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everydayyoulovemeless · 1 year

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hiya, how are you doing?

I recently read one of your posts containing yandere NV HCs of certain characters, and it gave me an idea for a request if you're feeling up to it.

This'll be a Fallout 4 yandere headcannon, if that's alright with you. The characters would be:

Deacon, Nick and Hanock, or if you're wanting to, replace any character with Danse, Macready or Cait. I feel like you'd obliterate this, since I live off your writing, lol.

nonetheless, have a good one!

Yandere Deacon, Nick, and Hancock HCs

➼ Word Count » 1.8k ➼ Warnings » Stalking, Threats, Kidnapping, Possessiveness, Drugging, and General Yandere Themes. ➼ Genre » Yandere, Romantic ➼ A/N » Ah! You're so sweet Nonnie! I hope this was what you were looking for <33

Deacon

Deacon knows everything about you. He's constantly following you around and 'gathering intel' as he likes to call it. He'll end up knowing everything there is to know before the two of you even meet.

He justifies everything he does by telling himself that 'he has a job to do and he needs to do it well', even if he seems to have an entire shrine of you back at base.

He gets so scared once you both officially meet because it means that he doesn't have to stalk you for his job anymore. Now he has no reason to find out all these little things about your life, and it scares him that he doesn't have that cover to hide his true intentions behind anymore.

He's very aware at how unhealthy his feelings toward you are and distances himself as much as possible before disappearing from your life entirely.

Eventually, he won't be able to help it and will find a way to weasel back into your life once again, and everything will seem normal from there. You'll hardly realize the type of person Deacon actually is because of how easy it is for him to lie to you.

A lot of the times when he doesn't like someone you hang out with, he'll stalk them for a bit before killing them in a way he sees fit. Usually, it's just sniping, but he can get ugly if provoked. (he was a part of the DP deathclaws at one point)

You'll be none the wiser to the truth because of how easily he can spin it to make him look better. Everything will seem fine and peachy while on the flip side, Deacon's breaking the majority of his morals just to keep his state of mind at bay.

He tries his best to appear laid back and friendly but on the inside he’s screaming, fighting himself not to just grab you or rough up some sideman. He does so much to keep his composure and show that nothing bothers him that it ends up taking a toll on his health.

Even if you dismiss him back to a settlement, he’ll still be 10 steps behind you. He’s come this far and he’s not losing you. He’ll protect you to his last breath.

Deacon might even start sending threatening messages anonymously through caravans just to keep you on edge. He wants you to come running into his arms, hiding away in the Railroad HQ, afraid of your possible assassination while you’re out and about. He can manipulate you so much easier if you're scared.

"Yeahhh, you're 'friend' said that they didn't wanna stick around. Who needed them though, right?"

He might not be one for physical affection, but he ends up hugging you a whole lot as a yandere. They're far from welcoming too due to how tight they are. Bros got an iron grip on you.

Deacon is really protective of you. He doesn’t really care who he’s killing or what he’s doing, if he perceives it as a threat to your relationship, he’s gonna get rid of it. The two of you are partners now, right? You only ever really need him.

He and you will be best friends until he one day decides that he's going to confess to you, and if you even seem slightly against the idea he'll have no issue kidnapping you and keeping you locked away.

He’ll have you trust everything he says, every little lie will go right over your head until it’s too late. All of sudden a hand will reach out from an alley and drag you away from the rest of the Commonwealth, stashed away for Deacon's own peace of mind. Why wouldn’t you want to stay with him, though? He was with you from the start. He knows exactly what he needs to do for you in any situation. He's the one you really want—the one you really need, whether you realize it or not.

Nick

Has a case on you constantly open. Any slight change in behavior or new acquaintance is documented down in his files.

He's on a constant watch for any variable that might compromise your safety or well-being, and if he does find something he deems a threat, he'll take care of it promptly. Even if it's not an act you might've liked.

If he ever finds that you've been gone for longer than usual, he'll track you down and take you to the agency where he won't let you out of his sight for the next couple of days.

There's nothing in the world that would make him want to ever hurt you and makes a constant effort in ensuring that he doesn't accidentally leave a scratch from his busted metal hands.

He's WAYY too overprotective, and he's aware of it, but he convinces himself that since it's for noble-ish reasons, then he's good. I mean, protecting people is his entire job, why would him wanting to defend you be viewed as unhealthy? He desperately tries to convince himself that he's completely in the right, even when that nagging feeling doesn't leave.

He'll try to convince you to live at the agency with him and Ellie. He might even manipulate Ellie into unknowingly helping him out in entrapping you. Having a second-friendly face might just do the trick.

If you happen to own a terminal then bro Is gonna hack it and use any information or logs to his advantage.

Nick has a tendency to just kinda reach out and grab your chin. He does it for multiple reasons: inspecting you for cuts, feeling your skin against him, or simply just making you look at him. He doesn't even realize how often he does it.

Being a detective for so long has made him incredible at reading people, and he especially likes to read you. Every slight jerk or reaction tells him everything he needs to know and he plays off of it so well.

He’s a little insecure due to him not being human. He knows he’s not your ideal type, and he wouldn’t make you be in a relationship with him, as long as you listen and let him protect you then he’s happy. (although, that wouldn't stop him from occasionally slaughtering others out of jealousy)

He’s always there to comfort your or aid in whatever quest you doing to the point that you become emotionally dependent on him.

Nick's probably the most understanding and reasonable yanderes on this list. He never wants you to be scared or alone like he was and his goal will mainly be to keep you happy, no matter what that would take.

It gets to the point where he doesn't want you going to anyone else when you're in distress and would find himself getting a little jealous if you did. He'll end up taking them out if it gets bad enough. You don't really need them that badly anyway, he knows so much more about you and can help you so much better.

"Believe me, doll, they aren't the person you think they are."

Hancock

He's got an eye for you the second you walk into Goodneighbor. He's always going to be lurking around, popping out of corners, and throwing his arm around your shoulders before butting into whatever conversation you were already having.

He has a habit of lacing the things you intake (stimpaks, water, food, etc.) with drugs so that he can take you up to the Old State House to 'take care of you'. It usually ends up being him clinging to you and begging you to stay because you're not in the right headspace, even when you're fully sober.

He'll start telling the people around town that he and you are a thing. Soon enough the guards are all keeping an eye out for you and will stop anyone who tries to hit on you.

He likes it better when you're reliant on him and will have people stage these incidents nearby to make you fearful of going out alone or at the very least more cautious so that he could swoop in and protect you more often

There were a few people who spoke out against what he seemed to be trying to do but they all kept disappearing and, eventually, people stopped questioning it.

Hancock is always going to be thinking about you. It comes to a point where even Farenheit is concerned about whether his crush is healthy or not and might even try to put an end to it as well. That being said, he wants you to be thinking about him just as much and would start slaughtering raiders in front of you so that you never forget him. It'll mostly just end up freaking you out because of how brutal it usually is, but that doesn't stop him.

His obsession gets worse and worse over time until it eventually drives him to do more drastic things like kidnapping you.

He'll manage to convince you that some raider gang has a hit out for you and he just wants to make sure you stay safe till it all boils over. Fahrenheit feels so bad for you as she's not sure what she should do. She just watches you tremble in the corner, knowing it's from Hancock injecting you with Med-X and instilling a false sense of danger into you.

You won't be completely stuck up in the Old State House, though, whenever he has to go somewhere or do something, he'll sometimes take you along. Only if you've been good for him. He likes to think of these times as dates because he tries to get to know you more and ask questions about your past and all that. He finds you really interesting and loves hearing you talk.

He'd love to spoil you with whatever you wanted. It could be something only found on the West coast and he'd still make the journey for you. It's not even funny how lovesick he is.

He gets kinda paranoid that you'd run away from him, so some nights he'll just tie you up, pull you into his lap, and shush your panicked sobs.

The good thing about Hancock is that he's not pushy when it comes to sex. He might flirt a lot and be kinda touchy, but he'd never dreamt of crossing any lines until you said you were ready. He'd wait till the end of time if he had to.

He'll try his best to keep you sheltered and away from the horrors happening outside. He wants to keep you as pure and ignorant as he possibly can. He thinks it's better that way.

As harsh as his actions can appear, he's actually really soft towards you. His touches are gentle, his voice is quiet, and his eyes are always full of adoration.

Friendly guy, just be careful what you mention to him. He has a habit of going batshit on people he deems wrong for you.

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gerrystamour · 1 year

Text

i could be honest, i could be human [Chapters 9 & 10]

Rated E | Steddie

[ FIRST PART ] [ PREVIOUS PART ] [ NEXT PART ]

When a smirk tugged at the corners of Eddie’s mouth as he crouched to examine the bat bites closer, Steve chuckled lightly. “What, Munson?” he asked, trying not to think too much about the position Eddie was almost in. “Damn, Harrington,” Eddie said, his tone teasing as he looked up at him through his lashes. “Who hurt you?”

Chapter Nine: March 1986

It took Robin until the spring of the following year for the stars to align in a way for her to figure Steve’s crush out, and by then he thought he’d largely gotten over it.

Between graduating and working full-time, he hadnʼt actually seen Eddie since that night over the summer. The only times he would was while he was dropping Robin off at school and picking her up, and the other man was usually too busy with his friends to notice him. Part of him used to wish Eddie would notice him, look over and see his Beemer and wave, maybe even walk over.

But he never did, and they stopped running into each other in public, so Steve put his thoughts and energy elsewhere. No use pining over someone he wasn’t even brave enough to be friends with. Things with his dad were more tense than they had ever been, and Steve didn’t want any of his rage directed at Eddie if he could help it.

After the fight over the summer, Robin instated a new rule and enforced it ruthlessly: Steve was never to go back to his house alone. It was tough to keep the reason for the rule a complete secret, so eventually Steve sat down and talked about it to Nancy. It had been a rough conversation, one that left them both raw and feeling guilty for things all over again. But once it was over with, Steve had another ally in his corner, another person who saw him and loved him all the same.

When his parents were in town, Steve was either at Robin’s house or he would crash in the spare room at Dustin’s. Over the years, Claudia had grown increasingly fond of Steve and he had dinner with them multiple times a week, especially after he “saved” Dustin in the mall fire. It wasn’t long until Claudia gave Steve a spare key and told him to come and go as he pleased, that her home was his.

The last time Steve went to the house in Loch Nora was to pick up the rest of his clothes and the handful of keepsakes he actually cared about. His next stop was the post office to have his mail forwarded to Robin’s address.

Steve knew he wasn’t free yet, that he would have to actually deal with his parents eventually, and he knew his every action was likely still reported back to them by some nosy gossip, but he felt free.

It wasnʼt a surprise when Steve started seeing the Freshmen following Eddie around eventually. He was even less surprised when Dustin started talking about him constantly. Eddie was exactly the type of person Dustin would latch onto and become obsessed with.

It was… annoying, if Steve was honest.

