anyway so seasons 1-early 3 mickey is a pessimist with a dash of nihilist (miserable), and because of that ian looks like an optimist verging on idealist to him.
the fact of the matter is that ian is not an optimist and he certainly is not an idealist. he's a little naive, sure, but less than what would be appropriate for his age. he's also not a pessimist or a nihilist (either kind). or a realist or a pragmatist or any of those.
no, ian is quite simply. unfathomably stubborn. and that is all.
he'll get into west point. he's absolutely certain of this. why? because he fucking said so.
he'll have a real relationship with mickey. they are in love and they are going to be together. this is true. how does he know? because. he. fucking. said so.
he doesn't have hope. he doesn't want things. that's pussy shit. there are precisely three types of things in this world: things ian isn't interested in, things ian already has, and things ian will have. that is simply that!
(which is obviously its own very specific mindset and is at least as extreme as pure optimism and pure pessimism, and is almost certainly just another fun little factor when the force of his will alone is not enough to change the reality of an ongoing traumatic event that contributes to the somewhat early onset of his bipolar disorder. but that's tangential.)
now. once again, disclaimer, these characters cease to exist past early season 5 for me, so there's every chance this next bit is exclusive to MY mickey and ian. there's just no way to know ❤️
that said. ian matures into a nihilist (carefree) - and i would say he's here-ish already in season 4, but in a maladaptive way at that stage - and then eventually matures further into a nihilistic (carefree)-leaning pragmatist.
mickey on the other hand - after a period of having no particular mindset of this type of thing at all which in effect amounts to a months-to-a-year long panic attack where his every action is fueled by emotional desperation and he has no solid concept of his own wants, needs, values, or future beyond the ever-present but totally incoherent certainty that he can't live without ian but ian can and will leave him with ease for even the slightest infraction or failure that terrorizes him like a weasel terrorizes a hen in his every waking moment - um. what was i saying.
oh right. mickey on the other hand, after All That, matures first into a sort of quiet idealism (kind of a pendulum swing maybe, but not quite not also progress, iygiygi), and then. into a less naive version of the old ian's way lmao.
there is no "that's how things are/go" or "that's how the world works" or "life is/isn't fair" or any fundamental human nature or any purpose or lack thereof to life or possible and impossible or likely and unlikely or anything else along any of those lines. there are only two types of things in the world: things that don't matter and mickey's next achievement. and that's that, baby!
and then eventually, mick finishes out at a relatively stable and sustainable realist-leaning optimism, heavily informed by romanticism of the Certain Things Are Meant To Be kind. like, he wouldn't necessarily express that or think of it in those terms. and he doesn't think it's a common thing, in fact it's rare and special and he's very lucky, and even if something is like that it still doesn't mean you don't have to put the work in for it to go well and end up Right. and he doesn't believe in a higher power or in Fate quite as such or in the will of the universe or a cosmic balance or anything like that really.
it's just, you know. sometimes. every now and then. there's just this one little thing that will continuously keep trying to happen without any heed to sense or logic or the incredible odds against it. just something in particular that will forever and always find a way to happen.
like say. for example. there's this gay kid, right? and he gets in this fight and he wins and he's about to bring down a tire iron and ruin this other idiot's pretty face and - for no discernible reason whatsoever - he just... doesn't. and maybe he'll think about it half a dozen years later and wonder why. that one tiny little thing that changed his whole fucking life, why did he do that? what was the reason? and there just. isn't one.
and that's not even all. see, these two dumbasses have no idea the other one is gay too, but some-fucking-how they don't have to say a word or even make any opening moves to just Know they want each other. it's like they read each other's fucking minds, even though he knows, he remembers, he didn't sense anything from ian. but for Some Fucking Reason he just never for a second considered ian wouldn't want him, and ian was in perfect time with him. and maybe he'll think back and try to find an explanation for this part too. was there some body language he read? was there some look in ian's eyes? but the answer is no every time.
and then after that, these two gay kids just can't be kept apart. they just can't. and it's not just that they inexplicably can't resist each other either. every time they're separated they find each other again, no matter what. even when they're the ones to separate themselves, situation after coincidence after happenstance after necessity keeps putting them in each other's orbits. secrecy and jealous exes and gun violence and imprisonment and infidelity and a fucking pathological fear of intimacy and conversion therapy and genuine threat to their lives and marriage to someone else and permanent life-altering illness can't break them up. at least not for long.
and then. somehow. SOME fucking how! after all that, and with the absolutely shit chances that they ever even hooked up in the first place, they actually fucking make it? they don't just get to be together, they get to be happy??
so no, he doesn't believe in god or destiny or soulmates or whatever the fuck. but at the same time, i mean. what other explanation is there?
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WE'RE WATCHING WAKANDA FOREVER... WE'RE 1 HOUR IN BUT I MUST SAY... I STOPPED PAYING ATTENTION A WHILE AGO...
