#no one says i need to keep going until i hit 12 except for me. so if i don't like that i can change it

[le-velo-pour-dru]

It's so comforting to realize that since the self-imposed rules I put upon myself are completely made up, I can change them to make myself more comfortable. I forget about that all the time X'3

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 12] Unexpected

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

It’s very rare for you to go out nowadays, but occasionally you get a call and you can’t say no. This time around, you were rambling to make up an excuse but then you realized it was your friend’s birthday; and while you have the right to decline because you’re simply too overwhelmed with life, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no. 

It feels odd to sit at a table full of women that you no longer talk to– Except your best friend, of course, but she’s occupied tonight. Everyone is trying to get her attention, ask her about her adorable new baby who rests at home. 

You feel out of place. You notice the stares that you’re getting, simply because of your bump. Toji is the father, clearly. They doubt you got pregnant by a one night stand or an affair, the only plausible answer would be your husband, or rather, ex-husband. 

You’re still grateful that nobody is really interrogating you about your situation. You’re either ignored or asked simple questions. The only question that was asked about your situation is about the sex of your baby, which you happily answered.

You’re happy to be ignored, though you feel that maybe you should’ve stayed home. It’s fine, at least the food is good. 

“I have to use the bathroom, I’ll be–” You begin to tell your best friend, Eri, but she cuts you off.

“I’ll go with you.” She says, and you two walk to the bathroom in silence. She doesn’t go into a stall, instead walking to the sink to powder her face. She hears you using the bathroom, and still raises her voice to speak, “How are you doing? You’ve been distant.”

“I’ve been… Better.” You tell her when you exit the stall. It’s no surprise to her. She’s been getting little information about your life, but she’s heard about the divorce and the pregnancy which isn’t exactly an ideal situation. “How about you? How’s the baby?”

“He’s a sleepy baby. He’s barely changed anything for me.” She says, and you smile. You can only hope that you’ll have the same fate. She doesn’t want to talk about herself though, that’s all that everyone talks about right now. She wants to hear about you. “I’m surprised you showed up.”

“It’s your birthday, I couldn’t miss it.” You answer. You’re drying your hands, ready to go back out but Eri is taking her time with her makeup. She’s not planning to go back out until she’s done talking with you. “It is kind of awkward though.”

“Yeah…” She agrees. She knows your friendship with them completely changed when your relationship with Toji hit a certain point– They just couldn’t stand him after Toji betrayed you; granted, it was shortly after the beginning of your relationship, it wasn’t a big deal to you. They just strayed away when you continued dating him. 

“All that and for what? We still got divorced.” You can’t help but chuckle, feeling tears build up. Your stupid hormones are getting the best of you. “He won’t fucking leave me alone either, he wants to get back together.”

“Can you make it clear that you’re not getting back together– Unless you do…” She says, and you take a deep breath. You feel like you’ve done everything you possibly can, and lately you’ve been getting soft for him again. You left Toji for good. 

“I just… Want him to stop. Get it through his head that we’re just co-parenting. I still care for Toji a lot but getting back with him will just make me miserable.” You answer, keeping any explanation to yourself. All that people need to know is that Toji wasn’t the best to you, any other explanation is unwarranted. “Ignore me. I’ll try to have a serious conversation with him soon.”

“You know you could always just give him a taste of his own medicine.” She suggests, and you raise your brows. What does she mean? She applies some lipstick, smacking her lips together before answering your question, “Technically it isn’t a taste of his own medicine since you aren’t together. It isn’t considered cheating.”

“Oh– I couldn’t do that to Toji.” You awkwardly laugh, and then you think about it for a moment. Do what to Toji? You left, you’re not together anymore. Toji shouldn’t care about your love life unless it concerns his unborn child. “Not like anyone would be too interested in me anyway.”

“Really? There was just someone staring you down. Why do you think I came with you?” She tells you, and you chuckle, knowing that she’s lying to make you feel better. She clicks her tongue, rolling her eyes, “I wasn’t joking.”

“Why would–” You begin, but before you can even ask the question, she leaves the bathroom. You sigh before following behind her. This time you’re looking around, wanting to see if any eyes fall on you as you exit the bathroom– And they do, they’re just not from the person that you want. 

She doesn’t remember Shiu, that’s why she thinks he was checking you out. 

���Hi.” Shiu approaches you outside of the restaurant while you wait for your ride home. He’s been clearly watching you, waiting for your dinner to be over so he can approach you afterward. Unluckily for him, you ignore him, and he sighs before offering, “How about I take you home?”

“Are you going to report it to Toji?” You sound annoyed, and Shiu can’t help but chuckle. He knows he deserves it. You bite down your lip before telling him, “Thank you for the gift for my daughter. It’s cute.”

“Anything for my niece.” He responds. He clears his throat before telling you again, “Let me take you home. I’m not telling Toji anything.”

“Why are you suddenly so nice?” You ask him since he has no reason to help you. Unless he’s lying to you, and he’ll run to tell Toji.

“We’re friends, are we not?” He replies, and you furrow your brows together. You’re not. He’s Toji’s friend and he’s just keeping an eye on you since Toji wants you back. Either way, you accept,

“Take me home then.”

The car ride back to your place is silent. Shiu is trying to make some conversation, and your answers are dry. It’s not that you don’t want to talk but you keep thinking about Eri’s words. To give Toji a taste of his own medicine and of the man that was checking you out. 

“Are you seeing anyone?” You speak up, which takes the man back. He definitely wasn’t expecting that from you, but it earns a laugh from him. If he didn’t know you better, he’d say you want to make a move on him.

“I have some friends… Nothing serious though. So no.” Shiu answers, which doesn’t shock you. You were thinking of something similar. Shiu is an attractive man in his late thirties, of course he isn’t alone. “Why do you ask?”

“Just wanted to know.” You respond, and he’s not convinced. He wonders if he should let it go and change the topic, or pressure you to give you an answer.

“Hmm… Right.” He’s clearly sarcastic, and he has a smirk on his face. You roll your eyes before a sigh leaves your lips. 

“I’m serious.” You claim. He certainly isn’t going to drop the subject now. He’s curious why you have a sudden curiosity about his love life.

“Then why are you suddenly interested in my love life?” He questions, and you chew on the inside of your cheek. You have no idea how you’re going to respond.

“My friend just… Said something and yeah.” You choose to tell him a partial truth, not everything, hoping that he’ll drop the subject. He’s Toji’s friend, of course he’s just like Toji. Stubborn.

“Something… Like?” He makes you take a deep breath. You’re getting embarrassed, but it’s too late to try to change the subject now.

“I told her that I want Toji to stop. I’m getting soft for him again and I know that it’ll end badly.” You confess, and Shiu takes a moment to think about it. What you said doesn’t answer anything, leaving him to wonder what your friend said.

“Oh, this something will end up screwing me over.” Is the only conclusion he can draw, and you can’t help but laugh before humming in agreement. Shiu lightly bites down his lip before saying, “I do owe you one.”

“This isn’t something you can help me with, I assure you.” You tell him, and he furrows his brows. He’s confused, wondering what it is. What’s something that he can’t possibly help you with that will upset Toji?

“What– Oh! Oh��.” He comes to the realization of what it is, at least a vague idea of it. The mere thought makes his cheeks pink, completely flustered at the thought of being intimate with you. He briefly looks at you, and he can tell that you share those same feelings. 

He’s always viewed you as Toji’s wife. Sure, Toji’s very attractive wife, but still, Toji’s wife. Now you’re not just that, but the mother of Toji’s child. Before either of you can say anything else, he gets to your apartment complex. 

“Thank you for actually taking me home this time, Shiu.” You try to laugh it off since the car ride surely turned awkward. Shiu’s eyes focus on your rosy lips as you speak, before looking up at your eyes. He licks his lips as impure thoughts begin to fill up his mind– He’s thought similar stuff before but never while you were right next to him.

“Yeah, it was no problem.” He answers, and you begin to get out of the car. His voice stops you, and you feel a chill run down your spine when he says, “I can help you.”

“Huh?” You’re not sure if you’re listening right. Did Shiu really just say that?

“I can help you make sure that Toji stops.” Shiu confirms, and your eyes widen. Toji’s best friend just told you that he’d help you… Maybe Shiu isn’t getting what your friend said.

“You do know that what my friend was suggesting was me sleeping with someone else, right?” You want to make sure he isn’t thinking of something else, and it shocks you when he nods in response. You’re slowly blinking as you try to process the information. You’re staring at him, and he’s avoiding your gaze. 

You clear your throat before saying, “I appreciate the offer, Shiu, but…” 

But what? This is a great opportunity, also the fact that you find Shiu handsome is a bonus but you can’t do it to Toji. You still care for Toji and you can’t do this to him. Shiu is his best friend, you don’t want to harm their friendship.

“But we can’t do that to Toji.” Is what you tell him, and Shiu slightly nods. Because even when you aren’t together, you put Toji’s feelings above your own. You’re not planning to get back together, but you don’t plan on hurting him.

“Sorry–” He begins but his words come to a stop when you kiss his cheek. If his face was warm before, he’s certainly burning up now. 

“Thank you for the offer though, I’m flattered.”

[hanbinics]

✧.* BINNIE'S BOO FEST | DAY 12.

HALLOWEEN '24 [based off these prompts]

!fratboy chris x !crybaby reader

you absolutely adore the fair. everything from the bright lights and rides, the snacks—it all has you buzzing with excitement much to chris’s mild annoyance. except it’s not so much your happiness that annoys him, it’s just this place. he thinks it’s fuckin’ stupid and a quick way to waste your cash, but he still lets you tug him around the fair grounds, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie as you pull on his arm until you find yourselves standing a few feet away from some sort of carnival game going on.

immediately, your eyes light up, and you tilt your head up towards chris. “can we play that? please?” you plead, gaze taking on that puppy dog look you constantly swear you don’t use on him in times like this.

the brunette takes one glance at the booth and the older man running it before snorting. “shit’s not meant for you to win, y’know that right?” he asks, looking down at you to find your brows creasing in the middle of your forehead. he exhales, already sensing the tantrum you’re about to throw. “if i play this shit, y’gotta promise me you won’t throw a fit if y’lose,” he insists, a stern look to his blue eyes. he doesn’t move from his spot until you’re throwing your head back with a whine, tugging on his arm.

“okay, i promise!” you exclaim, exasperated, but you’re quick to recover once chris actually starts to move, allowing you to pull him over to the booth.

the game is simple, really, and maybe a little childish, but you don’t care. as soon as you spot the fuzzy pink bunny hanging amongst the other prizes on the shelves, you’re determined to walk away with the plushie in your arms. so you’re careful in the way you line yourself up, eyes sharp and focused on the balloons you have to pop with the three darts the employee had given you. somewhere just behind you, chris watches with his arms crossed over his chest, amusement dancing in his gaze, but you don’t let it distract you—and it pays off.

as soon as your last dart pops one of the purple balloons lining the wall, you’re pausing for a split-second, and then ultimately breaking out into a grin as you turn around to face chris. he’s looking at the spot where the purple balloon had just been with his head drawn back slightly, eyebrows raised in complete surprise before he finally looks down at you with the corners of his mouth stretching across his face.

“look at that, kid. got a fuckin’ arm on you, i guess,” he jokes, but there’s a hint of something prideful lingering just beneath his tone, and you’re beaming as you lean up on the tips of your toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek—a blatant display of affection that he doesn’t often partake in.

when you turn to face the man working the booth again, your smile doesn’t fade. “i um—i want that one,” you tell him a bit shyly, pointing with one finger to the pink bunny you’d spotted earlier. you don’t realize the way he’s looking at you until you hear him chuckle.

“’fraid not, sweetheart. you hit the wrong balloon—supposed to hit a blue one,” he informs you, barely blinking an eye at the way he’s just crushed your spirit entirely.

your face begins to fall, the light in your eyes fading and your shoulders beginning to slump as you try to process what he’s saying. you’re confused, but you’ve never been good at confrontation, so instead of arguing with him, you find yourself pressing your lips together and blinking rapidly to keep away any tears beginning to collect at the corners of your sad eyes.

“oh,” you breathe out, foot dragging across the half-frozen ground as you begin to turn away, but you stop when you’re faced with chris, his faced screwed up in irritation and confusion as he sets his sights on the man that’s just turned you down so dismissively.

“fuck do you mean blue?” he all but scoffs, his hands now free from his pockets as he takes a step around you. “you said she needed to hit a fuckin’ purple at the beginning,” he insists, but the stranger barely looks up at chris as he counts the money the brunette had handed over for you to even participate to begin with.

he shakes his head. “always been blue—don’t know how y’all got it mixed up, but she didn’t win. sorry,” he offers, not sounding sincere in the slightest.

you watch as chris looks at him in disbelief, the realization that he’s being fucking serious sinking in slowly. he breathes out a scoff, running his tongue along his teeth as he seems to debate with himself about what to do next. you see the gentle flex of his fingers at his sides, your heart beginning to race in your chest as you watch him step forward so that he’s pressed right up against booth, leaning in close to the employee whose attention he’s now gained as he grips the edge of the counter so tight his knuckles turn white.

“nah—see, i don’t think you’re understandin’ me: she did win accordin’ to your stupid fuckin’ rules. so uh—why don’t ya just let her pick out her little prize, and i won’t have to rock your shit for makin’ the kid upset,” he suggests, a smile spreading across his mouth as he speaks that lacks any sort of warmth or kindness.

when you finally leave together, you do so with a fuzzy pink plushie clutched tight to your chest and a big smile on your face.

©hanbinics

: ̗̀➛ tag list: @blahbel668, @zayluvss, @whicked-hazlatwhore, @leviosatothestars.

: ̗̀➛ divider by @/strangergraphics

[vivispec]

Hello there! I'm not even sure how to start. So I felt very disappointed by DA:TV, because of various reasons. Not trying to dampen the mood, I am super happy for you if you actually enjoyed the game! If you do not mind, could you list the things you liked/loved about the game? Help me see the "bright side"? Just gush a litte about it, I could use some positive input around my favourite gaming series of all time. :') thank you <3

Absolutely! For me, I think I always figured I was going to like this game, even if it wasn't my fave of all time? Trick Weekes always writes characters/quests that I like, and for me, story/characters come before anything else. I liked Andromeda, flawed as it was. Even if the gameplay was mediocre, I was certain I'd find something I'd like.

But the gameplay wasn't mediocre. It was actually really, really fun. I played Spellblade, and honestly, the gameplay might be a highpoint for me. I don't really like action gameplay, I tolerate it. I loved this, though.

The biggest thing that really sold me is the fact that the big choices in this game are difficult in a way Bioware has been trying to capture since Origins, but I don't think they've ever nailed until now (except maybe in Mass Effect). Even in Origins, when they had big choices like what to do with Connor, or how to deal with the werewolves, there was always a cop out choice. There isn't one in this game, so far as I can see. At the end of EVERY companion quest there was a choice I couldn't choose, something that made me wonder just what would've happened if I'd picked something different, and don't get me started on the endgame. The endgame was brutal :')

I love the characters, too! I do think some of the writing can get a bit campy or be a bit on the nose, I think some subtlety is lacking for certain characters especially in the beginning, but once shit hits the fan just about every companion has their gutwrenching moment. I felt for every single character in this game, during their act 2 personal quest moments. In all the other games there was at least one character I just couldn't care about, but even the ones that I thought wouldn't tickle my fancy snuck up on me. By the end, I loved all of them so much. I only wanted more.

