#these all coexist. there are no 'but's here

[rivervalian]

strap in time for a riverlore explanation:

ok so at the end of season 5, veronica’s evil dad hiram lodge places a bomb under betty and archie’s bed which goes off and the force of the explosion sends them into a parallel universe called rivervale where supernatural stuff happens.

satan himself comes to visit rivervale his name is lou cypher and everyone makes a deal with him. (unrelated to the plot, just wanted to let yall know)

they have a 5 episode arc in rivervale where all characters die but they don’t stay dead and in the end we find out archie created this reality to see his dead father once more which is very sweet and touching actually.

eventually the universes start to leak into one another and season 1 reggie shows up and picks a fight with the recasted reggie and veronica’s like we should have a threesome.

another jughead from another dimension comes in to fix this whole thing and his idea is to make out with veronica on archie’s bed because him and veronica are the antithesis or betty and archie.

anyways they eventually fix the timeline without bombs but here’s the catch: a jughead must stay in the teen sex bunker forever and write comics of riverDale and riverVale so that the two universes can coexist.

i would like to point out that at this point in time (at least in my opinion) there are 4 jugheads in the riververse: 1. riverdale jughead 2. rivervale jughead 3. narrator jughead we’ve all met in episode 1 and finally 4. teen sex bunker jughead who’s writing comics to prevent the two universes from collapsing

they return to the normal timeline but the main characters have gained superpowers as a result of their proximity to the supernatural. betty can see people’s auras, archie is invincible, veronica is toxic (literally), tabitha can control time, jughead can read and control minds and cheryl can manipulate fire.

by this point percival pickens arrives in town and he’s like i’m gonna make this place into a late stage capitalism dream land and archie’s like nuh uh you won’t. percival starts building a ghost train and he won’t pay the workers. archie and tabitha convince the workers to unionize by singing bread and roses.

there’s an episode where tabitha tries to prevent the mlk assassination. she also stops riverdale from becoming a sundown town. in the same episode i believe we find out tabitha is actually an angel she’s the guardian angel of riverdale. this realization comes to her as she’s drinking chocolate milkshake from the holy grail. yes, THE holy grail from jesus’ last supper.

percival pickens will gain even more powers from the upcoming comet so the gang has to stop it from destroying riverdale. they don’t know what to do though.

now would be a good time to mention cheryl has an ancestor called abigail blossom who was burned at stake for being a witch by archie, betty and jughead’s ancestors: archibald andrews, beatrice cooper and jedediah jones. this abigail was a lesbian and in love with toni’s ancestor: thomasina topaz.

we also find out abigail resurrected in the body of cheryl and another one of cheryl’s ancestors poppyseed blossom.

back to thomasina though. cheryl contacts abigail’s soul and she’s like ok i’ll help you only if you let me have one night with thomasina. so toni and cheryl have their souls trapped in a jar while abigail and thomasina use their bodies as vessels. they have lesbian sex and then abigail’s like yeah i’ll help you now. basically lesbian sex saves the world.

what do is that veronica is basically a human dialysis machine so she sucks out everyone’s powers and transfers them to cheryl who’s also a witch btw. cheryl destroys the comet but she can’t save the town completely unscathed so she creates a pocket of time in the 50s and places riverdale there. cheryl the lesbian is canonically the most powerful character in riververse.

the final season takes place in the 50s. the guardian angel tabitha shows up and she has everyone watch the previous 6 seasons of riverdale and everyone remembers. then on the last day of school it’s revealed that jughead, betty, veronica and archie have all been in a quad relationship this whole time. congrats riverdale for being the only show that has the balls to do that btw.

in the end betty is the only one alive from her class. it’s now 2023 and she’s like 80 (because remember they went back in time and grew old from there). she wants to go back to visit riverdale with the ghost(?) of jughead who’s like a genie granting her wish i suppose. and there we get another jughead so at this point there are canonically 5 jugheads in riververse.

in the final scene betty dies and goes to heaven which we find out is actually just pop’s chock’lit shoppe in the sky. she sits on her table with jughead, veronica and archie. with the heaven version, our number of jugheads has gone up to 6.

but it doesn’t stop there. the camera pans out into the parking lot. there’s yet another jughead there. he explains to us how they will always have this and they will never escape the comics or something along these lines. this is our 7th and i believe final jughead.

there you go this is the explanation: they never really died and will likely never ever die. even if they died, it wasn’t like they were dead the whole time. it was a great finale.

there are also many things i missed like julian the cursed doll coming back as cheryl’s evil twin julian completely replacing jason blossom and jason having his only ever speaking role etc but yeah you get the point

also this isn’t even the quarter of what happens in the show so if you have any questions just drop them and i’d be happy to answer them i love talking about riverdale

every single word of this feels like it was pulled out of a bingo machine

[dollsltt]

MAMA, A BIRD BEHIND YOU.

⠀⠀ ᡣ𐭩 ⠀ ⠀⠀angel!reader x dean winchester

sum. just angel!reader having a staring problem, and perturbing dean’s sleep with it.

includes. fluff, pet names (duck, duckling, sweetheart), it’s my first drabble have mercy, english is not my first language.

Dean jolted awake, his heart felt like it wanted to jump out of his chest. He wasn't sure what had disturbed him so much —a nightmare, maybe, or that weird squeaking sound the bunker floor made from time to time— but something felt... off. He blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the drowsiness and blurriness in his eyes. Then he saw you.

You. Fuckin' duck. He thought.

You were standing perfectly still in the corner of the room, your hands clasped together in front of you, staring deeply at Dean.

"What the fuck-" Dean wanted to yell at you, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't used to it. It was maybe the fifth time this week you'd taken it upon yourself to wake him or Sam with your eerie, silent presence. "Duckling, what are you doing here?" he asked as he sat up in bed.

You stared at him for another few seconds, blinking slowly. "You were asleep."

"Yes, I know. It's what people do at night." He rubbed his face, trying to make sense of the situation, and maybe trying to talk some sense into you. "Why are you always just... standing there? Watching me like a damn freak?"

You tilted your head slightly, as though considering your words. "You looked peaceful."

Dean froze, caught between a sense of confusion and sheer disbelief. "You woke me up because I looked peaceful?"

"No," you corrected, your voice as calm as ever. "You woke up on your own. I was merely observing."

"Observing what, exactly?"

For brief moments, you hesitated. Your expression was hard to read, since you just kept staring at him, but that question seemed to have made you think.

"Humans are... fragile. They take on too much. They carry the weight of their sins even unconsciously. I was ensuring that you remained unharmed."

Dean stayed just like you for a few seconds; still and staring, blinking slowly as if the gears in his brain were being dusted off. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, trying to find the words.

"So you were angelically babysitting me?" he said, confused. How was he supposed to take that? Sure, it was... Cute, in a way. His chest tightened fondly at the thought of how much you cared for him, even if you showed it in such a weird way.

But still, it was fucking terrifying to be jumpscared by two shiny eyes staring at his soul in the middle of the night.

"Yes." you said, matter-of-factly, a tiny smile gracing your face, which only made Dean feel his chest tighten even more.

"Listen, sweetheart– I don't mind you watching me sleep, okay? Even if you look like a freak, I don't mind, but you should try to kick that habit. It's not very... uh, how do I say it? Human." Dean tried to explain it as simply as possible, but it was hard when you were looking at him with those big eyes, all wide and paying as much attention as if he were an exotic animal. "You scared five lifetimes out of me standing in that corner like an extra in horror movie. I'm just saying, others might react worse than me."

You blinked and looked down at your hands. "I didn't intend to frighten you. I'm simply drawn to your existence." You said softly. "If you would rather, I may go."

Dean shouldn't feel bad, but he did. It was like scolding a puppy for chewing on a shoe. He knew you were getting used to the Earth and how humans coexisted with each other, it wasn't entirely your fault you were a social misfit.

"Stay if you want," Dean flopped back onto his pillow with a groan, covering his face with his upper arm. "But I'd recommend you try doing other things while Sam and I asleep, believe me, anything is better than watching two idiots snore." He yawned.

Dean peeked out from behind his arm to watch you move toward the door, though you threw one last glance over your shoulder.

You hesitate, moving your lips as if you want to say something else. Finally, you nod. "Very well. Sleep well, Dean." Your gaze lingered for a moment, soft and curious, before vanishing down the hallway.