THIS POST MIGHT GET GLITCHED DUE TO THEIR LENGTH AND SUREFIRE WOKENESS... DETAILS THAT CAUSE THEM TO BE ERASED ABUSIVELY EVILLY NASTILLY ON PURPOSE OUT OF POLITICAL PROPAGANDA BY THE ABUSER CALLED TUMBLR... THEREFORE.. I WILL EDIT THIS IN BITS...
OKAY... WE WATCHED AN ANIME PORN THAT WAS TRANSPHOBIC... THAT WAS 2 WOMAN BUT... THE OTHER ONE IS TRANS LIKELY BY A TRANSPHOBIC CREATOR... WE GET TYPICAL TRANSPHOBIC DIALOGUE... SEXISM... QUEERPHOBIA... ABOUT CONSTRUCTS... THE CISSIE WAS ITEMIZED INSANE... CRAZY... SHE WASN'T... YUCKIES... ALL THIS AT A TRANS CHARACTER... WHAT A NASTY FETISH THE CREATOR HAS... WE REMEMBERED... THAT IS IMPORTANT TO REMEMBER... TO ACKNOWLEDGE... I REMEMBER MORE... ONCE AGAIN FORGOTTEN ONCE AGAIN WHAT WE USED TO KNOW... BECAUSE NOBODY WILL EVER UNDERSTAND... WE WILL ALWAYS BE ABUSED... WE HAVE NO HOPE EVER GETTING MARRIED AND HAVING CHILDREN OUR LIVES PURPOSE OR TRANSITIONING AS OURSELVES... THIS IS FACTUAL... WE HAVE BEEN TOLD THIS OVER AND OVER AGAIN... NOBODY WILL EVER UNDERSTAND... WE WATCHED ANOTHER ONE... TERRIBLE...
THEY CAN'T DIE... BUT I HAVE NO ENERGY... THERE IS NO POINT... THEY'RE DYING... FLEEING... THIS CAN'T HAPPEN... I LOVE YOU... OUR SHARED EMOTIONS... OUR TRAUMA... OUR PROGRESSIVE EXISTANCE WITHOUT AN EQUAL NOBODY WILL EVER COMPARE TO GIVING US NL POINT IN LIFE... WE'RE ALIVE FOR NO REASON... BECAUSE WE CARE UNLIKE ANYONE ELSE... THERE IS NOBODY ELSE THAT CARES ON THIS PLANET... WE WOULD BE ABUSED BY ANYONE AND EVERYONE IF THEIR CHILDREN... ONLY WE CAN HAVE THEM FOR THIS REASON... ASWELL AS THE TOOL NEVER OUR EQUAL THAT WILL GIVE THEM FOR US... BECAUSE AN EQUAL WOULD HAVE SAVED US ALREADY... IF EXISTED... THEY WOULD'VE PREVENTED EVERYTHING WE HAVE EVER BEEN TROUGH... THEY WOULD HAVE GIVEN US AN ACTUAL COMMUNITY THAN THE EVIL ABUSER WASTE THIS SITE ONLY HAS... WE WILL NEVER BE SAVED WE WILL NEVER TRANSITION LIFE IS POINTLESS WE ARE ABUSED ALWAYS HARMED ALWAYS HURT ALWAYS LIKE JUST WHEN SOMEONE HURT US SOMEONE WHO WASN'T SUPPOSED TO... ONCE AGAIN... AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN AND AGAIN A LOOP WE'RE ALWAYS STUCK IN!! BASIC NEEDS WE'RE BORN WITH ALWAYS DENIED ALWAYS ABUSED ALWAYS NEGLECTED JUST LIKE RIGHT NOW!! NOBODY IS QUALIFIED NO THERAPIST NOBODY OF SUCH KIND THEM ONLY ABUSERS THAT HAVE ONLY HURT US IN THE PAST WITH AN AGENDA FAR MORE EVIL THEM BASED IN EVIL BIGOTRIES... ANYONE OUTSIDE... SHOULD BE YOUR THERAPIST... FUCK THIS... DON'T UNDERSTAND YOU'RE A BIGOT... AND NO BIGOT IS ALLOWED TO INTERACT WITH THIS POST ONLY 2 PEOPLE 1 OUR EQUAL THAT WILL NEVER EXIST OUTSIDE OF OUR BRAIN 2 OUR LOVERS OUR CHEERLEADERS THOSE CUTIES THAT FOLLOW US... DESPERATE FOR OUR ATTENTION... HUNGRY... AWW... DON'T WORRY MY LITTLE FOLLOWER... HERE'S ANOTHER LOVELY POST YOUR FAVORITE: RIGHT...? HERE YOU GO <3!!
