#internalized and external; period-typical

[augustjustice]

you wanna feel how it feels (let's exchange the experience) 8/?

start here | Part 7 | AO3

Rating: E (overall; T for this section) | 5.4k for this part of the chapter

Tags: Bodyswap, Friends to Lovers, Slowburn, Getting to Know Each Other, Disabled Eddie Munson, Disabled Steve Harrington, Class Differences, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Bisexual Eddie Munson, Ableism, Jealousy

Summary: After the Spring Break from hell, Eddie and Steve become fast friends, with a possible hint towards something more…except they’re never quite sure what the other is actually thinking. But maybe, just maybe, walking a mile in each other’s shoes can lend them some much needed insight.

Notes: The boys debrief after meeting up with Nancy. Then, Eddie heads back to Harrington Manor for the night.

Continued conversations around ableism unfold here, and Steve definitely struggles with some negative self-talk.

“So…” Eddie elongated the syllable in his mouth, “you wanna talk about what happened, back there?”

Steve's hands adjusted around the steering wheel, suddenly white knuckling it, and the tenseness in his jaw was visible even in the low lighting. 

Despite the fact that they’d ended on a seeming high note–even if Nancy had shot them some odd looks, each time they cheered when “Steve” got a question right–after everything that went down at the study session, Eddie had been more than willing to let Steve win their prior argument and get back into the driver’s seat of his baby. 

…Once Nancy’s station wagon was well out of the parking lot, of course, red lights disappearing into the darkness. They ought to be safe, especially now that they had the cover of night to conceal them from any other prying eyes. 

So they were clipping right along back to the trailer park, Steve putting the pedal to the metal. His driving wasn’t anywhere near as wild and erratic as Eddie’s usually was, but it was still fast enough to suggest he definitely needed this after the day they’d had. 

Huffing out a breath, Steve gave a shrug, playing it casual despite the stiffness that lingered in his shoulders. “I mean, not really. What exactly is there to talk about?”

“I don’t know, dude. Shit just got…kinda intense, for a second.” Understatement of the century, but Eddie was doing his best to keep things light, especially when Steve already looked like this conversation was making him want to jump out of Eddie’s skin. “So…whaddya say you give it to me straight, Harrington–”

Steve snorted, cutting him off. “I thought I already made that totally clear, Eds. I can give it to you anyway but straight.”

“The man’s got jokes!” Eddie crowed, glad for the cover of night, dark enough to hide the flare on his cheeks at the innuendo. “But seriously, dude. What was up with you and Wheeler? She really didn’t know about your whole…reading thing?”

Steve sighed, long and dramatic, as he raked a hand up into Eddie’s curls. “I don’t get why it’s such a big deal. Everybody already knows I'm an idiot, man. A day with the kids should have taught you that. What would be the point of, like, getting into all the nitty gritty details?” 

“That! That’s part of the problem!” Eddie jabbed an accusing finger in Steve’s direction. “Jesus H. Christ, Stevie! Did you miss everything I said earlier? You're not an idiot, okay, dude? And I'm gonna keep saying it until it finally penetrates your stubborn, thick skull to that brilliant, beautiful brain of yours.” 

“You know, technically, you're the one with the thick skull now.” Master of deflection, Steve reached over and gently rapped at the side of Eddie's head.

“Well, what can I say? It suits me. Ask my uncle, I’m plenty stubborn too. Once I find a mystery that needs solving, I’m as bad as the Scooby Doo gang–can’t put it down until the case is closed. Like why exactly you never said anything before. To Wheeler, I mean.” 

Or me, he didn’t add. Worry still clawed at him, though, that Steve didn’t trust his friends enough to share certain parts of himself. 

Did he really think that Eddie of all people would have made fun of him? Because there was no way. 

Steve shook his head, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I don’t believe that for a second, dude. You’re such a total Shaggy.”

Eddie clutched a hand to his chest, offended. “Excuse me, good sir, I think you’ll find that you’re the Shaggy now. Got the hair for it and everything. I, on the other hand…am our fearsome and noble leader Fred.” Flipping down the sun visor, he took in Steve’s reflection in the dim light, making a show of adjusting the polo he was wearing. “Honestly, man, picture it. This preppy ass outfit of yours is practically begging for an ascot.” 

Steve gave him a light shove, not quite able to keep the laughter out of his voice. “I swear to god, Munson, if you put me in an ascot, I’m chopping off all your hair.”

“I’ll happily call that bluff, Stevie. I know you love me for my beautiful locks.” 

Since he couldn’t fluff his hair in a show of exaggerated vanity, as he normally would have, Eddie settled for giving a strand of it a teasing tug.

“Watch it, dude! You’re gonna damage it,” Steve complained, not exactly beating Eddie’s allegations that he cared. “And, you know, if you’d really let me get my hands on it, then what you just said might even be true.”

“You wound me, good sir. So what, in order to love it, you gotta give my hair the ole Farrah Fawcett treatment? Not sure how that’s gonna play in front of Corroded Coffin’s two whole fans. I’m going for something that’s a lot less Fabio and a lot more Eddie van Halen.”

“If you say so,” Steve said skeptically, pulling out a frizzy curl to give it a judgmental once over. 

“You are such an ass, man!” 

Steve only giggled, pleased with himself. 

The banter had settled something between them, as it always did. The atmosphere in the car was easy again, enough so Eddie took the risk and said, “Honestly, though…she seemed pretty cool with it.” 

He swallowed a little thickly, trying to tamp down on the feelings of jealousy that stirred at the memory. The way the air between Nancy and Steve had seemed to shrink, crackling with intensity, and the soft looks Steve kept shooting her after she’d apologized. Unfortunately, the image was basically seared into Eddie’s brain, now. 

At Steve’s puzzled look, he added, “Wheeler. When she found out about the…dyslexia.”

Eddie was careful with the pronunciation, the word foreign on his tongue. 

Steve let out a huff. “You’re really not gonna let this go, are you?”

“No way in hell, man. I’m like a dog with a bone.”

“Is it really such a crime that I didn't want my ex-girlfriend knowing just how much of a dumbass I really was?” Steve asked, exasperated. 

He hadn’t snapped, not exactly, but the harshness in his tone made Eddie flinch anyway. 

“‘Course it’s not,” he said hurriedly. “Sorry.”

The apology was weak, and Eddie knew that the uneasy silence that lapsed after it was his fault. He just wasn’t sure how to make up for it. 

But before he even got a chance to try, Steve murmured, so quiet he almost missed it, “‘You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.’” 

The words were like a slap to the face. Eddie had already known that he’d fight anyone, including Steve himself, who had the audacity to make that kind of comment, but even he was a little surprised at how instantly ready and raring to go he was.

“Shit, man, what did I just get done sa–”

“No, not–I wasn’t calling myself that, okay? It’s–Nancy used to say that. To me, back when we were together. It was like a fond thing? Like a joke, you know, between the two of us. I guess I just…didn’t want her to think that for real.” He added, in a low undertone, “Not anymore than she already did.”

“...Oh,” Eddie breathed in, fingers tapping a restless staccato on the passenger side door. “So…you never told her.”

“Nope,” Steve popped the ‘p.’ “Or anybody, really. After they found out, my dad really didn’t want me to talk about it. How would it look, right, to his business partners, to hear he had a complete moron for a son?” Steve laughed bitterly. “I mean, Tommy and Carol kind of knew, probably. And Robin, of course, cuz there’s nothing I can get past her. But…nobody else.”

“‘Cept for me and Wheeler, now,” Eddie amended, inclining his head. “Confidantes by necessity.” 

“Right,” Steve sucked in a breath, rubbing an anxious finger at his upper lip. “I really wasn’t trying to keep it from you, dude. I literally just…forgot.” 

“Nah, man, I know,” Eddie rushed to assure him, regretting that he’d needled him so hard. He hadn’t meant to make Steve feel guilty, since he had no reason to. 

Maybe a selfish part of him had wanted the assurance he hadn’t done anything wrong. But, more than anything, he’d just wanted Steve to open up. Eddie knew how bad he was about bottling shit up, if given half a chance. 

“No question. Plus, it’s not like you owe it to anybody, to tell them if you don’t want to.” 

“Yeah, but you’re the one having to put up with it, now. I’m sorry about that, too. You know, that you got saddled with my…” Steve made a helpless gesture at his head, “messed up brain.”

Eddie let out a pained noise. “Shit, Stevie, don’t do that. There’s nothing to apologize for, ya hear me?” he adopted his best no-nonsense tone, the one he’d learned from Wayne. “Besides, I should be saying the same thing to you. After all, you’re stuck with mine.” 

“Okay, well, but there’s nothing wrong with your–”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Eddie waggled a finger at him, cutting off his protests. “Third year senior, remember? I’ve long been said to have a few screws loose.” Though his tone was light, joking, he couldn’t help but murmur, more seriously, “Christ, trust me, it can be kind of a nightmare up there, sometimes. And that was before all the Upside Down related shit.”

“They were bullshit,” Steve said, the word carrying weight, conviction. At Eddie’s questioning look, he added, “Anybody who ever said there was something wrong with you. Total losers.” He spit the title, Steve harnessing all his high school mean girl energy as he often did now–in the name of good. 

“And so was your dad, big guy, and our shitty high school teachers, and whoever the fuck else made you feel that way. I meant what I said before. To Wheeler? I get what it’s like, man. But you’re the farthest thing from stupid. It’d actually almost be kind of funny, that people treated you that way, if it wasn’t so goddamn infuriating.”

Panting from how worked up he’d gotten from his impromptu speech, Eddie slapped his hands against the glove box once, twice. Not hard–he didn’t want to hurt Steve’s hands or his car–but just enough to get the pent up energy, the fury of it, out.

Lip caught between his teeth, Steve shot Eddie a quick glance. He braced for it–the reprimand, Steve to tell him off for being reckless, meet Eddie’s anger with some outrage of his own. 

