#you will discuss everything you will try to help everything
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The Big Mercedes Debate - George Russell x JapaneseOlympicCross-CountrySkiing! Reader
Plot: Ski-Trip with George, Toto, Suzie and Jack where your all discussing the future of Mercedes, and how an Olympic Cross- Country Skiier can help.
Credit to blimeygeorge for the GIF
"She's really good" Suzie complements as she watches you zoom ahead on your guy's ski run. You were all cross country skiing through the mountains.
You were set to try out snowboarding tomorrow as despite having an affinity for snow related sports, you'd never tried it. But as of right now you were doing what you did best, skiing.
You slowed down a few times to let the others catch up and you helped Jack become more steady of his ski's, holding his hand as you slowly went down some little slopes as he giggled overtime he got something right and you congratulated him on it.
George couldn't help but admire the way you acted with Jack, and it was one of those pivotal moments in a relationship where you knew that your partner was in fact 'the one'. He was grinning from ear to ear, not that anyone could see that behind his balaclava and mask.
After a morning of skiing, Jack started to get hungry and was tugging at the sleeve of your jacket, begging to go on your back and ski to the lodge really really quickly just so he could get his filling.
"Ah, not we have to wait for mummy, daddy and George so we can all go together. But I promise you if you can hold out while we all ski back I'll make you a hot chocolate tonight?"
"Extra cream and marshmallows?" he asks with a grin and you nod your head before you all continue down to where you can all grab something to eat.
"So Toto, how's finding George's team-mate going?" you ask after taking a bite of your sandwich and wiping your mouth clean of the crumbs and any sauce that remained.
"Y/N!" George scolds shaking his head as if you'd just brought up something really taboo.
"George, leave her alone it's fine!" his boss laughs, looking between the two of you.
"We've got options, and that's led to rumors as you've probably already seen!" he laughs taking a sip of his coffee.
"Mmmm, the Max one made me laugh!" you smile taking another bite before everyone went silent.
"Wait ... are you being fucking serious?" you say covering Jack's ears up so he doesn't hear the swears, making him giggle and swat your hands away.
"Well, Max and I have had conversations... I wont deny that" he smirks and looks at you.
"Shut up, tell me everything!" You squeal looking between Toto and Suzie.
"Well, Max has been in a championship car for the last few years and it's been rumored for a while that Adrian was leaving Red Bull and I you know, every option is possible. I don't think he would take my offer, but there's loads of other options, Carlos, Alex, Kimi ... we are looking at Frederick, Mick etc" he smiles, knowing there was options it was just tough choosing.
"Yeah, you've got a lot of good options... I think Kimi needs to be given a change in the feeder series though, let him at least have a full season in F2 before committing anything!" you admit nonchalantly.
"Damn, hoping i was going to go for Max Verstappen 2.0!" Toto laughs, smiling and wrapping his arms around Jack who had climbed into his lap.
"Mmmm he's a special case. Don't think anyone can recreate what he's done ..." you smile.
"Well, I think Alex would be really good as my team-mate!" George admits putting his own input in.
"Mmmmm, now are you saying that because he's a good driver ... or because he's your best mate. Because I would not mind having Lily around more often!" you grin, having been close to Alex's girlfriend for a while.
"Alex hasn't shown much this season, him and Logan ... have kind of been on par!" Toto offers, preferring the stability of someone like Carlos.
"Yeah, but the Williams this year is trash. You can't expect much from the pair of them when they are in an unstable tractor! He's gone from a Red Bull to Williams, very very different" you joke knowing the Williams just wasn't as developed this year.
"Mmmm that's also true... say Y/N how does a Olympic Cross Country Skier from Japan have such an opinion on an F1 team" Suzie interjects.
"Well, I've got an amazing boyfriend who teaches me a lot!" you smile pulling George in for a kiss.
y/user
Liked by georgerussell63 and suziewolff
y/user: Family holiday while i look like P4 helping debate the future of Mercedes...
Tagged 3 people.
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georgerussell63: It's been a blast! I love you lots darling!
georgerussell63: you are so beautiful baby!
fan1: It's so funny that they are all on holiday as one big family while debating who will take that second Mercedes seat...
-> fan2: it's funny she has been included in the discussions lol, she's a cross country skier!
suziewolff: leave it to the girls to fix things eh?
-> fan3: MOTHERS!
-> fan4: is this confirming the future of Mercedes has been set?
fan5: Y/N to Merc 2025 confirmed
Instagram Story Caption
Georgie said I looked coquette 🎀🩰🌸🐰
TagList:
@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul l @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1#formula one#formula one fanfiction#george russell x reader#george russell imagine#george russell fic#george russell fluff#george russell#gr63 imagine#gr63 fic#gr63 x reader#gr63#mercedes
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DPXDC Prompt #58 Part 6
Everything happened so fast that when Danny finally got to flop onto his bed at the Wayne manor he let himself sink into the covers with a heavy sigh. Everyone broke off into their own rooms to change into more comfortable clothing once they had arrived. Jazz and Danny both had rooms, they started out as guest rooms but were quickly personalized since they tended to spend a lot of time here. Danny even brought most of his models and other various precious items that he didn’t want broken accidentally by his parents (again). His and Jazz’s rooms were set up just like the other bedrooms in the manor, with an ensuite bathroom. They both had dressers, walk-in closets, queen sized beds with ornate nightside tables, and decent sized desks with windows looking out to the backyard garden.
They were allowed to decorate it any way they chose so Jazz had her room painted a dark teal color with an extra shelf for some books she’d been studying, most being the field of Psychology. Danny meanwhile chose to paint his room a dark blue reminiscent of the night sky, complete with glow in the dark stars and some that didn’t glow, that were painted by Damian, they had all worked together to map it all out as accurately as they could.
Danny briefly let his thoughts wander as he tried to process the day's events. Was he okay? He wasn’t even sure at the moment, he was pretty sure he was a ghost temporarily and the weirder part was the cool feeling he felt from his chest was still there.
Danny with a change of clothes in hand went into the bathroom attached to his room. He looked at his reflection again and he looked rough, his eyes were red from crying and he looked exhausted.
He turned away and quickly got into the shower to wash himself.
The water felt hot on his skin but he marveled at the fact that he could still feel it. These thoughts helped ground himself as he finished up with his shower and got dressed in the comfy PJ’s he grabbed.
He found himself staring at himself in the mirror again. He couldn’t help it, his ghostly appearance from earlier had scared him and his normal looking reflection he now had was comforting.
He looked like a normal person, like he always did, his bags were now gone. Some small part of him thought maybe it was all a dream? That small part was wrong and Danny knew it deep down, but that small part still hoped.
Did he still have a pulse? He was still breathing and he was sure his heart was still pumping so he probably had one.
Going back over to his bed he picked his phone back up and after a quick Google search on how to check and what his rate should be he held two fingers to his other hand and counted.
He ran his hands through his hair and took a shaky breath. He counted his BPM at 29 BPM while the normal rate for him was around 60. So it was now less than half what it should be. He wasn’t sure how worried he should be about that or if he should tell anyone or keep his mouth shut. He couldn’t be a meta now either. Him and Jazz had spent hours discussing what it would be like to carry the meta gene and one day get powers.
He watched his reflection from the vanity above his dresser, would he turn back into that pulseless form?
A knock startled him out of his thoughts as he let out a small yelp. He almost didn’t register his eyes that flashed green for just a moment as he felt his heart skip a beat.
“Danny! Alfred called us down for dinner, everyone else should be down soon as well…” Jazz called from the other side of his bedroom door, her voice sounding like she was trying to keep up a sense of normalcy.
“Right… coming!!” Danny replied, his eyes lingered on themselves for a moment before he let out a small sigh and grabbed his phone and followed Jazz down the hall.
A few moments passed as they walked side by side in silence, Jazz kept sneaking glances at him, like she couldn’t believe he was here either. She hesitated for a few minutes before speaking, “...Danny? Are you… Okay?” She spoke slowly like she was scared he’d disappear and at that moment he wanted to do just that.
He wasn’t sure exactly what he should tell her, he felt okay but he wasn’t exactly sure. Everything felt the same but different, everything was the same as it had been before his accident but now he felt a weird dissociation with the world around him, like he wasn’t really there. He couldn’t explain that feeling to Jazz so he shrugged.
“Honestly your guess is as good as mine as we know about the same.” Danny answered with a sigh.
Jazz gave him a look that he couldn’t quite decipher, “are you sure you should be up and around then?” Her voice was quiet again like she was afraid he’d disappear. Danny couldn’t help but stop in his tracks as he thought about it.
“I mean, nothing has happened yet? I can’t really explain it.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand as he looked down and refused to meet her gaze again.
He continued walking after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence and soon they arrived in the Dining room.
#dp x dc prompt#danny fenton#danny phantom#dp x dc#dc x dp#poor danny#new power shenanigans#definitely in the next part#his body is settling right now#Jazz is heavily traumatized#Danny is too but he's so traumatized he can barely register it#dissociation warning#Dissociation#I've dissociated heavily before and it sucks#especially when I look at myself in the mirror#Danny looses control of his powers in the next part#Tim and Damian are definitely discussing things right now#I probably won't have their point of view but they're definitely freaking out right now#They've both realized what happened and they're freaking out#especially Tim#I'll be focusing on Danny's POV just because that's what I'm most comfortable writting#also happy mothers day to anyone out there#I'm over at mine right now I made breakfast for my own#Hope everyone has a fantastic day#my asks are open#all my prompts are free to use
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How do you feel about using multiple spells for a single goal? Doing wealth spells one after another until you're out of difficulties, for example, versus doing the one and letting it be?
I've got a chapter in a book I'm probably never going to publish about this. It's long. tl;dr: hell yeah cast a lot of spells for one thing, that's a great idea. Upg alert, etc.
Compound Magic: Many Hands Make Light Work
Compound magic is the phrase I’m using to discuss two similar ideas.
The idea is that if working one act of magic can affect our physical world to any degree, then working multiple acts of magic on the same subject can affect it to a greater degree.
This works at both the macro and micro levels.
By “macro,” I mean casting entire spells to influence various situations.
If you’re casting a home prosperity spell, casting multiple prosperity spells tends to be more beneficial than casting only one. Following our Witch-as-Monarch metaphor, you can cast spells that are like geologists seeking resources, like road-builders to strengthen trade routes, or like festival celebrations to revitalize your citizens.
More literally, if there is a situation that is resistant to change or in need of serious transformation, you can build a spellcasting altar dedicated to that single issue.
Spellcasting altars are useful in the practical sense that if you’ve got a whole altar for it, you might not forget that it’s something you wanted to work on.
They’re also very useful in the magical sense that as you dedicate a new “counsel room” to this topic and begin filling it with advisors, knights, heroes, spies, managers, and agents, and then continuously empower your Allies to work on your behalf through dedicated spellwork, all of these powers begin to compound and support each other.
In other words: the action of casting multiple spells can have additive or supportive effect which helps all the spells work better.
Not only this, but spells can begin to file away the rust on a situation and get the gears working - but run out of energy before the mechanism is truly brought to life.
If a single spell didn’t appear to manifest as desired, that doesn’t mean it didn’t do anything. It could mean that the situation was improved behind the scenes, laying a better foundation for success for your next spell.
Therefore, compound magic also means cleverly assigning spells to loosen up a situation and prepare it for change, to banish potential roadblocks, to protect the desired outcome, to empower the desired aspects of the situation, to bind the unwanted aspects, and so forth. In this manner, casting compound magic doesn’t necessarily mean to cast prosperity-generating spells over and over – it can also mean to cast banishings, protections, cleansings, and so forth, in the pursuit of prosperity.
This may all sound like a lot of work, but recall that we’re talking about very resistant situations, or situations in need of a lot of transformation before they suit your tastes. However, I hope you’ll agree with me that this concept in general actually really helps take a load off, because:
If your strategy is to work multiple acts of magic, then no single act of magic you work ever has to be perfect, or even exceptional.
Spellcasting anxiety is very real, and in my opinion boils down to the worry not only that unless everything is perfect then everything is ruined, but furthermore, that if any single spell doesn’t work it means the practitioner is a fraud.
If you instead adopt the mindset that it’s quite alright to need to work three or four acts of magic to influence a sticky situation, each spell feels less like you’re an actor making your debut performance in front of a judgmental audience, and much more like you’re going to try and treat the problem with a vinegar spray first, but if that doesn’t lift the bonds that’s quite alright because you’ve got a baking soda scrub to try next.
This isn’t to say that I think every single situation is going to require multiple spells to make the magic “work.” Far from it. But I don’t find there to be any utility at all in assuming every situation should be fixable by only one spell, and if that spell fails then there’s something wrong.
Overall, I find that the witch who often engages in acts of magic to keep the home safe and prosperous will find that this compound effect begins to work organically, and that over time all acts of magic eventually lead to an enchanted life, to greater or lesser degrees.
On the “micro” side of this concept we can examine the enchantment of a single object or formula.
Instead of considering that we can use multiple spells to influence a situation, we can see that we can work many smaller acts of magic over time to produce a single powerful spell.
Think about woodburning a very hard, difficult piece of wood. During the first session you may only get an outline of the design before you’re exhausted and in need of a break. The wood is still imprinted upon, but it’s far from the completed project you envisioned.
During the next woodburning session, and the next, the design is slowly filled in until it meets your standards of satisfaction.
This is conceptually very similar to re-casting the same enchantment over and over on a single object until desired results are obtained.