For one, Steve felt an intense jealousy when he listened to Dustin talk about Eddie; over the fact that Dustin could hang out with Eddie so often or because Dustin seemed to like him more than Steve, Steve couldn’t tell. Secondly, there really was a limit to how many times someone could tell the same story about the same person before it got old.

So yeah, Steve was over Eddie. He even took several very successful solo trips to a bar in Indianapolis and felt like he really figured himself out. It felt… nice to be around a whole new group of people and to be wanted for simply being himself. No one there knew him as King Steve, or that he came from money. No one knew his father and avoided him. Steve was just some small-town pretty-boy and he liked the anonymity in that.

While he wouldn’t call himself experienced, it was enough that Steve knew what he enjoyed when he slept with other men. He liked to think he didn’t have a type either when it came to men either, just like he didn’t think he had a type of woman. Just because the men he ended up going home with had longer hair, calloused fingertips, and a preference for wearing leather and denim didn’t mean anything. They always just happened to be the men brave enough to approach him.

One of the bartenders told him it had to do with his whole Good Boy get-up, and she’d laughed when Steve informed her that he was wearing his normal clothes. That was an enlightening night, as she had taken him home after the bar closed and he learned just what was possible even when sleeping with a woman.

It was through his experimentation and flirting at the bar that Steve realized that Eddie was possibly actually interested in him at some point, or at the very least attracted to him. There was something about the way the men he slept with would touch and look at him, before they were kissing or falling into a bed together that brought back little moments with Eddie. It was a bittersweet thing to realize, knowing he couldn’t do anything about it.

Eddie Munson would always be Steve’s wakeup call, and he would always be grateful for that, but Steve learned his way through a whole new aspect of his sexuality on his own.

And again, he felt that he was well and truly over his crush.

So in March, when Steve recognized the trailer behind a reporter describing a gruesome murder that took place and the kids burst through the front doors of Family Video demanding use of their phones to find Eddie, he didn’t have to try that hard to be nonchalant about the whole situation. Nevermind how deeply invested he was in the search, even as he tried to ignore them and instead do his job.

It wasn’t until Eddie had pinned him to a wall with a broken bottle against his throat that Steve realized his crush was very much alive and thriving. He knew it was inappropriate, especially given that Eddie had clearly been crying and looked close to doing just that again. But Steve had still blushed a bit, glanced at Eddie’s mouth, and then blushed even more.

Quickly regaining his composure, Steve looked over Eddie’s shoulder at Robin to plead for her help in calming Eddie down, and to his dismay there was a thoughtful expression on her face. It was just a second of her glancing between them, and then it was replaced with wide-eyed understanding. Thankfully she exercised some rare tact and focused on helping Dustin talk Eddie down, but she gave Steve a look that clearly said, ‘You will not hear the end of this for the rest of your life.’

As they left the boathouse after debriefing Eddie on the horrors that lived under Hawkins, Robin grabbed Steve’s wrist and pulled him to a stop. Max and Dustin continued without them, bickering about their next move.

“We’re going to talk about that,” she said firmly, but there was a smirk threatening to overtake her mouth.

“Don’t you think we have bigger problems, Buckley?” Steve groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Hell-ooo! Lovebirds! We’re kind of in a hurry!” Dustin yelled, practically shrieked from the car.

“Henderson, can you lower the volume?” Steve hissed, gesturing around them at the darkness before turning to look back at Robin. “See? Bigger. Problems.”

“Of course,” she agreed before she started walking again, quietly adding, “we can’t have your boyfriend framed for murder by an evil wizard from a shadow dimension underneath Hawkins, right?”

Steve let out a long-suffering moan, trudging along behind her. “Ugh, can you shut up?”

❖

Steve sat in the back of the RV, struggling with removing the scraps of Nancy’s sweater from his injuries. They were looking pretty bad after several hours of not cleaning them out properly. That wasn’t even mentioning the injuries on his back that largely went unattended. Plus his throat hurt from being strangled, and the taste of the Demo-bat’s blood wouldn’t leave his mouth, no matter how much he brushed his teeth or tried to wash it out.

Altogether, Steve was not having a great time. Why was he always the one who got beat up every time the world ended?

He knew the answer to that before he even finished asking himself the question. Maybe if he stopped throwing himself between malevolent beings and his loved ones, he would come out of these situations looking a lot less like he had been processed through a meat grinder. However, Steve knew that the only way he would ever stop is if it actually finally killed him one day.

A noise caught Steve’s attention, and when he looked up he saw Eddie sitting in one of the front seats. They were still pulled over at the field, preparing for battle, and Steve hadn’t realized Eddie had gone inside at all. When their eyes met, there was something about Eddie’s gaze that seemed… weird, but he schooled his expression before Steve could figure it out.

“You need help?” Eddie offered, gesturing at Steve’s pathetic attempts at first-aid.

Steve knew it was probably a bad idea to let Eddie put his hands on him. He knew it wouldn’t help his sad, wishful thinking at all.

“I can’t get to all of the injuries,” Steve admitted, and he put down the gauze as Eddie got up and stepped closer.

Neither of them said anything at first as Eddie took stock of the injuries around Steve’s middle. When a smirk tugged at the corners of Eddie’s mouth as he crouched to examine the bat bites closer, Steve chuckled lightly.

“What, Munson?” he asked, trying not to think too much about the position Eddie was almost in.

“Damn, Harrington,” Eddie said, his tone teasing as he looked up at him through his lashes. “Who hurt you?”

Steve barked out a laugh, even as a spike of heat lanced through his gut, and rolled his eyes. “I’m still trying to figure out the cover-story for these bad boys,” he joked, gesturing vaguely down at the angry wounds and keeping his thoughts as clean as possible. “Ask me again after the government finally shows the fuck up with the confidentiality paperwork.”

Eddie chuckled lightly even as his frown deepened, and he got to work. “Was… were all the other times cover-stories, too?” he asked after a few minutes.

“What?” Steve asked, wincing as Eddie worked.

“The other times you were injured. I’m just—I’m thinking about the timeline you guys gave me and now I’m just—did you actually get beat up by Jonathan Byers?” he finally asked outright, and Steve laughed.

“Yes, I actually got beat up by Jonathan Byers,” he confirmed, sighing. “He accepted my apology after I saved him from the Demogorgon, though.”

“Ah, okay. Him forgiving you makes a lot more sense with that context,” Eddie murmured teasingly, and Steve gasped in mock-outrage.

“Hey man, my apology was very sincere. I’m sure that would’ve done the trick, too,” Steve insisted petulantly, and as he’d hoped, Eddie smiled.

“Hey, y’know, I actually ran away? The first time the Demogorgon came?” Steve admitted and Eddie snorted.

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed and Steve shook his head with a grin.

“Seriously, I made it through the first attack, had a freak-out, and when it came back…” he trailed off at the memory, shuddering a bit as the vague memory of his gut wrenching fear came back. “Nancy told me to leave— I mean, she pulled a gun on me—”

“She what?” Eddie exclaimed, looking up at Steve with his wide brown eyes that always made the butterflies in Steve’s stomach dance.

“I was freaking out pretty bad,” Steve offered as an explanation, shrugging when Eddie’s brow pinched together skeptically. With an embarrassed roll of his eyes, Steve continued, “then I ran. Made it to my car and everything. Almost got in and drove away, too.”

“What stopped you?” Eddie asked quietly, blinking up at him.

“I, uh, dropped my keys. When I got to my car, I mean, and I donʼt know, stopping like that gave my brain enough time to think,” Steve explained, grimacing as he thought back to that moment when he stood in Jonathan’s driveway and watched the lights start flickering. “I realized I was just gonna go home? And Nance and Jonathan were going to fight this… fucking demon? And they might die?”

“You were what, seventeen?” Eddie asked, standing up to meet Steve’s eyes properly. “It would’ve been normal to fucking run, Steve.”

“Almost seventeen, yeah,” Steve replied flippantly before he looked at Eddie pointedly. “Still. I couldn’t just leave them. Just like you couldn’t sit tight and hide. Or stay in the boat.”

Silence lapsed between them again as Eddie mulled that over, his cheeks turning a bit pink under Steve’s attention. Clearing his throat finally, Eddie glanced away.

“And the next year, did Billy actually try to kill you?” he asked after a bit, and Steve sighed.

“Yeup. I basically told you the whole story. Max was afraid he’d kill her, and he was actually going to kill Lucas,” he answered as if it was not a big deal, and to him it wasn’t. It all felt like the bare minimum, even in retrospect. “I was with the kids because Hopper was taking Eleven, y’know, the—”

“The girl with the psychic powers, yes,” Eddie interjected with a chuckle. “You’ve mentioned her.”

“Yeah, he was taking her to close the portal. Ms. Byers was dealing with Will, who was possessed by the Mindflayer.”

“Jesus,” Eddie hissed as he moved around Steve to clean up the wounds on his back. There was a long pause before Eddie asked, “And the mall fire?”

Steve tensed up at that, the entire Starcourt mess being the memory he wished would go away the most.

“Russians,” Steve said after a bit before elaborating, “My injuries, I mean. Russians. They tortured me and Robin, almost killed us. Dustin and Erica saved us. The mall fire was us fighting a giant flesh monster with fireworks.”

“Holy fuck,” Eddie muttered, and Steve startled when the other man rested his forehead on the back of Steve’s shoulder. “Sorry, man, that’s just a lot to take in,” he said, clearing his throat and lifting his head again.

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Steve laughed, shrugging, his skin still tingling where Eddie had rested against him. Clearing his throat, he gestured at the denim vest on the table. “I think your vest is toast, I’m really sorry.”

“Nah, man, don’t be sorry,” Eddie said softly, and suddenly he was resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder and grinning sidelong at him. “It demands payment in blood, and only that of idiot pretty-boy jocks will appease it after the first bloodletting, so really, you’re doing me a favour.”

Steve stared at Eddie out of the corner of his eye in confusion, a deep blush on his face at how close they were to each other, and then the memories finally came to him and he snorted unattractively. “Shit, sorry, I kinda forgot this isn’t the first time I bled on it,” Steve admitted while he laughed, and Eddie joined him quietly.

“I remember that day vividly, Harrington,” Eddie admitted as he backed away to get back to cleaning and dressing Steve’s injuries. “I think about it a lot.”

“Same, I mean thinking about it. A lot of details are really fuzzy, and there’s kind of… gaps in the memories,” Steve confessed quietly. “There’s a lot that I don’t remember from the aftermath, y’know? Maybe this time it’ll be different because so far, no concussion.”

“Okay, but you were strangled and oxygen deprivation—”

“Let me have this win, Munson,” Steve whined with a grin on his face, and Eddie laughed.

“I meant what I said down there, in the Upside-Down,” Eddie said suddenly after a short silence. “That you’re a good guy, even if that pissed me off at first. More than that, you’re amazing Steve. You’re funny, you’re actually kind of a nerd, and you’re a hero. I’m… really glad I got to know you, even if the world is ending tonight.”

Steve had been thinking about their conversation down there since it happened, and it had been gnawing at him the whole time. Having Eddie pushing him back toward Nancy had been frustrating at the time, nauseating even.

