#sometimes it pays to hold out and give the benefit of the doubt

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

honestly it's been really healing being back to actively contributing things and writing out thoughts on tumblr the last week or so, because while twitter tends to be easier for me to write out Thoughts on without getting overwhelmed, the environment in the twitter fandom circles i'm interested in is not only infested with antis but cliqueish in a way that is caustic to the fucking soul if you try to express a thought that's more than three sentences long--a hundred times over if you're autistic in slightly the wrong way--and it's incredibly reassuring to come back to an environment where the very kindest and most inclusive people toward you are not clearly thinking the r-slur the entire time they interact with you lmao

[littlelamy]

Request hehe: Maybe Reader has some trust issues due to past cheating etc. So she is constantly doubting If Rafe is doing something behind her back and it’s damaging their relationship/Rafe is feeling very offended that she could ever think that and leaves very upset. So some self-sabotage on her part.

a/n: thank you so much for requesting!! 💗 pngs from @saizun

the tension in the room was as palpable as the crisp autumn air seeping through the edges of rafe's window. you stood by the edge of the bed, arms crossed, while rafe paced near the door, his brows furrowed and lips drawn tight. it wasn’t the first time you’d found yourself in this situation—accusations hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

“i just don’t get why you think i’m lying to you,” rafe finally said, running a hand through his messy blond hair. his voice was raw, teetering between frustration and sadness. “what did i do this time?”

the pang of guilt that shot through you was immediate, but it was quickly overshadowed by the relentless doubt that had been gnawing at you for weeks.

“i don’t know, rafe,” you muttered, staring down at your hands. “you’re just… too good to be true sometimes. i mean, look at you.” you gestured vaguely at his tall, athletic frame, the way he looked even in a simple t-shirt and jeans. “how do i know you’re not out there talking to someone else? everyone likes you.”

he stopped pacing, standing still for a moment as your words sank in.

“you think just because people like me, i’d cheat on you?” his voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that made you wince.

“it’s not like that—”

“then what is it like, y/n?” he interrupted, his tone sharp now. he stepped closer, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. “because this isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation. you keep accusing me of something i’m not doing, and it’s…” he exhaled shakily, taking a step back. “it’s killing me, honestly.”

the tears you’d been holding back began to sting your eyes. you hated how this always ended—with you feeling like the villain and rafe looking at you like you’d just run over his dog.

“it’s not about you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “it’s about me. i’ve been through this before, rafe. i’ve trusted someone before, and they… they betrayed me.”

“and i’m paying for what someone else did?” his voice cracked, and he shook his head in disbelief. “do you even hear yourself?”

you stayed silent, your chest tightening with every second that passed.

rafe let out a bitter laugh, running his hands over his face. “do you really think i’m that kind of person? that after everything we’ve been through, i’d just—what? throw it all away for someone else?”

“i don’t know!” you blurted out, tears finally spilling over. “i don’t know what to believe anymore. i want to trust you, rafe, but it’s so hard. every time you’re late, every time you get a text and don’t tell me who it’s from, my mind goes to the worst place.”

“that’s not fair,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “you don’t even give me the benefit of the doubt. you don’t even try to trust me.”

you wiped at your tears angrily, hating how vulnerable you felt. “maybe i don’t know how,” you admitted, your voice breaking.

rafe stared at you for a long moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he fought to keep his composure.

“i can’t do this,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

your heart sank. “what do you mean?”

“i can’t keep proving myself to you when i’ve done nothing wrong,” he said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “i love you, y/n. i love you so much it hurts, but this?” he gestured between the two of you. “this is tearing me apart.”

you took a step toward him, panic rising in your chest. “rafe, please. i’m sorry. i’ll work on it, i promise. just don’t… don’t leave.”

but he shook his head, his expression a mixture of sadness and resolve. “i need some time to think,” he said, his voice trembling. “i can’t keep feeling like i’m not enough for you when i’ve given you everything i have.”

he turned and walked out the door, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. the sound of the front door closing echoed through the house, and you collapsed onto the bed, sobbing into your hands.

you had pushed him away. the one person who had always been there for you, who had loved you despite your flaws, was gone—and it was your fault.

the days that followed were a blur. you went through the motions of life, but everything felt hollow without rafe. he didn’t call, didn’t text, and the silence was deafening. you wanted to reach out, to beg for his forgiveness, but every time you picked up your phone, the shame stopped you.

instead, you spent your time reflecting on the mess you’d made. you thought about the way you’d let your past dictate your present, how you’d let your insecurities poison something good.

you thought about rafe’s face the last time you saw him—the hurt in his eyes, the way his voice broke when he said he loved you.

you loved him too. you always had. but you’d let your fear overshadow that love, and now you were paying the price.

a week later, you found yourself standing outside rafe’s house, your heart pounding in your chest. you’d rehearsed what you wanted to say a million times, but now that you were here, your mind was blank.

taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door.

it opened a moment later, and there he was—rafe, looking as handsome as ever despite the tiredness in his eyes.

“y/n,” he said, his voice soft but guarded.

“hi,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “can i come in?”

he hesitated for a moment before stepping aside to let you in. you walked into the living room, the familiar space feeling foreign without the warmth you were used to.

“i’m sorry for just showing up,” you said, turning to face him. “i just… i needed to see you.”

he nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “what do you want, y/n?”

“i want to fix this,” you said, your voice trembling. “i want to fix us.”

rafe let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “you can’t just say that and expect everything to go back to normal.”

“i know,” you said quickly. “i know i’ve hurt you, and i hate myself for it. but i’ve spent the last week thinking about everything, and i realized… i’ve been so unfair to you, rafe. i let my past ruin what we had, and i’m so sorry.”

he looked at you, his expression unreadable. “do you even trust me?”

“yes,” you said without hesitation. “or… i want to. i know i’ve given you every reason to think i don’t, but i do, rafe. i trust you more than anyone. i’m just scared. scared of losing you, scared of getting hurt again.”

“you’re not the only one who’s scared,” he said, his voice softening. “do you know how it feels to love someone who’s always waiting for you to screw up? to feel like no matter what you do, it’s never going to be enough?”

tears welled up in your eyes, and you stepped closer to him. “i’m so sorry, rafe,” you whispered. “i never meant to make you feel that way. you are enough—more than enough. and i don’t want to lose you because i couldn’t get out of my own head.”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t know, y/n. i don’t know if i can keep doing this.”

“please,” you said, your voice breaking. “i’ll do better. i’ll prove to you that i can be better, that i can trust you the way you deserve to be trusted.”

he studied your face, his blue eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.

“i love you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “but this has to change. i can’t keep living like this.”

“it will,” you promised, stepping closer and taking his hands in yours. “i’ll change. i’ll prove to you that i can be better.”

he sighed but didn’t pull away from you. “this is your last chance, y/n,” he said quietly. “i mean it.”

“i won’t waste it,” you promised, looking up at him.

for a moment, there was nothing but silence between you, the tension thick and heavy. then, slowly, rafe’s hands moved to cup your face.

“don’t make me regret this,” he murmured, his voice soft and raw.

“i won’t,” you whispered, your breath hitching as he leaned down.

his lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, a silent promise of forgiveness and hope. you clung to him, pouring every ounce of your love and regret into the kiss, vowing to yourself that this time, you would get it right.

when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed.

“i love you, baby,” he said again, his voice steady this time.

“i love you too,” you whispered, your heart swelling with both relief and determination.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl l @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[eldritch-spouse]

The way I would be side-eyeing my boss, just itching for him to go out for his smoke break, so I can teach this bastard what the value of reading is.

As soon as he rounds the corner, I'll fucking get up on the counter like, "Listen here, you little rat, you got two eyeballs in that knocker of yours, but you can't see out of either of them, can you? It says right. Fucking. HERE." I make sure to hold the item inches from his face and point at the print. "LIMITED. FUCKING. DISCOUNT. And see, I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt; maybe you really don't know how to read or you're a fucking idiot. So let me dumb it down for you: LIMITED means NOT forever; the time that it was limited is FUCKING OVEEER!" I throw the item down onto the floor with rage, spilling the contents of its inside on the floor that I just mopped. It only makes me more furious. "And YOU, vile sex pest, don't think I can't fucking see you! Take your hard on and your bottom out of my fucking store before I turn your hides in the doormats I will wipe shit on every day after work. I'm sick and fucking tired of you two running my day, i have no energy left to deal with you— NO! Don't you DARE reach for your dick!" Then the manager comes back in because he heard the commotion, and suddenly I get off the counter and I am peaceful again, put on my best customer services for these waste oxygen (I really need this job, even if the pay's low). I feel like Moz would start making fun of me again, and I would grip the counter so hard it just might start cracking. I would be using every muscle in my body to not jump over the counter and start strangling that bitch in front of my boss.

I am only submissive for boss-kun 🥺🎀✨️

[Don't... Don't make me draw the boss.]

You can be sure that Moz is screaming right back at you. Most of what he says is irrelevant, because he understands he's in the wrong, he's just a bully who wants free things and isn't about to get out-played by a little human who he could hunt for sport. It's a total shitfest, Babesley isn't even listening to you, he's already steadily on his way to an orgasm just from riling himself up at the thought of you two getting furious enough to fuck on the floor.

The manager -If Satan were real, this would be the guy- Shows up and just pats you on the head like a purse chihuahua. "Sorry folks, this one just gets a little enthusiastic sometimes. It won't happen again."

And that's when they both know they have free reign to fuck with you. Or so they think.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA in this friendship? give me a minute here, it's more complicated than it sounds

I'm 19 years old, female. So there's this friend, we'll call her B (also 19F). We've been friends for years, since elementary. We've been good friends for that time, I thought.

But especially during high school, it was hard to spend time with her. She was always convinced the friend group hated her even though all I'd ever hear was that they liked her and were confused/frustrated/hurt as to why she thought that. She's always had a lot of mental illness going on (depression, anxiety, ADHD, etc) so I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. She spent most of her time in another part of the school refusing to spend time with me or the friend group saying she wanted "alone time" even though she was surrounded by other friends.

I knew she was feeling unwanted within the friend group, so I tried to spend time with her when she would let me. But it kind of alienated me from the rest of the friend group so I spent a good portion of my lunches alone. Plus, even though she would say its ok for me to be there, sometimes it felt like she hated me and my presence. But then she would turn around and tell me I was the only one she could be truly honest with, etc, etc.

The reason I tried not to pay too much heed to the idea that she might really hate being my friend is because I also struggle with anxiety pretty badly. I've been working really really hard to just listen to what people tell me, because I can't trust what I'm telling me.