This is extremely useful for the pragmatic witch who may not have the ability to plan out spells on specific times and days, or who must act now without every ideal ingredient on hand.
And not only that, but it’s also useful for the witch who would just like to have some fun with magic and doesn’t want to twiddle their thumbs waiting for the most ideal possible moment to act.
If a witch would like to work up a pot of Noontide Shield Oil (pg. 34), but the working felt less than lustrous, the formula can simply be re-enchanted again next Sunday to deepen and solidify the enchantment. Or, suppose the original oil had to be worked in less than ideal conditions, or perhaps even with entire ingredients missing: the missing ingredients can be added later on, the spell re-cast over the same vessel in more ideal conditions, and so forth.
The same goes for any spell vessel, formula, charmed ingredient, or enchanted object.
These things can be fully re-enchanted by performing the original spell over again, switching focus from adding ingredients to empowering and instructing ingredients already added.
But they can also be encouraged in more minor ways, especially through regular feeding (pg. 9).
I think it’s important to note here that we’re basically talking about cooking. A chicken soup where you have to omit the chicken, and then shred up rotisserie leftovers and just add it to the broth when having leftovers, is not going to produce identical results as if you had been able to cook the chicken in the soup.
Either way, you’ve still got chicken soup - it's just that an enchantment made in the most ideal conditions is not going to be identical to an enchantment made in non-ideal conditions and later fortified.
So I don’t believe that it’s correct to say that ideal conditions don’t matter. I think they do matter, and that practitioners will notice an appreciable improvement if they are able to work with ideal circumstances.
But I also believe it’s correct to say that if you continuously re-cast enchantments towards the same objects and formulas over and over again, while supplementing missing or lacking factors, over time that enchantment deepens and becomes more permanent and more powerful.
Just like macro compound magic, I think that this helps reduce the difficulty in working powerful enchantments. You don’t have to work yourself up to exhaustion casting a single powerful enchantment that wipes out your ability to work magic for three days. You can meter your energy and pour out small amounts of your power, when needed or as desired, and slowly build up powerful magics around you.
Then, when an important “macro” situation arises, consider how it would feel to be able to reach for a variety spell vessels and formulas you’ve already been empowering for months, keeping them fresh and alive through periodic attention and feeding. Things begin to feel much less like a witch alone in a room, and much more like an empowered monarch surrounded by Allies.
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Ticklish Blade x Reader
Platonic + 47. "I wasn't even touching you." Requested by anon for my 1K Followers Event🌻
Guess guess what scene inspired this, hahaha!
It felt... odd. You eyed the driver nervously. He was so quiet. Not more quiet than usual, but in this case it was kind of concerning.
"Blade...?" you murmured. It was already a surprise that Blade was offering you a ride while you had no idea he even had a driver's license. But the bigger surprise was when you realized Blade was sleep-deprived, and getting in a car accident with him was not necessarily on your wishlist.
Too bad the realization came only after he started the car, and you were now trying to make sure he wasn't falling asleep.
"Blade?" you asked, louder this time.
"What."
Another person would think he was angry, but you knew him better by now.
"Are you sure you're alright? I can go there myself. No need to help me."
"I'm fine. I already told you."
You gazed out of the window, then back at him. Instead of acting like you were worried about him, maybe a more selfish attitude would do it then.
"I appreciate your gesture, really. I'm just wondering if you can get me there in one piece."
You saw him frown a little. "Are you doubting me?"
"Not your driving skills, of course. But... Your current state. Blade, you haven't slept at all. I'd like to keep living, if you'll let me."
He was quiet for a moment and you had a feeling he was going to ignore this discussion. But then he simply pulled both hands off the wheel, and you gasped.
"What are you doing?!" you shrieked, only for Blade to look at you, with his hands right above the wheel and the expression on his face almost, what was it... taunting?
"The car is driving itself. Now happy?"
Oh he was totally taunting you. How petty, hehe.
You would laugh at it, but because of the jumpscare, the first thing you did was let out a sigh in relief. "I can't believe you," you said, faking as if you were going to hit him, but to your surprise he jumped slightly and blocked himself with his arm.
"Don't," he hissed. You stared at him and cocked your head.
"Huh? What're you getting all defensive for? I wasn't even touching you."
Blade glared. "Yet. You sure were about to."
You chuckled. "What, is the almighty Bladie afraid I'm gonna hit him? For real?" you teased.
"Don't call me that."
It was strange, Blade wouldn't recoil from a hit, fake or real, not from an enemy and definitely not from you, so... You smirked.
"Hey!" Blade's voice did quite the thing when your finger pierced into his side, poking him misschievously.
"What are you doing?!" he asked angrily.
"I have a feeling you just thought I was going to tickle you, weren't you? Which inspired me... to actually tickle you."
"I did no-ahh! Don't! That's dangerous! Stahahap!" Blade yelped when you tickled him again. You couldn't stop grinning. This was just gold.
He must've witnessed the two or three times you ended up getting in a tickle fight with Silver Wolf the past days, which caused him to think you were actually going to tickle him just now? The idea wouldnt even cross your mind!
Well, now it definitely did.
"Dangerous how? You said the car is driving by itself. I'm just making sure the driver and passenger won't get bored in the meantime," you said, wiggling your fingers against his side. Blade squirmed in his seat. This was just wonderful. You could see him struggle to not move too much - since then it would get a little more dangerous after all.
Right now he was merely trapped in the driver's seat and forced to endure your little tickle attack.
"I'll - ahah! Stop that!" Blade's angry giggles were everything. You knew you were really being too reckless for someone who valued life so much until seconds ago. But ticklish Blade was actually a discovery worth it.
"Gehehet ohohoff!" Blade swatted at you, and the lack of force in his reactions only made you go "aww". He wasn't entirely helpless - there were plenty of ways he could make you stop without crashing the car, but those might probably include hurting you, or...
Nah, never mind. He would never.
"Lahahast chahance!" Blade warned, jumping hilariously in his seat and twisting from side to side to avoid your relentless tickles. Using both hands, you wiggled your fingers against his sides and ribs, and occasionally tried to poke his tummy, but he really blocked that area with all of his might.
"Last chance or what?" you asked, but finally he managed to catch one of your hands. Then without warning he clawed at your side, tickling you back, and you screamed in surprise.
"EHEyes on the road sihihir!" you cried out in sudden panic. Blade froze, appearing shocked by the volume of your voice. You had already pulled your knees up and lay curled up in your seat, watching him in fear as you anticipated his counter attack. He would never tickle you back: you were confident about that. But... not anymore.
He sighed. "Then stop tickling me." Blade finally put his hands back on the wheel, and for the second time this ride, you sighed in relief.
It was funny to hear him say that word. Hmm. Maybe you just ruined your chances of having your first ever tickle attack with Bladie. But tickle fights in cars were never ideal. You smirked. Knowing he was ticklish and might even potentially tickle you back, you couldn't help but store this information in your head for another time.
"Don't you even think about it," Blade said, probably noticing the smirk on your face.
"I wasn't thinking anything~" you sang, but of course both of you knew that wasn't true!
#x reader tickles#honkai star rail#blade#x reader#blade x reader#tickling#tickle fic#otomiya!writes#hsr#lee!blade
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I’ll start with some news.
I am currently locked out of my twitter account. We did everything we could to try to get it back, but no matter what happens, it will most likely take some time.
I don’t like bringing attention to this kind of stuff because we have tons of other things to talk about which are more important than some toddlers trying to obliterate us for 1000th time (frankly I would rather talk about the colour of Leona’s butthole), but this time it’s kind of serious and important. We don’t know what’s going to happen next, but for now I wanted to say that if we won’t get the account back in time or will lose it indefinitely, we will have to ask for your help. I am sorry for that in advance.
Also, if you were discussing/working on commissions with me via DMs there, please email me or contact me via any other platform as soon as possible. Just in case.
Mass-reporting is wild, eh?
I am rambling a bit, and I didn’t really want to complain, because I know for a fact it would give satisfaction to some people, but you know? I am going to complain: it sucks ass. It happened at the worst time possible and it happened over nothing (literally, the art that got it was a Todd/Wallace non-sexual piece that got too many likes for children’s liking). I don’t care if people don’t like us, I don’t care if they gossip with their girlies about us, all I want is for them to leave us the fuck alone and let us do our thing in peace. Imagine being so unbelievably boring and so incredibly unlikeable and unable to make meaningful connections not only with other people but also with any kind of media that you just have to go out of your way to ruin things for others because this is the only thing that makes your immature brain produce something that even remotely resembles joy. Because your own pathetic self is so deeply insecure and constantly frustrated at yourself that you just have to create an illusion of control over someone else to feel important. I can’t even call it a troll behavior – at least trolls are funny sometimes. This is just someone who hit a midlife crisis at the age of 16 and made it my problem for some reason.
And yet, it’s okay. Even if we end up losing our account, it’ll be a huge disappointment and it will hurt us tremendously, it already did. And it’s scary to think about this scenario, and it’s difficult to talk about how, if it happens, that it’s going to be okay. But eventually we’ll get over it and build ourselves up again, just like we did before several times. And these clowns will still be boring, unlikeable, lonely and very likely shit at drawing.
So yeah. Take care of yourself and block everyone who seems suspicious on sight. It’s not a panacea, but certainly is helpful.
Alright, time to talk about Leona’s butthole (not really, but we will talk about SebeMal, and it’s even better) 💪
Anonymous asked:
Seeing Vanitas made me curious about something: did you ever read Pandora Hearts? I think for a lot of people that series went hand in hand with Black Butler as the main "victorian aesthetic mangas" from the late '00/early '10. Gothic lolitas really had it all back then..
Ohh you’re so right Anon, it was the ultimate late ‘00/early ’10 aesthetic! Boys in vests with bows/ties, crosses and rosaries and traumatic and problematic backstories lol I really miss it sometimes. What an era.
I personally haven’t read/watched Pandora Hearts, but Katsu did! But it was even before we met… So my only association with this title is that Katsu’s old username was “ozbezariusnya” 🥰 Oh, and that Gilbert (?) looks very cute, but let’s be honest, of course I would think he is cute.
nebula-ryuu asked:
Regarding my question, I mean if the Malleus and Sebek ship has a dynamic or a context 😅😅 a background or a story. I have a certain feeling about what it is like but I don't want to affirm anything hehe
I don't know if I made what I said better understood, in any case I can explain it again, no problem 🙏
Oh! Thank you for clarifying!
As for our background for shipping them, we just really really love loyal characters that are a bit unhinged about their loyalty and love/obsession. So we didn’t even have a choice, they stole our hearts… and Malleus is very interesting in his interactions with Sebek too; he is annoyed by him sometimes, but he tolerates a lot and teases him.
As for the ship itself, we tend to think that in addition to Sebek being loyal and obsessive with Malleus, he is also deeply in love with him ever since he was a child. He is conflicted because he really wants to be his lover, but also thinks that he isn’t worthy. Malleus is amused by Sebek and allows him to do much more than he probably should. Actually, I think I talked about their dynamic in this post!
I hope I understood you correctly. Thank you for your question! And if you have any more questions, please let me know.
Anonymous asked:
would Lilia and Azul ever fight over who gets to have Idia?
Replied here! Thank you for your question, Anon.
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「Screw It」 · Chapter 2
HIS SECOND THOUGHTS
➥ Chris is supposed to 'let loose' at the biannual depravity festival a.k.a the Sigma Kappa mixer.
➥ The author chooses not to issue tags for everything that takes place in this work to preserve some element of surprise where applicable. By continuing, you accept to proceed at your own risk. Read full disclaimer here.
➥ Installment of The Red Lights Chronicles
⚠ — Discussions of virginity (see masterlist for more)
“How the fuck is everyone so natural at this?” Chris quickly scanned the large room, his face contorted in mild shock.
The entire place was buzzing with laughter and varying levels of sleaziness. People talking to one another way too closely, dancing a bit too intimately, licking salt off each other’s necks and what have you…
Then you had the Holmes-Watson duo at the secluded corner of the bar, looking way too serious like they were discussing politics over brandy in the late 1800s.
“Did you notice how the guys are exchanging their dick game testimonials?”
“WHAT?! No?”
“That’s because they don’t!” Jisung slid another shot glass towards his friend and raised his for a toast, “Everyone’s just following their instincts, my man. It’s called thinking with your dick.”
It was frustratingly easy to tell someone (not) to do something, wasn’t it? Oh, don’t worry about it. Change your perspective. Don’t let it get to you. Turn a blind eye. Don’t be depressed.
Actually doing it, though? Goddamn monk patience right there.
It wasn’t like Chris was incapable of assigning the driver’s seat to his reproductive parts. If anything, his mind was way too preoccupied with it, but strictly when he was alone rather than in public functions like this. A force of habit to be ‘proper’. Every time he was about to get physical with someone, that same footage installed itself in his jumbotron inner-mind theater like a cruel foreshadowing of what was about to go down.
Getting scarred once isn’t enough? Try the latest Christopheresque methods of self-torture for a chance to win a gift card!
In conclusion, no, he couldn’t figure out a way to ‘not let it get to him’.
He was trying, and god fucking knows he wanted to remove that bothersome splinter buried six feet under his façade, but something always seemed to conveniently get in the way.
This one’s too chatty. That one’s on TikTok. This one thinks it’s okay to say ‘irregardless’. That one wears too much lime green.
As if any of that was fundamentally important for sexual chemistry. But he couldn’t help it.