But it didn’t come. 

Instead, he waved a hand back and forth between them. 

“This whole bizarro Freaky Friday thing. Sure, it’s been weird as shit, but…” Steve shrugged, clearing his throat before redirecting his gaze to the road, “at least it’s you. You know?”

Eddie blinked in confusion, feeling like he’d lost a step somewhere. 

“I’m, uh…gonna need you to elaborate on that one for me, Harrington.”

“I’m just saying, I don’t know if I could handle it, if this happened with anybody else.”

As touched as he felt at the sentiment, Eddie couldn’t help but scoff. “Get real, Stevie. You and Buck are so joined at the hip, I bet money you’d both just go merrily on like nothing had even happened.”

The Beemer came to a full stop, and Eddie realized, magically, they had somehow made it back to the trailer park in one piece. He hadn’t even noticed, too caught up in the conversation to register the familiar surroundings flashing by.  

Though Steve put the car in park, neither of them made a move to get out. 

Cocking his head, he hummed in clear contemplation. 

“Sure, okay. Robin, maybe. In theory, except I'm really not sure either one of us is prepared to have each other's…junk." Steve made a face at the thought. 

Eddie let out a short, amused bark of laughter. "We've got each other's junk right now, dude.”

"Well, yeah, okay, but at least we've both still got…dicks, you know?" 

"Oh, I'm aware,” Eddie muttered. 

How could he not be, after that shower earlier?

"Look, I’m just saying…can you imagine a suddenly 19 year old Dustin?” Steve said, drawing Eddie abruptly out of the x-rated memories that threatened to flash across his mind. His eyes went so wide with horror, it bordered on comical–Eddie definitely got it, now, why the guys sometimes called him ‘bug-eyed.’ “He'd be a goddamn menace. I'd never get the Beemer back in one piece."

Eddie flashed a grin. "Can't argue with you there. You'll be lucky to get it back in one piece as it is, with me behind the wheel."

Steve's lips turned down in a frown, looking petulant. It was becoming less weird by the second, seeing Steve's sour pout on his own face. Instead it was mostly just…cute. 

“Like hell I’m letting you drive my car again, Munson,” Steve said, nudging his shoulder into Eddie’s as he picked up the old argument again. 

It should have been tired by now, but instead it just felt…easy. Warm and comfortable, like pulling on one of the worn flannels Eddie had stolen the first year he’d started living with Wayne, the ones he still refused to give back.  

“That right, big boy? Well, then, how the hell do you propose I get back to Casa de Harrington for the night?”

They’d already agreed that recreating the situation as the first time they switched seemed like their best bet for switching back. Eddie might have struggled through each and every science class Hawkins High required, but even he’d absorbed enough to understand that was how experiments worked–if you wanted to replicate the results, you had to keep running the test the exact same way again and again.

Steve shrugged, unbothered. “You can walk.”

“That’s miles away, Harrington! You’d really just abandon your good pal Eddie, leave me out here to die?” 

Even in the darkness, Eddie could see the slight twinkle in Steve’s eye. “Don’t worry about it, Eds. I work out. You’ll be completely, 100% fine.”

“Can’t believe you're willing to let me take your body for such a reckless ass spin but not your car,” Eddie shook his head, Steve’s shorter hair tickling the back of his neck. “Such priorities you’ve got, Stevie.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t really have much of a choice on that first one, now do I?” When he caught Eddie’s eyes again, his expression became open, sincere in that way Steve had that always struck him down to his core. “But, I’m serious. I’m really glad it’s you.” 

Unable to pull a strand of hair over his face, Eddie settled for ducking his head to hide his shy, pleased smile. 

“Me too, Stevie. Nobody I’d rather be stuck with.”

Reaching over, Steve settled a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, giving him one of those tight, reassuring squeezes. Eddie couldn’t help but lean into the touch, soaking in the warmth of the moment. 

…That was, at least, until the opening notes of ABBA’s “Dancing Queen” wafted into the air from whatever pop station Steve always had his car radio tuned to, shattering it. 

Eddie wrinkled his nose before shooting Steve a shit-eating grin. “...Even if your music does absolutely suck.”

“Munson, I swear to God…” Steve groaned. 

But then, not even a beat later, his face broke into a wide smile, showing off Eddie’s teeth and dimples. A mischievous glint appeared in his eye. 

Eddie didn’t care for that look, not one iota. 

“Uhhh, dude? What’re you do–?” 

Hand darting out to grab the knob, Steve turned the song up to full blast. Then, he opened his mouth, and, to Eddie’s horror, crooned out an Ooh. 

“No, no, no! Goddamnit, Harrington, don’t you dare!” he cried out. 

…To no avail, as Steve was already belting out the first lines of the song at the top of his lungs. 

Eddie practically vaulted over the gear shift to try and stop him. But Steve just shoved open the car door and raced out into the Munsons’ front yard, too fast for him. 

“Hey, just consider this payback for the Scoops uniform, jerkwad!” he called back over his shoulder, laughing in the face of Eddie’s scowl.

In his haste to follow, Eddie all but fell out of the driver’s side door, scrambling around the Beemer to go after him. 

“Diggin’ the dancing queen!” Steve sang, giving a dorky little shimmy to go along with it. Right out in the open, where there could be witnesses. “Oh, wow. You really do sound, like, super good, dude.” 

Eddie harrumphed, momentarily offended. “Yeah, well, you don’t gotta seem so surprised, man. I’m a professional, after all. Although I’d sound a helluva lot better if you’d sing something decent like–like Dio, or Ozzy, or, fuck, Judas Priest! Have mercy, Stevie, anything but ABBA.” 

As he should have predicted, his comment only made Steve raise his voice even more, loud and proud as the next line rang out into the night sky. 

In retaliation, Eddie shouted out the opening lyrics of Mötley Crüe’s “Come On and Dance” to try and drown him out, sticking his tongue out and banging his head in time. 

“When she's hot, well, damn she's hot! Electric love like Sandra Dee!”

And…what the hell? Steve sounded fucking bad ass, he absolutely had the vocal range for metal. 

But before he could test said range further, Steve pulled him out of his reverie.

“Not gonna work, Eds!” he shook his head, amused. “Like I give a shit who hears me singing your metal crap.”

“Metal crap! Metal crap, he says! Oh, it is so on, Harrington!”

Thankful once again for the boost of Steve’s added speed, Eddie zipped straight towards him and caught him around the waist. Mindful of his own body’s injuries, he wrapped Steve in what was basically a big bear hug, clapping a wide palm over his mouth to silence him. 

Muffled sounds issued from behind his hand, Steve doing his best to keep singing. He wriggled in Eddie’s arms, working to free himself, but to no avail.  

“Well, well, well, still not so easy, is it?” Eddie taunted, wiggling his eyebrows triumphantly. “Going up against those jock muscles of yours?” 

Steve scowled at him, eyes narrowing. 

Then, Eddie felt a warm, wet stripe drag over his skin as Steve licked his hand. 

He dropped his grip, more startled than anything. 

“What the fuck, dude?!” Eddie demanded, wiping the moisture off on Steve’s light rinse jeans. “You’re the one that went on and on about how gross spit was! Just where the hell are those prim and proper royal manners now?”

Steve threw back his head and laughed, pleased as punch with himself. 

“I mean, sure, it absolutely is, but it’s your spit on your hand. I don’t have to put up with it.”

Twirling away from Eddie, he started right back up again. 

“You come to look for a king. Anybody could be that guyyy.” 

“Yeah, uh, not just anybody.” Accepting defeat, Eddie settled for snarky commentary. “Pretty sure we can safely say that’s you, Harrington.” 

Ignoring him, Steve surprised Eddie all over again by extending a hand to him. 

“Eddie,” he needled, batting his eyelashes. Eddie would have said it was a move worthy of him at his most ridiculous–but Steve had pulled the same thing on him before, too, usually with resounding success. 

It shouldn’t have still been as effective as it was, considering Steve was peering back at him out of Eddie’s own big, brown eyes. 

“Come on, man, don’t be a buzzkill,” Steve jutted out his bottom lip, coupling the puppy dog eyes with a devastating pout. “Dance with me.”

…But it was looking more and more like Eddie remained a total sucker for Steve Harrington, in any and all shapes and guises. 

“Somebody’s gonna see us out here, Stevie,” Eddie protested reluctantly.

“So what?” Steve wriggled his shoulders. “Oh, right, I totally forgot, gotta protect your reputation as the biggest, baddest metalhead in town. Seriously, Eds, I thought we put that dumb high school shit behind us.”

He seemed completely unconcerned with his own reputation, what someone might think if they caught “him” dancing with Eddie Munson, local outcast and known freak. 

And, in the face of that, how could Eddie really argue?

He sighed, hanging his head, making an exaggerated show of his defeat. 

“Well, fuck, man, when you put it that way–”  

Steve let out a whoop of triumph. “Score one for Harrington! I knew you’d see it my way.”

Eddie held up a finger. “Let the record show I'm doing this under extreme duress.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get over here, Munson.”

Steve mimed throwing a lasso and looping it around Eddie, reeling him in. After acting out a brief “struggle,” Eddie went, grinning all the way. 

As soon as he was in range, Steve grabbed both his hands, pulling him close. Eddie matched his silly dance move for move, twisting his shoulders and shaking his hips. 

Which that, at least, probably made for quite the show. Eddie was a little sorry he was missing it. 

But Steve’s expression, happy and light and carefree, was even better. So good, in fact, the entire town of Hawkins could have been out on the lawn watching them, and Eddie couldn’t have held on to an ounce of annoyance or embarrassment, even if he tried. 

“You are the dancing queen!” Steve shouted, pointing a finger right at Eddie. 

“Uh, pretty sure you’re the only royalty I see around these parts, Stevie.” 