But this feeling continued after high school, and it felt like there was something I didn't know, like she secretly hated me and only put up with me.

Almost every time I would invite her to do something, she would try to invite someone else too. That's fine, but when it happens almost every time... it made me feel like I was unwanted.

I got really clingy. I'll admit that. I texted her often (most days a week) and would get anxious when she didn't respond within a couple of hours, leading to me double, triple texting most of the time. She told me not to text her during work, but how am I supposed to know for sure? She told me her hours once, but I have no record of it and I don't expect her to memorize my schedule so I feel like that's unfair. Plus, if I didn't press for an answer, I often wouldn't get one at all or wouldn't get one for days. Like one time I tried to schedule a time to hang out a few weeks in advance. She told me she would get back to me, but then the day before, still nothing. I texted over and over again, trying to get an answer, until she got mad at me for texting so much and told me she didn't think hanging out would work out. But the point is I got clingy, in a way that I understand made her anxious.

My anxiety got the better of me and I decided to stop contacting her. I held to it for a couple of months, aside from wishing her happy christmas/new years. But my birthday came and went for the second year in a row without a word, and I decided I needed to talk to her about it.

I did, and although she refused to do it in person like I wanted, I thought it was a pretty good conversation. She told me about a couple things I was doing to make her uncomfortable. I promised to work on those and being less clingy. I told her I need her to be honest about the things that bother her, and she said she needed time to work on that skill. She said she was thinking a month, maybe less, so i agreed not to contact her first during that time and she promised to contact me soon.

I didn't hear from her for three months. I finally broke down and texted her, asking to talk it out and telling her this arrangement wasn't working for me. She didn't respond for almost a week. I needed peace of mind, so I said I was done with waiting and I would be open to rekindling the friendship later, but I wasn't going to hold my foot in the door for her any longer. No response again.

I remembered I owed her money and asked her when would be a good time to drop it off (it was not like five bucks, it was a fair amount of money so I didn't want to like leave it on a doorstep or something). No response again for a day. I told her if I didn't hear from her in a couple of days I was going to keep the money.

She finally responded a day later, saying she didn't have the energy for a "high maintenance" friendship and to leave the money in her mailbox.

I don't know who was at fault here. I mean, I was clingy and I ended the friendship, but she didn't give me a chance to change and didn't stick to her word. But I don't know if contacting her again after those three months was clingy? I really don't know, and the end of this friendship has been tormenting me. I just want to know who was at fault and then I can deal with it, but I honestly don't know.

Also, WIBTA for contacting B again and trying to rekindle the friendship?

Please do not ask multiple questions in a single submission. It just confuses things and makes it hard for people to vote in the poll.

[yandere-fics]

♡ Selene Mommy Kink ♡

(Tumblr deleted it the first time i wrote this but I am determined to keep trying.)

You had always dreamed of having a soulmate since you were young, perhaps a cute elf who would obey your every command or a dumb as rocks werewolf who would be loyal to you and only you from day one, so needless to say, when you met your soulmate for the first time, who had just been flirting with another girl until you saw you and completely lost interest in the other girl, you were extremely disappointed, soulmates were supposed to be a wonderful thing to have, their presence would only add to your life, they couldn't make you miserable or fail you in anyways right? Turns out that was a sack of crap because you'd gotten stuck with the wolf god herself, a notorious womanizer who couldn't stop thinking with her dick for two seconds, it almost felt like the universe was laughing at you and so you would have to make Selene pay by being the opposite of what she was probably expecting as well, werewolves were usually in charge when it came to their mates so instead you would force her to take the submissive role in your relationship and let all your rage out on her.

"Dove, I'm very pleased you invited me back to your hotel, I'm glad you forgave me for that little... indiscretion earlier tonight." The longer she talked, the more you felt like your blood was going to boil, gods she was so frustrating, you were just so angry you'd gotten stuck with this disobedient overgrown child of a mate, sure she was a goddess and one of the strongest werewolves so technically the gods would view you as having been extremely lucky in the mate department but at the same time, her personality was shit and she'd fucked possible every unmarried human in your whole town so no you really didn't see how you could possibly be considered lucky here. Loyalty was the whole benefit to having a soulmate, they would be overbearing and sometime murderous but at the end of the day they were truly loyal only to you, meanwhile you were left with the one supernatural who likely had ever been with someone who wasn't their mate. She sat down on the bed with a smirk on her face which just made you want to punch her, under other circumstances you might have been blushing and thinking about how lucky you were to have such an attractive mate but currently all you wanted was to reduce her to a pathetic sobbing mess.

"Shut up, I haven't forgiven anything yet. You need to earn my forgiveness. To start with, I want you to call me mommy." You started to strip where you stood, you'd make her kneel and worship the very ground you stood on for the rest of eternity just to make up for how horrible it had felt when you learned your soulmate was nothing more than a filthy mutt, even then it still wouldn't be enough to quell your anger fully, though this did actually satisfy you in a way, sure everyone had gotten to see her intimately but you highly doubted anyone had ever been able to see her act submissive, it would be a sight for you alone, maybe you'd record her begging her mommy for forgiveness once you got her well trained enough for now. "Maybe if you cry for forgiveness from your mommy convincingly enough I'll let you have me tonight."

She paused for a moment trying to gauge if you were serious before she finally realized you were and got on her knees before you, her hands holding onto your ankles, trying to show you how desperate she was to even be allowed to touch this much of you, it would be cute if you weren't still plagued with the memory of that girl from earlier. "Please mommy, I'll do anything for you to understand I only want you, it was just so lonely waiting for you-" You kicked her hands away, you didn't need to hear her stupid excuses, if demons could wait centuries then so could she.

"Shut up, from now on you're not allowed to touch me until I give you permission, you will sleep on the floor next to our bed and you will only be allowed to hold me at night once you've learned to obey me. Now, do you want to cum?" She looked up at you, hers eyes tearing up when she realized she couldn't just ask for forgiveness and everything would be fine, the weight of her mistake was beginning to dawn on her, perhaps it wouldn't be so hard to train her, you just needed to make her desperate for even a crumb of your approval before taking it from her. "Then go ahead and jerk off to me, I'm not letting you touch me tonight, maybe in a week from now." She whined but despite that she still wrapped her hand around her cock and began to move up and down furiously, little whimpers leaving her mouth as she did, you doubt she did this very often, she most likely just went out whenever she felt horny, thinking about that again made you angry and you almost felt like stopping her but you decided you'd let her have this for tonight, it would be her last orgasm for awhile until you felt she had repented enough.

"Clean up when you're done, I need rest, maybe if you serve me well enough tomorrow I'll allow you to eat me out." You walked past her as she sat on the floor with her brows furrowed, clearly struggling to get herself off.

"Yes, I'll do anything for my dove, I mean m-mommy to forgive me." You clicked the light off, she could see well enough in the dark, she didn't deserve to have light when you weren't around anyways.

[happylikeasadsong]

save it for later x sydney's decision

so we all know the song save it for later is everywhere this season so logically i was paying close attention to whenever the song would come out and try and read more into it.

i'll be analyzing eddie vedder's cover, released exclusively for the bear season 3.

let's dive in

of all scenes where they played it in, the one that really stuck to me was when it played in the bg while she was having a coffee with shapiro and he was offering her the job.

i saw this meta doing a deep dive in the fourth wall theory by @brokenwinebox that's based on @thoughtfulchaos773 meta on it too and they mentioned the songfacts interview where dave wakeling explains what the song is about and i couldn’t help but be even more intrigued by the meaning behind the scene in episode 7.

“So it was about being lost … and you'd have all sorts of people telling you this, that, and the other, and advising you, and it didn't actually seem like they knew any better. So it was like, 'Keep your advice to yourself. Save it for later.'”

so we know syd has been feeling under appreciated ever since carmy decided to take over the menu and started disregarding most of her ideas, if not all of them.

we see her talk to all people involved. we see her having her dad say the partnership agreement is flimsy, nat and cicero both having a friendly chat with her before telling her to sign the agreement, pete says is a good thing, carmy is being carmy, and then shapiro adding to her anxiety saying he wants her to run this new place and it all sounds incredibly good, but he plans to move fast…

it should be an easy decision if you look objectively at the situation. she’ll be getting a better pay, benefits, creative control and freedom to do as she likes, she’ll be seen as a partner from the jump, no circling around it, no doubts. chef adam shapiro wants her.

but chef adam shapiro doesn’t know her. doesn’t know her story or how she’s like. he doesn’t know about her failed business. and he definitely doesn’t know her history with carmy.

so for him i think this is a chance to have the cdc who’s working with carmy berzatto, the prodigy chef. it would look wonderful on paper. but he doesn’t know her.

sydney on the other hand has seen multiple articles on the near where they only show or talk about carmy’s accomplishments and gives only him the praise both of them should be getting.

i think that having her name erased from the restaurant she put her blood, sweat and tears in cause carmy was nowhere to be found, frustrates her even more (deservedly!).

sydney's lost. she doesn't know what to do or which path to follow.

all of these people around her don’t know what’s she’s going through because she won’t talk to anybody about it. she’s saving it for later, at her own demise.

she’s being pulled in all these different directions and she’s lost, she doesn’t want to leave her found family, but the offer is an opportunity for a fresh start in a place where she knows she’s gonna be running things as she sees fit and have the freedom to allow her creativity to flourish again.

cry, cry but i don’t need my mother just hold my hand while i come on a decision on it

this line makes me think she will eventually open up to someone that will help her once she finally makes a decision.

which can be her dad. he’s been calling and asking her about it and she said it herself her dad is the person in her life she can count on.

i don't know how i’m meant to act with all of you lot, sometimes, i don’t try

she gets tired of trying to reach carmy so she just detaches herself to make it through the day. we see that happening in ‘doors’, ‘violet’ and ‘legacy’ where she just accepts his final words and moves on, even though she’s frustrated.

sooner or later, your legs give way, you hit the ground save it for later, don’t run away, don’t let me down

we see her reaching her lowest in the last episode. quite literally, her legs give way and she hit the ground, cause she’s been bottling up all these feelings for so long that she cannot hold it in anymore.

we see flashbacks in her mind showing the family she found in the restaurant, she saw them grow so much with her these past months, they’re her family and she doesn’t want to runaway and let them down.

don't run away, don't run away, don't run away x4

this part of the song you can feel the desperation on eddie's voice, it's not an easy decision to make, running away.

she doesn’t want to let anybody down. that’s her biggest fear. so she says she’s gonna think about chef adam’s offer, she nods in agreement when nat and cicero tells her to sign the partnership agreement. she agrees when pete says it’s a good thing cause she doesn’t want to let anybody down, she can’t. and this takes a toll on her we see manifest in her panic attack.