I like Rook, too. I think I can see how their characterization might be disappointing, though. I think the key for me and my friend @sweetmage was finding the right Rook to play. We both had lots of concepts and while I plugged in the right one first, I know they struggled until they found the right one. Rook is kinda like Hawke in the way that they have a bit of personality already and a defined character path, which can get in the way of true RP. Once I stopped fighting it and let Rook be Rook, I liked the game a lot more, and I liked my character a lot more.

Then there's lore. Oh, lore. I have listened to or read every codex. I have a treasure trove of theories I keep locked in my head. All I need is a corkboard and some red string. Getting to see so many of those theories come to fruition? Things they've been teasing since Origins, that I picked up on when I was 12? Absolutely magical! Some of it I think they bungled--there's one reveal I've been waiting for for 15 years that I found in a note, not codex, on a bridge in Minrathous, no fanfare or anything--but the majority of it punched me right in the face with so much force I had to pause the game and do a little pacing. I won't get into specifics for spoiler reasons, but seeing all those little dots connect? seeing when I was right, and when I was wrong? SO euphoric for me!

A lot of the things I didn't like, too, like making the Crows less shitty--so easy to headcanon around, in ways that don't contradict canon! It's one of my favorite things to do, it feels like a puzzle to me, making everything that is for certain and everything I want fit together. That one, for instance, Zevran totally gutted all the shitty Crows, and left only the good ones :)

I will say, it's clear they were trying to wrap things up. I got the sense while playing it felt that they didn't want to leave any loose threads in case this was their last DA game, so that felt a bit rushed. But I loved it. To me it was a love letter, saying goodbye. Wrapping everything up in a nice little bow. I've always struggled to choose a favorite game in the DA series, they all do something I love so differently that I can't pinpoint one singular favorite, and I think this one is right up there for me, tied for 1st place with the other three games. Like DA2 and DAI I think it could've cooked just a little bit longer, there's a lot of potential for it to be a 9/10 game imho if they'd smoothed a couple of things out, but there's a lot in there for me to love.

Thank you so much for the question, I hope the wall of text will help you see a bit of the light haha. I don't mind that people didn't like it--that's just how it goes sometimes, and I think there are a lot of valid criticisms to be had. For me I was just super bummed that it was the only thing I was seeing online. I'm following lots of positivity now, so the occasional disenchantment is not a problem. Idk if it'll work for you, but @sweetmage was similarly disappointed until they streamed it with a friend, and then just having someone there to converse with it on really helped them to enjoy it. I hope you can find something to love in it, too!

[concerningwolves]

god I'm reading Devon Price's latest substack essay on burnout, and it's.. it's confirming and crystallising something that I've suspected for a long time, actually.

See, all throughout school, I would have days – roughly every month or so, sometimes two months – where I became Unwell. The symptoms never really fit anything, but I'd be exhausted, irritable, headachey, sometimes feeling kind of feverish. Most importantly, i'd just Know that I couldn't cope with school that day. I can remember these starting in middle school and getting more frequent and pressing into high school. When I did take the day off, I'd watch TV or films and sleep a lot, and then by the evening – if it wasn't a weekend night – I'd be in this weird place of feeling rested but also crushingly anxious with the knowledge that i'd just be back at school tomorrow. Holidays weren't truly restful either, except for maybe the middle two weeks of the six-week summer break. The two week Christmas and Easter breaks? I'd start to feel a bit better towards the end of the first week, then the dread would build up again throughout the second week. By my GCSEs, I couldn't keep up my academic drive, so I picked the subjects I most wanted to do well in (English, German, Biology, and History + maths because I needed to pass it so I could be done with it), focused my revision on those, and coasted by with perfunctory revision on the other seven subjects. It's honestly shocking to me that I got a full 12 GCSEs. People tell me that my results were good, and I know that logically they're right, but it took me a long time to be proud of them because I always knew that I hadn't really tried. It took me even longer to accept that if I had given every subject my all, it probably would have broken me.

As it was, I made it into my first term of college before I hit breaking point. Three A Levels (English lang & lit, history, psychology), dreams of a career in psychology or psychiatry, writing in all my spare time. I'd been very mentally unwell all through high school, but I'd always imagined that college would be my escape. First I was going to study philosophy, history, and English literature – but then that college had to drop the philosophy course. My next chosen college was an incredibly competitive college that held students to very high standards. I had the grades to get in, and I was dithering between a selection from English literature, history, classical studies, sociology, philosophy, or psychology. But I never made it in, because I missed the induction day. Students who missed the induction day automatically forfeited their placement. In hindsight, that was the first warning, but instead I felt wretched for a few days, then decided, fuck it, I was going to my final last choice college instead.

And in less than six months, I had an absolute breakdown. Anyone who was following me circa 2018 may remember the fallout. Skill regression. Low mood. Weeks spent just watching Supernatural or sleeping. Panic attacks. I never truly got my feet back under me. I dropped down to one a level and abandoned all thoughts of university, and scraped by college until I could just get out of there.

And reading this article, looking back at the trajectory of my life since 2018, it's... Eye-opening, to say the least. I don't know if I'm recovered or still recovering, or adjusting to my new baseline, nearly seven years later. Sometimes I wonder if an autism diagnosis earlier might have helped – might have given me the language and the tools to understand what was happening to me on all of those Unwell Days. So I grieve for that potential. I don't hate my life now, it's just.... I have to wonder, you know? What might have been. Could I have caught the burnout sooner? Headed it off? I don't know. I can't know. all I've got is where I'm at now, which is certainly something to be proud of, because I made it, even if I'm not anywhere near what's "normal" or "expected" of a 23 year old. and I have my whole life ahead of me yet. 23 years is nothing, in the grand scheme of things. Remembering that is always a balm.

But still I wonder. I grieve. It's hard not to.

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires - Part 12

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 763

Masterlist

I think shit might just hit the fan soon.

Billy Corgan is a poet.

And I'll pull your crooked teeth

You'll be perfect just like me

You'll be a lover in my bed

And a gun to my head

We must never be apart

We must never be apart

I've never heard a truer song. Especially those last two lines. We must never be apart, (Y/n), I see that very clearly.

You are rearranging the books on a bookshelf you wouldn't let me help you move. You're singing along to Ava Adore softly, nearly whispering. You're wearing the same top you wore the first time I saw you, and shorts that are almost slutty. You know what you're doing to me and you wiggle your little butt and you sing: “we must never be apart.”

I take a bite of the pizza I brought. It's cold now. You've only had one slice, because you're too busy to eat, but that's okay. I'll make sure you eat later.

The next song on the CD is Perfect. You don't sing along to this one, because it's not a love song. You turn to me and put your hands on your hips and say: “I'm exhausted.”

There is a cobweb in your hair. You need a shower.

“Come sit down and eat something.”

You drop down on the bed and cross your legs. Then, you grab a slice of pizza and take a large bite. You don't care that it's cold, and you don't care that it's way too spicy. You laughed when I asked if you had any milk (even though I know you do, on the top shelf of your mini fridge. It's pure cruelty that you refused to give me any).

“Thanks for this,” you say.

“No problem. You done for the day?”

It's ten pm and if you keep making noise, your neighbors might complain. You don't think about that, though. You look around and shrug, like maybe you'll go lug some more stuff around in a minute. You've already rearranged your entire apartment, which comes down to switching what side of the room your bed is on, but it also means you had to move all your bookcases around.

“Let me rephrase that,” I say. “You're done for the day.”

You giggle.

“Yessir.”

I like that too much, so I don't react to it.

You eat three more slices of pizza before you decide you've had enough. I want to pull you to me and kiss your greasy mouth, but you get up and go to your CD player and turn the music off, then replace the CD with another one.

Most people don't listen to CDs anymore, (Y/n). But you like to own things. It's why you don't have a Kindle and you don't go to the library, and it's why you listen to CDs instead of making a Spotify playlist like everyone else would. It's also, I think, why you only let me kiss you on the cheek when I came in. You were on the phone with your mom, talking loudly in Dutch, and you knew not getting to kiss you would just make me want you more.

“When I was a kid,” you tell me, “my mom and I would have these girls’ nights. We'd play Guitar Hero for hours, sometimes until the sun came up.”

“So that's where your music taste went wrong.”

“So,” you say.

You stick out your tongue at me. I don't recognize the music you're playing now, but it's a little sad and a little daring and a lot fuck me.

When you sit down again you're way closer to me than before.

“So,” I answer.

I lean back against your headboard and pretend this is normal. Because it is, or at least it will be.

“What's this band called?” I ask.

“Los Campesinos. They're pretty neat.”

And then we're finally kissing. Except kissing is not the right word: we are necking. I am sticking my tongue down your throat. And I can tell you haven't dated before, because you're not immediately great at kissing, but you catch on pretty quickly. You are eager to learn, to please me.

If I was a less patient man, I would press you into your mattress and have my way with you right now. But of course, I can't do that. Because I respect your boundaries. Because I don't want to push you. Because you've never had a boyfriend before.

I nudge you away, just slightly, and smile.

“So,” I say.

“So,” you answer. “You wanna watch a movie, or something?”

[distractedducky]

So I was thinking about it… why sterek

I’ve shipped a lot in my time. From the classics like spirk and destiel, to the straight vampire diaries nonsense, from murder husbands to buddy to name a very small few. They all hold weird little places in my heart and mind but they fade and as I flow in and out of fandoms I move on to the next hyperfixation. But sterek just keeps sticking around.

It’s an old ship for me. If you go on my ao3 all the way back to 2013 you’ll see my first ever book mark was a sterek fic. That fic is still a comfort fic for me today and is something I read when my anxiety is uncontrollable.

It was something I read late in 2022 when the reality of the pandemic and the last few years hit me hard and got me back into Teen Wolf so hard it actually pushed me out of the supernatural hole the start of the pandemic put me in.

I’ve always been a shipper and I have my ride or dies, my OTPs and Ot3s, and so on and so forth, but fandom has always been weird for me. I started young and witnessed the birth in Tumblr and ao3, as a tween my taste can only be described as pure trash* Affectionate * but as I got older, like most things in life, my taste changed. And though I still love me some hot garbage, I engage with it differently than that little 12-year-old who thought werewolves and vampires were cool no further explanation necessary.

Now I’m an academic, a librarian, who actually studied critical lit analysis, book studies, and religion. Who spent years learning how to dissect prose and poetry to look beyond text in an professional setting. And though I don’t regret it and it has led to some fun changes in the way I engage with fiction it also kinda ruined the fun engagement I had with things back in the day when baby me bookmarked that first fic.

I need more from my characters now, more from my fandoms and it has led me away from and into the arms of content that I never saw coming. (Looking at you Danny phantom phandom) I needed depth or the potential for depth that some shows just didn’t lend themselves to cleanly enough to satisfy me and yet… sterek persisted.

One of my problems is I didn’t really engage with the fandom when the show was airing and only watched a few season sporadically until recently, so I wasn’t there when things were forming organically. It has left me out of step with the primary directions fan content creators have taken with the ship and the directions they took, though fun and interesting, aren’t really my usual thing.

I hate the infantilization of stiles and other teen wolf characters like Isaac. I generally hate infantilization of adults, hyper feminization of certain types of characters and so on and so forth and it has to do with my own gender stuff, but I usually avoid it in fanfiction. I am also not a huge fan of modern werewolf romance erotica. I have a lot of opinions on real supernatural mythology and legends and I don’t like the anthropomorphism that shows up a lot in werewolf stories. Not that I haven’t read some amazing takes on werewolf lore, especially in the Teen Wolf fandom but I’m speaking generally. I’m also not a fan of pack mom stiles (again my own gender stuff) and though I think Scott’s inconsistent character and writing throughout the show lens him to be whatever your fic needs to be (best friend, hype man, wingman, idiot, genius, villain, so on and so forth) I don’t like a lot of the 'Scott sucks just because' fics. I don’t like the hate in the fandom around that. I also don’t like the hypermasculine depictions of Derek in a lot of fics and on and on. I have read a lot of TW and sterek and by all accounts, it should be a fandom I wouldn't personally engage with this much. Yet for all that, I have found there is an exception to every trope I hate, every hard line i draw for myself, because the fic was just so good. For every dozen or so fics that seem to tell me that this isn’t the fandom for me, there is that one amazing thing that says “No! This is exactly where you wanna be”.

Like I said, I need more from my fandoms now a days and most of what that boils down to is plausible deniability. I need enough gaps in the narrative to fill them in myself, but with enough connective pieces that everything can make sense when put together. The fatal flaw of telling without showing, which allows people to extrapolate out what they want from certain things -all the subtext with none of the text - is exactly where my degree comes in handy.

And sterek well… I think what it is for me as a shipper is the inconsistencies. That is kind of why I still ship it so far and for so long. It's the fact of why was Stiles in Derek's dream at the end of 3b? We can talk about all the things with him being his anchor and the grasping at straws that we as shippers all love to do but the narrative fact is they did not spend that much time on screen together or even saying they were doing things off-screen together. That leads us to a lot of whys. Why were they together at the beginning of season two talking about the alpha pack? Why were they in certain situations in season four that ld them to work so well? What happens in all of this dead time? What happens in season six? We see stiles in episode one be like "Oh my God Derek is a mass murderer wanted by the FBI" and at the end of the season, they've apparently driven and or flown back to California together, apparently spent some time together. They're not on the run from the FBI so that got cleared somehow, stiles isn't limping so his foot healed. There's so much dead time like that throughout the show so when scenes happen like the hand on Derek's shoulder after the death of Boyd you're left thinking that's kind of off, we haven't seen any interactions with them that would show that they have that kind of deep solemn relationship where comforting him would make sense.

The show notoriously has a terrible timeline, but all that does is fuel the fact that we don't know how much time any of these characters are really spending off-screen together. We can only assume that it happened in this weird dead time. This is why somehow Derek's view of Stiles in his head is like a calm stable dependable figure who can help him talk through an issue. This is why they always gravitate towards each other in fights. This is why they work so well together in a crisis. Like we have to assume that happened before which is stupid and I know it's so much reaching, but in my little brain, it's the only way that makes all of this random shit fit together- so I gotta ship it. Obviously, the real-world explanation is inconsistent writing plus putting space between them once the writer stopped wanting people to ship it, but because you get all of these disjointed scenes where they're too intense for what we've been previously seeing there is some type of disconnect here -what is that? and if you're looking at the show, not as a work of fiction, but as a narrative, what else are we gonna do then assume that they have spent way more time emotionally connecting than we have seen on the screen.

And for me that’s everything I want in a ship, that ability to play and extrapolate random events and ask, okay now how would these all fit! And that’s what spawns great ideas and stories and art and why I ship it, dispute the fact that it really shouldn't work for me personally.

I think it’s why a lot of people still stop sterek despite the fact that the attitude towards it and the show has shifted a lot and in many different ways in the last decade.

Sorry for the rant, I’ve been thinking about this for days and had to get it out there. I hope I didn’t offend anyone. I truly love the Teen Wolf fandom and everything it’s done and everything it created and I’m so happy to be able to engage with it.

[romancomicsblog]

Do we need live action heroes?

To me, nothing has ever gotten me excited quite like superheroes.

I remember way back to my 7th grade. I was 12 years old, and had an incredibly difficult time that year. I did not have many friends yet, transferring into a new school, and was struggling to connect to anyone.

All I had was in that huge building was my brother, who was off dealing with high school. My grades slipped, my friends from my old school slowly drifted, and I found myself running more and more back to heroes for comfort. Whether it be movies, comics, or animated shows, superheroes helped me escape what would be the worst year of my life that far, with most of my joy and anticipation that year surrounding one singular event.

