#words from a stranger

[wordsfromastranger]

If love was a question

If love was a question Willingly getting lost in someone would be the brief answer If love was a question Don’t ask a descriptive answer My explanation will not be able to justify answer But if the poetry becomes my rescuer, this is what I would’ve answered “With no expectations I’m heading into a path unknown to the mind but yet very known warmth and my heart is smiling I am sure to not…

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

How much longer 'til your luck runs out?

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[contagious-watermelon]

Why do I keep seeing transmascs and trans men insisting or implying that all trans men are "female socialized," or "understand the female experience," or "navigated the world as a woman." Because yeah, sure, that can be true for some people. especially if you weren't gnc at all as a kid and didn't crack your egg until well into adulthood, it makes sense.

But they don't stop at saying they had that experience. It always comes with an addendum that trans men, as a group, all can relate to this experience. I don't know about the entirety of my demographic, but I never got even a little bit of what some of them talk about. I didn't even believe that women were scared of going out at night until I kept consistently seeing them say it, online or wherever, for years. I never realized catcalling was a thing until I saw some women complaining about it on reddit.

But they posit it as some sort of, you're safer than cis men, right? You know what it's like? Which, on top of being patently, demonstrably false in the case of myself and many other trans men, holds some unpleasant and often outright hostile implications about trans women. And they always deny it, but if you can't even conceptualize someone like me who grew up gnc, and never got the bulk (or any?) of whatever we consider to be 'female socialization,' what does that say about what you think trans girls went through, growing up? I don't want to speak for them, as I've never experienced that firsthand, but I can guarantee that (if you're even a little bit obviously trans) people don't treat you like a cis kid of the opposite gender. By and large, they don't get treated like cis boys.

It just makes me mad that we're taking this inaccurate framework that (ever so conveniently) puts trans people into the box of our assumed birth gender, and trying to fancy it up and use it with a faux-progressive veneer; never mind the way that transphobes use it to bar trans women from being athletes, or using the bathroom, or having access to any gendered resources they need. It would be bad enough to try and dust it off and use it even if it were largely accurate, due to the aforementioned connections to outright transphobia, but it literally is patently false. Not in all cases, obviously, but why are we trying to revamp this untrue, inaccurate generalization and pretend that we can make it 'trans-inclusive?'

[starry-bi-sky]

i think i'm hilarious -- aka i made blood blossom danny au memes

all of these come from my DpxDC prompt "i am pushing the batdad agenda--" and it's corresponding additions in the reblogs ksdjlf.

i am. rotating them in my head. forever and always. personally i think there should be more batdad aus in dpxdc, their dynamic could be neat. :)

[steveseddie]

coffee and contemplation

for the @steddiemicrofic prompt “dress, 350 words” | rated: t | cw: none | tags: pre-relationship, steve pov, good uncle wayne, he wants eddie to be happy and stop pining

Steve slips out of bed quietly. Eddie stirs but after nuzzling into Steve’s pillow, he falls back asleep.

Smiling softly, Steve dresses in yesterday’s clothes thinking he’ll need to go home and change before work, or Robin will be insufferable.

Not wanting to wake Wayne either, he tiptoes down the hall—

And finds him at the kitchen table, sipping coffee.

“Um, good morning.”

“Mornin’. Going somewhere?”

“Just work, sir.”

“Got time for some coffee?”

Steve checks his watch. Not really, he thinks but whatever. “Sure.”

“Help yourself.”

So Steve does, joining him at the table with a Garfield mug.

After a long silence, Wayne speaks, “Listen, kid, you don’t gotta sneak outta here, I got no problem with you spending the night. What you two get up to in there ain’t my business.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “Mr. Munson, we’re not—”

“Only ‘cause my boy is too chicken to do anything. Ed is as brave as they come, but he’s got a soft heart. It’s up to you to make a move ‘s what I’m saying.” He stands up, clasping Steve’s shoulder. “Just do this old man a favor and make it soon?”

Stunned, Steve nods just as Eddie saunters in.

“Mornin’, old— Stevie?” Noticing Steve’s spooked expression, Eddie’s smile falls. “Wayne, what did you say to him?” He asks, but Wayne’s already gone.

He turns to Steve. “Whatever he said, I’m sorry. You okay?”

“Just thinking,” Steve says, finding his voice. “Um, do you wanna go out tonight? Like on a date.”

Eddie squeaks. “What did Wayne say?”

“He suggested I make a move—”

“Oh God,” Eddie whines, covering his face. “That’s fucking embarrassing. He knows it’s not like that—”

“It can be, Eddie, I want it to be.”