“Come on, man, you already said I was the king. That means you’ve gotta be my queen, yeah?”

Eddie flushed, stomach swooping as Steve spun them around in the grass. 

“Well, shit, we are a couple of queens,” he conceded. “Nailed that part, at least.” 

“That’s the spirit!” The enthusiasm with which Steve agreed–something that would have been a complete impossibility for him to fathom only a few hours before–warmed Eddie to his core. “Damn right we are.” 

They swayed together, Steve still singing along with every word. And for just a moment, Eddie pictured what it might be like to finally make it to one of those gay clubs he’d heard whisper of up in Indy. Imagined the way sweat would drip off his body under the strobing lights as he lost himself in the music, Steve at his side. 

So, swept up as he was, the next time Steve bellowed out the chorus, movements buoyant and excitement infectious…Eddie joined him. 

“You are the dancing queen! Young and sweet, only seventeen!”

And though he would have only admitted that he’d sang along to the end under threat of death, the way Steve’s smile lit up, bright and shining as any star, honestly made the whole thing worth it.

As they made their final circle, the last chords fading out, Eddie couldn’t help but say, “You know, sweet seventeen Steve Harrington wasn’t this much of a goofball. At least, not from what I remember.”

“Oh, he so was, trust me. You just didn’t know him. And…well,” Steve shrugged his shoulders, sheepish, “he also hid it a lot better, back then. At least in public.”

“Ah. Doing his best to protect his own precious reputation, keep that crown firmly in place, was he?” Eddie said knowingly. “But, you know…kinda wish we had gotten to know each other, during those bygone school days. Probably would have done us both a world of good.”

Steve grimaced. “No way, man, you so don’t. Seriously, I was such an asshole.”

“I mean, you didn’t exactly keep the best company, I’ll give you that. But…nah. Like I told the kids, you weren’t all that bad.” He shook his head, eyes glazing as he took a not at all pleasant stroll down memory lane. “Jesus Christ, you were an absolute peach next to Hargrove and Hagan.”

Steve’s face screwed up, sour like he had sucked on a lemon. “Not exactly a high bar.”

“Better than most, trust me. I’m just saying, sorry we didn’t get our shit together sooner. To think, I could’ve gotten to see the prom king’s dorky ass moves ages ago! For shame!” Eddie teased. Then, he dropped into a dramatic bow. “So thank you for gracing me with a dance now, kind sir.”

Steve rolled his eyes fondly. “Thank you. I mean, after all, it’s only cuz you quit being such a ginormous stick-in-the-mud that I got to.” 

“Well, shit, what can I say? Even the jester himself,” Eddie gestured to himself with a flourishing hand, “has to be reminded to get off his high horse sometimes.”

“Thought we both already agreed you’re my queen, Eds,” Steve said, settling a hand on the small of Eddie’s back and keeping it there as he guided him back towards the car. The weight of it, steady and warm through the material of Steve’s polo, sent a pleased tingle running up Eddie’s spine. 

As he slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door, Steve crossed his arms and leaned onto the open window. 

“And hey, man, who knows? We’ll probably wake up tomorrow, and everything will be hunky dorky again.” He held up his hand, fingers curled into an ‘ok’ sign.

Eddie refused to ask how many times that had actually happened in this town. 

Instead, he chuckled. “Honestly, you’re such a dork, Harrington. I can’t believe people used to go on and on about how damn cool you were.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve waved a dismissive hand at him, then gave the car one final pat as he stood up. “Don’t wreck my car, Munson.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Harrington.”

“I mean it. Just get home in one piece, alright?”

“Roger that, dad,” Eddie taunted mercilessly. 

Steve pursed his lips into that catty, annoyed look Eddie was so fond of and flipped him the bird. Eddie only cackled in response.

“I’m not kidding, asshole! Everything better be in tip-top shape when I wake up tomorrow morning. Not a speck of dust on the paint job or a hair out of place, got it?”

Even amongst his nagging, Eddie could appreciate Steve’s attempt at eternal optimism. 

With a mocking salute, he called back, “Aye-aye, sailor! I have my orders.” 

He waited as Steve, ever the jock, jogged up the front porch steps, making sure he got the trailer door open with the key Eddie had singled out for him. When Steve wiggled his fingers in a final, exasperated wave goodnight, Eddie revved the engine once, just to rile him up. 

Then, he was off. 

—

At night, Harrington Manor stood quiet. 

The whole neighborhood did, really, those eerie little identikit Stepford houses dark and silent. Even just shutting the door to the Beemer a tiny bit too hard had Eddie worried the housewife across the street might call in a noise complaint on him. 

He couldn’t help but wonder how Steve had pulled it off, all those years of house parties, without Hopper immediately turning up to break things up. 

As he entered the house, unease crept up Eddie’s spine, lingering with him as he started towards the stairs that led to Steve’s bedroom. 

It wasn’t the horror movie kind, like something was watching, out to get you. After his run-in with the Upside Down, Eddie was intimately aware of how that particular brand of discomfort felt. 

No, this was more the itchy sensation that came with visiting a distant relative you only knew through stories. Long gone was the sense, from earlier in the day, that Eddie shouldn’t still be counted as a guest in the Harrington house. 

He felt like a guest, now. Or, even worse–an intruder.

Because, apart from when he’d woken up that morning, Eddie had never been in Steve’s house without the man himself around. It felt wrong, to be here when he wasn’t. 

The whole ‘alone’ thing wasn’t even what really bothered Eddie about it, at least not completely. Honestly, that was familiar enough. Wayne worked third shift at the plant, after all, so he’d spent many a night by himself. 

But, even when he wasn’t home, his uncle’s presence lingered at the trailer, in every trucker cap and souvenir mug lining the walls. 

So, no, being alone wasn’t what left Eddie’s chest aching, had him missing Steve fiercely despite the fact they’d spent the entire day together. It was just how lonely the empty Harrington mansion felt. 

Because if the Harringtons’ signature touch was here, Eddie couldn’t tell it. 

Surely Steve’s mom had had a hand in decorating the place? But every space felt more like a showroom you’d see in the glossy pages of a magazine than a home, each item in its place, tidily tucked away. 

Most of the furniture, expensive though it might have been, looked uncomfortable and barely used, further evidence that Eddie’s hunch was right. Only the couch in the den showed any signs of wear and tear, the result of many a movie night Steve had hosted for the party, as Eddie now knew from experience. Abstract paintings lined the white walls along the staircase as he climbed it, not a single photo of gap-toothed baby Steve to be seen. 

Seventeen year old Eddie had often wondered, in moments he'd been anything but proud of, what it might be like to be born with a silver spoon in his mouth. 

He’d never pictured it’d be anything like this, drifting through the halls of a so-called ‘resplendent’ palace and finding it cold and empty. 

Sure, for his own sake, he was glad that the wayward Harrington parents weren’t here–had no idea how he’d manage to fake it if they had been. But…how the hell must Steve feel, spending night after night in their gaping absence? 

After the suffocatingly still hallway, even Steve’s room felt like a breath of fresh air. Finally, Eddie was in one of the only spots in the whole place where there were signs of life, limited though they might be. The terrible matching plaid wallpaper and single poster aside, a few of Steve’s sports trophies on display, alongside a wayward bowling pin, and he did have personal pictures framed on his desk and bedside table. 

Eddie’s eyes ran over them eagerly. Dustin, all decked out for one of the middle school dances, hair done up in a Harrington-approved ‘do. Max, on her skateboard in front of the Byers’ place, Lucas and El off on the sidelines happily cheering her tricks on. Steve and Robin, perched on the Scoops Ahoy counter, making faces at the camera. There were even a few shots of Eddie, sprinkled in amongst them. 

Silly as it might have seemed, just seeing those familiar faces smiling up at him was a comfort, after the blank drabness of the rest of the house. 

He hoped it offered the same relief to Steve, on nights he found himself up here on his own. 

To try and drown out the echoing silence, Eddie turned on Steve’s stereo. Hell, he’d welcome ABBA at this point, anything to disrupt the gnawing feeling of solitude. 

When the opening chords of Dio’s “Rainbow in the Dark”–the third track on the mixtape he’d made for Steve–filled the air, he did a double take. Eddie started humming along as he went to Steve’s dresser, mouth curving helplessly into a giddy smile. 

Rifling through the pajama drawer, he grabbed a pair of Steve’s Hawkins High Athletics sweatpants and one of his own Judas Priest’s tees, left behind after many a night spent staying over. Steve might have slept shirtless usually, but there was no way in hell if he tried that, Eddie would last til morning with his sanity still intact. And while he certainly wasn’t opposed to wearing something more prototypically Steve, like the swim team or Wham! T-shirt he spotted–both well worn and soft as hell, enough so Eddie had gone for them himself countless times in the past–a part of him delighted in imagining Steve waking up the next morning wearing his shirt. 

Which, with any luck, he would. 

Eddie drifted off surrounded, as he had been all day, with that strange, intoxicating mix of Steve and him together–Ozzy Osborne playing lowly in the background, the scent of expensive detergent and fancy shampoo all around him. 

His last thoughts were the hope–wish, really–that tomorrow, they’d be able to look back on this whole thing and laugh. Munson and Harrington, rolling Nat 20 once more on a wild and whacky but, for once, mostly harmless trial in Hawkins, Indiana. 

—

For the second morning in a row, Steve woke up in Eddie Munson's bed.

Taglist below! As always, if you’d liked to be added or removed, please just let me know:

@tinytalkingtina @eriquin @spectrum-spectre @grimweathers @highkingpenny

@yesdangerpls @vthx @queenie-ofthe-void @pearynice @felixir-of-moths

@stevesworldxx @themellowyellowmomma @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @anne-bennett-cosplayer

@sidekick-hero @thefreakandthehair @hbyrde36 @lingeringmirth @too-efn-old-to-be-here

@ellietheasexylibrarian @sharingisntkaren @a-lovely-craziness @soaringornithopter

[lunarianscorpio]

Courtship: Venus Signs (part 1)

Earth signs Desire commitment and a lasting partnership.