2012’s The Avengers.

All year until May I watched the trailer, looked at posters, and watched Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, Iron Man, Thor, or Captain America The First Avenger to get myself ready. I remember smiling, sitting for 3 hours in line before the film to get good seats for the gathering of my heroes, a culmination of years of waiting.

To this day, movies like Endgame or No Way Home come very close, but nothing felt like that to me. And while I understand part of it was me being a child, the MCU and other superhero movies have continued to give me comfort in the best of times and the worst times. They have constantly been a force for good for me and a way for me to connect to those around me. 

Which is why I’m sad to say, things have been bleak. Not in my life, but rather in the content that has been seen as acceptable to put out. Several big companies have been fumbling the ball lately with some devastatingly mediocre chapters in their respected sagas.

Last year was an abysmal year for DC, as they produced 4 flops at the box office. With the exception of Blue Beetle (which I love), each other entry in DC’s last year ranged from forgettable to downright abhorrent (I’m looking at you Flash). I was a big fan of the last Shazam and was pleasantly surprised by Aquaman, but both felt like they were going through the motions instead of bringing us exciting fresh takes on the characters that made the original two films great.

Due to the ever growing SPUMC (Sony Pictures Universe of Marvel Characters), we’re looking at a terrible year for superhero movies. We already had the perplexing Madame Web, with Venom The Last Dance and Kraven the Hunter to end the year. While these movies can have some fun performances, in general they feel sloppy, mismanaged, with subpar writing at best. As fun as it is to see Tom Hardy in a lobster tank, I don’t feel anything for Eddie Brock. And that sucks.

Finally, there’s the MCU.

Now, if you’re looking for me to bash entries in the MCU like The Marvels, you came to the wrong page, that’s not what this is.

In GENERAL, I like a lot of the swings they’ve taken since Endgame. Shang-Chi is still one of my favorite MCU movies. No Way Home had heart to it and wasn’t just a cash grab movie. Eternals had a vision and beauty I appreciate. Loki has one of my favorite finales of any tv show.

But they’ve been disconnected. It isn’t this seamless chapter book with a clear beginning, middle and end anymore. There is so much expansion with characters that we have no idea where they are going. To go back to just one of those I just mentioned, where is Shang-Chi? That movie was a hit, and yet we have yet to hear anything about a sequel or return.

Due to this focus on expansion, it’s hard to keep that connection with these characters if we don’t see them every few years. Where is America Chavez? Vision? Kingo? Thor? She-Hulk? This is a problem.

Couple this problem with the fact that VFX workers are worked to the bone, movies are being filmed without scripts finished, an emphasis on a multiverse storyline that doesn’t have a really clear path, and what seems like a vendetta against using comic book storylines, the films and television shows have been struggling to connect.

After all these catastrophes, you’d think it’d be a rough time to be a superhero fan. But really, it’s never been better.

Animation has been saving us.

To be fair, animation has always been respected and loved by the comic book community. X-Men the Animated Series, Batman the Animated Series, Young Justice, Spectacular Spider-Man and more have not only been people’s favorite superhero content, for many it is their in. I started by watching Spider-Man the Animated Series, and things have only gotten better from there.

Shows like My Adventures with Superman have reintroduced a new generation to Superman in a way that feels extremely accurate and fresh. It has also given us an incredibly adorable and heartfelt love story between Lois & Clark, something live action movies and shows really struggle with. Can you think of the last good couple in the MCU? And don’t say Spider-Man and MJ, because most of why we like them is because we like Tom and Zendaya.

Other shows like Invincible & Young Justice deal with heavy topics, such as grief, sexual orientation, gender identity, and trauma all in a way that feels human and real. Invincible in particular deals with grief and betrayal in its second season beautifully, all enhanced by incredible voice work from actors giving it their all.

Even the MCU has used animation in surprising ways. X-Men 97’ recently brought back the styling of the X-Men animated series, with the powerful messaging the X-Men are known for. With enhanced animation, a clear vision, and an emphasis on using classic comic book storylines, many are not only considering it a hit, but the best thing Marvel has done in years.

Even it’s more MCU heavy animated show What If had a much better second season, and while it’s not as deep or as good as the other shows I’ve mentioned, it’s worth noting it was a lot of lighthearted fun during the holidays. Definitely check out the Happy Hogan Die Hard episode.

Finally, Sony of all people gave us the best superhero film of the year last year with Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse. While everyone expected it to be good, I don’t think anyone expected it to be such an achievement. With incredible voice acting, a meta narrative about fans' relationship to the character of Miles, incredibly human moments and of course, a hero no one can not root for, Spider-Man Across the Spider-Verse easily will go down as one of the best superhero movies ever made.

I remember the ending of the film, where our heroes are finally gathered, and Miles is faced with what seems like impossible odds, and as the music swells, Gwen Stacy asks the audience “Are you in?”

And that was the moment I felt it again. The excitement, the joy, I really was a kid again, jumping out of my seat excited to see Beyond the Spider-Verse.

So if we can use animation to tell stories that connect, that show love stories in a way we haven’t seen, action in a way we haven’t seen, utilizing and respecting comic books, all while drawing out incredible performances, why are we emphasizing live action? 

I don’t think we truly need more live action shows of B list characters. And to their credit, I think studios are noticing too. Marvel has a few more animated projects coming out, and DC will be releasing Creature Commandos this year. But they will be putting out just as many live action shows focused on expansion as they have been.

Is it time to reconsider how we tell these stories? 

I know no matter what I say, we will get live action. And I’d be lying if I were to say that many projects out there excite me. Superman, The Penguin, Spider-Man Noir to name a few.

But I think it’s time we use superheroes to go back to their roots. We should be using superheroes to bring artists and animators to the forefront. Shows like Invincible, My Adventures with Superman and X-Men 97’ give us a clear picture of what superhero media can and should be. Story driven, beautiful, and full of meaning. Something we as people can finally connect to.

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider following, and check out my socials and other sites here! And let me know: What's your favorite animated superhero show?

[aritany]

what's the origin story for dgdss? if you don't mind 🥺

oho! well. as it happens, i love telling this story.

if you want to know how my childhood best friend writing a short story about me ended up leading to me getting a big 5 book deal, read on.

tw for reference to self harm and some...... unpleasant commentary (not mine) about it later on, folks.

so.

i was homeschooled until my very last year of high school (yes, like mean girls, except my mean girl dominated the first 15 years of my life and that last year was just blissfully chill) and like many homeschooled children, i was a part of a co-op.

cool, right? it's like School Lite™ where you put a group of feral children in a classroom, except you're all varying ages and grade levels, and also, nobody in the room is an accredited teacher, and nobody seems to have an issue with this.

my mom and her mom were best friends, and we were born around the same time, so naturally, we were best friends too from birth, and we were part of the same co-op all through my elementary and junior high school years.

anyway. i won't air all of the dirty laundry regarding our early friendship, because the whole book deal thing doesn't touch it, and i also think there's no need to be pointing out the behaviour of an Actual Child in retrospect. all you need to know is that we were best friends, our relationship was fraught, and by the time we hit 12-13 it was to the degree that people started telling me, hey man, this is Very Strange Behaviour and You Might Be A Victim, and i had to go do some introspection.

the introspection led to the general conclusion oh shit, but we stayed friends, because obviously. when you're 13, breaking up with a best friend is literally The End of the world, and anyway, there was a lot of good in there too, right?

right?

anyway, things took a turn when we were about 14. i struggled heavily with mental illness and self harm as a closeted religious teenager (who'da thunk?) and i confided in her about a small fraction of what was going on, because she was my best friend. i didn't tell her details, because even then i knew what i was experiencing was heavier than was probably appropriate to burden another kid with (and i stand by it!), but she knew the gist.

several Tense moments resulted, one of which was the day she pointed out self harm scarring in front of other people and asked me what happened, ran away, and refused to talk further about it, so i had to talk to her mom, who told me i should apologize to her, considering my mental health struggle had been so difficult... for her.

yeah, you know the type of people we're dealing with, here.

she was determined to undermine me in front of our mutual friends. anything to make me look worse, in one way or another. anything to step just a little higher. if i was interested in something, here's a public dissertation on why it's a dumb thing to be interested in. if i had a crush, forget keeping it a secret, and forget the notion that it's normal, because it's not, it's stupid, and shallow to have a crush in the first place. if we had a similar interest, here's a dressing down about how all i ever do is steal the things she likes (even if i liked them first).

needless to say, by the time the whole deal with the short story is going down a few short years later, we're on the rocks.

let me set the scene. we hadn't seen each other in several months, due to the On The Rocks of it all, and were meeting up for coffee while our moms were also getting coffee. hashtag classic homeschooled behavior, etc.

we're catching up, and she tells me she needs to apologize for something. i am, as you might imagine, agog, considering the rarity of apologies from this girl. she tells me she wrote a short story and submitted it to her university journal to be published, and that in hindsight she thinks she should have asked for my permission first.

i am, obviously, suspicious. to her credit, she gives it to me to read through and then leaves to go do christmas shopping. it's a muddy-ish faux-deep piece about a narrator who has a best friend struggling with mental illness and self harm.

(oh, you might say. to which i say, yeeeeah.)

in the story, the narrator depicts the struggle of trying to care about somebody who is in pain, referring to the best friend as 'cariad' the whole way through, which is just so weird i'm not even going to touch on it. google it if you'd like. the line that i still remember (and will probably remember until the day i die) is the one where she describes her cariad as feeling the need to use a razor as a microphone.

i honestly don't recall what i said when she eventually came back, but i contained all of the aggression of a piece of pocket lint at the time, so i imagine it was along the lines of oh. yeah, okay. [insert image of the saddest wettest cat you've ever seen]

i never saw her again. we went our separate ways, and that was that. we never talked about it.

(the one upside of it was that my mom, with whom i have a Notoriously Contentious relationship, was outraged on my behalf. that was the first (in many years) and last (ever) time we were on the same side of a battle, so, you know. silver linings.)

but the real indignity of it to me was that my friend never really knew. i never really told her about what was happening in my head. she never knew why i was hurting myself, or how bad it got, because i did everything i could to keep that to myself, and at the end of the day, she thought it was all for attention to the degree she wrote a transparently biographical account of it and chose razor as a microphone as a phrase on purpose.

dead girls started as a way to process the complicated feelings i had about that friendship and then obviously ultimately became a whole different creature in the process. i wanted to write about how it felt to go through that never having had another close friendship to compare it to, and how confusing and nauseating it was to have other people point out shitty behaviour.

it became about healing when you can't get closure. how do you move on when you'll never know why somebody hurt you?

nothing that happens in the book is based on real life events between us, partly because i'm not a hypocrite, and partly because if your work can be traced back to your personal experiences, perhaps you should do what you can to be kind.

'my julia,' as i like to call her (she is not named julia, because, oh my god) is nothing like julia hoskins in appearance or general personality. but the way she made me feel? oh, that's all there. nora feels it the way i felt it.

i wrote dead girls back in 2020, and got agented with it in 3 weeks of sending my first query. we got a book deal for it with a penguin random house imprint 1 year later to the day, and next week it's going to be out in the world, and i'm not going to lie, it feels really damn good.

also, her short story got rejected by her university, because it was bad. so you might lose some, but you win some, too.

[ritterum]

A Farewell to Arts

There's a strong possibility that in three weeks' time, I will pick up my violin for the last time and never have to play it professionally ever again. As somebody who has spent over 26 years playing the violin, this prospect fills me with a very complex mix of sorrow, dread, and relief. Relief is the easiest to explain: I hate playing the violin. This may seem strange for someone to say who has spent almost 3/4 of their life playing it professionally - but then again it's really not. I fell out of love with the damn thing about halfway through--Year 11 or 12--and everything since then has been an attempt to cling to it for purely rational economic reasons. Why give up the one skill you've been earning money for since before your teens? Why throw away the tens of thousands of hours you've invested in a skill for the sake of "because maybe I might like this other thing better"? Why reduce yourself to a nobody when you already have a fanbase, modest fame, reputation - everything that most people would kill to enjoy? When positive incentives stopped working, me and my handlers turned up the negative incentives instead - never a good idea in retrospect, but boyyy do the short-term gains blind you to the consequences. I burned out almost immediately, started skipping practice more and more, had to force myself to run through pieces that I could easily have done five, ten years earlier. When Covid-19 forced the world into a lockdown, I was secretly glad for it. I had concerts lined up that I had not prepared, could no longer prepare for, and being able to declare a pandemic-induced burnout, like so many of my colleagues worldwide were doing, was a heaven-sent alibi. I relished the freedom of not having to pick up the fucking instrument for days, weeks, months. After the lockdowns lifted, I pulled myself together enough to scrape by, since I was still taking a degree-course in solo performance. That worked for a couple of years, until I developed a tremor that may or may not have been psychosomatic in origin, and that more or less put a pin in the matter. On the good days, I can play more or less the same as I always have; on the bad days, I can hardly play a note because the bow keeps jumping all over the place.

That said, you don't spend over three quarters of your life doing something and not identify with it on a core level. There's always the question of what I'm going to do when all is said and done - when I get the degree and the diploma and lay down the violin for the last time in its case. The smart money is on performance-adjacent work: teaching, assisting in studios, managing other people's careers. Violin professors, luckily, don't need PhD's to teach in conservatories, but they do need their lucky breaks - usually starting as assistants. Availability for that depends heavily on the institution, and if it's not in the stars next year, then I'm damn well out of luck. Agenting and managing are somewhat easier - musicians always need agents to promote them - but the social requirements might prove a bit too high to hurdle. I've never been the most sociable of creatures, and the business will require me to put myself out there and be pushy, ruthless, and canny - traits I don't possess natively and have trouble summoning on the best of days.

Lastly, there's the regret of not hitting certain milestones under the "legacy" tab, little things like: performing at such-and-such festivals, or composing your own arrangement of a song, or being invited to performances in all major continents (excepting Antarctica, Nemesis to Violins). Some of those things, like composing arrangements, are still possible outside the theater, though getting them performed will take some convincing; the rest will, sadly, remain uncompleted. Then there's the matter of everybody you've met knowing you as "that musician fellow", and suddenly not having a thing to know you for anymore. What does the Pope become when he's no longer the Pope? You become defined by all the things you were, and the vastnesses you neglected to claim, rather than the things you try to build yourself up to be. It may not be a permanent state - it better not be - but you might as well get used to it while you build up a new skill set.

There's no clean ending to this. Terra incognita awaits me past the third week of January, and I sincerely do not know where I'll end up. I pray only that the New Year treat you as gently as I hope it treats me.