“Oh.”

“So will you let me take you out?”

“Y-yeah.”

Grinning, Steve leans in— only to be stopped by a hand on his chest.

“Sweetheart, I wanna kiss you stupid more than anything but I won’t do it with morning breath and my uncle eavesdropping.”

Steve snorts. “Tonight then.”

“Tonight.”

“Bye, Eds.” Then louder, “bye Mr. Munson!”

“Call me Wayne, son!”

[hitlikehammers]

The One Where Wayne Munson KNOWS BETTER Than to Lend Air to IDLE GOSSIP

(and does it anyway on accident and ends up thinking his 💕boy's boy💕 might be ✖️stepping out) ——(1/3)

Wayne Munson’s lived his life mostly free from the hubbub of small town gossip. Some was unavoidable in his tiny holler as a boy; more was part and parcel to the service, and plain keeping half-sane in war—anything for a distraction. After all that though, Wayne’d had more’n his fill of even a teaspoon of hearsay, and compared to where he came from? Hawkins, Indiana was small potatoes for keepin’ his nose clear out of it.

Which is all to say he don’t mean to collect any of the latest scuttlebutt on his way just to town after he gets off his shift with the sun barely a glimmer, just past 5 for Leah’s to be open for a better cup-o-joe than the sludge he gets on the floor. All he wants is a hot nightcap because he knows damn well his boy didn’t pick up more grounds before Melvald’s closed last night, and Wayne doesn’t want to see his bed until he’s had a full mug of fair-to-middling coffee.

And honest: he don’t think that’s more than he’s earned to ask.

But it is more than he bargained for signing’ up to, when he sees the only other people in the diner at this hour on a Saturday.

Because the only other people are a girl he don’t know, though he can’t see her real well from the back, which only really means he sees her coffee date full-on and much too well in exchange because they��re leaned in and they’re being all touchy across the table, voices low but not too low—he don’t think they even noticed him come in, let alone come to wait close enough to hear ‘em while he insists on saving the lovely Leah herself the trip to a table when he can damn well carry his own drink, thanks kindly.

“You’re gonna have a coronary if you keep hiding this.”

The girl sounds…she sounds the way Wayne remembers his Mamaw sounding when she was about to hit his Grampy up the head over some harebrained such-and-such. Exasperated, but all from a deep well of unshakable loving.

Which is what perks up Wayne’s attention, and then churns his insides quick right-next, because—

Well. The boy this young lady’s being all over-fond at for his antics is Steve Harrington.

Who, for all that Wayne understands, is meant to be his boy’s boy.

“No, no,” Steve’s shaking his head, tone bowstring-taut; “I’m gonna tell him.” Kid sounds resolved for all of half-a-second before he’s groaning, running hands over his face: “Or, I mean—”

The thunk of the boy’s head to the tabletop clatters the cutlery, and if Wayne weren’t already clued into their conversation, he’d be wholly absolved for dropping eaves given how the noise echoes through the mostly-empty establishment bar-to-door.

“Dingus,” the girl says, and it drips with concern, with affection, with a deep choler that, again, sings loud of married-couple.

Which twists Wayne’s guts all the more to hear.

Because she’s talking to Wayne’s boy’s boy.

“I’m gonna, I promise,” Steve sounds not unlike a man on his way to the gallows, even more when he sighs deep as anything and traces out his lips with his fingers, hands shaky even out the corner of Wayne’s eye for a distance as he hisses low:

“Fuck.”

And Wayne, see, he don’t like borrowing trouble. He meant it about keeping his nose clean of the gossip and the hearsay. So he makes sure he reminds himself good in his own head that he don’t know the facts here, and jumpin’ to conclusions don’t do no favors to nobody.

It don’t do nothing for the way that what he does know, what he sees and hears with his own god-given senses in the now, don’t add up too kindly for the Harrington boy.

Not least because it seems to be adding up poor indeed for Wayne’s boy.

“Do you think he’ll—”

“Steve,” the girl’s voice goes softer, but also frantic almost, as Wayne sees her reach across the way and gather Steve’s hands with a familiarity to the motion that wouldn’t make sense unless…

Unless they’re something special to each other.

Wayne’s watched Eddie reach out for Steve that way. He’s watch Steve do the same. So it…it just don’t make sense—

“You’re shaking,” the girl says, all kinda pitiful, and Wayne’d seen it before, but now he chances a look again and: oh.

Boy’s a leaf in a cyclone.

“It’s a big deal,” Steve rasps out near under Wayne’s ability to hear it.

