#it goes well when he's himself

[will80sbyers]

@theladyrebecca2 said it best:

At least Dustin learned the lesson...

[cubbihue]

so pixies regularly try to take over fairyworld is timmy on the pixie side?

At first, Timmy was adamantly against the Pixies. He'd tell Jorgen every time he got a notice of their plans to take over Fairyworld, and work to stop it! But it gets a bit harder to resist against your own court the longer you hang out with them.

In the present time, Timmy schedules to be out of FairyWorld during their takeovers. He doesn't try to stop them, but also refuses to be anywhere near when it happens.

He... doesn't like how he's slowly starting to cheer for them. Or how their arguments are becoming more convincing. Or how he's struggling to recall why he was so against them to begin with.

There will come a point where he becomes an active participant. Timmy worries that it's coming sooner than he'd like.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[turtleblogatlast]

I think a lot about Leo’s tendency to push his way into the spotlight despite clearly being a natural in the shadows. Hell, you could argue that his worst moments are when he’s forcing himself onstage, and his best are when he does things no one notices until it’s already been done.

[science-lings]

I think we forget that Ryunosuke is funny actually

[estrellami-1]

Anything

Trigger warning: discussions of death. Not a main character, but it does happen. Lots of angst. Lots of hurt/comfort. I’ll post it in the tags as well.

Steve has a problem.

It’s not a big problem, not really, but his brain won’t let it go and is making it a bigger deal than it really is.

Eddie won’t ride in his car alone.

With the kids, sure; he’ll practically dive into the backseat, noogie Dustin, generally make a nuisance of himself.

But if it’s just the two of them? If Steve insists on driving, Eddie will take his van. There’s no problem if Steve wants to ride with Eddie. But the other way around? Eddie riding with Steve? That doesn’t happen. And Steve has no idea why.

“Talk to him, Dingus,” is Robin’s advice. He’d flip her off, but unfortunately he thinks she’s right: this is something they’re gonna have to talk through.

So Steve pulls on his big-boy pants and marches himself to the Munsons’ trailer, knocking on the door and waiting expectantly.

He doesn’t expect Wayne, but maybe he should’ve, because that’s who answers the door. “Hi, Steve. You’re here for Eddie, I bet, he’ll be in his room.” He moves aside to let Steve in, and Steve thanks him after a second before moving down the hall to Eddie’s room.

He hears him before he sees him; or, more accurately, he hears his guitar. He’s playing the acoustic tonight, instead of his usual sweetheart, so Steve knocks instead of walking in like he’d usually do.

The guitar stops, and Steve hears it being put down, hears a heavy sigh. “Wayne, I’m not really in the- oh.” He opens the door as he speaks and blinks at Steve. After a second, he smiles. “Hey, man, c’mon in.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Are you okay?” 

Eddie purses his lips. “Define okay. I’m not currently being eaten by bats, y’know? But playing the acoustic always reminds me of my Ma.”

“Ah.” Steve shifts. “Sorry, man. Maybe I should come back later.”

Eddie shrugs. “You’re here now, aren’t you? I can’t be that terrible company.”

Steve snorts. “No, I just… I had a question, but it can wait.”

Eddie tilts his head. “You do that a lot, y’know?” He turns, sits on his bed. Motions Steve into his room.

Steve sits next to him, more comfortable here than in his own room. “Do what?”

“Put yourself last.” He shrugs. “You can ask me. If I don’t wanna answer, I won’t.”

Steve scrunches his nose. “Okay, fine. Why won’t you ride in my car?”

Eddie frowns. “I do, though? Hell, I did what, two days ago? You, me and Dustin went to that comic store in Indy.”

“Okay, let me rephrase. Why won’t you ride passenger in my car, alone? Without any of the kids? And even two days ago you were in the backseat with Dustin.” He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal, I’m just curious.”

Eddie takes a breath. “No, it’s- yeah. You should know.” He clears his throat, grabs the acoustic again. Plays a riff of some sort, fingers dancing over the frets. “I think I feel like I have to save everyone. Or at least be in a position where I can save them, if the need arises.” He swallows, takes another breath. His fingers still. They tremble over the strings. “Did I ever tell you how my ma died?”

Now it’s Steve’s turn to inhale sharply. He shakes his head. “We can stop,” he says. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Eddie smiles ruefully. “I do, though.” He shakes his head. “I was… I was six. It was three days before my seventh birthday. We were driving home from the city. Ma was drivin’, an’ she let me sit in the front seat, since it was almost my birthday. Or- that’s what she said. I think it was so we couldn’t stop her. Couldn’t save her.” He swallows. His eyes are glassy. His accent is thick, the way it gets when he’s thinking about her, or when he’s emotional. His left hand grips the neck of the guitar tightly. Steve worries for his fingers. “We weren’t goin’ that fast, even, but forty’s enough when-” he shakes his head, looks away. Coughs out something that wanted to be a sob. Steve takes the guitar, takes Eddie’s hand. Puts the guitar down. Doesn’t let go of Eddie. “She unbuckled her belt. Dad didn’t see it. I did. Didn’t say anythin’. Maybe I should’ve, I dunno.” He squeezes Steve’s hand. “Then it all happened so fast… she smiled at me, an’ opened her door, an’ next thing I knew-” he wipes at tears on his cheeks. “D’you know what happens to a human head under the wheel of a car at forty miles an hour?”

Steve gasps, grips Eddie’s hand just as tightly. Pulls Eddie in when he begins to shake. “An’ I know why, now,” he whispers. “Dad weren’t good to her. I’unno what he done t’her. I know she did what she could. But I was there. I was right there.” He sniffles, trembles with the effort of keeping his sobs in. Somehow succeeds. “So that’s why. Figure if a kid were to try… I could stop ‘em. Figure if you were to try…”

“You could stop me.” Steve holds him tight. “I won’t,” he whispers. “I swear to you, I won’t.”