[ca-suffit]

my inbox got *so* quiet the last couple days but then I noticed something interesting.

almost everything was about sam or lestat again

then look at how virginia is posting now

and this

this side has always needed to pretend this is about something else so they don't have to talk about fandom racism. some of the asks I got might have been real but the timing of this feels sus. trying to get me to talk shit about sam but when I didn't post anything for days u decided to get the gossip rolling urself? that's what this is lol. faked outrage to stir the pot. u have to subtly aim at black fans again and also go deeper into ur weird parasocial sam reid feelings so u feel important and loved. wtf.

didn't u all send sam a fan art book and other stuff ur always being loud about cuz he mentioned having it in interviews a few times? don't u visit him on sets and tell him u luv him all the time (I've seen the posts lol). he's fucking with u so u will watch the show more and react just like this lol idiots.

the last fangs psa post also tried to pretend it was about this

the craziest thing about this tho is that after she was done aiming at the black and brown fans, she posts a big part about this white guy *with a lestat icon* but.............now it's about race??

isn't it weird how they can't keep to one story lol. it's all about hating lestat except for when u can't use that against a white lestat fan u wish would stfu so u pull the "I'm black" card instead and then reveal u have no friends lol.

this has never been about lestat or sam. it's an excuse because they don't have the range to speak about why lestat being judged for his ignorant white shit feels uncomfortable to them (especially if they want to fuck him, cuz I'm p sure fangs does). they get off power tripping on telling white fans it's okay to do racist shit if u hate the "right" ppl. her and keybearer are the first to do dumb shit to alienate themselves but blame everyone else for it. then cry to white fandom for hugs because they know how easy it is to get white ppl to feel good about shit if u stroke the fires of antiblackness in them. nobody is kicking u out of spaces unless ur doing some fuckshit but white ppl only hear "I'm black and ppl are being mean to me :(" and then rush to do the most racist shit ever because u just gave them a "good" excuse to do it. if a lot of black ppl are defending a white person who talks about antiblackness and ur the only black person saying that's wrong? u are the one who is the problem! especially because fangs and keybearer are both *not* american and nearly everyone from "this subset" is......and that is also the show's focus, that is louis' struggle! not to mention how fangs got upset about *this* in the cap but then had no issue pulling out talk of the fucking palestine genocide on a black american fan, to say that black americans don't suffer oppression. is this the real reason nobody likes ur bitch ass, mayhaps?

them being unable to let anyone know peace because of their own bad feelings is the most annoying thing. the show hits u over the head with the "memory is a monster" thing. we *know* we're gonna be seeing different versions of ppl and events and that's alot of what makes it interesting and fun. it's insane u keep pretending we're ignorant to this, as if u *also* haven't been crying for years now about "wait until lestat tells his side!!!!" we have fucking heard ur annoying asses jfc. WE KNOW.

but u have these ppl who can't hear a word against their fav without pulling out the books and showing u some sad lestat passage to change ur mind. girl shut up idc?? can't u let ppl like things as they come gd. what's the harm in enjoying the journey. u assholes are always saying ur so smart but then u have tantrums that the show isn't on book 12 already and ppl don't luv lestat enough yet. who tf cares? he's literally all the tags are whenever a 2 second clip shows up in any S2 thing rn, what are u even complaining about.

fucking crazy that this is louis' story but the focus is always on why isn't lestat getting more attention, why do ppl hate lestat, why is everyone mean to lestat. nobody frames it like that because then u'd v easily understand how stupid and racist this shit rly is. when u speak up in defense about any black character they literally accuse u of being the woke mob but ok lol. "did u listen to what jacob *a black man* said about the character being a crazy liar, sweetie??" (example 1, example 2) this shit is so obvious.

[denim-mixtapes]

here u go, enjoy this cute lil untitled birthday blurb in honor of @thefreak-thebanished HAPPY BIRTHDAY RJ ILY <3

Pairing: Eddie Munson/GN!Reader W/C: 527 Warnings: alcohol mention, smoking mention, I'm p sure that's it <3

Kicking the metal pipe into place to keep the roof door open, you breathe deep, thankful for the fresh air. It’s raining, just a little, a light mist on your face in the darkness of the night. Below you, your birthday party rages on, the light thumping bassline of the music is the only evidence of it this far up. 

You’re thankful for your friends and for the party they threw you, really, but sometimes they had the tendency to go way over the top and you’re more than partied out at this point. So you grabbed a bottle of wine from the counter, the book you’ve been working on this week, and made your way up to the roof. 

Except, you weren’t the only person to have that idea. 

Huddled in one of the cheap plastic lawn chairs, leg bouncing erratically, is your neighbor Eddie. He’s curled in on himself, shielding the cigarette dangling from his lips from the wind, and wrapped in his signature leather coat. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence until you land a little too heavily into the chair next to him, the legs scraping against the rooftop with an awful squeak. 

“Hey! There’s the birthday star,” he says with a grin, not so much turning to face you, but peeking at you through the curtain of his hair. 

“Hm,” you chuckle softly and reach for his wrist, pulling it in front of you to check the time. 12:26. “Not anymore, technically. Hope the noise isn’t what drove you up here. My friends got a little carried away.” 

Snatching his hand back playfully, he puts on a big show of shivering, “Christ, your hands are like ice. No, though. It takes more than a little loud music to scare me away.” His eyes soften as he shrugs out of his coat, and before you even have time to protest he’s dropping it on your shoulders. “Apparently the same can’t be said for you.” 

You take a swig from the bottle of wine, realizing it’s nearly empty now that you actually paid attention. Downing the rest of it, you set the empty bottle on the glass garden table with a loud clink! “So much for that,” you mumble under your breath. Then, louder, “nah, they didn’t scare me off, just needed some fresh air. And…maybe a bit of a break from the commotion.” 

“Well,” Eddie gestures widely to the open rooftop, “mi casa es tu casa. That’s Spanish for ‘you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like’...I think.” 

You giggle softly and roll your eyes, savoring the way he drops your gaze and his cheeks tint pink. “Not even close. And you don’t own the roof! But I appreciate the gesture.” 

“Either way,” he scoots his chair closer to your own and pulls a flask from the pocket of his jeans. He takes a swig first, hissing at the burn as the liquor hits his throat, then offers it to you. His grin only grows when you take the flask without hesitation and match his energy, and he slings an arm around your shoulder to tug you closer, “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

[candied-cae]

And Who Are We At The End Of The World? - Time Flies Until It Hits The Fan

Chapter 20/? - - - Read it on AO3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20]

Word Count: 10,048

Summary: Over the next few weeks, things start adjusting. Eddie and Nancy get together to plan how he'll defeat Ms. O'Donnell's Final Essay, and end up talking about some much more important things. Many different things and people across Hawkins shift around and in the end Jonathan and Nancy's relationship comes to a head.

Something has to change.

More ST Fics

-----------------------------------------------------

And time started to move on. Days passed by in faster succession than it felt like they had in the days of catching the fallout. They were in a rhythm that felt more like the normal world than anything really had. Nancy kept taking the time to stop by the Family Video most days. Always to return one tape and make her new pick from the comedy display. Never really even looking at any other genre.

It was helping, so she wasn't going to mess with the formula.

And she also had plans that following Friday.

Nancy and Eddie decided to meet in the library for their free period at the end of the day. Eddie caught up with her by her locker and they walked down to the end of the building together. A couple of pairs of eyes noticed, watching them make their way around the school. They were the writer of a major news story and the subject of said story, they all couldn't help but be intrigued by what those two were up to again.

Even the librarian made a bit of a face when he saw them enter side-by-side and mark off one of the study rooms on the check-in sheet. But they didn't really mind much. The two of them just went ahead and tucked into the privacy of a door and four walls, shuttering the blinds down over the window, and took their seats around the circular table.

Eddie started unpacking stuff from his bag and Nancy did the same. He pulled out a report card and a list of assignments he put together. Nancy got herself a spiral notebook and pen, ready to make notes and get a course of action set up.

They looked over his grades together. Most of which were pretty good, with various B's, a couple C's, and even an A- with the drama teacher. Well, pretty good grades except for the bane of his existence. Ms. O'Donnell's English Lit. Which currently sat with a D. Technically, it was barely passing. But if the final didn't hold that grade there, or higher, it was going to end his year as a fail in the grade books. Again.

It was probably a sore spot, but they needed to address that hurdle head-on.

Nancy blew out some air between her lips, twiddling the pen between her fingers, and tried to say it gently,“ So, why haven’t you passed it yet?”

She wasn't being judgy. She wasn't being mean. She just needed to know what the difficulty was and what was getting in his way if they were going to draw up a battle plan together. She needed to know what was going on so they could deal with it.

Eddie leaned back in his seat. Might've been avoiding eye contact for a moment.

“Cause she keeps failing me. Thought that was pretty obvious.”

“Okay, fine, but why? If you do the assignments well enough then she’d have no choice but to pass you, even if she doesn't want to. Otherwise, you would've had grounds to report it to the principal and gotten her grades overruled.” she reasoned. “But you didn't do that. So? What is it?”

“I don’t.”

Which was a pretty nothing statement.

“Don't what?” she pushed for more clarity.

“Don't do the assignments well enough.”

Nancy's head fell to the side,“ Why?”

“Not smart enough?” He crossed his arms around himself tighter. “Next question.”

But she just frowned at the idea. It didn't add up, and she wouldn't be fooled.

“Nope. No way am I buying that.”

That got him to look at her. “Excuse me?” he blinked.

“You’re excused,” she said, a little patronizingly. He might've laughed if he wasn't confused.

“No, what do you mean by 'you’re not buying that’?”

“I’m not.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re smart.”

And she said it like it was the obvious conclusion to draw.

Eddie just raised his eyebrows and asked,“ Do I look like a mirror to you, Wheeler?”

She rolled her eyes. And for a second, Eddie thought he was going to get a chuckle out of her. But she sat there with a serious face. Focused on making her point.

“Eddie, I have heard your vocabulary. I know that you’re an avid reader who plays an instrument. You manage those DnD sessions in both the planning ahead of time and improvising as it runs. You’re headstrong and a creative problem solver. All of which are things that point to you being very smart. So I'm really struggling to believe an essay you tried on wouldn’t be good enough.”

She leveled him pretty quickly, all things considered. Eddie almost felt like he'd just been made a subject of Nancy Wheeler's journalistic investigation for a second time.

“And I just saw your other grades, not a minefield of F's like you made it out to be. So, what is it? Do you just not try on your finals for her out of spite or something?”

“No.”

“Because I'd get that. Might say it's a little self-sabotage-y and immature. But I'd get it. And that's something we can decide to not let you do this time around-”

“I tried,” he answered honestly.

“Then what happened? I’d get that maybe the first time through, it might’ve been really hard, but if you tried on the last essay knowing what to expect then I don’t understand how you couldn’t-”

“I didn’t turn it in,” he said abruptly.

And that was certainly an answer.

Nancy got quieter when she asked,“ What?”

“I tried really hard on the last one. I spent weeks on her final essay. And then I… I didn’t turn it in.”

“Why not?”

There was this hesitation. Eddie looked at his hands. At the black painted fingernails Robin and El left him with. At the chipped-off flecks that had occurred during the usual wear and tear of his day not being gentle with his hands. Little pale pink spots of his skin showed through. He brought his thumb to the edge of the lacquer on a forefinger and started to pick at it.

“My first senior year wasn’t a good one.” he eventually said, keeping his eyes stuck on the task he'd set,” I didn't focus and blew a lot of it off. There was more than one class I needed to improve my grade in to graduate. But the last assignment I did that year was Mrs. O’Donnell’s essay. I wrote a paper and it wasn’t good, I'll admit that. I pushed it off because I got mad every time I tried to do it, so it became a rush job at the last minute. Whatever.”

Eddie shook his head. His hair moved around his head as he did. Catching on his shoulders and crowding in further around his face. Closing him in. And Nancy watched him carefully. Her eyes studied the guy sitting next to her. She could tell there was more to say. So she waited for him.

He took a deep breath. Puffed out his lungs like he was winding up to bite the bullet.

“But after I turned it in, before the bell rang for me to go to my next class, I got called to the principal’s office. Um-” he bit his lip,” They called to tell me that… that my dad died.”

Nancy immediately felt terrible. Her stomach dropped and her mouth fell open,” Eddie, I-”

There was a hurt sort of laugh that came from him. Just a defeated huff in the face of what he was saying. What he was remembering.

“It wasn’t so seriously sad like how I think losing your dad is supposed to hit you.” he clarified,” I mean, he was practically a stranger to me, so it mostly just made me feel numb-” he swallowed hard,” And weird. They let me take the rest of the day off to go home. I did. Took a couple of them off. And I don’t know- I just- Later, when I came back to class, I had failed the essay. So I just didn’t turn anything else in after that. In any of my classes. I guess I kind of just gave up on all of it.”

“That’s when I started buying off Reefer Rick more. And that summer, after the rest of my class graduated without me, was when I started dealing for him. I decided it was my best bet to have any cash and something to do. And that fall, I wanted to graduate. I really wanted out. I tried harder during the school year. Did fine enough in all the other classes. But always with Ms. O’Donnell… Every time I sat in her classroom, I’d remember ‘Here’s where I was the last time I thought my dad was alive.’ I didn’t focus well. Always got high at lunch right before I went in. And still, I told myself I was going to write a killer essay and pass enough to get out of there. I worked so hard on it. And when I tried to hand it in… I just froze.”

Eddie's fingers stopped moving. He wasn't casting little specks of nail polish onto the carpet anymore. He was just clenching his hands together, tightly. Looking at nothing and seeing everything that Nancy didn't.

His voice sounded so vacant as he remembered,“ And I thought ‘What if it’s not good enough again? What if I turn in another bad essay and something worse happens this year? What if I lose Wayne?’ And…”

Eddie's voice hitched. He looked up into Nancy's eyes after the sentence broke in his throat. For the first time since he got started, she could see what was happening in those deep browns. He wasn't full-on crying, but there were tears sitting on the edge. Just enough to communicate a kind of pain and fear that was all too real.

“And I know that’s stupid,” he explained. ”Some essay doesn’t decide whether or not people live or die, I know that. But, then she got to my desk. To the kid who failed last year, to the kid who never paid attention to her lessons, who came in faded the whole semester, who everyone assumed was going to turn out just like his dad, in and out of prison until he died, locked up and alone- And she asked if I did the assignment. And I had started pulling it out before she got there because I thought I was going to be fine, but when she said that I shoved the paper back in my bag. Said ‘No. I didn’t.’ and I walked right out in the middle of class. Didn't even get in my van, I just kept walking till I was off school grounds. ”

“Eddie…” she wasn't sure what else to say.

Maybe, if she didn’t know any better, she’d have started mindlessly blabbing a dozen I’m-so-sorrys. Maybe she'd have cried a bucket of sympathy tears because his tragedy was so hard for her to hear. Maybe Nancy would've wrapped him in a hug and told him it was going to be alright.

A promise she was in no position to make.

But Nancy knew better. Maybe not exactly how it felt to lose a semi-estranged father. But she knew how it felt to be living your life and suddenly the whole ground has fallen out from under your feet because someone you loved died, scared and alone, while you didn’t know any better. She knew that part. She knew how it took her over in the strangest ways she never anticipated.

And so, she didn’t know what to say. Because, to that day, Nancy still didn’t know what she wanted to hear after Barb died. She could never figure out that part. What words could have possibly made it hurt even a little bit less? She still had no idea what they might've been.

Eddie just tried to blink away his misty eyes,“ Anyway. That’s the big story. That’s why I’m still here.”

He pulled on a smile. A pretty insincere looking one. The kind a person wears to make sure no one talks about it. To change the subject and move on.

Nancy recognized it pretty well.

“Do you still have the other essay?” she asked him instead.

Giving him what he asked for without words. Hoping he could see that she was more than happy to follow him if he wanted to talk about it. But it didn't feel like he wanted to unpack anymore in one of the library study rooms.

“Heh, no. I dropped it in a burn pile at the trailer park on my way home.” he admitted, until it looked like an idea came to him,“ But, I do still have the notebook I worked on it in… and the rough draft… probably.”

“Okay. Then it’s a deal. Next time we meet, you are going to bring me that notebook and we’re going to remake the amazing essay you should’ve turned in last year, and we’ll work through the other few assignments she might dole out between now and then. And then you’re going to graduate. With the rest of us, Class of '86-ers.” Nancy said with pride.

Eddie commented,“ You’ve got a lot of faith for a paper you didn’t even read the last attempt on.”