for the second part of the song is where my delusion swoops in lmaoo

now, as i said before, the person who’s she’s finally gonna open up about her struggles can be her dad, but reading the lyrics, makes me want it so bad to be carmy.

maybe im projecting too much, idk, but it really fits them so perfectly.

two dozen other stupid reasons why we should suffer for this? don't bother trying to explain them just hold my hand while I come to a decision on it

i don't know why, but these lines makes me imagine a scene where they’re finally talking about their feelings and she express her frustration with carmy for the past months, she talks about how leaving is the best decision objectively and gives him her reasons.

she seems set on finally making a decision, but she needs him to help her through it cause this is the hardest thing she ever had to do.

she’s letting him down and she’s running away because this is the best thing for her right now.

why don’t you hold me? why don't you and kiss me now? why don't you just hold me?

as a hardcore sydcarmy i’m holding out hope for that big sydcarmy fight that’s for sure coming the next season so that we can finally see how they react to one another when they finally say what they’ve been meaning to say all this time.

hold me and kiss me now run away, run away and let me down x4

in this final part of the song eddie's voice sounds like he came to acceptance that she's leaving. he just needs to hold and kiss her to see her out.

maybe carmy will understand her reasonings and will let her know it's okay for her to go and find better things for her and though i'm a firm believer she's not leaving in the end, i think this would be a nice alternative solution to her problem if it comes to it.

sydney's so afraid of letting everybody down that she never thought they might want her see her happy in other places and that that's okay to leave. i don't think she has considered this option yet.

anyways this is just my first analysis on it, i may have to revisit once i think more on it. i'd love to know if anyone has thoughts on it too, i'd love to read them!

[fanfic-scribbles]

Steeb

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: Working in a coffee shop, you have heard and seen all manner of names and spellings thereof, and you’re only human– mistakes happen.

So why’s this guy gotta be such a dick about it?

Quick facts: Friendship – Steve & Reader – Nondescript Reader

MCU Timeline: Set some nebulous time after CA:TWS

Words: 4218

A/N: Back on my coffee shop bullshit because the idea made me laugh :)

~

You don’t mean to do it.

It’s been a long day, you’re overworked, and so when you hear ‘Steeb,’ (you’re certain you heard it exactly like that), you write it down to the best of your ability and go on with making the drink. You’ve heard plenty of unique names during your tenure working behind the counter of a coffee shop, and been subjected to every possible way to spell even the most common ones, so you don’t even bat an eye. You simply finish making the drink, call out the name as you set it on the counter, and immediately turn to the next to keep the line moving.

After a few minutes the rush has died and the cup is still there, and a tall blond man hovers around, staring at it uncertainly. Starting to fill with dread, you go repeat the drink order in the hopes that he’ll recognize it.

“Oh, yes; that is me…” He frowns at the cup, holds it up, and squints at it some more. He looks as tired as you feel, but instead of replenishing his energy with some sugar and caffeine, he frowns at you and says, in a terse, clipped tone, “‘Steeb?’ Really?”

It has been a long fucking day and you feel a rush of anger blow through you before you tamp it down, put on the smile that you hope doesn’t look as lined with knives as it feels, and say, “I am very, very sorry sir; I must have misheard your name. Please enjoy your drink.”

He waits, opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, but thankfully he just takes his drink and goes.

Good riddance.

~

A few days later you’re wiping down behind the counter after a long rush when he comes in again. He sees you, hesitates, and therefore so do you– but he approaches with a forced smile and you try to relax. He’s not anywhere near the top ten worst customers you’ve ever had to deal with; so what if he got a little snippy when you fucked up his name. Maybe he was having a bad day too. You decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Oh, and it’s ‘Steeeeeeve.’ ‘Steeeeeeeeeeevvve.’”

Nope. Still an asshole. The way he says it is so much like explaining his name to a small child with next to no verbal skills that you nearly grip the cup in your hand to destruction while he watches you. Through great restraint, (and the truly unfortunate need to keep paying for groceries and shelter), you plaster on a smile. “Of course,” you say placidly. His brow furrows in…concern? You wait until you turn away to roll your eyes. You’re not going to mess with food; what kind of monster does he think you are? You prepare him his drinks– but before that you write down his name. Exactly as he said it.

‘Steeeeeeeeeeevvve’ wraps at least halfway around the cup and given that he’s the only one waiting you call his name out likewise. It’s petty, and it’s definitely petty the way you take enjoyment in his annoyance as he picks up the cup and follows all the letters.

“Did I do something?” he asks.

Aside from treat me like a fucking toddler? But you can’t say that. Stupid food. Stupid rent. “Of course not sir,” you say flatly. Sometimes you can skate by pissing people off if you seem unaffected enough– some people really do believe you’re that stupid. “I’m just trying to get your name right. Exactly as you say it.”

It doesn’t seem to work on him. However, the way it doesn’t work on him means he…snorts, the corners of his lips turn briefly up, and he walks away with his drinks without lodging a complaint.

…Maybe he’s not a total asshole after all.

~

The next time he shows up, after ordering, he stares at you for a moment and then brings out his debit card and shows you the name printed on it.

At this point you do know his name (it’s not like ‘Steve’ is actually the hardest name to remember for someone who left such a negative impression on you, even if that impression was a bit of a knee-jerk) but he looks a little amused and wary, like he’s not sure how you’re going to mangle it this time.

You’re not really sure what his deal is, but you know a challenge when you see it. Still, fucking up his name on purpose feels like it violates the spirit of…whatever this thing is. However…

It’s a little slow, so you take a moment to write on the cup, trying to perfectly mimic the print of his name on the card. When his drinks are done you call out the order instead of his name, though you face the writing on the cup towards him. He walks up, his eyes zero in, and he…cracks a smile. A real smile, if a bit wobbly.

He shakes his head as you restock some cups, nods his thanks, and leaves.

You’re probably done now, but that’s a good note to leave it on, you think.

~

He comes in another time with two people– a reserved woman and a man with a bright smile. They’re both friendly and the new guy is so personable he makes you smile even after a long night of little sleep. Steve seems happy enough today and doesn’t make a fuss about his name, although the both of them watch you for a reaction as though he’s told them. They seem amused, but they all shuffle off after they pay.

Well. You would hate to disappoint.

Natasha and Sam get nice cursive. ‘Sam and Natasha’s Friend’ gets flat print.

Steve sighs heavily, Sam laughs, and Natasha grins wickedly. More customers come in and you forget about them except as a nice note on an otherwise unremarkable day.

~

You are more than willing to admit Steve is not as much a jerk as he first seemed to be. He must have been having a few bad days himself, to be so snippy, and hey, maybe names were a sore subject with him as they could be with so many others. Trying your best doesn’t mean you’re exempt from being accidentally hurtful. Being as short on patience as you were, (unfortunately, often are these days), you didn’t exactly act as well as maybe you should have either.

So when he comes in and looks a little down, you treat him with a bit more care. He orders something warm and, in your opinion, comforting. When you ask him if he wants whipped cream he shrugs, and before you can say anything else, he says his name in a very quiet voice.

When he walks away you switch out the cup for another size up, break out a special pen, write his name carefully, and go about making the best damn drink you can. The whipped cream towers on the top, you dig out some of the colorful sprinkles left over from a recent seasonal promotion, and you barely put the drink down in the pick-up window before he’s there. He smiles slightly when he sees it (that whipped cream tower is a work of art if you do say so yourself) and he carefully turns the cup around, looking for his name. When he goes a full circle he squints and looks at you.

“Keep looking,” you say and go back to the register.

He stays in the shop to drink it and tries to find his name for a bit before he gives up and gets through the whipped cream and a good portion of the drink before he’s able to hold it up and try again. He glances back at you a few times, as if to ask if you really wrote it. You nod, and he gets back to hunting. When the drink is nearly done he finally finds it– a tiny, careful scrawl just outside the edge of the artwork near the bottom of the cup. When he grins at you, you nod in approval, and he leaves in a better mood than he came in.

That’s the best outcome you can ask for, really.

~

He comes in at least once a week, most of the time, and you try to do little variations on each visit. The rainbow one with your new huge multi-colored pen goes over well. The attempt at calligraphy makes him smile. Once when you’re really rushed you scratch it out like a simple metal band logo. That gets a little laugh.

One day you’re out of ideas, and out of patience. Every customer is grating, and then there’s…

“How hard is it to remember Bill?” the man snaps.

“I’m sorry sir,” you say and try not to show how tired you are. You’re actually not responsible for this one, but you’re not going to throw your co-worker under the bus. Also, she wrote down ‘Will,’ and you’re having a hard time getting worked up over one letter that’s…basically the same name. But names are sensitive, and you’re really actually not trying to be an asshole. You wish other people knew that. “We’ll do better next time.”

He scoffs and opens his mouth, but there’s someone looming behind him that makes him turn. In a good flash of irony, Steve is the one staring down at him. Not threatening though– his face is more of a ‘I’m so disappointed in you’ frown and it is frighteningly effective. You haven’t even done anything wrong and suddenly you’re questioning your life choices.

Bill takes his coffee and leaves. Steve looks at you and asks, “Was I that bad?”

You shake your head. “I think we were both having a bad day,” you say and start wiping down the counter. Slowly, so you can take a moment for yourself. You don’t get many of those. “Thanks.”

“I’ve been told my ‘disappointed’ face can make almost anyone rethink what they’re doing,” he says.

You smile. “I started rethinking my life, and I wasn’t even the target,” you say and his smile is like a reward. “I’ll…try and find your drink,” you say and go to get to work. But there is no drink waiting and with some dread you come back to ask him what he ordered, because he is a good guy and damn it you’re going to fix this.

But he’s gone, and there’s a folded piece of paper on the counter that you grab and open.

“No coffee today,” reads the note that is signed “Steeb” and you roll your eyes, but it makes you smile.

“PS: Check the back”

You do, and find a little drawing of a coffee cup with your name scrawled in as part of the design. Spelled right of course. You’re not sure if that’s a passive aggressive dig, but honestly, you’ve had way worse.

You fold up the paper and put it away.

~

The next time Steve comes in it’s at a quiet part of the day, and he hands you a paper and presses a finger to his lips. You stare a bit too long at that but unfold the paper. Your name is decorated with cute cartoon flowers, and what follows is his order.

You roll your eyes but ring him up, and get to work.

The cup gets decorated with a quick hangman’s game, with some of the letters missing from his name and nearly a complete stick figure with several wrong letters to accompany the cartoon execution. (Naturally, ‘b’ is one of them.)