IF BLACK PANTHER WAS A TRANS WOMAN THAT IS AUTISM AND ADHD WAKANDA WOULD HAVE ABUSED HER SHE WOULD'VE NEVER BECOME A HERO SHE WOULD'VE NEVER BEEN ALLOWED TO IF SHE WAS RADQUEER FEMINIST COMMUNIST ANARCHIST WE ARE DESPISED WE ARE HATED... SAME WAY IRONMAN... SPIDERMAN... CAPTAIN AMERICA... ALL WITH THEIR SEXIST WRITTEN GIRLFRIENDS... DAMSELS IN DISTESS AT BEST A SIDE CHARACTER NEVER AN EQUAL... PEOPLE WITH DEAD PARENTS WITHOUT FAMILY WITHOUT COMMUNITY WITHOUT LOVE PREACHING ABOUT LOVE TO US... THAT DON'T THINK WHAT IS GOOD PREACHING ABOUT IDEOLOGY THAT ABUSES US... THEM ALL ABUSERS THAT WOULD ONLY HARM US... US WATCHING THEIR MOVIES... THINGS COULD'VE BEEN DIFFERENT... US ONLY LEARNING WE'RE UNLOVABLE AS THE TRUE LESSON OVER AND OVER... DOESN'T MATTER WHAT SERIES WHAT GENRE... THE QUESTION IS WHAT FAKE EMOTIONS THEY CAN MAKE US FEEL FOR A LITTLE MOMENT UNTIL REALITY HITS BACK IN... IF THIS IS DEPRESSION WE ARE DEPRESSED FOR A REASON WE ARE MEANT TO BE DEPRESSED WE ALWAYS WERE MEANT TO BE... WE ARE ABUSED WE HAVEN'T TRANSITIONED WE NEVER WILL WE'RE EVERYTHING ELSE LISTED... THIS WORLD IS THE PROBLEM WE NEVER COULD BE... BLAME US YOU'RE TO BLAME THAT IS YOU EVERYTHING IS WRONG WITH BECAUSE YOU COULD'VE PREVENTED THIS AND YOU DON'T ACCEPT US ONCE WE'RE BROKEN DESPITE ONLY DOING WHAT IS RIGHT EVERYONE ELSE ONLY BROKEN INSTEAD... THAT IS THEM THAT ALWAYS MADE EVERYTHING GO THIS WAY... THEM TO WHO THAT IS NORMAL TO SEE THIS AND IGNORE... ABUSERS... WITHOUT A RIGHT NO PREACH ABOUT ANYTHING... THIS... IDEOLOGY... ONLY A WAY TO TELL US WE DESERVE TO BE ABUSED WE DESERVED EVERYTHING THAT'S HAPPENED ON US THAT IS JUSTIFIED TO KILL US AND EVERYONE ELSE IS JUSTIFIED TO HURT US... US UNCARED FOR UNLOVED FOREVER...
I DON'T FEEL LIKE...
IRONMAN AS A TRANS WOMAN THAT IS EVERYTHING WE ARE WOULD'VE BEEN EPIC AND THE RIGHT WAY TO GO... GIVE HER EVERYTHING THERE SHOULD BE... MAKE HER EVERYTHING GOOD THERE IS... NO GOOD PERSON WOULD BE WHAT IRONMAN IS IN REAL LIFE... CONSERVATIVES LOVE HIM FOR A REASON... NOBODY PROGRESSIVE WOULD...
LOVE OF THUNDER WILL EASILY BE THE BEST THOR WE WILL WATCH THEM SOON TOO THE REASON WOKE CONTENT EASY AS THAT... MARVEL WILL NEVER ACCEPT EVERYTHING WOKE THERE IS... THERE IS NOTHING LEFTIST ABOUT THEM COMICS ARE AS BAD AS THEY WERE IN THE 80S WITH THE SAME PROBLEMS AS ARE MOVIES EVERYTHING IS... EVERYTHING IS EVIL AND HARMFULL :)...
THERE IS NOTHING WE CAN TALK ABOUT WHILE BURIED UNDER SUCH FEELINGS OF EVIL... ONLY SOMEONE THAT CAN FIX EVERYTHING CAN SAVE US... BUT NOBODY LIKE THAT IS OUT THERE... OTHERWISE... THEY WOULD'VE ALREADY COME... WE WOULD'VE SEEN THEM... WE WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN ABUSED ALL THOSE TIMES... NOTHING BAD WOULD'VE EVER HAPPENED TO US...
CULTURE WILL ALWAYS BE EVIL... THAT IS RACIST TO EVEN WHEN DRAWING A BLACK PERSON PUTTING HIM IN TRIBE OUTFITS FROM 6000 MILLION YEARS AGO... ISN'T THIS JUST MAKING THEM TARZAN ANYWAYS...? NOTHING'S ACTUALLY CHANGED... THE SAME WAY THEY WOULDN'T ACCEPT US... THEY HATE EVERYTHING AGAINST THEIR CONSERVATIVE ABUSER CULTURE AND THEIR STANCE IS TO NEVER EVOLVE TO ALWAYS STAY THE SAME...