“What can I say?” she shrugged,” I believe in you, Eddie Munson.”

“Nancy Wheeler…” he looked at her like she was a divine blessing,” You’re an enigma, you know that?” Eddie wiped at his eyes some, trying to get them back to normal,” I can’t believe I just spilled all of that to you. I do not talk to people about my dad. Like, ever. Blegh. That was weird.”

Nancy just smiled. She reached out with her elbow and bumped his. “It’s what comes when you face hell together with someone. You end up sharing some of the other fucked up stuff about your lives too.”

Eddie smiled back at her. More real that time. And then the school bell rang over the intercom system. Students were officially let out. The two of them started packing up their things. Slipping the straps of their bags over their shoulders. Nancy was just reaching to pull out her car keys when an idea came to her.

“Are you doing anything later?”

Eddie thought for a moment,“ Corroded Coffin's got a band rehearsal tomorrow, but, no, nothing today. Why?”

“Then, how would you like a little trip to the Wheeler's? Don't have to stay for dinner - I wouldn't recommend for anyone who doesn't have to, sit there and deal with Ted Wheeler's table manners - but there's absolutely snacks in it for you before then.”

And Eddie’s eyes shone with another smile. “Sounds like another great deal. I think I'll take you up on that, Nan.”

“Ew, what am I, your grandmother?”

“I’m just trying something new! Now that we’ve leveled up our friendship with some tears at the library.”

It didn't take long for them to make it out of the school and get on the road, most of the students waited around on Fridays making plans before they took off. So Nancy got into the station wagon and, once he was behind her, Eddie followed her on the way over. Leading him right up to the Wheeler's front door. Eddie was let into the home with a warm welcome from Nancy's mother. Karen hung her head from the kitchen when they came in. An expression of surprise painted over her face when she realized it wasn't Mike trailing behind his older sister into the living room.

“Oh. Hello, Eddie.”

“Hello, Mrs. Wheeler.”

She wasn't too worried. Ever since Will and El got back to town, Mike and the others have been riding his bike to and from school most days again versus stowing away in Nancy's passenger seat. Plus, it was nice seeing Nancy bring someone by the house after school again. That hasn't really happened since…

Nancy quickly made for the pantry,“ We're just gonna grab some snacks and head upstairs.”

“Okay.” Karen nodded softly. Mentally hoping not to spook Nancy or her guest off. Seeing as it was something she's just got the nerve to have again. “I take it all the boys and El are back helping at the Cabin again?”

“Probably. They were all by the bike racks when we got out. Waved when I pulled away and everything.”

“Alright. Just keep an ear out if Mike needs to get picked up later.”

“Got it.” Nancy already had some treats stacked up in her arms when she turned around to ask,” Are there any brownies left?”

Karen motioned to the nearly empty container on the oven top,“ Just the corner pieces.”

“Score. I will take that one.” Eddie delightedly remarked.

“Oh? Finally, we've found someone that won't turn their nose up at the extra chewy edges.”

“Absolutely not.” he assured her,” The corners have always been my favorites.”

“Alright then. You've just earned yourself a standing invitation whenever I need help clearing leftovers. What else do you eat?” Karen started.

But Nancy dropped the items from her hands into Eddie's and then got him turned around. Started pushing him back towards the stairs. She excused them over her shoulder as they made their way up,“ We just came from the library essay planning, can't lose this momentum, Mom.”

“Okay, okay. You're free to go. Just keep it down, I'm expecting a phone call from Mrs. Peterson in a bit.”

“Got it.”

The two newfound pals shuffled up the staircase and into the second-floor hall. Nancy ushered Eddie to her door like they had anything to really be running from. He was laughing a little at her dramatics when they got inside. Spilling the sweets and salty morsels onto her bed, watching the soda cans bounce off the softness of it and crinkle against the plastic bags.

Eddie was the last one to see it, now that it was finally his turn to look upon the room. Well, the 1986, right-side-up version. He saw the 1983 upside-down one already. But that had, of course, been outdated and covered in dust and decay.

The one in the real world was remarkably nicer to look at. There were still frilly curtains and pink all over, but she also had a Tom Cruise poster and Blondie cassettes, and a shoebox with two handguns in the closet he was privy to.

Night and day, in some of the strangest ways.

It wasn't only Eddie's first time in Nancy Wheeler's real bedroom, it was actually his first time in any girl's bedroom.

Getting into one had never been a focus of his before. And it wasn't even then, not in the way most boys meant it. But Eddie wasn't most boys. Just like Nancy wasn't most girls.

They'd talked for a little while. On and on about nothing really. Nothing really important or deeply cutting. Just the smaller, surface-level things. Eddie's favorite color was red, and despite present appearances, Nancy's was blue. But more like a powder blue than a cobalt, she specified. Eddie said he liked his reds more ruby than orange-ish.

He asked how much she really liked Top Gun to have sprung for the poster for it. She laughed so hard she snorted. Her hand flew to her face to cover her nose and he just pushed and pushed. She threatened to break into what was left of his room so she could make fun of whatever posters he had on his wall. He might've begged her not to, while also insisting he had nothing that was possible to make fun of. Because all his stuff was cool. Even if people didn't get it, they just weren't cool enough for it.

That would've been his defense if she took him up on the challenge anyway.

He'd looked at this little, plush thing she had hanging on the wall. Like a girly kind of corkboard to pin and hang stuff off of. With fabric and ribbons on it to make it pretty. And it held up pictures and handwritten notes. Sentimental stuff.

She'd followed his eyes. Seen it. Knew what sort of stuff used to be presented on it. Until she took them down and tucked them safely into her bedside drawer because it got too hard to look at all the time.

The energy shifted in the room when Nancy abruptly said,” Barb was my best friend, you know.”

Truth be told, Eddie didn't really know. He barely knew Nancy until his life went to hell. He noticed years before that a boy went missing, and then a girl went missing, and the boy came back, and the girl didn't. He knew that about a year later all that news about government experiments and cover-up came from their very backyard. He'd heard that the missing girl became a dead girl because of it. But he didn't really know much beyond that.

Wasn't wrapped up in much of Barbara Holland's business before.

Didn't know who her best friend was, or that he'd come to know her pretty well himself.

“Yeah?” he offered anyway. He didn't know, but she could tell him about it.

“Yeah. She died back when everything started.” She swallowed hard. Curled her fingers into a fist. “I didn't find out anything was wrong until the next day. And even then, nobody wanted to listen to me. It drove me crazy.”

It sounded heartbreaking. “I can only imagine,” he told her.

“But even after, months after, I went sort of off the rails in my own way sometimes too.” And he started to see where she was going with it. “I thought I saw her sometimes. Like out of the corner of my eyes, around the halls at school. If I looked at the back of Ellen Brady's head too long. They sort of had the same hair. Went to a party and tried a little too hard to pretend I was okay.”

She sort of knew what it was like. Losing someone all of a sudden. Having trouble getting back to “life as usual.” And she was telling him that she got it a little.

“Yeah. Happens to the best of us, I guess. Can't see it coming, and then it does and…”

He didn't really finish the thought. Wasn't even quite sure where it was going. But Nancy picked back up. Seeming to know more of what she wanted to say than he did.

“Only happens sometimes to me, though. Never long enough to get stuck.” She sympathized,“ I never really found myself lucky for handling it as well as it did to stay on track with school, at least. I was always so focused on the hurting part.”

“Well, that's probably because it hurts. A lot. And often.” Eddie's eyes darkened as he looked away,“ And it's lonely.”

Nancy held her attention on him. On his bouncing knee. Like Mike did when he was thinking too much.

She agreed,“ It is. Because no one else really got it. No one cared about Barb like I did. And Will came back for Mike. No one around me ever lost a friend like that. So I was just… alone. Feeling it.”

“I was serious when I said I never talk about my dad with people. I'm not sure if most of my friends even knew he was ever in prison. And I didn't say anything after he died. I was just… fucked up all of a sudden. And that was that.”

He looked back at her. It wasn't the same in that way for Nancy and she knew it.

“Everyone knew something was up with Barb. And the people in the know knew what actually happened. I felt like I was always surrounded by it, and under an NDA so I wasn't supposed to talk about it, but I needed to. Or wanted to. Or just wanted to not need to.”

Eddie just watched her. He could see there was something else brewing under her skin. Something she was getting to that must torture her all the time. Even still.

“And that felt impossible,” she admitted,” But the worst part was probably that we had been so close, and then… we started to get some distance. There were disagreements and tension and not-quite-fights. Walking away. I told her to leave. And then she was actually gone.”

Ah. The regret. The kind that was way worse than not appreciating enough. It felt like not appreciating at all. Even though they did. They did appreciate their people in some ways. But life happens. Things change and feelings get coiled up into infuriating knots. And then people die. At seemingly the worst time. Right before a reconciliation could've happened. Should've happened.

It sparked a memory in him.

“The last time my dad went in… I asked him if he was even trying to stay out. Asked if he preferred having an excuse and being locked up versus being out in the world and having to actually get to know me. Asked him why he and Wayne didn't just lie about which brother was my father since it would've been simpler the other way around.”

He looked back on that day often. Hated how it all shook out. Wished he was someone who could've swallowed that anger instead of spitting it out.

“And I felt like shit a while after I said it. But I didn't want to apologize because I definitely still felt some of it. So I didn't call as much as I used to. And then it wasn't an option anymore.” Eddie sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth,“ It sucks so much more to have been putting that distance in right before…”

“Yeah,” she agreed. For the first time having someone get it. Get that part that always made her feel crazy. Like a cruel, selfish bitch. “It feels like… 'Why couldn't I have at least been nice? Even if I couldn't have stopped it, couldn't I have at least been better to them? If I knew what was going to happen, I would've. I'm not a bad person who wanted to hurt them in the time they had left. I swear, I'm not.' But that's how it happened anyway.”

Eddie shook his head. “But it wasn't your fault. Teens say stupid shit and get in stupid fights. She had to know things were supposed to get better between you two. If there was just a little more time after the dust settled.”

“Same goes for you, you know. Parents know that kids get frustrated and blow up sometimes. He knew that you didn't… hate him, or anything like that. Had to know you wanted to apologize.”

“Yeah. Wayne said that kind of thing to me lots. Never really bought it though.”

“Did you guys have good memories?” Nancy cocked her head to the side. A little crease appeared between her brows after she asked. Listening. Intently.

“Most of them were messy, one way or another. This one time he 'borrowed' a neighbor's kiddie pool and didn't tell me no when I said we should put food coloring in the water. They never found out who stained it purple.” Eddie chuckled to himself, picturing it happen all over again. “And he knew the reason I wanted to start learning guitar was because of a picture I saw of him playing one by a bonfire. He bought my first one while he was out for a bit. Showed me some of the chords before he slipped up again.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It was.”

“Is.” she corrected him,” The memories aren't going anywhere.”

Eddie let the idea soak in a second before he decided,“ No. Guess they aren't.”

They kept talking after that. But, eventually, they had to get Eddie out of there before Ted got home and made a big fuss about everything. Complaining about missing corner pieces even though he was never going to eat them, it usually came down to Mike. Throw a fit at the dinner table about “unsavory company" to have under his roof. Stuff like that.

Nancy offered to let him crawl out the window and scale the gutter to get out. He just joked that he'd leave that business to her boyfriends of past and present. Went down the stairs, stopped to say goodbye to her mom and put the container in the sink, and went out the door. Got into his van and headed for the video store. There was probably someone he ought to annoy hanging around there. Even though it was later than usual.

Eddie and Nancy continued to meet up once or twice every week to tackle schoolwork and the big essay. And sometimes just to talk shit about anything and everything. They ended up getting along better than anyone had really planned for. Karen also appreciated having another set of hands around to entertain Holly sometimes before Ted got home.

Will and El enjoyed being able to go to school with their friends again. It was a lot less isolating than being in Lenora was. There was still a lot of history hanging over the both of them, which was the whole reason Joyce took them away in the first place. To get their fresh starts somewhere new. But they preferred to deal with having a history than sometimes feeling like they had no one.

The kids still visited Max's hospital room often and helped with the Hopper-Byers cabin in their free time. Everyone had their own tapes just in case of an emergency. Lucas and El even teamed up to put together Max's with the stuff she had in her bedroom. Radio sets were bought and set up at both Steve's house and the Cabin.

El was able to look for Dr. Sam. She saw him, and he wasn't dead. But she couldn't tell exactly what was going on. Most of the time she checked, he was just sitting silently in a chair. Leaned forward on a metal table. Looking at his wringing hands with a stern expression. No one around.

No talking she could listen in on.

No one really knew what to do with that. So they just tried to keep on, keeping on. Moving through the motions of what “normal” was supposed to look like. It was weird trying to pretend like everything was alright when Max was still in a coma. When they were still waiting for the end of the world to come back up.

They still hadn't found Vecna/Henry/One. Every time Will so much as felt a chill, they had El sit down and try. Blindfolds, television static, the works. But it wasn't leading anywhere.

And despite all that uncertainty and weirdness, the time passed. Progress was made.

Before they knew it, two more weeks had come and gone. And the Hopper-Byers Cabin was officially move-in ready. Including the additional rooms they built off the sides to accommodate the increase in residents since the last time it was lived in. Dmitri and Mikhail even had some space, and Murray was getting thrown to the couch until their passports, IDs, and home loan signed to the United States government came through and they'd take up one of the abandoned houses in the suburbs.

As the end of April closed in, it was finally time. Everyone came together to spend the weekend getting all nine of them moved out of Steve's. A fact many of them were pretty happy about. Except for maybe Hop, when he mourned the idea that he might never get to soak in a jacuzzi tub ever again. He'd kind of liked the little bit of luxury.

And Family Video finally had three workers besides Steve and Robin. So they were able to work out a much more manageable schedule between them all. Even left Robin time to go on covert dates with Vickie pretty often. Steve took to a different use of his off hours.

Sitting in Max's hospital room.

With his house emptied out, it felt like a better way to be alone. By not actually having to be alone. Especially as the kids started getting bogged down with homework and keeping an eye out for supernatural enemies. It was good to have someone with her for part of the school day and as much after as he could.

The first night he was set to go back home alone - the Monday after all the moving - he'd been sitting at her bedside for a few hours when the nurse came to send him on his way. And going back home became a daunting thing it hadn't quite been for so many weeks. He used to always be headed somewhere to sit in silence… but that routine had been interrupted. Suddenly, he had to think about a house full of turned-off lights, no dinner warm and waiting for him, and no one to greet him when he pushed open the door.

The nurse repeated to him,” Sweetheart, we gotta get you on your way. It's like bar rules at closing time: Don't care if you're going home, but you can't stay here.” She had a kind laugh as she said it, probably made that joke more than a couple of times in her day.

But Steve just didn't have the heart to immediately get up. She tried again,” We might've been able to loosen on our hours now that things aren't so emergent, but all non-family has to be out of patient rooms by six o'clock now. And you’ve been dropping by here enough to know that.”

“I know. I just-”

He couldn't think of anything to say. To excuse why he just couldn't seem to get to his feet. And then Nurse Brown's eyes softened where they'd fixed on him. She let out a little sigh and decided to let him in on an idea.

“Tell you what, if Susan approves special permission to have you listed with family visitation privileges, I’ll file the paperwork and you can start staying later. But it won’t be tonight, so you best head on home and get you something to eat.”

“Okay. Okay, thanks.”

“Course, sweetheart.”

The next day he saw her and asked. And Susan agreed. Like it was the simplest thing to say yes to. Like there wasn’t even a doubt in her mind.