But he does hear it.

“You need to just lay it out,” the girl tells him, earnest now and more of that than any irritation, any frustration put-upon or otherwise; “be up front with him.”

And it ain’t fair, yet, even if all the signs are pointing that direction; but Wayne likes Steve. He doesn’t want to think the worst of him. And he doesn’t, really, in his heart, think Steve could do or be the worst, from all he’s learned and seen—Wayne’d had uncharitable thoughts about it he kid, before he knew better, based on hearsay which one more time, he don’t countenance as a rule, and he’d been taught better and quick from the second he saw Steve at his nephew’s bedside, and heard the only thing he’s proud and happy to have dropped in upon uninvited:

You nearly fucking died yourself dragging him out, Steve, what the hell—

That Henderson squirt, scolding Steve something fierce.

So Wayne reminds himself this boy loved his boy enough to risk himself to bring Eddie home. Before they were anything to one another. And Wayne knows damn well they’re both something to each other, now. It don’t make sense that Steve wants to…be up front about a notion with Eddie that could hurt.

But then: care can look a lot of different ways, and can change over time. Ain’t nobody to fault for that. And much as Wayne can’t quite believe the Steve he’s gotten to know these past many-months could swallow hurting his Eddie…

Wayne’s been proven incorrect about people more than enough in his life to know better than to think it’s impossible to be wrong about a man’s heart.

“Oh, I’m sure that’ll go over fucking fantastic,” Steve’s huffing, rolling his eyes—apparently he don’t want to be up front with the person they’re talking about. Wayne tries to remind himself that they’ve not flat out said it’s Eddie yet. Wayne shouldn’t go making assumptions.

“Why not?” the girl’s pressing him. “Be honest, with him,” then her tone does go a little judgemental; “you can’t honestly think he doesn’t suspect—”

“I really don’t think he does,” and it’s a strange thing, because no matter the words themselves, it don’t sound like Steve’s meaning to be deceitful about a thing. Kinda sounds a little like he’s mourning, like he’s just in a kind of pain. “If he did, then at least maybe I’d have some kind of,” he waves his hand in the air, looks frantic, at loose ends all around; “heads-up for where his head’s at.”

And they’re both quiet for a spell, and Wayne looks for Leah in the back, knew she was getting food ready and was happy to wait—for better or worse with the conversation he’s been privy to without permission unspooling at his side—but he’s starting to feel antsy for all that he’s hearing, and the way he can’t quite tamp down associating it all with Eddie, with touchy things Steve might have to tell Eddie—

“Tell him by the end of the weekend.”

And now: think he might have to tell, encouraged so damn strong and single-minded by his lady friend with her hand on his arm.

“That’s fucking tomorrow!”

“End,” she’s narrowing her eyes sharp enough Wayne notices more in the shift of the room than to see it head-on; “of,” and then she’s smacking Steve’s arm to emphasize hard enough it rings out; “the weekend.”

Then Wayne notices how her posture shifts, and she leans closer again, so much affection, and easy with it, and welcome for it, no doubt about it:

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” she says low and earnest; “especially not when the thing you’re like this about is,” and then her tone shifts to something bright, near-on hopeful, even:

“It’s such a good thing, Steve.”

“I mean,” Steve mumbles, kind of miserable really; “of course you think so.”

And Wayne don’t like where his head goes for things the girl who’s watching Steve with such soft eyes might think to be good, might think while she’s touching him so close and —

“He’ll,” and she huffs a touch before going all heartfelt again: “Eddie is going to—”

And the moment his plausible deniability about the subject of the discussion is gone, Wayne gives up waiting for his coffee at the counter and…retreats to the corner by the door, far as he can get from whatever’s said next. He’d leave, honest, but the truth of the matter’s this:

He can’t be expected in good faith to figure out how to bring any of this up with Ed if he don’t have no caffeine in him.

☕ 👀 ☕

✨ part ii >>>

For @thefreakandthehair, who requested 'Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST—and since this is almost a YEAR LATE, could I possibly offer it as a normal-amounts-of-late birthday gift, more than as an egregiously-and-unforgivably-late prompt fill for you?