“I know,” Eddie whispers back. “But I gotta be able to try.”

“Christ, Eds,” Steve whispers. “I was gonna ask if you’re okay but that’s a stupid question.”

Eddie giggles, still teary-eyed. “Just a little bit.”

Steve pulls away to look him in the eye. “I’m staying tonight, okay? Nightmares are always worse after something like this.”

“Then you should go home,” Eddie argues. “Sleep while you can.”

“Nightmares are always easier with someone else.”

“Damn you, that’s true.” They both laugh a little.

Just then, Wayne comes in with two steaming mugs. “Listen to your boy, son,” he says to Eddie, handing over one of the mugs. He gives Steve the other with a wink. “Lavender tea with a shit ton of honey. Learned it from my ma.”

“Not my boy, Wayne,” Eddie grumbles, but thanks him for the tea anyways.

Steve thanks him too, and he winks again before leaving. Eddie rolls his eyes. “I’d apologize for him, but you’d just defend him.”

“Hey, I like Wayne.”

“I know. Sometimes I think you like him more than you like me.”

Steve chuckles. “Never. You’re my favorite.” He moves so they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, drinking their tea, leaning against each other. It’s peaceful, and soon enough Eddie’s yawning and dropping his head onto Steve’s shoulder. “Imma pass out soon.”

“Then let’s get you up to brush your teeth before you do.”

Eddie groans like the toddler he secretly is. “I don’t wanna.”

“Yeah, and you don’t wanna go to the dentist to get teeth pulled, either, now do you?”

“Shuddup.”

“Wow. Real master of words here. Really feeling that Dungeon Master power.”

Eddie thumps his arm, but snickers, and really that’s what Steve was going for in the first place, so he just smiles and leads Eddie to the bathroom.

Soon enough they’re in bed, tucked in next to each other, not quite packed like sardines and it’s only because of the heat outside that Steve isn’t more upset not to have more of a reason to touch Eddie. “Night, Eds,” he murmurs, smiling when Eddie rolls over to face him and is temporarily blinded by his own hair. Steve helps move his hair, grabs at Eddie’s hand when he’s done. “Wake me up if the nightmare doesn’t, okay?”

“C’mon, Steve, I can deal with them-”

“I know you can,” Steve answers. “But I want to be up if you are. I want to help if I can. Please, Eddie?”

Eddie sighs after a second. “Damn you,” he says, “I can’t say no to you.” He’s smiling, despite his words, so Steve smiles back.

“Thank you.”

“G’night, Stevie.”

“Night, Eds.”

Steve wakes up to Eddie crying out in his sleep. Even with his eyes closed, he’s got tears streaming down his cheeks. Steve sits up, turns on the lamp, and puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Eddie?”

He rolls over, away from Steve, and continues sobbing. “Eds? Are you awake?” No answer, so Steve puts his hand back on Eddie’s shoulder and shakes a little. “Eddie, wake up!”

He’s up with an aborted yell and a flail of limbs, sitting up and staring into the darkness of his room, trembling. He sniffs and turns to face Steve, finally realizing he’s there, and Steve opens his arms for a hug.

He collapses into Steve’s arms, face mashed into the side of Steve’s neck, arms snaking around Steve’s torso to give an ineffectual tug. Steve takes the hint and inches closer until they’re practically hip-to-hip. “Y’wanna talk about it?” He asks. Eddie sniffs and shakes his head. “Y’want me to talk? To distract you?” Eddie nods. “Okay. Uh… I may have bitten myself in the butt with this one, ‘cause I’m not a great storyteller, not like you are, but did you know we actually met in middle school?”

No answer. “We did. Hawkins Middle was putting on its annual talent show. Now, back then, I was nobody. No one knew me, my name, my parents… nothing. I had one friend named Tommy, who I’d grown up with. Of course, you know him, and you know what happened between us, but he was my only friend back then. I didn’t tell anyone, but I signed up for the talent show. I didn’t even know what I wanted to do, I just knew I wanted to do something. I’ve always had a pretty decent voice, so I figured I could just sing, if I couldn’t figure out anything else to do. Knew I’d at least beat out Tammy Thompson.” He shifts so Eddie’s hair is no longer a choking hazard and pets his hand over Eddie’s head, doing his best to tame the wild curls. “So it’s the night of the talent show, right? And it feels like the whole school is there. I’m sitting backstage, peeking through the curtains, and am about to have my very first panic attack. Someone bumps into me and knocks me over. They tell me to watch where I’m going, even though I wasn’t moving. So now I’m on the ground, thinking about the crowd, and the noise is getting to be too much, and someone grabs my hand and it all… stops. Just like that. It’s silent, other than, like, a ringing sound in my ears. And this boy, the one who grabbed my hand, kneels in front of me, puts my hand on his chest-” Steve demonstrates, moving so he can grab Eddie’s hand and put it on his chest, just over his heart. “-and tells me to breathe with him. In, out. In, out. He raised his hand when we breathed in, and lowered it when we breathed out. In, out. In, out. And when my breathing’s calmed down, he tells me to name five things I can see. And you know what I said first?”

Eddie furrows his brows. “My… my hair?”

“Yup,” Steve nods. “But you’d just had it shaved off, so d’you know what I really saw first?”

“What?”

Steve giggles. “Your ears.”

Eddie groans and ducks his head, pressing his forehead into Steve’s chest. “Hated my ears.”