♑︎ Capricorn Venus:

Traits:

Loyal, protective, quietly romantic, reserved, thoughtful, and considerate in matters of love, romance, aesthetic, self-worth, and money.

Practical about themselves, understanding their worth in the material world and how others perceive them.

May appear aloof, but knows precisely what they want in a partner.

Will patiently wait for the right person who fulfills their needs and standards.

Prioritizes career or finances during single periods.

Potential imbalance if partnered with a water Mars sign, as they might yearn for love despite being comfortable alone.

Speaks highly of you, openly expressing affection and admiration.

Brings up your name in conversations, showcasing a deep pride and love.

Holds themselves to a standard of perfection, pushing for continuous improvement and sometimes feeling resentful for falling short.

Learns that self-worth is a gradual process, not a forced ascent.

Refined aesthetic taste with a strong inclination towards the arts, especially visual arts.

Enjoys concrete and physical expressions like sculpting, painting, and escaping into books.

Looks for love when it aligns with life plans and flows naturally.

Enjoys darker colors, earth tones, and may favor black without flashy appearances.

Dresses in a reserved, chic, professional, or vintage-inspired manner.

Appreciates rich earthy smells like coffee grounds, vetiver, and rainy woods, as well as clean spicy scents.

Loves food, particularly rich dishes with sentimental value.

Very good with money, enjoys it, and doesn't require much assistance.

Attraction Preferences:

Attracted to corporate types, mysterious, closed off, enigmatic, classy, and practical individuals.

May be drawn to businessmen, morticians, older people, architects, and mystics, venus in taurus, virgo, capricorn, scorpio & aquarius.

Romantic Behavior:

Takes love seriously with a guarded heart, feeling deeply in love.

Very romantic but often feels like gestures aren't sufficient, leading to inaction.

Shy and rarely flirts, but when they do it's straightforward and to the point.

Indicators of interest include trying to impress through achievements or appearance changes.

Finds dating challenging and tends to avoid it.

In relationships, seeks reassurance of worth, cherishment, and likes to be in charge but remains loyal for the long haul.

♉︎Taurus Venus:

Traits:

Intense, sweet, amorous, dependable, highly romantic, and artistic in matters of money, self-worth, and relationships.

Struggle with self-worth, often comparing themselves to a mental aesthetic and others' looks; need to recognize and appreciate their internal and external beauty.

Enjoys various creative pursuits, particularly art in all its forms, including poetry and fashion; may also have a love for cooking and music.

Craves pampering and security for genuine romantic love.

Adores style and cultivates a unique, expressive fashion sense rather than following trends.

Good with colors, with a preference for all colors, avoiding overly loud or aggressive shades.

Prefers luxurious and flavorful foods, often indulging in sweets; enjoys rich and intoxicating smells like vetiver and Spanish moss.

Envisions an ideal partner but may find it challenging to meet someone worthy.

Values luxury and comfort in relationships.

Willing to test suitors to identify the one truly devoted to love.

Surprisingly, adept at managing money; understands when to save and when to spend, with purchases typically substantial.

Attraction Preferences:

Looks for well-dressed, classy, debonair, and sturdy individuals who are reliable and appealing; may also be drawn to the starving artist.

Finds bankers, farmers, businesspeople, artists, singers, and chefs interesting romantically, as well as venus in capricorn, taurus, virgo, pisces and cancer.

Romantic Approach:

Shy and reticent in matters of the heart due to intense and deep feelings of love.

Signs of a Venus in Taurus crush include becoming soft-spoken, gentle, touchy, or direct stares.

Prefers silent coaxing and seduction, often not outwardly showing intentions but putting extra effort into appearance.

Enjoys giving little gifts and favors to catch someone's attention.

Loves being pursued, feeling special, and indulging in classical romance with all senses involved.

Like Capricorn, can wait patiently for the right match.

Envisions a future with you and strives to bring joy into your life.

Unable and unwilling to imagine a moment without you, showcasing deep emotional attachment

Craves physicality, contact, and commitment for a stable relationship; highly responsive and respects differences to achieve a harmonious equilibrium

♍︎ Virgo Venus:

Traits:

Analytical, helpful, idealistic, altruistic, and witty in dealing with aesthetic, self-worth, money, relationships, and romance.

Struggles with self-worth due to intense analysis of aesthetic and high expectations for perfection in artistic endeavors.

Needs to learn self-love by embracing flaws as part of the mortal experience.

May avoid Venusian activities out of fear of not being good enough, despite possessing skills in art, especially in sculpting, painting, gardening, and fitness.

Enjoys soft colors reminiscent of spring, woody browns, and greens.

Dresses in a conservative and professional style, conveying their identity concisely.

Prefers smells associated with comfort, cleanliness, citrus, vanilla, or fresh sheets.

Health-conscious and selective about food, considering taste and health reasons.

Analytical and good with money, excelling in facts, figures, and understanding the monetary value.

Attraction Preferences:

Attracted to practical, healing, intelligent, logical, and detail-oriented individuals.

Finds mechanics, scientists, doctors, researchers, and teachers attractive, venus in taurus, capricorn, virgo, cancer & scorpio.

Romantic Approach:

Shy and hesitant to initiate, prefers being pursued in romantic relationships.

Not inclined towards overt displays of affection or emotional expressions.

Tests partners subtly for devotion; silently contemplates moving on if betrayed.

Displays profound kindness, aiming to enhance your days with subtle yet impactful gestures.

May struggle with dating due to the ability to magnify minor flaws in others.

Indicates a crush by offering help with projects or problems, showing a genuine desire to assist.

Craves deep unconditional love and struggles with criticism due to self-critique.

Needs reassurance and to be cherished, emphasizing the existence of perfection through love.

Fire Signs: Seek thrill and excitement, desire an intoxicating romance.

♐Sagittarius Venus:

Traits:

Happy-go-lucky, adventurous, moralistic, and charitable in matters of self-worth, love, money, aesthetic, and romance.

Generally maintains a healthy self-worth with contagious perky confidence.

Enjoys flirting, playing the field, and has a childlike spirit, but must avoid becoming overly cocky.

Fondness for literature, poetry, spoken arts, and may engage in creative pursuits like music.

Views love as a game for entertainment.

Needs freedom; relationship flourishes with the right balance.

Prone to boredom and drawn to creative, unattainable partners.

Loves games, including sports or video games.

Looks for love randomly but avoids feeling tied down, keeping options open during the search.

Enjoys dramatic and vibrant colors that evoke a happy or jovial vibe.

Dresses in a comfortable and interesting sporty or hippy-esque manner.

Willing to compromise, recognizing the importance of give-and-take in maintaining the relationship.

Prioritizes the relationship over the desire for control.

Finds mentally stimulating and "foreign" foods delightful, especially spicy dishes.

Prefers earthy and floral smells, like fresh-cut flowers.

Attraction Preferences:

Attracted to different, free-thinking, scholarly, and jocular individuals.

May be drawn to professors, older people, athletes, large individuals, or sages, venus in sagittarius, leo, aries, aquarius and gemini.

Romantic Approach:

Doesn't take love too seriously and sees it as something to be enjoyed.

Expresses crush openly or tries to make the person laugh if attracted.

Enjoys dating, meeting new people, and tends to grow infatuated quickly.

Needs space and time to feel independent in romance.

Requires expansive and big gestures for true fulfillment.

Dislikes clichés, dense individuals, and clinginess.

Seeks a partner in crime and confidant for genuine engagement in a relationship.

♈︎Aries Venus:

Traits:

Pioneering, vivacious, unapologetic, and feisty in matters of self-worth, style, money, and relationships.

Healthy self-worth, with Venus influencing interests and self-definition.

In the arts for making striking, edgy statements rather than adhering to traditional beauty standards.

Fond of debate and mental combat; values independence and security for genuine love.

Striking style, athletic/provocative appearance, or an appearance that appears indifferent.

Fondness for warm colors and simple, comfortable fabrics; may enjoy spicy food and earthy smells.

Not overly concerned with money, views it as a necessity; can spend on expensive hobbies and toys.

Attraction Preferences:

Looks for spontaneous, fun-loving, extroverted, and exciting lovers; may find quiet but in-control individuals appealing.

Attracted to athletes, soldiers, mechanics (technical thinking), rebels, lawyers, construction workers, and rough individuals romantically and physically, venus in aries, leo, sagittarius, aquarius and gemini.

Romantic Approach:

Driven, direct, and open in the arena of love; willing to try anything once.

Sign of a Venus in Aries crush is teasing in good fun; loves to show off and impress the object of affection.

Enjoys the chase and seduction, though may grow bored quickly; awkwardly romantic and wants to pamper loved ones.

Enjoys the chase but may get bored once the conquest is achieved.

Requires physical and mental stimulation to stay in love.

In relationships, desires independence and control; dislikes being told what to do or competing.

Needy romantically, vocal, and somewhat pushy in expressing desires; values feeling appreciated and being treated as number one.

Reveals their vulnerable sides to you, emphasizing transparency and reciprocity.

Demonstrates an all-encompassing love once they've truly embraced their feelings for you.

♌︎Leo Venus:

Traits:

Bright, magnanimous, fun-loving, romantic, and superfluous in matters of self-worth, love, relationships, money, and aesthetic.

Self-worth can vary from low to overly high, often compensating and may appear arrogant.

Requires constant reassurance of self-value, sensitive to insults, and hides struggles behind a smile.

Enjoys the arts, excelling in activities where they can be in the spotlight, including sports and physical activities.

Seeks love when feeling unappreciated but waits for genuine needs.

Dresses in a sporty, casual, flashy, professional, or debonair style with a fondness for bright colors, gold, red, and occasionally black.