The more time passed by, the bigger his inadequacy complex grew since he wasn’t able to, quote, ‘stack up those XP points when he could.’ Now it seemed too late like he missed some important deadline, and the whole thing was a piece of gum stuck to his shoes, continuously faltering him and making cringeworthy noises when he walked.
You. Suck. You. Suck. You. Suck.
Maybe pursuing doctoral education was just a massive overcompensation on his part, who knows?
“It’s not rocket science, man, just…” Jisung mimed something that was supposed to be his soul leaving his body, “Let loose.”
“Let… loose,” Chris echoed his words while zoning out, but his mind was simply not cooperating with him to be present, “Shit! I needed to revise my syllabus.”
“My god you’re a nerd,” Jisung looked at him in utter disbelief, then sought help from Minho behind the bar, “Ares package. Make it two.”
While ten shots of Wet Pussies were being prepared, he examined Chris’ distracted face. Channie boy was like this for as long as Jisung knew the guy. Stubborn. Headstrong. Latching onto everything he could find to repair his pride. Of course it didn’t mean shit to be a virgin regardless of where you were in the adult timeline, but instead of admitting how much it was bothering him, Chris was pretending to be at peace with it. That was the frustrating part. And if he weren’t spectacularly failing at it, Jisung wouldn’t even consider dragging his ass to every social gathering he could find, but simply talking to the man did not seem to be working anymore. This bootleg immersion therapy was his last resort before he brought up the alternative of escorts again and risked getting punched in the face.
Or worse, another seminar on the ethics of sex work.
“Stop sabotaging yourself,” Jisung slapped him on the shoulder, “Just enjoy the moment for once.”
Why, I’d love to see a step-by-step demonstration of that, Chris wanted to loudly roll his eyes but pumped the brakes at the last second. He wasn’t even mad at Jisung. He wasn’t mad at anyone actually. The only person he loathed with a burning passion was himself for making a huge deal out of something that was supposed to be so damn trivial. He raised his shot for a silent toast and downed all five back to back to take all the residual edge off.
He didn’t want to fucking think anymore.
“She seems cool,” Jisung nodded towards a girl surrounded by what looked like the distant cousins of the Kardashians.
“I don’t think so,” Chris immediately protested, “Looks like she would livetweet it.”
“How about her?”
“GOD no. Too much Slytherin energy.”
“How is that even—?”
“Not the Lestrange kind. Pass,” Chris leveraged Jisung’s one weakness, “You know what, I thi—”
“Fucking stop overthinking this, or I’m gonna risk it all and slap the shit out of you,” he held onto Chris’ broad as fuck shoulders and harshly shook him, “Tonight we’re letting loose. Say it, what are we gonna do?”
“Let–Let loose.”
“With feeling.”
“Let loose.”
“DIG DEEP!”
“LET LOOSE!”
“Can I be a part of that?”
The duo was startled to death when they heard an unfamiliar voice next to them, not to mention right in the middle of a mortifying pep talk. The commandments of Wingmanism dictated doing the preliminary eliminations on behalf of your bro, immediately prompting Jisung to turn on his radar.
Looks? Check. Locked phone? Check. Lack of lime green? Check.
Without giving Chris the chance to make a dumbass argument, he approved of this candidate and nudged the prospective coupling of the night towards the couch. When he turned to the bar again, he heaved a huge sigh as if he had just put the kids to bed.
“Still trying to get him laid?” Minho asked with a faded sneer.
“I’m gonna die with my eyes open if I depart this world without seeing it,” Jisung hyperbolically gestured, but one look at the gorgeous cheekbones in front of him, and his whole entire personality changed, “But more importantly, whatchu doing later tonight?”
“Damn, they don’t do pleasantries where you’re from?”
“Come on, you like me,” he leaned forward, the smile on his face impossible not to reciprocate, “Why do you drag me around so much? I’m obviously simping for you.”
“You realize I’m holding a sharp object.”
“That’s your version of batting eyelashes. Everybody knows that.”
As much as he wanted to keep the psychotically stoic mask, something about the quokka dude was just plain irresistible. Careful not to give a hundred percent of what he wanted, Minho let out a snort and darted his eyes away.
“Ask me again in two hours and we’ll see.”
Jisung triumphantly slammed his hand on the bar top, scaring the shit out of his porcelain prince, then disappeared into the crowd to mingle with some of his friends.
Meanwhile on the blue corner, Chris was midway through one of the most intense mental statistics of his life.
The girl in front of him was a total ten. He knew a couple of guys who would murder him in cold blood just to get with someone like her. One needed to have inoperable astigmatism not to notice she was encouraging him to… well, let loose. Her body language was clearly indicative of willingness. Touching his arm, playing with her hair, laughing at a genuinely unfunny joke—if he made a move now, she would leave with him.
Ergo, p < 0.05. Possibility of score: 97%.
“Do you think we can take this somewhere… more private?” the nameless girl finally brought it up herself when Chris failed to mention anything remotely evocative of sex. It was a simple yes or no question, but he was choking harder than B-Rabbit in 8 Mile.
She was objectively so damn hot with the kind of body you would brag about in locker rooms. That was supposed to be his focal point, but he was having trouble focusing on her words, let alone being turned on. All he could think about was how this conversation couldn’t be any more boring, and he had endured a finance lecture once. Nothing was ever going to come out of bedding this girl tonight. Even her perfume smelled like the looming regret of the morning after.
There had to be something fundamentally wrong with him at this point.
Uh oh, do something. She’s getting closer, DO SOMETHING!
“OKAY, I’m gonna go,” he jumped to his feet, giving no fucks about providing a reasonable explanation, and almost booked it towards the front door.
“Chris?” Jisung called out after him with slight concern, but Chris had half a mind to set fire to this place. Everything, everyone, all of it was suddenly too much.
“Later, bro.”
Only when he reached the safe bubble of his home did his heartbeat slow down to a normal rhythm, letting him heave a half-relieved half-disappointed sigh behind that closed door. Shower was the least of his priorities at that moment—he went straight to his room, got naked, threw himself to his bed, and started scrolling through his phone to find something to jerk off and sleep.
Art, art, gif, gif, art, text post, incorrect quote, gif, gif, art…
Then…
bassboostedjiscake reblogged:
Closeted sluts living under a rock, check out my girl. Creaming guaranteed 🍦
Jisung was the horniest guy he knew, so if he dropped this on Chris’ dashboard, it must have been at least worth taking a look. He clicked on the profile thinking he was going to be greeted by Jisung’s newest favorite ‘adult content creator’ posting semi-nudes, however—
🌶️Oni
@scovillescale
I like pizza. And creating sexy universes.
Sexy… universes?
The fuck did that even mean?
After scrolling through a bunch of Q&A posts, he got to the cream of the crop. Technically, yes, this was an adult content creator, but not in the format he was used to. Finally noticing what he was looking at, Chris couldn’t contain the scream bubbling up in his throat.
“This is goddamn 2D porn!”
If it weren’t for the fact that he was bored and horny that one night, he probably wouldn’t have been at this exact part of the Internet, but he was, and for a man who thought animated porn was high art, this blog was a fucking gold mine.
His worlds had collided.
Shortly after, he found himself deep into the rabbit hole of this Oni person’s body of work. Artwork being pretty was one thing, but the story? So captivating that he couldn’t put his phone down.
“BUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?!”
The last time he startled himself with his own voice was probably when he was reading one of those original choose your own adventure books. He stayed up till 3 a.m. binging one story, completely forgetting to jerk off until the very last sex scene, which depicted the female lead riding her love interest at the back of a car while choking him. The orgasm he had to that?
Fucking sublime.
Once sufficient blood started flowing to his brain again, he immediately hit follow, then fervently typed a message.
Anonymous asked:
HOLY SHIT I mean it as the highest compliment possible, but I came so hard reading this. Your style is awesome and you got an instant fan. Can I be your 🍍 anon?
He didn’t even think twice before hitting Ask with the orgasm high, but all of a sudden, he remembered Jisung’s wording in that godforsaken reblog.
Closeted sluts living under a rock, check out my girl.
My girl.
So he had just told a woman at three in the morning that he masturbated to a story she created and that he came so harfwnekjfnwfnw THAT WAS SO FUCKING INAPPROPRIATE!
Chris wanted his bed to swallow him whole, beside himself with how mortified he was. He only meant to convey his admiration, completely skipping over the fact that he wasn’t talking to one of his online bros. God, the disrespect… There was no way to edit this goddamn digital owl, let alone delete it before this turning-sex-into-art goddess saw that.
His fast-forwarded panic monologue was cut short barely a minute later. He saw the reply post on his dashboard, and it made his heart jump in his chest for no reason.
Someone was online. At this hour.
Thank you for being so awesome! Also you got taste. Pineapple pizza slaps!
#🍍 anon
The amount of relief he felt for not being called an uber creep was enough to knock him to sleep. He reread the message at least five times before putting his phone down.
“She likes pineapple pizza?” he chuckled to himself stupidly in his bed.
What a goddamn scandal.
He clasped his hands under his nape and replayed the night in his head one more time. His talk with Jisung, the encounter with the nameless girl… Some things did come naturally to some people, and Chris always found himself panicking when he tried doing the same.
Maybe he just wasn’t meant to experience some things in this life.
“Why couldn’t you be at the party tonight?” his smile trailed off into a disappointed sigh while looking at the dark screen of his phone.
⥊ TO BE CONTINUED ⥋
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AUTHOR'S NOTE
For every Minho with a pudding, there is a corresponding Chris with a pineapple. I don't make the rules.
Oh, wait, I actually do.
「© 2021-2024, cb97percent · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」
✉ Enjoyed this? It would be cool of you to reblog so that my work can reach more people.
#bang chan smut#bang chan scenarios#bang chan imagines#bang chan x reader#bang chan x y/n#bang chan x you#stray kids smut#stray kids scenarios#stray kids imagines#stray kids x reader#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x you#skz smut#skz scenarios#skz imagines#skz x reader#skz x y/n#skz x you
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Lawrence Bluewer | Headcanons
Including: general, relationship (x reader)
cw: none, mentions of “traditional Victorian era” views on heterosexual relationships, but otherwise this is relatively gender-neutral to be inclusive 💙
Read more P4 headcanons here: 🪻x 🌹x 🌱x
General:
As we all know, Lawrence has seven sisters. He’s the only boy in the entirety of his siblings lol.
When he isn’t studying or remaining loyal to Blue House, he would be a bit more relaxed in private. As such, he’s — to no surprise — an introvert who prefers the company of those he’s known a long, long time. Or, rather, family members.
Even so, his sisters can be a bit… much. So, Lawrence does appreciate his own quiet time left alone when he has the chance.
His parents have tried and failed throughout the years to arrange a marriage for him. While he’s a man of tradition and standards, Lawrence prefers to focus himself on academics at Weston College before worrying himself with a spouse.
Relationship:
To absolutely no one’s surprise, Lawrence has little experience in the realm of romance. Sure, he has sisters and experience navigating how a woman might act, think, dress, and so on. But it’s not at all the same as courting one.
Still, I do see him as the type to be going about his business and bam — he meets someone and becomes a flustered mess against his wishes. It’s not quite the same as “love at first sight” but it’s pretty damn close. Lawrence would be taken completely off guard by someone who seems to connect with him upon first meeting.
You can absolutely guarantee that Edgar would try to play matchmaker, try to give unwarranted advice, or even set Lawrence and his crush on an outing. You know that blond man would.
The chances of Lawrence succumbing to Edgar’s whims or “generous offers of help” — as the blond calls it — are slim to none. Lawrence would rather read books, consult his calmer sisters, and try to do things his own way.
In terms of an “ideal” person, I believe that someone who can mentally stimulate Lawrence would have him swooning. Whether that be through games of chess, academic theories and knowledge, or even just supporting his escapades to seek out new things would be perfect for him.
A bit of manga spoilers that I didn’t include in Gregory’s but implied; having a supporter of his time in S4 at the music hall is also a good way to keep his attention. The sins of his past are haunting him and his friends. You likely wouldn’t know about it but whether you found out about it or not, showing him your unbridled loyalty is enough to make the stone-faced man cry.
To be honest, Lawrence is rather… simple to please. Once he falls for you, and you continue to woo him by showing support, respect, and having meaningful conversations with him, there’s not much else to do.
Outings (dates) are usually simple but nonetheless well-thought out and organized due to his diligence. He’s punctual and likes to ensure everything is no less than perfect for you. It isn’t about impressing you but rather, showing you he’s responsible. Plus, order and absolution have been instilled into his personality since he was young; so it’s likely that any managing or planning skills are second nature to him.
Acts of service is his primary love language. While traditional displays and gifts are common — and of no shortage due to his wealth — he feels much more comfortable doing things to make your life easier and show, rather than tell, of his affection. But, if you preferred a different love language then he would be willing to discuss it further and if it was something unfamiliar to him such as physical touch or words of affirmation, then he would find a compromise with you.
At the end of the day, Lawrence is also one of the two more “traditional men” of the original prefects so I do believe marriage would be in the future for you and him. Despite pressure from his family and sisters, Lawrence much prefers to love you in a way that is practical and altruistic with his acts. He’s patient and respectful, however, and would wait until you were ready for such a large step in the relationship.
#lawrence bluewer#lawrence x reader#lawrence bluewer x reader#black butler Lawrence#x reader#black butler x reader#black butler headcanons#anime x y/n#anime x reader#kuroshitsuji x reader#kuroshitsuji lawrence#kuroshitsuji Lawrence Bluewer#kuroshitsuji headcanons
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accident prone
part two - I laugh often, so, I suppose, I’m gonna be fine
Paring: Steve Harrington x fem!OC - Francesca “Frankie” Amato
Summary: Steve and Frankie really get to know one another, and the friendship blossoms quickly. So fast, Steve can’t keep up with his own feelings, even in the face of an emergency.