As soon as you left, Dean exhaled noisily. "Angels," he muttered, covering his head with the blanket. "Fucking weirdos."

a/n: hii hiii hello this is my first drabble, hope y’all like it :) i’m doing sam’s version soon cuz my boy deserves to be disturbed by the angel too

[catboybiologist]

on the order of: denying E makes it easier to cry or hrt changing sexuality

I think these two examples in particular may be repeated and accepted so much is because they don't fit nicely with other political arguments.

For the former, E making it easier to laugh and cry would mean, simplistically, that T makes it harder to cry. Or, at least that going from a T dominated system to E dominated makes it easier to express emotion, then going the other way must make it harder. If not thought about carefully, this could easily reinforce the idea that women are emotional and men are emotionally stunted not because of socialization, but because of ~biology woooo~. Whereas if it's a lifting of some kind of emotional fog, well then it could go either way, T and E would both equally make it easier to express one's emotions because they are ~in balance~ or whatever. This is of course also assuming there is a "right" or "predesitined" way to be a certain gender, that trans people were always the gender they identify with now, which is still gender essentialist in a way I think. BUT The narrative that we've had to build, medically and politically, is that we've always been our gender and we're just trying to "correct" it. And to throw this out would also mean losing political ground, possibly.

As for the latter, it's pretty much the exact same I think, a lot of people want to describe hrt changing sexuality as a consequence of change in confidence or self image or anything like that would counter the "born this way" political narrative that has been built up over time where we're just they way we are and there's nothing you can do to change that, so there's an instinct, because I don't think it's even necessarily that people are doing this consciously, to fight anytime someone implies sexuality can be changed.

Anyway, I do very much agree with your stated opinions, just wanted to possibly add something

So you sent a follow up that was like "wait no you already said this don't respond" but you have good points here that I didn't make

Namely, the socialization vs hormones thing. A lot of people view these as in contention- eg, men are solely socialized not to cry, T has no role vs the opposite. Male socialization makes it harder to express any emotion and testosterone makes it harder to cry are coexisting statements, however, and the crushing weight of men having less "visible" shows of emotion combined with the societal expectation that they shouldn't have emotion at all means that it's hard for men to get emotional help.

Vice versa for women being "overemotional", which is generally the more oppressive societal issue. Women's displays of emotion are excused as unserious, or downplayed, because "women are like that". The ability for hormones to cause physical displays of emotion to be different affects how society demands we repress those emotions, either through personal "stoicism" or societal excusal. And we learn habits of how to navigate those systems in turn.

[nabinabipumpum]

CAN I BE THE FIRST? - 08ᴹⁱⁿʲⁱ ˣ ᶠ!ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

Pairing - Kim Minji X f!Reader

Genre - Fluff, angst, written + smau

Synopsis - Y/n always tried to manage on her own, especially with the family she had, but after becoming a trainee she realized that not everyone hated her. After the debut she still tries to deal with her feelings, but everything becomes even more confusing after having to approach NewJeans for better coexistence in the company.

Warning - mention of mom and daddy issues, self-acceptance problems, mention of homophobic parents, Y/n is starting to accept herself

Previous | Masterlist | Next

3 weeks ago…

You looked up at the ceiling as you listened to the music on the speaker.

All kinds of thoughts went through your head, in the end you weren't actually listening to the music.

You didn't understand why it was so hard to just accept and be who you were, you were forcing yourself to be someone who wasn't you, someone you didn't want to be, just to please someone who never cared about you.

You ignored some of Minji's messages, giving the excuse of being busy with the schedule for your first comeback and she understood that. At least that's what she said, because she didn't understand why you responded to Haerin and Dani every day but not her, were you just busy when it was her?

You also avoided her in the company corridors whenever you could, you almost bumped into each other a few times but you avoided it, but she noticed and it was making you confused.

It turns out that you exchanged common dreams and some nightmares for just dreams with Minji, the two of you in the bookstore, in your room, on the beach, on the company roof, you dreamed about her confessing or vice versa and now you didn't know what do it or say it to.

You heard a few knocks on the door before the familiar girl came in with a can of pringles, “for you,” Miya smiled and you sat up as you watched her sit on the edge of the bed and hand the object to you.

"Thanks."

“You look sad.” You looked at her for a few seconds.

I shouldn't say anything. She is my friend. I should trust her. Maybe she will help me. Maybe she'll fake it. She's the only one who will listen to me.

“Kitty?” she snapped you out of your thoughts “Tell me what’s going on, everyone has noticed how distant you are.”

“I…” she encouraged you to speak and got closer when she saw that her voice would sound low “I think… maybe… no, it's bullshit.”

"No! If it bothers you then it's not bullshit, trust me, I'm here to listen to you.” She intertwined her fingers with yours and squeezed lightly, you looked down and then the sheet on your legs seemed more interesting than looking directly at her.

“I think I like Minji… but, we’re from the same company and… that’s stupid, I shouldn’t, it’s wrong.” you felt your eyes burn and your voice cracked during the last words.

“Don’t say that, there’s nothing wrong, look at me.” It took you a while to finally look at her, now the tears were rolling down your cheeks and you sniffled lightly. “It's not wrong that you like her, maybe it's even a good thing, she might like you too.” You denied it and put your head in your hands.

“They’re going to fight me, mom said I was going to hell.”

“You don’t even believe in God.”

“Coming home is hell.”

A few seconds of silence between the two of you, just the music from the speaker playing low and you cried even more when a NewJeans song started playing. Miya patted your head and sat down next to you, her arm wrapped around you and you relaxed a little. Why were you so scared?

“You’re already home, no one can hurt you here.” you remembered your parents’ last visit and how you were almost shaking at being so close to them again “It’s okay that you’re not straight, everyone is on your side, we want to see you happy.”

“Right.” you sighed and wiped away some tears that were still sliding down your face “I just… this is weird…”

“Take your time.” You nodded and placed your head on her shoulder.

“Thank you… for being here.”

“That’s what friends are for, right?” She smiled and squeezed you a little tighter, you nodded “It’s going to be okay.”

“How are you sure?”

“Your life has been bad enough, it’s time for you to be happy.” you didn’t have time to process her words “Come on! Get ready and let’s go out.”

“But we have to sleep in three hours.”

“You don’t have an option, get changed while I call the others.”

Taglist: @gtfoiydlyj @cloudinwjns @yncoreee @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @ourlovesarang @saysirhc @yuyuy90 @he------len @vrtualstar

[zitongzi]

You are making many assumptions based on what is quite frankly nonsense. Your radical inclusiveness wont solve anything or make it safer for marginalized people. If right wingers who arent actually racist exists then re education for them should be as simple as telling them, hey being right wing means you are advocating for the murder and enslavement of marginalized people. By the way the whole im not racist im just voting republican for the economy/insert other reason here is literally an exucse used by bigots to hide their bigotry.

Whats next are you going to argue that being pro confederacy isnt racist?

You cant except marginalized people to coexist with their opressors. You havent ended any viscious cycles, all you've done os shift the burden of not being bigoted and a piece of shit onto marginalized people. Amd if you expect marginalized people to educate or make bigots not biggoted then why are you against re eeucation? It honestly sounds less like you want a society where marginalized people can be safe and rather you just want a society that does fuck all to keep marginalized people safe and instead force them to beg and grovel in the hopes that right wingers will finally see them as human.

Its very much a very infantile view of society and how it all should work. You have the world view equivalent to care bears but instead of growing out of it, you embrace morals for children as if its a universal truth.

I dont even know what more to say at this point.

Maybe i am just an evil tankie but i like legit dont get why reeducation camps are considered bad. I dont mean like i dont think reeducation camps cant be abused or used for the wrong reasons but like so many people on tumblr act like they're inheirently evil and wrong and i just dont understand that? Wouldnt like reeducating your opponents and hopefully teach them why they are wrong be preferable to the alternative solution of firing squad? because like if you dont reeducate right wingers or nazis then you have to kill or imprison them. As much as i know this website love its you gotta tollerate everyone no matter what ism, that kinda shit does not work in real life and is at best idealized nonsense. If you cant reeducate right wingers or nazis then you got to kill or otherwise get rid of them. You cant just tolerate them in your society and hope they suddenly get a change of heart and stop being right wing or nazis.

[ssleeping-in-a-coffin]

Drac as a Hunter, Ericka as a Cruise Liner Owner?

Lately, I haven’t been able to dedicate much time to drawing, but I finally have something to share with you! How do you like the idea of a swap AU where Drac and Ericka trade roles? Not as in human vs. vampire, but in their professions. Picture this: Drac as a hunter, and Ericka as a vibrant, colorful owner of a cruise liner—a floating hotel for monsters.