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here @pukner @ravenfrog @sadisticaltarts @samsoble @sanctumdemunson @shrimply-a-menace @slashify @stealthysteveharrington @swimmingbirdrunningrock @theheadlessphilosopher @theintrovertedintrovert @themoonagainstmers @theohohmoment @tillystealeaves @tinyloonyteacups @tinyplanet95 @warlordess @wheneverfeasible @wordynerdygurl @wxrmland @yourmom-isgay @1-tehe-1

NOTE: it's important to me that you know that Wayne's accept belongs to nowhere, and is just the voice of someone I knew as a kid, who also sounded like a little of everywhere and then again nowhere. so if you think some turn of phrase doesn't fit what you think you're reading in terms of dialect? it's just that this way of stringing words together is—with intention—its own amalgam of places and times

divider credit here and here

[braceletofteeth]

Evilive (1x03) || Strangers From Hell (1x08)

[jongwoojanu]

strangers from hell (2019)/ "the god of peace" from naoki urasawa's monster (1994-2001)/ BTS, 애매한 사이 (young love)/ susan howe, singularities (1990)/ claudia durastanti, strangers (2022)/ "자기"/"jagi" etymology by kirby cho on reddit/ mabel podcast (2017), episode 28/ junji ito's uzumaki (2000)

[3liza]

i have another pet tip, for all pets not just dogs: take them to the vet young and/or soon after you adopt them, BEFORE something is wrong with them. either book a basic wellness appt for checks (no shots or procedures) or just ask the vet if it's ok if you drop by with the pet either on leash or in a carrier and just get as far as the waiting room or outside the clinic if they're still doing COVID airlock protocols or busy. plan for this to take several hours. let the pet approach the vet office entrance and hear/see/smell the waiting room, windows into the room, the door, all the spots around the door, etc. engage positively with them if they're feeling interested, soothe them if they're nervous, and give high value treats if possible. maybe assign a super S tier treat JUST for the vet (bacon, shrimp, stinkiest cheese, whatever). feeding them can short circuit their anxiety loops (not all the time for every animal, but as a general guideline). even a single positive exposure to the vet office environment will help next time you bring them in. a treat jackpot for every time they act brave and explore further is a great technique

vet visits aren't just more pleasant when the pet is not freaking out, they're safer for the vet and safer for the pet, not just because animals injure themselves and humans when scared, but also because it's a lot harder to examine a panicky cat or aggressive dog. if your pet is sick and you bring it to the vet and the vet needs four techs just to restrain it to take a temperature, that vet is not going to be able to get a good observation of the symptoms. they won't be able to get a baseline blood pressure or heart rate. panic alone can kill small animals like rabbits and birds.

when you meet the nurse or tech or vet at an appointment, pass them some of the special treats and ask them to feed some to the animal if the animal is willing to take them and it doesn't interfere with the appointment. vets are usually able to spare a couple seconds to do this to make the visit easier and the next visit even easier. i did this for my dog and he thinks the vets are his best friends even though he's had multiple surgeries, vaccinations, exams where he was nervous or uncomfortable, etc.

not all animals can be acclimated to the vet but most can. in an emergency it can make a huge difference whether your pet is a behavior case when you bring them in to the office or not, which is not the vet's fault but a factor of animal behavior. you can plan for it and make it easier on yourself!

edit: buying a muzzle in your dog's size and getting him used to it is an even bigger bonus tip. vets will love you for this. even good dogs sometimes need a muzzle. pain and fear do weird things to animal behavior

[findafight]

Okay I kept thinking about this post and Steve being a BNF of Corroded Coffin message board of the internet of yore.

Alright so way back in the nineties Suzie hooks everyone up with the internet, yes? Yes. Eddie and Steve got together in '92 after some mutual pining and a few disastrous relationships that couldn't handle 1) Steve and Robin's general QPR clinginess 2) Eddie's intensity 3) the secrecy required if having multiple years of monster fighting and subsequent NDAs and the trauma associated therein. They're older and more settled and ready for an Adult Relationship.

Corroded Coffin is gaining traction and doing really well and the internet is still a brave new frontier, so Steve says to Eddie something like "I'm going to see if there's some message boards about you 🥰" and find them he sure does. So he makes accounts and posts under the username EddiesOnlyGroupie because he's hilarious and also the mods banned him from using EddieMunsonsHusband (he figured it was fine on the internet because nobody actually knew who he was but APPARENTLY NOT homophobia lives on in the digital age). He gets pretty well known in the Corroded Coffin fandom, most assuming he's a woman because he will go off on how hot Eddie looked at a gig. Like. Saying unhinged internet shit because 1) true and 2) he and Eddie think it's so funny. Everyone kinda believes the groupie thing too because of all the performance pics he's able to post and how he'll sometimes offer tidbits if knowledge about the band.

