steve got the feeling that not enough people were able to do that. He glanced back at Eddie. Yep, he was back to twisting his rings.

“Oh, um,” Eddie began, clearing his throat. “Speaking of my band. We’re playing at the Hideout this Wednesday at eight. It’s nothing special, we do it every other week. But I wanted to invite you, if you wanted to come.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. An invite to watch his band? Yeah, okay, that was definitely something someone would extend to a friend. And it was the perfect opportunity to ingratiate himself in with Eddie and the rest of his friends. Apparently, he took too long to answer because Eddie began to ramble again.

“But you don’t have to, of course. I know it’s not your scene, and you’re not into the music. Plus, the bar is a total shithole. Probably not up to King Steve’s usual standards, so it’s fine if you’d rather skip it. I’m not, like, going to force you. I just thought, hey, Steve’s here. Why not ask him to come. But if you’d rather not I get it—”

“Eddie,” Steve said, cutting him off.

He snapped his mouth shut and turned those big brown eyes on him. “Yeah?”

The smile he gave this time was gentle. Encouraging. “I’d love to come. I’ll be there.”

Eddie’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Like I said, it’s not your thing.”

“True. But you’ll be there, so that means I can make it my thing.”

When Steve glanced over at him again, he didn’t understand the look Eddie was giving him. He almost looked a little awestruck, but there was also confusion in the twist of his brows. Steve reached over and patted him on the shoulder.

“Come on, don’t look at me like that. Is it really so crazy that I want to hang out with you?”

“I mean, yeah, kind of. If someone had told me a few months ago that I would be driving in King Steve’s car, willingly inviting him to watch my band, and him agreeing, I’d have told them they smoked way too much of my stash.”

Steve sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not King Steve anymore. Just Steve. I’m done with all that artificial shit, and I’m never going back. I want something real. Something that makes me feel anything more than dull acceptance of what I’ve always been told I should be. What I should want. I’m done with… with the bullshit. I just want real.”

Eddie was quiet for a minute. The rumble of the car felt loud, as if it were growling its displeasure with Steve’s vulnerability. That wouldn’t surprise him. It was a gift from his father, after all. When Eddie spoke, his voice was hesitant. “And… you think I’m real?”

“Dude, are you kidding?” he asked, looking at him with raised eyebrows. “You’re the realest person I’ve ever met. You’re so weird, but in a good way. And like, yeah, I don’t know you that well yet. But I’d like the chance to change that. If you’ll let me.”

Steve was pretty sure he heard Eddie mutter the word “Jesus” under his breath. It seemed like Eddie wanted to say something more, but just then Steve pulled into the trailer park and Eddie had to give him directions to the correct trailer. Once they came to stop beside Eddie’s van, he remained in the car. Steve tapped his fingers on the wheel.

“So, I’ll uh, see you on Wednesday? Or, I mean, I’ll see you on Monday at lunch, but I’ll see you at the show on Wednesday.”

The look Eddie gave him then looked almost fond. “Yeah, Stevie, I’ll see you then.”

Stevie. That was new. It was… nice. A better nickname than the ones he’d carried like cargo in the past. And it didn’t even look like Eddie had meant to say it, just a casual flip of a word, as if it were as easy as that. And god, Steve wanted it to be. Easy, that is. Nothing ever was, for him.

“Cool. Later, man. Call me if you want. I’ll be home.”

Eddie climbed out of the car and slammed the door behind him before dropping down to rest his forearms on the open window. “Well, if Sir Steve is asking me to call on him, how could I possibly refuse?”

“Hey, I said—”

“I know, I know. Not a king. But you could still be a knight. I always thought they were cooler anyways.”

With that, Eddie straightened up and sauntered away, his hand slipping into his back pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes as he went. Something warm settled in Steve’s chest as he watched him go. Eddie stopped at his doorstep and turned back, a cig hanging from his lips as he lifted his hand in a wave. Before Steve could return it, he’d already turned away and pushed his way into the trailer.

Steve sat there for a few moments more, just staring at where Eddie had been. A knight, he’d said. Now, Steve didn’t know much about history or any of that fantasy stuff Dustin was always going on about, but he did know enough to understand that knights were good guys. Noble, right? Protected those who needed it, defended those who couldn’t defend themselves. They were fighters. Just like Steve. Yeah. A knight. He could be that.  

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[pangur-and-grim]

his forehead is wrinkly from worrying too much

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[thelostmoongazer]

more figuring out how i wanna draw the Lamb :3

[noirandchocolate]

Several weeks ago one of my coworkers called me over into her cubicle and gave me a very unexpected gift. Her mother passed away recently, and she'd been packing stuff up at her condo to give to relatives and sell, so the home could be sold. The mother was an avid knitter and crocheter, and when my coworker came upon her stash of equipment, she told me, she "immediately thought of me as someone who might get some use out of it."

So, I have inherited a varied collection of knitting needles and crochet hooks, cable needles, sewing needles, and, best of all, now-out-of-print pattern books, mostly for blankets, because that was what this lady loved to make most. Plus, I also have a bunch of gauge swatches she made, pinned to little bits of card covered in perfect schoolteacher handwriting setting out the patterns they were made to test.

And also...

My coworker brought another bag, full of yarn and...knitted blanket squares. Her mother's last started project, before she got too sick to continue. And she asked if there was anything I could do with it.