At first, it might sound strange, but let me explain. In the original, Ericka used her ship as a cover for her real job: monster hunting. Here, Drac does something similar. His “hotel” is just a front for his main occupation—hunting. But who is he hunting? Surprise! He’s targeting monsters. Why? Because a vampire hunting humans is too predictable, but a vampire hunting his own kind? Now that’s intriguing. Meanwhile, Ericka does the opposite: she’s trying to provide monsters with a safe haven. Her goal is to foster understanding between monsters and humans, proving that coexistence is possible.

Of course, this is just a concept, and I haven’t worked out all the details yet. But I love playing with this idea, as it completely flips the canon dynamics. Plus, I managed to sketch some rough designs for them: Ericka in a nautical-inspired outfit—flared jeans, a striped sailor’s shirt, and maritime details. And Drac? He’s in a dark, sinister suit paired with a dramatic wide-brimmed hat, adding a mysterious and menacing vibe.

What do you think? Would you like to see more of this world?

[the-au-thor]

A la velocidad de la Luz | pt.1 | Steve Harrington x Reader

A/N: Heyyy, I’ve got a lot to do, but I’m kinda tired. English isn’t my first language, so I usually have to translate my fanfics. Just wanted to drop this post so you guys know the tragic thing that happened to me 😩. I’m working on translating Babysitting Munson ASAP to update it soon. Sorry for the delay! 💔

Summary: Steve and you seem like you’re friends? And he seems super observant. You need him, and he knows it. Let’s see how you fall for him and what Steve Harrington’s love language is.

Trigger Warning: click here

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Steve recognized the signs as soon as he saw you that movie night on Friday.

After the traumatic events you all had endured, it was only natural that you formed an almost unbreakable bond. A connection that linked the fancy house in the upscale neighborhood with the humble trailer from the wrong side of the tracks. A bond that defied logic, bringing together different ages, circumstances, and tastes into a group that religiously gathered every Friday to binge on popcorn and watch horror films. Afterward, everyone would stay over because, for some reason, no one wanted to go home or be apart. You all needed each other to keep going, though it wasn’t something anyone would openly admit. It was an unspoken agreement, one everyone was perfectly fine with.

This constant practice of coexisting made Steve more observant. He had discovered he genuinely enjoyed taking care of others and that his complaints about it were just part of a ritual. Dustin would insist he absolutely needed to go somewhere, and only Steve could take him. After grumbling, insisting he wasn’t a babysitter, and complaining about wasting his time, Steve would grab his keys and drive him wherever he needed to go. He could predict stomachaches after the kids devoured too much candy and was always ready with antacids and chicken soup. He broke up bar fights at The Hideout to make sure Corroded Coffin’s gigs didn’t get ruined, and Hopper didn’t get unnecessary calls. He had been there for Robin, Nancy, Argyle, Jonathan, and each of the kids. Maybe that’s why Hopper had suggested police academy. And maybe that’s why Steve felt like all of you were the reason he wasn’t that lost kid with a terrible social life anymore, unsure of what to do with his future.

You glanced at him with a small smile during the bathroom break Nancy had enforced after Dustin got a UTI from holding it during Freddy’s killings scenes.

“What?” you asked, tossing a handful of popcorn into your mouth as you turned to face him.

Steve didn’t know you well before Hawkins’ catastrophic events pulled you all together. You were Robin’s friend in high school and worked with Nancy on the school paper. You admitted you didn’t share Nancy’s reporter spirit—you just liked writing and thought being on the paper would look good on a college application. He vaguely remembered seeing you at some parties because Vicky’s twin brother, Justin Carmichael, had tried to date you. Steve recalled Justin whining for a week about how he’d taken you to the best party of the year, and you hadn’t even let him get to first base. Deep down, Steve was glad. Justin Carmichael was an idiot, as dumb as Steve had once been.

After graduation, you met again during the last Hawkins disaster, which almost none of you survived. You were attending Indiana University during the week, but you came home on weekends because, unlike Steve’s parents, yours genuinely loved having you around and cared about your interests. That explained your nurturing, always-ready-to-listen demeanor. Steve thought it wasn’t surprising he hadn’t noticed you before. The old Steve wouldn’t have looked twice at someone like you because he’d been a selfish idiot back then. He’d proved it with Nancy and had to suffer a lot before proving to himself he was more than what his parents or old friends expected of him.

“You okay?” Steve asked, hearing Lucas and Max whispering as they kissed on a couch in the back.

Robin was in the kitchen, microwaving more popcorn while Nancy caught her up on her long-distance relationship with Jonathan. Steve always knew they’d make it work; they were just that kind of couple. Dustin had gone to the bathroom, while Will laughed at Mike and El’s petty argument, which Eddie occasionally fueled with sarcastic commentary.

You held Steve’s gaze for a moment before nodding. “Of course. Finally on break. I missed not having to pack every weekend,” you said with a small smile. “And I’ll get a break from Professor Lewis’s lectures.”

Steve winced. “Still giving you a hard time?”

You nodded. “To the last second of class. I don’t know how I’ll get through next year if he keeps this up. I have no idea what I did to him.”

Steve frowned. “Some people are just bitter, you know? Maybe he’s jealous of how talented you are.”

You wrinkled your nose, letting out a dry laugh. “He’s a Times writer. Jealous? Please.”

Steve shrugged. “Maybe he sees something in you he’ll never have. Adults project their crap onto younger people all the time.”

You studied him in silence, popping another piece of popcorn into your mouth before asking, “How’s your dad taking you being the first in the academy by the way?”

Steve let out a short laugh. “Oh, he’s thrilled. Especially since Hopper was basically his nemesis in high school when they were both on the basketball team.” He took two big sips of Coke.

You smirked. “Speaking of adults who project…”

Steve chuckled, watching you dig through your bag for your medication. He remembered the first time you’d shown everyone your pills. It was after closing the gate for good, when the government stashed you in a fancy hotel while cleaning up Hawkins—and Eddie’s reputation. You were safe for the first time in ages, but none of you could sleep. You’d been holed up in that hotel suite for 24 hours, ordering the most expensive food on the menu and playing video games nonstop. But when Eddie spent three hours curled up on his bed without actually resting, you’d had enough.

Steve had watched as you stood up, turned off the TV, and took Argyle’s pasta tray. No one even had the energy to protest. You stood in your hotel robe, exhaustion in your eyes, and declared, “All right. I’m about to do something I shouldn’t, and you have to promise not to tell your parents. Yes, Erica, I mean you specifically,” you said, leveling a stern gaze at her. Then, you started handing out small capsules to everyone except Erica, who got melatonin gummies.

“What’s this?” Dustin asked, sniffing the pill.

“These are my sleeping pills,” you explained calmly. “They’re mild, but you guys haven’t slept in days. So here’s the deal: we’re going to pretend I’m not breaking the law here. Everyone will take one—trust me, the dose is low—and don’t freak out if you taste something bitter. And you all have to promise to see a doctor after this, because what we’ve been through isn’t normal, and you need help.”

Eddie didn’t hesitate. He swallowed his pill, got into bed, and wished everyone goodnight. One by one, the kids followed, and Steve helped you and Robin dim the lights as everyone found a spot to sleep.

In the quiet, Steve had whispered, “Didn’t know you took sleeping pills.”

You’d hesitated, then admitted, “I started having panic attacks when I was 15. They diagnosed me with PTSD because I...well, went through some shit as a kid. There were too many sleepless nights—it wrecked everything. The pills help.” Your voice was steady, but Steve could hear the pain beneath your words. “With therapy and support, it gets better. These pills are nothing compared to what I used to take. It’s like I got a piece of myself back.”

“Thanks for sharing that. You’re strong, you know?” Steve said, his voice soft with sleep.

Your hand had reached across Robin to give his arm a reassuring squeeze. “Goodnight, Steve.”

Now, watching you down two capsules, Steve frowned. “Two? That’s new.”

You nodded, taking a sip of water. “I’ve been having issues with my dosage. I’ll see the doctor over break and get it sorted.”

Steve’s brows furrowed with concern. “Want me to come with you?”

You shook your head with a quick smile. “And have you waiting an hour while my psychiatrist goes through my baggage? No thanks. But I appreciate it.”

Steve leaned back into the couch, his eyes not leaving you. “Offer stands, though.”

You smiled, genuinely touched. “Thanks.”