When they transition from chatrooms to livejournal etc he follows, with the same username. He's kind of a legend by the mid aughts. EOG is the acronym people use when discussing theories on his identity, and he's like "guys I'm literally his only groupie it's self explanatory. Guys why don't you believe me Eddie hasn't slept with anyone but me since 1992. We're basically married". He goes "it's not a mystery we literally are in love and Jeff and I go to Cubs games and cry when they inevitably lose together. Gareth is Godfather to my cats" (Eddie is still offended that he was not named Sassafras and Moonshine's godfather when Steve and Robin adopted them in '89). No one believes him.

Possibly because he still thirsts after Eddie and whenever someone posts a new Eddie pic those in the know wait for him to pop up with comments like "I want to bite his neck omg" "he has no ass but nobody is perfect I'll settle between his thighs anyway" and "literally a crime I am not married to him right now what the fuck" As twitter grows he swoops in to grab his handle, and follows a bunch of other CC fan accounts (some of them old friends, some of them new to the scene)(EOG 100% has his own fanlore page, which also has speculation on who he is and how he gets all the bts pics. It also doesn't believe when he says what it says on the tin. He's Eddie's only groupie.)

tumblr and tiktok come round and Steve is like. Openly horny on main. He's seen some shit go down on the internet but he's still commenting on Eddie fan edits that are title shit like "why am I attracted to this middle-aged white man" and "retro cc fancam" with things like "I'd let him lick the inside of my ear and only bring it up to tease him on special occasions" "his FINGERS" "back in '89 Jeff and Howie and Claire staged a mutany over this song because they were 'sick of Eddie only writing about biting bats' lmao" and "Jeff is my favourite member of cc"(just to stir the pot)

Eddie comes out in the 2010's and he's like "yeah I've been in a long term relationship with someone who is usually mostly a man kinda (gender is fucky) for the past twenty years, lol. His name's Steve. I love him a lot even if he mocks me online." and of course EOG comments "the mods of that old message board should have let me keep my original handle of EddieMunsonsHusband. When're you gonna make it reality, Munson? smh" and everyone is like Huh?? EOG is a MAN? And he's like yeah? Sometimes?? Not always?

(He 100% thinks this is him telling people he's Eddie's Steve. They don't get the message)

Anyways life goes on Steve continues to thirst under pictures of Eddie, he has his pronouns and name in his bio on twitter (Steve, he/him, she/her, Eddie Munson's first and only groupie 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ ) and continues to post behind the scenes photos that shockingly few people question (she always says "because I'm his groupie" though. He and Eddie think this is VERY funny and also true. Robin groans. They've been making the same joke for two decades.) and people believe it because Eddie has interacted EOG sometimes, liking photos or videos, commenting sometimes. (Steve has a more professional realname account that he rarely uses but Eddie usually tags Steve there)

And THEN Internet user EddiesOnlyGroupie says he's taking a few weeks off for her honeymoon because "I'm finally marrying the man of my dreams!" And people are happy for him but also bummed because Eddie is also taking a two week hiatus but EOG promises wedding and honeymoon photos. (Face reveal! Sorta!)((he doesn't get why people are excited because he's pretty sure he's been in a lot of Eddie's recent pictures, but whatever)

Imagine the Internet's surprise when Eddie Munson posts a collection of pictures spanning '86 to his 2016 wedding of him and Steve, including one of Steve looking seriously at an old desktop computer, captioned "Steve starting his internet career" and tags EOG.

Steve qrt with "I told yall. I'm his only groupie, and they should've let me keep EddieMunsonsHusband even if they WERE homophobic. Because now it's TRUE"

Niche internet community drama chaos ensues.

[wordsfromastranger]

Bliss✨

[erinwantstowrite]

the past couple of days i was doing a lot of stuff but mostly deep cleaning our house and something i noticed while listening to my mom's true crime videos was that you can rarely find a channel that doesn't add stupid fucking music to the background like it's a horror movie- or even more inappropriate cheerful music.

and that REALLY bothers me because these are people's REAL lives we're talking about here... when i watch true crime anything i have to go out of my way to find channels that don't sensationalize it or disrespect the victims in any way. recently, one of the channels i watch has started showing signs of leaning towards this kind of content, when previously they hadn't done so. and it's disappointing. i'm a big believer in music elevating a story but it just feels gross to put it here. or to keep doing moments like "but this horrifying secret will come to light later", etc etc

[serpentface]

WARDI TERMS OF ENDEARMENT

emense [ɛmɛnse] (eh-mehn-say)

Has meaning close to 'beloved' or 'darling'. "Ya emense" (meaning 'my beloved'/'my darling') is often contracted "y'mense".

bubuch [bubuk] (boo-bookh)