When Steve sees it…well, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile like that. “I’m going to feel bad throwing this one away,” he says, admiring it.

“Take a picture. Doesn’t leak as much,” you say, but his eyes light up and he actually does. “I was joking,” you say, a hand on your face.

“It was a good idea.” His grin is devious. “And embarrassed is a good look on you.”

“Uh huh,” you say and put your hand down. “Didn’t get enough of it your first time around?”

“This one’s better,” he says, taking your comment with the humor you intended.

“Right. Sure.” You start wiping up an invisible spot behind the counter. “Enjoy your coffee.”

“I always do,” he says and takes a long drink before he leaves.

It’s almost embarrassing, how much you smile the rest of your shift.

~

By now you’re well aware that ‘Steeb’ is Steve, is Steve Rogers, is Captain America, is…yeah. That guy. And you’re actually pretty relieved that it took you a while to figure it out. If you’d known from the start, your initial judgement probably would have been even harsher, and now you know he’s definitely not an ass.

This other guy though…

He looks (and acts) like a Jersey frat boy graduated to a tech bro and he’s been verbally harassing Steve for several minutes now, emboldened by his pack of cronies and the fact that Steve is just stoically taking it. Even the handful of people watching the proceedings are frowning or otherwise giving the douchebag dirty looks, but they seem to be following Steve’s lead and leaving well enough alone. Steve is sitting with his friends Sam (Falcon, he winked at you once holy shit) and Natasha (freaking Black Widow) and while Sam has attempted to diffuse the situation, Natasha has been quietly watching with light but focused interest that, if the guy was smart, should have made him crawl away with a thousand apologies by now.

Alas, he is a moron, and continues mouthing off.

Your manager finishes his phone call and turns the rest of his divided attention to focus on the…Situation. He’s frowning deep, but he just sighs. “He’s not doing anything I can kick him out for,” he grumbles.

“Hmm.” You look at the drink in your hand, and do a little double-take at the name before you realize you just misread it. However, that gives you an idea. “Hey. Your shift is almost through and you haven't taken a break yet.”

He looks at you suspiciously. Then he just looks tired as he takes off his apron. “Please, please don’t let them make me fire you.”

You flit one hand at him while you go to work with the other. “Written up maybe, but who gives a shit. Now go away; plausible deniability won’t manufacture itself.”

He rolls his eyes but he goes. You whip up the obnoxious group’s drinks, paying special attention to Guido Musk’s and making it as…pretty as possible.

When you’re done you put the drinks up, clear your throat, and in your best service-with-a-smile voice, call out, “Grunt!”

The talking stills, and you go on to rattle off his drink specifications, topping it all off with, “…and extra whip, for Grunt!”

He stalks over, scowling, and you brace yourself behind a docile smile as he hisses, “It’s Grant!”

You’d bet the nickel he tossed in the tip jar that that’s not actually his name, but you play along. “Oh! I’m so sorry,” you say and snatch the drink to give his name an exaggerated read-over. Your manager has just messy enough writing that the ‘a’ doesn’t quite close, so your alibi is solid. “Oh, I see, you’re completely right! I’m sorry, I misread it; that’s my bad,” you say and hand it over to him.

He's still glaring. “Who the hell gets called ‘Grunt?’”

“Sir, I’ve written cups for ‘Batman’ and ‘Spock.’” You shrug. “I don’t judge; however someone knows their order is fine.” You smile brightly at him. “Please enjoy your drink!” You then call out the rest of his friends’ orders, and go to the register to help a serendipitously-timed new customer. He pouts and hovers a little longer, but Steve is visibly more relaxed, smirking into his cup as his friends smile and stand down, and even the people who had been watching are now looking at Grant and whispering or laughing with their tablemates. So when one friend claps his shoulder and they all start to leave, he follows.

“Bye Grunt!” Sam calls out cheerfully as he passes through the door, and you duck your head behind the espresso machine as half the store laughs out loud. That is definitely going to get you a complaint, but it’s hard to be too mad about it. Once you’re composed enough not to crack you lift your head, but thankfully Grant is gone. You resolve to do everything in your power to avoid answering the phone today. …Even more than usual.

Later, it’s near close and Steve and his friends are among some of the last to leave. But he stops by the counter. “Thanks,” he says.

“For what?” you say with as much innocence as you can muster. Sam snorts and Natasha rolls her eyes, but Steve smiles. You drop the act and shrug your shoulder. “For the record,” you say, “–there is a difference between an accident, and being petty.”

Steve’s smile shifts more to one side. “Oh, I think I get it by now.” He then grins and says, “I guess it’s a good thing I never tried to use my middle name.”

You snort and shake your head. Natasha tilts hers. “Are you going to get in trouble for that?” she asks casually.

The mood drops a little. Sure, you won’t lose your job, but getting called in front of the manager –even the nice one– sucks. You shrug again, trying to keep it relaxed. “He left too fast to complain, but he might call tomorrow. We’ll see.” Steve and Sam frown deeply, like they hadn’t thought of that, and despite everything it makes you smile a little. “Relax; we’re perpetually understaffed. I’ll just get written up. It’s no big deal.”

“Still,” Steve says and looks at you with a very earnest expression that almost brings you up short. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” you say, and wince at the thought of him going up the chain and making more of a mess. You shake your head definitively. “Trust me, it’s fine. I misread a name. Happens all the time.” You give Steve a look with raised eyebrows. “Happens almost as much as mishearing a customer’s name.”

He blushes. Blushes. But before he can say anything else, Natasha hooks her arm in his, says, “Have a good night,” and leaves with him in hand and Sam following bemusedly behind.

You look around the dirty shop and sigh. Back to work.

~

After a week Grant-Grunt hasn’t come back, hasn’t called, and you’re just starting to relax when you see him walking past the window just outside. He lifts his head, you freeze, braced for the confrontation, but his eyes widen and he…bolts. Literally, actually, runs.

You blink, and suddenly jolt when one of the customers taking an easy morning is suddenly right at the counter. “Sorry; I didn’t see y–”

It’s Natasha. Smiling patiently as she holds her nearly-empty cup up for a refill. Your mouth works ineffectively to ask her how and when, but reflexively you take the cup, and then immediately check it. That’s her name, in your handwriting. You take a moment to reboot. “How do you do that?”

“Trade secret,” she replies with mild amusement. “Has he made a complaint?”

You shake your head. “Haven't heard a word.”

“Good.” Her smile grows. It’s sort of terrifying. And really hot. “The dark roast is very good today. May I have a refill?”

“Yes ma’am,” you say and immediately go to give her a whole new cup. You resolve to give her anything she asks for. And spell her name right. Every time.

~

You’re waiting for a sandwich you ordered in a busy shop when someone big bumps into you. As you’re starting to turn it is a familiar voice that starts apologizing profusely with, “I am so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

Steve stops when you face him. He actually even squints a little, which makes you laugh. “Am I really that strange looking without an apron?”

He smiles. “I’ve never seen you outside of work.”

“Town is smaller than I thought,” you say and both of you just…stand there for a few seconds.

Then your number is called, and you go to get your sandwich. You come back to where Steve is, just because…well, you don’t know why. He was just surprised to see you outside of work. There’s no reason he would still want to see you. But here you are.

“Apparently I’m not that far behind you,” he says and glances around. “Are you…staying to eat?”

You bob your head, for lack of anything else to do. “I was planning on it.”

“Do you want to share a table?” he says. “It’s pretty busy in here.”

Something in you flips. “That’d be great.”

He smiles. “Yeah?” He then looks around, and points out a table in the corner. “How about there?”

“I’ll be waiting,” you say and go to claim the space. He comes over maybe just a minute later, and as you’re unwrapping your food, you admit, “I sort of wish we could get away with assigning numbers.”

“I don’t know. I’m really partial to the names,” Steve says and gives you a devious little smile over his sandwich.

“Yeah, now you are,” you say, maybe overly teasing just to make sure he gets it. Now’s a good time for a sincere apology, and though part of you rails against it for an honest mistake, you manage to quash it down and say, “I don’t know if I’ve said it yet, but just to put it out there– I am sorry for screwing up your name that first time. The shop gets loud and I have seen a lot of names, and even the ‘usual’ ones sometimes get spelled differently. I wasn’t trying to be an asshole.”

He ducks his head and quickly finishes the bite he’s just taken. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed malice; I just…” He looks away. You want to tell him he doesn’t have to explain, but…maybe he wants to. He looks at you again. “People get weird, sometimes, when they see me,” he says with a slight flush of embarrassment. “And it’s all ‘Cap’ this and ‘Cap’ that, so I…I just like hearing my name, you know?”

You nod. “Names are important,” you say and take a bite. He smiles slightly at your easy acceptance, and you both settle in for a nice lunch, and some good company.

~

It has been a good week, relatively, and the next time he shows up at the shop you're all set, writing ‘Steeb’ with some stars and quickly poorly drawn flags around it, but your new co-worker appears suddenly and swoops in just as you finish with the pen, spiriting the cup away and giving Steve a brilliant smile as she starts making his drink. Steve blinks, and since she can’t see your face from this angle, you give him a look begging him to put you out of your misery.

He smiles sympathetically, dumps a bigger tip in the jar, and moves away. You go pick up the forgotten pastry your co-worker had been getting for another customer, slip it in the wrapper, hand it over, and go to await your reaction just as she finishes cleaning the cup. She instinctively looks at the name as she starts to make the call, then stops suddenly and stares at you like you’re crazy. You gesture at the cup. “He’ll understand. Trust me.”

She shakes her head, then smiles brightly at Steve and chirps, “Your drink’s ready, Cap!”

You roll your eyes as Steve comes to the pick-up with a polite smile that’s definitely tinged with disappointment. But then he turns the cup to see his name, smiles a little more for real, and, despite the expression not budging an inch, tries to scowl at you. “A repeat already?” he asks with a likewise lame attempt at chiding.

“A callback,” you correct. “It’s sweet.”

“If you say so,” he says and picks up his drink. “I hope for a little more creativity next time.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” you say. You’ve been saving the katakana for a special occasion, but if he insists. Then again maybe the ‘b’ sound would be too repetitive so soon? Perhaps it’s time to practice the comic sans idea. You’ll think more about it, later. “Have a nice day, Steve.”

His real smile is so nice. “You too,” he says, with a gentle addition of your name, merely tilts his head respectfully at your co-worker, and leaves.

Said co-worker gapes. You reach around her for a rag and go to clean up some of the milk she spilled since you already know she won’t do it herself. “You have an in-joke with Captain America?” she asks, following along.

“No,” you say. “I have an in-joke with Steve.”