“I’m gonna say something that’s gonna sound mean, but is actually a compliment,” Steve warns him. “Your ears reminded me of Dumbo. I always loved that movie, the reminder that we don’t have to change who we are in order to be loved. That sometimes the things we hate most about ourselves, the things people tease us about the most, are actually the things that help us most, in the end.” He guides Eddie to lay down. “And I’m not saying your ears are what saved you. But I am saying they reminded me that everything, maybe, isn’t entirely hopeless.” He smiles, tucks Eddie’s hair behind his ear. Says, “I like your ears.”

Said ear burns red. “You’d be one of the few.”

“That’s okay.”

“What’s your thing? Your… ears?”

Steve hums. “Did you know I cried a lot as a kid? I was very emotional, very easily moved. My dad always hated it, so I learned to cover it up. But I think it’s what got me here in the end. I could’ve told Dustin I didn’t have time to help him, but I didn’t. I got roped into this whole mess, but it’s how I got to know him and the kids. It’s how I got to know Robin and you.”

Eddie smiles. “I’m glad you cried as a kid.”

Steve laughs. “Yeah. Me too.” He shifts, a little closer, a little more down the bed so their eyes are level. “D’you wanna talk about it?”

“There’s nothing I want less.”

“D’you think you can sleep?”

Eddie takes a breath. Steve feels the exhale over his cheek. “Maybe.”

“M’kay. Lemme know if you can’t.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

“Eddie.”

He giggles. “I’m kidding. I’ll let you know. I just… won’t stop talking at you until you answer.”

Steve hums, lets his eyes slip shut. “I’ll always answer.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, so soft. It makes something warm unfurl in Steve’s chest. “I know you will.”

Steve reaches out, squeezes Eddie’s hand in answer. Lets sleep drag him down the way it’s wanted to since he lay back down.

He doesn’t think about the fact that their hands are still clasped.

He’s the first one up in the morning, and he’s a little annoyed by it because they’d shifted during the night, so Steve is no longer facing Eddie.

His annoyance lasts for all of two seconds before he realizes there’s a warm weight behind him and over his hip, and he figures out it’s because Eddie is behind him, arm over Steve’s hip, fingers curled against the little bit of skin visible from Steve’s shirt riding up during the night.

Steve smiles, sighs, and lets his eyes sink shut again.

He doesn’t sleep, just kind of drifts, so he feels it when Eddie wakes up. He feels him tense in a stretch, feels his forehead press against Steve’s spine, feels his fingers curl farther into Steve’s stomach.

He feels Eddie wake up fully and realize the position he’s in. Feels him hum, then stiffen, slowly pulling away. Steve aches about it, but doesn’t move until he’s out of bed completely, taking the time then to roll over as if he’d just woken up. “M’rn’n,” he mumbles, not exaggerating the sleep-rough in his voice at all.

“Mornin’,” Eddie yawns. “How’d you sleep?”

Steve hums, stretches, sits up. “Think I should be asking you that.”

Eddie smiles. “I slept fine. Now how about you?”

“No more nightmares?”

“Not at all. Think you chased ‘em all away.”

“Good.”

“Steve.”

“What?”

“How did you sleep?”

“Oh. Fine. Great.”

Eddie hums, but takes his word for it, offers his hand to help Steve up, which he accepts.

“Can I ask you something that I’m pretty sure you’re not gonna want to answer?”

Eddie grins crookedly. “You can ask me anything, Stevie. If I don’t wanna answer, I won’t.” He sits back on the bed, next to Steve. “What is it?”

“What was your dad like?”

Eddie blows out a breath, looks away. “Jesus, first thing in the morning, too. Uh… y’know how you said your dad is a grade-A asshole?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Last I heard, he’s in the state prison for the next… five? Ten? Years. I dunno, don’t really keep track. Was just little things at first, petty theft, then he got an ego and started stealing cars, met a guy who could clean ‘em, and he just…” he shakes his head. “Wayne says he got too big for his britches. I say he got what was coming to him. He tried to rob someone and it… didn’t go well. He got caught, the owner tried to scare him off, swung first, but it doesn’t matter who swung first when he’s dead and my dad was trespassing, right? Tried to say it was self-defense, but…”

“But he was trespassing,” Steve nods.

“Exactly. He got twenty-five for that, and it’s been… twelve years? So I guess he’s got… thirteen left. Not five or ten. Guess it feels like he’s been gone that long.” He sighs. “I went to live with Wayne before that, though… I had a friend, he was my best friend, and my dad… really didn’t like how close we were. Spit out a couple’a slurs, said something about sending me to a camp.” Steve’s breath catches. “I called Wayne that night. Poor guy drove that night, was there by… one in the morning? Picked me up and I’ve never looked back.” He shrugs, picks at his comforter. “Turns out Dad was right about me, but Wayne’s never had an issue, so.” He shrugs. His fingers belie his nerves.

“I think, if I were to ever tell my dad,” Steve says quietly, “a camp would be the least of my issues.”

Eddie’s fingers still for a second before continuing, not fidgeting quite as quickly as before. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t have to tell him.”

“I think I do, though.”

“How so?”

“He’s got this… way. Of just proving himself right, every time. It’s why I haven’t left yet. He always finds a way to twist it around and show me I can’t make it on my own. Not on my Family Video salary.”

Eddie hums. “Maybe not on your own,” he admits. “But with a person or two? There’s Family Videos in other cities. Ask to transfer. Robin’s been making noise about heading to Indy, right?”

“I think she just wants out of Hawkins, and Indy is the only feasible place to her.”

“Very understandable. Where would you go, Steve? If you could go anywhere?”

Steve sighs. “That’s the problem, though. I can’t leave the kids.”

Eddie chuckles. “I should’ve known. Then why not find a place in between? Maybe on the edge of town?”