Eddie chose that moment to plop down between you and Steve, flashing a mischievous grin at his friend as he wedged into the space. Steve rolled his eyes, resigned, and focused on the movie. But even during the tensest scenes, he couldn’t help but glance at you, his worry lingering. Despite the pills, you didn’t yawn once.

The next morning, you were the first one up, already showered and dressed in your athletic shorts and oversized The Clash T-shirt, making breakfast for the sleepyheads still sprawled out on the couch and carpet, snoring away. Nancy was the next to join you, followed by Robin and Argyle.

Steve eventually got up too, greeting the early risers with a groggy smile before heading to his room for a quick shower. He came back downstairs to help out, finding Nancy making waffles while you focused on the eggs. Taking the initiative, he filled the coffee maker with his dad’s favorite blend—a coffee the man rarely drank himself since he was hardly ever home.

"Shouldn't we wake them up?" Nancy asked as she flipped another waffle onto the stack. "I mean, they were the ones so excited about going to the lake."

“Sis, it’s vacation time; you can’t go all dictator on them. They’ll wake up when they do,” Argyle murmured in his usual laid-back tone.

Nancy huffed but didn’t argue with his logic. Instead, she piled the waffles on a platter and leaned against Steve’s kitchen island, looking at you.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

You had stayed silent, focused on the eggs, your gaze lost in the pan. You nodded, flipping the eggs once before turning off the stove. Turning to Nancy with a smile, you replied, “I’m fine. Have you had it rough at school?”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “I swear, if I have to do group projects again, I’m going to lose it,” she grumbled, prompting a chuckle from Eddie, who was lounging amidst the cushions, watching everyone.

“Come on, Wheeler,” Eddie laughed. “You’ve worked with us, and that’s turned out fine. What could be worse?”

Robin walked past him, tossing her black cardigan—full of intentional holes Eddie had made to make it look “metal”—onto his face. As Eddie pulled it off, Robin raised an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t you have any shame, Munson?”

Steve let out a mocking laugh as he poured coffee into a couple of mugs.

“Yeah, dude. What’s up with stripping in the middle of the night?”

Eddie struggled to get dressed and clumsily got up from the couch.

“Well, next time, you share a couch on a hot summer night with Henderson, okay?” he grumbled, glancing over at Dustin, who was still sleeping soundly with his mouth open. Eddie threw a blanket at him, yelling, “Wake up!”

Dustin jolted awake, looking alarmed, but calmed down when he saw that everyone was fine and the worst thing that had happened was the drool stain on one of the cushions of Steve’s parents’ sofa. Steve slowly approached the couch, picking up the stained cushion, glaring at Dustin with a mix of annoyance and disbelief.

“Dude, this sofa is worth thousands of dollars. My mom is going to lose it when she sees this,” he protested, tossing the cushion at Dustin, who wasn’t fazed by the scolding and instead smirked, even looking proud of himself as he sprawled back on the couch.

Steve’s house was chaotic for the next few minutes. Forks scraped against the plates, definitely leaving marks Steve’s mom would notice. Eddie, in particular, was too aggressive cutting his bacon. Nancy ensured everything was washed in an orderly manner, arguing it was better to clean up now than be too exhausted to deal with it later. You, Robin, and Steve followed her lead without question because no one wanted to argue with Nancy Wheeler. Meanwhile, Argyle, Eddie, and Jonathan dried and put everything away. The kids prepared for an afternoon at the lake.

When you all arrived, everyone spread out on lounge chairs and oversized towels, and most of the group dove straight into the water. Steve watched as you approached with a bottle of sunscreen, making everyone apply it to their backs, arms, faces, and shoulders—even amid Mike’s small protests about it being unnecessary.

You all swam for a while, ate popsicles, and held little swimming races. Steve faked a cramp so Dustin could win one of the races. Steve didn’t know you had noticed, but you did, smiling quietly at his small act of kindness.

Steve wasn’t the type to open up emotionally in front of a group—that was more Eddie’s style. He wouldn’t stand in the middle of a bonfire to confess how much he cared about everyone, but moments like this made him incredibly happy. He had always been alone but hadn’t realized it was a problem until he met all of you. Now, under the warm, glowing sun near the horizon, he could quietly admire the happiness of being surrounded by friends.

The kids were still splashing around with Robin, Eddie, and Argyle. Jonathan and Nancy swam further out, exchanging kisses and chatting softly. You gave Will a hug, kissed his cheek, and playfully squished the other one, making him laugh before he gently pushed you away. Then, you splashed water at his face and messed up his hair, swimming back toward the shore with strong strokes. When your feet reached the rocky bottom, you waded out, grabbed the towel next to Steve, and flopped onto it to dry off in the sun.

Steve watched you push your wet hair to one side through his sunglasses, noticing the tiny water droplets glistening on your skin before disappearing or evaporating. Silently, you put on your sunglasses, pulled out one of the books you always carried, and began to read. He observed your fingers flipping through the pages and the way your tongue peeked out between your lips as you concentrated on finding your place in the story. Smiling to himself, he adjusted his position on the towel and let out a contented sigh, soaking up the warmth of the sun.

“Can you imagine a man with an extraordinary sense of smell who starts killing people to extract the essence of the young women he murders?” you suddenly broke the silence, your eyes still on the book.

Steve frowned, amused. “No, but I mean… it’s not like we haven’t seen worse things than humans killing each other,” he replied with sarcasm, making you chuckle softly.

“Fair enough,” you said, wetting your finger to turn the page.

Steve cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably before turning toward you.

“Hey, I think you need to be careful with Will.”

That made you glance at him over the top of your sunglasses. Even though he couldn’t see your eyes directly, he could feel the weight of your gaze.

“Why? Is he going around sniffing people and plotting murders?”

Steve frowned. “What? No! What are you talking about?”

You set your book down on your stomach and gave him your full attention.

“Oh, no, it’s just that we were talking about the book, and then you mentioned Will… Having to explain a joke makes it tedious, doesn’t it?” you laughed, letting out a sigh of frustration as if suddenly feeling clumsy and awkward. “What’s going on with Will?”

Steve scratched the back of his neck, trying to piece his words together logically. Internally, he regretted starting the conversation without thinking it through.

“I don’t know. I think he might… maybe… have feelings for you. It’s not your fault; you’re just kind to him,” he paused, struggling to clarify his point. “I just think he might be misinterpreting things a little…”

You slid your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose to meet his eyes directly.

“Are you saying Will Byers has a little crush on me?” you asked slowly, wanting to avoid any misunderstanding.

Steve shifted uncomfortably, shrugging his shoulders and rubbing the tip of his nose. His eyes darted away from yours.

“Maybe,” was all he managed to say.

You adjusted your sunglasses back into place and smiled calmly before picking up your book again.

“Will doesn’t have a crush on me, Steve. At least not on me. Trust me, I know,” you reassured him softly, giving him one last glance. “Really.”

Steve didn’t know it, but you understood his concern all too well. There was a reason why you and Will were so close, why your relationship had deepened over time. It had as much to do with Will’s feelings as it didn’t. It wasn’t something you could explain—it wasn’t your story to tell.

You’d noticed something different about Will months ago, even before the Byers family moved to California. But you weren’t exactly friends back then. You’d tutored him a few times, but that didn’t give you the right to pry into his life. When the Byers returned to Hawkins, Will had become even quieter, more withdrawn, and solitary, even when surrounded by the group. You couldn’t help but get involved, especially the day Joyce called to ask if you could spare an hour on weekends to help Will with his English essays. He’d been losing focus more and more. Joyce’s sensitive side wanted to intervene, but her rational side told her to give him time to readjust.

That phone call left you worried for the rest of the week. By Saturday, when you saw it for yourself, you understood. The distraction in Will’s eyes wasn’t about being somewhere else, far from the room where you were trying to help him write an essay his teacher assigned to boost his grade. No, it was deeper. He was trapped inside himself, locked in a cell whose door was wide open, yet he was both comfortable and terrified to leave.

You remembered noticing an old school project from California tucked away under a pile of canvases. The drawings were incredible—realistic and impressionistic depictions of massive dragons and knights in shining armor wielding swords. The project itself was about Alan Turing, and the dedication in his work caught your attention. Dusting it off, you showed it to him, pointing out its potential.

“This is the Will I want to see in school,” you’d said.

When you looked up, you saw his eyes glisten with unshed tears, and that’s when you knew something was deeply wrong. The essay was forgotten as you sat beside him and took his hands. You promised to keep anything he shared in confidence and let him speak.