She blinks. “What’s the difference?” She then gets called over by the manager, huffs a put-upon sigh, and toddles off. You shrug. She probably wouldn’t get it anyway. But that’s okay. Steve does, and that’s all that matters.

[halfetirosie]

°˖❀ Gather around, children! Time to talk about Responsible Drug Use and Consent! ❀˖°

(Elysium 06-07 React-os!)

1) Eiden over here getting his line of thinking corrupted by Kuya 😂

Idk if "boring" is the right term, but yeah, that sort of thing doesn't really fit his style.

Although, if asked directly I wouldn't put it past Kuya to claim it's "too boring," but I don't think that's his actual reason. I suspect that there really are some lines he won't cross, even if he won't admit it.... But hey, who knows!

2) Always remember: if something seems too good to be true, it probably is! There's always a catch!

Good on you, Olivine! Good job on not being naiive!

I think this section may be hinting at my theory about "freebies?" As in, Elysium gets you hooked by saying you only have to pay a fee to get into the club but they give the drug away for free, but then once you're addicted you have to pay for each individual pill too? Or something like that? 🤔

That's how they get you. They provide it for free/reduced prices until you develop dependence, then you have to start paying more; by the time you realize you're addicted, it's too late!

Addiction is scary, ya'll.

:(

3) Eiden, what the hell???

It wasn't that long ago that you said the way this drug is being distributed wasn't Kuya's style! What happened???

Come on, bro. Sometime I really hate Kuya, but give hime a little benefit of the doubt! Damn...

4) YOOOO WTF?!?!?!?!?!

( ⊙ ᗣ ⊙ )

This is so scary and sad... These people are so obsessed with this drug, they'll act like literal starving animals just get it.... And in HELLA unsafe ways.

THIS IS A ONE-WAY TICKET TO OVERDOSING!!!!!!

I AM SO FUCKIN MAD!!! I ALREADY KNEW THIS CLUB WAS EVIL, BUT THIS IS A WHOLE OTHER LEVEL OF IRRESPONSIBLE. FUCK!!!!!

Kids, whenever taking drugs (recreational or otherwise), ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS follow the dosage instructions...

5) Yeah, this is a fairly apt description of the Vampire Bitch...

Although, I think calling him "somewhat sickly" is a HUGE understatement. Look at how fucked up and weird his fingertips are! And the GRAY skin!!!! He's "youthful" but also three steps away from death, dude....Hence, I have declared him Vampire Bitch.

But seeing how Eiden considers him "youthful," does that mean Reverie actually does make people live forever? Or at least slow down the aging process or something? 🤔 Very confused on how all that works...

6) I WILL END YOU, VAMPIRE BITCH!!!! GET YOUR NASTY FUCKING EYES OFF OF OLIVINE!!!!!

🔥🔪🔥🔪🔥🔪🔥🔪🔥🔪🔥🔪🔥🔪🔥🔪🔥🔪🔥

I still cannot believe Vampire Bitch has the AUDACITY to try pimping Olivine out. 🤬🤬🤬

Olivine has a helluva lot of admirers, but story-wise, I think this is the first time an actual FUCKING CREEP targeted him specifically, you know? In a criminal/non-consensual way. Unless there's something like that in intimacy rooms that I don't know about?

Idk if Olivine has just been lucky, or if others are too scared of his strength to target him like this, or what....

Well, this whole situation just makes me SICK....

7) HELL YEAH, FOXY GRANDPA TO THE RESCUE!!!!

Did I already know the devs would make Kuya show up to save Eiden? Yes.

Am I still VISCERALLY RELIEVED? ABSOLUTELY.

8) The heroic return of the Super-Super-Rare

★ Responsible Kuya ★ !!!!!!!

SEE???? EVEN THE FOXY BASTARD KNOWS THE IMPORTANCE OF CONSENT!!!!

Dude, you KNOW something is FUCKED UP with you if KUYA is more decent in comparison...

Real talk, It's honestly REFRESHING AS FUCK seeing Kuya act like this.

Like, yeah, he can be a real asshole and a menace sometimes, but that's typically on a very small scale; making jokes in bad taste or messing with people one-on-one.

It seems that, when it comes to larger-scale issues---in this case, the operation of a club and distribution of drugs---he might still have a bad attitude, but he's at least reasonable. Just like in Forest Carnival; they were holding a party to help improve human/yokai relations, and though Kuya did act like a dick, he didn't sabotage things.

Current Kuya is a menace, but he really isn't a danger to the public; not like Past Kuya, who had no issues raising absolute HELL in Saia.

9) Signing off on a confusing not, here---

Is "don't actually fall asleep" in reference to how Kuya wants Eiden to act after swallowing the [fake] pill???? Like, I assume it's a fake pill since the text after this says that the drug doesn't have an effect on Eiden---so is Kuya hinting for Eiden to pretend like he's high, but to not literally pretend to fall asleep? Or is this a hint for something else?

....Or am I just an idiot? Tune in next time to find out!

🦋 End of report! 🦋

[tauforged]

like the thing that i think a lot of ppl gloss over is that a large majority of the talon aligned heroes have little to no interest in the actual ‘goals’ of the organization (to the point where we still don’t entirely know what talon wants or why they exist, lmfao) so much as it just being a means to an end. like we can all conceptualize that sombra is pretty much just there because it gives her access to more resources she can use towards her own goals, moira is there for research opportunities and funding that she’d never get elsewhere due to the nature of her work, i can only imagine that ramattra’s alliance with talon (and thus null sector’s as a whole) is purely situational because it provides advantages he considers useful, reaper is pretty much just there because they’re against overwatch therefore he can use it as an avenue for his revenge, even doomfist doesn’t really seem to hold as much stock in talon as an organization as he does use his position as a tool to achieve his goals, if it stopped being useful he would likely just walk away.

in opposition to the overwatch aligned heroes who all seem to be coming together solely for the sake of this like, ideal of Overwatch as a concept being this paradigm of good and justice and doing what’s right, and rallying behind their faith in the organization and what it symbolizes… i genuinely don’t think any of the talon operatives really care all that much about talon at all. it’s just a job. like, sure, we’re doing cartoon supervillain shit, but the pay is decent and we’ve got benefits and i can continue to do my own thing on the side, no questions asked. it’s honestly a pretty sweet deal.

all of that to say i really don’t see why people seem so averse to the idea of sigma having that same mindset. like yeah, he’s not exactly thrilled to be using his research and abilities to assist in acts of violent terrorism, but does he have many other options? he says it himself in that interaction with baptiste, talon gives him everything he needs - funding, resources, something to fall back on after being in total isolation for decades and coming out with absolutely nothing. it’s a guaranteed safety net — so long as he’s with talon, there’s absolutely no chance of anyone dragging him off or locking him up again, and so long as he contributes when he’s needed, he’s free to pursue his research to his heart’s content. does he regret it? sure, sometimes. i think they all do. i doubt there’s a single talon-aligned hero who genuinely believes what they’re doing is genuinely morally correct and sound. but ultimately in his mind he didn’t have many options left, so he had to settle for something he knew would at least guarantee his safety and continued freedom. it doesn’t really mean he’s being manipulated or held against his will any moreso than most of the other talon heroes, imho. he’s not proud of it, but hey, it pays the bills.

i feel like he regards it with a similar level of resentment/annoyance as i felt towards my horrible soul sucking corporate retail job of several years - like don’t get me wrong, the company i worked for absolutely sucked and i HATED how they operated, policy was bullshit and so much of it was unnecessary and needlessly counterproductive. but i also really connected with my coworkers in the same situation AND i got to get paid to do stuff i already would have been doing on my own anyway, and ultimately the experience i got and connections i made were really helpful in pursuing what i actually wanted to be doing with my life. it’s like if your shitty day job required you to kill people but they also like, got you hooked up with a place to live and a healthcare provider and all that shit and paid for all of your living expenses no questions asked AND gave you a decent budget to screw around with so long as every now and then you showed them what you were making and maybe used it to kill people more efficiently sometimes. i wouldn’t exactly feel any amount of loyalty to the company paying me but i wouldn’t exactly be in a hurry to quit either

[starry-p]

Mini Horror Egg ADOPTS INFO:

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Payments will be through PayPal

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You won’t know what the character looks like until its finished and I give it to you.

The design will be a completely random surprise!

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NO HOLDS!: IF YOU ARE ABLE , PLEASE PAY FOR THE EGGS YOU CLAIM RIGHT AWAY!

If you claim eggs to buy / you must pay for them within 2-3 days upon claiming them.

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1: CLOSED

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3: OPEN

4: OPEN

5: CLOSED

6: CLOSED

7: OPEN

8: CLOSED

[romana-after-dark]

How is the rewrite of tww coming along?

Genuinely so sorry but this and on I can’t tell if it’s being asked genuinely or not LMFAO 😭😭 it almost reads sarcastic but I think that’s bc I’m so used to passive aggressive anons lolololol

But I’m gonna give the benefit of the doubt and answer genuinely that honestly not too bad!!

I took time off from fanfiction a few months ago bc school and all the drama here and I was able to get started, which is often the hardest part for me

I made a couple of changes. The biggest one of course is going to be about pacing because I think the story ended up being 10 chapters but that’s because I know that holding onto people readership in fanfiction can be hard especially because I’m not the most consistent poster, however With the novel, I can write so much more!!!

I think “stolen lullaby” (TWW). is going to be much longer than Mariposa will be because there’s just so much that I want to do correctly to properly pull off that ending

That’s another thing that’s changing as the end. Some of it will stay, but obviously one of those two big pot twist won’t make any sense if it’s a novel instead of fanfiction.

Another change is little ones relationships with the men in the house. Lorenzo and her enemies to friendship arc will be more prominent and better paste and will get to see Lorenzo and Zack‘s side of them falling in love.

Jack will have more of a character arc originally I was just mentioning someone named Jack just in case I needed a side character with the name as I was writing the series and ended up being very helpful. The scene where Jack decides to help little one was initially going to be Lorenzo. I was going to make Lorenzo a bit more of a “just about money“ But sometimes the characters speak to you didn’t end up like that. Lorenzo ended up pretty quickly about little one. I want to have Jack be more of that neutral character in the way that and Lorenzo just couldn’t be.