Of course, Steve knew why people always jumped to that conclusion.

She was his first love, his first real long term relationship and Steve hadnʼt been successful in the dating world since. Even his trips out to Indy werenʼt yielding results outside of casual flings and learning more about himself. Even Robin asked him one night when they were a little bit tipsy if he was still in love with Nancy. There was a part of Steve that questioned himself after a particularly long series of swings and misses.

Nancy had been, at one point, his everything. Steve had seen a future with her that was within reach, something he might have been able to make even his dad at least tolerant of, and then he lost her. She was a bright spot, a candle in his lonely, dark world and when Steve fucked it up, he was left stumbling alone.

If Nancy was a candle, though, Eddie was the goddamn sun.

Eddie brought a warmth and brightness to every space he entered, and Steve desperately wanted to bask in it for the rest of his life if he could. Steve wanted Eddie, and he wanted to actually be with him. His need for the other man went so deep, it had become painful to keep it buried inside himself.

Steve didn’t want to— no, couldnʼt go back to the Upside Down with Eddie thinking he wanted anyone else, especially his ex-girlfriend. He wouldnʼt march dutifully toward what might be their deaths without telling Eddie.

Even if Eddie didn’t feel the same way, or he was never attracted to him at all, Steve had to let him know.

“You got something wrong down there, though,” Steve started.

“If you even try to downplay how fucking brave and selfless you are, Harrington, I’m—”

“I don’t want to be with Nancy anymore,” Steve said, turning to face Eddie properly. “And yeah, Nancy loves me, but not like that. We’ve been through too much together to not love each other. She jumped into the water because she knows I would’ve done the same. Any of us in this group would.”

Eddie stared down at Steve, the frown on his face deepening a bit. “Okay?” he said after a minute.

Steve sighed heavily, trying to quiet the butterflies in his gut, and then reached out to cup his hand around Eddie’s jaw. Eddie froze, wide-eyed, and Steve waited for Eddie to do something before continuing. After a few moments of Eddie’s huge brown eyes searching his face, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. When Eddie relaxed and tipped his head minutely into his hand, Steve let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and stepped a bit closer to Eddie.

With another deep breath, Steve hooked a finger into one of Eddie’s belt loops and tugged on it a bit. When he looked up through his lashes at Eddie’s face, the other man didn’t look confused anymore; he looked hungry and Steve let himself bask in it for a second.

There was a small part of Steve that couldn’t believe his luck, but he wasn’t going to question it either. He wanted Eddie so much, and it appeared that Eddie was into him as well.

Steve was allowed to have this.

Breathing in sharply, Steve tipped his mouth up, close enough that he could feel Eddie’ breath on his lips, and started to say, “I’m saying all this right now because—”

The door to the RV banged open and the kids piled in, laughing and goofing off despite the situation. Steve would have been happy to hear it if they had waited maybe ten more minutes.

Eddie apparently had the same thought. “Jesus H. Christ, your timing!” he lamented, having already jumped out of Steve’s space, leaving Steve standing there with his hands awkwardly in the air for a second. “Can you guys just go back outside real quick, for five more minutes? Stevie’s still not decent.”

“We’ve all seen Steve with his shirt off,” Lucas said, his tone disgusted as he looked Steve over.

“And we don’t have five more minutes. Time to put your shirt on, Steve,” Dustin commanded, and Steve sighed as he grabbed the shirt he picked up at War Zone and put it on.

When Steve turned around, Robin was looking at him wide-eyed, as if she knew exactly what was about to happen when they all stormed in. Steve shrugged and put the leather jacket he bought back on and then, looking over his shoulder at Eddie again, he grabbed the battle vest and shrugged it on over top. Glancing down at himself, he definitely saw the appeal of wearing an outfit like that.

When he met Eddie’s eyes again, there was a moment where it looked like he was about to do something about Steve, their audience be damned, and Steve just raised an eyebrow.

The world was about to end, who cared anymore?

“Steve, come on, we’re losing daylight,” Nancy said urgently, an eyebrow raised high as she looked back and forth between him and Eddie. She was in the middle of setting down the weapons and organizing them. “What are you even doing?”

Steve turned away from Eddie fully and headed to the front of the RV, smirking slightly to himself as he heard Eddie cursing up a storm behind him.

Robin followed Steve to the front seat and smiled politely when she shoved past Nancy to take the passenger seat. “I’m invoking Best Friend Shotgun Privileges,” she said when Nancy looked like she was about to argue with her.

At that, Nancy just raised her eyebrows, glanced between the two of them then threw her hands up in surrender before wandering to the back of the RV to sit next to Eddie.

“Is Steve being weird right now?” Steve heard Nancy ask Eddie.

“Oh, Nance, you have no idea,” Eddie replied, and when Steve glanced back, Eddie was grinning and doing that thing where he hid his mouth with some of his hair while he looked out the window next to him.

Steve smirked a bit and got to hot wiring the RV again like Eddie showed him.

Once they were on the road again and the noise of the RV blocked any conversation from the front reaching the back, Robin leaned over and rested her chin on Steve’s outstretched arm as he drove.

“Please tell me we didn��t interrupt what I think we just interrupted,” she begged softly and Steve laughed.

“You want me to lie to you, Robs?” he asked, raising an eyebrow down at her and she groaned.

“I am so sorry,” she said.

“It’s fine, you didn’t know,” Steve reassured her, lifting his other hand to pat her head. “Honestly, I didn’t know I was going to say anything until right before I started to say it.”

“You were just going to blab?” Robin asked, lifting her head with a skeptical eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, actually. I figured there’s a very high chance at least one of us might not make it out of this mess, so…” he trailed off, shrugging one shoulder.

“Well, now you’ll both just have to survive, won’t you?” Robin said, and while her tone was teasing, there was a desperate edge to it.

“Yeah, Robs, we will,” Steve said, smiling over at her before smirking again. “I think I got my point across anyway.”

“Oh, yeah? You have telepathy now, Steve?” Robin said sarcastically and Steve snorted.

“It’s called body language, Robs,” Steve replied, looking sidelong at her while she made a face up at him. “Is he still blushing?”

Robin looked back and snorted. “Oh yeah, and he’s gotten not only Nancy’s attention, but Dustin’s as well,” she explained and Steve just smiled broadly.

“Still got it,” he teased, winking over at Robin.

She laughed out loud and began digging around the glove box until she found a clean napkin and a pen that worked. Then she spent the next little while scribbling while angling her body so Steve couldn’t see what she was doing. Finally, out of the corner of his eye he could see her cap the pen and then fold the napkin in a way that it hid what she wrote, like the notes that girls used to pass around class.

Leaning over, she slid the folded napkin in the pocket of his leather jacket. “Promise you won’t look at that until this is over and we’re all alive, okay?”

“I promise, Robs,” Steve said, smiling gently at her when she rested her chin on his arm again.

They were going to make it, Steve decided, because he had a boy to get and a note to read.

Chapter Ten: B-Side

The battle vest was ruined, Steve knew it was.

Just the blood from his own poorly tended wounds would have been enough to call it. But then he had to haul Eddie out…

Inhaling sharply through his nose, Steve shook his head and submerged the vest in the bathtub again for another soak. He had already tried the steps he knew for removing blood from denim, but that was drops from a nosebleed, or a skinned elbow.

This was from someone bleeding to death. This was from the boy he cared about so deeply it hurt bleeding out.

Another sharp inhale, another violent shake of his head, a slow breath out.

The water in the tub wasn’t even changing colour anymore, at least not by any amount that mattered. Steve would wring it out one more time and figure something out if it didn’t work. He’d let it soak for the time being, and maybe this was the time that the stain would just lift right out. It just needed patience and perseverance.

Steve’s fingers were almost painfully wrinkled with how long he had been working at his lost cause. He knew he didn’t have to hold the vest under the water, but there was something grounding about the pain of the cold water when Steve would submerge his hands for just a bit too long. Whenever he’d get too far inside his head, he would lean over the edge of the tub and hold the battle vest under the water until he couldn’t take it anymore.

Distantly, he heard the egg timer go off behind him and inhaled sharply before he lifted the vest out of the tub.

The water in the tub was practically clear.

Steve wrung the vest out as much as his numb fingers could manage, and the water in the tub stayed clear. Steve sucked in a breath through his nose, and it stuck in his chest, his throat filling with glass as he tried blotting the vest with a rag, but nothing was happening.

The battle vest was ruined. Steve couldn’t fix it, just like he couldn’t protect Eddie and Dustin, and he couldn’t stop Vecna before Eddie decided to be a hero, even after he promised.

There was a part of Steve that recognized he was barely keeping himself from having a breakdown on the bathroom floor of Claudia Henderson’s master bathroom. He had to get up and deal with the vest, to do something with it that wasn’t another soak-wring-blot cycle. He had to get off the floor and do something.

Distantly, he heard a vehicle out front and told himself that it was time to move. Steve couldn’t stay on the floor like that, it would upset Dustin. Claudia would be mad that he was in here; her hospitality would only go so far, he was sure, and this was her private space.

Steve had to get up.

The weight of everything—Max almost dying, Eddie bleeding out, almost failing to kill Vecna—kept Steve on the ground holding the ruined battle vest. Everything went blurry and a sob shuddered out of his chest, followed by another.

It sounded muffled, but he heard the front door open and shut, a voice call out and then footsteps thundering down the hall.

Steve could tell Claudia hadn’t taken off her shoes and he had to get himself under control. He bit his cheek hard enough to make it bleed, trying to use the pain to snap himself out of it, but he was too far gone.

The bathroom door opened, and Steve could hear Claudia say his name as she stopped the egg timer quickly.

“I’m fine,” he tried to choke out, but it came out as a garbled mess around a sob. “I’m sorry,” he tried, and he managed to make it understandable.

“Oh, Steve, sweetie,” Claudia cooed, and Steve realized she was kneeling next to him on the floor and rubbing his back.

He leaned toward her before he could stop himself, something inside him aching for something it had never received. Claudia didn’t miss a beat, immediately wrapping her arms around him and resting her chin on top of his head.

“You’ve been so brave through so much, haven’t you?” Claudia sighed, petting Steve’s hair. “I’ve got you, sweetie, don’t you worry.”

Steve couldn’t have pulled himself together after that if he tried. He just sobbed, letting all of his fear, anxiety, and grief out while he held the battle vest to his chest. It felt like hours that he sat there on the floor, crying his eyes out while Dustin’s mom held him and ran her fingers through his hair.

Eventually, he wore himself out, either running out of sadness or tears. Taking a deep breath in, he released it in a shuddering sigh.

“There it is,” Claudia said happily, patting his back carefully and pulling back to smile at Steve.

“There what is?” he asked, his voice a bit hoarse, and he frowned at the tears on Claudia’s face.

“I like to call it the ‘first free breath.’ When you finally let out all the hurt and the sadness, and then you can breathe,” she replied, and she said it like it was so simple.

And yet, it was easier for Steve to breathe, easier than it had been in years, perhaps his whole life even. As if there had been something around his chest, slowly getting tighter every time he breathed out for as long as he could remember. Now, it was gone, or at least loosened.