“We’re still both on a Family Video salary. I don’t think even combined we could afford anything.” Steve tilts his head. “You said a person or two. Who’s the other person?”

“Ah,” Eddie says. “Well, not to come between the platonic soulmates, but I’m sure Wayne would love to have his life back.”

Steve snorts. “Robin loves you almost as much as I do, Eds, of course you’re welcome.”

Eddie ignores that, for the sake of his own sanity. “Well,” he says instead. “Maybe it’s time to take a crack at those newspapers Wayne’s been hoarding.”

“Maybe it is,” Steve says, a strange sort of smile playing across his lips. “And I can ask people. You’d be surprised at the amount of gossip I hear at work.”

“Oh, I believe it, trust me. Or are you forgetting I use to hang around Sam Goody?”

“Oh, god,” Steve laughs, “I had forgotten that, yeah.” He sighs. “D’you think we would’ve been friends back then? If we’d known each other?”

“I don’t think so.” Eddie chews at his bottom lip. “Not because of you, but because of me. I was still stuck in that high school hierarchal shit, y’know? I would’ve seen you as an asshole jock even though you weren’t anymore.”

“I think I’m still working on it.”

“I think we’re all working on being who we want to be.” He stands and offers Steve a hand up with a grin. “And y’know what helps with that?”

Steve chuckles, places his hand in Eddie’s. “What’s that?”

“Pancakes,” he says decisively. “C’mon, let’s go bully Wayne into making us some.”

“And by bully, you mean ask once.”

Eddie hums. “Same difference.”

He waltzes into the living room, arms spread wide. “Sir Wayne! Our visiting prince has requested pancakes this fine morn.”

Wayne squints at him. “I’m your king, dipshit,” he says, lip quirked up in a smile as he winks at Steve. “Make your own damn pancakes.”

“Wayne!” Eddie cries. “Betrayal! Betrayal of the highest order!”

“You’ll live,” Wayne deadpans. Steve giggles.

Eddie narrows his eyes at Wayne. “Fine,” he says. “We will make our own. But there shall be no extra for you, sir!”

Following him to the kitchen, Steve says, “We’ll make extra.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Wayne returns, “but I’d ‘preciate it.”

In the kitchen, Eddie sighs with his head halfway in a cabinet. “Okay, so we don’t have mix.”

“That’s okay,” Steve says. “I can make them from scratch.”

“Or,” Eddie says, turning to Steve with a grin. “We can go out.”

“We could,” Steve allows. “But then Wayne wouldn’t get any.”

Eddie hops backwards onto the counter and leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Y’know how I said we wouldn’t have been friends if we’d met earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“It really would’ve been entirely my fault.” He sighs. “You’re just… so nice. And it would’ve been unbelievable, for me, because the Munson Doctrine dictates that all jocks are assholes and stay jockish assholes. I think what happened… had to happen, if we were gonna be friends.”

Steve worries his lip. “Then… is it bad if I say I’m glad it happened? If only for that reason?”

“Only if I’m also glad it happened, for that reason,” Eddie responds quietly. “Y’know the only other person I’ve told about my ma is Jeff?”

“I’m…” he pauses, scrunching his nose. “I wanna say I’m honored, but that sounds weird.”

Eddie chuckles. “I know what you mean, Stevie.”

Steve nods, and they stay there for a minute, looking at each other, until Steve looks away with a sigh. “Alright,” he says, pancakes?”

Eddie gusts out a sigh. “Please.”

Steve chuckles and shoves the flour towards Eddie. “Here. Two cups.”

Eddie frowns. “Only?”

“For now. We can always make more later if we need to.”

Eddie shrugs, but nods at Steve, as if deferring to his expertise. “D’you have eggs?”

“Uh.” Eddie checks the fridge, then the cabinet. “No, but we’ve got Spam?”

Steve snorts. “That works. Wanna cut up a can and fry it?”

“Works for me.”

And so they work, side by side, until breakfast is ready and they’re all three eating side by side.

After, Wayne stretches in his seat, glances at the clock, and mutters something underneath his breath as he gets up. “Thanks for breakfast, boys. Steve, you gonna be here for dinner?”

“Uh,” Steve says, glancing at Eddie. “Unless Ed kicks me out.”

“Never,” Eddie swears. 

“I’ll pick up burgers on my way back,” Wayne decides. “That work for you two?”

“Definitely,” Eddie nods.

“Sure. Thank you, Wayne.”

“Son,” Wayne starts, then shakes his head. 

Steve gets the message: he belongs here. His cheeks burn. “Thanks, Wayne,” he murmurs.

Wayne ruffles his hair as he passes.

“So,” Eddie asks, once it’s just the two of them. “Any plans for the day?”

Steve makes a face. “I gotta work at two, but I’m free till then.”

Eddie snorts. “Lemme guess, you’re working alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Well not today!” Eddie says brightly. “Why don’t I come with?”

Steve blinks. “Because… why would you?”

“Cause you’re my friend, Stevie. I wanna hang out with you but I can’t do that if you’re at work and I’m here.”

Steve snickers. “I guess we can talk about moving in together. Tuesdays are always the slowest day of the week.”

“Yeah! Wayne’s got the papers around here somewhere.” He trails off, looking around, then bounds over to the TV with a triumphant, “Ha!” He reaches into the crate the TV’s sitting on and pulls out a stack of newspapers. “Okay, we don’t want anything from last year… beginning of this year might be too old…” he hesitates, looking at Steve. “Maybe since Spring Break? A lot of people moved out.”

Steve hums, moves closer. “Good point. There’s bound to be something on the edge of town.” He sighs as he sits next to Eddie. “The only problem is Robin doesn’t have a car, or even her license. And if I’m working here, and she’s trying to work in Indy, how’s she gonna get there?”