WC: 8.6k+
Includes: angst, hurt/comfort (like, a lot), internalized ableism, language, PTSD, revolving around Hawkins/the Upside Down, discussions of chronic pain/illness and disabilities, a teensy bit of fluff and flirting if you squint, medical emergencies, etc.
series playlist ⋮ masterlist
here, here and here - meg & dia
↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺
“I’m a wanderer now, sorrow befalls me / I laugh often so, I suppose, I’m gonna be fine”
A/N: hey there! Wow. I didn’t think this would really gain any attention— this fandom seems to hate OCs (y’all’s loss tbh), but the support I got on the last chapter, though small to some major blogs, means a fuck ton to me. I don’t want to tag everyone, but thank you to whoever sent me a kind message or pep talk after posting the first part— I really am glad this is relating to others with chronic health concerns, one way or another. Even if it relates to one person, it means more than meaningless notes. Also, may 12th is Fibromyalgia Awareness Day! So, consider this my contribution lol. As previously stated, for anyone with fibro, or without, but living with a chronic illness/condition, mental and/or physical, I am sending all my love, and this is for you <3
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
The next morning, Steve’s up early; if he can’t push past the pain, he’ll try working with it. He refuses to let the opportunity to get to know Frankie slip away.
And the opportunity for a possible job. That’s important, too. Just… not right at this very moment.
What the hell do I wear?
He glances at the pair of glasses he’s been neglecting lately, just annoyed he needs yet another tool of assistance to help him function; his vision blurs easily these days, especially with migraines. And while it’s not severe, he’s been warned to wear the glasses to prevent further deterioration of his vision.
To Steve, it’s another reminder of how broken he feels. If this was about anyone else, he wouldn’t feel that way, but when it comes to himself, the internal ableism never ends.
Just like the day before, everything hurts terribly. It’s one of those days where even certain fabrics and elastics add to the widespread ache, and it’s not like he has to dress up, but he doesn’t want to just show up in sweats, either.
At least I don’t have to wear that ugly, stiff uniform anymore.
He opts for a well-worn, loose cardigan with a pair of jeans that he ripped at the knee years ago; the tear is conveniently over his bad knee, making it easier to wear the brace he has on his bad joint days. And today, he really needs it.
Steve also needs a boost of confidence and a way to shake his nerves; the thought of seeing Frankie again and possibly getting another job have him on edge.
Too bad there’s no medical device to assist him on that one.
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
Noticing the ‘CLOSED’ sign on the door of the record shop, Steve hesitates, realizing he should’ve asked Frankie about the hours; a tiny note taped to the bottom of the sign catches his eye. “Unless your name is Steve,” is scribbled in disheveled handwriting, with a small smiley face drawn at the end.
Entering the record shop, he first sees Frankie, sitting criss-crossed on the checkout counter; her cane is laid over her lap while she’s meticulously applying stickers to the aluminum. The door’s chime goes off, and her head pops up, immediately breaking into the warm smile Steve had thought about since the last time they spoke.
“Steve!” There’s an urge within her to hop off the counter and greet him with a hug, but she holds back, reminding herself that they’re barely even friends. “Hi,” She opts for a wave instead, eyes falling to the coffees, one in each hand.
He shyly nods with a sweet smile, all bundled up in layers most folks would consider unnecessary. For him and his temperature intolerance, the obnoxious amount of warmth is very necessary.
“Hi, Frankie,” He hands her coffee over to her, in all its icy, sugary sprinkled glory. She takes it, eyes crinkling as she smiles wide. Steve can’t help teasing, “Cade’s right, you really are sick for liking iced coffee in the winter.”
Her smile flips into a comical frown before snarking, “He’s never getting that damn tape now.”
“The one about dinosaurs?”
Frankie snorts just as she takes a sip of her coffee, covering her face with her sweater bundled arm.
“Robin told me you’d say something like that.”
“… So it’s not about—“
“Steve, it’s the name of a band,” She giggles, moving her arm away from her face. Steve notices the way her sleeves cascade over her hands completely; the sweater she’s in is way too big, but with that and her flowing skirt, she looks comfortable, and warm.
“Right. I knew that!” He tries playing it off with a shrug, “They’re great.”
“You’ve never listened to them before have you?”
He laughs at the knowing smirk Frankie gives him, shaking his head, “Yeah, no, not at all.” If this was high school, he’d be trying to save face right now, to look cool, pretend he knew what he was talking about. Mid-twenties Steve is able to let it roll off his back, poke fun at himself, move on.
Plus, Steve knows this interaction wouldn’t happen at all in high school. Labels and useless popularity would keep them far, far apart. He’s alright with that; Frankie definitely didn’t need someone like ‘King Steve’ and his bullshit to deal with.
“Okay. What about Jawbreaker?”
“… The candy?”
Frankie giggles, shaking her head, before running down a list of bands off the top of her head; The Cure, Joy Division, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Strawberry Switchblade, Sonic Youth, Nirvana, the list went on. Steve says most he’s heard of, but never listened to. Some, he’s heard some of their singles on the radio.
“You’re into all that… punk stuff, right?” He’s a little lost, but he’s headed in the right direction. Frankie doesn’t tease him for it, though.
“To an embarrassing degree,” She smiles, crinkling her nose, and oh, god, Steve’s not expecting the way that sets off butterflies in his stomach. “And new wave, grunge, honestly some pop, too— oh! Dolly Parton! Just her, though, can’t get into any other country otherwise. I’m a mess when it comes to music interests.” She shrugs.
He shakes his head, shrugging his jacket off before unwinding his scarf; Frankie catches on immediately, pointing to the coat rack behind the counter.
“No… it suits you.”
“Is that an insult or a compliment?”
“O- oh, no, I meant that in a— it’s a— nice way, promise!” Frankie smirks as he stumbles over his words. “So… got any recommendations on what to start with?”
“Oh, don’t you worry, Steve. I’m gonna make you a mixtape later.” No pretentious undertone can be found in her words; Frankie’s just really excited to introduce someone to music they haven’t heard. “What do you listen to, then?”
Steve sits on the stool behind the counter while Frankie still hangs out on the countertop, kicking her legs over the side now. He watches as she continues sticker-bombing her cane; it’s got quite the variety of holographic stars sprinkled about.
“Uh…” He shrugs, tugging at the edges of his sleeves before shoving them in the pockets of his cardigan. “Whatever sounds good, I guess.”
Frankie narrows her eyes at him, “C’mon, you can do better than that.”
Steve nervously laughs as a hint of red creeps across his face.
“Okay, uh… Queen, Springsteen, some of Bowie’s stuff—“
“Some?”
“I just- I can’t get into it all!” He stammers out. Frankie dramatically sighs, throwing her head back with a hand over her forehead, pretending like she’ll faint. When she levels her gaze to him again, she gives a teasing smirk, and he carries on, red in the face. “I like U2’s last album… uh, shit. What’s it called?”
“Achtung Baby?” She’s so quick to answer in a nonchalant tone, like this is common knowledge.
“Yeah! That one.”
“Oh, you’d really get along with my dad, then,” She teases, watching Steve’s expression flatten in a playful annoyance. “That’s not a bad thing! Bring it up in your next appointment— actually, don’t. He’ll talk about it for hours.”
Steve laughs, pushing his glasses up his nose with his pointer finger, “Alright, I’ll try to remember that.”
“Might want to write a reminder with the brain fog,” She quips, and it easily earns a chuckle; if anyone else tried to joke about his symptoms, he’d be bothered. To laugh it off with someone else equally as sick as him, though, is weirdly… cathartic. “Sorry, I’m distracting you. Go on.”
“Okay, don’t make fun of me, but Blondie’s got some good stuff, too.”
“Yes!” Frankie throws her hands out excitedly. Steve admires how animated she can be.
“I like a lot of other stuff,” He’s becoming more comfortable talking about this, not as afraid of rejection. Frankie didn’t give that kind of attitude off, but he second guesses himself always these days. “But it’s just singles and stuff.”
“Gimme a list one of these days, I’ll give you some recs.” She looks up from her sticker work on her cane, warmly smiling, but it falters seconds later. “Not pushing that on you, but it might— you don’t— don’t be afraid to tell me no—“
“Frankie.” Her name comes out of Steve’s mouth like the night before, a combination of reassurance and teasing. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”
Dusting over her cheeks is a tint of rosy pink as her smile returns, ever so slightly. “Okay, cool.” She plucks a star sticker off the page, leaning towards Steve to stick it on his forehead. Her touch makes Steve’s heartbeat quicken, but it’s over as soon as it began. “Congrats, Steve, you’re hired.”
Brows furrowing, he doesn’t bother to remove the sticker. “What? Seriously? That was the interview?”
Frankie nods enthusiastically. “You already seemed nice, and got a good review from your best friend—“
“Seriously, what did she tell you?”
She pretends to zip her lips shut and shrugs, holding back giggles.
“I’ll get you all that boring ass paperwork later, but yeah, I’m serious.” She holds her cane out, rolling it in her hands to make sure the stars are placed the way she wants. Her tongue pokes out while she’s focused, and Steve thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world. Directing her attention back to him, she continues, “I don’t wanna work with someone I just tolerate.”
Though Steve’s flattered to find he’s more than just tolerable to her, he’s still skeptical; not of her, but how this friendship is growing so easily, so suddenly. “Frankie, we barely know each other.”
“I don’t know anyone else my age that’s disabled, and you just… you get it. I wish you didn’t, but you do. If you don’t wanna work here, no hard feelings, but I want to continue getting to know you.” Her words, her tone, even her facial expression, they’re all sincere. “If you’re up for having a new friend, that is.”
Steve nods embarrassingly fast, but he doesn’t care. “My friends get it to an extent, but I don’t have to explain shit to you, and it’s… well, I don’t want to say nice, ‘cause like you said, I wish you didn’t know what this was like, either. But it makes me feel a little less alone, I guess.” His fingers grip the edge of the stool between his legs, arms straight, as he looks away shyly. “And I- I’d like to make you feel a little less alone too— jesus, that makes me sound like a douche. You get what I mean, right?”
“I get you, Steve, don’t worry,” Frankie picks up her coffee, holding it out to Steve. It takes a few seconds, but he catches on, grabbing his own coffee to hold out to her. “To a sick friendship. Get it. Sick? ‘Cause we’re both—“
Steve knocks his cup against hers, smirking, “Yikes, I thought my humor was corny.”
“Fine, no more jokes at all, then.” She deadpans, but her expression immediately cracks, breaking into a laugh, one that scrunches her nose and crinkles the edges of her eyes. It’s contagious, pulling Steve into her fit of laughter, too. “Yeah, I got a good feeling about you, Steve.”
“Huh? Like what?”
“Oh, we’re not that far in the friendship, buddy.” She props her cane onto the floor, sliding off the counter. The proximity between her and Steve when she’s on her feet is a little too close for him to handle, breath hitching in his throat. “Gotta earn the sappy moments, man.”
With that, Frankie rounds the counter, heading towards an aisle of vinyl records. She turns back to him, “Well, you want a tour?”
Steve’s eyes widen as he scrambles off the chair, “Y- yeah, that’d be— I probably need to know where things are.” Frankie resists teasing him further, leading him around the shop.
The pair walk slowly as she points out the main sections, split into three— vinyl records, cassette tapes, and CDs.
“I still can’t get behind ‘em. They’re too flimsy for my clumsy self.” Frankie’s lips curl in a snarl as she eyes up the racks of the shiny discs, tucked away in their jewel cases.
“At least they’re not LaserDiscs,” Steve murmurs, cringing. “I hated those things.”
“Yeah, never was a fan myself,” Her brows crinkle. “They’re like frisbees.”
“But vinyl… isn’t?”
“No. And I’m not elaborating.”
“Francesca, you’re something else.”
She scoffs playfully, “Can’t believe you just called me that. You’re fired.”
“Mhm, sure.” He smirks before glancing around the shop; it’s on the smaller side, but jam-packed with nearly anything and everything music related. Beyond CDs, tapes, and records, are band shirts, Walkmans, headphones, record players, tape players and boomboxes, useless novelty items, and so on. “So, when’d you open the store?”
“Oh, I didn’t. It’s not mine, only running it for now… kinda took over when the owner had to take a sick leave.” Frankie begins leading Steve towards the back, through a worn, beaded curtain. She points to an open door, “Stockroom,” Then, to the door across the hall. “Break room.”
Steve acknowledges her directions with a nod before asking, “Oh, are they okay? Well, wait. Shit. I guess not if they’re on— my bad.”
Frankie gives him a half-smile, more for the sake of reassurance, along with an answer, “Dementia. So, uh, yeah. Probably not coming back.” A pained expression washes over Steve’s features. “The own— Mr. Fisher wanted to close the shop when his health continued declining, so I told him I’d keep it going for him. This was before the diagnosis, he just knew something was wrong and warned me he’d most likely shut down.”
“That’s… fucked.”
“Yeah. He actually lived a few floors up, now he’s in a senior living home.” She wanders into the break room, falling onto the worn couch hanging out in the heavily used space. Steve sits on the opposite side, not wanting to invade her personal space as he listens intently. “Cool dude, hired me years ago, and he was really into jazz when he was younger. Like, used to play the sax for a living. He knew nothing about punk music, but he loved asking me about it. I learned a lot about jazz from him, too.