And despite one very expensive utility bill hitting the Harrington bank account, there wasn't so much as a phone call made about the fact. Either his dad didn't really read it, or he'd been away from home so long he couldn't remember what a normal amount was. Whichever way it was, Steve wasn't going to complain.

Things had… come together. Or cleaned themselves up. Mostly.

Settled into place in a temporary sort of way. Like maybe it'd all still mostly be like that after Vecna was actually dealt with. But in the meantime, they were all still in prepping mode. Not wanting to go soft and get caught with their pants down.

A little while after people got cleared out of Steve's house, the government came through for the Antonovs. Dmitri and Mikhail were given birth certificates, social security numbers, IDs, and a place to live. It wasn't right next to the Wheelers like Dmitri had joked about with Karen, but it was in that neighborhood, believe it or not. There was another round of moving efforts to get the two of them and Murray into their new sleeping quarters.

And once it seemed like all the people had gotten re-shuffled to where they were supposed to be… Joyce thought it'd be nice to have a little dinner among themselves at their cabin Monday evening. Something as a little celebration for making it through the rumble. But the invitation was also extended to Nancy.

She and Jonathan hadn't been meshing together like they used to. She's been busy, spending time with Eddie, and just seeming… different. Not wrong, just different. Jonathan's been readjusting back to going to school at Hawkins and sticking pretty close to Argyle, seeing as he was the new guy in town.

And honestly, Jonathan was starting to convince himself that he maybe didn't need to listen to Argyle. Maybe he didn't need to break up with Nancy. Maybe there was a way out of it. If they could just find a way to be boyfriend and girlfriend comfortably again, maybe he could explain that the idea of being too far away from his family made him sick. And they could figure something out, while he figured out how to be in love and be good enough again.

It wasn't quite like they were avoiding each other. They saw each other sometimes, laughed and made small talk during lunch, and studied quietly at the same table in the library. They interacted, but it felt like there was stuff going unsaid. Something being ignored and brushed over. Something that, even though they both wanted it dealt with, neither wanted to face and bring up.

They had reasons for being a little distant. “It's just been so hectic with all the finals coming up.” “We're all so stressed about how or when things are going to get worse.” “I'm just too tired to do more right now.”

Things had been sort of awkward and stilted. And as much as it seemed easier to just let it be, Nancy was at the end of her rope. She didn't like not having answers. She didn't like being in the position of trying to maintain something by walking on eggshells.

If it was ending, it just needed to end.

So, she was driving the two of them out to the cabin for dinner, and when she put the station wagon into park next to the other cars, she started trying to break up with him. To excuse herself before they went in for dinner with his family and it just became a more complicated mess.

She shut off the engine and rested her hand on the keys, but didn't pull them from the ignition.

“I don’t think this is working, Jonathan.”

She was speaking gently. Kindly and honestly. Just stating an unfortunate fact of the matter.

Jonathan sat back into the seat from where he'd started getting up. It was a little out of nowhere. Just a second before they were talking about Murray's electrical work on the cabin and hoping he knew what he was doing enough that it wouldn't accidentally trigger a forest fire one day. But what Nancy said surely wasn't related.

“What?” he asked her.

“I… I just feel like we keep going in opposite directions. And it’s not just been since California. Even at the Hawkins’ Post, we were butting against one another and just… now it seems like we can’t even talk to each other.”

Jonathan blinked at her and tried,“ We can talk to each other.”

“Can we? Because I don't feel like we have. You've been back in town for over a month now and I still feel like there's something wrong. Some rift between us. And I don't know why we're holding back, I don't know if it's just because we got so used to only talking over the phone or if it's because we're both trying not to be scared of what Vecna means for El and Will when he comes back or… if it's something else entirely?” Nancy leaned forward with a heavy breath falling from her lips,“ But I feel like there's gotta be something. Because we don't feel like we used to.”

Jonathan didn't know what to say first. That it was all his fault, that he's been hoping some switch would flip and he'd be okay again, that he's been lying and procrastinating with only Argyle's counsel telling him that he needed to be honest… That he wished he'd never let any of it go on so long because it kept making it harder to admit.

“I’m sorry.”

And Nancy's brows furrowed to hear that. “No, I don’t want your apologies. I just want to know if I’m crazy for feeling like this or if you understand where I’m coming from. If you even see it?”

His voice almost caught in his throat. Quiet and small he tried to agree,“ I see it, Nance. I-”

“Kids!” Joyce yelled from the open front door, warm light from the cabin spilling out around her into the dim evening forest surrounding them,” Supper’s ready and on the table already! Come on in before it gets cold!”

“We're all waiting!” Will's voice carried from behind her. She shot another pointed look for them to hurry up before she went back inside and closed the door.

Nancy shook her head,“ I don’t think I should-”

“Can we just make it through the dinner? And we can talk after?” Jonathan asked.

And maybe if he left it there, Nancy would've said no. She shouldn't go to dinner with his family while they're in the middle of a serious talk. Especially not one she was expecting to end in a breakup.

But then he said “Please.”

So, she argued with herself. Thought that she might as well let them have one more nice evening. One more memory for the road. And she was expected. She didn't need to embarrass him by canceling from the driveway.

Nancy decided,“ Okay. We can make it through dinner. And we'll talk after.”

She leaned over the console and pressed a kiss into Jonathan's cheek. She pulled on a thin smile and took the keys out of the ignition. He returned the small smile. Gave a curt nod.

They were in agreement.

Just make it through dinner, and they were going to figure it out after. Whichever way it would go.

The two of them went inside, greeted Hop and Joyce, El, Will, and Argyle, and joined the five of them at the table. It was a steak dinner with a wide array of homey sides, mashed potatoes, brown gravy, steamed carrots, green beans, etc. All the sort of stuff that made sense for a small dinner with something to be thankful for. It was pleasant.

They all small-talked in circles as they ate. Eventually, the topic of California came up. They were all checking with Argyle for the hundredth time that he and his parents were okay with him staying in Hawkins as long as he had. Promising over and over again that it was okay for him to go back home without seeing this whole mess through to the end with them.

He never wavered though. So Joyce smiled and gave a breathy laugh, muttering about all the apologies she'd have to make when they stopped back in Lenora at some point. Probably after they thought things are really over. And then she said something about loading up another moving van to bring all their stuff back to Hawkins. Which struck Jonathan for the first time.

They must've not talked about it, or at least not clearly enough, because he didn't realize they were moving back to Hawkins permanently. His mother just sort of snickered and agreed, yes, that's why they renovated Hop's whole cabin to fit them comfortably. But even though that made sense, the whole thing didn't.

It didn't make sense for Jon and his plans.

All of a sudden, it slipped out.

“We can't move back here, I applied to Lenora Community College so I could stay with you guys at home!”

And then the whole dinner pulled to a screeching stop.

Forks froze in people's hands, bites of food when un-chewed as that truth settled in, eyes widened and stuck on him in shock.

“What?” came from four different directions around him.

Joyce. Will. El. And, most urgently, Nancy.

Jonathan's throat immediately went dry as he realized the shit storm he just kicked up.

“What the hell?” Nancy questioned him again. Though, quickly becoming more angry than confused.

“I…”

“Jonathan, what's going on?” his mom asked seriously while she tried to understand.

Argyle looked at him with an expression that said something nicer than “I told you” and “This is going to be bad.” But Nancy's eyes were set in her hurt. In the betrayal. In the fury and rage and shock. She wiped her mouth off with her napkin before smacking it down onto the table and storming out the door. Not another word.

“Nancy,” Jonathan called after her. Getting up from his chair and following just a few seconds behind while she nearly ran to the car.

It was all such fucking bullshit.

“Leave me alone.”

“Stop. Nancy!”

She grit her teeth together with her hand on the car door handle,“ I'm serious, Jonathan. Go away.”

He didn't want it to happen like that at all. He wanted to fix it. Or soften the blow. Or just explain. He wanted to explain what happened. To tell Nancy he wasn't trying to hurt her, that he'd never try to do that.

He slowed down a few feet away and reached out for her,“ Can I please just-”

With a sharp snap, she turned to face him. Her eyes set on him hard. His hand retracted from the harsh reaction.

She only had one question for him,“ Did you even apply to Emerson?”

That one question was all she needed to decide how mad she was going to be. And when he stuttered under the pressure, not a word to defend himself from the truth, she knew. She knew she was going to be as mad as she could possibly get.

“So how many months were you - not even by omission, just straight up lying to me - telling me you were still waiting for your acceptance letter? How many times did I try to make you feel better just because I got in early admission and you 'hadn't heard back yet'? When did you decide to just drag me along even though you decided you were done being invested?”

Jonathan just looked down and uttered,“ I'm sorry.”

Nancy's lip curled in something just less than a snarl.

“I already said I don't want your apologies. I just wanted to know if I was crazy. Turns out I wasn't and you just decided you were done with me but didn't have the decency to let me know-”

He stepped forward,“ I wanted to say something, but I didn't know how to!” he was desperate to correct her assumption,” I mean, you saw it, my mom didn't even know that I… I was trying to figure it out, how to tell you without hurting you, and- and Argyle tried to tell me I just needed to do it and stop-”

“Argyle?” she scoffed,” So you two were just laughing with yourselves over how fucking clueless I had to be to just believe you this whole time, huh?”

“No! No, absolutely not-”

She cut him off,“ I don't care. And if it wasn't clear, we're done. Just leave me alone.”

With a quick yank on the car door, she climbed into the driver's seat and was backing out before Jonathan could even figure out what he would've said next if she waited.

And part of him was pissed at her for not hearing him out, like the last two and a half years of dating, and the year of friendship before that, meant nothing because of this one time he fucked up. Another part of him was pissed at Argyle for having practically warned him it would happen like this because he kept waiting. Another part was just pissed at himself for being the fault of all of it.

“Jonathan?” Joyce asked from the porch, they'd heard pretty much all of the yelling from inside,“ Can we talk about what just happened?”

But another part of him was pissed at his mom for making it all come up when she told him they were staying at Hawkins during that special dinner.

“We were going to talk after…” he whispered to himself.

Because maybe if they had gotten to have the conversation they planned on after eating, maybe it would've gone better. Maybe Nancy would've listened and maybe they would've understood each other and maybe no one would've eavesdropped on him getting dumped after being exposed as a callous liar.

“What was that?” she asked, not nearly close enough to have heard him.

“I said, no thank you.”

And Jonathan stomped off into the woods. To kick rocks, snap twigs, and be pissed at all the people he wanted to be pissed at. Alone.

Nancy was driving, but she didn't really know where she wanted to go. Tears streamed down her cheeks that she had to wipe off onto her sleeves while she went. She was at least proud that she held them in until she left. She didn't want to cry in front of Jonathan after what he did.

How could he do that to her?

All those conversations, all those plans, all those promises. Worthless. He was just walking away. And there was this speck of Nancy's brain that said “hurting a good person just like his dad did.” She was thankful it wasn't something she'd thought of to say to his face. Because she felt bad about that one as soon as she thought it.

But she was hurt. And angry. And she didn't want to go home and be hurt and angry alone. To walk past her family having a perfectly normal and boring dinner and hear her mom call after her “I thought you were going over to the Byers’ for supper?” To run up the stairs just to avoid having the answer. To sniffle into her pillow until the headache set in.

She didn't want that. She wanted to fix it because Nancy liked fixing things. But she didn't know how to fix her and Jonathan. Not like how they were after what he did.

And while she tightened her hands on the steering wheel, and wrestled with thoughts about wanting to fix something, all she came up with was something Robin said to her.

Right after it all happened, when they were waiting in the hospital together. Nancy had held Robin's hands when she was getting nervous about Steve, and then Robin held hers while she worried about Mike. And then Robin smiled and started joking trying to get her to laugh; suggesting she got back together with Steve Harrington.

Robin said,“ You might’ve not been right for one another back then, but I don’t think any two people have changed as much as you guys have.”

And, hey, maybe she had a point.

She and Jonathan just went up in flames, she didn't want to be alone, and she and Steve have changed. Maybe that was the thing she could fix. Maybe that was the next step. And even if it didn't last forever, it could last for a little bit. Just so she wasn't alone.

So Nancy got turned around at the next light, and she headed towards Loch Nora. Rolling down her window and speeding more than she should on the way. Trying to dry her face and get there before she started crying again.

When Steve heard his doorbell ring, he almost didn't answer it.

Now that he was living alone again, anybody stopping by without calling first probably had to be a Jehovah's Witness or salesman. He really didn't want to chat with either. But it was almost nine o'clock at night. That was a strange time of day for the previously mentioned sort of visitors.

So he pulled himself up from the couch and went to the front door. Making the effort of a little jog when the doorbell rang again on his way over.

“I'm comin', I'm comin',” he commented under his breath. But opening the door to see Nancy Wheeler on his doorstep was a surprise.

What was even more of a surprise was the messy hair, the bright red, glassy eyes, puffy lids, and tear-stained cheeks. He almost winced at the look of her, because Nancy doesn't look like that. Ever. But she just smiled under the clear distress and took a step forward before Steve had really even welcomed her in.

“Hi, Steve,” she said casually like she didn't know the state she was in.

“Hi, Nancy. What're- What's got you stopping by my side of town?” he asked, pulling the door back and giving her room to come the rest of the way in.

“Just… Thinking about things.” she hummed as she passed him,” About me. About you. About a combination of the two.”

“Thinking about… us?”

“Yeah. About us. And the way we used to be 'us'. Before me and Jonathan, obviously.” Nancy kept striding into the living room. Her fingers swept over the top of the hall table as she went. Hearing Steve close the door behind her instead of seeing it.

“Okay, um,” he thought and started to follow her into the house,” And- and what sort of things were you thinking about? About us?”

Nancy stopped. Waited a moment before she turned around to face him, a slight falter in her balance as she did, per all the exhaustion that was still collecting in her. But, she regained her stance. And she looked into his eyes and wondered,“ We used to have fun, didn't we?”

“Yeah… we did.” Steve studied her before he worried,” Nance, is something going on? Do you need a ride home or to crash here for the night?”

Her expression dropped. “I'm not drunk,” she told him. Almost disappointed that was the conclusion he came to out of what she was saying.

“You're just a little wobbly and-”

“I'm tired,” she brushed off and turned back around to finish making her way to his living room.

“And you're talking about us from almost three years ago-”

She abruptly told him,“ Jonathan and I broke up.”

And those words cut through the air, sharp and sudden.

“Oh.”

Steve wasn't really sure how to react. He liked them together after everything, he thought. If they were happy, it was one nice thing that came out of the Upside Down ruining a lot of people's lives. If they were happy, it was one nice thing that came out of him and Nancy breaking up.

But they weren't happy, and then they weren't together, and now Nancy was in his house talking about them and what they used to have together.

A question that kept coming at him from all directions. Something he used to think about all the time and want. And now that he's been saying for weeks that he doesn't anymore… was that really true? Did he care?

Nancy kept going, taking a seat on Steve's white couch and sinking into it, fussing with the pillow next to her,“ I broke up with him because he's been lying to me and leading me on and so, now we're nothing.”

But even if Steve Harrington did want to be with Nancy Wheeler again, that wasn't the time. She was obviously hurting and a good friend would be offering support, not thinking about what they can get out of the opportunity presented to them.

So Steve stepped up. Sat down next to her, leaving about a foot of space between their seats, and spoke earnestly to Nancy.

“I'm sorry to hear that, Nance. Did you want to talk? Or is there anything I can do-”

“I seem to remember we had a lot of fun kissing. Right, Steve?”