I think Mariposa will be out first however it’s gonna be a shorter book and although it will have dark themes is not as dark as the wrong way and I don’t have to carefully pay attention to Joel every single word and action or Tommy or Lorenzo. It’s just not as intense or has in depth. More of a standard dark romance versus “stolen lullaby” Joel is very confusing and isn’t meant to be the good guy

Anyway, if you sent that sarcastically because I posted about Mariposa, then this is an embarrassingly long response LMFAO

If you ask, but you don’t really care that much this is embarrassing

But y’all know I like to ramble

[folkloristico]

😭 angst or sad WIP snippet

🤩 a WIP snippet about or with dialogue from Griffin

Thank you for the ask! (And please do ignore how much time it took me to respond, lol)

🤩 a WIP snippet about or with dialogue from Griffin

For a long moment, silence enveloped them like a cloak. Faragonda’s eyes were wide as she stared at her, struggling with her words. “You shouldn’t be made to pay for my mistakes,” she said at last, her voice unremarkably soft-spoken. Griffin drew in a deep breath. “I am not,” she said. “You’re right; Bloom is your responsibility. Not because of the past, but because she’s a student at your school. Just as the Trix were mine. I gave them the benefit of the doubt. I was trying to protect them from the Council, but as I did so, I failed to protect your students from them, and I’m willing to face responsibility for that. Hopefully, the Council won’t hold a grudge against Cloud Tower.” Faragonda scoffed. “They already do, long before you stepped in.” Her frustration almost sounded jarring to her ears considering she was the fairy and Griffin was the witch. “Of course they do,” Griffin said, surprised to find her voice so calm. “Only now I have given them a reason to act on it.” And she wouldn’t stand by watching her students suffer for it. “Don’t try to argue me out of it.” Faragonda pursed her lips. “As if I could ever.” She could, actually. She was the only person who could; had been for a very long time. No one had ever had such a strong hold over her—not Marion, with her kindness and undevoted friendship. Not even Valtor. 

From a WIP post-season 1 where I assume the punishment faced by the Trix would be different from canon. I also don’t like how both Griffin and Faragonda came out of it looking like incompetents, so I’m trying to fix that.

😭 angst or sad WIP snippet

Heroes. That was what everybody had called them after the war. An act of solemnity, as most people intended it; but to her, it had seemed as an attempt to bury away their guilt, hide it under empty words. Faragonda didn’t know if she wasn’t guilty of it herself. A tentative smile touched her lips. “I know many people think of them that way,” she said, “but I don’t think they would appreciate the sentiment.”  Nor did she like the implication of Vanessa thinking of Marion and Oritel that way, as if she were downplaying her importance in Bloom’s life because, unlike them, she hadn’t saved anyone. (Only that she had. Both she and her husband had. By taking Bloom in, by loving her as their own, Mike and Vanessa had fulfilled Marion’s wish more than Faragonda ever could.) “They did what they did out of love, mostly.” Vanessa nodded. “I am so sorry for what happened to them and their child,” she said in a low voice. “No one deserves that.” It took Faragonda a moment to realize that by child, Vanessa was referring to Daphne. She… hadn’t been expecting it, but she couldn’t help agreeing. She had known Daphne before and during the war, and the consequences brought upon her had been impossible to leave unnoticed. More than anything else, Faragonda had been struck by Griffin’s comment about how Daphne had seemed the one who’d suffered the most because of it, and sometimes, Faragonda wondered whether she hadn’t been right after all. Bloom hadn’t been raised with a war raging to her door nor had she carried the burden of the crown that had scarred Marion more than she’d always cared to show. As much as the circumstances had been unfortunate, Faragonda was glad Bloom had been granted the blessing of a loving family and a normal childhood.

This is basically a private confrontation between Faragonda and Vanessa after Bloom is attacked by the Trix, which I believe is very much needed at this point. I also love giving Mike and Vanessa the appreciation they deserve!

[nuri148]

Great points! I think it's worth mentioning that, while ACWNR was "elevated to canon" when the Image of Erwin holding the blade Levi was trying to kill him with was included in a flashback in the manga, ACWNR is a separate story not written by Isayama. Therefore including elements from it in AoT could either confuse readers who haven't read ACWNR (I hate to break it to you, but most people who read a story/watch a show do not become delulu fans. They just read/see it to pass the time.), or even have legal implications re. the copyright of F&I.

As for worldbuilding and character setting, the shortcomings Lucy describes are hardly exclusive from Isayama. For one thing, cutting corners in that sense is a fairly common thing in storytelling. Does any character reference any friends outside of the manga characters? No. Family members are vague mentions. Focusing in the story you are telling means omitting a lot of details that, while might enrich the narrative, could also distract from it —again, a majority of readers don't pay attention to these things or find them downright boring—they just wanna see Eren and Reiner beating the shit out of each other.

Which brings me to another key factor: AoT was published periodically in a shounen magazine. You can't draw more panels/pages that the ones the editors assigned you, and the middle school teens that the magazine is marketed to don't give a shit about establishing character; they want to see Eren and Reiner beating the shit our of each other. So if you need to produce a chapter that's 50% titans fighting, you don't have physical time and space to insert a sequence of Erwin's morning grooming routine. (I recall reading complaints about the daily life scenes in CSM which, if you ask me, are amazing).

So in that sense, I am willing to grant Yams the benefit of the doubt. We are so used to bloggers and social media content creators doing their thing now, it's easy to forget that authors in tradpub need to adapt to a lot of editors and market requirements in order to be published, often in detriment of the story they want to tell—hence the "director's cut" features sometimes years after the original release, if said director is still salty enough and has gained enough fame and money to produce their own re-release.

What do you think about Levi not mentioning Farlan and Isabel throughout the anime? They were literally his first real friends and family. Even in their deaths he was frustrated. But strangely we don't see any flashback scenes about them or Levi talking about them. It's obviously disturbing to me.

I have an Oc an underground childhood friend that I ship with Levi in particular and I didn't write their story down, but it makes me think that if my character was in danger or if she died with Farlan and Isabel or if she ended up dying long after their deaths, Levi would never remember her or talk about her, just like Farlan and Isabel's deaths, and that bothers me.

I know it's a bit strange to get this kind of analysis-like question since you are a Levi writer's blog. But since I love your writings and I really liked and found comfort in your answer to anon's question about whether Levi likes weak people. Because I am also a person who gets caught up in rumors and doubts whether Levi will like us or not haha.

Anyway, I don't want to deviate too much from the subject and make it too weird. You can answer question if you want.

Hi, sweetie! Oh, I see. Yes, I understand where you're coming from. First of all, I'd like to thank you for saying that you love my writing, and I'm so happy you found comfort in my answer about Levi and a "weak person." It's alright that we get lost in what the fandom discusses too frequently; it has happened to me too. And do not worry, rest assured, I don't find these "analysis questions" weird at all. Though my analysis will never be as good as my close friends', like my friend Sushi who used to have a meta-analysis blog of SnK or Cosmic! They are beyond amazing.

But to answer your question, before I get lost in my thoughts, long story short, Isayama is extremely bad at writing emotional connections in my humble opinion. In my personal group chat with my SnK close friends, we discuss this in great detail at least twice per week haha. In my opinion, Isayama is a writer or a storyteller who struggles to find a balance between keeping the plot going and creating a cohesive society and interrelationships between characters. I personally think that the story was always advancing so fast, full gas, no stop, that we hardly got any real details about the characters that made them human beyond their mere roles in the story.

I always use as an example, if one chapter in the manga or anime started with different panels of the veterans getting ready and sitting down all together for a meeting, we could have seen how their personal chambers were, how their interactions were not only between them aside the presence of the cadets, but we could have also seen how they confront early mornings, if they had paintings of loved ones, flowers on their desks, etc. It would have taken ... 5-10 pages at most, and we could have learned so much. It's something I even keep in mind while planning my own stories; I have an entire notebook of "backstory" for all the characters of Holy Ground, canon or not. So when the time comes around, I can drop little details of their lives here and there because... Let's be honest, has someone ever sat down next to you and said "here, let me tell you my whole life"? No, usually, you get to know someone organically, and that's also what, in my opinion, should happen in stories.

Now, going back to why Levi doesn't talk about Farlan and Isabel. Well, my best answer to you is, sadly, another question. Tell me one scene in the whole anime or manga where Levi was having some quality time with someone he felt comfortable enough to open up and talk about fond memories, be vulnerable, or even crack a joke about some silly hormonal stuff he did as a young man with Farlan. Tell me, I will wait... Haha.

Levi doesn't talk about Farlan or Isabel because he doesn't have screen time to talk about almost anything besides the plot moving haha. I would put my hands on a burning fire and swear that Farlan and Isabel are still extremely important to Levi! And so would be your OC! Don't let Isayama's literary limitations fence your story. That's my best advice; explore feelings that he didn't have the production time for (perhaps he wasn't allowed to write about it because of financial stuff) or he simply wasn't good at it.

Hope that helps!

Love ya!

[missmeinyourbones]

IF YOU SQUINT, THE LINING IS SILVER 

a/n: wc 2.5k, based on a prompt from a list i can’t find but if i do i will link it! something along the lines of “fighting a stranger for the last bottle of wine at the grocery store” LOL

Sometimes, a bottle of wine is all it takes to solve your problems–or at least dull them enough to make them tolerable.

The past few days have been horrendous, a true burden to the roulette that is the game of life. Your washing machine breaking, a so-called friend gossiping about your love life (or lack thereof), a parking ticket charged to your vehicle demanding a ridiculous amount of money to the town, all leading up to the real kicker of the week–getting laid off from your lousy (but decently-paying) office job at the end of your Friday workday. 

After the longest week of your life, followed by the worst shift in all of recorded history, all you want to do is drown your sorrows in a bottle of red. 

Or white, or pink. Truthfully, you’re in no position to be picky. After all, beggars can’t be choosers.

That’s how you ended up here, sluggishly ghosting between the aisles of your local grocery market like a zombie with one thing on the brain.

The store is tiny, cozy. A simple family owned mom-and-pop with little selection, but often supplies noble finds at reasonable prices. Their alcohol selection is normally on the sparser side, but after what appears to be a rather successful week in liquor sales, it borders on barren as your heart sinks with disappointment. 

Suddenly, you see it. A glimmer of hope while approaching the seemingly empty shelves. 

A lone glass bottle twinkles in the reflection of the fluorescent lights from above, tucked away in the corner of the wooden ledge as if waiting for you to pluck it from where it sits and give it a new home in the warmth of your gut. 

It plays out like a movie’s climax; you can see the bottle, feel the glass smooth in your palm, practically taste the sweet syrup as you inch closer and closer and closer and–

“Woah–!”

A large hand collides with yours, clumsy and clanky as you both simultaneously reach for the lonely bottle on the shelf. Your fingers brush for mere seconds before you instinctually flinch away from the foreign intrusion of touch.

A stranger stands to the right of you, seemingly sharing your brilliant idea of snagging the market’s last bottle of sparking white wine.  