You’d never heard Will talk so much. His words surprised you—how he’d hidden his pain so well, how deeply rooted his loneliness had become. He was just a kid, experiencing his first heartbreak. The worst part? You couldn’t promise it would be his last. Life wasn’t going to be easy for him, and his future looked rocky at best. From that day on, you made sure to be there for him whenever he needed you. You even started planning a trip to the MET to fuel his enthusiasm for art.

Being the youngest sibling in your family, with three older brothers, you’d never really known what it was like to look after someone else until you met the kids. It made you happy to ensure everyone was okay. Now, you wanted to make sure Will had a good summer, that his heart healed, and that one day he’d meet a kind boy who could help pick up the pieces and mend whatever hate he might encounter.

It was pretty late by the time everyone decided to head home. The kids were dropped off at the Wheeler’s for a sleepover. Eddie invited the rest of you—Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle, Robin, and yourself—to one of his Corroded Coffin rehearsals at The Hideout. You were about to agree when Steve placed a hand on your shoulder, smiling.

“We’ve got plans,” he said casually.

You blinked at him in confusion, but when his hand pressed softly at your side, you went along with it. You all said goodbye outside the bar, and then you climbed into Steve’s car, curiosity buzzing inside you. Once both seatbelts were fastened, you turned to him.

“So... what exactly are these plans?”

“I was thinking we could do something. Just you and me.”

A date? you wondered, maybe naively. Steve Harrington and you, alone without the rest of the group? You couldn’t recall a single time you’d hung out with him one-on-one. Well, except that one time when you brought cookies to the academy.

He’d passed all his physical training exams, and you knew his parents wouldn’t bother to congratulate him. You’d organized a celebration with the gang, but you also wanted to do something special. You made his favorite cookies—crispy ones with cinnamon, caramel, and peanuts—and met him during his lunch break. He must’ve just finished a workout because the ends of his hair were still damp, and he was wearing shorts and a tank top. His skin glistened with drops of water his cheeks still flushed. A towel hung loosely around his neck, and he used one end to dab at his temple.

You’d been waiting for him in the reception area, a bright smile plastered across your face. Later that night, when intrusive thoughts came uninvited, you’d wondered if you’d looked like a lunatic standing there, grinning like that.

“What’s this?” Steve had asked, half-smiling as he eyed the box in your hands.

“Congrats on passing your physical exam,” you’d replied, holding the box out to him.

His expression shifted—gratitude mixed with something softer, sadder. Then, unexpectedly, he hugged you. You’d hugged before, usually after some life-threatening adventure, but this was different. His chin rested on your shoulder as his hands rubbed gently between your shoulder blades. You heard him sigh and thank you in a voice barely above a whisper.

When he pulled back, you were still on tiptoes, his hands resting on your shoulders. His eyes lingered on yours for a moment, and it felt like there was something unsaid between you. But it passed so quickly that you didn’t dwell on it. You never visited him at the academy again, despite having more than one excuse to. You weren’t sure why, but you felt the need to protect yourself, so you avoided being alone with Steve, steering clear of situations where the two of you might end up without the others around.

When you arrived at his house, a strange feeling washed over you. Steve must’ve noticed your furrowed brow or how you hesitated to leave the car, staring cautiously at the house. He walked around to your side, opened your door, and smiled at you in a way that inspired trust.

“There’s something I want to show you inside,” he said, holding out his hand.

You half-smiled, unsure how to feel—curious, maybe a little apprehensive. Taking his hand, you stepped out of the car and followed him to the door. His fingers stayed securely wrapped around yours, his thumb drawing calming circles on your palm every so often.

The house was just as you’d left it, except for a pillow slightly out of place on the expensive sofa. Steve led you upstairs, past strategically placed family photos his mom had hung. One, in particular, caught your attention—a studio portrait with a standard blue background and cartoonish clouds. In the middle was a baby in a sailor outfit, smiling wide.

You couldn’t help but grin. “Is that you?”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, it’s me. What, you don’t like it?”

“I love it. Did you ever wish you had siblings?”

Steve glanced at you curiously but nodded. “Yeah, I did. My parents didn’t want more kids, though. By the time they changed their minds, it was too late. My dad says it’s because of my mom, but we all know better.”

You winced, recalling the one time you’d met Mr. Harrington. He’d introduced himself as Mr. Harrington, like he’d adopted the title as his first name. He seemed the type to blame his wife for his own failings.

“I always wanted younger siblings,” you murmured, running your finger lightly along the banister. “I guess now I’ve got some.”

“Yeah, and they’re a pain,” Steve grumbled, stopping outside a closed door and turning to look at you.

You smiled nervously. He was looking at you like that. What were you supposed to do? Shrugging, you muttered, “They’re not that bad.”

Steve’s gaze held yours, his brown eyes warm and unguarded in a way you didn’t see often. Then he slipped into the room and shut the door behind him, leaving you to fidget in the hallway. A moment later, he reappeared, his expression unreadable.

“I’ve got something for you on the other side of this door,” he announced before pushing it open.

The guest room came into view, its blackout curtains drawn over the massive windows overlooking the Harringtons’ backyard. The faint sound of ocean waves played from hidden speakers, and the air was scented with lavender from candles scattered around. The bed was immaculately made, piled with soft pillows and clean sheets.

You glanced at Steve, confused. “Uh, you could at least offer me coffee first, Steve. Just saying.”

He laughed, the sound light and genuine. “If I wanted that, I’d spring for something fancier than coffee. Give me some credit.”

Still grinning, he stepped inside and handed you a neatly folded set of pajamas.

“Seriously, though—this is an intervention.”

You stood frozen in the doorway, eyeing the clothes in your hands. The soft fabric slid beneath your fingers as you frowned. “An intervention for what?”

Steve’s smile widened. “Glad you asked.”

He gestured to the pajamas. “I’m gonna run you a bath. My mom’s got all these fancy bath salts that are supposed to transport you to another dimension or something. You’re gonna relax, put on those pajamas, and sleep. You’ve been burning yourself out. It’s bad for the soul. It’s bad for my soul, too, having to watch it.”

You blinked, unsure whether to laugh or cry. “You’re being sweet.”

“I’m always sweet,” he quipped, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re just finally paying attention.”

"Steve; What...?" You shook your head quickly, trying to make the confusion vanish as if by magic. "I don’t understand."

Steve placed his hands on your shoulders and looked directly into your eyes.

"You haven’t slept in months; you’re not fooling me. You said it’s been hard to sleep, but I know it’s more than that. You’ve been really stressed out, and when that happens, insomnia, panic attacks, negative thoughts, and the need to isolate yourself start creeping in. I’ve seen it. So let’s try to avoid that, and for that, I’ve made a sleep bomb. I just need your cooperation. Can we do that?"

You looked at him, trying to read his expression. It surprised you that Steve had noticed the signs of distress in you. You hadn’t wanted to alert anyone, not even your parents, who had already gone through it with you more than once. You didn’t want to make them suffer. You didn’t want to tell them that when you were in college, the only thing you thought about when you weren’t studying or trying to avoid getting on Professor Lewis’s bad side was going back to Hawkins; being with them, your friends, your family. You didn’t want to tell them that you had returned to that dark place, where you would lie awake for those long nights, desperate and crying, wondering what it would feel like to sleep forever, to wake up when everything hurt less. From time to time, your mind would take you there. You knew it was just a phase that would pass with time, but the uncertainty of when or how long it would last was another nail in the torture of your burden. That Steve hadn’t needed any words of help from you to notice meant both a surprise and a terror to you. Surprising because you didn’t think he’d even notice; he was busy with the enormous house his parents hardly lived in, taking care of the younger kids, going through the academy trials while trying to navigate his way through the hordes of renewed fangirls who had returned to their admiration and flirtation exercises. Did he even have room for you in his schedule? You knew he was a friend, but honestly, you had hung out more with Nancy, Robin, and Eddie—shopping, going to the movies, and attending concerts—than you ever had wandering aimlessly around downtown with Steve. Of all the people in your group, Steve was honestly the last person you thought would notice your silent cries for help. And yet here he was, in front of you. At some point, he’d gone out of his way to set up an entire room, light candles, and have a bed that looked too inviting, along with soft satin pajamas, neatly folded for you.

