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#it's a lot of things at once
tawaifeddiediaz · 2 months
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something about the diaz home as a symbol of everything sacred to eddie.
something about the diaz home representing eddie's privacy and his life and by extension, christopher's, and that it's a constant, recurring motif of a life that he's built with his son. and it's always interesting to see that his home is always warm (in terms of lighting, color combos, etc etc) and welcoming, which feels so vastly different to the other two homes we've seen for him in eddie begins
something about the way he has to physically open the door to let people in to his life, and how many shots of that we've had of just him opening the damned door since. something about the way he physically lets shannon in in 2x07, or the way he braces himself with chris' encouragement before opening the door to ana in 4x08, or the way he happily lets carla in in 4x13 or the way he softens and smiles when he opens the door to buck in 6x12. it's in the way the only people we've really seen in eddie's home as "not guests" are the ones that he chooses to let in.
in that same vein, we can always tell when there's someone in there that doesn't quite belong. 5x11 is a prime example of this, and not just because of the episode title, "outside looking in." it's evidently obvious that the only reason taylor's in his house is for buck's sake, and maybe that's why we never see eddie actually letting them in. 5x03 is similar to that, in the sense that ana stays for three days with chris at the diaz home, but when eddie comes back, it's a metaphorical and physical mess that he's left standing in the middle of, alone.
and it's very, very interesting that we've never seen his parents in his house. ever. and yes, it could just be the fact that they rarely come to los angeles period, but i just think it's interesting in terms of eddie's journey with them, that the closest we've gotten to them physically being there is that facetime call with his dad, and that phone call with his mom - both of which happen after he goes back to texas in 5x17 where he point-blank tells his dad he's trying to be better for himself, and his dad meets him halfway. it only happens after his relationship with his dad starts improving.
i just constantly think of the diaz home front door, and now that i've thought of it, there's so many other moments that scream at me:
buck unlocking eddie's door in 4x14 and swinging it open to the party, and then later standing in the open doorway almost like he's protecting eddie and the life he's built in this one way because he couldn't protect him in the other way
buck unlocking eddie's door with his own key in 5x13, then bursting through yet another door to get to eddie, just to step in and sit with him in his grief - and how much that scene symbolizes that eddie may have built this life but it was after burying demons that later just crawled up through the cracks of his new home.
buck standing inside the diaz home after eddie gets home from therapy in 5x14 like this is a regular occurrence.
the way eddie's discomfort is visible in that split second scene we get of the police officers storming his home in 2x15
eddie asking shannon to leave through the back door because he may have let her into his life but he's not ready to let her into chris' and thus, he doesn't truly let her into his life - and actually, even the shot of eddie, chris and shannon at the end of that episode takes place outside the diaz home. which is...telling methinks.
eddie opening his door post-date in 4x07 to buck meeting him at it (always meeting him halfway), and just. the domesticity of it, set off by the warm lights, the discussion they have, and the looks on their faces the whole like
eddie opening his door to buck in 6x12, looking apprehensive for a second before he realizes who it is and his smile grows and eyes turn into heart-eyes and buck just pushes past him without waiting for eddie to step aside, only to go and swing his feet up on the coffee table like the diaz home is his, too.
there's so many examples but @sevensoulmates and i put this whole meta together because the symbolism in this tv show is off the charts
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butchfalin · 5 months
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the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again
#yeehaw#1k#5k#10k#posts that got cursed. blasted. im making these tag updates after... 19 hours?#also i have been told it should say speech loss bc nonverbal specifically refers to the permanent state. did not know that!#unfortunately i fear it is so far past containment that even if i edited it now it would do very little. but noted for future reference#edit 2: nvm enough ppl have come to rb it from me directly that i changed the wording a bit. hopefully this makes sense#also. in case anyone is curious. though i doubt anyone who is commenting these things will check the original tags#1) my friend did not do this on purpose in any way. it was not intended to distract me or to hit on me. im a lesbian hes a gay man. cmon now#he felt very bad about it afterwards. i thought it was hilarious but it was very embarrassed and apologetic#2) “why didn't he use 🫵🏼?” didn't exist yet. “why didn't he use 🆗?” dunno! we'd been using a lot of hand emojis. 👌🏼 is an ok sign#like it makes sense. it was just a silly mixup. also No i did not invent 👉🏼👌🏼 as a gesture meaning sex. do you live under a rock#3) nonspeaking episodes are a recurring thing in my life and have been since i was born. this is not a quirky one-time thing#it is a pervasive issue that is very frustrating to both myself and the people i am trying to communicate with. in which trying to speak is#extremely distressing and causes very genuine anguish. this post is not me making light of it it's just a funny thing that happened once#it's no different than if i post about a funny thing that happened in conjunction w a physical disability. it's just me talking abt my life#i don't mind character tags tho. those can be entertaining. i don't know what any of you are talking about#Except the ppl who have said this is pego/ryu or wang/xian. those people i understand and respect#if you use it as a writing prompt that's fine but send it to me. i want to see it#aaaand i think that's it. everyday im tempted to turn off rbs on it. it hasn't even been a week
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shadowtraveled · 2 months
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"mithrun is the only real monsterfucker in dungeon meshi" is objectively the funniest bit you can get out of his everything, but in all seriousness i think his attraction to his love interest is deliberately overstated—and that makes sense, because romantic jealousy is a classic and digestible motive, which is explicitly what kabru was aiming for in condensing mithrun's backstory, and also because until chapter 94, mithrun wasn't willing to admit to the true nature of his desires.