“He was empathetic with my pain, too. The couch is back here ‘cause he felt bad I had nowhere to rest on break. Then he ended up using it more than I did.” Frankie’s a little dazed as she retells the circumstances. “I knew he’d never get better, and he knew it too, but I told him I’d love to watch over the business until he’s ready to come back. Couldn’t stand watching this place close, so… yeah. S’why I asked you.”
“I’m sorry, Frankie.” It’s all Steve can come up with, but it’s genuine, and she can tell.
“I hope it doesn’t come off like I’m telling you this so you’re guilted into being here, ‘cause if you wanna find another job, don’t feel like you have to st—“
“You do that a lot,” Steve blurts out, but it’s not mean-spirited. He stammers, “N- not that— it’s not bad— sorry—-“
“And you do that a lot,” Frankie observes bluntly. “Guess we’re kinda similar in the whole ‘overly apologetic’ department, huh?”
Steve glances at her, sighing with a hint of a sad smile. “Guess we are.” He rests his head on the back of the couch, blowing air between pursed lips as his eyes fixate on the ceiling. “Anyway, you’re not guilting me. I’m staying.” Then he sits back up, narrowing his stare at her. “Unless I’m still fired.”
She sits up, shoving her hand out towards him. He grabs it as she shakes it obnoxiously, snorting, “Steve Harrington, you’re re-hired.”
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“Fibro’s just like… a bag of jellybeans.”
Steve scoffs out a laugh, lost on Frankie’s words. “I’m sorry, what?”
At the end of the day, Frankie and Steve wound up at a diner, still caught up in the excitement of getting to know a new friend.
“Y’know, it’s always a mystery over what color and flavor you end up with ‘til you get it.” Frankie begins to explain, hands on the diner’s table; Steve’s noticed she talks with her hands, a lot. She’s always so animated, even talking about the most mundane subjects. “And you might have ‘em all, but there might be more of one flavor, or another. Fibromyalgia is just a bag of symptoms, ‘cause you don’t know what’s gonna hurt that day ‘til it does— does that make sense?”
“Oh, like, I get a lot of headaches, sometimes ocular migraines— the first few times, those freaked me out, and joint pain the most, but the other symptoms still exist, too, just not as frequently.” Steve scrunches his eyes shut with a nod, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Right? Or maybe I’m way off—“
“No, that’s exactly it!
“That’s actually… a really good analogy,” He tucks the comparison away in his mind, for future use. “Wait, so you also have fibromyalgia?”
Frankie’s about to answer, until the waitress brings their milkshakes and fries to the table. Her smile over something as simple as a milkshake is contagious, and Steve finds himself grinning along with her.
“Yeah, but we found out lupus was a bigger concern,” She shares casually. “Y’know, I wouldn’t wish fibro on anyone, but I’m pissed you have to deal with it.”
Steve’s face distorts into confusion. “Why d’ya say that?”
“It’s such a fucking mess of a disability. Tests come back normal, x-rays show nothing, MRIs are clear, too— shit is so infuriating. You’re living in constant pain and most people don’t believe you. Then ya’ got these fuckin’ misogynistic doctors who see it as a “woman’s disease”— yeah, it’s more prevalent in women, but men get it too, and it’s like y’all are told to just… suck it up. “Man up”. Deal with it.
“Honestly… not sure which sucks to be told more, that you’re just “hysterical and attention seeking” for being sick as a woman, or being told you’re just a “whiny baby” if you’re sick as a man.”
Steve only stares at her; Frankie feels warm under his gaze, sinking into the booth.
“Sorry, I— you’re so spot on, I have nothing to add.” Steve’s shaking his head, fidgeting with his napkin. “But I can’t get over that someone my age fucking gets it.”
Frankie sighs, relieved to hear she wasn’t overdoing it with her rambling.
“Steve, I hate that we’re both in pain, but it’s… it’s nice not having to struggle alone, for once.” She stretches her legs under the booth, resting her boots on the cushion on Steve’s side. He mirrors her, sneakers kicking up to rest next to her. She smiles, nudging his shoe with her elbow. “Copycat.”
“You really lucked out having a dad who’s a doctor,” Steve softly chuckles, and Frankie smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Immediately, he panics he might’ve said the wrong thing. “I- I don’t mean that in a bad way—“
“No, I know you didn’t. He—” Frankie looks off, eyes fixating on the bustling traffic out the window, despite the two of them being seated in the far end of the diner. She looks back to her milkshake, swirling the straw mindlessly. “He wasn’t always a doctor. He wasn’t in the medical field at all, not ‘til I got sick as a kid.”
“Wait, really?”
“Yup. He got tired of taking me to specialists for them to always say I was being overdramatic, or “Oh, she’s a girl, she might just be faking that for attention.” I guess what I was going through made him realize shit had to change for the sake of us sick folks. I don’t know how anyone would be able to juggle a full time job, full time med school, and raising a kid on their own, but he did it. Even if shit is terrible most of the time, I’m grateful to have a dad as incredible as him.”
Steve let Frankie’s words sink in before curiosity took its hold, “He’s a single parent?”
Frankie sips from her milkshake, looking back at Steve as she sits back. “Wasn’t always, but yeah. Never met my mom, she, uh, she was sick, too. Cancer. Passed before my first birthday.”
“Jesus, Frankie… I’m so sorry.”
She shrugs, trying to let the everlasting sting roll off her back. “I heard she was really sweet, and funny. My dad showed me some home movies a few years back, and it was the first time I heard her voice. She was so pretty, and happy, and—“ She shakes her head, scoffing at herself. “God, I’m sorry for rambling.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for. If you ever wanna talk about this… or anything, I might not know what to say, but I’ll always listen.”
“Right back at ya’, Steve,” She murmurs, gaze friendly before sipping her milkshake.
“I don’t think you want to know my story,” He tries shrugging it off, as if a chuckle would follow, but never does.
“I do, and I mean that.” She firmly states, locking eyes with him. “But only when you’re comfortable sharing it.”
Steve nods, “Yeah. Maybe someday. Kinda hard to even talk to my therapist still about it.”
“You’ll get there eventually. On your own terms.” Frankie can tell he’s uncomfortable, searching for a change of subject. She looks back at his legs, still next to her in the booth. “Isn’t your leg cold?” She nods to the hole in his jeans, right above his knee.
“Yeah, but I needed to wear my knee brace today.”
“I can sew loose, stretchy fabric in, and snaps to remove it, if that helps,” She slurps down the last of the milkshake. “You cool with hanging out longer?”
Steve can’t suppress the grin that graces his face.
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Frankie’s apartment is in a repurposed warehouse; a large studio, cluttered with art supplies scattered all about. An easel hangs out in the wide open room near a window, with canvasses, both finished and unfinished everywhere surrounding it. Cups and cups of paintbrushes, tubes of paint, pastels, graphite pencils and drawing pads strewn atop nearly every surface. A sewing machine rested snug in a corner of the open room.
Among it all was the kitchen and living room; down a hallway were the doors to the bathroom, and her bedroom.
After Steve changes into the sweats Frankie found for him, he enters the main room, holding the sweatpants up by the waistband awkwardly, handing his pair of jeans over to her.
“Sorry, I knew they’d be kinda big, but not that much.” She has jersey knit fabric already cut, sewing snaps to the edges. As she works, she elaborates, “I keep a buncha sizes in clothes, ‘cause my weight fluctuates all the time with flare ups.”
“That’s actually… really smart.”
“Yeah, I got tired of buying and donating the same several sizes over and over. Just easier, and cheaper, to keep ‘em all on hand.” Frankie’s zoned into the impromptu project, so Steve wanders around her apartment, stopping at the kitchen table, blanketed with multiple sketches.
“I didn’t know you could draw.” He wonders aloud, glancing over the sketch pad papers. There’s a certain style he can’t quite put his finger on with her work; for plain subjects and ideas, they’re incredible.
Steve turns to the easel with her latest work in progress. It’s a portrait of a woman weeping, holding a mask of her face that’s smiling over her real expression. It’s gorgeous work, but he feels a pang in his chest, wondering if Frankie feels this way more often than not.
“Holy shit, Frankie…” He breathes, recognizing his own struggles through the piece; how often he feels as if he needs to bury his own pain to keep everyone else comfortable. Then again, who hasn’t felt at one point or another they need to cover up how they truly feel?
“I hope that’s a good “holy shit”,” She responds as she continues sewing.
“Your work is amazing,” He’s still staring at the painting, admiring how her art style is slightly unkempt, and leans toward traditional tattoo-style art, but she makes it work somehow; some of the paint bleeds outside the lines, or speckles in random splotches, like watercolors, but it adds character. “Do you just paint as a hobby?”
“I actually had plans to become a tattoo artist, did an apprenticeship and everything,” She murmurs, loud enough for him to hear, but still weighed down with disappointment. She pulls the denim away from the sewing machine, trimming away the loose threads. “Can’t really tattoo when you’ve got unpredictable hand tremors, though. S’why the paintings are such a wreck.”
Oh.
“Shit. That’s…” Again, Steve can’t find proper words of empathy. “I’m sorry.”
Frankie finally glances over her shoulder at him, “Kinda normal for folks like us to leave behind our dreams. Mourn what our lives could’ve been, and what they used to be.”
The familiarity of surrender in her voice hits Steve hard. He might not have had the same dreams to give up to prioritize his health, but it’s still an experience similar to hers. Giving up any dreams or goals he had to accept they probably wouldn’t, couldn’t, come to life. He’s watched his life’s potential slip through his fingers, and has no way of stopping it from vanishing completely.
Mourning what your life was isn’t easy, either. Reminiscing on better health in earlier times of your existence, proof you’ll never be that happy, that healthy again— even if Steve was unhappy deep down in high school, he wishes he had the energy to still fake it.
“Yeah. Fucking sucks.” He mutters. At the same time, Frankie turns to him, holding his jeans out for him to take.
Steve glances over her handiwork, grateful to have soft fabric that’ll finally work with his knee brace, while being removable when it’s too warm out.
“On the bright side, at least you’ve got a friend who gets it now.” She’s speaking softly, with so much, too much, understanding. It helps to finally have a friend who can relate, but with that comes sharing the same emotional hardships, ones that feel endless.
Still, it’s better than navigating that all on your own.
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It’s been a handful of weeks— maybe about a month and change— since Steve’s life began to feel good again. He’s not sure how long exactly, he just knows since finding a doctor that sincerely cared for his patients, and befriending Frankie, someone his age he could finally relate to, he doesn’t care to keep track of time like a dismal countdown.
He’s not counting the days he feels like a prisoner in his own body anymore.
Timing, though, is always perfectly unfortunate when it comes to Steve’s luck, and life.
On a dull Wednesday night, he and Frankie are closing up the shop before their plans to meet up with Robin at the diner. Steve has had a muted ache in his head since the previous night, but it wasn’t enough to keep him in bed, thankfully. He took some Tylenol earlier in the day, and that helped with staving off most of the pain. Any relief he can find, he happily takes.
The sun isn’t setting as early anymore, a sign winter’s almost at its end; he’s been looking forward to spring, because this cold has done no favors to his aching joints. Until then, he’s still bundling up ridiculously to keep from violently shaking in the cold.
“Hey, Frankie?” He’s looking behind the counter, puzzled. His head feels heavy, thoughts settling in a thick fog. Pushing past it, he asks, “Have you seen my scarf?”
Frankie returns from the tiny stockroom, keys swinging lazily on her finger. “Is it the blue one?”
“No, it’s—“ Steve pauses, hands on the counter to hold himself up from a sudden bout of dizziness. He gives a weak laugh, “I can’t even remember if I wore one at all. Maybe I didn’t.”
Frankie’s quick to notice something’s not right when Steve practically white knuckles the edge of the counter; her firsthand experience with chronic illness is setting off alarms in her head.
“Steve, you should sit down—“ She rushes around to him, pushing the stool towards him. Grabbing his shoulders, she pushes him gently into the chair. “What’s going on?”
“S’blurry,” Is all he mutters to her. She lifts a hand to his forehead, and he shivers, speaking up a bit more, “You’re always cold.”
She keeps her panic to herself, and rolls her eyes with a tiny smile, pulling her hand away to reach into her bag on the floor; straightening back up with a heavily sticker-bombed water bottle, she hands it to him.
“When’d you last eat?”
Steve shrugs, weakly sipping out of the bottle. “Uh, a few hours ago, I think.” He’s struggling to stay in conversation as the vision in his one eye blurs. “Frankie, I can’t see shit out of this eye.” He points to the right side of his face, hand nearly limp.
“Does your head hurt?”
“Been hurting all day, actually,” He waves his hand in front of his own face, repeating, “Yeah I- I can’t see a damn thing out of this eye.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Wasn’t a big deal ‘til now— shit—“ Steve clutches his head; everything’s too overwhelming. The lights are too bright, the buzz of electricity is too loud, and he feels nauseous. The dizziness is only growing stronger, too. Curling into himself, he doubles over, head in his hands as he leans towards his legs. “God, I hate this.”
Frankie rushes to the light switch across the room, turning off all the lights inside; the only light available is what wanders in from the city outside through the windows.
There was one crucial detail Steve left out when he confided in Frankie about his ocular migraines: the pain is so intense, it works in tandem with his anxiety, triggering flashbacks of those miserable last few years in Hawkins.