Enjoys giving attention and expects occasional reciprocity.

May become overwhelming when self-absorbed, needs grounding.

Loves spicy aromas, such as cinnamon, cardamom, and clove, as well as smooth scents like vanilla.

Enjoys indulging in various foods, especially childlike treats.

May spend generously, particularly for the enjoyment of others, requiring assistance in budgeting.

Attraction Preferences:

Attracted to showy, artistic, athletic, charismatic, and powerful individuals.

Loves glamour and grandiose declarations in relationships.

Seeks a loyal and committed partner who enhances their ego.

May find appeal in bosses, artists, actors, soldiers, royalty archetypes, and athletes.

Romantic Approach:

Goes all out in love, courting, pursuing, and wooing simultaneously.

Enjoys spectacular romance and is not shy about dating or the dating scene.

Expresses interest by going out of their way to impress and compliment, may straightforwardly communicate their feelings.

Desires to be treated like royalty, pampered, and made to feel special.

Expects reciprocity in passion, intensity, and drama to keep the relationship fresh.

Dislikes feeling unimportant and needs consistent expressions of love, yet maintains independence.

Water Signs: Seek a fairy tale romance, searching for a Prince or Princess.

♓︎Pisces Venus:

Traits:

Dreamy, romantic, loving, creative, and fantastical in matters of love, self-worth, money, relationships, and aesthetics.

May have a deluded sense of self, occasionally needing help to see themselves clearly.

Shy but enjoys occasional flirtation, especially in a playful context.

Attentively listens and remembers your words, valuing communication as a way to understand and love you better.

Enjoys hearing you talk, using it as an opportunity to deepen their understanding of you.

Enjoys art, particularly music, dance, and literature.

Often seeks love, viewing themselves as a part of a whole, searching for a profound connection.

Shy in pursuing but makes subtle gestures to be closer.

Needs to occasionally be more selfish in relationships.

Vulnerable to being taken advantage of due to an overly loving nature.

Loves colors reminiscent of the ocean and the sky, including dark to light blues, greens, purples, and black.

Fashion style can vary from free-flowing, ocean-breeze attire to trendy runway looks or understated appearances to avoid attention.

Enjoys aromas like the ocean, fruit, and candy.

Has a big appetite and loves seafood, sugary sweets, and food from different cultures.

Not overly materialistic but acquires money effortlessly, often spending it on loved ones.

Attraction Preferences:

Attracted to mystical, aloof, artistic, emotionally expressive, and structured individuals.

Compatibility with sailors, psychics, healers, artists, or therapists, venus in pisces, cancer, scorpio and maybe taurus.

Romantic Behavior:

Shy yet not afraid to initiate romantic gestures.

Signs of interest include leaving messages unread (a commitment test) and engaging in deep conversations beyond typical bedtime hours.

Prefers soulmate connections over casual dating.

Needs lots of love, affection, and care in a relationship.

Dislikes being perceived as overly dependent and can be disillusioned if their idealized image of a loved one shatters.

♋︎Cancer Venus:

Traits:

Affectionate, sentimental, sweet, romantic, and receptive in matters of self-worth, money, style, aesthetic, partnership, and love.

Healthy self-worth usually influenced by family perceptions and upbringing.

Tendency to become engrossed in memories, potentially distorting them, leading to psychic disharmony.

Enjoys emotionally fulfilling hobbies such as reading, acting, cooking, baking, gardening, and finds stimulation in architecture or interior design.

Looks for settling-down material in love, avoiding games.

Assumes the role of the nurturing mother in relationships.

Magnetic and alluring, attracts partners effortlessly.

Analyzes and evaluates relationships; values security and harmony.

Style may not always be fashionable but holds value and meaning, either following family styles or changing frequently to keep up with trends.

Fondness for pastels, silver shades, especially purple and blue, preferring a dapper look without being overly flashy.

Delighted by scents from home, ocean breeze, or a forest after rain, with a preference for earthy and fruity smells.

Loves cooking and food, attached to traditional dishes, with a craving for sweets and creamy treats.

Excellent with money, skilled in investment and business ownership.

Attraction Preferences:

Attracted to emotional, trustworthy, familiar, and loving individuals.

May also be drawn to sailors, travelers, royalty archetypes, poets, bodybuilders, and comedians, venus in cancer, scorpio, pisces, taurus and virgo.

Romantic Approach:

Shy but can pursue if necessary, values traditional romance and believes in love traditions like meeting the spouse's family.

Takes relationships seriously, finds letting go challenging.

Signs of a crush include blushing, bashfulness, attempts to talk, and revealing something emotional

Will push back if being used, prioritizes home harmony.

Invests considerable time in your company, fostering comfort and mutual ease.

Their presence brings a soothing calmness, contributing to a deep sense of connection.

Desires a fairy tale experience, appreciates sentimental mementos, and values cherishing shared memories.

Craves emotionality and feels hurt if emotions are disregarded, but can become clingy and manipulative if not moderated.

Extremely loyal and willing to weather the storm, not easily bored.

♏︎Scorpio Venus:

Traits:

Possessive, secretive, romantic, intense, loving, and creative in matters of self-worth, money, love, relationships, and mystique.

Tendency for relatively low self-worth, feeling unattractive, and presenting a facade to compensate, emphasizing the seriousness of love.

Craves cherishment and security for a safe and healthy self-worth.

Subconscious and energetically seductive, attracting both desired and unwanted things.

Displays creativity, viewing destruction as a form of creation, especially in music or activities involving breaking and destroying things.

Enjoys sports, video games, and may have various artistic talents.

Desires to merge and feel complete, often seeking love but may struggle when needing support.

Appreciates a variety of colors, with greens, purples, and blues drawing particular interest.

Dresses in a sporty, dark, artsy, or blending-in manner.

Prefers hypnotic and deep smells like dark chocolate, wine, and musky sea scents.

Enjoys spicy foods and exotic tastes that mentally and physically engage them.

Skilled with money and investing.

Attraction Preferences:

Attracted to intriguing, mysterious, closed-off, powerful, and emotionally intense individuals.

May find interest in surgeons, doctors, researchers, mystics, sailors, and chemists, venus scorpio, cancer, pisces, capricorn and virgo.

Romantic Approach:

Takes love seriously, aiming to make their significant other happy even if not overtly romantic.

Signs of a crush may include slight rudeness or playful power games, seeking attention harmlessly

Tests partners to determine worth, with potential psychological challenges.

Struggles to trust, but deepens emotionally when in love.

Sensitive to your emotions, quick to notice when you're feeling down.

Focuses on understanding and meeting your love language needs, especially during challenging times.

Serious about love, dating can be challenging.

Needs a partner who understands the intensity of their passions, values trust, and avoids deception.

Loyal and committed once invested in a relationship.

Air Signs: Seek innovators and intellectual connection in romance.

♒Aquarius Venus:

Traits:

Impersonal, creative, original, universal, and shocking in matters of relationships, love, aesthetic, self-worth, and money.

Usually has a healthy, if not detached, self-worth.

May distance themselves from the concept of "the self," which could be psychologically challenging.

Friendly and may unintentionally flirt; aesthetic taste is intriguing, embracing individuality and the arts.

Finds beauty in dreamy, surreal colors like pastels and neons.

Enjoys music, visual arts, poetry, and activities involving the mind like video games.

Looks for love when feeling a lack of a true community and seeks one-on-one connections.

Dress style may be striking, eclectic, modern, or fitting a group aesthetic with a hint of a hippy flair.

Enjoys scents like the ocean, clean, light, breezy, and sweet aromas like cotton candy.

Appreciates complex and unique flavors for mental stimulation.

Good with money but prone to sudden spending sprees.

Preferences in Others:

Likes individuals who are aloof, idiosyncratic, distant, unattainable, intelligent, and humanitarian.

Attracted to musicians, scientists, researchers, astrologers/mystics, and philanthropists, venus in aquarius, gemini, libra, aries and saggitarius.

Romantic Behavior:

Cerebral about love but values its importance.

Indicators of interest are sporadic and confusing, ranging from acting like you don't exist to wanting to hang out.

Struggles with the balance between independence and craving companionship

Craves stability and loyalty despite a logical façade.

Expresses feelings through late-night texts, sharing thoughts they might hesitate to say in person.

Fickle in courtship; captivates with eccentricities.

Values freedom, loyalty, and stability; may become depressed without them.

Not particularly fond of dating and may see it as a waste of time.

In a relationship, seeks reliability paired with excitement and random, unexpected events.

Once committed, tends to stay, being a fixed sign.

♊︎Gemini Venus:

Traits:

Charming, poetic, sociable, witty, and cunning in matters of self-worth, love, aesthetic, finances, and relationships.

Self-worth tied to communication skills and fitting into the community, needing to learn that being liked doesn't equate to true beauty.

Enjoys various creative pursuits, including dance, music, poetry, and a genuine love for conversation; may also have a fondness for sports.

Requires stimulation in a relationship, finds love more fun than necessary.

Trendy in fashion, stylish, adaptable to changing trends; values fashion as a form of communication.

Likes bright colors, especially various shades of blues, and tends to shy away from dark colors.

Enjoys a variety of food, likes to be intellectually engaged with what they eat, with a fondness for sour and childlike sweet foods.

Attracted to citrusy, sharp, and clean smells, such as fresh sheets.

Doesn't overly focus on money, invests well, and can be impulsive with hobbies or travel urges

Thrives on communication; requires mental stimulation.

Loses interest if not intellectually engaged.

Easily uses people for temporary connections until captivated elsewhere.

Attraction Preferences:

Attracted to intellectual, well-informed, sporty, suave, and aesthetically pleasing individuals; may appreciate the "wholesome person next door" aesthetics.

Finds PR people, librarians, professors, bosses, writers, actors, athletes, or local individuals attractive, compatible with venus in aquarius, gemini, libra, sagittarius & aries.