“Now, what’s this?” Claudia asked, gesturing to the vest Steve was still holding tightly to his chest.

“It’s… my friend’s battle vest. He made it himself, and I was—he was bleeding a lot when—I wanted to fix it for him,” Steve answered, and it felt like he should be crying again but his body couldn’t muster the tears. “I wanted to fix it for when he woke up.”

Claudia searched his eyes and face for a long time. “Is this the young man that’s in surgery right now?” she asked, and Steve nodded quickly, opening his mouth to defend Eddie if she brought up the murders. She reached up and patted his cheek, shaking her head. “Dusty cares about him a lot, too.”

“He’s great with Dustin, Mrs. Henderson. You’d love Eddie, and I really hope you get to meet him,” Steve insisted quickly, and Claudia smiled warmly.

“I’m sure I’ll meet him. Can I see the vest, Steve?” she asked, holding her hand out for it, and he immediately passed it to her. Humming thoughtfully, she turned it over in her hands. “The vest is probably ruined, but a lot of the patches are fine, and the others might be salvageable. You get changed into some dry clothes, okay?”

Steve blinked at her a bit dumbly but nodded once. Claudia pulled him into one more hug before she got up and hurried out of the room. Doing as he was asked, Steve got into new pajamas and then went to Claudia’s bathroom to drain the tub and clean up the mess he made with water on the floor.

When he came back out, Claudia was sitting at the kitchen table with a seam ripper and carefully removing one of the patches. On the table were several Polaroids of the vest from all angles, and draped over the back of the chair next to her were a couple jean jackets.

When she glanced up at him and saw him frowning at the pictures, she smiled. “We’ll use the pictures to put them back where they belong,” she explained, gesturing between the vest, the pictures, and the jackets next to her.

Steve knew he should understand what she was getting at, but thoughts were moving through his head like molasses, and he couldn’t connect them. “What?” he asked softly.

Claudia looked up at him and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, sweetie, I’m used to talking to Dusty—you know how he is,” she laughed fondly before she looked up at him properly. “We’re going to make your friend a new one with as many of the old patches we can save, okay?”

Steve crumbled all over again, but this time it felt a lot less jagged.

Stepping closer, he wrapped Claudia in a tight hug and let out a sobbing laugh. “Thank you, Mrs. Henderson,” he murmured.

“When are you going to call me Claudia like I keep asking you to, Steve?” she asked with a chuckle, carefully rubbing his back. “This is your home if you want it, for as long as you want it, and I don’t want you to feel like I’m just your host.”

Steve thought about that, and about this house being one of the only places that had ever felt like home to him. He thought about how he felt safe there, wanted, and even loved. Then he thought about how he intended to tell Eddie about his feelings as soon as he woke up and could handle a conversation like that. Steve didn’t want to live in a house where he had to hide parts of himself again.

He had kept himself formal around Claudia to keep his distance, like if he talked like she was a host it wouldn’t hurt as much once he overstayed his welcome. It wouldn’t hurt as much when she inevitably turned on him.

But she was insistent, and Steve wanted to stay here, and he wanted to know that if he did stay, he could bring Eddie around and not hide what they were to each other.

Pulling away, Steve sat down on one of the other dining room chairs and looked down at his hands while he thought about what he was going to say.

“Eddie isn’t my friend, Mrs. Henderson,” Steve said after taking a deep breath, and he flinched at his wording. “I mean, he is, right now because everything happened before I could tell him my—that I like him. That I might be a little in love with him.”

Silence followed his confession, and Steve cleared his throat.

“Is that okay?” he asked quietly, balling his hands into fists.

Claudia put the seam ripper down and took his hands in hers, encouraging Steve to relax his fingers. “Sweetie, I know why you think you do, but you don’t need my permission to love anyone. I want you to know that I will never tell you who you can or cannot love, do you understand?” she asked gently, and Steve nodded frantically.

“But it won’t be a problem if I bring him around? Or you see us holding hands?” Steve pushed, needing to be sure.

“It won’t be a problem, as long as he makes you happy, sweetie,” Claudia said so sincerely, Steve couldn’t find a single part of him jaded enough to doubt her.

Finally, he lifted his eyes to meet hers as he said, “Thank you, C-Claudia.”

The grin and hug he was rewarded with were huge, and Steve felt a properly happy laugh bubble up out of his chest.

❖

The next day, Steve returned to the hospital feeling a bit less like he was drowning. Eddie was stable and in recovery. The wounds themselves were relatively superficial, there had just been so many, and he had lost so much blood before he received treatment. At least that had been roughly what Wayne had explained to him on the phone that morning.

When Steve arrived at the hospital, he stopped to visit Max first like he always did. Ms. Mayfield was asleep on a cot next to Max’s bed, so Steve was quiet with his greeting and little updates. It broke his heart seeing her like that on the bed, quiet and pale, barely any movement aside from her chest rising and falling with her breaths.

Once he finally arrived at Eddie’s room, he was surprised to see Wayne still there. He knew the man worked nights, so he figured he’d need to be sleeping.

“Hello, Mr. Munson,” Steve said awkwardly as he shuffled over to the other available chair.

“Harrington,” Wayne greeted, looking him up and down with an unreadable expression.

Steve settled as comfortably as he could in his chair, trying to ignore Wayne staring at him while he pulled a book and a pair of glasses out of his backpack. He had the new battle vest in his backpack to work on since Claudia taught him how to do some basic stitches, but for some reason he was nervous about doing that in front of Wayne.

“What’re you doing here, boy?” Wayne asked, and Steve looked up at him, wide-eyed. Steve appreciated that Wayne at least tried to hide his disdain, but it was impossible to ignore.

“Sorry, I’ll leave,” Steve said quickly as he put his book away, even if leaving made a hollow feeling settle in his gut. “I’m sorry for—”

“I didn’t tell you to leave. I asked what you were doing here,” Wayne interrupted with a sigh, and something relaxed in his jaw.

Steve couldn’t think of a good answer, not sure what Wayne knew about Eddie. Then again, Steve was largely assuming that himself based on several years of too-gentle touches and one kiss that nearly happened.

But even if Wayne knew about Eddie, what should Steve say here? That he wanted to be there the second Eddie woke up so he could breathe properly again? That he wanted to be here to see Eddie’s smile and hear his laugh, to finally confess the feelings he had been building gradually inside him until they were spilling over? That he waited until the last possible moment to drum up the courage to say something, and then the moment passed, and he almost lost him forever?

“I care about him,” Steve said, and it felt woefully inadequate. “I want to make sure he’s okay.”

“You care about him,” Wayne responded thoughtfully, skepticism lying thick under the words. “What does that mean?”

Steve frowned at Wayne, knowing the man was challenging him. This was some sort of test. “I’m—I might be in love with him, Mr. Munson,” Steve replied, his heart pounding hard enough in his chest that he was sure Wayne could hear it.

As it was, Wayne’s eyebrows shot upward on his forehead at the confession. That was a bit satisfying, all things considered.

“What would your old man think about that, kid?” he asked after a moment, his eyes searching Steve’s face.

“Pardon my language, Mr. Munson, but I don’t give a shit what he thinks,” Steve replied firmly, shrugging with one shoulder. “The people who actually matter know about my feelings for Eddie. Richard Harrington can shove his thoughts about it up his ass for all I care.”

Steve ignored the flash of fear that went through him saying that. It frustrated him how scared he still was of his dad when he hadn’t even seen the man in months.

Wayne was looking at him, assessing him, before he relaxed fully in his chair. “Does he know?” he asked, nodding in Eddie’s direction.

“I think he does,” Steve replied sadly, slouching in his chair. “I tried to tell him, but I waited too long, and then everything happened. We just… ran out of time.”

Wayne nodded, rolling his eyes skyward. “I’ll make sure you’re allowed in here, no matter the time, alright?” he said after a bit and his gaze met Steve’s again. “You better make good on your plan to tell him, got it? I’ve had it up to here with his lovesick pining for you.”

“Wait, what—?” Steve started, completely baffled, but Wayne just groaned loudly as he stood up and stretched.

“Keep an eye on him, would you? I’m going for a smoke,” he said and then left the hospital room.

Once he was alone in the room, Steve looked at Eddie and his heart ached. He looked so small and frail, his face gaunt and white as a sheet. But he was breathing on his own and Steve would take that as a good sign. He allowed himself a small smirk.

“Lovesick pining, huh?” Steve asked the sleeping form on the bed as he reached into his backpack and pulled out the new battle vest and got to work.

[ NEXT ]

[ AO3 LINK ]

Taglist!

@scarcrossdlvrs,@indigohightide, @mylilplanet, @anzelsilver, @nburkhardt, @afewproblems, @steddieas-shegoes, @steddie-there, @xenon-demon, @amoralmorel, @strangersteddierthings, @smalltownclaustrophobia, @stevie-my-beloved, @patchworkgargoyle, @bookbinderbitch, @steddierthings, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @wrayofmoonshine, @just-ladyme, @sushi-salsa-squirrel, @bibaybe, @ledleaf, @lostonceandneverfound, @asexualjae, @extra-transitional

Please consider reblogging and let me know if you want to stay on/join the taglist!!!

Also, if you asked to be tagged and you aren't tagged here, tumblr wouldn't let me??? I don't know why. D;

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fic #stranger things fic #gerry writes #i could be human fic

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themsource · 2 months

Text

Life Update 7/13/2024

I'm alive.

There's a lot that's gone on and is going on but I'm here. There's of course a lot going on in my life and has been going on that has once again kept me away. I will not divulge or explain, because I don't wish to. It was a lot, still is a lot, and is extremely personal.

I'm not leaving the undertale fandom as a creative, however, I will be leaving the fandom as a social participant. There's too much corruption and bitterness, too much drama and judgement in the social side of the fandom that I choose not to tolerate anymore.

There are too many people that would rather lie about who they are and what they believe as well as abuse or cut off people that have done them no harm in order to be liked and to gain approval. Acting as if life is one long extended episode of black mirror where your social ranking matters more than empathy to a fellow human, where the echo chamber is god and what's logically right and wrong doesn't matter in the face of personal opinion and paranoia.

I'm too old, and too tired.

Fandom is supposed to be fun, not a nightmare of walking on broken glass and eggshells. I have my small handful of friends that have proven that they are genuine people that legitimately don't care about the nonsense that goes around and imaginary pitchforks that can make them more popular or gain them more friends if they were to follow abusive hate trends and ignorant accusation posts lacking concrete evidence. I feel safe with them and will keep to them, always.

I no longer have time to deal with the "misunderstandings" or "confusion" that happens so often in large groups playing telephone or with those that try to fit words to their own narrative and understanding without attempting to think outside their own preverbal box of preconceived notions and bias, and don't care to do so.

I will no longer attempt to clear up anything or try to be understood by those that honestly don't know me and don't wish to, and who clearly only seek a thrill in causing pain and taking their own projected hurts and frustrations out on someone.