It felt like your lungs had swallowed all the air in the room, and the oxygen only reached you in the form of a soft, weak "thank you" that slipped from your lips in a breathless tone. Steve seemed to appreciate that small effort of gratitude, and something in his eyes softened for a moment. He gently squeezed your shoulders, then stepped away to turn on the faucet, filling the tub with wonderfully hot water. When you tested it moments later, your body relaxed entirely, and your muscles seemed to thank the heat. You tilted your head back as your toes curled in delight. You were sure the salts had done little more than make your skin feel soft, but the pleasant scent had helped you unwind. When you decided it was enough, only because the water had begun to cool and your fingers were starting to wrinkle, you got out of the tub, dried off, and slipped into the soft, comfortable satin pajamas—a beautiful mahogany color that smelled like detergent and fabric softener.

It was paradise. That’s what you thought when you came downstairs to find the table set with iced tea, a salad, and two plates piled high with spaghetti bolognese.

Steve didn’t know how to cook anything else; he could barely make waffles, and his eggs were always dry. But if there was one thing Steve Harrington couldn’t mess up, it was a homemade plate of pasta. You honestly couldn’t understand why he’d never shown off that skill to his dates; you were sure by now Steve Harrington had been off the market for a long time. Part of you—one part you tried not to visit often—wished that little piece of Steve, the one you and the boys knew, would stay in the shadows. Then you’d feel selfish for wanting that. You knew Steve felt lonely, and he deserved to find someone. As you twirled pasta onto your fork, you knew that much because the pasta was delicious, and he had taken the time to make it himself.

You would’ve liked to keep eating, but you knew it was greedy. Steve got up and led you to the room, handing you a long list of reasons why he wouldn’t let you clean, tidy, or do the dishes—starting with the fact that this was all part of an intervention he had orchestrated.

"What’s wrong?" Steve asked when you settled into bed, pulling the cover over yourself.

"Every night I try this, Steve," you said. "I try to relax, close my eyes, and sleep, and I really want to do it now, but I can’t..."

Steve rubbed his nose thoughtfully and nodded as he sat down next to you, ready to listen.

"Look at you," he murmured. "You’re worried because you think you won’t be able to sleep, and that’s exactly why you won’t."

You shook your head. "It’s not that, seriously, Steve. It’s just that I know myself. I know, and it’s maddening. You don’t know how many nights I’ve spent staring at the ceiling, feeling like my body just needs to move. It’s physically impossible for me to lie in a bed, no matter how comfortable it is."

"It’s okay," Steve nodded, thoughtful. "I have an idea. Do you remember when we were watching over Max, making sure Vecna wouldn’t take her at the Wheeler house?" You nodded. "Yeah, Dustin wouldn’t stop talking, and God knows I couldn’t shut him up, so I just gave in and listened to his annoying voice all night. And suddenly—boom! I wake up, and it’s morning."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. "You fell asleep during your shift watching over Max?"

"Hey, Henderson was still awake, plus nothing happened, right?"

You opened your mouth in disbelief. "Something could’ve happened, Steve."

"But it didn’t!" he laughed, trying to defend himself. "But that’s not the point. The point is, I fell asleep." You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms while still sitting in bed. Steve had to admit you looked adorable trying to lecture him about his irresponsibility. "I slept like a damn baby with Dustin’s voice."

You raised an eyebrow, finally understanding.

"So, are you telling me that this whole time, all I’ve needed is Dustin’s voice to sleep soundly?"

"No," he replied, pointing a finger at you with a victorious smile. "My voice, baby. My voice will make you sleep like a baby tonight." He then stood up and motioned for you to settle back into bed. You looked at him, hiding a laugh.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Look, right now you think it’s funny, but when you wake up in the morning feeling rested, I’ll have the decency not to tell you it was all because of me."

You smiled, adjusting your hair.

"Oh, Steve, thanks so much, that’s so thoughtful of you," you laughed, but the laugh quickly died when you saw Steve start to settle in next to you in bed. He lay on his side, propping his head up with his hand to look at you.

"What are you doing?"

"I’m just gonna settle in next to you and talk to you. The only rule is, you can’t talk; you’ll close your eyes and listen to my voice."

Bossy.

You nodded silently and closed your eyes. You heard Steve sigh, but you didn’t look at him again. After all, he’d gone to all this trouble, so you would cooperate. You’d do your part.

And then Steve started talking. He talked for at least an hour about his life, his parents, and what he wanted to do in the future, once he graduated and became a cop, taking care of the town again with Hopper as his boss. Damn, it would be hard to follow the old man’s orders, but he’d accept the challenge. He didn’t stop, even when your breathing became rhythmic, signaling you were finally falling asleep. Steve didn’t stop watching you, stretching out his arm to turn down the volume on the ambient noise. He kept watching you as the sound of crickets filtered in from the backyard, blending with the croaking of frogs in a whispered melody.

He couldn’t stop looking at you.

Steve watched your eyelashes brush your cheeks. The air moved in and out through your slightly parted lips as you breathed. He looked at your nose, tracing imaginary lines over your face, following them with his gaze as if he were redrawing you. It wasn’t fair that you couldn’t rest; that it was so hard for you. Steve had seen you sleep soundly in the most difficult places and under the most critical circumstances. You were perfect under pressure. Something told him you’d rather face Vecna as an enemy than any internal demon haunting your mind. He’d seen more fear on your face at the thought of another sleepless night than when one of the Demodogs that attacked Hopper’s old cabin had pinned you down and drooled over your face as if deciding how you’d taste.

Steve struck him right in the middle of the neck with his bat, not stopping until Dustin told him the guy was more than dead, impaled on the wooden floor. He didn’t know it then, but he would’ve killed any monster for you. Even the one that lived tormenting you in your mind.

"Thanks," he finally spoke, reaching out with his other hand to stroke your hair. "You’ve always looked out for us, and that’s an understatement," he admitted. "I think you try so hard because you haven’t been able to take care of yourself the way you should," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen across your face. "Don’t worry; I’ll take care of you."

You had made everyone fulfill their promise in the hotel room. They’d each been given separate rooms, but trauma unifies, and no one could stand to be apart; everyone gathered in Eddie’s room and spent hours together. Afterward, when things calmed down and they were interviewed by men in black suits with serious expressions, they were sent to a high-security clinic where Owen was waiting to perform physical exams. None of the scars had fully healed; Eddie had to get skin grafts on his abdomen, and Max had to undergo rehabilitation to walk normally again.

"It’s not enough," you told Owen when he gave everyone the all-clear with prescriptions for the best free medicine. The man raised his gaze from his clipboard to look at you through his glasses. "We need therapy."

"Kid..." Hopper’s tired voice came from behind you, but you stopped him firmly.

"No," you turned to face him and then looked at Owen for a few seconds. "He smelled like a distillery even before the first Demogorgon attack," you reminded everyone. "How do you think he’ll be once all the adrenaline from this is gone? Hopper needs therapy. We all do. Max almost lost her eyesight; Eddie came back from the dead. You can’t say everything’s fine and send us back to a town where everyone will keep judging us, no matter what." Owen opened his mouth, but you weren’t ready to stop speaking. "You weren’t there. You don’t know what we went through. We literally prevented a dimensional-level catastrophe that wasn’t our responsibility, Owen. We’re owed."

Truth be told, none of you, except you, thought therapy was a good idea. A monster had used your worst nightmares and traumas to get rid of you. You didn’t want to have to open your heart to another stranger once a week, only for them to take advantage of it. But you had been firm in making everyone stick to the commitment, and against all odds, they agreed and completed their therapy sessions as they should. Even Mike, who had resisted extreme measures to the heart-to-heart talk his therapist suggested, finally gave in. You had earned the trust of those kids, Steve saw it. And he had to admit that was part of the reason he sometimes felt jealous. It was pathetic to admit it—an adult jealous of kids—but damn, it would feel nice if one day one of those hugs you gave to Will Byers was meant for him.

"You’re going to a lot of trouble for her," Dustin told Steve the next morning while chewing loudly on a raspberry.

"Hey human vacuum, stop eating someone else’s breakfast. This isn’t for us."

"You see? This is what I mean! I could be planning a new D&D campaign that would surprise Eddie, and he’d be kissing my ass for the next decade, but here I am helping you impress a girl."

"It’s not to impress her; she finally slept more than eight hours and needs to eat," Steve began to answer while pouring some of Robin’s pancake mix onto the hot pan. "And let me remind you, I’m the one driving thousands of miles so you and your ‘Phoebe Cates-level’ sexy girlfriend—who, by the way, I seriously doubt—can see each other. So, I’d appreciate it if you stopped eating her food and helped me with this like I asked."

Dustin furrowed his brow but kept adding raspberries to the batter anyway.