Romantic Approach:

Flirty, fun-loving, and eager in romantic relationships.

Displays goofiness or attempts to make the other person laugh when they have a crush.

Enjoys intellectual play and wants a partner who can match their quickness.

Thrives on humor, eureka moments, and engagement of the mind.

Enjoys the thrill of the chase but may grow bored with monotony; long-distance relationships can work well.

Loves learning about their partner, so keeping them guessing and engaged is crucial.

♎Libra Venus:

Traits:

Harmonious, diplomatic, balanced, romantic, and idealistic in self-worth, money, love, and relationships.

Self-worth is influenced by how others treat them, seeking approval and universal love, but can struggle with feeling not good enough.

Needs to learn self-love and not rely solely on others for integral well-being.

Enjoys flirting and charm, finding exhilaration in social interactions and fun with potential mates and friends.

Naturally gifted in the arts, excelling in fashion, architecture, and textiles.

Actively looks for love, deeming it important and feeling lonely without it.

Ruled by Venus; loves beauty, luxury, comfort, and diplomacy.

Attracts potential partners effortlessly due to appealing qualities.Has varied color preferences based on cultural definitions of balance, avoiding reactions in people.

Trendy and hip in dressing, adapting to current aesthetics without growing overly fond of styles.

Enjoys bright, sunny smells like orange and mango, along with fruity, gentle, and sugary scents.

Adores sweet foods, indulges the senses, and may overspend on luxuries, requiring help in budgeting.

Attraction Preferences:

Attracted to polite, intelligent, artistic, and politically savvy individuals.

May find interest in lawyers, decorators, doctors, venus in libra, gemini, aquarius, leo and sagittarius.

Romantic Approach:

Ruled by social convention, enjoys romantic gestures seen in movies and media.

Can be passive romantically but enjoys playing cat and mouse games, flirting, and having fun, even if shyly.

Signs of a crush include compliments, offers to help, and extending invitations to social events.

Needs a fun, light, and very romantic partner to feel complete.

Values trust in friends and lovers, seeking someone to share both joy and dark times

May withdraw if harmony is disrupted; values care and nurturing.

Can harbor deep rage if pushed to the limit in a toxic relationship.

Communicates emotions through their eyes, conveying the depth of their love without words.

Enjoys the dating scene, finding joy in getting to know potential partners.

Dislikes crass or unpleasant partners who embarrass them.

Lives in a realm of pure ideals, exhibiting prince/princess charming-like qualities.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Narrative Arc

Narrative arc - also called a “story arc,” a “dramatic arc,” or just an “arc”.

It is a literary term for the path a story follows.

It provides a backbone by providing a clear beginning, middle, and end of the story.

Freytag's Pyramid

The concept of narrative arc as we know it today was created by Gustav Freytag, a German novelist and playwright who closely analyzed ancient Greek writing, along with William Shakespeare’s five-act plays.

As the term suggests, when plotted on paper, a typical narrative arc forms the shape of a hill or pyramid.

5 Classic Elements of a Narrative Arc

A traditional narrative arc has five elements, in the following order:

Exposition. This is the reader’s introduction to the story. The exposition offers background information to prime the audience for the rest of the story, including introducing the main character(s) (the “who”), setting (the “where”), and circumstances or time period (the “when”).

Rising action. This is when conflict begins to ramp up. The rising action usually begins with what’s called an “inciting incident”—the triggering event that puts the main events of the story in motion. This is when the audience starts to see what your story is really about.

Climax. This is the highest point of tension in your storyline, and often the point at which all the different subplots and characters converge. Typically, the climax requires the main character to face the truth or make an important choice.

Falling action. This is what happens as a result of the protagonist’s decision. During the falling action, the conflict gives way to resolution. Loose ends are tied up, and tension begins to dissipate.

Resolution. Also known as a denouement, this is how your story ends. The resolution of a narrative arc isn’t always happy, but it does close the loop and show how the events of the story have changed the characters and the world around them.

Narrative Arc vs. Plot

Plot - the individual events that make up your story. In other words, the plot is what happens.

Narrative arc - the path or sequence of your plot, and how that series of events creates a flow and progression that keeps the reader engaged at each stage in the story.

Narrative Arc vs. Character Arc

If a narrative arc is the path of the overall story,

a character arc is the path a specific character takes during that story.

The story arc is external, and happens to all of the characters,

while a character arc is internal, and happens to one person.

A character arc usually involves a character overcoming an obstacle and changing the way they see the world.

When the narrative arc begins its descent down the pyramid into the falling action and resolution, the character arc has its moment to shine.

This is when a character experiences a turning point by asking for help, learning a new skill, making a critical choice, and/or becoming more self-aware.

Typically, only major characters have character arcs, though minor characters can undergo this type of character development as well.

Create a Narrative Arc in 4 Easy Steps

Here are some writing tips for building a narrative arc in your own writing:

Choose an archetypal narrative arc. Think about the story you want to tell. Is the main character overcoming an obstacle? Going on a quest? Experiencing a rebirth? You don’t have to follow any one example to the letter, but writing with an archetypal narrative arc in mind can be a huge help.

Identify your beginning, middle, and end. Who are the main characters? What are they doing? When are they doing it? Where are they doing it? Why are they doing it? And, most importantly: What is all of that building toward?

Plug your events into a narrative arc. Creating a visual diagram of your chosen narrative arc, then add the events of your story along that arc. Seeing a quick overview of your story on a page makes it easier to identify problems and fill any gaps. For instance, if you have a lot of events clustered in your “exposition” stage, you may want to cut some of them out or reimagine them as new developments in the rising action.

Adjust as needed. Of course, there’s no hard and fast rule that you have to stick to Freytag’s traditional narrative arc. Every story is different: some are heavier on exposition, while others draw out the rising action. Give yourself the freedom to be flexible and see where your unique story goes.

The next time you sit down to write, consider drawing up a quick narrative arc. It’s a useful tool that can help you stay on track if you’re ever unsure of what comes next in your story.

Source ⚜ More: References ⚜ Plot ⚜ Character ⚜ Worldbuilding ⚜ Exposition

[adventures-in-mangaland]

I'm going with 10 All Time Classics from the Captain America (MCU) fandom. I mean, they're all classics to me, at least. In no particular order:

1. This, You Protect by owlet

First installment in the Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail series, which are all amazing. It's a “Bucky escaping Hydra and rebuilding his sense of self” fic, which he does while spying on Steve. With eventual Avengers Family and a lovely cast of OCs bonding with Bucky in the meantime. It has a very distinctive perspective and writing style; Bucky's in constant internal (and sometimes accidentally external) dialogue with himself, making it hilarious and tragic all at the same time. I love it. I've recently been getting into The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells and this Bucky has a similar sassy-but-vulnerable vibe? Read this if you like that, anyway.

2. The One Who Knows by Dira Sudis (dsudis)

This is a Political Animals AU, in that no-powers Steve is inserted into the Political Animals world and Bucky is TJ. Discusses being outed and depression but is ultimately hopeful. The author is one of my all time faves and has written lots of great stories for this and many other fandoms.

3. Blue Scales by chaya

Steve is a merman AU. He's still Captain America, though. It's crack with heart, I love it.

Best line: "May your scales and your love story be our weird secret forever.”

4. Our Lingering Frost by eyres

AU where Bucky is rescued from Hydra in the 50s (?) and so is around for Steve to be found.

5. Assets Out of Containment by follow_the_sun

It's a classic to *me*, OK? Bucky goes undercover at Jurassic World just as that movie's plot kicks off. They're Hydra dinosaurs! It's just great. Also has a podfic and crossovers with Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

6. Not Easily Conquered (series) by dropdeaddream and WhatAreFears

Some of the greatest fanfiction I've ever read, the whole series is epic. Anyway, it's a "Steve doesn't go into the ice" AU with added queer angst when (never sent) love letters from Bucky resurface. I particularly like the second installment in the series The Thirteen Letters, which are just Bucky's letters and are insanely well-written.

7. to memory now I can't recall by Etharei

Time travel AU! Featuring post-CATWS Bucky accidentally switching places with CATFA era Bucky.

8. If Wishing Made It So by Leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)

Genie!Bucky AU! This author is great at writing AUs with fantasy/genre elements, it was hard to choose. They've also written an excellent werewolf!Steve AU and a horse!Steve AU that I really love.

9. Into That Good Night by Nonymos

An Interstellar AU! Very angsty and tragic but with an eventual happy ending.

10. Goodbye Piccadilly, Farewell Leicester Square by Speranza

Speranza must be one of the best writers in the fandom, so it was hard to pick just one of their fics. Other strong contenders were All the Angels and the Saints and The Fifties, so check those out too! But this one has a special place in my heart. Steve, Tony and Natasha accidentally time travel to WW2 London, leading to an accidental run-in with CATFA-era Bucky. The author does tragic and romantic time travel tropes so well, but with a happy ending.

I now realise that most of these are AUs, so here’s a bonus rec for a non-AU in-universe story that’s severely underrated and deserves more love:

+1

Heart, Have No Pity on this House of Bone by Sena

This story follows Bucky in-action in the Pacific Theatre. It’s very well written and, from what I can tell, well researched. Steve only appears in Bucky’s imagination and the story focuses on the horrors of war rather than romance, but it’s gripping! And it explores unrequited love, being closeted and period-typical homophobia, which I also enjoyed. I’m still holding out hope for a sequel.

[fabio-27125]

After a long period of screaming NOTHING, I’m back!!!

Yay😂….

and I brought something “new” with me:

the

PHILIPS NC2234 Full Auto Stop

Cassette Recorder

It’s a classic mono tape recorder for usual Compact Cassettes from the late 70s to the early 80s.

But though it’s all in all quite basic, it contains one or another little feature, that didn’t used to be so basic back in the day (or let’s say, that wasn’t included in every device you would call a “classic tape recorder from 1980”).