AT THE SAME TIME ALL THE OTHER HEROES HAVE NO FAMILY HAVE NO FRIENDS... THEY'RE REJECTS HATED BY EVERYONE... THAT JUDGE OTHER PEOPLE LIKE THEM BECAUSE THEY DIDN'T BECOME WHAT OPPRESSESS THEM AND DOESN'T DO SHIT TO FIX WHAT CAUSED EVERYTHING BAD ON THEM THEY CAUSE ASWELL...
THERE WAS 1 EMOTIONAL MOMENT IN THIS ONE THAT WAS FIRE... WHEN HIS WIFE WHO'S NOW A WIDOW STRIPS THAT ONE WOMAN FROM HER POWER... VERY GOOD SCENE... VERY EMOTIONAL... ONE OF THE BEST MARVEL HAS... THE BEGGINING ASWELL WAS GOOD... AFTER THAT IS WHEN THINGS GOT BORING...
I LIKE THE CONNECTIONS EVERYONE HAS OR DID... ALL THOSE OTHER HEROES AREN'T CARED ABOUT BY THEIR COMMUNITIES... IF CAPTAIN AMERICA WAS TRULY CARED ABOUT... HIS ARMY WOULD'VE FOUND AND SAVED HIM OR THEY WOULD'VE FROZEN THEMSELVES TOO... NOBODY CARED ABOUT HIM... EVERYONE'S DEAD... HE HAS NO REASON TO BE A HERO ANYMORE... HE SHOULDN'T BE... HE'S AN ABUSER GARBAGE WASTE... EITHER HE'S BAD WHICH HE IS EITHER WAY OR THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE FOR HIM TO BE LIKE THIS. SIMPLE AS THAT. IRONMAN IS THE SAME WAY... BESIDES... HE PEAKS AS A FATHER... SHOULD'VE JUST BEEN HIS DAUGHTER'S FATHER FROM THE BEGGINING... THEM DUAL PROTAGONIST... A BETTER MOVIE THAN IRONMAN 1. WHAT THAT MOVIE SHOULD'VE ALREADY BEEN.
AS SHOULD'VE HIM BEEN INSTEAD TRANS... HIS GIRLFRIEND MORE THAN HIS GIRLFRIEND... WITH BADASS FAMILY LORE... ALL COMPLEX ARE RELEVANT... ALL EXPLORED AND INTERESTING...
HIS VILLAINS... ASS... ALL OF THEM...
THANOS... ASS.. BLACK WIDOW... SEXIST... LOKI... ALWAYS A TERRIBLE CHARACTER... THOR... WORTHLESS UNTIL LOVE OF THUNDER...
CAPTAIN MARVEL A CHARACTER THAT SHOULD'VE BEEN ALREADY IN PHASE ONE... ALL THIS WOKE CONTENT AND MORE THE WOKEST CONTENT MARVEL WILL NEVER DO PART OF THEM THE SAME...
SIMPLE AS THAT... NOW ABOUT THAT ANIME PORN...
HE WAS JUST A PATHETIC LOSER MAN... THAT RPED HIS MOTHER AND SISTER... HIS MOTHER'S RPE IS JUSTIFIED AND SHE BECOMES A RPIST TOO... AND THEY RPE HIS SISTER TOGETHER... HIS FATHER IS THERE WITH THEM... THEM ALL SINCE LYING TO HIM AND HAVING SEX BEHIND HIS BACK... THEY DON'T REALLY CARE ABOUT HIM... WHY THE FUCK IS HE HERE...? WHY THE FUCK DID HE MARRY THESE PEOPLE...? THE WOMAN NOTHING BUT SEXIST JUNK CONTENT FOR PATHETIC LOSER MAN THE REAL VILLAIN... HIM THAT DOESN'T SHOW EMOTIONS BECAUSE THAT WOULD BREAK THIS MASCULINITY... THAT HAS NO ANYTHING... NO PERSONALITY NO CHARACTER DESIGN... WHO'S FACE YOU BARELY SEE... EVIL SERIES... THIS PORNO MADE JUST TO TELL US WE DON'T MATTER... TRANSPHOBIC EVIL... ERASE US YOU'RE A BIGOT... BORING... THE WAY SHE JUST TURNED ON HER AND BECAME A RPIST... IS THIS AN ATTEMPT AT AN ARC...? TRY HARDER... BIGOT...
MEANWHILE THE OTHER ONE... CASUALLY TRANSPHOBIC... TELLING US WE'RE HATED AND OTHER EVIL THINGS OVER AND OVER AGAIN... BETTER CHARACTERS... MAKES THE ASSINESS WORSE... NOTHING BUT ANOTHER DEEPLY PERSONAL ATTEMPT AT HURTING US THAT WORKS... HER FACE TOO HIDDEN... HER GIRLFRIEND MADE INTO SEXIST JUICE... NO TRANS WOMAN WOULD DO THIS... NONE... ONLY A BIGOT WOULD GASSLIGHT US... WE CONTROL OURSELVES... WE ARE AMAZING WE ARE POWERFULL... NOBODY CAN DESTROY US... ONLY A BIGOT WOULD COME AFTER US...