"You know? I always thought you and Robin had something," Steve rolled his eyes and sighed. "Then, for a moment, I thought you and Nancy would get back together from the way you stupidly stared at her. But now this makes more sense."

Steve took a little bit of the batter that splashed on his finger and tasted it.

"Yeah? Why’s that?"

Dustin, focused on his work, shrugged.

"When you and Robin are together, you joke like you, and I do, and I refuse to think you're into me."

Steve made a disgusted face.

"Gross, man, stop."

"That, and when you looked at Nancy, you suffered, Steve. You were the saddest, most miserable..."

"Don’t be so kind, you’ll make me cry."

"...pathetic, and depressing human being." Dustin ignored his friend and handed him the bowl full of pancake batter. "But with her, you’re happy; you smile. You don’t have to pretend to be cool all the time, and you really talk to her. Plus, you take care of her, which is good because you’ve been breathing down my neck and acting like my mom for too long. I didn’t want to tell you, but you were suffocating me, and you finding a girlfriend would be great for my individuality, Steve."

Steve flipped the pancake to brown the other side while making a face.

"I get it, Henderson, you need space, and I’ll give it to you as soon as you help me with the coffee and leave."

Dustin scratched his nose and coughed. "Idiot."

Dustin was right; you brought out the best in him. Steve could talk to you without feeling like he had to impress you all the time. You made him feel butterflies in his stomach, but you didn’t make him act like an idiot. It was too hard for him to figure out if what he felt for you was a strong friendship or something more. He missed you during the weeks you were studying at the university, and when you came back to Hawkins, you were never close enough to him.

"I think it would be a big step date her instead of going on dates with a bunch of girls that end when you drop them off at their houses the next morning," Robin had told him one day when he decided to tell her his plan of helping you, while they were reorganizing the shelves at Family Video.

It had survived the earthquake, and Keith didn’t want to deal with the business anymore. Steve and Robin decided to take over; it wasn’t bad to have a business and extra money in their pockets. Max, Will, and Dustin took turns after school and officially entered the workforce, earning some cash they could spend on whatever those little gremlins spent their money on now.

"Robin, it’s already pretty weird to have an ex in your friend circle; two would be excessive, and it’s a risk I’m not willing to take."

His best friend let out a teasing laugh.

"Goofball, you just admitted you like her."

Obviously, Steve liked you, he thought while plating the pancakes after getting rid of Dustin and sending him off to Eddie’s house to plan their new campaign or something. Steve liked a lot of things and people, otherwise, he wouldn’t surround himself with them. The issue was figuring out what kind of feeling he had for you. It didn’t help that everyone else seemed to have it figured out except him. Plus, even if he did figure it out, what about you? What did you feel for him?

Steve was your damn hero, you thought as you stretched between the soft sheets of the most comfortable bed you’d ever tried and opened your eyes after a huge, unashamed yawn. You stared at the ceiling of the room, trying to contain your bliss. You looked at the clock on the nightstand beside the bed and quietly laughed when you saw that it read exactly noon. You’d slept more than twelve hours; that was more than you usually rested in a week at the university. You raised your fist in victory and got out of bed to brush your teeth and freshen up a bit before racing down the stairs two at a time to find Steve on the first floor. You found him squeezing orange juice in the kitchen when he looked at you, somewhat startled. You walked toward him with a smile, then gave him a big hug, burying your face in his chest and feeling him slowly return the embrace.

"Thanks, Steve. I really rested."

You pulled away from him and looked around. On a tray, there was corn syrup, raspberry pancakes, and freshly scrambled eggs.

"You made all this?"

Steve scratched his neck, somewhat embarrassed.

"Dustin came by to help me," he admitted, then looked at your rested face and couldn’t help but smile.

"That’s sweet of him."

If you had heard his string of complaints, you wouldn’t have found it so sweet. But he wouldn’t tell you that.

"Hungry?"

"Starving!"

Steve saw the spark in your eyes; even your smile was different when you rested. As you ate the breakfast with pleasure and asked about his graduation from the police academy, Steve watched you carefully, making sure you didn’t notice. Partly because he didn’t want you to think it was strange, but also because the small shot of adrenaline he got from doing so was addictive. He didn’t know what was happening. He’d known you for years, and you’d never been on his radar. He knew that if he tried hard enough, he could count the number of times you’d talked in high school on one hand. You had never been attractive to him in a way that would make him want to be friends, let alone anything more. It’s true that if he tried to remember, he would say you always had that pleasant smile and those big eyes that seemed to read whoever they saw. You were also pleasant; you never paid attention to Tommy and Carol and didn’t seem to care about fitting into the social hierarchy of school. You didn’t seem to mind being friends with him even after the Hawkins attack. Although it’s true you were always kind, he couldn’t say you became friends until a year or two ago. Steve had lived a life without you, but now, he found it hard to imagine the rest of his life without you in it.

Your heart seemed to hurt. It was strange because you were happy, very happy; you had a bath with aromatic salts, a nice dinner, and most importantly, a good rest and a delicious breakfast. But your heart hurt. Today was a good day, and you didn’t want to be ungrateful, but you wouldn’t always have this; and you weren’t talking about the shower, the food, or the oh-so-comfortable bed the size of a Cadillac. No, it was this—Steve. You couldn’t help but feel that your happiness had an expiration date, and it was very soon. Steve was being so nice to you that it hurt.

It hurt your stomach, your chest, and your mind.

You tried not to let it show, though, and in the afternoon, when Steve dropped you off in front of your house after spending the day lounging in his living room, eating leftovers from the night before, and watching comfort movies like The Breakfast Club and The Princess Bride (which Eddie had gotten through a not-quite-legal but also not-illegal way, since it had only been in theaters for a few months), you tried not to look at him too much or count the freckles on his neck because it was real torture. He had looked at you with those eyes and smiled while saying goodbye. You saw him watch you until you entered your house and waved goodbye one last time. He drove off, and you stood by the window because it was almost physically impossible for you to tear yourself away.

“So?” Your mother’s voice came from behind you, and that was the only thing that made you move. You turned to face her, still holding the bag with the soft pajamas that Steve had insisted you didn’t return.

“Steve told me his plan, did you manage to sleep?”

You nodded, and your mom came over to hug you while letting out little squeals of joy. You hid your face in her neck and began to cry. It took a few seconds before your mom noticed. Damn Steve Harrington and his consideration to tell your mom about his plan. Damn, damn him.

“What’s wrong?” your mom asked, concerned, cradling your face.

“I need help, mom,” you sniffled, and the sentence was barely understandable.

You saw your mom raise her eyebrows and nod.

“Of course, but what’s wrong? What are you feeling?”

You tried to breathe and put your hand over your chest.

“F-fear.”

Your mom’s expression softened, making her look younger when she seemed to understand what you meant.

“Oh, no, sweetheart. No.” She kissed your forehead and wiped your tears away with a small, comforting smile. “You’re in love.”

Yes, at least Steve had recognized the symptoms.

[tskumoyuuma]

it is very telling seeing whether people come out after watching "quiet on set" w the mindset of "yes drake bell was sexually abused as a minor BUT he also plead guilty to inappropriate interactions w a minor a few years ago" or "yes drake bell plead guilty to inappropriate interactions with a minor a few years ago BUT he was also sexually abused as a minor".