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but because romantic envy is both classic and digestible, it probably isn’t a unique enough or complicated enough desire to tempt a demon’s appetite. mithrun’s wish, as far as we can figure from kabru’s reduced retelling, was to have a life in which he had never become one of the canaries, and that carries like 3857 implications and desires within it. that’s delicious. his love interest acts as sort of a red herring to his motivation for making it, though. (side note: i'm saying "love interest" here because, keeping in mind that i barely speak japanese on a good day anymore, "想い人" is something i'd usually take as just kind of an old-fashioned and romantic way to refer to a lover, but in context i wonder if both the connotation of yearning and the vagueness are intentional, and i think this phrasing gets those aspects of it more effectively. anyway.)
mithrun considered his love interest to be untrustworthy. there was a minute where i thought that comment might be about a similar-looking elf (yugin, one of his squad members), but comparing the two…
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the "sketchy" arrow is definitely referring to the elf we know as his love interest—the bangs go toward her right, she only has the one forehead ornament, and, most notably, her ears aren't notched.
every time she’s given a full-body depiction in his dungeon, she’s drawn as a chimera, with the body of a snake from the waist down. (side note: the “what if a dungeon has chimeras before reaching level 4?”/“then the dungeon lord is unstable” exchange just being mithrun grilling his past self alive is so funny. he’s so. but anyway) there are a couple things about this.
first, the snake part of the chimera appears to be modeled after some species of coral snake mimic
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which, in the biology-for-fun manga, i… doubt is a coincidence, especially with the added context of the “untrustworthy” comment. the dungeon’s conjured illusion of mithrun’s love interest was a harmless copycat of a venomous original. for whatever reason, he felt this person was a threat and made up a "safe" version of her to be in a relationship with, and while it’s definitely possible to be attracted to or even love someone you find to be toxic and/or intimidating, when you take that into consideration alongside the configuration of her body, you get some interesting implications.
which brings us to our second point: if we assume that mithrun was not in fact fucking a snake, then sexual attraction, at least, was so far removed from his idea of a relationship with this person that he did not even bother to keep her dungeon copy human enough to maintain the illusion of the option of a sexual relationship. this is somewhat echoed in the depictions of their interactions, which also imply a frankly unexpected romantic distance. she kisses his cheek and he doesn't seem to react; she's at the edge of a narrow bed with only one set of pillows, on top of his blankets while he's underneath them.
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the kiss is particularly interesting because it seems to contrast the text. kabru's narration tells us this was everything mithrun could have asked for, but mithrun is there looking unreadable to pensive, likely because this is right before the panel that makes it clear things in the dungeon are beginning to go wrong.
walking through this backwards for a minute, we have the physical barrier of his bedding and the spatial separation inherent in a bed made for one person, the emotional barrier of his mounting anxiety getting in the way of his ability to enjoy the affection he sought, and... the snake, which historically carries the connotation of temptation, yes, but also mistrust, barring physical intimacy. okay. ok. if a dungeon reflects the mentality of its lord, all of this might suggest that mithrun was not able to have any real desire for a relationship with this person. his unwillingness to be vulnerable or let another person in was insurmountable. but in that case, why was she such a focal point that she remained to the end, after his dungeon had stopped creating iterations of his friends to come and visit him? why would he get so upset over her meeting with his brother that he became lord of a dungeon about it?
well. mithrun's brother was also interested in her, probably genuinely. and mithrun had to win.