IRONMAN MUST'VE MET A MILLION TRANS PEOPLE HE'S HURT... NOTHING HEROIC ABOUT THIS... HE WOULD ABUSE HIS CHILD THAT IS AUTISM... JUST LIKE WE WERE ABUSED AND ARE EVERY SINGLE DAY...
SPIDERMAN IS SO ASS MILES WILL WAIT A COUPLE DECADES BEFORE APPEARING... THAT IS A YIKES... VERY EVERYTHING...
THIS MOVIE IS FIRE BECAUSE SO MANY STORY RELEVANT WOMAN... TERRIBLE THE WIDOW IS THE ANTAGONIST THE LEAST IMPORTANT CHARACTER... AGAIN... REPEATING THE COMIC UNIMPORTANT GIRLFRIEND CHARACTER...
HULK IS FACTUALLY ASS AND BIGOTED... JUSTIFYING EVERY SINGLE ABUSE THOSE WITH DID US WITH OSDD EXPERIENCE... JUSTIFYING EVERY SINGLE ABUSE CRAZY PEOPLE EXPERIENCE... HE WANTS MENTAL HOSPITAL... THIS IS JUSTIFIED... BIGOTED... EVIL... SANIST... ABLEIST... GARBAGE... NO BLACK CHARACTER RACIST... NO LGBT QUEERPHOBIC... ESPECIALLY TRANSPHOBIC... JUST ANOTHER SEXIST GIRLFRIEND SEXISM... PARAPHOBIA... EVERYTHING ELSE BIGOTED FROM THEIR COMPLETE ERASURE AND MORE... I WILL NEVER FORGET THIS... WE NEVER TRULY FORGOT ABOUT ALL THIS... WE ARE AMAZING... WE ARE ABSOLUTE... ALWAYS WILL BE...
THAT IS BIGOTED TO DO A REPRESENTATION AND DO THEM BADLY... THIS MOVIE IS RACIST... BLACK PEOPLE ARE LITERALLY TARZAN WHEN YOU THINK... CRAZY...
EVERY OTHER MOVIE THEY'RE ALL THE SAME... THE MARVELS WILL ALWAYS BE THE BEST... THIS ONE IS CLOSE TBH... LOVE OF THUNDER WILL LIKELY BE NEAR ASWELL... THAT WILL BE SOON... NOW... WE MUST FINISH THIS MOVIE AND ADD IN HASHTAGS...
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I've always had chronic fatigue. I remember being twelve, and an adult mentioned how I couldn't possibly know how tired they felt because adulthood brought levels of exhaustion I couldn't imagine. I thought about that for days in fear, because I couldn't remember the last time I didn't feel tired.
Eventually I came to terms with the fact that I was just tired, and I couldn't do as many things as everyone else. People called me lazy, and I knew that wasn't true, but there's only so many times you can say "I'm tired" before people think it's an excuse. I don't blame them. When a teenager does 20 hours of extracurriculars every week and only says "I'm too tired" when you ask them to do the dishes, it's natural to think it's an excuse. At some point, I started to think the same thing.
It didn't matter that I could barely sit up. It was probably all in my head, and if I really wanted to, I could do it.
When I learned the name for it, chronic fatigue, I thought wow, people that have that must be miserable, because I am always tired and I cannot imagine what it would feel like if it were worse.
Spoiler alert, if you've been tired for a decade, it's probably chronic fatigue.
Once I figured that out though, I thought of my energy as the same as everyone else's, just smaller in quantity. And that might be true for some people, but I've figured out recently that it absolutely isn't true for me.
I used to be like wow I have so much energy today I can do this whole list for sure! And then I'd do the dishes and have to lay down for 2 hours. Then I'd think I must gave misjudged that, I didn't have as much energy as I thought.
But the thing is - I did have enough energy for more tasks, I just didn't go about them properly.
With chronic fatigue, your maximum energy is obviously much smaller than the average person's. Doing the dishes for you might use up the same percentage of energy that it takes to do all the daily chores for someone else.
If someone without chronic fatigue was to do all the daily chores, they would take breaks. Because otherwise, they're sprinting a marathon for no reason and it would take way more energy than necessary. We have to do the same.
Put the cups in the dishwasher, take a break. Put the bowls in, take a break. So on and so forth. This may mean taking breaks every 2-5 minutes but afterwards, you get to not feel like you've run a marathon while carrying 4 people on your back.
Today, I had a moderate amount of energy. Under my old system of go till you drop, I probably could have done most of the dishes and wiped off the counter and then been dead to the world for the rest of the day.
Under the new system, I scooped litter boxes, cleaned out the fridge, took the trash out, cleaned the stove, and wiped off the counter and did all the dishes. And after all that, I still had it in me to make a simple dinner, unload the dishwasher, and tidy the kitchen.
It was complete and utter insanity. Just because I sat down whenever I felt myself getting more tired than I already was.