They roll through so quickly in his mind; the first time he fought off a demogorgon with Nancy and Jonathan. When Steve became a personal punching bag for Billy nearly one year later, the same night he had been roped into fighting off demodogs with the kids, nearly dying multiple times before the sun rose again. The fucked up elevator in Starcourt that plummeted to an artificial hell that also nearly killed him and his friends. He could picture the fists flying at him, his honest answers for the countless times he was asked “who do you work for?” never enough for his captors.
“Stop, stop, stop—“
Frankie hears Steve whimpering while his flashbacks drag him deeper into the past.
Because who can just forget nearly dying far too many times with your friends before turning twenty? Why forget it when the past just continues to help you survive even further carnage?
His lungs burn while he recalls swimming down to the bottom of the lake, in search of the gate, only to be pulled back down after resurfacing to his friends. It’s not easy to erase the way he fought for his life once dragged into the Upside Down, especially not when the scars refuse to fade, continuing to keep the nightmare alive. Even if his scars blended into his worn, tired skin now, the proof lies in each and every person in the group. Hell, the proof is in anyone from Hawkins.
“Steve—“ Frankie’s voice breaks through to him, only for a moment, too quick to pull him out of this traumatic loop of memories.
Vecna. Stumbling upon Eddie, nearly dead, in Dustin’s arms. The “earthquake”. Max deep in a coma in the hospital. Watching the Upside Down bleed into reality on this plane of existence. The ultimate downfall of what was once his hometown— once a haven of memories, good and bad, ones that taught him life lessons, ones that he still reminisces on to this day. Leaving behind everything he loved in that shitty little town. Goodbyes with everyone as they all split their separate ways, with hopes and dreams of making the most of a new life somewhere safe.
Hawkins, Indiana was wiped off the map. Wiped from existence to keep the rest of the world safe.
Hawkins was only a memory, now.
Hawkins was gone.
“Hi, y- yeah, we need an ambulance, my friend, h- he—“
Everyone made it out alive, but what was the point when everyone was hurting badly, one way or another?
What’s the point in surviving if you continue to live in your own personal hell? He thinks, barely making out Frankie reciting the address for the record store. He blindly reaches out for her, still folded over in agony.
Instead of finding her, he finds himself slipping off the chair, hitting the cold, hard floor before abruptly losing his grip on reality.
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The first thing Steve sees when his eyes weakly flutter open is Frankie. Everything is blurry, but not like before; his vision slowly comes into focus, while the edges of tunnel vision have faded away. A dim, frail smile appears on his face at her sleeping figure, curled up next to him.
Pressure in his head spreads, like there’s an ache about to begin, but it never does, held at bay. That’s when he notices the IV in his arm, prying his eyes open a little more, baffled and trying to sift through the brain fog.
Frankie stirs, eyes squinting open, but once she sees Steve’s awake, her eyes widen; she sits up too quickly, stumbling out of the chair she folded herself into, catching herself at the last minute.
“Steve—“
“Hi Frankie,” He smiles, dopey and sleepy, like he just woke up from a nap, and not a medical scare. She grabs his hand, and he blushes. Looking down at their hands clasped together, a dazed look covers his features. “Your hand’s not very cold. You okay?”
A laugh slips out of Frankie, “I think all the panic made me overheated.” Her bottom lip wobbles, despite Steve’s lips still curved up lazily, “You’re the one in the hospital bed, I should be asking you that.”
“M’fine, I feel great, actually.”
“That would be the drugs doing their job, buddy.” She’s surprised to hear herself giggle, but it rises a weak yet genuine laugh out of Steve. Her thumb softly swipes back and forth on his hand, still in hers. “You scared the hell outta me, Steve.”
His face drops, beginning to realize the severity of the situation, despite gaps of memory to recall on. “I… don’t remember anything.”
“Do you want me to tell you?”
He wordlessly nods.
“Your head hurt all day, but you didn’t tell me until a migraine started,” Frankie sighs, gently pushing his sweat-matted hair away from his eyes. “I think it was an ocular migraine, ‘cause you told me you couldn’t— well, in your exact words, you said “Frankie, I can’t see shit out of this eye”, and then it— you—”
It all floods back to Steve in a flash— his headache that rolled into a sudden, ocular migraine, making him dizzy and weak. How his right eye went blind, then everything hurt, sent him into a panic, and triggered the flashbacks.
“You fell, too, but thankfully you landed on my bag instead of the floor.” She reaches down to his forehead, just above his brow, gently sweeping a thumb across his skin. “There’s a small bruise, but could’ve been worse.”
That, he ignores. Instead, Steve’s heart drops at the thought of what Frankie might’ve heard or seen. Before he can ask, she gathers the courage to tell him.
“You we’re crying, saying ‘I wanna go home’ a- and ‘stop, stop, stop,’” Her fingers grip his hand, shaking. He squeezes back, sobering up fast from the pain medication. “You kept calling out names, calling for Robin, and I- I don’t know who else, but you sounded so hurt, Steve.”
Steve doesn’t even realize he’s crying until Frankie whispers, “oh” and grabs a handful of tissues from the side table, handing them over to him.
“I— goddammit. I’m so sorry, Frankie.”
“It’s okay—“
He shakes his head, eyes falling shut; he can’t look at her right now, he feels nothing but shame.
“It’s not. It never will be. I wasn’t trying to hide anything or lie, but I- I- I—“ In the midst of his panic, he remembers the plans they had with Robin. His bloodshot eyes lock with Frankie’s teary ones. “Shit, does Robin know—“
“She’s on her way. Thankfully she stopped by instead of meeting us at the diner, right when the ambulance came. I asked if Robin wanted to go with you, but she asked if I could instead; she wanted to grab your meds and a few other things.” Frankie reassures him, but Steve can’t shake the guilt, can’t escape the embarrassment. “Robin’s really a great best friend.”
Steve rubs his eyes, nodding as his voice wavers, “Best friend I ever had. I- I’d be dead without her.”
“Give yourself some credit, man.” A familiar voice floats into the room; Frankie and Steve both look across the hospital room to find Robin, along with Eddie and Dustin trailing in behind her.
“It’s definitely that charming stubbornness to survive y’got going on,” Robin teases lightheartedly.
Frankie looks back at Steve, finding his face about to light up, but he just falls apart again. She releases his hand so Robin can hug him. Steve shakes in her grasp, while Robin murmurs “you’re okay, you’re safe”, soft enough for only Steve to hear; Frankie’s still able to catch it, though.
“Wh— what are you two doing here?”
“You picked the best time to go to the ER,” Dustin grins, trying to point out the bright side. “We were gonna surprise you at the diner, but now we get to surprise you here!” Steve’s smile wavers; he wants to be happy to see his friends again, but the sudden visit and multiple voices, louder than Frankie, makes him wince, too.
Still, he finds himself asking, “Dustin, why are you excited about that?”
“‘Cause, hospitals suck. Unless Eddie and I are in ‘em.” Dustin looks over at Frankie with a questioning, yet friendly look. “Who— oh. Are you Frankie?”
Her cheeks turn rosy while Steve groans, head falling back on the pillow.
Trying to redirect, Eddie teases, “The kid tells no lies, we’re the best free entertainment a hospital can get.” He’s shooting Steve a knowing look that earns a short-lived laugh out of him.
Now Steve knows how Max felt when she woke from her coma, when Eddie was finally stable enough to leave his room next to hers. How him and Dustin did everything they could, said whatever they could say, to crack a smile on her face.
It’s the thought that counts, he thinks, grateful to have friends who care. Steve always felt like everyone would forget him when they all left Hawkins behind. After all, he was usually the one looking out for everyone else. Putting them first. Making sure everyone was safe and sound before himself.
How relieved he was to be wrong, for once.
“How you holding up?” Dustin asks,
“Uh… I…”
All of this is overwhelming; Steve’s still trying to process what happened, was in the middle of Frankie retelling details, and now he’s on an emotional rollercoaster from a surprise visit from two friends he hadn’t seen in god knows how long.
On top of all of that, his head is one loud, startling noise or bright light away from kicking off another migraine.
Robin can tell he’s a step away from falling apart, so she jumps in to give him some breathing room. “I think… we should get snacks from the vending machine. Do either of you want anything?” Frankie shakes her head, and Steve only shrugs without an answer. “We’ll be back, ‘kay?” She backs up, gently pushing the two curly heads out of the room despite their protests; the room falls silent once again.
Steve sighs loudly, eyes shutting as he relaxes into the bed. “I love them, but I— it’s just—“
“Bad timing, I get it. There’s nothing wrong with asking for space.” Frankie assures him, then adds, “I should’ve asked too, do you need me to leave?”
“Don’t,” Steve’s cursing himself inwardly for answering so quickly. “Un- unless you wanna leave—“
“I wanna stay,” She answers at an embarrassing speed, making Steve smile. “I— I can stay overnight, if you want. But don’t feel obligated to say yes.”
“They’ll let you do that?”
“Usually, no, but I know the nurse on shift tonight, and she’s incredibly sweet. Told me already I can stay if I need to.” Frankie smirks. “One, tiny upside of being a hospital regular. Honestly, everyone’s nice here, at least who I’ve met.” She stops herself from rambling, glancing at Steve with concern. “You need anything right now?”
Steve murmurs, “No, just cold,” and releases her hand to pull the covers over himself, shivering. As he does, Frankie catches the scar around his neck while the flimsy hospital gown shifts along with him, exposing a sliver more of him than she’s seen.
He notices her stare, hand flying to his neck in a pathetic attempt to cover it; he’s quick to stammer out an excuse, “Oh that’s, uh, from— it’s actually a long story, but it’s not— it’s—“
Frankie shakes her head, reaching for Steve’s hand to squeeze softly. “You don’t have to tell me anything, not unless you’re ready and want to. Whatever your story is, Steve, it’s for you to tell on your own terms.”
Again, she watches him relax from a tensed state.
“Thank you, ‘Key.”
She smirks, “Y’know, I only let people I’m close to call me that.”
“Oh- oh, shit, I’m—“ He sits up, about to stammer out an apology, but her free hand gently stops him before pushing him back down slowly.
“That includes you.”
“Really?”
“Just one condition.”
“What is it?”
“You tell me if you’re in pain. I know that’s nearly all the time, but if you can’t come in, or can’t hang out, you tell me. Hell, if you need, you can call me if you’re home alone and just need to talk about it.” She softly demands and suggests. Steve nods; it’s only fair, especially after tonight’s scare. “Or even if you still come to work or want to keep plans, don’t be afraid to ask for what you need. I’d rather you take care of yourself than push your body past its limits.”
Steve’s mind races around for the right words to return to her, but all he can respond with is a sincere, “Thank you, Frankie.” Then he adds quickly, “All of what you just said, that applies to you too. Got it?” He tries coming off stern, playfully, of course; instead, his lips crack into a smile, but the sentiment is still true.
“Got it, Stevie,” She tries winking, but it looks more like a twitch, and the two burst into giggles. “You make it look so easy whenever you wink!”
Steve just shoots her a smooth, quick wink. In return, he gets her playful eye roll. He finds comfort and safety in the harmless teasing between one another.
Things might’ve gone to hell tonight, but at least Steve didn’t go through it alone.
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When everyone returned to the hospital room, they made sure to keep their tones quiet, soft, and Steve felt some guilt over that, but he reminded himself too that he’s lucky to have friends who accommodate his needs.
He catches Robin, Dustin, and Eddie up to speed, leaving out the gory, telling details of his flashbacks; Robin must’ve warned Dustin and Eddie to not speak about the Upside Down, for Frankie’s sake. And really, for Steve’s sake, too. After his mind ran through every event, every memory, down to the very last detail, he was exhausted. The last thing he wanted to think or talk about was Hawkins, and all the horrors it once contained.
And once proper introductions were made, Steve admired the way Dustin and Eddie automatically included Frankie into every part of the conversation, making sure she felt welcomed among them, too.
Steve needed this. He needed the distraction, needed the laughter, the inside jokes, with stories explained to Frankie to keep her in the loop. The longer the visit went on, though, the more Steve realized at some point, he’d have to explain everything to Frankie. She told him to take his time, that he wouldn’t ever need to talk about it if he wasn’t ready, but he’d rather get it out in the open sooner rather than later.
This friendship was something Steve never had with anyone else before, and he was quickly growing attached to the dynamic. He never expected to grow attached to Frankie so fast, either. Or at all.
Visiting hours end, with Dustin hugging Steve a little too tight, apologetic as he loosens his arms when Steve grumbles in pain. Dustin narrows his eyes at Steve, repeating a sentiment from the time they were stuck in the elevator in Starcourt. “If you die, I die. So don’t die.”
“Oh, we changed that one up a bit? Alright,” Robin snorts, and Dustin flips her off.
Meanwhile, Steve only shrugs. “Okay.”
“Some things never change,” Robin mutters, shaking her head.
The older two out of the trio say their goodbyes, too, with Eddie reminding in a sing-song voice, “Gonna bother you again tomorrow, Big Boy.”
“Please, for the love of—“ Steve sighs, sinking under the covers, embarrassed. “Stop calling me that.” Frankie’s lost, but still giggling over the exchanges; he points at her, “No, don’t— do not encourage his nonsense”
“Respectfully, no, I’ll never stop.” He grins while Robin shoves him out of the room. As he’s nearly out the door, he waves and shouts, “Nice meeting you, Frankie!”
Alone, yet again, Frankie bites her lip to contain her laughter, and Steve narrows a glare at her. “Oh, I can already tell you’re gonna be trouble with them.”
“Listen, it’s not my fault your friends are funny and charming.”
