Thinking about going to a gallery I applied to today to scope it out and show my face. Please offer words pf support and advice
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Rest Stop
Written for the prompt ‘rest’ for @steddiemicrofic
387 words / rated T / pre-slash
Recreational drug use
There’s a rest stop on the decommissioned road a little ways out of Hawkins. It’s not a lot of anything, a tin roof over a picnic table, but Steve likes it. Thinks of it as ‘his’ spot, even though Tommy H told him about it. But it’s a good place to be alone. To, well, rest.
And, sure, Hawkins is full of places like that, quiet, empty places, and alone isn’t something Steve likes to be that much, but nights like tonight…
He sighs, tips his beer to his lips. It doesn’t hit him often, but when it does, it’s a restless itch; he can get away from Hawkins, from his house, his job, his nonexistent love life, but he can’t get away from that feeling. Out here he gets close, though.
Tonight, his solitude is short-lived. Footsteps make Steve tense, and a deep voice cuts through the night: “Steve?”
The tension drains; Steve turns. “Hey, Eddie.”
Eddie blinks. “I found you.” He scratches his head, nods at the table Steve’s sitting on. “Mind if I…?”
“It’s a free country.”
“So I’m told.” Eddie’s lips quirk; he sits beside Steve, pulling a joint from his jacket. He waggles it; Steve nods.
“Why were you looking for me?”
An orange flame sparks from Eddie’s lighter, catching the end of the joint. “I wasn’t.” Eddie takes a drag, gives the joint to Steve.
“You said you found me…”
“Don’t have to be looking for you to find you.”
Steve shakes his head. “All right.” He takes a hit, relishing the pleasant buzz, passes it back.
“What brings the valiant Sir Steve out here?”
“I like the quiet.”
“That a hint for me to shut my yap?”
“No.” Steve knocks their shoulders together. “I like listening to you talk.” Why did he say that? He doesn’t really care. Huh.
Surprise flickers over Eddie’s face, but it settles into something pleased. “Good.” He winks. “Because I have plenty of stories to tell.”
After a few moments, Steve says, “Well,” waving his hand, “go ahead.”
Eddie’s eyes sparkle; he starts talking, gesticulating wildly, and Steve realizes the restlessness is gone. Maybe it’s the weed. He’s pretty sure it’s all Eddie.
Okay. Something to look at later. For now, he basks in Eddie’s voice and the easy, restful feeling of being near him.
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If you're having a bad day but think you don't deserve someone or even yourself being nice to you:
Shane, even at his lowest, has the farmer want to see him and care about hearing how he's doing. Even when he was at his meanest/lowest points in the game, everyone that collectively put in the effort to see those hearts with him rise up knew what they were walking into. They still came by sometimes every single day they could to give him something they hoped he liked and talked to him to see how he was doing. They genuinely wanted to see him smiling and happy with his aunt and niece and get better. Whether platonically or romantically they care for him
You deserve your own farmer.
You deserve to treat yourself like how the farmer treats Shane when they're trying to get his heart events
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