you have an older brother who your parents completely ignore, probably in part because he is chronically ill/disabled and almost definitely in part because he received a ton of recessive traits that resulted in rumors that he was an illegitimate child. you are aware, most likely because those same parents fucking told you, that you actually are an illegitimate child. but they keep you around because you had the good fortune of looking just like your mother. what can that possibly teach you but that you, like your brother, are disposable?
it's utterly unsurprising that mithrun, under these circumstances, developed a pathological need to be better than everyone around him. people don't keep you otherwise. i'd argue this is also why he says he looked down on everyone he knew while milsiril claims his dungeon reeked of feelings of inferiority—he sought out people's worst traits and prioritized them in his mind to protect his already extremely fragile sense of self-worth, and all the while he tried to be as likable and high-performing as he possibly could be. his parents disposed of him anyway, but even then he tried to keep up the performance. he was kind to everyone. he never once lost to a dungeon.
when he saw his "love interest" meeting up with his brother, what he saw was himself being replaced by a person his parents had always treated as worthless, and if that was what they thought of the child they'd kept, what value could anyone possibly see in the bastard they'd given away to die? mithrun and kabru tell the story like he wanted to win this unnamed elf's heart, but it was never about being with her. it was about cementing his worth, proving that he didn't deserve to be thrown away.
and so it's particularly cruel that his demon discarded him, too. but maybe it's also particularly gentle that, in the end, there was someone who refused to even consider giving up on him.
kui laid it out in three panels better than i could hope to.
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yeah. it's love. you wanted to be loved, even when the only way you were able to understand it was through the desire to be wanted, and you wanted that so badly that the idea of being consumed felt like the promise of finally mattering to someone.
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petitelappin · 7 months
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"For a moment or two I could see nothing, as the shadow of a cloud obscured St. Mary’s Church and all around it. Then as the cloud passed I could see the ruins of the abbey coming into view; and as the edge of a narrow band of light as sharp as a sword-cut moved along, the church and the churchyard became gradually visible. Whatever my expectation was, it was not disappointed, for there, on our favourite seat, the silver light of the moon struck a half-reclining figure, snowy white."
Mina and Lucy in the kirkyard at Whitby, August 11th.
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inkskinned · 9 months
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he says i hate everyone except you and that is addictive and that is kind of romantic and beautiful because you're young and you're kind of a sarcastic asshole too and you don't like bad boys, per say, but you don't really like good ones either. and you like that you were the exception, it felt like winning.
except life is not a romance book, and he was kind of being honest. he doesn't learn to be nice to your friends. he only tolerates your family. you have to beg him to come with you to birthday parties, he complains the whole time. you want to go on a date but - people are often there, wherever you're going. he's just so angry. about everything, is the thing. in the romance book, doesn't he eventually soften? can't you teach him, through your own sense of whimsy and comfort?
at first - you know introverts often need smaller friend groups, and honestly, you're fine staying at home too. you like the small, tidy life you occupy. you're not going to punish him for his personality type.
except: he really does hate everyone but you. which means he doesn't get along with his therapist. which means he has no one to talk to except for you. which means you take care of him constantly, since he otherwise has no one. which means you sometimes have to apologize for him. which means he keeps you home from seeing your friends because he hates them. you're the single exception.
about a decade from this experience, you'll type into google: how to know if a relationship is codependent.
he wraps an arm around you. i hate everyone except you. these days, you're learning what he's actually confessing is i have very little practice being kind.