For the classic features, it has a built in microphone, one big internal speaker (because it’s mono), the typical big buttons for play, pause, record etc.. , a counter, a handle to carry it around, the ability to run it on batteries (6 C-cells) or by cable, and the Auto Stop function.

Special features (in my opinion) would be the “Tone Regulation” (turning button right above the identical volume regulator) and the numerous different connection sockets all around it. Not because there are some at all, but more because of their kind and number!

Typical for an European device of that time would possibly be one or two five poled “Din-Sockets” for headphones or a microphone etc… .But this one doesn’t have a single one of those! In fact is has (beside the plug in for the electricity cable) two regular 3.5 mm Headphone sockets (like in- and output), a little slimmer remote socket (I don’t know how this is actually called) and on the other side it has a single two poled “Din-Socket” for an external speaker.

Sadly the 3.5mm sockets don’t really work, like the output (“phones”) doesn’t work at all and the input (“mic”) works so far, that I was able to record from a plugged in radio, but the quality was so terrible that you couldn’t understand a single word (but the recording mechanism itself works pretty good, because the recordings I’ve made with the built in microphone were actually pretty good and in fact way better than with other devices that I’ve used before this one). The “remote”-socket was the only thing I wasn’t able to test, because I have absolutely no idea what exactly type of plug this is for. But the two poled “Din-Socket” on the other side works perfectly! I’ve connected my Sony headphones via some adapters (Din to Cinch and Cinch to 3.5mm) with it and it works great. Like it sounds way better than from the internal speaker (obviously: cause modern Headphones vs 45yo mono speaker 😂).

Oh and beside all of that technical stuff, I just love it’s absolutely sleek and timeless design, that I think was typical for all early Philips tape decks and recorders (like since the late 60s).

So in conclusion, it’s a (nearly) fully working cassette recorder that is actually still usable for listening to music or voice recording via the built in microphone, but more useless for external recordings!

I gave it a second life by putting it on it’s own little table in my kitchen, where it could just stand around and look beautiful most of the time, but also entertain me with music once in a while.

[vegaseatsass]

I woke up at 4 and was like "I'll get back to sleep" but then I looked at tumblr and now I have to blog about gay television!#justlittlepridemonththings

But yeah I want to share my take on The Ex-Morning! Because I feel unwaveringly certain as of now that Tam was externally pressured to leave Phi. Between his foreshadowing-y recklessness at the CCTV catching them doing PDA at work, and that absolutely gutting conversation where he asked if "we" would ever be ready for marriage, clearly meaning "our society as a whole" as much as he meant "our relationship after I leave you tomorrow morning", I have no doubts whatsoever that this was not a choice he made for a single voluntary reason. Whether someone actually threatened Phi's career or just maliciously reminded Tam their relationship could fuck everything up for Phi, and he internalized that to his core, I do not know, but I remain absolutely certain that he did not make the choice to leave on his own steam and that we have been given all the cues that the steam behind him was external and weaponized homophobia.

In some ways this is less interesting to me than if there had been real unresolved problems in their relationship that drove an immature, conflict-avoidant Tam away instead of acknowledging or working through them, but I didn't honestly truly expect that from a GMMTV show, I just... hope one day we will get an Exes QL that lets the relationship be that level of realistically fraught (side note: first reaction to clocking homophobia as the breakup reason was "oh my god, that's so Chaser Game W of them").

Nonetheless, the "Do you think we'll ever get there?" conversation was soooooooo devastatingly acted that I truly can no longer remember why I wanted anything but meowmeow4meowmeow from this ship lolol

Plus, there is something absolutely wonderful and unexpected to me about how their relationship progressed this episode that could not have happened if there were deeper unresolved issues between them. I typically really hate it when crucial backstory is drawn out til the last possible minute for climactic endgame reveal reasons, but that's because it usually does stand in the way of the relationship meaningfully moving forward in a way that won't be erased. So I LOVE how TEM has approached this: Tam is not ready to tell Phi why he left, but the fact that there IS a "why he left", that he is in so much visible pain about it, that he is no longer pretending he was never gone at all or that he didn't hurt Phi, that he's (explicitly!) sorry and he has SOMETHING he wants to tell Tam... that, itself, is a communication. That, itself, is more information than Phi has had for this entire brutal period of his life. Having confirmation that there is a reason Tam chose to leave that is still this hard to articulate surely must reassure Phi on at least some level that it is what we always hope for in these situations: he didn't just fall out of love with me, get bored, and leave without ever looking back. The huge fracture and rift that destroyed my life wasn't exclusively experienced on my side. He's not playing with me when he appears to still feel something for me now; he very possibly never stopped.

So when Phi shamelessly (and this really is his most toxic trait and I am so appreciative that he does still have such toxic traits lol) checks if Tam is ready to let him back in yet despite a lack of real explanation, it honestly makes total emotional sense to me that Tam's answer is "yeah, kind of." Because he doesn't have all the information he needs and deserves, but he has enough to begin babysteps healing, and for the reckless, still-in-love part of his heart to want to start trusting again.

Idk, to me it's just so much more realistic than forcing tension and distance until the climactic reveal scene. I really relate a lot to Phi as a character because what I always crave most is information and answers, it is the uncertainty that drives me insane and makes me unable to trust or move on. And I just love when characters communicate in ways that aren't a direct conversation. I think this would be such a frustrating series for me if Tam was pushing himself up against Phi every other minute without any actual communication happening, but I paradoxically love it when it becomes a kind of nonverbal communication. I can't tell you why I left, yet, but I can show you over and over and over again that I want to be here with you, that I never actually stopped.

Which also makes it SO MUCH FUN!!! that the premise for the next episode is they have to fake-date in front of Phi's mom, play act what it would have looked like to never break up, when neither of them actually wanted to break up in the first place, or stopped loving the other. I can't waittttttt.

[drawingrainbowsonthewalls]

Episodic Water Dependency [Disorder] [EpWD or EWDD]

Definition: A disorder characterized by having episodes of extreme water dependency that cause discomfort, distress, stress, and/or depressive thoughts, feelings, or actions. These emotions often result in impulsive or compulsive actions in order to be in, near, or consume water/another liquid. [this could also be used as a symptom or aspect of another disorder]

[tw: mentions sh and suicide below]

[Ones Dependent Liquid or DL may vary however this Disorder was made with water in mind… you could call it ELDD, Episodic Liquid Dependency Disorder if you wish or if that fits better]

Symptoms/Criteria:

      1) Distress, discomfort, dysfunction, stress, or dysphoria when one has not been in, near, or in—some cases—consumed water/their DL[dependent liquid] recently.

      2) Having a strong connection to water or your DL[dependent liquid] that may intertwine with various aspects of ones identity.

      3) during an episode being unable to function/experiencing a difficulty in functioning when one has not come in contact with water or their DL[dependent liquid] for short or extended periods of time [this can be as long as a month or as short as a few minutes].

      4) [If one experiences sensory differences] having ones sensory issues get worse during episodes where they have not had contact with water or their DL for an extended or short time. 

      6) experiencing depressive episodes, suicidal and/or self-harm induced thoughts/actions, or similar during/as a result of water dependency episodes. One could also turn to water/their DL for the answer/solution to problems. 

      7) Having these symptoms and experiences be more extreme than typical water/liquid dependency. 

      8) noticing episodic patterns for at least 3 months; an episode, worsening of symptoms, or development of this disorder may occur for a variety of reasons such as external factors like stress or fear as well as internal factors such as self-esteem, brain chemical levels, and/or other mental health problems. 

      9) Fear or distress caused by being dirty or feeling like your dirty even if you’ve recently showered, bathed, or washed off.

Possible causes, triggers, and risks:

      1) The cause/causes for this disorder are unknown however possible causes may include:

           - Neglect

           - Being without proper ways to clean/clean oneself fro extended periods of time

           - Low-self-esteem or poor mental health

           - Paranoia or a fear of germs

      2) You may be more at risk if you have another mental health disorder/syndrome such as Major Depressive Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, OCD, DPD, PTSD, etc. etc.

      3) Common triggers for an episode include but are not limited to; overwhelming / intense emotions, stressful and / or traumatic events, being away from running water / water / their DL, being unable to wash yourself, etc.

      4) Some of the possible risks that come with EpWD[D] is:

            -  Becoming overly dependent on water/your DL and running the risk of it becoming an addiction.

            -  Being unable to function or get work done because of distress, stress, or discomfort surrounding feeling messy/unkempt  -OR- being unable to work or function because you’re too caught up cleaning yourself and surroundings. 

            -  A disconnection in relationships as they don’t/wouldn’t understand and/or feeling too stress/distressed/uncomfortable to make strong bonds and connections

This term can be used by anyone // we have no DNI so neither do our coins // please follow your own DNI

As long as you use this term in good faith [genuinely, not as a joke or troll] we will have no problems as it is not our place to tell you what to do.

if this term or something similar has been coined prior to this consider it a recoin / redesign as we often do not know or realize

[evidence-based-activism]

I’m really tired of seeing all the ‘PCOS is an intersex disorder’ posts and think they’re extremely offensive to women with PCOS.

Please can you clarify that it is not (or if it miraculously is, I guess.)

Hello! You're correct PCOS is not an "intersex disorder".

First, what is an "intersex disorder"?

Currently, to my knowledge, there's a shift towards using disorders/differences of sex development (DSDs) rather than "intersex".

A DSD is a very specific group of medical conditions which is "restricted to those conditions in which chromosomal sex is inconsistent with phenotypic sex, or in which the phenotype is not classifiable as either male or female" [1].

The possible point of confusion is "phenotypic sex", in this context, this refers to primary sex characteristics (internal and external genitalia) not secondary sex characteristics (breast growth, hair growth, etc.). This is important because both primary sex characteristics and DSDs are present from birth. Although, in some cases, they may not be identified until later in life, they are still present at birth.