Somewhat of a nonsense word, basically ‘big-big’. Tends to either be used for small children or flirtatiously between adults (kind in between 'baby' and 'big boy' in functionality, though without gendered implications of the latter). Sometimes instead used as a form of intense condescension.

ya mache mes [ja mɑke mes] (yah mah-kay mace)

Functionally means "my other face", using the figurative word for face describing a concept of fundamental nature rather than anatomy. Very intense term of endearment, expresses the recipient as a core part of one's identity. Kind of equivalent to 'my other half' but not exclusively romantic.

ya tsitsima [ja ͡tsi͡tsimə] (yah tsee-tsee-muh)

Means "my blood". This term is used more broadly to denote familial relations, and is more of a term of endearment when used outside of actual biological relationship (calling your sister 'my blood' is just an intense way of saying 'my [relative]', calling a non-relative 'my blood' is VERY pointedly affectionate).

ya ungande [ja ungɑnde] (yah oon-gahn-day)

Often contracted to y'ungande, dead literally means "my liver" as in the organ. Ungande alone is also used as a food-based term of endearment, similar to 'honey' except instead with delicious organ meat.

anuje [ɑnudʒe] (ah-noo-jay)

Food based term of endearment, referring to a tree sap that is the most commonly used form of sweetener. Functionally identical to 'honey' in usage.

anu tlansekoma [ɑnu tlɑnsekoʊmə] (ah-noo tlahn-say-koh-muh)

This one actually means 'honey' (dead literally 'bee sweet'). Less common than 'anuje' as a term of endearment due to general cultural preference for anuje as a sweetener and the relative rarity of beekeeping.

inyagit [injəgit] (een-yah-geet)

Diminutive form of 'sun'. 'Ya inya' (my sun) occurs as well, but is less common.

y'mit agai [j'mit ɑgaɪ] (yuh-meet ah-gai)

Contraction of 'ya amit agai', 'my blue moon'. This specification is more common than a general 'my moon(s)' and is fairly loaded, given this particular moon is the site of the afterlife for the most honored dead. The phrase both suggests a sort of celestial beauty and a sense of being honored and finding rest in the recipient. This is a VERY intense and almost exclusively romantic term of endearment.

coutomara [koʊtoʊmɑrə] (koh-to-mahr-uh)

Means 'handsome' or 'beautiful', implies masculine attractiveness. (Dead literally closer to 'strong face'/'strong featured').

jaimara [dʒaɪmɑrə] (jaim-mahr-uh)

Means 'pretty' or 'beautiful', implies feminine attractiveness (dead literally close to 'beautiful face'/'beautifully featured').

katsuy [kɑtsui] [kaht-soo'ee]

Sexually charged description of physical attractiveness, basically calling someone 'sexy'.

ya katsuymen [ja kɑtsuimɛn] (yah koht-soo'ee-mehn)

Related and also sexually charged, close in meaning to 'my desire'.

at akmatse yachouy [ɑt ɑkmɑtse jɑtʃɔɪ] (aht ahk-mat-say yah-choi )

Sexually explicit term of endearment. The dead literal translation is "one who makes me flower". The word "flower" here is not as euphemistic in context and is rather the nicest sounding possible way to say "makes me cum (HARD)". Not considered vulgar, rather cloyingly romantic if anything.

gan(ne) ama [gɑn(e) ɑmə] (gah(-nay) ahm-uh)

Means 'bull'. When used affectionately, implies masculine strength. Usually used in conjunction with an adjective (ie 'handsome bull') or more teasingly gannit ama (little/baby bull))

jaimeti [dʒaɪmɛti] (jai-meh-tee)

Means 'gazelle' (the name for the animal itself is close in meaning to 'beautiful horn'), heavily associated with grace and beauty. Also tends to be used with adjectives ('lovely gazelle' 'handsome gazelle' etc) or with a diminutive.

ansiba [ɑnsibɑ] (ahn-see-bah) or ansibit [ɑnsibit] (ahn-see-beet)

Means 'duck' and 'duckling' respectively, specifically refers to the animal and implies cuteness. Ansibit is a very common term of endearment for children.

"Wannaukoma such datse anmo" [wɑnaʊkoʊmə suk dɑtse ɑnmoʊ] (wahn-now-koh-muh sookh daht-say ahn-moh)

Means 'an ant could swallow you', implies cuteness (ie the recipient is so small and tiny an Ant could devour them whole). Usually used on children, occasionally used on adult women (in a way that feels intensely patronizing to many). 'Datse' (you) may be replaced by the recipients surname or honorific in the rare case that someone would dare calling someone this without being on first name basis with them.

wannaukomit [wɑnaʊkoʊmit] (wahn-now-koh-meet)

Means 'little ant', a term of endearment that borders on insulting even to babies.