There will be no conversations. Every single online stranger reading this now is free to think what they want about me, even the untruths if they're so inclined.

I'm done trying.

The internet is where the hateful and cruel strive behind an anonymous mask—one often disguised in kindness and supposed acceptance—and of which is the whole of their life and meaning. But it is not mine.

Them, and the internet at large, is not worth my time, health, or life.

When I joined this fandom after my mother's death a few years ago I signed up for an experience that could bring a smile to my face while I gave one in turn to others while I dealt with my grief. Not to be shoved into situations where uneducated youths and adults in their 30s-40 with the maturity of previously said youths go rampart with the need to harm others, either to get ahead or for their own benefit in manipulation to get something out of others.

I have steadily been pulling away more and more over the years because of this. Struggling with the overflow of depression and stress that it has caused me, in turn making me push away and withdraw from people who didn't deserve it in many instances because my own value and self-worth tanked due to the self-deprecating thoughts it caused me.

I am not a saint.

I've done my fair share of wrongs, some of which I will never personally feel I have accounted for properly. I stood silent out of fear of being attacked when I should have said something to help someone wrongly accused by supposed friends and mutuals, I hid in the shadows and didn't think to lend a hand to people I saw were clearly in need because I didn't feel worthy of doing so, and probably many other things that I am unfortunately not aware of because they were never brought to my attention.

Because most people online don't believe in actual conversation but rather in blocking and spreading misinformed assumptions, and in dreaded call out posts so as to earn brownie points for "exposing" (or the nicer form of saying it, but is still just as cruel because the posters know that it WILL lead to harassment regardless of evidence or truth no matter if spread in public or private, but wish to play ignorant anyways — "spreading awareness") of someone. Granted these wrongs were for the most part carried out in my early fandom days that doesn't excuse the fact that they happened.

I still did the exact same thing that was done to me. I unknowingly perpetuated a never ending cycle of hurt, both out of fear and ignorance and out of a naïve want to be loved and accepted.

But I refuse to let myself be a victim or to think of myself as one out of guilt for those wrongs and loneliness anymore, and I refuse to witness others be abused and forced to feel the same way I did over the most menial and redundant bullshit that goes around and is somehow supposed to define your character to the dumbed digital masses.

I'm done.

Plain and simple.

I will be permanently turning off asks and no longer responding to any form of DM unless it is from someone I have initiated a conversation with, have engaged with before, or shares a mutual friend with me that can assure me that they're a decent person, and that I feel comfortable with. I will still on occasion post about updates or share something for the few that may want to keep following, but my personal accounts will largely be silent.

Just because I'm silent won't mean that I'm gone though.

It just means I'm not willing to be poisoned any longer, and am content at looking in from afar, if even that.

There's a lot of good people in this space, I know that, and it saddens me the possibilities I will miss out on in getting to meet or know any of them beyond the ones I know already, but I only get one life to live before I go six feet under, and I choose to put me first.

#life update #psa #themsource #bit of a rant #didn't mean for this to sound bitchy but oh well #came back and saw three of my fav artists/writers had left over abuse #finally snapped #I just can't anymore #here ya go six years of grief fresh out the broken oven #“This is my goodbye” from Epic the musical plays in the background

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tadpoles-and-daydreams · 4 months

Note

Hey. You were talking about meditation, I saw your post, I wanna stay anonymous tho, but love your post. You were talking about meditation and my question is, how do you do it? Bc like, I've tried, but I can't seem to do it. And how are you sure it actually happened and that it ain't just you daydreaming? I'm really insecure about these kind of stuff.

Hey! Honestly anon your question is so painfully relevant, because those are both things I struggled with for a long time.

Meditation is something I always thought was overrated- and tbh, still kind of do. You don't have to meditate. Figuring out what works for you might be a process, and ultimately the answer might not even be meditation at all. It's useful, sure, but it's not needed. Even as much as I enjoy it, I only do it a couple times a month because I'm often too busy. I'm not trying to discourage you of course, I just feel the need to put a disclaimer that meditation is not something you need to do to be valid as a witch/have a fulfilling practice.

That being said, Weightless by Marconi Union was my personal lifesaver. I spent a damn long time trying to figure out what worked. None of my current hobbies are mindlessly repetitive enough for active meditation, guided meditations just make me wildly uncomfortable for some reason, listening to personal playlists I focus on the songs too much, etc. etc. Weightless has no lyrics to focus on, no sudden changes from one song to the other, and it's outright made to calm you down as far as I'm aware. It may not work for everyone, but it's what worked for me. I use headphones so I'm only hearing that and blocking out any other noise. Since I mainly use it for communication, I don't bother trying to 'not think too much' and 'calm down' because that's what becomes a problem for me. I just sort of... lay there and chat with my deities. Eventually, it goes from just me thinking at them to getting clearer responses.

As for how I know I'm not imagining things... this one was really a big worry of mine for a while. Ultimately, it's pretty simple; When I daydream, I can control everything in it. I can rewind, redo, control all the characters. I can change things, and nothing catches me off guard.

When I meditate, though, they regularly catch me off guard. I only meditate- currently at least- as a way to talk to my deities/guides. I know I'm not daydreaming because they don't always act the way I expect them to, sometimes I can't change things, etc. etc.

If I'm feeling particularly worried, I'll confirm things with my cards. And as much as it feels like a copout answer- there's just this... difference. I can't really explain it, but it's the same difference I experience between when I'm writing fiction and a character "writes themselves" and when I'm using writing to channel a deity. I guess it would just be the feeling of their presence- which, once again, is completely not something anyone has to experience to valid. I just talk about it casually like it's normal because it is... to me.

#witchcraft #witchblr #paganism #pagan witch #pagan #witch community #paganblr #eclectic pagan #deity work #witch blog #amphibian asks

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hartshorn-and-isinglass · 4 days

Text

Yeah, no, I am 100% not going to shut up about this for the rest of the week. I wasn't expecting Saturday to live rent-free in my head like this. (I feel like I should go post a note of appreciation to one of the other blorbos on social media since I didn't get to introduce myself to them after the concert. I was just too spoon-depleted to do the fanboi thing more than once after being emotionally bulldozed by that concert.)

I've decided to go through my blog archives and... *~change some settings~* on things. Part of it is just straight-up paranoia even though everything was already anonymized and it's not like search works terribly well on this hellsite. But also... I've been on an entire-ass emotional journey for the past several days. I was not expecting to have such an extensive and personal conversation with Senpai on a first meeting, and it is rewiring my neurons about them. It was a wonderful, life-changing moment, and they are pretty much how I imagined them IRL. But now? I don't feel great about leaving the more unhinged posts up publicly.

I think my brain has officially collapsed the divide between Blorbo from My Media and the real person, and those kinda posts are just not what I want in relation to them anymore.

Like I said. Been a whole-ass journey.

Going through my old posts has also been an opportunity for me to re-examine what it was that I thought I wanted a year ago vs. where I'm at now. I keep going on about how my teenage self would have said yes immediately to Baroque violin had anyone offered, but... that was also me a year ago, before I'd started playing again. Reality has not been kind to my dreams of getting back to my former technical level within a year. But I keep thinking about how they did remind me that Baroque violin would actually put less stress on my neck if I'm using my left hand to support it. And, I would be vastly cutting back on high-position shifts, one of the main things aggravating my nerve.

Honestly, I think I'm kind of terrified of doing a thing that would be so meaningful for me on so many levels. Like, if I'm being real here, I am just a giant ball of nerves about the idea of having to invest a whole bunch of time, money and effort for the risk of discovering that this thing I thought I wanted so badly ends up being completely infeasible for some reason or another and it'll all turn to ashes in my mouth. I just... I just don't know if I have the capacity for that kind of heartbreak right now. I still feel so vulnerable, coming back into myself in the last couple of years.

But I keep coming back to the question: what might things look like next year?

I should go to bed.

#personal #marve won't shut up about violin

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dearestones · 1 year

Text

Lipstick Stains (Yandere! Amane Misa x Reader)

Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsessive behavior, reader is a photographer, slight sexual mentions.

Anonymous Request: Please post more death note yandere

Misa likes beautiful things.

Cute things.

Colorful things.

Dark, twisted things.

She loves it when she wears clothing that accentuates her curves and brings out her youthful features to the forefront of everyone’s minds. For Misa, her beauty was simultaneously a blessing and a weapon. So many people had fallen prey to her childlike whimsy, but had never known of her interest in the macabre. In this costume that she had handcrafted for herself, it was as if she felt herself invulnerable. Powerful.

Like a goddess.

But sometimes, it’s not the times when she holds power over the clothes she wears or the makeup that caresses her dainty skin.

Sometimes, it’s when you hold power over her that Misa feels the most precious and revered.

Today, as she relaxed into the practiced touch of her makeup artist, she thought about you. You, her precious little photographer who was so cute and oh so shy. Having your dear angel Misa pose in such lustful, provocative ways for your eyes? Always adjusting, making comments on how to pucker her lips just so, to bat her eyes in a way that would surely entice even the most celibate of men and women?

Misa knows that you're shy, but oh my, must you flirt with her in front of the other models and crew? You're so bad!

Don't worry.

Misa absolutely loves it when you're bad.

Ah, but if only you were only bold to actually talk to her instead of asking her to hold her arms steady. Or to wink flirtatiously at the camera.

Don't you know that girls like her want to be romanced?

But that's okay.

Misa knows that you're trying your best and that's all she can ever ask for!

"Miss Amane," her makeup artist calls out. "It's time."

Misa opens her eyes, the blue contacts as comfortable as a glove settling over her eyes. Even though it's been years since she had started her foray into the modeling world, she still starts and preens before the mirror as if it was the first time she has ever seen herself in full makeup. It's one of her charismatic traits that makes her a dream to work with—or so says her manager. Always the type of person to be entranced and romanced by the simple things in life.

Misa wonders if that's how you see her.

Don't you know that Misa notices how you always focus on the best aspects of herself? Not once has Misa ever noticed a single flaw on her soft, supple skin. Or how the clothes she wore never seemed to be too loose, too tight, or too unfitting for her.

Such a loyal photographer, you are.

Did you know that Misa keeps all of the issues that you personally had a hand in?

Misa wonders if you have copies of her magazines.

Misa wonders if you ever trace the outline of her figure spread out upon the pages, sultry lips curving in enigmatic smiles.

Misa wonders if you ever did something more to those magazines.

Would you like to do the things you did to her magazines if she personally laid herself out on your bed, legs spread, and lips pouting just as prettily as she does in front of your camera? Or would that be too much to ask?

Don’t you worry, though! Since Misa knows you’re shy, she’ll go slow just for you!

As Misa turns away from her reflection and walks towards the set (a nice white backdrop with a plethora of household objects as props), she spots you fiddling with your camera. As always, you’re so cute! The instant you notice her, you wave and Misa swoons.

You’re talking and Misa wants to listen, and she hears how your voice is akin to a soothing lullaby that rises and falls with every breath she takes. Every sound you make is heavenly to listen to, but she swears that gravity has shifted whenever you say her name. Say it again, please! She’ll do anything for you: pose, pout, smile, cry. Whatever you want her to do, whatever you want her to be, she wants you to ask that of her.