[merakiui]

i lied. so maybe i am a sebek fan like that,,,,

just thinking of sebek bringing you home for the holidays and preparing to introduce you to his family. his parents adore you, especially his mother, who cannot stop squishing your cheeks or commenting about how you're just the sweetest! and his father is just as kind and welcoming, gently teasing sebek who is so obviously fond of you. but his grandfather........ it caused quite the stir when his mother wished to marry his father, and sebek is already awkward and self-conscious enough being only half fae. he suspects baul will disapprove, albeit quietly so as not to disturb the peace of the holidays. but it's obvious in his actions that he's still not very fond of the idea of welcoming yet another human into the family bloodline.

sebek tells you this is just how his grandfather is and to not take it to heart. you know bits and pieces about the war he fought in from sebek, who tells the same tales his grandfather once shared, and they're all so impressive. you try to be understanding even though it's been years since that war and all has settled and changed for the better. it's a new era. humans and fae coexist peacefully and happily. but baul won't hear it. not from a human.

so you try to navigate this tense situation. sebek's siblings make things lighthearted, as do his parents, but there's always that feeling when you rest your head on the pillow and shut your eyes that you will never be enough in baul's eyes because you're human, and you can't change that. he can grumble all he wants, sebek will whisper to you as you cuddle close in his bed, but nothing is going to change his feelings for you. sebek loves you. and it's a wonderful reminder that soothes your heart. even so... you want to be on pleasant terms with baul.

just,,, maybe everyone else is preparing the holiday meal or setting the table and you're left alone. maybe you're flipping through a photo album or looking at the framed photos on the wall while you wait. baul who happens upon you and you try to take your leave, but then he starts talking about the memories associated with those photos and you linger because this is a first. pointing out the ones of his daughter and sharing all of the fond memories he has, and you realize he really does love his family. he's just stubborn (like a certain someone you know).

maybe you even share some of your own family memories from your world. baul who listens intently and it's the first time you find yourself having an cordial interaction with him. maybe even getting him to smile a bit when you mention sebek and how hard he works at school and how you're so grateful to be able to be here with him and meet his family.

shaking hands with him afterwards, and it's a very stiff handshake. but it's the thought that counts. and of course the moment is soon spoiled when you catch sebek's family, who were all peeking and listening in during your little moment, silently cheering you on LOL. baul who scoffs and gets flustered just like sebek and it's so silly to see their similarities.

slowly but surely, baul warms up to you.

100 pulls for sebek and i’m not even a sebek fan like that…………

[daisy-mooon]

"I want Annabeth to be blonde :(" then pick up a PJO book and read it you dumb fuck

[charrfie]

Spamton cares so much about other people and I'm tired of pretending he doesn't

[val-of-the-north]

-

You think they coexisted at some point? It would have probably been hilarious if they did lol

[thawthebeez]

i love reading haikyuu tiktok shipping discourse comment sections. it's so entertaining seeing so many people with such bad taste.

[jamiesfootball]

After careful consideration and a lot of angry tags, I think I have pinpointed for me where Ted Lasso, especially season three, fails to succeed all the way at the themes it explores.

The narrative uses the deconstruction of toxic masculinity to paint their characters as being stronger for having let go of their preconceived notions of acceptable behavior - but the narrative also never lets their characters be weak or fragile without having toxic masculinity to blame. And there are a lot of situations in this show where you would expect someone to go ‘hey man, are you okay? Are you doing alright? because that was a shit thing that happened. it’s okay if you’re not okay.’

And it never does.

There’s an undercurrent in how scenes play out that suggests that the male characters should be strong enough to deal with hand they’ve been dealt. The narrative suggests that they’re the ones who need corrected. They can act better, but they can not be treated better themselves as a result. The male characters are allowed to express themselves, but they are not allowed to ask for anything back from the situation.

Which is why you can have a fight with your assistant coach, but when he comes back to apologize you don’t articulate how it made you feel. You don’t tell your friend how he hurt your feelings. You just accept it and move on.

The Diamond Dogs give advice on how to handle external problems with  emotional roots. They never discuss how they feel internally on its own merit.

The closest we got to a male character just having a bad one and expressing it without a clear source of external conflict? Jamie in the boot room. And that was played for laughs.

Which is why you could be in a deep depression over losing your career of twenty years and part of your mobility, I guess. But also maybe that’s a problem of you not being able to let go, and maybe you should apologize for not moving on sooner? We should pity Roy for getting so stuck in his own shit all the time. Not because the man has lived an incredibly stressful and emotionally isolated life in a high pressure environment for so long he doesn’t have the tools to deal with it, but because the narrative would like us to know if he just stopped getting in his own way all the time, this wouldn’t be a problem.

Is your ex-wife seeing someone else, who happens to also be the person who was your marriage counselor? I don’t know man, relationships are hard. Don’t worry about how hard that must have shaken your trust in a profession that already made you feel skittish. Maybe you should stop obsessing over her and move on.

Your girlfriend can tell all your friends and coworkers how you’re too smothering. Yes, this is the ‘learn how to communicate better’ show, but that was on you, really. Good on you for apologizing for smothering her.

The women may have worrying relationships with people who love bomb them or turn out to be controlling, but Jane and Beard are just a bit weird. Don’t worry about it, Higgins.

You can take accountability for your actions, but if it was your email who was hacked - who cares? You apologized, and everyone is very proud of you. We won’t ever bring up how incredibly mortifying that must have been for you to realize, because something more mortifying happened to someone else.

You can show your emotions, but not the angry ones, not the bad ones - those you should get a hold on, no matter how warranted they are. The stronger you are, the more divorced from toxic masculinity you are, the less those things should matter.

Struggling with your abusive dad and how his relationship with you has literally scared you so badly that you keep looking over your shoulder, afraid he’ll be there? That is clearly the anger talking. This is definitely not a situation that calls for your pseudo-father figure to put his hand on your shoulder, look you in the eye, and say, “i’m really sorry to hear that, son, but you know we got your back. Ain’t nothing bad gonna happen to you while we’re here.” 

No no, this is a you problem and you can correct it by forgiving that man who hurt you. In fact, you thank him for motivating you. It was the anger that got you this far. It wasn’t getting up at 4am every morning for extra training. It wasn’t your mentor, the one invested all his time in helping you. It wasn’t the coach who gave you a second chance when you blew your whole life up to get away from that man. It wasn’t your own drive and passion and love for the sport that pushed you towards succeeding in a career you only had a one-in-a-million chance of ever getting. No, it was the anger that carried you. You should let that go. And hey - what if hypothetically speaking, he might try to be better too one day? You can’t hold it against him. You should let that go too.

Breakdowns and displays of crying are fine, but expecting people to care or show concern afterwards? The narrative doesn’t know her. The narrative will not validate that. We don’t see what happened after Wembley. We don’t see what happened when Isaac came back to the locker room after blowing up. What the show will validate, however, is moving on. Just be a goldfish, or forgive and forget. 

And finally-

Embrace your feelings, but not too hard - you can’t be trusted with them, actually.

Can you imagine that we actually got a scene of Roy telling Jamie that he was worried if either of them pursued Keeley it might ruin their friendship? Can you imagine? From the beginning they have butted heads. From the beginning, Roy has struggled to actually articulate his feelings, especially to the people they involve. And here is Roy doing exactly what the narrative has been teaching him to do - he voiced a feeling that was bothering him to the person who was involved in the problem. Unprompted. He did that on his own. After three seasons of being told that is what he should do when he has a problem, that should have been the moment of narrative reward. That would have been the audience’s release of tension: they’re still at odds, they’re still the same bull-headed people they’ve always been, but they’ve learned to talk about it. No matter what happens next, at least, they’ve gotten this far.

Instead the narrative rewarded him, and us, by having them fight it out in a back alley. Because they’re idiots, and they can’t be trusted to handle their feelings without someone else in the narrative (Keeley) setting them straight.

Yes, people backslide in real life all the time. But when the narrative backslides at the very end of the story - that’s just nihilism. That’s what this felt like - all that progress and promise that you can be better, and two of the people who struggled the most tripped at the finish line. The audience don’t even get to see them pick back up. I mean they’re fine now, I guess. They went for kebabs. I have to assume it worked out. I guess after that they found a way to be happy, but I would have preferred to see them find a way to be happy by way of their own actions. Not in a fanfic. Not by way of imagining how it went afterwards. Not by what’s implied in a montage. By the story actually showing me they could get there on their own.

And the worst part about all of this is that when the show gets it right? It fucking sings. The team coming together to repair Ola’s? That sings. Ted’s ‘ain’t nobody in this room alone’ speech? Wonderful. Trent telling Colin that ‘some people need time to adjust; it’s not fair, but they do’? So delicately wielded, so painful. Beard’s speech to Nate about stealing a loaf of meth? Chef’s kiss. Ted forgiving Rebecca when he learns why she brought him to coach Richmond? The tears in his eyes when he tells her ‘divorce is hard’?

The hug at Wembley.

That’s what I wanted, from start to finale. When the show knew how to wield its empathy, it wielded it like a knife, cutting into the deepest parts of your heart.

Which is why when it does mess up, it hurts so much worse. Because by season three, the show has sunk so far into the deconstruction of things that it’s forgotten that what it fixed were not the only problems those characters ever faced. The show zoomed in too close on the themes. It forgot that at its roots, the its biggest strength has been its empathy. And that to me is where the show failed.

[tetzoro]

i don’t think i’ve talked about it much on this blog because tbh it’s a really difficult thing for me to talk about in general but a year ago today, i lost my baby kitty zelda and i miss her so very much ᰔ

[fullc0llapse]