“Well,” Eddie begins, “who says you have to stay at Family Video? Why not stretch your wings out? Try something else? Indy’s a big city with lots of opportunity. How about this.” He shifts so he’s facing Steve. “If you could do anything in the world, work anywhere, what would you do? Where would you work?”

Steve fidgets with his pant leg as he thinks. “A bakery,” he decides softly.

Eddie stills for a moment. “I feel like I should’ve seen that coming. You’d be a great baker, Steve. Or if you want to just sell the baked goods, you’d be great at that, too. Hawkins is small enough we don’t have need for a bakery. Not when you can get everything you need at Melvald’s. But Indy’s big. I pass by two bakeries every time I head into the city.” He puts a hand on Steve’s knee. “Stay at Family Video for now. But when we move, you can apply to those places. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. He can feel his cheeks heating up, feel the excitement coursing through his body. “You really think I could?”

“Steve.” Eddie sighs. “I think you are so much better than you see. I think you can do anything.”

“I dunno about anything.” Steve ducks his head as he blushes. “But, uh. Thank you.”

Eddie smiles. “For?”

Steve looks up at him. His breath catches, for a second, at the look in Eddie’s eyes. He looks away with a shrug even as his cheeks heat up. “Believing in me, I guess.”

“Anything,” Eddie promises again.

Steve looks at him again. Really looks, even as his cheeks heat uncomfortably warm. “…Anything?”

Without looking away, Eddie grabs his hand. Rubs his thumb over Steve’s knuckles. Whispers it again.

Steve leans in and kisses him.

Eddie kisses back.

[saturnniidae]

I think Astrid Hofferson has a bad case of the 'my childhood was wasted, I grew up too fast for something ultimately proven pointless.' Syndrome and that she deserves to get to do silly things she missed out on and take up new hobbies, even if she's not particularly good at them–it's purely for the experience yknow, and learn to finally breathe no longer needing to be on constant high alert and get to be truly happy

[kazanskyy]

iceman + his concern for maverick post-hop 31

[abrahamvanhelsings]

listen i don't think edward little was actually a bad first lieutenant. when we see him in the first episode he's calm and confident. he does not say much but he's amiable enough. crozier likes him, and i don't think crozier would like anyone he doesn't think capable in some way. generally he's dependable and knows what he's doing. however unfortunately for edward he has these qualities because he has a major case of eldest daughter syndrome, which means he both wants to please his mum (crozier) and has an overdeveloped sense of responsibility for his younger siblings (crew), so when they get stuck in the ice and crozier starts going (more) alcoholic, he enables his mum bc he doesn't want to disappoint her even if he doesn't agree with her, and he has to pick up the tasks and care for his siblings she's not doing, but he can't let his siblings know about their mum's situation because they'll get worried and restless. and like a true eldest daughter he has to bear the brunt of mummy's anger for being a disappointment but he also doesn't want to seek refuge with the man she divorced (fitzjames) because that feels like a betrayal. also while this is going on there is a giant bear who hunts his siblings for sport so they're dying left and right and also a changeling master manipulator who's making his siblings mad at their mum and who wants to fuck said mum before eating her like some sort of praying mantis. anyway i think i would start being miserable and anxious too.

[ryllen]

PSA:

if u have a little inconvenience in front of u,

pump ur tiny fists, ✊️🥺

before facing it head on.

°.* just like lil' sebek did *.°

[youngpettyqueen]

I know the decision to have Julian's parents have him augmented was made on the fly but imo its pretty obvious from early on that Julian has Family Issues because he avoids talking about his family like the plague and I think they should've incorporated this into the Julian and Sisko dynamic right from early on because I think it would've made for some really compelling stories and moments and could've set up a REALLY interesting Julian and Jake dynamic which they kinda started to do but never fully went for

[moreaugriffins]

IDK who needs to hear this, but Egon and Ray aren't the only autistic og ghostbusters

Peter is too

Your telling me this man with two PhDs related to psychology, who always has the exact right thing to say to manipulate a situation to his favour (when it's a planned/known situation), but cocks up massively when it's an unknown situation, who has a massive reaction to getting slimed (more so than the others), who would rather joke all the time than take a situation seriously because wtf should he say

you're telling me this man is neurotypical?

nah

Winston's the only NT in this group (idk how he deals with these weirdos (affectionate))

[arsenicflame]

Bootblacking is my favourite kink to give Izzy, because of course this guy would get his rocks off doing precise, repetitive, manual labour. OF COURSE he gets off on what is essentially just another chore on his list.

[chiropteracupola]

Boldly onward, never changing course.

[william bush, requested by @sanguinarysanguinity and @quatregats]

[turtleblogatlast]

“Haven’t You Noticed (I’m a Star)” from Steven Universe works so ridiculously well for Leo

[serpentface]

how is sex work perceived and treated - spiritually, legally, morally - in broad areas relevant to the white calf core cast? imperial wardi, the hills etc

Sex work is EXTREMELY stigmatized in Imperial Wardin, yet generally regarded as an element of society and a necessary function, not one to be eliminated. You'll occasionally find fringe groups decrying the presence of brothels as polluting elements upon cities, but they are minority figures- sex work is legal, generally accepted, and very common.

There are some exceptions- in most of the city-states, only sex work out of registered brothels is considered fully legal (independent sex workers are breaking the law in most city-states, though how much these laws are enforced varies heavily). All legally operating brothels must be officially registered, and are heavily taxed.