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” you begin to apologize, turning to the culprit who stands in the way of you and potentially the only positive thing to come you’re way this week.

The man’s tone is light and airy as he grabs the bottle, reading it’s label with a laugh, “Don’t be. Great minds must think alike, huh?”

You lift your chin to get a good look at him, and he’s surely a sight to see. He’s tall, almost alarmingly so as he towers over where you crawl between the stacked bags of chips and cookies lining the walls. A pair of dark sunglasses sits perched on the bridge of his nose, and you ignore the criticizing voice in the back of your mind that labels it a douchey move to be wearing them inside. 

Give him the benefit of doubt, you try to remind yourself. You don’t know this man.

Your slight optimism goes right out the window when he continues to hold the bottle as if he’s already purchased the item as his own, swaying it with his arm from side to side like the half-gallon jug weighs nothing in his hold. 

The awkward silence festers between the two of you as if you're blushing students waiting for the other's first move, dancing around one another’s footsteps in a crowded school hallway. 

You’re the first to clear the air, awkwardly gesturing to the light Moscato he clutches, “Are—are you—?” 

You don’t have to finish your question for him to read between the lines.

Still, he has the audacity to look surprised when you point to where he holds he bottle. He raises his eyebrows, almost as if silently challenging you to clarify your intent. 

“Am I what?” he lightly encourages. 

“I mean…” your patience wears thin as your attention returns to the wine with a humorless laugh, “we both grabbed it at the same time.” 

The store is practically empty, other than a handful of employees and your silent showdown happening towards the building’s back corner. From your peripheral, you see a woman in uniform mopping tiles along the floor. Her presence reminds you that it is almost 8 PM, she’s probably preparing for closing any minute now.  

The (handsome) stranger before you continues to stand his ground. “Yeah,” he agrees with ease before stating the obvious, “but you let go first.”

You click your tongue in disbelief at his gall. Whoever this man is, he’s picked the wrong person to argue with, right now. 

No longer anxious and now decently irritated, your tone comes out harsh and sarcastic. It hits him, cold. 

“That tends to be the gut reaction when you accidentally brush hands with a stranger.”

The store echoes with a silence that should be lethal, the only noises being the dull humming of the freezers from the backroom and the squeaking of a dry mop against the floor. 

“Really?” the man faux wonders with mockery. “Weird, my reaction is to grab on even tighter.” 

As if rubbing salt in the wound, he shakes the bottle around as evidence and you visibly cringe at the roughness of the motion. After the week you’ve had, you should be the one holding that bottle, treating its contents with the utmost care and respect. 

You wordlessly size him up for a moment before weighing your options:

You could cause a scene, get an employee involved and feign a victim as you childishly point fingers to the man in front of you. 

You could be the bigger person, head held high as you turn around and leave with your tail between your legs. 

You could rip the bottle from his grip–but he could be stronger than you. He’s a stranger, potentially a psycho who could genuinely hurt you over something as silly as a grocery store argument. 

Not loving your odds, you conclude with agitation, “So, you’re not gonna let me have it.”

Though technically a question, your tone leaves little room for him to debate.

The stranger's head slightly tilts to the side, making him instantly appear with an innocence ten years younger. “I never said that,” he shakes his head. 

His tone is borderline cocky, teasing almost, as he practically waves the bottle in front of your face. He’s tempting you, eager to see how far you're willing to go for this cheap bottle of wine–for what reason, you’re not too sure. But after the week you’ve had, something in you doesn't want to give up just yet. 

“Look,” your fingers squeeze the bridge of your nose before lowering your voice to an urgent whisper, “I really need that wine.”

He snorts, “What are you, an alcoholic?”

You rub the tension brewing in your sinuses, “I might become one after this conversation.”

The man sighs in faux disappointment before tsking your way. “In that case,” he swirls the bottle once more, “I probably shouldn’t be enabling you.”

“Well, why do you need it so badly?” you borderline snap out of frustration. 

His face lights up in the slightest, sunglasses falling slightly to reveal the glimmer of excitement swimming in the blues of his eyes. He presses his tongue flat against his bitten cheek, a lazy attempt to hide his clear enthusiasm at your little outburst.

With a smirk, he simply shrugs. “Had a bad day,” he reasons with no real conviction. 

Your head falls back in despair as your eyes stare directly into the harsh lighting hanging from the ceiling of the building. With any luck, it’ll render you blind and remove you from finishing this conversation. 

With a pathetic grumble, you whimper beneath a sigh, “I’m willing to bet mine was worse.”

Handsome Stranger fails to fight off another grin. “Convince me,” he breathes. 

“I’m sorry?”

“Convince me to let you have this bottle of wine,” he enunciates the words, dragging them out slowly as if his pronunciation was what beckoned you to ask him to repeat the foolish request. 

Too far into the argument to care, you swallow your pride in a struggling gulp. You’ve already come this far for the lousy bottle, what’s a little bit of begging? Hell, within the time you’ve spent arguing with this guy, you could’ve driven to an actual liquor store across town and purchased an authentic wine for twice the price. You decide that you’re leaving this store with that bottle, or you’ve failed in every meaning of the word. 

Finding his eyes, you bare your teeth in a growl, “I got fired today.”

“Ooof,” his lips contort to a pout as he winces with a phony sympathy. When your expression doesn’t budge in the slightest, he readjusts himself in surprise, “Wait, actually?”

“Yes,” you grit through clenched teeth.

He tugs on his lower lip, and you hate that it’s almost distracting you from your anger. “Was it deserved?” he beckons. 

You wince once more, “If it was, would I be putting up this much of a fight for a cheap bottle of wine?”

Now, it’s Handsome Stranger who’s sizing you up with a skeptical glare. “Touché,” he nods and your heart beams, but it’s short-lived as he quickly elaborates, “but I’m not fully convinced just yet.”

Your voice squeaks out in an exhausted plea, “What more do you want from me?” 

Almost condescendingly, the man leans down to be level with your height. He raises his eyebrows and squeezes in a saccharinely sweet voice, “A smile wouldn’t hurt.”

As if that’s all it took to pluck your last straw, his simple request ignites something rotten inside of you.

“Fine,” you scowl, readjusting your bag and turning your back to the asshole before calling out a bitter, “enjoy your nine-dollar wine.”

Clunky footsteps hurry behind you and the man slowly jogs around in front of you, preventing you from leaving the aisle with a pathetic frown curving on his lips.

“Hey, hey,” his solid stance ushers you to a halt before he waves a white flag, “you win.”

You eye him up and down, unimpressed with the riddle at hand. “What’s the catch?”  

“Lemme buy it for you,” he uses his free hand to scratch his neck, “seeing how I’m guessing you won’t be getting a paycheck this week.”

“Oh, that’s low.”

“Too soon, huh?”

His defeated tone has you chuckling beneath your breath. Though still weary of the offer before you, the hostility slowly flees from the situation at hand. Seeing your lingering hesitancy, he gestures back to the bottle in his palm. 

“Really though, I mean it. Consider it a thank you for dealing with my antics.” 

If that's the case, then he owes you more than a bottle of wine, the voice in your head snarls. Eyes still suspicious, you slowly nod your head, “Sure.”

The man’s grin grows from ear to ear as he nods his head at your acceptance. “Great!” he bounces a bit too enthusiastically, “I’ll let you finish shopping, meet me at the storefront in five?”

You nod once more before turning around to leave the aisle. The two of you take a combined five steps before you’re met with realization. With a sudden urgency, you whip your head back in his direction. 

“Wait,” you call to him from the opposite end of the aisle. He’s quick to turn around, smile still adorning his face and now paired with (what looks like) a blush. You narrow your eyes at him, “How do I know you’re not just gonna buy the wine and run?”

His nose scrunches as his hand jerks over his heart. “You wound me,” he whimpers with a smirk.

He jogs back over to you, not thinking twice as he hands you his luxury car keys, “I’ll need those before I leave.”

The metal is cold in your palm, the rings jingle together as he plops them down into your hand. Leaving with nothing but a charming wink, he disappears around the corner of the aisle and towards the front of the store. 

A bit overwhelmed, you mindlessly pick up a few things before making your way to checkout. The cashier shoots you a polite smile before ringing up your items: a new sponge for your kitchen sink, a cherry-flavored energy drink, a green patterned lighter, a pack of peppermint gum. 

You're not sure what you expect when walking through the automatic doors and out into the parking lot, but you're met with surprise when the man stands whistling against the side of the building’s brick, with a bag hanging loosely in between his fingers. 

He trots his way over to where you stand in front of the market’s display window. Coming beneath the warmth of the streetlights, the expression on his face is tender and hospitable–he wears a delicate grin that tickles the depths of your stomach.

“Here is your liquid gold, m’lady,” he presents the paper bag to you with a smug sense of pride, “all nine dollars worth of it.”

You accept the bag from his hand with a soft smile. Though clearly tired and worrisome, he thinks the flash of appreciation looks good on you. The stranger nervously shifts his weight where he stands on the sidewalk cement.

“I hope it does the job,” he adds on, and though the situation is silly, his tone carries a sincerity foreign to you. 

“Thanks,” you exhale in relief, before pulling his leg as he begins to walk away. “I hope next time you fight a stranger over the last bottle of wine in the grocery store, you actually get to leave with it.”

He laughs through a giddy smile, one that oozes a contagiously boyish charm, before turning around with a bounce. 

“If that’s the case,” he allows his eyes to drop to where his shoe kicks a rock across the cement, “then I hope the next stranger is you again.”

You crack open the sealed brown paper bag, half intrigued and half actually checking to see if the handsomely irritating man kept up his end of the deal. You sigh in relief–the wine sits happily in the paper where it belongs. However, there are more items scattered throughout the lining of the bag.

You almost call out to him, to flag him down and let him know he forgot his own purchases in the midst of your bickering. However, the contents of the bag make your mouth run dry. A thin bouquet of sunset colored tulips rustles against the cool glass of the bottle. There's a chocolate bar from the checkout sidelines with a receipt covering its brand name. You grab the paper, smoothing it out with your thumb in hopes of reading the cost of the purchase. Instead, your eyes instantly fall to the messy handwriting at the bottom of the receipt. 

“For making my day that a little bit better - Satoru” 

The note is scribbled in the whites of the margins, along with a shaky smiley face and an honest phone number. 

The stranger is nowhere to be found when you finally take in your surroundings. Though your eyes are still dripping with exhaustion, the name Satoru sits on your tongue like a silver lining to the end of your week.

[allthingsfangirl101]

The Visitor–Steve Harrington

"Really?"

I walked into the shop as soon as it opened. Normally, this kind of response to a customer would've fired the worker. Not this time. Not with Steve Harrington.