#i used to think it was romantic too and then i was like. now i see it as a HUGE red flag#writeblr#it is also almost EXCLUSIVELY said by immature ppl who think this is normal#fyi even if u think it's funny and ur like 'im an introvert it's just TRUE' like. you need therapy (ily tho)#healed introversion is just ''i would prefer to be by myself'' not ''i hate every person'' ... hate is not normal. that is not healthy#im sorry. i know it feels accurate. but if you're walking around with that kind of rage....#1. you're making a LOT of assumptions about every single person u have ever met. which is often unfair and unkind#and also usually involves judging people based on their worst moments or little mistakes#2. you are being unfair to the person who is ur ''exception''#3. there is a VAST difference between ''ur my favorite person'' and ''the ONLY person i like.''#idk i think this is just a personal bias thing tbh#im sure there are people who have this experience normally#but i have YET to find a man who thinks like this and ISNT absolute DOGSHIT. although tbh.... like. im sure he exists#when u hit like 30 some of the things that were once kind of hot now just sound fucking exhausting. like ''im in a band''#edit in the tags: i used to kind of be like this too. but the thing is that like. my life became so much more peaceful#once i started believing that people are generally good. like yes i am mad at the world at large#but it's just.... a very hard way to live. you're not a bad person or wrong for the ways other people hurt you and taught you to be angry.#but that anger will continue to hurt YOU. it will punish YOU. it will prevent YOU from making new deep connections. it will protect you yes#but it will also cause MASSIVE blowback. bc if you lose the One Person... your life will fall apart. i know this personally.#i really recommend just trying to be... cautiously optimistic instead. like. yes#people can be horrible and cruel and there are some communities (incels for example) that aren't worth that optimism#but i think like... most people will hold a door for you . most people want to help you find your wallet .#i hope one day you are able to find peace. i hope that rage eventually smooths over. i know how hard it is PERSONALLY#and i know what must have happened to you. and im deeply deeply sorry we share the same wound.#but i promise - sometimes we all need someone else to help us carry the weight. eventually the rage has to die so that we can let help in#i had to spend years biting at outstretched hands. i still often do. im still very wary . and my heart breaks that you flinch too.#here's the thing: i don't blame you. but we were both acting out of fear and pain. .... not out of healthy behavior. and ... change#was needed. i needed change too. rage was useful for a while. then it just left me isolated and bitter. i had to (with effort)#choose to let that rage go. and let people in . VERY SLOWLY THO LOL
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khytal · 9 months
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and there was only one bed (oh my god there was only one bed)
extra:
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freckledjoes · 2 months
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"Still super jealous as hell, by the way."
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relaxxattack · 2 years
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tbfh i love when people will headcanon characters as being of their culture and then draw little comics of them participating in traditions that the artist is clearly intimately familiar with. like YESSS share your personal cultural experiences with me through the blorbos!!! i love to see it!!!!!!!
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sarasade · 5 months
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One of the most generally useful things to come out of Hbomberguy's plagiarism video and Todd in the Shadows' similar video on misinformation is how they bring transparency to the internet phenomenon of "I made up a guy to get mad at".
Seriously, I've seen people make up a lot of stupid shit on the internet over the years and it's often just a manipulative attempt to paint a group of marginalized people in a bad light.
That's the TL;DR version of this post. 
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ANYWAY here is the long version
Those videos are mostly about James Somerton's plagiarism of other queer people's work. However I'd like to talk about that 20-30% of Somerton's original writing- and oh boy. It's mostly about complaining about White Straight Women and misgendering well-known trans creators such as Rebecca Sugar and calling Becky Albertalli a straight woman while it's pretty common knowledge that she was forced to out herself as bi because she received so much harassment over "being a cishet woman who appropriates LGBT+ stories".
One thing that irks me especially is how in his Killing Stalking and Gay Shipping videos Somerton brings up how straight women/ teen girl shippers exploit gay men for their personal sexual fantasies. This gets brought up several times in his videos.
Being all up and arms about Somerton being a "White Cis Gay Who Hates Women and Queer People tm" is not that useful because the kind of rhetoric he's using is extremely common in fandom and LGBT+ spaces on Tumblr, TikTok and Twitter. We really don't need to bring Somerton's identity to this since he is in no way an unique example.
It's hypocritical to make this about an individual person when I've seen A TON of posts, tweets and videos where queer people talk about these Sinister Straight Women who are supposedly out there fetishizing and exploiting queer men. It's pretty clear to me that this is just an excuse to shit on women and queer people for having any sexual interests. At worst these comments are spreading misinformation about BL, a form of media that has been excessively studied by both Asian feminists and Asian queer women.
This all sounds really familiar and I think it's good that people are calling it out as what it is: misogyny and transphobia. I'd also point out the potentially racist motives behind being this hypervigilant about Asian media.
People can absolutely be misogynist regardless of gender or orientation. I really don't know why we need to create some kind of made up enemy to get mad at. I actually think it's almost sinister how "anti-fujoshi" people call Slash shippers and fujoshi misogynists or claim that they have internalised misogyny while being dismissive about women's interests and creative pursuits under Japanese obscenity laws, China's censorship, book bans in American schools and various other disadvances that are part of being a queer and/or female creator.
I think we shouldn't be naive about the bad faith actors who want to turn queer people against each other. For example Fujoshi.info mentions anti-gender (TERF, GC etc) movement using this kind of rhetoric as well.
Anyway if you want to read more:
- about the false info around BL fandom fujoshi.info
-There is the scholar Thomas Baudinette who studies gay media in Japan. Here is a podcast with him and the scholar Khursten Santos
-James Welker is a BL scholar as well. Here is a podcast interview about the new international BL article collection he edited.