OTHER:

-it [it] (eet)

This is a diminutive modifier, which can be added to a name or other word/term of endearment to denote affection (can also be condescending). It lacks internal meaning in everyday use and is closer to the English -y or -ie (billy johnny rosie susie puppy kitty ducky etc).

hippe [hipɛ] (heep-peh) (some dialects drop the h sound entirely)

Means 'small' or 'little', can be spoken with other words/names as an affectionate diminutive.

Other epithets-

Various epithets used in the language are not exclusively used as terms of endearment, but can be contextually. Most commonly, this will be the -machen epithet of the recipients zodiac birthsign (particularly those considered auspicious). Someone with the lion birthsign could be respectfully and/or affectionately called 'odomachen', or VERY affectionately called 'ya odo' ('my lion'). There's also a good variety of poetic epithets that have worked their way into common language as affectionate compliments/descriptors- ie ganatoche (dead literally 'cow-eye', more prettily 'ox-eyed') is a complimentary descriptor for brown eyes, anaemaitsa (dead literally 'river-haired', more prettily 'flowing-haired') compliments wavy hair.

Given name basis-

In Wardi culture, full names are spoken with the family name preceding the given name. When respectfully speaking to a stranger, peer, or authority figure, you refer to them by their family name, title, and/or an honorific. Being on an accepted given name basis with someone is generally indicative of closeness and affection.

datse [dɑtse] (dah-tsay)

This is the word for "you". Similarly to the use of a given name, actually referring to someone as 'you' (rather than a surname, title, or honorific in place of the pronoun) expresses familiarity and intimacy.

[timetravelsong]

𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐈’𝐦 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝.

excerpts from a book I’ll never write

[steddieas-shegoes]

cw: mentions of scarring, canon-typical violence, flashback (not graphic), minor body horror (again, not graphic, mostly just emotional feelings about scars)

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

Everyone gave him weird looks when they walked in, quickly schooling their features when they noticed he was awake and watching them.

He didn’t know exactly what that was about.

They had him on a lot of good drugs.

But eventually he got weaned off them, and he noticed the pull of bandages on his side, and his arm, and his neck, and his face.

He was still unable to get out of bed. Still couldn’t even reach his arms above his chest for more than a few seconds.

But he damn sure reached up to feel the cloth and plastic surrounding his cheek. How had he not noticed for days? How had no one bothered him about it?

Maybe they had and he just didn’t notice. The morphine was one hell of a drug.

Wayne was soft, patient with him. Saw him touching it, saw the way his eyes filled with tears. He’d never been particularly vain, hadn’t cared much about what he looked like to others, but this felt bigger than that. This felt like he was changed in a way that everyone could see.

Add it to the list of things people could bully him for.

He cried himself to sleep, Wayne’s hand in his, silently comforting in the way he’d always done.

When he woke up again the next morning, he was alone.

It was the first time he’d been alone since the boathouse.

He could swear he heard bats outside his door, screams coming from the attached bathroom, flashes of someone dying on the ceiling.

He felt the sharp sting of teeth puncturing his skin.

He felt hopelessness creep into his bones as he gave in.

Maybe this time they would finish the job.

“Eddie!”

Steve Harrington’s voice broke through the thoughts, panicked enough to bring Eddie back to his hospital bed within a second of hearing it.

“Shit, are you okay?” He continued, hand brushing against Eddie’s bandaged cheek.

Eddie nodded once, closed his eyes, leaned into the touch.

He could blame it on any number of things if Steve felt weird about it. The morphine, the flashback, the loneliness.

“You’re okay, Eddie. I promise. Won’t let anything happen to you,” Steve whispered.

Eddie believed him.

He fell back asleep with Steve’s hand gently cupping the mangled side of his face.

If Steve could still touch him there, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

Steve came by every day, sometimes in the early morning, before visiting hours officially started, sometimes well after Wayne had left to get some sleep. He always smiled when he walked in, a genuine one, not the one everyone else gave that was so fully of pity and pain he couldn’t bear to make eye contact. He sat down on the side of the bed, not the chair like everyone else, not scared to be close.

And every single day, without fail, he would run his finger along the edge of Eddie’s bandage on his face, watching his own movements and cataloging any changes.