Prostitution of children is illegal, and this is one of VERY few protections for sex workers that is strongly enforced. But it should be clear that the societal definition of a child here does not match the contemporary- a person is generally considered an adult woman upon menarche (which is later on average due to poorer nutrition, but is still going to include a lot of like, 14 year olds). Boys are considered adults at the age of 16.

Forced prostitution is also illegal on paper, but this is poorly enforced. Even when not Outright forced, many sex workers are working as indentured laborers, or under prohibitive conditions where they have very little freedom of movement or legal ability to leave during the duration of their contracts.

Sex workers are an incredibly vulnerable, stigmatized social minority that have very few protections and are often subject to abuse.

The stigma against sex work surrounds the sex workers themselves. This is culturally justified and partly rooted in aspects of broader body taboo- receiving penetration = metaphysical vulnerability = openness to spiritual pollution, and they are considered to be heavily polluted by their line of work (regardless of whether or not a given person actually is receiving penetration on a regular basis- male sex workers who primarily have women as clients receive much the same treatment, the stigma here is fundamentally a form of bigotry, not something with a consistent internal logic).

In addition to concerns around penetration, the act of '''selling''' the body itself is seen as a polluting devaluation of the sacred body and using it to extreme excess. Sexuality and libido is societally valued, but in a framework of moderation- sex workers are seen as wildly out of moderation and are often ascribed qualities of an excessive libido by virtue of their line of work.

Sex workers are prohibited from entering most temples and participating in many public rites, justified in their ‘polluted’ status, under the assumption that it will de-purify the place and sully most rites. This serves to keep them isolated from key facets of social life and culture, and can leave many spiritually ostracized (most sex workers from within this cultural sphere are also going to believe in notions that they are spiritually polluted, with limited outlets to cleanse themselves).

There is one folk tradition that has developed to assuage some of these fears and the sense of isolation- an epithet to the Face Ganmache that translates literally to 'Mother of Whores' (a rather strong name that reclaims degrading slang in the original language as well), which watches over sex workers and their labors. This is wholly a folk tradition and not part of core dogma, and priests are self-appointed, mostly elderly former sex workers. They provide rites of purification and blessings for those denied access to temples, sometimes train themselves as midwives to assist in births (or abortions), and will help ensure deceased workers get proper funeral rites.

Generally, the concept of something being spiritually polluted translates to full avoidance of the person/place/thing involved, but these concerns are rarely applied to the Hiring of sex workers (ie they are spiritually polluted and highly impure and shouldn't enter temples but you, the client, are not affected by contact). While some people will try to provide logical explanations for why hiring a sex worker is not polluting, this does not have any true underlying logic and is a product of a society that both reviles sex workers and desires their labor.

They are generally expected to visually identify themselves as sex workers at all times- the exact details vary by city-state, but wearing hair unbraided and an uncovered head in public is most common (particularly in the west of the region).

Male sex workers are denied certain rights otherwise available by default to men (self-legal representation, ability to own land that is not gifted, etc). Female sex workers do not have these rights to begin with, and have even more difficulty than other women in finding legal representation, given that they situationally rarely have fathers/husbands/male family members willing to support them.

Because of their inability to represent themselves in court and the difficulty in finding representation, they often have little to no recourse against abuse or violations of their contracts. There are some lawyers who specialize in representing sex workers (fewer still who do this entirely out of benevolence for a vulnerable social class), but they are few and far between.

The majority of sex work is marketed towards male clients, and the majority of sex workers are women. Male sex workers are mostly young men who serve male clients, and will usually keep themselves beardless and not overtly masculine (while not distinctly effeminate either) to remain desirable targets for the sexual outlet of most men. (There is no concept of sexuality in this culture- if you are a man, you are a penetrative partner in sex and the gender of the receiving partner is of little concern. Younger men beneath you in social stature (in practice, these are almost always sex workers) are considered appropriate targets of male desire, and as such you have some men who would be considered heterosexual by contemporary standards having sex with other men). Male workers who primarily serve female clients tend to vary more in age and have less social restrictions on their appearance or masculine presentation.

Eunuch sex workers usually serve male clients, and are regarded as appropriate targets of male attraction regardless of their age (largely as they are seen as entirely incapable of performing penetrative roles, and conceptualized as de-gendered). Akoshos (those designated male who perform women's gender roles) sex workers are seen as uniquely predisposed to serve both male and female clients, as their gendered space is broadly conceptualized as dual-gendered (being physically capable of performing 'male' penetrative roles while living under women's social roles)

Hiring of sex workers is not considered infidelity and is entirely permissible to do while married, though women are often heavily discouraged from doing so (largely out of concerns of pregnancy, partly out of patriarchal control over women's sexual behavior). A woman who pays for sex work receives more scrutiny than is applied to men. It is not outright inappropriate, but can be considered indicative of an excessive libido or overmasculinization. Women are imagined as having naturally lower libidos than men, so behaviors that challenge this notion tend to be be noted.

The only circumstances in which hiring sex workers as a man attracts scrutiny is when it is deemed excessive, symptomatic of an uncontrolled libido. Men who hire male sex workers closer to their age and/or bearded will also attract scrutiny- while not outright Condemned, it's suspiciously out of the acceptable range for male desire (though will most often similarly be interpreted as an excessive, uncontrolled libido, ie you'll just fuck anything with a hole). Receiving penetration from a sex worker as a man is wholly condemned, as is seen as UNIQUELY violating, not only a severe deviance from male social roles, but at the hands of a stigmatized, polluted figure that is at the absolute bottom of the social ladder. This usually happens in secret and often involves paying the worker off for their silence.