-I've already talked about this Youtube channel by KrisPNatz and his great Killing Stalking video that actually engages with the themes of the manhwa
- There is also HR Coleman's thesis DO NOT FEED THE FETISHIZERS: BOYS LOVE FANS RESISTANCE AND CHALLENGE OF PERCEIVED REPUTATION where she interviews 36 BL fans and actually breaks down why fetishization has become such a huge talking point in the fandom discourse. Spoilers, it's mostly about young queer people and women being worried that they will get judged and pathologized for their interest in anything sexual.
-Great podcast about Danmei and censorship with Liang Ge
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jetpackgeneratedcat · 2 months
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Wars and Wild working together.
Wars clothes are based on those Hyrule Warriors concept art for Link.
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tabooiart · 5 months
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this hot pink bitch was named breakfast!!!
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 5 months
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My Lawyer is going to Get Your Ass.
[First] Prev <–-> Next
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theoldkyokodied · 3 months
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posting all my genderbent sunny (mostly toxic yuri macden) art at once like i'm known to do tehee :) ft Charlie in a little mini comic where mac and den try to give her a make-over for a scheme, based on a conversation i had with my friend kath, who is THE person i'd trust most with writing an actual iasip episode btw.
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sp0o0kylights · 26 days
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Wayne takes in a Beat to Shit Steve Harrington after Starcourt as n Owed Favor to Hopper Part 4
Part Three: link
First Chapter (parts 1-3 on tumblr) on A03: Link
The kid was madder than a wet hen.
Just as slippery as one too, when he got like this--music pulsing like a living thing to signal all his rage and upset. 
Not like Wayne hadn’t expected it. 
He just wished it wasn’t quite so damn loud. 
The music had started up almost immediately after Eddie had stormed to his room, startling Steve awake and nearly making Wayne curse for it.
Normally it was a good thing--music meant Eds was willing to listen instead of heading for the hills.  
Normally, they didn't have a house guest who looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a bear.
They had a routine for this, was the thing and the music was a key part of it. It worked all the edges off for Wayne, and he'd long figured out that about thirty minutes was a the perfect length of time for Eddie to stew before he could actually talk things through.
Given the hand Harrington put to his forehead, Wayne wasn't eager to give him that thirty minutes.
Not when Steve deserved little peace he could have.
Unfortunately, so did Eds. 
Still.
 Strutting through the door and demanding to talk right now was a bad move and so, with a sympathetic look given to Steve, Wayne did what he did best
Gave space.
Let Eddie rage, as Wayne got up and shuffled about the kitchen.
Pulled out the soft earplugs he pretended weren’t there for Eds to steal (playing that damn loud guitar all the time could not be good for his ears) and offered them to Steve, before making two cups of what Wayne privately thought was the Munson “chitchat” drink. 
One cup of hot water, one packet swiss miss, a small amount of maple syrup drizzled in, topped with little marshmallows they reserved for these types of situations. 
Wayne took his time with it, thinking through what he wanted to say. 
‘I understand that this is a screen door on a submarine kind of situation...’ 
Nope. 
‘Son I know you hate listening to anyone for anything but this is serious...’ 
Absolutely not--that would end up with the boy bolting for sure. 
‘Ed’s, I love you but could we please turn Ozzy off while we talk? That man wails louder than any damn cat I have ever met.’
That one was purely self indulgent, mostly because the wall was starting to shake. 
Wayne put the finishing touches on the cocoa before staring at both of them. 
Perhaps if he stared the Garfield mug in its eyes hard enough, the right words would come through. 
They did not.
He kept trying, standing there long enough for the cocoa to reasonably have cooled and for Eddie’s song to flip over to something with more screaming in it than singing. 
Wayne supposed that this was the hardest part of being a parent. You just didn’t get to have the magical one liner. The right thing to say at just the right time.  
The joke that would ease all the tension and let things progress forward nice and easy.
Instead, you got to fumble your way through the dark with a flashlight up your ass and hope you were going in the right-ish direction. Ideally without making things worse. 
Wayne was here though, and that had to count for something. 
(Knew it counted for something--because Eddie was still here. 
They had cleared hurdles far higher than this when it came to trust. They’d get through this too, come what may. 
Steve too.)
“Can I just ask,” Eddie started, aggressive as always when Wayne finally gave in and entered his room, feeling all sorts of awful for the migraine Steve had to have, “what the absolute fuck is happening?” 