“They’re anything but—“
“Oh, I’m telling ‘em tomorrow you said that.”
“Where’s your proof, Amato?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know, Harrington.” She sticks her tongue out at him.
Laughing, his brows knit together, “I would!”
He tries to conjure a better comeback to throw her way, but his thoughts fizzle out while watching her set up the chairs into a makeshift bed.
“Frankie.”
She spins around, watching Steve lean up on his elbow. “Huh?”
“You’re not sleeping on those chairs. That’s gonna kill your neck. And your back.” Steve deadpans, pulling his glasses off to set them on the nightstand. “And every other joint in your body.”
Frankie snorts, holding her arms out, “Then where am I sleeping, Steve?”
“Up here,” He’s even surprised by his own boldness, but carries through. “With me.”
If one could hold someone’s gaze in a death grip, Frankie would be doing that right now with Steve’s stare; disbelief and skepticism floods through her thoughts.
“Unless that’s too— if you’re not comfortable—“
“Steve,” Frankie pushes past the way her round cheeks flush red, “We gotta stop second guessing ourselves like this.”
“Yeah, but I just don’t want to assume—“
“When you’re close with someone, assumptions are kind of a given. When someone gets you, it’s not offensive.” She holds the extra pillow a nurse gave her earlier to her chest. “I’m okay with it, if you are. And I’m going to assume you are, because you asked—“
“Demanded—“
Her mouth falls open at his bluntness, “Okay, Big Boy, slow down—“
“Francesca,” He groans, falling back onto the pillows, “please do not call me that.”
She laughs softly, tugging the edges of Steve’s lips into a soft smile; he’s a goner. He knows he is. He’s known for awhile now, but her laugh, her smile, solidifies it.
“Okay, Steven.”
Waving his arm out towards the uncomfortable hospital bed, he sasses, “Will you shut the hell up and get up here?”
“Didn’t know you were so bossy in bed, Steve,” Frankie waggles her brows at Steve, and while he tries rolling his eyes, his face falls back into a deep shade of red she’s been so easily able to pull out of him these days.
“Christ, Amato, do you ever sh—“
“Shut it, man. I’m moving as fast as a cripple can,” She teases, rounding the bed to climb into the empty side. Kicking her boots off, she swings her legs into the bed. There’s just enough room for her, but only if she presses against Steve by just a touch. “If this is too close—“
“It’s not—“
“Okay, well—“
“‘Key?” Steve’s voice wavers, soft and unsure of himself, despite the habitual teasing. “Can you— shit, this is stupid—“
“Whatever it is, it’s not stupid.” She reassures blindly. “Ask me.”
Steve takes a deep breath, nerves seeping through the overly confident demeanor the drugs gave him. “Can you… can—“ He sighs, frustrated with himself, before blurting out, “Can you hold me?”
Frankie doesn’t answer, not verbally; already on her side, she winds her arms around Steve’s torso, hugging him lightly from behind.
“This okay? You’re comfortable?”
He just nods definitively.
“Steve… your gown is open.”
He panics, shooting up and throwing a hand behind himself to try closing the opening, until he feels Frankie shake against him with laughter.
“You’re such a— quit laughing!” Steve laughs as he tries demanding this of Frankie.
“M’sorry, it was just— the opportunity was there, I had to take it.”
He sighs, suppressing his grin, his chuckles, laying back down. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”
“Best place to have one though, no?” Frankie settles down, snuggling closer to him; her position is certain, yet leaves room for Steve to distance himself if he wants.
He doesn’t answer with words, just tugs her arms closer around his body, her hands to his chest.
“Hey, Frankie?”
“Mhm?”
“Thank you. I know those migraines aren’t exactly life threatening, but…” He trails off, closing his eyes before admitting the truth, “They make it so… so hard to want to be alive. I’m grateful for your help. I’m sorry you had to witness that, but I— you—“ Oh, fuck it. “I didn’t expect to become so attached to our friendship, to you. But… I’m one lucky, unlucky son of a bitch to have someone in my life like you.”
Frankie feels her tears well her eyes; her and Steve are both so easily emotional— it comes with the territory of being sick on a regular basis. Who wouldn’t be? Realistically, how can you expect someone in the depths of internal and external pain to navigate this life with ease?
Neither of them are cured from the security of this friendship, but it’s reassuring to both that neither are alone in this fight against the bodies they pilot, day in, day out. No definite future for either separately, but at least they can navigate it together.
Frankie’s almost sure Steve’s asleep, so she speaks up to make sure.
“Steve?”
“Yeah?”
She sighs, pushing her sentiment into words, solidifying the security of their friendship, at the very least.
“Whatever hell you lived through,” Her voice wavers while on the precipice of sleep, barely heard under the heart monitor’s routine beeps. “I’m glad you survived.”
He’s half asleep, heart monitor rolling to a steady crawl “M’glad I survived, too.”
#Steve Harrington x fem!oc#Steve Harrington x oc#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#my fics#accident prone
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News reporter AU
Okay, so... what if Sun and Moon, but as weather-/newscasters? And Y/N as their cameraman?
Description of the AU follows after the sketches.
Sun and Moon working as newscasters and weather announcers for the TV station Fazebear Entertainment.
And Y/N is a cameraman.
Sun and Moon have separate bodies in this AU.
Sun mainly announces mainly positive news that happened in the world.
Or just things like:
The date for celebrity A and singer B's wedding is now set.
The big garden show is taking place in city Y.
A new world record has been set for the fastest run through the obstacles of the world's largest bouncy castle.
A huge shower of shooting stars can be seen in the sky of region H at night.
Sun also loves to throw in little puns when he makes the weather announcements.
Sun generally has a cheerful and lively personality and gesticulates a lot when speaking.
Moon, on the other hand, looks like he's done with the world and his work the whole time he's on camera. The way he talks during his announcements is usually a mixture of grumpy and annoyed. As if he would rather be anywhere else than here in front of the camera.
He also moves as little as necessary and usually just seems exhausted.
In contrast to Sun, Moon addresses more serious topics. Changes in the law, election results, etc.
However, just like Sun, he also makes weather announcements. When making announcements about extreme weather conditions, he sometimes makes a few side-swipes about how there were a few less idiots in the world when the curious gawkers running to the harbor despite the extreme winds would get swept away by a wave.
As a cameraman, Y/N is always trying to film Sun and Moon in the best possible way. That's why you like to adjust the angle of the camera a little when filming and make sure that the focus is always on point.
You're a big fan of their work, even though they've barely acknowledged your existence and you haven't tried anything to change that.
Although Sun and Moon usually only work in the studio, one day the management comes up with the idea of sending the two of them together with you to a zoo in a distant city for a report so that you can take footage of the tiger cubs that were born there a few weeks ago.
Sun is supposed to take over the moderation and Moon is to come along as a backup.
You, on the other hand, take on the role of driver and are given the necessary equipment in the form of a portable camera and a moderator microphone for Sun.
It seems to be the chance to perhaps have a conversation with Sun and Moon for the first time. However, at the start you are far too nervous to try and talk to them properly and everything that leaves your mouth feels a little stiff and awkward. Sun and Moon keep to themselves at the beginning of the trip and don't try to include you in their private conversations either, which makes you feel a bit like a third wheel and somehow out of place.
The longest exchanges between the three of you are about the details and schedules of the trip and the upcoming shoot.
But then Sun starts to engage you more in casual conversations and ask you about all sorts of things, such as your favorite color, what movies you like or what music you listen to, etc.
Soon you find yourself not only talking to Sun more and more often, but also to Moon.
At the zoo, you proceed as discussed and Sun takes over the moderation in front of the tigers' outdoor enclosure.
Since you still have time after your shoot, Sun suggests that you all could use the time to see the rest of the zoo together.
Moon even helps you carry the equipment voluntarily and despite your protests that he doesn't need to help you.
Meanwhile, Sun scurries ahead like an excited child and you let yourself be carried away by his enthusiasm.
Although Moon usually looks so grumpy, even he seems to be quite amused by your and Sun's cheerfulness.
At the petting zoo, you also notice how long Moon looks at the sheep, so you buy some of the food from the dispenser there and ask Moon if he'd like to feed them with you.
Moon hesitates a little, but then agrees. As soon as the two of you enter the enclosure, the otherwise grumpy newscaster is completely smitten by the woolly animals and you learn from him that sheep are his favorite animals.
Before leaving the zoo, you stop by the souvenir store, where you notice a sheep plush toy with white wool and a black snout. You end up buying this together with a tiger plush toy because Sun was barely able to get away from the enclosure with the two little tigers after the filming.
You plan to give the two plush toys to Sun and Moon later.
What you don't know is that the two of them had the same idea and also bought you a little something from the zoo store.
At the car, you give them their presents and Sun is thrilled and beaming all over his face because of your great gift! Moon's reaction may seem more restrained next to Sun's, but the way how affectionately and carefully he holds the sheep plush toy combined with the little smile on his face says more than enough.
The two of them exchange a sly glance with each other and then present you with their gifts as well.
Sun also gives you a plush toy of your favorite zoo animal, while Moon gives you a cute pin of a tiger, which you attach to your cap.
The trip back is much more enjoyable this time and there is a pleasant atmosphere between you all.
However, when you finally arrive back and say goodbye to each other, you have a sinking feeling that everything might be back to normal tomorrow between you and the two newscasters when you return to work at the TV station.
So you don't get your hopes up too much when you start work again the next day.
And in fact, everything seems to be as it was before your time together.
At least until the lunch break comes, which you actually would spend alone as usual.
But before you can leave the studio, Sun and Moon come up to you and invite you to the café opposite the station.
You can hardly believe your luck that they still want to hang out with you, even though they no longer have to!
Sun and Moon, on the other hand, were so charmed by you during your trip together that they really want to get to know you better.
What else could have happened in this AU?
I could imagine that there might have been an overnight stay included on the journey to your destination. But because there was a mistake with the booking (the management booked a room in a completely different motel that wasn't on the way) you had to sleep in the car. Well, more you than Sun or Moon.
So you slept in the back seat while Sun secretly snatched your camera to film you sleeping and making comments like in a documentary while whispering his words to not wake you up, while Moon tried to scold Sun not to play around with the camera equipment.
You only found the recording after the end of your trip together. It was an embarrassing but also somewhat amusing moment for you.
I could also imagine a scenario that takes place later and Y/N has to move out of his apartment at short notice for certain reasons without already having a new place to stay.
When Sun and Moon find out about this, they immediately offer to let you stay with them temporarily as their apartment has plenty of space and they have an unused guest room anyway.
At first you don't want to accept the offer so as not to be a burden, but in the end they convince you until you agree.
From then on, you live with them and basically become their new roommate.
Of course, you are still looking for a new apartment alongside your work and your new everyday life with them.
When the day comes that you have found something and tell them about it, Sun and Moon have already grown so fond of you that they ask you if you would like to stay with them permanently.
Random facts about the time after the zoo visit
After Sun has fallen for you, he has started to wink at you sometimes when he says goodbye to the viewers, which you didn't really understand the first few times and thought this was his new thing.
It takes a while and a not so subtle remark from Moon telling Sun to stop flirting with you in front of the camera for you to finally understand.
Both your faces flushed pretty badly and there was a lot of stuttering going on.
Sun and Moon are both in a much better mood when you're behind the camera than when it's someone else from the staff.
Sometimes Moon even throws you a small, friendly smile during his annoucements.
Both Sun and Moon are popular with viewers. But since Sun's little habit of winking at the camera or the little smiles that sometimes escape Moon, their popularity has risen even more.
Will there be more to come on this AU?
No, probably not :')
It's more of a silly little idea that I just wanted to share.
Also said pin looking like this:
Yeah, so that's probably all what you guys get from me for this au.:')
#fnaf#fnaf au#newscaster au#fnaf sun#fnaf moon#fnaf y/n#dca#fnaf dca#daycare attendant#fnaf daycare attendant#sun x y/n#moon x y/n#dca x y/n#traditional drawing#sketches#my art#do not reupload#translated it with DeepL#Moon most of the time tired and so done with the job#Sun has a whole collection of bowties.#Sun also buys on a regular basis ties for Moon. Most of them are unused because of them having patterns that Moon finds to silly to wear.#they both become really attached over time
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I'm a little shy! But I would like to express my amazement and admiration! A while ago I found your Shadow Chase art, I loved it and became a fan, you create very funny stories and your art is beautiful, but that's not the point, I started following you because of that, but then I realized that you have many others projects and You are also very busy with your personal life. My question is how is everything organized and planned to advance a project despite academic/work responsibilities? I've seen that you even have collaborations with others and I keep thinking "this person is great."
As a final note, I just want to leave my good wishes and hope you have a nice week. <3
Gosh, so many compliments in one ask, I‘m still a little loss for words. Thank you so much for reading my work and looking into my other projects, collabs and art! I hope you‘ve been enjoying them. ❤️
I think there is no denying that I need to organize myself a little bit to make everything work. I think I‘ve always used drawing, especially drawing comics, as a way to breathe and when I started uni I promised myself I would continue drawing somehow. The first semester was hell, but I finished all the way. 💪 And I had the same mindset for working, so when I started this year I was very motivated to draw. Lol I think it also helped that I had several different projects to work on so when I wasn’t in the mood for black and white I would move to something colorful. Comics also offer the possibility to work on different parts. Do I want to work on the story, on the storyboards, on the actual drawings or just editing…? A lot of options. And this is something which I heard on a video on AI but artist and creative people in general don‘t create in other to have more content but to get something out of their head and feel the satisfaction of creating a certain idea and I felt that very much. And then there is the joy of collabs and while there were unfortunately more failed attempts at collabs I’m very glad for those which eventually resulted in great projects. ❤️ I might have to take actual breaks from drawing when I get back to my thesis. I finished all the work but need to write the discussion part and wow, how much I don‘t wanna work on that.