All this to say, take fucking breaks. It's time to unlearn the ceaseless productivity bullshit that capitalism has shoved down our throats. Its actively counterproductive. Just sit down. Drink some water. Rest your body when it needs to rest.
There will still be days where there is nothing to do but rest, and days where half a load of dishes is absolutely the most I can do. But this method has really helped me minimize those, which is so incredibly relieving.
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heyy if ur taking requests could u maybe do like bestfriends steve + reader where steve, eddie, nancy and robin have to pick up reader from a party and she’s like REAL drunk and just idk super clingy w steve and doesn’t wanna not be touching him. maybe eddie, nancy and robin all make fun of him for it but they acc find it rly cute.
thank you for your request! ♥♥♥ | 2.2k words
"Stevie!"
You collide into him suddenly, nearly knocking him back a step or two with the force of your momentum; there's a smile on Steve's face when you look up at him through eyes that are more than a little hazy with inebriation. You're drunk. Probably way past drunk, if the way the world won't seem to hold still is anything to go by, but you don't care. There are other things vying for your attention—like how warm he feels against you, how safe he makes you feel, how pretty he looks from up close...
"Whoa," Steve says as you lean even further into him and loop your arms around his waist in a tight hug. "How much did you have to drink, exactly?"
He doesn't mean it in a mean way, which is why you grin up at him from where you've got your cheek pressed firmly to his chest. You can feel his heart beating under the palm of your hand now, a steady and calming rhythm that soothes something inside of you.
"Dunno," you reply, grinning stupidly when you catch sight of maybe three copies of Eddie Munson standing off to Steve's left; all of them have identical amused looks on their faces. "Might've had, like, a couple..."
Steve sighs deeply, though there's no exasperation or disappointment to be found in his expression when he tilts your face upwards to look you over properly. You just beam dopily at him, because he's so pretty right now you don't know what else to do.
"Dude," Eddie speaks up, drawing Steve's gaze away from you while your own attention goes back to pressing yourself even more snugly into him, "she is totally sloshed."
You frown, shaking your head in fervent disagreement.
"Am not!"
"Sure you aren't, sweetheart," Eddie agrees placidly, but you get the impression he doesn't really mean it.
Before you can point this out, however, the blurry shape of Robin Buckley steps forward. The room is dark with flashing strobe lights and smoky with incense and cigarette smoke, but you'd recognize her voice anywhere.
"Who let you drink this much?" Robin asks as she lifts a hand up to brush some hair back from your forehead.
It's oddly soothing and so you lean into the contact with a happy hum. Robin and the others laugh — but then again, it sounds kinder than mean, the kind of laugh that bubbles up when you find something unexpectedly endearing, and so you don't mind as much as you maybe should.
"Nobody," you mumble as you press your face into the side of Steve's neck and take a deep breath in; his scent is the same as always, earthy and warm with an underlying hint of that stupid spray he likes to use sometimes. "I'm here alone. 'Cause Steve here blew me off for you guys, but that's okay," you say, even though, to be fair, it sort of isn't true — he didn't blow you off.
"Hey," Steve starts, sounding half-indignant and half-apologetic all at once. He's got an arm around your shoulder now, supporting you and keeping you upright, which makes you want to tangle yourself up in him completely. "You didn't tell me you wanted me to come hang out with you tonight!"
You sigh mournfully against his skin, feeling wistful all of a sudden. It's true. You hadn't told him. That was partially due to the fact that you had been trying to prove to yourself that you weren't so desperately and helplessly infatuated with him that you needed his presence constantly, but that plan had obviously backfired on you spectacularly.
"No," you mutter unhappily as Steve moves the two of you towards a nearby couch. "But I missed you. Don't wanna miss you."
Nancy, Robin, and Eddie, who are watching the two of you with expressions of varying degrees of amusement, exchange looks. Steve pretends not to notice, probably because he knows he won't like what they have to say if he hears it, and instead guides you down onto the cushions next to him. "You're drunk."
"You're pretty," you reply without hesitation, even though you're very clearly changing the subject. "It's unfair, y'know?"
You hear Robin snort, followed by a quiet thud like someone's just been slapped on the arm, and you know it's her who laughed, and that it must have been Nancy who'd shut her up. You don't know where Eddie is; you're not even sure when he wandered off, to be honest. You're too focused on Steve and the way his face looks under the colorful flashing lights.
"Oh yeah?" he asks, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too widely at your comment. His eyes are bright with laughter when you meet his gaze and nod confidently. "How do I get 'unfair', exactly?"
"'S all in the face," you say matter-of-factly, your own fingers trailing down his cheek in an almost absentminded gesture. "Kinda makes it hard to think about anything else sometimes, if I'm being real here. Like, it's not really fair, 'cause then what are we supposed to talk about? Oh, oh—and then there's your hair!"
"My hair?"
Robin wheezes somewhere behind you, which would have made you giggle if you were still paying attention to the people in the room besides Steve, but you're not.