Sure as fire he was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing a mile a minute.
An unlit cigarette hung between two fingers, looking a little chewed on, but otherwise undisturbed--as it should be, because one of Wayne’s few rules was that smoke stayed outside the house. 
“You could.” Wayne said loudly but agreeably, as he turned himself around and dropped down next to his kid.  
Held out the Garfield mug, and was happy when it was taken from him. 
“Figured you might have other things to say, though.” 
Likely a lot of things. 
It was as good an opening as any, and his kid didn’t disappoint, launching right to it. 
“Why is he here and not at a hospital?”
 ‘Here’ was punctuated by Ed’s hand winging towards the door, and while it wasn’t the righteous fury Wayne expected, it was at least, an easy answer to give. 
“Steve has some people looking for him. Bad people. Hospital makes him an easy target.” 
Wayne was still talking loud. Could only hear Eddie himself because he was looking at the kid’s lips more than he was actually hearing his voice. 
Eddie took that in, swallowing it about as well as he’d swallowed anything he hadn’t liked. 
And thank the stars above, he finally reached a hand out and turned the music down. Not a lot--Steve wouldn’t be able to hear them over all this--but enough that Wayne didn’t have to struggle. 
“We’re hiding him from the cops now?!” Ed’s spat. 
“Cops know he’s here. Hopper’s the one who asked me to take him.” Wayne reminded him, because it was the truth. 
Not the full truth, but given how Ed’s pissed off half the local PD on a good day, Wayne absolutely did not want to see his nephew take on Federal Agents.
(Particularly not the kind who were going ‘round killing kids.) 
“So--what?” Eddie yanked hard on his hair, a gesture that looked less intentional and more like he was trying to fight his own anger down. “Hopper just called you up and said ‘Hey, we had a whoopsie with the rich kid, the hospital’s not safe anymore. Can we stash him with you for a few days?” 
Wayne nodded once, slow-like. 
Always remembered how too fast movements had made Eddie flinch and jerk back when was littler, and given the way Steve was looking, figured it was a good time to be cautious again. 
“He did.”
“And you just--agreed? Just like that!?” 
“I did.” 
He pretended not to see Eddie boggle at him at the simple admission, so furious that he seemed to struggle for words when he normally had too many to say. 
Wayne took advantage. 
“We did talk a bit more than that, I’ll admit.”
Ed’s scoffed. “About the weather I’m sure.” 
“‘Bout trust.” 
Eddie blinked at that. 
“Trust.” He echoed flatly. 
“What have I always told you? People like to ask you to trust them, but you they don’t get to have it until--” 
“They provide proof or a reason.” Eddie finished with an eyeroll. “So which did Hopper provide then?”
Wayne took a noisy sip of his coca. Smacked his lips a little before saying: “Both.” 
Didn’t bother to say anything else, because he knew Eddie would finish the thought for him. 
“One of them was me, wasn’t it.” 
Eds didn’t say it like a question, but Wayne hummed in agreement anyway. 
He wasn’t gonna shame his boy, but he wasn’t gonna sugar coat Eddie’s involvement in this either. Not when he’d already admitted that was half the reason Hopper had gone to Wayne to begin with. 
“No one is expecting Steve to be here.” He said, seeing the chance to hammer home the most important part of this entire shitshow. “So long as no one finds out he’s here, he’ll be safe. Everyone will be safe.” 
Steve from the Feds who were hunting him for while he was busy being involved in shit he couldn’t control and Eddie because he had a mouth that most people didn’t like. 
Not small town people anyway, and absolutely not authority figures with guns. 
“Who’s even after him?” Eddie was theatrical as always, hands waving away as he talked. “Did he make a deal with the mob? Piss off some other rich guy? I know it’s not anything drug related, I’d have heard about it by now.” 
After years of experience, Wayne knew exactly how far to lean away to stay out of range, too used to his nephew talking with his entire body.
“That’s his story to tell ya, Ed’s. It ain’t mine. Same way it ain’t my place to tell him your story.” 
That at least got the boy to think for a minute. Put down that frustration he carried with him all the time, and use the brain they both knew he had. 
“How long is he staying here?”
Wayne shrugged. “Don’t know.” 
Eddie sighed and mockingly mimicked Wayne, taking an obnoxious slurp of his cocoa. “The neighbors are going to notice if he’s here more than a few days. The trailer park isn’t exactly big.” 
“They didn’t notice that time you decided to make fireballs with the cooking spray and about blew up half the driveway. Don’t think they’re gonna notice someone being quiet in the house.” 