Steve was a bit at a loss because that wasn't really what he was getting at. And maybe that was what Nancy was getting at, but maybe not. It would be rude to assume because maybe she just really wanted to reminisce. So Steve just agreed. “Yeah. Yeah, we did that a lot. I guess. Teenagers, it's what we do.”

But then Nancy shifted herself a little closer. Leaned in a little more.

“I miss having fun with you.”

And that caused Steve some pause.

“Are you saying…?”

“I don't want to be sad about Jonathan. I just want to have fun.”

Then she was kissing him.

Nancy was kissing Steve. And despite being slightly stunned, he started kissing back. They closed their eyes and sat together in the dark of his living room. Kissing with the kind of practiced familiarity that exists when two people have done that sort of thing together before.

And it was nice.

In a way, it had to be.

It was two people who cared about each other, connecting in a way they used to.

Nancy starting to move in. Deepening the moment, making it more, and heating it up.

She broke the kiss to breathe, and in that second she whispered something.

“I love you, Steve.”

And maybe she did, maybe she didn't. Maybe she didn't have the time or clarity to think about it enough. Maybe she shouldn't have said it if she wasn't really sure. But it all broke apart because she said she didn't. So the best idea she had, in that moment while she had Steve, before she had a chance to lose him, was to say she did.

To tell him what he wanted to hear.

And Nancy got back to it. She started shrugging off the cardigan on her shoulders. Her hands separated from Steve's jaw to shake off the knit sleeves. She turned to rise and kneel on the couch. Coming up taller than Steve at that angle. And he just followed her.

They started breathing heavier, but… then Steve's eyebrows pinched together.

No.

Steve turned his face, his lips moving away from Nancy's. She started to lower, possibly planning to go for his neck when he told her,“ Nancy… I don’t think this is right.”

She shook her head, their noses almost touching with the closeness,” Come on, it’s fine. Jonathan and I broke up, so it’s-”

“No. Nancy.” Steve grabbed her by her arms and put a little distance between them,” I- I don’t think this is what I want.”

Nancy looked at him. Confused for a moment as she sat back onto her heels. Steve loosened his hold on her arms and she wondered,” But you…?”

They've been seeing each other more recently. And Robin brought it up. Was practically trying to sell Nancy on the idea before. And he caught her when she was Vecna'd, then she dove after him into Lover's Lake and patched up his injuries in the Upside Down. And he told her about all those dreams about a big family in a Winnebago. And… They broke up because Nancy didn't love him, but they'd changed so much and she just said she did. So…

Why not?

Steve took a steadying breath before he tried to explain,“ I think I thought I wanted you. But I think I just wanted to hear you say you love me again after you said you didn’t. And that's not-”

Nancy drew back,” So, this was-”

“I’m sorry-”

“No, this was just some ploy to get back at me from when I was drunk on Halloween? Really?” And it wasn't like that, but that's how it made sense to her. “Just when a girl thinks you’ve actually changed, Steve Harrington.”

That cut deep. Steve didn't want her to think of him like that, he wasn't like that. That's not what he was trying to do or let happen. He just didn't know until he did, and then he knew so he stopped it.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Nance. I just didn’t know that I-”

“That you didn’t want me. Classy.” She roughly grabbed her cardigan and stood up from the couch.

“I’m sorry-”

But Nancy was so tired of bullshit, shallow apologies.

“No, I’m sorry. My bad. I’m the stupid one.” She shook her head while she went for the door,” Screw you, Steve. Should’ve known it’d all still be bullshit.”

[ravynfyre]

I hit my limit today, and I think that makes me an asshole, but mainly I feel relief.

I have a friend I have written about before here. This friend and I had been close since high school. some close to 20 years ago, though, this friend got very, very sick and suffered a serious brain injury. I won't go into all the gorey details except to explain that this friend really has the functional intellect of a 12 year old, mainly, and the emotional maturity of a toddler because of this injury. They will never get better than they are now. that means that I need to be the mature one in our relationship now.

this friend has always been a bit self-centered... but we all are to some extent. but he brain injury has really exacerbated this part of them. to the point that they will literally throw a nasty, public *fit* and scream on facebook about how inconvenienced they are because the person who helps them in the care home where they live is not available one day because that person is getting *cancer* treatment. They will call that person out by name, tagging them, and yelling at them for not being there to do their laundry or whatever else... because the person is dealing with *cancer*. screaming and calling people out on facebook is pretty common for my friend. any inconvenience, real or perceived, is a sudden public blast, and they can get pretty hateful and hurtful when they say things there.

i lost count of how many times *I* have been put on blast, usually for not having dropped everything and driven the 4 or so hours each way to see them in person. (when I have to use food banks to feed myself and I still can't make ends meet, but, sure, lemme just bend over and shit out that tank and a half of fuel to do that) but I have also been put on blast for explaining to my friend that they are saying hurtful things to people who love them. Or for trying to explain certain social issues of the day. the other big complaint i get put on blast for is that my "new friends" are "taking me away" from them. (again, usually because i don't travel to see them, because i don't travel at ALL anymore, but what the fuck is logic to an emotionally-a-toddler anyway?) i've talked about some of this here before.

i didn't feel like i could just... walk away, though. see after their brain injury, all of our closest friends just... ghosted. (I'd already been ghosted because i moved away, but this friend was still often in contact with the rest of the gang.) my friend had no one left but family. just me. i couldn't go too... especially since they threatened on *several* occasions that I was the "only thing keeping them alive", they they would "die without me". yes, I know that's manipulative as fuck, but my friend was an incredibly smart person who is now a child, and remembers just enough to know what they lost... including all of their friends. i didn't want to be like the "gang".

but the constant public tagging on facebook about how i was letting them down, or how i must hate them, or how i was being taken away, or how i was rude and mean for asking them to not do hateful things... it's stressful. and that didn't even touch on all the vague-posting about "their friend who is being taken away from them" or "their friend who yelled at them for being a bitch to their helper" or "their friend who must hate them". i did get a few NASTY messages from some of the people they started talking to online who knew nothing about me but what my friend would post. it was exhausting. and if i asked my friend to stop, it would only get *worse* for a week or two as they pouted and screamed, until they literally forgot and then it would cycle back to the beginning. i finally broke down and just unfollowed. it helped a lot, as now, i only knew about the complaints when i got tagged and put on blast *personally* (which was about half the time they posted about me). but the tagging complaints didn't stop. i might have peace for a few days, or a few weeks... but, eventually, i'd get put on blast again for... something.

enough times, and i started to wonder... maybe i *do* suck for not finding a way to see them? i knew i wasn't talking to them as often as i "should"... but it was exhausting, and it negatively affected my health, but did it really or am i just making things up to avoid discomfort? i mean... they have a brain injury. my friend really doesn't understand just what they are saying sometimes. i should be the mature one here, suck up my discomfort, and just ignore the digs and the pokes and the nastygrams. i mean, i'm the adult, and, realistically, i don't make enough time for any of my friends because dealing with people *hurts*, and i should just get the fuck over that and... and find a way.

but it was a lot better, not seeing their posts unless they tagged me. but they would still stalk *my* facebook, and anytime i posted any of my social justice stuff, they would comment. sometimes it was a simple, "eh? i don't understand", sometimes it was something so for out of touch that it was a glaring reminder that they probably weren't capable of actually understanding the issues at hand. sometimes, it was an argument against my post or meme or thoughts, because those were "new friends ideas" or because they didn't get what i was saying, or because they genuinely disagreed with the idea.

for a while, I would try to engage... either to explain, or to ask what they meant, or to have an actual discussion... but when my friend wouldn't even remember what they were thinking when they made the comment in the first place... there was limited success. so i just started... ignoring the comments and questions, unless it was a real simple, easy to explain, non-confrontational thing.

so yesterday, i posted a meme about how everyone has preferred pronouns. my friend commented, "Ehh?" i should have just walked away and ignored it like i usually did. but stupid me thought this would be a safe one to tackle. so i asked if what pronouns that they would prefer. they answered that they had always used a specific one, so probably stick with that. so i asked if they thought it would be fair for someone to make fun of them for preferring a pronoun that matched their genitals. they said "nope!" I literally replied: "That was what this post was about. That it isn't appropriate to make fun of someone's preferred pronouns, no matter what... because EVERYONE has preferred pronouns."

my friend started yelling at me for "calling them out". then they proceeded to post to their wall that they were SICK of ME "calling them out". but, see... i was "calling them out" because my friend literally forgot that they asked me yesterday to explain the meme i posted. and had no idea how to read the previous six comments between us that were immediately above where they started screaming at me... but that didn't become obvious until much, much later in the fight.

and today... i just couldn't handle it. so instead of ignoring it and moving on, i responded that 1) i *hadn't* done anything of the sort, but 2) i really didn't CARE anymore if they hated it when I "called them out" because they *did* do and say shitty things sometimes. so if they didn't want me to say anything, either stop doing and saying shitty things, or unfriend me.

the responses were reiterations about hating when i point out when they are being nasty, screaming about how my "new friends" are taking me away from them, how they are "losing me to my new friends" (and I don't even know who these "new friends" are supposed to even be? I guess anyone who isn't THAT specific friend?) and some other things, that i genuinely don't even remember anymore... and i can't look them up, because they blocked me.

and my primary emotion over that? relief. relief and a fervent hope that they don't *forget* that they were this angry at me and unblock me again in a week.

this was my friend. my friend who has a brain injury. and i am relieved to be done dealing with them. i'm sad this happened, because if i could have just been a better person... i should have just kept my mouth shut or something. right?

my friend is a child because they literally can't not be. i was a child today because i lost my temper. but i'm not sorry, and i won't apologize, because i still just feel... relieved.

so i guess... i just need to come to terms with being that kind of a person.

anyway... sorry. i just needed to get that all out.

[renaissanceclassics]

The Pilgrim's Progress: Part 20

Listen to: Book 2, 6th stage, at Renaissance Classics Podcast.

Now I saw in my dream that they went forward until they were come to the brow of the hill; where PIETY, bethinking herself, cried out, "Alas! I have forgot what I intended to bestow upon CHRISTIANA and her companions. I will go back and fetch it." So she ran and fetched it. While she was gone, CHRISTIANA thought she heard in a grove, a little way off on the right hand, a most curious melodious note, with words much like these:

"Through all my life Thy favour is So frankly showed to me, That in Thy house for evermore My dwelling place shall be."

And listening still, she thought she heard another answer it, saying:

"For why? the Lord our God is good; His mercy is for ever sure: His truth at all times firmly stood, And shall from age to age endure."

So CHRISTIANA asked PRUDENCE what 'twas that made those curious notes? "They are," said she, "our country birds: they sing these notes but seldom, except it be at the Spring, when the flowers appear and the sun shines warm; and then you may hear them all day long. I often," said she, "go out to hear them; we also oft times keep them tame in our house. They are very fine company for us when we are melancholy; also they make the woods, and groves, and solitary places, places desirous to be in.

"For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land;" ~ Song of Solomon 2:11, 12 ~

By this time PIETY was come again; so she said to CHRISTIANA, "Look here; I have brought thee a scheme of all those things that thou hast seen at our house, upon which thou mayest look when thou findest thyself forgetful, and call those things again to remembrance for thy edification and comfort." Now they began to go down the hill into the Valley of Humiliation. It was a steep hill, and the way was slippery; but they were very careful, so they got down pretty well. When they were down in the valley, PIETY said to CHRISTIANA, "This is the place where CHRISTIAN, your husband, met with the foul fiend APOLLYON; and where they had that dreadful fight that they had. I know you cannot but have heard hereof. But be of good courage; as long as you have here Mr. GREAT-HEART to be your guide and conductor, we hope you will fare the better." So when these two had committed the pilgrims unto the conduct of their guide, he went forward, and they went after. The Beautiful Valley of Humiliation Great-heart. Then said Mr. GREAT-HEART, "We need not to be so afraid of this valley; for here is nothing to hurt us unless we procure it to ourselves. 'Tis true, CHRISTIAN did here meet with APOLLYON, with whom he also had a sore combat; but that fray was the fruit of those slips that he got in his going down the hill. For they that get slips there must look for combats here; and hence it is that this valley has got so hard a name. For the common people, when they hear that some frightful thing has befallen such an one in such a place, are of an opinion that that place is haunted with some foul fiend or evil spirit; when, alas, it is for the fruit of their doing that such things do befall them there. "This Valley of Humiliation is of itself as fruitful a place as any the crow flies over; and I am persuaded, if we could hit upon it, we might find somewhere hereabouts, something that might give us an account why CHRISTIAN was so hardly beset in this place." Then JAMES said to his mother, "Lo, yonder stands a pillar, and it looks as if something was written thereon; let us go and see what it is." So they went, and found there written, "Let CHRISTIAN'S slips before he came hither, and the battles that he met with in this place, be a warning to those that come after." "Lo," said their guide, "did not I tell you, that there was something hereabouts that would give intimation of the reason why CHRISTIAN was so hard beset in this place?" Then turning himself to CHRISTIANA, he said, "No disparagement to CHRISTIAN more than to many others, whose hap and lot his was. For 't is easier going up than down this hill; and that can be said but of few hills in all these parts of the world. But we will leave the good man--he is at rest, he also had a brave victory over his enemy; let him grant that dwells above, that we fare no worse, when we come to be tried, than he. "But we will come again to this Valley of Humiliation. It is the best and most fruitful piece of ground in all those parts. It is fat ground; and, as you see, consists much in meadows; and if a man were to come here in the summertime, as we do now, if he knew not anything before thereof, and if he also delighted himself in the sight of his eyes, he might see that that would be delightful to him. Behold, how green this valley is! also how beautiful with lilies!

"I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys." ~ Song of Solomon 2:1 ~ "But he giveth more grace. Wherefore he saith, God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble." ~ James 4:6 ~ "Likewise, ye younger, submit yourselves unto the elder. Yea, all of you be subject one to another, and be clothed with humility: for God resisteth the proud, and giveth grace to the humble." ~ 1 Peter 5:5 ~

I have also known many labouring men that have got good estates in this Valley of Humiliation (for God resists the proud, but gives more grace to the humble); for indeed it is a very fruitful soil, and doth bring forth by handfuls. Some also have wished that the next way to their Father's house were here, that they might be troubled no more with either hills or mountains to go over; but the way is the way, and there's an end." Now as they were going along and talking, they espied a boy feeding his father's sheep. The boy was in very mean clothes, but of a very fresh and well favoured countenance; and as he sat by himself, he sang. "Hark," said Mr. GREAT-HEART, "to what the shepherd's boy saith." So they hearkened, and he said: "He that is down needs fear no fall, He that is low no pride; He that is humble ever shall Have God to be his guide. I am content with what I have, Little be it or much; And, Lord, contentment still I crave, Because thou savest such. Fulness to such a burden is That go on pilgrimage: Here little, and hereafter bliss, Is best from age to age."

"I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: every where and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." ~ Philippians 4:12, 13 ~ "Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." ~ Hebrews 13:5 ~

Then said their guide, "Do you hear him? I will dare to say that this boy lives a merrier life, and wears more of that herb called 'hearts-ease' in his bosom, than he that is clad in silk and velvet: but we will proceed in our discourse. "In this valley our Lord formerly had his country house; he loved much to be here. He loved also to walk these meadows; for he found the air was pleasant. Besides, here a man shall be free from the noise and from the hurryings of this life: all states are full of noise and confusion; only the Valley of Humiliation is that empty and solitary place. Here a man shall not be so let and hindered in his contemplation as in other places he is apt to be. This is a valley that nobody walks in but those that love a pilgrim's life. And though CHRISTIAN had the hard hap to meet here with APOLLYON, and to enter with him a brisk encounter--yet I must tell you, that in former times men have met with angels here; have found pearls here; and have in this place found the words of life.