All too soon, however, she’s called away by another crew member and oh—! It's so rude of them to take her away from you, but as long as you keep your eyes trained on her… Yes, that’s right…

You’re her photographer, you have to keep your eyes on her.

And then, you start asking her to pose.

Stand straight.

Eyes forward, but look demure.

Smile, but not too wide, not too bright.

However, as Misa settles into the position that you want her in, she notices that you hesitate. Your eyes glance between your camera and herself. Was there something wrong? Oh no, please don’t tell her that you can’t be her photographer for today! Misa liked being your object of such intense attention.

Before she could inquire, you laugh a little—such a joyous sound!—and signal one of the makeup artists to come forward.

“Sorry,” you say with such bashfulness that Misa wishes she could pinch your cheeks and hold you tight around the middle, “but I think you must have smeared some of your lipstick by mistake. Don’t worry, you’ll still look cute, Misa-Misa!”

Cute—you called her cute!

And so, as Misa once again relaxes under the skilled fingers of one of the makeup artists, she smiles and thinks to herself all the things that likes about this day.

Misa likes beautiful things.

Cute things.

Colorful things.

Dark, twisted things.

But most of all, she likes you.

DISCLAIMER: I do not condone yandere behavior outside of fictional settings. Please don’t mistake the actions of fictional characters displayed in works of fiction to be considered harmless in real life.

If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.

DEATH NOTE MASTERLIST

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theveryconfusedartistsart-blog · 1 month

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Sorry, I do talk about Flowisk too!

In fact, here, you can have some

(Both from the headcanons ask game)

Oh, and they do ask for a lower stakes rematch against Az (rematch of PFF) and end up winning again because as much Az might get annoyed at Frisk for "distracting him" there's no rule against flirting in battle, it's not Frisk's fault that Asriel finds them too cute to focus lol.

(Honestly, this goes for a lot of their dynamic, consisting of silly games, competitions or bets. Each time, Asriel is desperate to win and Frisk is never taking it too seriously, just here for the fun of chase and for Asriel's “adorable” (to Frisk) reaction when Frisk probably wins, yet again by distracting him, somehow. Don't get me wrong, I know that in canon, Friskriel’s dynamic is too high stakes and too violent to classify as a cute romantic rivals type thing, but after the end, I’m pretty sure it could definitely change into that. Just like, Asriel Dreemurr was reformed but not tamed, Friskriel’s dynamic is healthy now but that doesn't mean it has to lose it's bite. They both can enjoy a non-serious fight and thus enjoy each other’s company. Not that that's all Friskriel is either of course but they're not the focus of this headcanon, now, are they?)

_________

for Frisk (Caring and bright, like MK, but certainly not a goody two shoes by any means. Down for chaos and trouble, you mess with Frisk and they mess back, and that's just what Az likes about them. They forgave him when he didn't forgive himself, saved him when he still believes he doesn't deserve to be. (Though Frisk uses it constantly to win arguments and the like... Or Frisk is always allowed to pick the first movie on movie night because "no murder" privileges, Frisk gets the last cookie because "no murder" privileges, Frisk gets to ride shotgun because "no murder" privileges, and if there's a limited supply of something, Frisk gets the first pick, once again cos' no murder privileges.)

Who... understands about the presence of Chara and about the resets. And well...I often think about Chara and their "best friends", that one person they see as an equal above all else. But, well, Asriel has his own issues and he has his own best friends to feel weirdly intense about. In the underground, he idolizes Chara as that person...the exception to all the noise, the one person he feels that he can still care about, a potential partner in crime. And I think post pacifist, he kinda latches onto Frisk in the same way, at least to start with. In this case, it's paired with a crush but it doesn't have to be, for example with Chara, it evidently wasn't.),

______

He'll give gifts anonymously, hide his face away so Frisk doesn't see him blush at them, downplay or backtrack on compliments (or just mumble them), make excuses for caring actions, can be very clingy but never in public(and if you ever see him on Frisk's shoulders, it's just because it's easier than the pot, not cause he wants to be near Frisk or anything, or sometimes it's "Frisk paid me" liar). He's not a little weenie who "cares" about people, it's just because.... uh...

You know, general tsundere stuff.

And (apart from the blushing thing) this isn't just specific to his crush on Frisk but to every relationship he has. He has a reputation to maintain, he doesn't want to be teased, he always wanted to be "strong", to be seen as a "big kid" and that still goes now even if he's done trying to impress Chara or act cool for their sake. (Now, honestly, I think he might be trying to impress Frisk and MK, even though Frisk doesn't care and actually likes the fact that he's kind of a dork and MK is... actually pretty easily impressed, in fact, and is probably more annoyed when Asriel is mean, partially in an attempt to be "cool" and "tough" and "uncaring".)

Yeah! Flowisk!

Yeeesss! These are so cute! I've got nothing to add, so I'm just gonna slap tags on this and share it. 💖🌻

Also adding this too!

Is Daisy by Zedd ft. Julia Michaels on your song list? It's a very big one for me.

#flowisk #flowey x frisk #frisk x flowey #flowisk headcanons

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kirby-the-gorb · 1 year

Text

reply roundup!

I guess vaguely once a month is just how these things work now, I do try to read everyone's tags and replies and stuff but a lot of them I just don't really have anything to reply with sorry! as always I appreciate the supportive words and well wishes and stuff <3

I also love the trifurcation of responses to [go to bed]: one group of people is like "yeah u right I sleep now thanks", one is like "sorry but I can't", and one is just like "no! I refuse!!!" lol

I did get two different "posts that have 10k to me" tags though, on [one] that actually passed 10k and [another] that is still barely triple digits and will probably stay there XD

anyway [chess kirb] was on the radar which is neat

also my birthday is this weekend :)

oh yeah and reminder that I also have a craft blog @sleepy-princess-craftery

on [the last roundup] @sacrasm said: oh the clonk'd is just my queued post tag! thr other one is self explanatory he is little he is pink and i affectionately call things freak sometimes (in combination with other words)

ohhhh that makes sense lol it was the clonk'd that I was baffled by thank you for explaining -u-

on [drowsy] @ceylonsilvergirl said: being laid up sick or injured is terrible, but I think we also need to acknowledge that it’s also boring as hell. can’t do anything fun. boring boring boring

it is!!! it's so boring!!! especially since I'm already baseline sick all the time so I have less options to start with, so to do even less than that is literally nothing!

anonymous asked: Gwah being sick sucks. I wish immune system upon you!

thank you! (I think I actually need less immune system? on account of the immune disorder. but either way I do not have an active infection anymore 👍)

on [tumble] @chefwhatnot said: get chucked idiot

where's that post like "'get (blank)ed idiot' is the funniest joke" cuz they're right

on [mask] @macro-microcosm said: glad you're feeling better! i agree that we should all still be masking up, it bothers me soooo much to see that so many people have stopped

like honestly, scientifically speaking it is way more effective and more accessible than just leaning on vaccines, and it protects people from all kinds of stuff not just covid! but nobody wants to wear masks and even people who think they're being cautious just want to lean on vaccine requirements, which is doubly inaccessible for me personally and probably millions of other people :( stresses me out too.

anonymous asked: Magicking you up some new containers

thanks! they didn't have what I wanted at target but we got some usable stuff from daiso, so at least it's not all still shoved in a ziploc bag.

@thewizardgnome asked: But what if I say bye

I mean yeah you can do that too if you want I guess lol

on [paper] @breathelifeintothatsoul said: Cool! I've always wanted to try and make my own (recycled) paper one time

it's fun! there's a lot of extra steps you can add in if you want to, but the absolute basics of it is just dump a bunch of paper strips into a bin, fill it with water, wait until it breaks up enough for your liking, then dunk some kind of stiff screen into it (horizontally) so you can pull out even layers of pulp to dry somewhere.

on [paper] @hermitfox said: oooo making your own paper is do much fun, I have fond memories from kindergarten doing that. ... actually what stops me from doing that as an adult. I should make paper again

do recommend, making things is fun and also good for you :) also the paper pulp is very Texture (affectionate) (to me) (I'm sure to others it can be very Texture (derogatory) but I like it)

on [yarn] @ceylonsilvergirl said: I am very envy of people who can follow a pattern, I can’t do that. I can do a friend being like “Oh this next one is two one two one’’, i can’t translate abbreviations into an idea in my mind. give me a diagram instead

I'm the opposite tbh, I find the abbreviations really easy to follow but looking at a diagram for knitting and crochet just turns into like, visual noise if it's more complex than like, a single fan stitch or whatever.

@my-life-is-a-bad-sitcom asked: You’re Kirby’s are so cool and I love your art style. Honestly awesome. Giving you a standing ovation. 👍

thank you! I love to draw a little guy

anonymous asked: I saw you on tumblr radar just now!! congrats!! -@secondbeatsongs

woah thanks sbs!

@darkchaogarden-blog asked: Tumblr's doing that dumb thing it's been doing lately where I can't reblog anything, so I'll just write to you personally that your art is excellent! Have a good day!

that sounds like such an irritating bug but thank you! I hope you had a good day too whenever this was :)

on [chess] @shiinteractsif said: dudes at the search thingy image. congrats

oh cool I wondered where the radar posts showed up on mobile!

on [chair] @mads-is-tired said: i’ve never played a kirby game but i desperately want to BECAUSE LOOK AT HIM

honestly so valid, he's basically a character brand to me (like hello kitty or rilakkuma). I'm probably biased, but I feel like the best games to start with are either forgotten land (the one that came out on switch last year) or crystal shards (originally for the n64, also available through the nintendo online vc). I think they're the most visually appealing (aside from epic yarn which is not a mainline game) and while they reward exploration they're not as complex as some of the handheld titles to fully explore, nor are they as hand-holdy as some of the other console titles. a good middle ground of feeling like you did the thing, without being frustrating.

on [soup] @give-soup-please said: ME #soupblogging #fucking same

how delightful that this post managed to find you :) these tags make me happy whenever I think of them

on [soup] @lord-chiopet said: me too bud. you too op hope the weather approved

good news, the weather has improved :) now it is overcast and drizzly, my favorite!

on [chess] @wealmostaneckbeard said: Neither of them know how to play so they made up some rules...

what a cute idea! I hope they are having fun with their new game.

on [baseball] @hutbug said: the teal color is called northwest green and we still wear it all the time!! its beautiful u did an amazing job

thank you for the info! before this season I hadn't really had access to baseball for the past like 8 years or something and a lot has changed lol so I didn't really trust my memory

on [blue] @ceylonsilvergirl [added] "I CAN TRY AGAIN TOMORROW! Or next week! or next month..."

that really is the vibe lately huh.

anonymous asked: Your kirbys bring me daily serotonin

aww good!