The one major exception to stigma against sex workers is in the lemna courtesan tradition. Lemna are mostly unmarried women and/or akoshos who are very skilled trained performers who work as entertainers for wealthy clients. Their services are not sexual in nature, rather they sing, dance, act, play music, and recite poetry, and are skilled conversationalists that provide company for clients. Lemna usually operate out of elite brothels, but as separate services to the sex workers, and are in theory never available for sex work. Lemna providing sex work sometimes (though not frequently) occurs in practice, but it is always be presented as something they have not been Paid to do- their payment was for entertainment, and they will present it as a (almost always purely fantastical) situation that they have grown attracted to their client and are engaging in a romantic tryst.

Lemna courtesanship is long-established and a valued part of this culture's art and theater traditions, and they do not face the same stigma as sex workers, rather being seen as an elite class of performers. They do not exactly have a High place in society either (as unmarried civilian women and/or akoshos, they are notably lacking in social power), but the regard towards them is overall positive. The exemption to this stigma partially lies within the framework of body taboo (they do not explicitly 'sell' their bodies or directly engage in sex work), but is largely rooted in the esteem of their tradition rather than any coherent logic.

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Sex work has a much less significant, less complicated, and less intensely stigmatized place in the highlands, mostly due to its reduced presence. Most people are living in relatively small agricultural villages, or transiently as herders, so there are fewer opportunities for sex workers to operate on regular and official levels. The only places you can reliably find sex workers within the highlands are in small quasi-towns that crop up around land trade routes, or occasionally as traveling traders (usually offering material goods in addition to sex work services).

There’s also no intra-highlands currency system, so sex workers will usually be paid in goods, which in turn influences the cultural lens on sex work. Goods have direct, immediate utilitarian value that currency does not, and paying goods for service is most pragmatically done as a means of material practicality- forming alliances, acquiring farmhands, receiving the defensive or offensive service of warriors, etc, not for temporary gratification.

The fact that this cultural sphere is fairly egalitarian in terms of gender (though it has strongly enforced, separate gender roles for married men and women) also contributes to the comparative lack of stigma- part of the Imperial Wardi stigma against sex work is interwoven with misogyny (with women sex workers being the most degraded extent of femininity, and male sex workers taking on inappropriate, degraded feminine roles in providing sexual services). Women have equal overall societal power to men in the Hill Tribes cultural sphere, and things associated with femininity are not Themselves degrading (men seen as feminine are not shamed for femininity itself, rather in their specific failure to perform male gender roles- the distinction can be subtle but is very significant to how gender roles are approached).

Casual sex between unmarried men and women is fully accepted, somewhat seen as a hallmark of youth. However, married couples are expected to remain exclusively faithful to one another. This also goes a ways to discourage hiring of sex workers, which would be accepted grounds for a divorce and a mark of shame on the person who strayed.

While not excessively stigmatized, the views on sex work here is nowhere near Enlightened And Supportive either, it’s still seen as a highly degrading, unfortunate line of work. Sex workers are usually going to be unmarried women of marriageable age who could not (or would not) acquire a husband for one reason or another. They are women who failed in expected roles of marriage and becoming the manager of a family’s home and property, and have not even taken an esteemed, productive role for spinsters (usually physical labor in herding, farming, raiding) in favor of one that is considered ‘selling’ one’s body to provide useless, base services to desperate men. It's something that will usually be looked at as sad and unfortunate at best, or an absurd dereliction of duty at worst.

Male sex workers are virtually unheard of (within the highlands at least, there's cultural stereotypes of Wardi men being effeminate and predisposed to sex with men, so of course THEY'VE got male sex workers all over the fucking place), and the concept of a man operating as a sex worker would just seem absurd to most.

But the levels of social shame surrounding sex work are actually higher for the client in this cultural context- it’s suggestive that you either cannot afford to get a wife/do not have the requisite masculine skillset to be a husband, or otherwise that you’re so utterly incapable of getting laid that you have to go to great effort and barter for sex, a petty expense of valuable goods. It's both a foolish waste and in many ways a failure of expected male gender roles. Most men who hire the services of sex workers will keep it on the down low, or (if living near the borders) commute to Wardi towns or tradeways for access. It’s seen as an act of desperation, foolish, emasculating, and will generally be mocked and shamed.

I actually have a framework of a folktale that kind of demonstrates the cultural lens pre-established (no names for the characters or clans involved, it's supposed to be of the far northern Bict-Braíghnnas tribe). I'll put it under the cut:

One of the folktales describes a young woman who was strikingly beautiful and exceedingly clever. She was of the Bict-Braíghnnas, the lone daughter of a very small, very poor clan, consisting only of her immediate family and a few cousins. Her father had died young, and her younger brothers and cousins were malnourished and inexperienced, and could do little to protect or grow their meager herd of horses (they certainly could not afford cattle). She had to take on the role of the provider for herself and remained unmarried long past marriageable age, living day by day doing whatever she could to scrape by and keep her family afloat.

She became aware that the patriarch of her ruling clan had an eye for her, and he began approaching her in hopes of soliciting sex. At first, she always brushed him off. She found him repulsive, as he was foolish and greedy and rather ugly. But she started to see an opportunity in all this. It was a humiliating opportunity, but one she was willing to take.

The next time he approached, she pretended to consider his advances, but only if he should provide payment in turn- if she was as beautiful as he kept saying, and he was as wealthy as he kept bragging, wouldn't it be worth the price? He first offered her a sack of barley, but she laughed him off. He then offered her fine clothes, but she feigned insult, was she not already beautiful even in poor, worn rags? He then offered her a breeding pair of pheasants, and she pushed aside her shawl to expose her breasts, and sweetly asked if he Really could not do better, wealthy in cattle as he was. The man was now, quite clearly, hard in his trousers.