Eddie snorted, and probably rolled his eyes again, not that Wayne could see it given the kid was looking into his own mug as he thought it all through. 
Wayne sat with him as he processed. 
Eds worked at his own pace with things, and while life at large might be against that, Wayne was happy to let him do it. Found it easier that way, then trying to poke and prod and force him like so many father figures did. 
Wayne’s patience was rewarded not even a full minute later, when Eddie turned to him and asked; 
“What if he finds out?”  
This in a quieter voice. An unsure one--words and body hunching in a way unlike the Eddie the world outside knew, but very much like the little boy Wayne had brought inside his home. 
It took Wayne  a moment to connect the dots--he’d been speaking out of the place parents and authority figures often do, and in doing so hadn’t thought much of the fact his nephew had a real secret. 
The kind small town minds didn’t like--and would kill him over. 
This all wasn’t about Wayne taking in Steve, he realized abruptly.  It was that Steve being here meant Eddie couldn’t be himself. 
Could not relax in a place he was accepted for who he was, because Wayne knew and made sure Eddie understood he was wanted here, had a place here, regardless of who he loved. 
Now, Wayne had gone and removed it.
‘Shit.’ 
“He won’t.” Wayne said. 
Knew that wasn’t enough, and so, promised: “But if he does, I’ll make sure he understands his safety here relies on your own.” 
Ed’s chin jerked in a nod, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment before the boy did as he often did when he wanted a hug but felt too awkward to ask for one, and tipped himself into Wayne’s side. 
“Thanks old man.” Eddie whispered into his shoulder and not for the first time, Wayne wished things were easier for the poor kid as he put his mug in one hand and hugged his kid with the other. 
Hoped that in the future, it would be.
Even if he had to force everyone and everything coming after him--and now Steve--to do it.
(Wondered vaguely, how bad it was that he was already getting as protective as Steve as he was of his own kid.
Probably very, given his kid clearly hated Harrington.)
xXx
Wayne took the first night of Steve’s stay off.
He wasn’t the type to use his PTO lightly. Was used to rationing it for any possible thing Eddie might need him for.
A night up sick when he was younger, to a night spent chasing him down during some of their bad spots--but the last year or so Wayne had slowly realized he hadn’t had to use it much.
He was still careful with it though, precious as it was, and was thankful for it now as it ensured his nephew didn’t murder their house guest. 
Or at the very least, didn't sit there pecking at him.
The kid might've failed English a few times, but he had a real gift with words and an even better one with insults.
(Wayne wasn't quite clear on what all the "King" jabs were about, and absolutely did not get why Steve looked far more hurt at the comment about his "sad ass floppy hair" but given the increasingly flat look Steve was throwing Eddie's way, Wayne figured it couldn't be anything good.)
Thankfully a pointed reminder about Steve's injuries had finally gotten them all some peace, enough for Harrington to drop back to sleep--and for Wayne to realize he looked a little too dead while he did it to be comfortable getting any sleep himself.
The kids chest barely moved, and that it ate at Wayne’s until he got up and shoved a hand under his nose. 
Felt his breath, and told himself the poor sod was fine. 
Hurt, absolutely, but alive. 
Over and over again, until the sun had made its rotation in the sky, bringing the morning with it.
‘Better than nightmares, I suppose.’ Wayne figured, as exhaustion scraped at his eyelids.
Those Wayne knew, would come later. When Steve’s brain caught up to the rest of him, and stopping dumping survival chemicals through his battered body. 
He'd given up on sleep entirely sometime around 1 am, and now he sat at his small kitchen table, writing out a medication schedule for Harrington so he and the kid both knew when he could have his next Tylenol. 
Wasn’t even halfway through it before Eddie made his typically late appearance and blew through his door. 
Had his back up from the moment he’d stepped a foot in the kitchen and it didn’t take a genius to see he’d worked himself into a snit again.
Unfortunately for him, whatever scenario that imaginative brain of his had cooked up fell flat to the reality that was the poor kid on the couch. 
Steve Harrington was one a hell of a sight.
Didn’t help that he was doing his level best to make himself as small as possible, curled deep into Wayne's ancient couch.
The blankets covered the ribs and hid away most of the damage, but there wasn’t much Steve could do to hide the shiners on his face--or the marks around his neck.  
Not when they’d grown worse overnight, practically inviting questions.
It was almost laughable how quickly Eddie ate whatever words he’d prepared, mouth awkwardly chewing around them as if they were tangible. 