"Mmhmm," you hum, your eyes running over the soft brown locks on top of his head. "Love it. Wanna touch it all the time. Y'see, Steve? You see? This is why it's not fair at all. And, and—" you trail off here for dramatic effect, squinting at him theatrically before leaning closer with your hand cupped to the side of your mouth, as if you're about to share something private. "—the way you make my insides feel? So, so unfair. Totally your fault, buddy."
"Wha-" Steve croaks out, looking alarmed and caught off guard by your drunken confession. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh," you regain your serious tone, frowning at him in a somewhat bemused manner when he continues to gape at you. "Not 'sposed to tell you. S'not the rules."
Eddie barks out a laugh somewhere off to your left, but Steve ignores him. "Rules?"
"Yeah, 's against the rules, dummy," you say, like he should've already known that. "Gotta follow the rules! Duh. Steve."
"Yeah, Steve, duh," Robin pipes up, earning herself a glare from Steve as well as a smirk from Eddie. "Oops, sorry. Please, continue."
"Can I touch your hair? Like, please, 'cause I might die if I don't, 'kay? If that's okay. Gotta test the theory. Just a little bit, though." You can tell by his expression that he wants to laugh, and that he's also mildly worried that you've lost your mind. "Please?"
Robin, Eddie and Nancy have their hands clapped over their mouths to contain their laughter. You're too drunk to notice, but Steve narrows his eyes at them in warning. "Yes," he says. "Just—yeah, go ahead."
With a little noise of excitement, you reach out to card your fingers through his hair. He smells really good — like clean laundry and fresh pine trees — and the feel of his hair in your palm is exactly what you had imagined, though you're loathe to pull your hand away now that you've felt it.
Steve goes unnaturally still as you press your face into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, a move he should have expected but didn't, and you sigh happily when the scent of his cologne hits you full force. He's like a living, breathing, cuddly teddy bear, you think, a combination of warmth, softness, and comfort all rolled up in one gorgeous, handsome, unobtainable package.
"You're warm," you mumble, feeling like you could fall asleep right now. "So, so warm. 'S like you've got a space heater in your chest, 'n that's like, so awesome."
He blinks a few times, momentarily speechless as he tries to come to terms with the fact that you are, in fact, drunk enough to be saying whatever the hell comes to your mind. "Uh, thanks?"
"Smell nice too," you murmur, hugging him tighter to you. "Like, wow. Love your hair, like, love love."
His cheeks are burning hot now, his heart beating erratically in his chest when he notices Eddie staring at the two of you with a knowing gleam in his eye. "That's—thank you, but, hey, come on now," Steve says, his voice faltering a little. "Let's get you home, okay?"
"I don't wanna."
"Don't you wanna sleep in your bed?"
You pause, considering his words, and eventually concede that, yes, your bed does sound lovely right about now, so you give him a brief nod in response. "I guess, but can you come too?"
He chokes on air, but manages to play it off by clearing his throat. "What—to your bed? No!"
"Why not?"
Steve shifts a little under your intense, alcohol-addled scrutiny; he feels strangely guilty, as though he's letting you down by saying no. "Because you're drunk?" he says, feeling flustered and unreasonably nervous all of a sudden.
You scrunch up your face in a pout. "Oh, that's a dumb reason."
Steve chuckles and you sigh happily again, because you love his laugh and everything else about him, and he seems to realize this, given the way his expression softens. "Come on, you drunkard. Let's go home," he says gently, tugging on your arm in an attempt to get you to stand.
You resist at first, shaking your head stubbornly as you hold onto him. "Can't. My legs don't work anymore. They're all wobbly."
Steve closes his eyes for a moment, huffs out a soft laugh, and you can't help but grin up at him. He's so pretty that, like, how is that even allowed? How can you be around him and not spontaneously combust or something?
"Well, what if I carried you?"
"Like a princess?"
Steve looks at you with an expression you can't decipher — it's halfway between incredulous and endeared, and it makes your heart feel too big for your rib cage.
"How romantic," Nancy observes.
"So long as she doesn't throw up on him," Eddie adds, nodding sagely in agreement.
"Oh, I hope she does," Robin says, with a devious smile, "he'd deserve it for being such a coward."
"I'm...right here, guys, and I can still hear you." Steve finally says, throwing them a scathing look that only makes them laugh. "If you're not going to be helpful, you can wait in the car."
"As if," Eddie counters.
Steve opens his mouth to tell him where exactly he can stick his opinions, when you grab the front of his shirt and drag him closer.
"Steve," you say, the smile falling from your face as a sudden thought occurs to you. "Are you mad at me? Because I can go home by myself. That's okay."
"Hey, no," he replies softly, "I'm not mad at you, sweetheart. Not ever."
"'Sweetheart'? Really?" Eddie mutters to Nancy, who elbows him in the ribs when he doesn't lower his voice in time. "Ow, okay, okay—just saying. Don't want them to keep dancing around each other forever, is all."