To give him the benefit of the doubt, I constantly came to Scoops Ahoy, but not to eat ice cream. To tease him.

Steve and I have been best friends since we were little. We were inseparable all through elementary school. In middle school, he started playing basketball but still made time for me. In high school, things completely changed. He started hanging out with the 'cool kids', and sadly, that did not include me.

Freshman year, he promised that he wouldn't let things change between us. By the end of the basketball season that year, things had done a complete 180 between us. I never saw him and he never talked to me. I officially wasn't cool enough for him.

Towards senior year, I noticed Steve start to change. He wasn't as focused on basketball anymore and he had completely left his friend group. Instead, one Saturday, I saw him hanging out with a group of kids.

He also started talking to me more. Not a lot, but anything is an improvement from how he was treating me. After we graduated, things changed even more. I started going to school not that far from our hometown so I stayed at home, and Steve started working at Scoops Ahoy.

Sometimes between classes, I'd come bother Steve and his coworker, Robin. After Steve stopped talking to me at school, I started hanging out with Robin. She eventually trusted me enough to tell me her secret. She told me how scared she was to tell me, but I instantly hugged her and told her that she will always be my best friend.

Robin and I instantly became Steve's worst nightmare. We quickly found out that it was extremely fun to tease him. And if we teamed up, his reactions were doubled.

"What do you want?" Steve sighed.

"That's no way to great a customer!" Robin shouted from the window directly behind Steve. I bit my lip, struggling to hold back my laughter.

Steve turned around and glared at Robin. When he turned back towards me, I put an innocent smile on my face.

"Ahoy," he said through his teeth. "I'm Steve Harrington. I'll be your captain. Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me?"

"Aye ye, Captain!" Robin and I said in sync. We let out matching laughs as Steve rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah," Steve sighed. "What do you want?"

"Can I get my usual?" I asked with a small giggle.

"Sure thing," he sent me a smirk before putting my order in. I tried to pay but he shook his head. "On the house."

"Steve," I sighed.

"Nope," he laughed.

I dramatically sighed before putting the money I would've used to pay for the ice cream in the tip jar. He laughed as he saluted me.

"I'll have it right out," he recited. "Give me a minute."

I jokingly looked around the room before glancing back at him. "You better hurry," I teased. "A line is forming."

                                * * * * *

"I finally figured it out," I heard Robin tease Steve.

"What did you figure out?" Steve laughed.

"Y/N."

"What about Y/N?"

"She's your mystery girl."

"Mystery girl?" He asked. "What are you talking about? You know Y/N."

"No no no," she laughed. "I meant that's the mystery girl you tragically can't be with."

"Robin," he shushed her.

"Explain something to me," she sighed. "You keep talking about this mystery girl, thinking I have no idea who you're actually talking about. I've known Y/N since high school. Not as long as you've known her, but still. My real question is; why can't you be with her? She's been your best friend since, like, forever. Granted, you stopped hanging out with her once you started dating that priss."

"I didn't do that," Steve stuttered.

"Oh come on," she sighed. "The second you started dating Nancy Wheeler, Y/N got pushed to the back of your mind."

"That's not true."

"It is," she said harshly. "You may not have talked to your best friend about what happened, but I have. And you may not have noticed what you were doing, but Y/N sure as hell did. You have no idea what you did to her, Steve."

Clearly opening up to her about Steve and my past was not a smart idea. Then again, we were both high at the time.

"Steve," she added, "you need to grow a pair and tell your mystery girl how you feel. If you don't, you'll lose her. And, this time, you'll never get her back."

I quickly went back to reading my book when I heard the door separating the kitchen from the lobby roughly open. I looked over my shoulder to see Robin with an angry glare on her face. She stormed into the restroom, slamming the door behind her.

Steve walked out of the kitchen and cleared his throat. I looked over to see him smiling hesitantly at me.

"What's with her?" I asked, pretending I didn't hear their entire conversation.

"Just pissed at me," he shrugged. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Okay," I said, clearing my throat before turning my attention back to my book.

Even though I was reading, I was more aware of Steve behind the counter. I looked up when I heard a small clinking sound. Steve had placed my ice cream in front of me.

"Thanks," I smiled. Before he could walk away, I quickly added, "Sorry about the jokes when I first came in. I was just teasing you and. . ."

"I know," he cut me off. He cleared his throat before smiling. "I wasn't offended, Y/N. This may sound weird, but I like when you and Robin tease me."

"Just say the word and I'll stop coming by and bothering you."

"No!" Steve said quickly. He cleared his throat before sitting across from me. "I just mean, I like when you come around. It makes the day bearable."

I quickly looked away before he could see the blush on my face. The conversation I wasn't supposed to hear kept repeating in my head. I hesitated and stalled by grabbing my ice cream and slowly eating it.

"You keep talking about this mystery girl, thinking I have no idea who you're actually talking about. I've known Y/N since high school. Not as long as you've known her, but still. My real question is; why can't you be with her? She's been your best friend since, like, forever."

I took a deep breath, gathering as much courage as I could. I opened my mouth to ask him but chickened out at the last minute.

"You okay?" Steve asked.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," he shrugged.

"Who's the mystery girl you were talking to Robin about earlier?"

I heard him suck in a surprised gasp, but I kept my eyes focused on my ice cream.

"You heard that?" Steve stuttered.

"A little bit," I shrugged, still not looking at him. I quickly added, "All I heard was something about a mystery girl you can't be with. Why can't you be with her?"

"It's complicated," he sighed. I took a shaky breath before looking up at him. He was staring at his hands that were folded on the table.

"What do you mean?"

"Other than the fact that she probably doesn't feel the same way about me?" He scoffed.

"How do you know?" I stuttered. I cleared my throat and went back to eating my ice cream.

"Because I don't deserve for her to feel the same way about me."

"Steve," I started but he kept going.

"I completely turned my back on her," he started to ramble. "I allowed basketball and the stereotypical bullshit of high school to ruin the best friendship I've ever had. How can I leave my best friend for a stupid game?"

"Steve," I tried again.

"And besides," he sighed, "she and I have a complicated past."

"We don't have a complicated past."

I snapped my mouth shut when I realized what I just said. I looked down at my empty ice cream bowl, but soon it was slid across the table away from me. I looked up to see Steve looking at me with knowing eyes. I held my breath as he stood up. I looked away, thinking he was angry with me. My heart jumped into my throat when he slid next to me.

"How much of mine and Robin's conversation did you hear, Y/N?"

"Not that much," I stuttered.

Steve leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. We sat next to each, our lips moving hungrily in sync. We finally broke the kiss when neither one of us could breathe.

"I may have heard your entire conversation with Robin," I whispered.

"Yeah," Steve chuckled. "I got that."

He leaned down and pressed his lips back to mine. We instantly got lost in the kiss.

"Hey, dingus!"

We broke the kiss and looked over at Robin smirking at the two of us.

"As happy I am that this FINALLY happened," she sighed dramatically, "you're still in the middle of your shift."

"Come on," he chuckled. "Can't you cover for me?"

"Hell no," she scoffed. "I'm not working an extra shift because you finally gathered the courage to tell your best friend that you're in love with her."

"Robin," he hissed at her. "We haven't gotten to that part yet."

"Hey," I said, making him look away from a smirking Robin. "How about we talk about that part tonight at dinner?"

I glanced over at Robin and couldn't hold in my laugh as I added, "After your shift."

"I'll swing by and pick you up at 6," Steve said, slightly scooting closer to me. I smirked when I thought of the perfect teasing comeback.

"Promise me you won't show up in your uniform, sailor."

Steve laughed as he gently grabbed my chin and pressed his lips to mine. He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against mine. My face burned as he breathed me in.

"I promise."

[furiousgoldfish]

Breadcrumbing is a behaviour associated with abuse, and it's done to victims who are already bonded to abusers and constantly torn between feeling ignored, desperate, worthless and small, and holding onto hope that things can be good again. It can happen in relationships, but also in family, friendships, marriages, anywhere victim is reliant on the abuser for attention and care.

When you've lived a life of chronic neglect, you are starved for attention, but you've already learned you will never get a lot of it, and you've learned that things will get worse if you ask for it, or demand for it. Abusers take advantage of this, and give you enough positive attention for you to bond with them, feel fulfilled and safe, and then they will stop giving you attention, and wait until you become completely starved, desperate and lost in what is the reality of the relationship. Then, they will give you a little bit. This tiny little bit, will feel like the entire world to you, because it will lift you up from your doubt, anxiety, self hate, desperation, and you will feel hopeful instead, that this little bit of attention means more than it is, that it's a sign that things will get good again, like they once were. The abuser then measures out just how far they can keep you around while giving you nothing, and when you reach your end, when you're breaking down from neglect and pain, they'll give you another crumb of attention to keep you hooked and bonded, to keep you living on empty hope instead of care and attention they implied you'd be having.

Breadcrumbing also serves as gaslighting, because it will make you question your reality. If you’ve been neglected and rendered invisible for a long while, you’ll start to see it, and doubt the relationship, and the person who is doing this to you. But, after they give you a bit of affection, or pay a bit of attention to you, you’re likely to dismiss all of your doubts and go ‘Oh it’s actually okay! I am getting attention! It’s going to be okay from now on! I was wrong to doubt them!’ and it will take a while before you can go back to your correct perception of this person. The abusive parents often do it after a kid has seen thru them, and they decide to leave - then the parents will suddenly act a bit nicer, do a nice gesture, give a little leeway to the kid, so they seem like ‘not that bad anymore’ so the kid questions themselves and their decision to leave. But it’s still only breadcrumbs, only a small, convenient act of manipulation after years and sometimes decades of abuse.

Breadcrumbing is often just that, abusers throwing what is easy and convenient your way. They don’t let you choose what you get, they don’t take consideration of your needs, they decide how much you’re worth to them, and it’s usually the smallest amount possible, and expect you to be grateful you got anything.

If you find yourself grateful for a little tiny bit of attention, if you find yourself bursting with relief that you weren't ignored once, that you got a small bit of someone's time, an acknowledgment, or a gift, know that this person is giving you breadcrumbs, and as relieved and thankful you feel for them, they're way, way below what you actually need and deserve. You've been trained to live on next to nothing, so that a tiny crumb would satisfy you and keep you attached. That is not humane. A person who cares for you doesn't wait until you're in starvation to offer you a bit of love. This is done for their benefit, so they'd have to invest minimum possible energy or attention on you, and keep you around, often doing way more for them in return. You deserve more than this, and you deserve better. It's okay to throw the breadcrumbs back into their face. You deserve every bit of attention and love that you give to others, and to not settle for anything below.