The less-than-sneaky looks he threw at the younger teen were equally amusing, and if Wayne wasn’t trying to peace keep, he’d have given in and chuckled when Eds split attention caused him to pour half his coffee into the sink rather than a cup. 
Looked utterly lost when, after finishing putting his coffee together and grabbing some junk food thing that absolutely was not a breakfast item, he came to stand awkwardly at Wayne's shoulder, openly staring as Steve blatantly ignored him.
Eds didn’t know what to do, and Wayne couldn't blame him. 
Seemed to keep thinking he was going to encounter a boy that likely no longer existed, and whose blood tinged specter just made things sad.
Shit like this, Wayne knew, took a man’s ego and warped it, shaping it to something else entirely. 
At least for Steve, it seemed that getting wrapped up in whatever mess he had had shaped him for the better, instead of pretzeling him into something worse. That, Wayne thought, spoke to the boy's character more than anything he’d done prior. 
(It helped to know what Hopper tolerated and what he didn’t. That he’d vouched for Steve in the same way Wayne knew he’d vouched for Eddie, even if Eddie didn’t yet realize the cop he antagonized so much would do that for him.) 
That didn't erase the history his kid had with Harrington, though.
Wouldn't stop him from seeing the old Steve, first.
‘Don’t you got school?” Wayne asked when he decided Ed had stared enough. 
“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waved him off, trotting out the door. “Bye old man, house parasite!” 
It was clearly a jab, meant to nettle, but Steve barely acted like he heard it. 
Wayne rolled his eyes. 
“Goodbye, Eds.” He said firmly, much of a warning as he ever gave, and fondly watched his nephew scuttle out the door. 
Turned to see how Steve was taking things, and was once again given a reminder that Steve wasn’t doing a hell of a lot other than feeling his injuries. 
“I think I promised you a game, son.”  Wayne said gently, startling Steve out of the distant, dim look he had trained on the wall. 
It wasn’t a lot to offer in terms of a distraction, but it would have to do.
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varuunsith · 8 months
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this is the gayest thing in star wars since luke's channel boots to the sarlacc pit btw.
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inkskinned · 1 year
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something bad happened to you, and you died, and you came back wrong.
not wrong all the way. the little ways. you forget important dates, stopped going out with friends. it's harder to make you smile. you're apathetic towards things you used to love, afraid of places you used to go to cheer up. quieter. flinching. different.
you came back for love. you're still here for love. what pulled you back was a brightness so loud that even death couldn't outshout it. death heard the call and smiled at you and said okay. go home. somebody is waiting for you.
but you came back different. like lot's wife; you've turned into salt. you used to chirp through life in hops and skips; but now you lose skin just standing up. you have to move slower, skimming across this world without-touching-it. most things feel dull - until they're suddenly all-too-much. life, and being alive just rushes up and over you and you get hopelessly crushed.
you try to explain it to them: it is ugly, but this is what you are, now. the huge golden hoop of your halo now a little bronze ring. you are still watering your plants and wearing the same clothes. after all, you worked hard to come home. this life; so odd and off-color, now that you are wrong.
but they waited for you - it's just that they wanted the "you" that happened before this. the "you" that could sing in the show and hug people tight and look at a blade without breaking down to cry. the you with a smile in pictures. god, holyshit, it's like looking at a completely different person, isn't it. that other-you; the one they actually wanted.
you are the consolation prize. you are the body that forgot the ghost. you are the memory of the bad thing, and the death after; like you are wearing that memory as a banner. you are a fragment, an assembly. simulacrum. you don't make eye contact in mirrors, afraid the light will glance off and your true nature will flash back at you.
you hear them talk about it in their hushed, desperate whispers. sometimes they even admit it to your face; harsh and violent, acid thrown at christmas dinner. god, can you just fucking be normal again. you do not remember what normal is. you had to climb so far to get back here; you are far too exhausted. you want to open the glass door of your heart and show all the gears. can you help resolve whatever got messed up?
you try so, so hard. you came back for them. because you believed they would love you, even when you were so horribly broken. because you believed they would be patient. because you believed unconditional meant "without exception." you cannot do things the same way. you just get tired too quickly these days.
you want to put them on a couch and pour them the tea with hands that shake more than they remember. you want to line them up and draw them a map of where you have had to wander. you want to show every bruise in a backsplash; the little helpless ant of your soul carrying all that weight, over and over. you want to say: yes! it is different! but i did it for love!
you want to say: "i'm not the same, but i'm yours and i'm here. can that be enough?"
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