Eddie sat quietly, still, scared to put words to anything happening. Scared to tell Steve what it meant to him to have someone acknowledge his pain in this way. Scared to think Steve could mean anything by it.

It was easy to pretend Steve was doing this because he cared.

Maybe he did care.

But he didn’t care the way Eddie wanted him to, needed him to.

So he stayed quiet, still.

He watched.

He fell asleep while Steve talked about his day, the kids, what Joyce made Hopper do around the house.

He woke up alone most days, but that was okay, because Steve would be there eventually.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

“You ready to get that thing off?” Wayne asked, gesturing to the bandage.

“Oh. Today?” Eddie suddenly didn’t want to ever be without the bandage. Removing it meant he’d see what was under it.

It meant seeing how much that place had ruined him.

The pull of the stitches hadn’t been as obvious with the pull of the bandage masking it.

But now it’s all he felt.

The nurse smiled at him as she put some antibiotic cream over the area, saying he would probably still have to keep it extra clean for the next week or so while the stitches did their job.

Wayne smiled at him in the way that meant he didn’t really want to smile at all, but knew Eddie needed him to.

Steve didn’t come.

Eddie didn’t sleep.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

He woke up with panic in his chest and a silent scream in his throat.

He woke up with Steve’s hand on his face.

Gentle, soft, but a strong comfort.

“Promise I washed them first. They said we have to be careful about germs,” Steve said quietly.

“You don’t have to. I know it’s…it’s gross. It’s ugly. I’m ugly.”

Steve shook his head. “No. Not gross. Not ugly. Alive.”

“Steve-“

“You’re alive, Eddie. You could have your entire face held together by staples and you would still be a miracle. You’d still be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Well, Steve’s charm wasn’t an exaggeration, was it?

He wasn’t even sure if the skin barely pulled together could blush anymore, or if the heat that should be on his cheek was burning on the outside the way it felt like it was on the inside.

“It’s gonna be awful when it heals. I saw it in the mirror.” Eddie could feel every stitch in his jaw, the few that spread across the corner of his mouth and bottom lip, the ones that were nearly up to his ear. “I’ll always have a crooked face. The scar will always be huge. It’s all anyone will see.”

“Then they aren’t looking.”

Eddie bit his lip, eyes searching Steve’s. “But you are.”

“No. I’m seeing. There’s a difference. I see you. I see what you’ve survived. I see the mark it left on you. I know it wasn’t just the scars that cover your skin.” Steve leaned his head down, touching Eddie’s forehead with his own. “We all have them. And we’re all still here. Your heart’s beating. That’s all that matters to me.”

“Who knew you were so good with words?” Eddie smiled sadly.

“Robin says I’m just good at not having a filter.”

“She’s right as always.” Eddie wrapped his fingers around Steve’s wrist, turning as slowly as he could to kiss his palm. “You’re not scared of it.”

“No. Are you?”

“I’m scared that you’ll change your mind when it’s always there as a reminder of what happened.”

Steve kissed his nose, making him smile for the first time in what felt like years.

“I’ll have the reminder that I got you out of there. That no matter what, the bats couldn’t finish the job. That you were stronger and you made it.” Steve let his hand drop, but quickly laced his fingers with Eddie’s. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you to trust me, but will you? For today?”

“Just today?”

“I’ll ask again tomorrow.”

“And what? Every day after that?”

Steve smirked.

His eyes were glistening with tears, but Eddie could tell it wasn’t sadness or fear.

“If that’s what I have to do.”

They hadn’t even talked about feelings, not really. Nothing that made any sense to Eddie, nothing that they could define. A part of Eddie was still convinced he was in a coma and dreaming this entire conversation up.

But even the nurse had noticed the way Steve watched him, how he touched him, how he fought for him. She said he’d been a firecracker from the moment he carried him into the hospital, dripping blood on the tile, staining the halls with his demands for help.

Wayne said he barely left his side the first day, only doing so when the doctors had told him they would call the cops if he didn’t.

Erica even noticed how things had changed between them, stating that she refused to watch her babysitter and the only DM she had respect for make out.

But Steve held Eddie, made him feel like he could get out of the hospital bed and live a life that wouldn’t keep him running. Steve was there.

Steve might even love him. If not now, then some day.

And Eddie could trust him today.

He could probably trust him tomorrow.

“Kiss me?” Eddie probably shouldn’t. The stitches tugged when he talked, and another mouth anywhere near his wounds was just asking for an infection.

But Steve would be careful. He knew what Eddie could handle.

It was barely a kiss. A graze of the lips at most.

But it was the best kiss Eddie had ever had.

At least until tomorrow.