Currently I use my time on commutes for drawings digitally or making storyboards. In the evening I finish private stuff and when time is left I work on traditional art. Shadow Chase is the only project where I try to have an overview on how many pages I have done and want to finish before the next upload. Other works can usually go up once finished. When I create something for fan projects like zines, bigbangs, etc. I usually just try to finish said project right away. I don‘t like procrastinating (except my thesis I guess) and rather have stuff than can be finished done right away and focus on my other projects again. Shades of Tourmaline was definitely my biggest collab project yet and with the amount of art planned it took like 3 years to finish because that was something I couldn‘t get done right away. 😂 fortunately clef was very patient with me (and kept me distracted with new collabs, oops).
The short answer would be I try to draw as much as possible because it is just a lot of fun with the additional bonus of entertaining a few people. ❤️
#I hope I don‘t sound smart or anything#But drawing is honestly just a lot of fun#And working on ideas in general#Getting them out#That‘s the life#And sometimes I just get to talk to really cool people because of that too 😎#Thank you again for looking into my work 💕
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Hi! Sorry if you've already said and I've missed it, but do you do commissions? And if so, do you draw only game's characters or people's Tavs/Surges too?
And unrelated, what inspired your Durge character? She's a great blend of cute and mental!
I love your style and storytelling so much, it's so unique and real!
Hi there!
I do any kind of Commission, so always feel free to DM me and we can discuss everything!
Thank you very much for your kind words, I'm glad you've been enjoying it!
I think the monkDurge character came about because I wanted to try out a new class, which happened to be a monk. Surprisingly, I found myself enjoying the roleplay aspect immensely.
I'm a big fan of contrasts; they help to emphasize opposites even better. For example, if something is inherently 'evil,' I like to portray it as cute and 'good,' blurring the lines between the two, but also make the characteristics stand out a lot more.
While both monks and paladins represent goodness, I perceive monks as wiser characters, despite their shared desire to always know better, haha. I thought it could be interesting to create a character who strives to distance themselves from dark thoughts - particularly those associated with weapons designed to kill. Instead, their weapons are their own hands, which can lead to very different outcomes depending on the situation.
So yea, Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed the roleplay experience and thought, 'I want to draw about a monk!'
Thank you again!
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About the subject of avoiding Triggers (cw. self-harm)
What im about to say might sound a bit silly but I wanted to mention it anyways since I feel like this never ever comes up when people discuss Triggers;,
So...
I used to be a very bitter and unhappy person, my bitterness eventually got so bad that just seeing people being happy triggered me sm that it made me self-harm. I'm luckily over all of this now and doing much better but um... I'm guessing what I'm trying to say is that the trigger debate is a bit more nuanced than people might realize?
People always assume that getting rid of everything "bad/immoral/non desired" would help others feel more comfortable online/fandoms and that no one would ever get triggered again but I kinda doubt that. Triggers are so much more complicated and very dependent on the person. Something that triggers someone might give someone else comfort and make them make seen;, something that gives someone else comfort might trigger another person and so on.
The only thing anyone can do is to look out for themselves, know their triggers and know how to avoid them. Block people if it helps but please don't try to control what others post or not.
Like seriously... I used to have such weird Triggers and It would have been so so sooo silly and shitty of me if I had asked the people around me and online not to be outwardly happy because it triggered me.
(Sorry if I was rambling too much, the point kinda got lost but I hope you understand what I meant)
I hope you dont mind me just sharing because…. yeah this, exactly🙂↕️ I still have INSANELY weird and specific triggers as well and honestly? sometimes I will randomly see something that fits the description and it might even ruin my day (even with blocking everything I can) to be quite honest and transparent here but never in my life would I imagine to go and blame or even hate whoever posted that because it‘s…. it‘s me. It‘s a personal thing, no one else is responsible for that
#blakemail#the only exception to this is obviously you know. things that are clearly posted to be triggering to someone#things posted in communities with the goal to very clearly fuck people up
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What it’s like being best friends with Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski in season one and two
In season one it’s really just the three of you together, always. I like to think that in most situations it would be you and Stiles ganging up against Scott together.
Weekly hangouts at Scotts place. Melissa would definitely be like a mother to both you and Stiles. Similarly, I’d say Stiles’ dad would be like a father to you. It doesn’t matter if you already have parents, good or bad. They’d still always be there for you.
Gossip sessions during lunch. I know Stiles hears everything, there is no way he wouldn’t know all the juicy stuff going on at school.
Supporting Stiles’ crush on Lydia…Poor guy needs all the help he can get with it. And obviously helping Scott the same way once he meets Allison.
When Scott gets bitten everything does change for your small group. Scott changes, physically and mentally. New people start joining you guys at lunch. Its not just the three of you anymore. I think it might wear you out a bit… All the dynamics suddenly changing.
It would be Stiles who notices first, making sure you know they still love you. Promising to always be your best friends. He’d probably end up telling Scott who then drags you into the group more. Introducing you again, trying to let everyone know more about you.
During season two you’re much closer to all the others as well. Maybe you even end up hanging out with Allison and Lydia every week as well?
When Derek starts turning more teenagers Scott would definitely threaten Derek to stay away from you. He already knows Stiles doesn’t want to be bitten, but maybe he would see you as a possible target.
They get so protective when Isaac comes back to school. They’ll keep you away from the two new wolves, doing their best not to leave your side.
And don’t even mention how protective they are about the whole kanima situation. Yes, they know you can handle yourself, but this is a snake like monster with venom in its claws. They are not leaving you, end of discussion.
Personally, I would still try to befriend Isaac, Erica, and Boyd. I’ve always felt bad for them. Scott would try to dissuade you; he’d think it’s too dangerous. But I think Stiles wouldn’t mind too much, though he still wouldn’t want you to be alone with them.
When all that is over and everyone is once again friendly with each other, you would finally become great friends with the three new werewolves.
Overall being friends with Scott and Stiles is kind of a mess… But it’s so worth it. They love you so much and they couldn’t live without you.
Maybe you’d help them stay closer than they end up being in the show.
If you end up dating another werewolf Scott would probably sit you down and have a talk about all the dangers that come with it.
Stiles on the other side has no problem with it at all. If Scott can date Allison, why can’t you date a werewolf? Go you!
And if you end up dating a more…regular person. They would be so happy for you! Though Stiles would make you promise that he is still your number one. Don’t tell Scott.
I don’t think you’d end up getting turned into a werewolf unless you really want to be and get Derek to turn you. Scott would do his best to keep you and Stiles safe and human. But if you really want to become a werewolf, especially for medical reasons, he’ll still support you. At least he’ll know how to help you now.
#teen wolf#teen wolf x reader#isaac lahey#scott mccall x reader#stiles stilinski x reader#lydia martin#allison argent#derek hale#platonic teen wolf#platonic scott mccall#platonic stiles stilinski
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~
#maybe its cause im in 10 yr long friendships and relationships that i cant understand small stuff being like a big deal#ive done worse my friend and partners know about me in and out#? deal breakers arent real#what is real is communication and love and open mindedness with the people you care about#they will not be perfect they will not grow up immediately#if you are going into a relationship wanting to make every inch of it work#you will discuss everything you will try to help everything#but if youre not ready for it then dont expect perfection#cause nobody is perfect my friends#yes i saw a post abt people being weird about something#lol nobody knows what actual weird shit is#or maybe its just the effort they dont want to put up with with 'the person theyre deeply in love with'#if youre in love. youll figure out how to deal with it. its not perfect. its ugly and workable#and maybe a little strange but thats okay because you love them right?#dont talk to me unless youve put the hard work into loving someone... some folk just dont get it#i dont care but i do care
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adding to my tags because i’ve been thinkin a lot about the post i just reblogged and have more thoughts:
i’ll be real, the more i saw ‘hey adhd influencers are so annoying’ the more i worried that i was unconsciously contributing to the spreading reputation of adhd folks as annoying and over-pathologizing every symptom they experience
and then i realized. i am not a goddam influencer or life coach or representative. obviously i have some obligation as someone who cares about myself and the people that like my comics to not spread harmful ideology or blatant misinformation but i never intended myself to be a “’increase your productivity!!’ blog OR a ‘if you have XYZ you have adhd!’ blog. and i do this for fun, and originally started this blog bc i had a lot of internalized shame and self loathing about my adhd and thought if i could make it funny i might have less of that. let’s get real! and it worked!
i’ve obviously done this kind of thing— (hey these symptoms might be adhd!) a lot before in my life & on this blog, but there’s more to it than trying to be an “influencer” or whatever. a term that didn’t even exist when i started this blog!
i felt very isolated trying to find out if i had any mental problems & what have you originally because of large advice (etc) blogs with staunchly anti self Dx views at the time
so i overcorrected when i DID get dxed and tried to validate everyone who was like me. and of course. not the best course of action always for the ol mental health. tried to be the source of positivity and jokes that i didn’t see because the online adhd presence was near non-existent.
and anyway. i make a lot of fun of myself & the way m brain works in my comics obviously but it is not my obligation to... how do you say.... not be annoying online.
because if folks interpret MY little jokes as a strict guide to diagnosis. that’s on them, really, not me. i also believe “making adhd your entire personality” is a non-issue. so what if people find out they have it and get over excited with identifying as adhd. saying this as someone who DID do it. criticism of this gives the same vibes as people being annoyed that young queers make “being queer” their whole personality. im very obviously more than a guy with adhd, and id reckon other adhd comic artists are too. (im friends with a lot of them!) it’s fine to post about it online.
anyway. i just don’t take myself too seriously and i’m a comic artist for myself first! and you know what, i’ve been considered annoying my entire life. what do i care if a few more folks think i’m annoying. neurotypical or not
#i think the article did have some good points especially on the capitalism and marketing angle but i oft think it did venture into#being mad at individual folks who post jokes about adhd. which is literally fine thats what an opinion piece is for lol#i am just very tired of people pretending that a lot of reaction to online adhders is not in itself just an extension of the ableism#we already were facing#'adhd people are so annoying everyone does this youre pathologizing everything' ok and how exactly are you helping.#i hesitate to throw my hat in with hating on adhd tiktok because i am simply not on tiktok and have no way to back up my thoughts#that they may be annoying and oversimplifying a complex disorder on the 'drains your attention span' website.#and i think perhaps the value of each adhd resource varies widely depending on who made it and what theyre even posting.#sometimes its a joke made by a person with adhd. sometimes its sourced and cited research. sometimes its someone discussing their personal#experiences in depth. sometimes its someone talking completely out of their ass. sometimes its THINLY veiled ableism.#its up to the individual to research and determine the value of the memes and resources you seek#anyway. perhaps these points are tough to clarify on sites like insta and twitter. bless.#text#adhd#im punk now#oh and yeah i also agree lots of folks do not talk about the unsavory parts of adhd but rather the funnies and the sillies. but that is#once again a larger capitalism and marketing and ableism problem#r we not talking about them because we are actively trying to infantalize this disorder or is it because we collectively experience a lot#of internalized ableism and hesitate to talk about our worst symptoms for fear of the backlash#weve always gotten about them 🤔🤔🤔#much to consider#if youve read this far sorry for tangent number 56 about this. but also start being more unapologetic about your disorders. fuck it!#<3
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Regarding the whole "Fandom Is An Escape, so why should I have to care this much about misogyny/racism/ableism/transphobia/etc." thing. Idk about the rest of you, but it gets kind of hard for me to "escape" when I keep seeing people say the same vile things about characters who share aspects of my identity that I hear all the time in real life.
#gotta say: it doesn't make me feel any better getting ignored/disparaged on account of my gender irl and then seeing every fictional woman#also get ignored/disparaged when there is no material difference between her and popular male characters other than her gender#how do I escape from irl misogyny if y'all keep willfully ignoring and flinging gendered insults at 99% (<-lowball estimate) of#female characters? how do I put aside the ableism I face in real life when y'all discuss disabled/mentally ill characters in the most#absolutely out-of-pocket way? how do I forget about biphobia when the 'arguments' you make 'for fun' about bisexual characters#in fiction sound EXACTLY the same as the things people say about my bisexuality outside of the internet/fan culture?#and then obviously this gets compounded if you are trying to even simply EXIST in fandom as a poc or a trans person or an intersection of#any or all these varying identities/life experiences#like yes caring about fictional characters is not the same as caring about real people OBVIOUSLY I can't BELIEVE I have to keep clarifying#that. and at the same time!! because multiple things can be true at the same time!!!! engaging in behavior that enforces pre-ingrained#societal biases and prejudices!!!!!!!! does not help dismantle those biases and prejudices!!!!!!!!!!!!!! in a real-world way that DOES#involve caring about actual people!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#it's also. interesting. when people go on & on about how some newest show about thin cis white (male) gays is So Important & Revolutionary#So We Must Do Everything To Keep It Relevant And Visible and then act this way about women/poc/trans people/disabled people/fat people#in media. so like. you DO agree that seeing a variety of life experiences represented in fiction is beneficial. you DO believe in the#value of depicting marginalized people. interesting that that only seems to apply to a VERY narrow and specific category of marginalization#(ugh remember when I talked about this and someone called me a straight person good times)
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