"The LORD hath also a controversy with Judah, and will punish Jacob according to his ways; according to his doings will he recompense him. He took his brother by the heel in the womb, and by his strength he had power with God: Yea, he had power over the angel, and prevailed: he wept, and made supplication unto him: he found him in Bethel, and there he spake with us; Even the LORD God of hosts; the LORD is his memorial." ~ Hosea 12:2-5 ~

"Did I say, our Lord had here in former days his country house, and that he loved here to walk? I will add, in this place, and to the people that live and trace these grounds, he has left a yearly revenue to be faithfully paid them at certain seasons for their maintenance by the way, and for their further encouragement to go on their pilgrimage".

"Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls." ~ Matthew 11:29 ~

Sam. Now, as they went on, SAMUEL said to Mr. GREAT-HEART, "Sir, I perceive that in this valley my father and APOLLYON had their battle; but whereabout was the fight, for I perceive this valley is large?" Great-heart. Your father had that battle with APOLLYON at a place yonder, before us, in a narrow passage just beyond Forgetful Green. And indeed that place is the most dangerous place in all these parts. For if at any time the pilgrims meet with any brunt, it is when they forget what favours they have received, and how unworthy they are of them. This is the place also where others have been hard put to it. But more of the place when we are come to it; for I persuade myself that, to this day, there remains either some sign of the battle, or some monument to testify that such a battle there was fought. Mercy. Then said MERCY, "I think I am as well in this valley as I have been anywhere else in all our journey. The place, methinks, suits with my spirit. I love to be in such places where there is no rattling with coaches, nor rumbling with wheels. Methinks here one may, without much molestation, be thinking what he is; whence he came; what he has done; and to what the King has called him. Here one may think, and break at heart and melt in one's spirit, until one's eyes become like the fish pools of Heshbon. They that go rightly through this valley of Baca make it a well; the rain that God sends down from heaven upon them that are here also fills the pools. This valley is that from whence also the King will give to them vineyards, and they that go through it shall sing

"Thy neck is as a tower of ivory; thine eyes like the fishpools in Heshbon, by the gate of Bathrabbim: thy nose is as the tower of Lebanon which looketh toward Damascus." ~ Song of Solomon 7:4 ~ "Blessed is the man whose strength is in thee; in whose heart are the ways of them. Who passing through the valley of Baca make it a well; the rain also filleth the pools. They go from strength to strength, every one of them in Zion appeareth before God." ~ Psalms 84:5-7 ~ "And I will give her her vineyards from thence, and the valley of Achor for a door of hope: and she shall sing there, as in the days of her youth, and as in the day when she came up out of the land of Egypt." ~ Hosea 2:15 ~

(as CHRISTIAN did, for all he met with APOLLYON)." Great-heart. "'T is true," said their guide, "I have gone through this valley many a time, and never was better than when here. I have also been a conductor to several pilgrims; and they have confessed the same. 'To this man will I look,' saith the King, 'even to him that is poor and of a contrite spirit, and that trembles at my word.'" Now they were come to the place where the afore mentioned battle was fought. Then said the guide to CHRISTIANA, her children, and MERCY, "This is the place: and on this ground CHRISTIAN stood; and up there came APOLLYON against him. And look, did not I tell you, here is some of your husband's blood upon these stones to this day. Behold also, how here and there are yet to be seen upon the place some of the shivers of APOLLYON'S broken darts. See also how they did beat the ground with their feet, as they fought to make good their places against each other; how also with their by-blows they did split the very stones in pieces. Verily CHRISTIAN did here play the man, and showed himself as stout as could, had he been there, even HERCULES himself. When APOLLYON was beaten, he made his retreat to the next valley, that is called the Valley of the Shadow of Death--unto which we shall come anon. Lo, yonder also stands a monument on which is engraven this battle, and CHRISTIAN'S victory, to his fame throughout all ages." So because it stood just on the wayside before them, they stepped to it, and read the writing, which, word for word, was this: "Hard by here was a battle fought, Most strange, and yet most true; Christian and Apollyon sought Each other to subdue. The man so bravely played the man, He made the Fiend to fly; Of which a monument I stand, The same to testify." Through the Valley of the Shadow of Death When they had passed by this place, they came upon the borders of the Shadow of Death, and this valley was longer than the other; a place also most strangely haunted with evil things, as many are able to testify. But these women and children went the better through it, because they had daylight; and because Mr. GREAT-HEART was their conductor. When they were entered upon this valley, they thought that they heard a groaning as of dead men--a very great groaning. They thought also they did hear words of lamentation spoken, as of some in extreme torment. These things made the boys to quake; the women also looked pale and wan; but their guide bade them be of good comfort. So they went on a little farther, and they thought that they felt the ground begin to shake under them, as if some hollow place was there; they heard also a kind of a hissing as of serpents; but nothing as yet appeared. Then said the boys, "Are we not yet at the end of this doleful place?" But the guide also bade them be of good courage, and look well to their feet; "Lest haply," said he, "you be taken in some snare." Now JAMES began to be sick; but I think the cause thereof was fear; so his mother gave him some of that glass of spirits that she had given her at the INTERPRETER'S house, and three of the pills that Mr. SKILL had prepared; and the boy began to revive. Thus they went on, till they came to about the middle of the valley; and then CHRISTIANA said, "Methinks I see something yonder upon the road before us, a thing of such a shape such as I have not seen." Then said JOSEPH, "Mother, what is it?" "An ugly thing, child; an ugly thing," said she. "But, mother what is it like," said he. "'T is like I cannot tell what," said she. And now it was but a little way off. Then said she, "It is nigh." "Well, well," said Mr. GREAT-HEART, "Let them that are most afraid keep close to me." So the fiend came on, and the conductor met it; but when it was just come to him, it vanished to all their sights. Then remembered they what had been told some time ago, "Resist the devil, and he will flee from you." They went therefore on, as being a little refreshed; but they had not gone far, before MERCY, looking behind her, saw, as she thought, something most like a lion, and it came a great padding pace after; and it had a hollow voice of roaring, and at every roar that it gave, it made all the valley echo, and their hearts to ache, save the heart of him that was their guide. So it came up, and Mr. GREAT-HEART went behind, and put the pilgrims all before him. The lion also came on apace; and Mr. GREAT-HEART addressed himself to give him battle. But when the lion saw that it was determined that resistance should be made, he also drew back, and came no farther.

"Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour: Whom resist stedfast in the faith, knowing that the same afflictions are accomplished in your brethren that are in the world." ~ 1 Peter 5:8, 9 ~

Then they went on again, and their conductor did go before them, till they came at a place where was cast up a pit the whole breadth of the way; and before they could be prepared to go over that, a great mist and darkness fell upon them, so that they could not see. Then said the pilgrims, "Alas! now what shall we do?" But their guide made answer, "Fear not; stand still, and see what an end will be put to this also": so they stayed there because their path was marred. Then they also thought that they did hear more apparently the noise and rushing of the enemies; the fire also and the smoke of the pit was much easier to be discerned. Then said CHRISTIANA to MERCY, "Now I see what my poor husband went through. I have heard much of this place, but I never was here afore now; poor man! he went here all alone in the night--he had night almost quite through the way; also these fiends were busy about him, as if they would have torn him in pieces. Many have spoken of it; but none can tell what the Valley of the Shadow of Death should mean until they come in it themselves. 'The heart knows its own bitterness; and a stranger intermeddles not with its joy.' To be here is a fearful thing." Great-heart. This is like doing business in great waters, or like going down into the deep; this is like being in the heart of the sea, and like going down to the bottoms of the mountains. Now it seems as if the earth with its bars were about us for ever. "But let them that walk in darkness, and have no light, trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon their God." For my part, as I have told you already, I have gone often through this valley, and have been much harder put to it than I am now; and yet you see I am alive. I would not boast, for that I am not mine own saviour; but I trust we shall have a good deliverance. Come, let us pray for light to him that can lighten our darkness, and that can rebuke, not only these, but all the Satans in hell. So they cried and prayed, and God sent light and deliverance: for there was now no let in their way; no not there, where but now they were stopped with a pit. Yet they were not got through the valley; so they went on still; and behold, great stinks and loathsome smells, to the great annoyance of them. Then said MERCY to CHRISTIANA, "Itis not so pleasant being here as at the Gate; or at the INTERPRETER'S; or at the house where we lay last." "Oh, but," said one of the boys, "it is not so bad to go through here, as it is to abide here always; and for aught I know that one reason why we must go this way to the house prepared for us is that our home might be made the sweeter to us." "Well said, SAMUEL," quoth the guide; "thou hast now spoke like a man." "Why, if ever I get out here again," said the boy, "I think I shall prize light and good way better than ever I did in all my life." Then said the guide, "We shall be out by and bye" So on they went; and JOSEPH said, "Cannot we see to the end of this valley as yet?" Then said the guide, "Look to your feet; for you shall presently be among the snares." So they looked to their feet and went on; but they were troubled much with the snares. Now when they were come among the snares, they espied a man cast into the ditch on the left hand, with his flesh all rent and torn. Then said the guide, "That is one HEEDLESS, that was a going this way; he has lain there a great while. There was one TAKEHEED with him when he was taken and slain; but he escaped their hands. You cannot imagine how many are killed here about; and yet men are so foolishly venturous, as to set out lightly on pilgrimage, and to come without a guide. Poor CHRISTIAN! it was a wonder that he here escaped; but he was beloved of his God; also he had a good heart of his own, or else he could never have done it." Now they drew towards the end of the way; and just there, where CHRISTIAN had seen the cave when he went by, out thence came forth MAUL, a giant. This MAUL did use to spoil young pilgrims with sophistry; and he called GREAT-HEART by his name, and said unto him, "How many times have you been forbidden to do these things?" Then said Mr. GREAT-HEART, "What things?" "What things?" quoth the giant, "you know what things; but I will put an end to your trade." "But pray," said Mr. GREAT-HEART, "before we fall to it, let us understand wherefore we must fight" (now the women and children stood trembling, and knew not what to do). Quoth the giant, "You rob the country, and rob it with the worst of thefts." "These are but generals," said Mr. GREAT-HEART; "come to particulars, man." Then said the giant, "Thou practisest the craft of a kidnapper; thou gatherest up women and children, and carriest them into a strange country, to the weakening of my master's kingdom." But now GREAT-HEART replied, "I am a servant of the God of heaven; my business is to persuade sinners to repentance; I am commanded to do my endeavour to turn men, women and children from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God; and if this be indeed the ground of thy quarrel, let us fall to it as soon as thou wilt." Then the giant came up; and Mr. GREAT-HEART went to meet him. And as he went, he drew his sword; but the giant had a club. So without more ado they fell to it; and at the first blow, the giant stroke Mr. GREAT-HEART down upon one of his knees: with that, the women and children cried out. So Mr. GREAT-HEART, recovering himself, laid about him in full lusty manner, and gave the giant a wound in his arm; thus he fought for the space of an hour, to that height of heat, that the breath came out of the giant's nostrils as the heat doth out of a boiling cauldron. Then they sat down to rest them, but Mr. GREAT-HEART betook him to prayer; also the women and children did nothing but sigh and cry all the time that the battle did last. When they had rested them, and taken breath, they both fell to it again; and Mr. GREAT-HEART with a full blow, fetched the giant down to the ground. "Nay, hold, and let me recover," quoth he. So Mr. GREAT-HEART fairly let him get up, so to it they went again: and the giant missed but little of all-to-breaking Mr. GREAT-HEART'S skill with his club. Mr. GREAT-HEART seeing that, runs to him in the full heat of his spirit, and pierces him under the fifth rib; with that the giant began to faint, and could hold up his club no longer. Then Mr. GREAT-HEART seconded his blow, and smote the head of the giant from his shoulders. Then the women and children rejoiced; and Mr. GREAT-HEART also praised God for the deliverance he had wrought. When this was done, they amongst them erected a pillar, and fastened the giant's head thereon; and wrote underneath in letters that passengers might read:

"He that did wear this head was one That pilgrims did misuse; He stopt their way, he spared none, But did them all abuse: Until that I, GREAT-HEART arose, The pilgrim's guide to be; Until that I did him oppose, That was their enemy."

[antigonewinchester]

7 eps through season 12 and it continues to be strangely fascinating. I have criticisms for sure, but I’m holding off on them more specifically until at least the end of season, if only to put them in the full context and sort them out for myself.

overall, the show feels much more confident in itself than it has been for a while, and this confidence feels deeply connected to the story focusing more on Sam again, esp after the Carver era’s focus on Dean. a return back to the roots, w/ Sam as the more prominent character, and Dean back in a more supportive role. it’s the Luke vs. Han idea, w/ Sam as the “sensitive, smart protag” and Dean as the “funny bad-boy w/ a heart of gold.”

also the return back to the “Dean as a hunter, Sam as questioning it” framing. whenever the show hits a reset point, it always seems to pick up this dynamic again. take S8 and how much it echoed S1, in Sam out of hunting w/ a girlfriend and Dean returning back to him. it’s not as blatant in season 12, but Sam and Dean’s dynamic does remind me of their original attitudes, with Sam framed as questioning / wondering about hunting while Dean is seen as a hunter straight up. look at Sam and Dean’s convo in 12x06, right? (“SAM: Did you know people tell stories about us? / DEAN: Yeah. Apparently we’re a little bit legendary. / SAM: Yeah, but, I mean, so was Asa. Then a hunt went bad, and he ended up hanging from a tree, alone in the woods. / DEAN: He died on the job. No better way to go. / SAM: You really believe that? / DEAN: Yeah. What, you don’t? I mean, come on, Sam, it's not like we're in the “live till you're 90, die in your sleep” business. This? [DEAN points at ASA’S hunting wall] This only ends one way. / SAM: We should get back.) I suppose I’m zero-ing in on this framing in part because we know how the show, and Sam and Dean’s stories, ends now, and amongst so much of the fandom “it didn’t make sense!” opinions, I’m trying to figure out if the ending was actually foreshadowed and people just didn’t pick up on it, either unintentionally or deliberately.

on the other hand, in spite of its “reset” qualities, season 12 is also very self-aware in itself as the twelfth season of Supernatural. lots of dialogue call backs, characters talking about “who they are” in the whole context of the story, Mary as a returning character with so much history for the show both in-universe and on a meta level, Lucifer having his return in the body of an aging, has-been rock star, and his short monologue in 12x07 (LUCIFER: ...[God] needed my help, and He'd say anything to get it. His words, your words, they mean nothing. Don't you get it? This is all meaningless. Heaven. Hell. This world. If it ever meant anything that moment is past. Nothing down here but a bunch of hopeless distraction addicts, so filled with emptiness, so desperate to fill up the void... They don't mind being served another stale rerun of a rerun of a rerun. You know what my plan is? I don't have one. I'm just gonna keep on smashing Daddy's already broken toys, and make you watch.). the writers know the story could’ve ended much earlier but it’s still chugging along -- which is a weird spot to be in, admittedly. where else did the show have to go except to turn self-referential, look back at itself, go more meta? from a writing pov, I get the impulse, and obviously it gets increasingly meta up until the very end. while S8 was a reset, I do think the writers were trying to reckon w/ the whole show thru Carver’s era, even if they struggled w/ it. similarly, I get the feeling that S12 and beyond will try to reckon w/ the whole of the show, given how self-referential and meta it’s already gotten. (whether it does a good job w/ the meta aspects or not will be a different story.)