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badaziraphaletakes · 7 months

Note

I don't understand why you and your followers can't write "I read a take that said this" instead of posting the actual screenshot, which triggers a witch hunt for the OP to send hate for that specific shot you posted. If you post the takes with the handles attached, hate will be sent even more easily to the OP. If you read the OP's name and then choose at your discretion what to post... how do you manage it? Do you decide how many times the same person can be the target? What are the criteria?

I read under another post that people are happy to be blocked by so called Aziraphale haters. But, if someone wants to be blocked and never see their takes again, why do they specifically go after the “haters” to send screenshots to you and hate to the OP? Why don't you block them and instead wait for them to block you? I ask this with sincere curiosity. I assume that you are in good faith and don't want the fandom to be reduced to a small group of people. I don't write meta or analysis, so I'm not worried about being the target of anything. But a user I’ve been followed since season 2 who posted a lot of interesting metas (a bunch of them supporting Aziraphale and talking about his trauma) deactivated their blog for receiving a lot of hate after simply saying that maybe (not even definitely) Aziraphale screwed up in the end. It seems to me that the tones are a bit overheated. And posting the screenshots, even if you are in good faith, helps to keep the discourse going, in my opinion. I don't know, you have to do what you think is best, of course.

I don't understand why you and your followers can't write "I read a take that said this" instead of posting the actual screenshot

I have written about this in previous posts. LSS people are too scared to reply to the original takes, and it is reassuring to people who felt hurt by the takes to see the specific takes that are triggering to them get called out. I get a message to that effect, thanking me, at least once a day.

If you post the takes with the handles attached, hate will be sent even more easily to the OP.

We have never done that, we have never considered doing that, we never suggested doing that, and we are never going to do that. They will ALWAYS be anonymous.

If you read the OP's name and then choose at your discretion what to post... how do you manage it? Do you decide how many times the same person can be the target? What are the criteria?

About 80% of the takes that are submitted to us are submitted with the handles cropped out. We're instituting a policy for at least awhile of having the handles included when they are submitted to us so we can avoid it sharing too many posts by any one person (still a super weird coincidence that that ever happened - though I think it's relevant to point out here that by far the most obvious explanation for how that happened is that, since that person apparently has a ton of followers - so the reason so many people submit their takes to us is BECAUSE A LOT OF PEOPLE SEE THEM! - Occam's Razor). But we will always crop out the handles before posting. I (Mod X) have even cropped out non-default background colors to help with that. We take this seriously.

When the names are included I make a point of not posting too many by one person. I actually have thrown out a ton of that person's takes when people have submitted them to us with the handle attached, because I wanted to keep things in balance. And I have SIGNIFICANTLY toned down the commentary attached to many of the bad takes people have submitted to me.

This is exactly how it unfolded, as it happens. The person who, it transpires, we posted a lot of takes from (but NOT the majority of the takes we've posted - it turns out that, as far as we can tell, we posted more from them than any other one individual, but we are certain that the majority of the takes we posted were still from other people) blocked the blog about ten minutes after it was created - because they said "depression doesn't exist" and we replied with a link to an article on MayoClinic saying that depression *does* exist (it's another term for Major Depressive Disorder. But I digress). Seriously, THAT was what they blocked us for. They didn't even reply.

And we have NEVER encouraged people to harass OP's. Omitting handles was supposed to prevent that. It should have prevented that.

#cw: depression #cw: MDD #Cw: Medical misinformation #goodomens #good omens #goodomens2 #good omens 2 #badaziraphaletakes

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nikethestatue · 7 months

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Anonymous because I don’t want anyone to potentially see this and harass me.. but I’m just so disappointed with this fandom. And tbh, I blame it on ACOSF.

In my opinion, ACOSF really ruined all of the IC characters. And since it’s the last book or the series thus far, people cling to it religiously.

I don’t think SJM really did Nesta justice in her story. I never truly hated Nesta. I felt like her character, while let’s be honest pretty bitchy, was in fact hiding pain through sharp words. Hurt people hurt people. This is a very real world response to trauma. And while we see that, I just felt her journey of training and fucking did not do enough justice. The fact the IC only really “forgave” her for her actions when she saved Feyre/Rhys/nyx is somewhat of a testament in my eyes. Other than Cassian (and Elain from what Cassian mentioned how she understood what Nesta was doing everytime), it felt that she was still misunderstood. That she’s just this mean person. What I wanted for Nesta, other than feeling like she was important and deserved good things, was for the understanding to seep in with all of the characters. And she deserved a real romance. I think the fact it was physical first really took away the romance of Nessian, and honestly sometimes I wasn’t even sure they liked each other, until they had their confession of feelings on solstice. It felt forced sometimes and completely physical.

ACOSF sidelined Feyre completely, made Rhys a villain to half the fandom, made Cassian not a likeable love interest for me and not the funny comic relief character, made Elain more firy which isn’t bad because I guess it’s leading to her story, made Amren a bitch too tbh and Mor. Like she just completely fucked the whole ic with this book imo… and Emerie is a great character as well as Gwyn. Gwyn was retconned in order to ensure Nesta had two female friends. Their characters were really important to Nesta being able to just be herself without history involved. But something I wished we saw was the Archerons hashing out their feelings and trauma. Maybe that will happen in the next book.

It felt like ACOSF added nothing to the plot. Yes, we got the troves but it felt somewhat out of place. A lot could have happened involving the grand scheme of ACOTAR. It’s almost like CC3 needed to come out to answer the questions we didn’t have answered in ACOSF so that we could skip over like 300+ pages of plot.

The smut felt forced, and while “put your hands on the headboard” is definitely a giggle moment, their physical moments were just… not romantic. And I think Nessian deserved more than smut. (This is my personal opinion). Like how did we go from “I don’t have any regrets in this life. My only regret is that we did not have time. That I did not have time with you Nesta. I will find you in the next life.” To.. “I didn’t ask to be shackled to you either”…… it felt very out of character. Not to mention Cassian was still calling Mor beautiful? I don’t dislike Cassian, but I just felt it was very out of character. Or maybe I just had a different headcanon from the original series. Maybe it’s my fault.

For all Nesta went through, I think she deserved more in her book. And so did Cassian. I feel like I don’t know him at all. They had their moments, but there was a lot that wasn’t there. I do ship them because I do see the golden retriever and black cat dynamic, and I love it, and they are the warriors. But I just wanted them to really be happy. Maybe it was the reluctant mates trope that made it difficult to do. Idk. But it makes me worried for Eriel (if that’s what it’s going to be) because I feel like Azriel being a “freak” in bed will once again overpower the actually romance of the couple. Like smut ≠ romance to me. It heightens it for sure, but there needs to be the emotional ground work.

Overall I think ACOSF really twisted the fandom, and it’s lead to this very toxic environment if I’m being honest with ships. I see countless posts hating Rhys, Feyre, Elain, Az (because of his desires etc).. like the fact people are shipping Eris with Nesta instead of Cassian shows how Nessian did not stick after their book. Tbh I felt Eris was more interesting than Cassian a lot of the time.

But ya. Sorry for the long rant. I’m sure lots of this isn’t even explained well because it’s hard to get out my feelings. Like I don’t even want to read the book again in my re-read. I think Nesta was put in cc3 to make up for her book tbh. And Az because of the bonus. Like finding out about Nesta’s powers in CC3 and not her own book…? I think SJM just realized she kind of fucked up. I’m just hoping with the next ACOTAR novel that she doesn’t make the same mistakes. Maybe she just felt rushed to get Nesta’s book out of the way in order to get to Elain’s. Or that it completely was taken over by her own healing journey. Which is not a bad thing at all, it provides the real world ground work, but it also took away from Nesta. But either way, I think personally Nesta deserved better than that. Because I think her character is important and strong. Past just being a warrior. There are a lot of older sister themes that could have been involved in her book. And it just missed the mark. And that’s why I think the “valkayrie” sticks out so much. Because that was the only memorable part of it. Not even Nessian was.

Anyways thank you for reading my massive rant. Would love your opinion!!!

I pretty much agree with everything. Whatever SJM had originally planned for Nesta and for Nessian wasn't what we got in ACOSF.

Overall, it was boring and repetitive, and lacked in any depth. The pregnancy plot was ludicrous and the fact that you have your 500+ year olds losing their shit over a contrary and mouthy 25 year old just makes me want to roll my eyes. I just want to tell everyone to grow up. The writing and their 'reasons' was clunky. You gonna tell me that Rhys the Billionaire, the Elon Musk of Prythian, is gonna lose his mind over $500?

Some other stuff doesnt make sense either--how are the Archerons not the heroes of Prythian. Elain and Nesta slew the king, Feyre reforged the Cauldron, and it seemed like no one cared about that? Not one Fae? Second time Feyre saved their world and nothing? She is just back in Night Court like nothing's happened?

Where were the negotiations which were happening at the end of ACOWAR?

900 pages and the plot didnt move anywhere in ACOTAR. You needed Bryce and half of HOFAS to explain what the heck was going on in Prythian.

My personal pet peeve is that it seems none of these people have jobs, except for Azriel.

I dont understand how a general of an active army has this much time on his hands to train random women for hours every day and then have sex for hours every day. Why is no one doing any work? I think this idleness also contributes to frustration--why are you harping on Nesta and calling her a waste of space, when you all literally do NOTHING, other than build houses.

It's a messy, plotless book and i feel like it definitely contributed to the discord in the fandom. It's so needlessly divisive, and the fact that it lacks an antagonist also makes it super frustrating, because it all just feels pointless.

all in all, you are right on the nose, Anon.