It turned out, there are twelve completed squares, and I quickly located the pattern book they are from amid those given to me. It's a book of 60 patterns, meant to be put together however the maker wishes into blankets of 20 squares. I figured out which of the numbered patterns were already made, and selected eight more that I thought might go well with them.

So now! I am working on completing! My coworker's mother's last knitting project!

And I really am feeling very good about doing it.

[t0bey]

“Reunion at Dawn”

happy 5th anniversary, three houses!!!

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

[beif0ngs]

Pokémon Concierge

A close-up look at some of the Pokémon in Pokémon Concierge

[lilislegacy]

i feel like percy is the person that people bring with them when they need to go somewhere or do something potentially dangerous. or more realistically, he’s the one who people’s loved ones tell them to take with. it just makes people feel better knowing percy is there. you know what i mean?

sally has a meeting with someone who sounds a bit weird (and paul can’t go)? paul tells her to bring percy.

paul needs to go to a really sketchy part of town? sally asks him to bring percy

piper got a weird anonymous note and needs to go meet them at a location? annabeth tells her to bring percy

leo has to go get some magic machine part from a really shady dealer? piper tells him to bring percy

frank has to go on an unofficial quest to investigate some shady legion history, and hazel has to stay with camp? hazel tells him to bring percy

and it’s NOT because any of these people can’t take care of themselves. they are all strong and brave and badass, and can handle anything. but for one, percy is intimidating as hell. his “wolf stare” sends literal gangs running the other way. you can avoid conflict before it even happens, because no one is messing with percy. and second, percy just makes you feel safe. his presence is comforting. not only has he been through all the demigod-hero-world-saving shit, and is powerful as hell, but he also grew up in new york city. he can handle pretty much any situation. plus he’s super sweet and funny, and you can always count on him to make you laugh and decrease your anxiety. and he’s always got your back. he takes care of the people he loves.

he’s just the best company. for so many reasons.

when in doubt, bring percy

[lotus-pear]

hngghh domestic......

[hinamie]

alongside someone like you

[punkitt-is-here]

she thinks about it at random and starts giggling to herself

[montereybayaquarium]

We just want to put these on your ray-dar 😉

Bat rays call coral reefs, kelp forests, and sandy-bottom bays their home. One of these habitats is our very own local wetland, the Elkhorn Slough–home to southern sea otters, thousands of migratory birds, and an important nursery and feeding grounds for bat rays. 

By raising awareness of these animals, voting, and letting our elected leaders at the local, state, and federal levels know we support legislation that protects these ecosystems, we can ensure that bat rays continue to thrive in their environment.

[inkskinned]

you're in the habit of denying yourself things.

if someone asked you directly, you would say that you love a little treat. you like iced coffee and getting the cookie. you drink juice out of a fancy cup sometimes, and often do use your candles until they gutter out helplessly.

but you hesitate about buying the 20 dollar hand mixer because, like. you could just use your arms. you weren't raised rich. you don't get to just spend the 20 dollars (remember when that could cover lunch?), at least - you don't spend that without agonizing over it first, trying to figure out the cost-benefits like you are defending yourself in front of a jury. yes, this rice cooker could seriously help you. but you do know how to make stovetop rice and it really isn't that hard. how many pies or brownies would you actually make, in order to make that hand mixer worthwhile?

what's wild is that if the money was for a friend, it would already be spent. you'd fork over 40 without blinking an eye, just to make them happy. the difference is that it's for you, so you need to justify it.

and it sneaks in. you ration yourself without meaning to - you don't finish the pint of ice cream, even though you want to. the next time you go to the store, you say ah, i really shouldn't, and then you walk away. you save little bits of your precious things - just in case. sometimes you even go so far as putting that one thing in your shopping cart. and then just leaving it there, because maybe-one-day, but not right now, there's other stuff going on.

you do self-care, of course. but you don't do it more than like, 3 days in a row. after that it just feels a little bit over-the-edge. like. you can't live in decadence, the economy is so bad right now, kid.

so you don't buy the rice cooker. you can-and-will spend the time over the stove. you can withstand the little sorrows. denial and discipline are practically synonyms. and you're not spoiled.

it's just - it's not always a rice cooker. sometimes it is a person or a job or a hug. sometimes it is asking for help. sometimes it is the summer and your college degree. sometimes it is looking down at scabbed knees and feeling a strange kind of falling, like you can't even recognize the girl you used to be. sometimes it is your handprint looking unsteady.

sometimes it is tuesday, and you didn't get fired, and you want to celebrate. but what is it you like, even? you search around your little heart and come up empty. you're so used to denying that all your desires draw a blank.

oh fuck. see, this is the perfect opportunity. if you had a mixer, you'd make a cake.

[melcholune]

Hand holding has to be the most intimate thing that exists. I don’t care what anyone says, holding hands is one of the most beautiful part of being human. Be it romantic or platonic.

You’re scared? Let me hold your hand. You’ve lost your way? Let me hold your hand. Your hand is cold? Let me hold your hand. You’re tired? Let me hold your hand. You feel down? Let me hold your hand. You feel happy? Let me hold your hand.

[creekfiend]

when items which claim to be made of linen are like "hand wash gentle only do not use machines" it's soooo. guys linen is like. the durable fiber. I should be able to fucking boil this and hit it with rocks biweekly. you are doing something wrong