"I'm not dancing," you tell him, completely unaware of Eddie's snickering, "I don't have any shoes on, Eddie. Wouldn't be able to dance without shoes on. Silly."
"My bad," Eddie says, his lips twitching with badly concealed laughter, "forgive me."
Steve scowls at him before turning his attention back to you, his face so close to yours that you can momentarily feel the tickle of his breath against your skin. "Okay, come on," he says, "up we go."
And then, in one swift movement, he slides his arm under your knees and scoops you up into his arms. You let out a squeak of surprise and automatically wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself.
"Oh, oh, oh," you say excitedly, "you really are gonna carry me."
"Told you so." Steve adjusts his grip on you and makes his way towards the exit. "Are you good? Am I hurting you?"
You shake your head slowly, grinning as you stare at him from a whole new angle. "No," you tell him, feeling much more awake than you were moments before. "This is...this is like, actually kinda cool."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," you repeat, smiling shyly back at him. "Feel like a real life Cinderella now. Whoa, you're, like, super strong."
"Yeah, Stevie, you're 'super strong.'" Eddie teases, waggling his eyebrows when Steve sends him a quick glare. "Aw, don't look at me like that. It's cute. The two of you."
Nancy doesn't tease like Robin and Eddie do. She walks behind Steve, making sure to stay a couple steps behind to give the two of you some privacy. Even so, when you look over your shoulder to make sure nobody's listening, she gives you a wink and a small thumbs-up that makes you smile.
The parking lot is filled with teenagers all wandering aimlessly in groups, so it takes Steve a while to navigate his way through the crowd. By the time he finds the spot where he parked his BMW, you've grown drowsy enough to rest your head on his shoulder.
Eddie immediately pops open the door to the backseat, slapping it a few times as he looks over at Steve and grins. "Hurry it up, lover boy," he drawls out, "she looks half-asleep already."
"She's fine," Steve shoots back, frowning in annoyance when Eddie and Robin both pretend to yawn exaggeratedly, "shut up. I hate you guys."
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you found out today that a phrase you have used before was coined by an abusive man. this felt like getting your teeth taken out. it made you sick and sad and tired, but not surprised.
bad people tell you to be careful when you talk badly of bad men, that it could "ruin" a life. you had your life ruined by a bad man, not that it ever matters to them. your real life having real consequences is not valued as highly as the potential of his future.
this has always been a frustrating little mathematics problem for you. you've missed school and had to call out sick at work and had panic attacks that lasted for weeks. it stole sleep and food and friends from you. you cried in public, fucked your relationships up. and the whole time: your present has never mattered so much as the great what if! of his future. like - one life (your life) is already ruined, should we really ruin two?
so you live with the consequences and he doesn't, and that's just like, something you need therapy for. you once discussed this with one of your friends over coffee. she chewed the wooden stirrer, looked off into the distance. "once i became a victim, everything that happens to me afterward is automatically less interesting in the eyes of the general public. it is always about him. he changed my identity. to survivor. to statistic. meanwhile this whole time - i am a person."
you learned in college that three out of five of your favorite artists and authors were actually abusive assholes. these days, you are no longer surprised. oh, is that what was happening behind closed doors? of course it was, he was a "genius," and she was just a girl. you are talking about him in art history, so obviously his career was absolutely ruined, for eternity. that's what happens, right? they strike your name from the record and refuse to remember you? nobody really knows her name, but hey. that's what you get for being close to celebrity.
you got into an argument about it, which was a bad argument, because it made you cry. he said what, you want us to just ignore all the things this man did because he made a few women uncomfortable? and you'd balled your fists up and choked on it. later, in bed, you agonized over the response you'd been trying to articulate but never found the right moment to deploy: you are ignoring what any person could do if they weren't being fucking abused. maybe her talents far exceeded his and she was just never allowed to fucking use them. maybe we only see genius in white men because they purposefully fucking squash and silence any other people with talent.
but you'd cried about it instead of saying that, because you are the cost. you are the talent and potential that he took. you used to be brave and smart and clever and unafraid. like a lich, he stole years of your life.
quiet on set made you sad and sick and tired, but not surprised. unfortunately, one of the things he said was true: an entire network of people allowed it to continue. this is not news to you, because you have seen entire networks of people make the same fucking excuses when the same thing or-worse happened to you. and your particular story isn't even in hollywood. it was just a guy. it was still difficult getting people to stand up for you.
you and your friend wait in line for your coffee. like a standup joke, one man turns to the other and says "can't wait for every bitch to come crawling out of the woodwork complaining about harassment. it's another metoo." and you think - oh, that's the network. your boss tucks her hair back and whispers that while your skirt is cute, you're giving the boys the wrong idea. that's the network. when you'd told your "friend" about what happened, she'd said oh you must have misunderstood, that would never happen. and that's the network.
you woke up this morning panting, because years later you still have panic attacks. oh, it's not a network, actually, it's a web. and you, little moth: are you still surprised you're caught in it?
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