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donnerpartyofone · 9 months

Note

anon here who feels a great kindred spirit with you, maybe one day i'll have the guts to message not anonymously but frankly i really admire you and also struggle with the mortification of putting myself out there directly it may be one day but not today. ANYways. just saw your post re: the knee-jerk reaction of ppl to say something like "no! everyone is special (or beautiful/smart/talented/etc.) in their own way!" when you or i tries to acknowledge something that is real to us and that affects our day to day life. ive touched on stupidity before bcuz that is something that you've articulated better than i ever could but you were talking in that post a little more specifically abt physical beauty and i do think theres something to be said there for usamerican individualism. bcuz ive heard a lot that other countries/cultures find our particular brand of individualism to be weird to say the least. and i have, for most of my life (and this is true now), had a body that has been perceived as very desirable (eg. skinny, but still have tits and an ass, proportionally "good", etc.) but my face i have always known does not live up to beauty standards. bcuz of this, ppl closer have had a hard time understanding why i struggle so much with self esteem related to my looks and have often jumped to "but youre so pretty!" when i try to talk abt it. the outside of this is that i look like a child in the face and am often mistaken for a child even at 28. when i was an actual child, read: 18 and under, i received a LOT of attention from men, often men who were old enough to be my father. now that i am not a child that attention has waned, even though i've put on a little weight and my body is frankly more rocking than ever. BUT my face stays unchanged and i think i have so of an uncanny valley effect on ppl now. im bringing all this up bcuz this is another piece of kinship i feel with you: even before i started really paying attention to your posts discussing things, i really admired your selfies bcuz you and i actually look pretty similar, we have the same texture of hair and a similar face. but i have always felt that, from your pictures, you seem much more "in control" of your look than i do. i love your sense of style and i love how you do your brows so dark and dramatic but also seem to wear (as far as i can tell; im not much for makeup so correct me if im wrong) relatively little makeup otherwise. regardless of how you look, you project an image (as always, i know i can only know you parasocially so take this as much or as little as you want to) of someone who knows how they look and how they want to present themselves. i personally keep my head buzzed most of the time, and when i first started doing it, i did it bcuz it meant that no one had any excuse anymore. they had to look at my face and acknowledge my whole bare face with no distractions. it was a way of directing how i was perceived. now i dont know if thats what your brows are to you but ive always thought "wow, the dramatic brow is such a masterful use of makeup and direction". ive always seen the way you present yourself as seeming thoughtfully and well curated, and ive hoped for myself that i could someday present that way. as you can tell, i really admire you lol. hope im not being weird. im not really sure what my point is here but once again you articulated something well that i only have ruminated on abstractly.

i've also been thinking of you bcuz recently i ran up against the old "im too stupid to do this normal thing and now it may badly affect my life" situation: tried to put my tabs on my car and bcuz they were taped to the paper, they just broke into pieces on the tape when i tried to peel them away. so i just panicked and badly pieced them onto my license plate in a way im sure will seem infinitely more suspicious should a cop notice and decide to pull me over. my husband tells me tabs are supposed to do this as an anti theft measure, this is information i somehow missed in my 28 years of life and 12 years of being a legal driver. and if i get pulled over im not honestly sure i know where all my necessary paperwork is and will undoubtedly start shaking from anxiety which also looks suspicious when i try to hand a cop my id and my hand is shaking like a leaf. and i havent been pulled over yet but now every time i drive my car im going to be thinking abt it. god willing the distraction of fear of the unknown wont lead me to crashing my car but thatd be just the thing id do too. just wanted to share bcuz i think youre probably the only person who understands how it feels and bcuz hey, i want you to know youre not the only one out there muddling through life as a series of actions and unforeseen consequences, no matter how foreseen those consequences "shouldve been".

sorry for this long and rambling message. i have no two-ipas excuse this time as its morning here and im stone cold sober (the ipas were the voodoo juice ranger by the way) but you just make me think a lot, and again, i admire you very much. thanks as always and i hope that today is, if not easier on you, at least tolerable in terms of its challenges.

Dearest field correspondent, I wish I had a more thoughtful, interesting response to your kind message, but unfortunately you may receive instead le big rant. I am very low self-control lately and you're all going to have to pay for it! I'm thinking about my 85 year old father-in-law who is still razor sharp and full of energy, and so he is vividly aware of the nearness of death and very anxious about it. At his birthday dinner he started preaching to my husband and me about how you just have to live every minute you've been given to its fullest, and I often think about how he's right and he's wrong at the same time. Like it's patently correct that you should treasure whatever life you're allowed, but I think it would take a mental giant to really do that unless you're just basically a terrific person with few problems. If your personal chemistry makes you feel bad all the time due to circumstances or past trauma or plain old bad wiring, it's really hard to just consciously choose to feel good and be filled with gratitude and slurp all the delicious marrow out of your day. And what if your days don't have that much marrow to begin with? Of course if the Christmas ghosts came and snatched you up and confronted you with the preciousness of the life you are squandering, that you can still redeem if you try, that would change your tune, but it's hard to get that same kind of life-changing effect by just intellectually acknowledging the value of yourself and your time on earth.

(I'm gonna put a break here so I don't eat up everybody's dash, brb)

I was thinking about this, in a way, because somebody just asked me for a head shot for this project I'm on, so I was going through selfies to see if I had anything appropriate, and man was that depressing. Of course Tumblr was serving a jumble of new and old pictures, but some of them looked really good, even recent ones. And I know I wasn't enjoying myself at the time that I took them, any of them. I was just struggling to feel good about myself out of some perverse sense of obligation. I've always had the urge to express something with my appearance, to build up some kind of power and efficacy around what I could do with it, but I never felt anything like that happening. I mean for every selfie that was good enough to post, there are at least 100 I had to throw out that were ugly and embarrassing and more like "the real me". And I know just from living my life that I'm not attractive, my entire social experience does not reflect that of an attractive woman; even among the guys I dated, it's hard to weigh the two who actually liked me against the majority who were just indiscriminately looking for some pathetic specimen to torture and humiliate in order to feel good about themselves.

(And I guess this is TMI but who really cares, I'm sure no one is even reading this, but the irony is that I'm really great in bed. It's a fact. I just love sex and I'm not at all embarrassed about it and I have a knack for getting people comfortable really letting loose and getting to do what they truly want. I know this for sure not only from being in the room, but from detailed postscript testimonials from partners--even the ones who secretly hated me. And naturally that makes me feel pretty good, but it feels incomplete somehow, without the sense of control of my own appearance, without a satisfying relationship to my own body which disgusts me and is constantly causing me unmanageable problems both aesthetic and medical. Like I really want to just crumple it up and throw it in the trash, who fucking cares)

But I see some of those (highly staged, illusory, pain-in-the-ass to shoot) selfies and for a second I'm forced to wonder why that person had to feel so bad about and not have any fun at all, every single day. And now it's extra hard because as I might have said, I've had rosacea for around 15 years, and most of the time it was just a fairly manageable if embarrassing redness, but ever since I took the asthma medication Symbicort for a month this summer, the condition has been progressively deforming. I don't even look the same as I did this fall, and I have no reason to believe things will get better or even level out. Like, this is it. I feel like I don't even have the same skull shape as the girl in these cute pictures from September. I'm stressing myself out wondering about all kinds of procedures I can barely pay for, that could potentially make it worse actually. I'm wondering if I need to quit my public-facing volunteer gig, one of the only things that gives my life meaning, because I'm sick of how red and bloated and wet I look in every single livestream, and I don't like it when I'm occasionally accused of being drunk or I'm randomly told to "calm down" because I looked like I'm panicking even when I'm not. I don't know what to do. I wish I didn't care. But it's tough to look back at old pictures, even just from six months ago, and think Damn I didn't know how much worse things were about to get, I should have live-laugh-loved through every grueling moment of my luxurious mediocrity while I still had it to enjoy!

--On that note there's a certain curse of women who are like, not ugly enough for it to feel like a hopeless case, but who also don't actually have much potential to do anything satisfying with themselves. If you absolutely know that beauty isn't an open road for you, you can choose not to waste energy on that and you can focus on any number of other things that can make your life happy and meaningful; but if you have that nagging suspicion that maybe you COULD be finding exciting ways to express yourself through your looks, then you're dogged by this feeling of dissatisfaction and constantly wondering if it would be better if you just threw in the towel and called yourself ugly so you could stop thinking about it, or if that would be wasteful because maybe something nice would happen if you just made more of an effort, maybe there's still time, maybe you need the right haircut, maybe you need to shake up your wardrobe, maybe you need to learn that advanced hygiene routine that you always found too confusing to master, maybe you just need to get in shape, maybe et al ad nauseum. It would be better not to have to wonder about it all. And of course there's social pressure to maintain ambiguity, especially for women: You're supposed to work really hard to be hot, but you're supposed to act like it's all effortless and also like you have no idea how attractive you are. But you can't be unrealistically humble or people will hate you for that, too--they'll hate you for being dishonest, or they'll give you shit about your apparent self-esteem issues, because somehow that is always everybody's business. You can't win!

You're right that I don't wear much makeup, I really never learned; I never had a mom who was interested in me or the kinds of female friends who help you learn all the pageantry. I wore some makeup for a little while at the end of my 20s because I had to go to my fancy brother's wedding and I was embarrassed about looking raw and dowdy forever in his fancy wedding photos, so I forced myself to learn a few things. But basically I don't want to be bothered, and I enjoy the Joan Crawford brow I do, but that's utilitarian also--if I'm not paying attention I'll rip all the eyebrow hairs out of my face, which is extra embarrassing if it happens in the middle of a work day or something. So now the pencil is essential! And since my face started turning red I usually use some primer and foundation that I really like, although there is very little that keeps my head from looking like a big swollen clown nose, from now on. (All of my minimal supplies are from Make Up For Ever btw, expensive but long-lasting and reliable)

Unrelated but I'm really pissed off that I can't drink anymore, because now it brings on this violent painful flushing, and every time that happens it causes progressive destruction and like, basically every day is worse than the last--which is true anyway about aging, but it's escalated for me. But like, I have severe depression and anxiety and I can't be on any mood medications because they make my tinnitus intolerable, so the only thing I could reliably do for myself was have a little alcohol. Like just half a can of beer would get me through so many tough chores and bouts of mindless fear. And I love wine, I love amari, I love whiskeys, I love esoteric cocktail nonsense, I have a ton of friends from the craft beer world, and now basically there are entire art forms that I can't enjoy anymore, like ever again. And you can bet this is going to affect my relationships. I know people will want to say that's bullshit, quitting drinking is practically always a good thing and your "real friends" will stick with you sober...but that's all pretty hyperbolic. I don't want my life to be winnowed down to only the purest stuff. I don't want this cornerstone of my social and cultural life to be ripped out from under me. I never even developed any bad behaviors to deserve this! And god knows I don't want to have absolutely zero options for calming my nerves. Therapy and yoga and meditation have done nothing for me psychiatrically. I'm just fucked, really, in the dreariest most mundane way possible.

I wouldn't be so hung up on getting drunk and looking pretty if I had some other source of meaning, but it's hard to find that essential driving force when you can't even get through the day's chores like a normal person. I'm on like day 5 of trying to fold my clothes or even just shove them into bags, and I live in terror of the avalanche that is going to happen when one of us needs to get out the bed sheets that I "put away" dangerously in the closet, despite multiple attempts to do it right. I don't drive so you're ahead of me on some level! But I'm 100% positive I wouldn't have understood all that stuff about the tabs, haha. This week I'm seeing my GP and I'm going to ask for a psych referral for evaluations for autism and ADHD. I'm scared that I'm opening myself up to being officially diagnosed as just lazy and negative and then everyone will get to tell me I Told You So about how my only issue is my poor attitude, but I'm sure there's something going on with me, and if it's ADD and god forbid I can get a little medication of some kind that allows me to like wash dishes and do laundry like a normal person without making everything exponentially worse...then, you know, that would be a really big deal. It seems to me that a lot of people are depressed because of some unfulfilled dream they had of being really sexy and cool and talented, or some other superlative--and we usamericans do experience a lot of irrational cultural pressure to be Awesome at something, I'm not looking down on people who suffer from this--but all I want is to like, get on the bus successfully. To not humiliate myself every single time I go to ship a package because I just can't figure out what's going on, yet again. To not be having constant wardrobe malfunctions. To vacuum my house without just mysteriously pushing dirt and hair around into different configurations. To cook a nice simple meal I don't destroy. To have a job again. These are my most treasured fantasies. Maybe if we both put pressure on "the Universe" to "manifest" our dreams this year, then we can have a great 2024!

#sorry lol

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