He finally relented to an obscene payment- he would go under his wife (the owner of his cattle)'s nose and give her an adult cow, in payment for having sex with him just once. This is a high price to pay, but she was gorgeous and he was rich in cattle and could afford to lose one (or two. or five. Maybe more.). She accepted his offer and had sex with him, and came away with her very first cow.

(Some tellings of this story go on a tangent here where she sneaks the cow right back into the man's fields under cover of darkness, to breed it with one of his bulls and begin forming her own herd)

Over the next several months, he started regularly approaching her for sex in exchange for cattle, until he had to start coming up with explanations to his wife as to where the missing cattle had gone- he first claimed they were given as gifts, then that some were stolen, inventing wild stories of great raids and declaring open conflict with the greatest rival to his clan, all as means of masking his dalliances. This skirmishing came at great cost to his own clan, but he was too foolish and weak-willed to stop.

The woman was meanwhile using her newfound and growing wealth in cattle to make connections and political moves, slowly establishing herself as a powerful figure and having many in her debt. Her brothers and cousins, finally well fed, grew tall and healthy and began to take on roles as herders, protectors, and raiders, with the assistance of more young men gained in alliance. All the while, she dutifully continued her paid trysts with the patriarch whenever he summoned her.

Eventually, the man had given her so many cattle (which had been bred in the meantime, and more had been acquired in trade and raids) that she had three times as many as he did. One day, she did not appear as expected. She had amassed great wealth for herself and her clan, and had been courting the unwed son of the patriarch’s rival clan. The son paid a hefty bride price for her, and they were wed on that day.

Now the wealthiest in cattle and the most powerful clan in the valley, the woman and her new husband ousted the weakened and disgraced former patriarch, becoming the new ruling clan of the Bict-Braíghnnas. The couple were wise and wealthy rulers, and their clan remains in power and rich in cattle to this day.

---

The cultural outlook on sex work (among other things) is fairly well encapsulated here- the sex work itself is degrading, but this fits into common motifs of this cultural sphere’s folktales where the hero figure overcomes difficult and often degrading situations with wit and social skill, and ultimately rises above it. Note that as a (non-comedic) hero of this tale, she uses her sex work very intentionally and pragmatically for material gain and alongside many other measures to increase her standing. Also note that, when unmarried, she's specified as taking up practical labor roles, and ultimately acquires a husband and ends the story in the expected position as a wife.

The actions of the man who hired her are distinctly shameful. He is performing his role as a husband TERRIBLY- being unfaithful, completely mismanaging his wife’s herds and ultimately driving his clan out of power all in pursuit of petty lust. He is in part an exaggerated, cartoonish embodiment of the cultural perception of the clients of sex workers- desperate, foolishly lustful, and an overall failure as a man. Most hearing this story would find his role highly comedic, a powerful but stupid foe for the clever and pragmatic hero to overcome.

(Very minor side note: the detail of him being enthralled by her breasts is also meant to be comedic- breasts are not sexualized in this culture (women's hips/thighs/buttocks are what is typically seen as sexually attractive), and many women will be out topless on hot days without note being made of it (toplessness is culturally acceptable, exposing genitalia/buttocks is not). The notion of a man being out of his mind horny over the sight of a bare tit would register to listeners as excessively lustful in a humorous capacity)

While the focus of the story is ultimately more on the contrast of thrifty and foolish behaviors, it also functions as a discouragement of hiring sex workers, casting the loss of assets in trade for sex as a similarly foolish venture, degrading to the worker and humiliating to the client.

[57sfinest]

calling harry a “can opener” was SUCH a good play for so many reasons i think about it every day.

in the context of his work, it makes him a tool. as many people have pointed out, including martin luiga, part of the hdb tragedy is that he simply cannot leave the force, and his superiors know that and are using it to their advantage. no matter what happens, even if harry hated every nanosecond of every bit of the work and wanted to leave, he can’t and won’t leave. they can leverage anything they want against him and then reel him back in with a facade of kindness when they “allow” him to keep his job, as long as he does what they want him to. the 41st knows he has this inexplicable talent with people and they use him for it. he’s a cop: that talent can be used in so many awful ways, to push so many different agendas. and they won’t even be his own. a can opener has no particular desire to open a can, aside from maybe the satisfaction of fulfilling a purpose. a can opener has no agency, it’s just a tool for someone else to use to get what they want. and he’s learned to be okay with being used as long as it means he gets to stay. his complacency with this system makes him guilty even if he’s also being harmed by it.

but in the context of his personal life you kind of... flip it. the people around him are going to be opened up whether they want to be or not, and it’s terrible for his relationships. it’s shown that the questions, the prying- the can-opening- it’s become inextricable from who he is as a person. it’s like he doesn’t know how else to communicate, except it’s hardly communication when you’re just ripping people open. he’s invasive as all hell, although whether he means to be is debatable. he’s the kind of person that wants to take things apart to see what makes them tick. he dissects people, but really that’s too delicate of a word for what he does; if he doesn’t get what he wants right up front, he’ll abandon all subtlety and go for brute force. if he can’t get your screws loose he’ll just smash you on the ground and pick through your pieces until he’s satisfied, and if what he did to you isn’t fixable? oh well, there are other cans to open. 

and he’ll use it for personal gain: we already know he is (was?) manipulative. once he knows how you operate, he knows how to make you keep him. he can yell or he can cry; he can threaten you or he can threaten himself; he can be completely suffocating or he can withdraw completely; he can be an incorrigible liar or brutally honest; he can present himself as a threat or a joke or a talent. he’s a chimera- that’s why he’s got this inexplicable magnetism, even when people know they shouldn’t like or trust him. fidelity of character means nothing to him. he’ll be whatever he needs to be as long as it gets him what he wants. the can-opening is just his way in.