How does this relate to PCOS?

Polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS) is a condition that only affects female people that affects secondary sex characteristics (e.g., cause male-pattern hair growth/loss). It can also affect the function of primary sex characteristics (e.g., cause infertility), but it does not affect the development or appearance of primary sex characteristics. [2]

Therefore,

Women with PCOS do not have a mismatch in genotypic (chromosomal) sex and phenotypic sex (primary sex organs). That is, they have XX chromosomes without any Y-chromosome translocations and a female-typical vulva/ovaries/uterus/etc. The fact that women with PCOS have irregular periods does not negate the fact that their uterus developed normally. In other words, problems with organ function are not equivalent to problems with organ structure/development.

They also do not have ambiguous genitalia; they have female-typical sex organs at birth. Notably, female-typical has a wider range than the commonly held (and misogynistic) “ideal”, but in all cases they are clearly identifiable as a vulva rather than a penis/scrotum.

The age of onset of PCOS is anytime after puberty, and therefore, not at birth. It is an endocrine (hormonal) condition, and no more a DSD than ovarian hyperthecosis, hypothyroidism, or hyperprolactinemia which all produce similar symptoms to PCOS (among many other conditions). [3-5]

Despite claims to the contrary, women with PCOS do not have "male-typical" testosterone levels. The average testosterone level is actually well within the healthy female range and even the upper-end of the PCOS range is around half the lower-limit of the healthy male range. This makes the primary evidentiary claim for PCOS being a DSD (i.e., "testosterone levels between men and women!") invalid. (This claim is also based on the incorrect, and intersexist, belief that people with a DSD are "between" or "neither" male or female.) [6]

All other arguments I can find for PCOS being a DSD appear to be based on:

The belief that we must expand the definition of DSDs to prevent discrimination. This is both logically inconsistent (i.e., we have no evidence that increasing the size of a minority group would reduce discrimination) and philosophically concerning (i.e., this rests on the belief/assumption that we can/should do nothing to reduce discrimination of very rare minority groups).

People's feelings about having PCOS/beliefs about people's feelings about having PCOS. This is wrapped up in postmodernist worldviews, and essentially posits that if people feel they are "between" sexes they should be treated as if they are, despite no material evidence supporting this feeling. (And, again, this also rests on the incorrect and intersexist belief that people with a DSD are "between" sexes.)

A related belief that that if people identify as intersex, we must affirm this identity. Again, this is wrapped up in the same postmodernist worldview, and all the standard criticisms apply.

Conclusion

All in all, there is no medical or material evidence that PCOS is a DSD. The philosophical arguments to the contrary relies postmodernist logic that rejects reality in favor of identity and being in favor of feeling. These arguments also rely on offensive stereotypes and beliefs about people with DSDs/intersex people.

I hope this helps you, Anon!

References below the cut:

Sax, L. (2002). How common is lntersex? A response to Anne Fausto‐Sterling. Journal of sex research, 39(3), 174-178.

PCOS (Polycystic Ovary Syndrome): Symptoms & Treatment. Cleveland Clinic, https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/8316-polycystic-ovary-syndrome-pcos.

Shah, Sanket, et al. “Diagnostic Challenges in Ovarian Hyperthecosis: Clinical Presentation with Subdiagnostic Testosterone Levels.” Case Reports in Endocrinology, vol. 2022, Jan. 2022, p. 9998807. pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov, https://doi.org/10.1155/2022/9998807.

“Hypothyroidism (Underactive Thyroid).” Cleveland Clinic, https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/12120-hypothyroidism.

“Hyperprolactinemia: What It Is, Causes, Symptoms & Treatment.” Cleveland Clinic, https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/22284-hyperprolactinemia.

Clark, Richard V., et al. “Large Divergence in Testosterone Concentrations between Men and Women: Frame of Reference for Elite Athletes in Sex‐specific Competition in Sports, a Narrative Review.” Clinical Endocrinology, vol. 90, no. 1, Jan. 2019, pp. 15–22. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1111/cen.13840.

[ak-vintage]

Quarry - Chapter 5

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: Reader is Mando's bounty, second-person POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, starship mechanics, unresolved sexual tension, canon-typical violence, descriptions of blood and injuries, minor peril, hurt/comfort, Din speaks Mando'a

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

As you had experienced on your first jaunt with the Mandalorian, time seemed to have little meaning while the Razor Crest was in hyperspace. You could sense it passing in the intervals between the sensations of hunger rumbling in your stomach, between the periods of heaviness in your eyes, but other than those persistent bodily demands, the inky blackness of space was omnipresent. You had been a space dweller for most of your life, so the lack of external cues as to the hour or the day was not exactly new to you, but in the shipyards, everything had operated with an almost militaristic adherence to schedule. Chronometers set to mimic the time of day in Chardaan’s capitol city had been placed prominently in every barrack, every mess hall, every hangar bay, and shift change was marked with a blaring siren that echoed across the entire space station system every eight hours. It had been impossible to lose track of time in such a structured environment.

Life on the Crest could not have been more different. The bounty hunter had not been exaggerating when he told you that he was used to going long periods of time without sleep, and as he had indicated in one of your first interactions, he would not eat in front of others, making it nearly impossible for you to tell when the last time was that he had consumed food. As for Grogu, although the Mandalorian had revealed that he was much older than he appeared, he still seemed to have the biological needs of a toddler. He napped often and snacked even more so. Both of your companions were, therefore, poor references for the passage of time.

For the first leg of your journey, from Tatooine to Ryloth, you found yourself spending the majority of the trip in one of the copilot seats in the cockpit, Grogu nestled snugly in your lap. Mando had graciously given you access to the Razor Crest’s internal computer, and you busied yourself running system diagnostics while the hyperdrive hummed in the background. There wasn’t much that your analyses with Peli hadn’t uncovered about the ship’s health, but there was something to be said for running such analyses while in hyperspace, so you appreciated the opportunity to take a more thorough look “under the hood.”

As you had expected, the bounty hunter wasn’t exactly the most talkative travel companion. You had attempted to fill the silence by peppering him with questions about your destination, and while he never outright ignored you, his answers were brief, three- or four-word things that made it clear that he preferred the quiet, so you didn’t push the matter. Instead, you filled your time in between diagnostics playing quietly with Grogu and trying to keep him from fiddling with the buttons and dials on the console in front of you.

When your eyelids started to feel leaden and you found yourself beginning to nod off in your seat, you passed the snoozing child into Mando’s arms and excused yourself to the cargo hold, and before you could allow yourself to think too hard about it, you slid off your work boots and clamored into the ship’s singular sleeping bunk. The mattress was thin, and there were no blankets to speak of, but the pillow was soft, and the whole alcove was steeped in a deeply comforting scent – warm, spiced, and male.

You fell asleep curled on your side, the Mandalorian’s pillow cradled against your face and a hot blush warming your neck. It was the most restful sleep you had gotten in recent memory.

___

You landed on Ryloth what felt like a few hours later, touching down in the shadow of a craggy rock outcropping which Mando insisted would help keep the Razor Crest from drawing any unwanted attention while he was away. Nonetheless, he took some time before he left to show you how to engage the ship’s ground defense systems, and you agreed to activate them once he was out of range. He left with very little ceremony after that – he strapped his preferred brown satchel across his body, murmured something soft in a language you didn’t recognize to Grogu, dropped a comm link into your hand for emergencies, and then he left.

On that first hunt, Mando was gone for four days.

As he trekked through the planet’s many underground cave systems on the trail of his quarry, you took the opportunity to turn the Crest’s stores upside down inventorying the tools, spare parts, and mechanical supplies you would have to work with while you were traveling with him. Grogu stayed strapped to your back for much of this work, and when he got bored and started to squirm, you filled the silence by reciting to him fairytales and nursery rhymes from your childhood. You spent the evenings picnicking cross-legged on the deck of the cargo hold, fresh fruit and self-heating ration packs spread between you, and when you went to sleep at night, Grogu slept in his hammock above you, filling the bunk with gentle, contented snores.

By the time the comm link crackled to life with Mando’s voice telling you that he had the quarry in tow and would be back to the Razor Crest within the hour, you had created both a list of upgrade projects you could complete with the ship’s current supplies as well as a wish list of things you planned to ask him to pick up for you at the next available parts supplier.

You kept Grogu clutched close to your chest when the blast doors hissed open and the gangplank extended, hovering near the ladder into the cockpit just in case. Thankfully, as expected, it was only Mando, a stiffness in his shoulders and his blaster trained on a middle-aged, green-skinned Twi’lek in binder cuffs. The bounty was walking with a pronounced limp, and the left side of his face was scuffed and bruised, as though he had slid along the ground on it at some point. His gaze met yours for a brief moment, his black eyes bloodshot and cold, and you watched him pause at the top of the ramp and raise an interested eyebrow as he took you in.

“Keep moving,” Mando growled.

An involuntary shiver shot through you at the sound, his voice dark and commanding through his helmet vocoder, and you took a step back as the bounty hunter prodded the Twi’lek between his shoulder blades with the barrel of his blaster. His eyes immediately dropped to the ground, chastened, and he took the final remaining steps into the Razor Crest’s cargo hold.

And then, without another word, Mando immediately backed the distracted quarry into the carbonite unit and slapped the control panel.

The device flared to life, spewing its signature mixture of dense gases into the chamber. You watched, your eyes wide, as the Twi’lek let out a shriek of pain at the icy pressure, and your hand flew up to cover the back of Grogu’s head protectively, suddenly determined to keep his face pressed against your neck and turned away from the scene before you.

By the time the impenetrable fog of the gas mix began to dissipate, the carbonite panels had settled. The flat, gray metal molded grotesquely over the anguished face of the Twi’lek, now indefinitely suspended in time.

After a beat of deafening silence, Mando turned to you and bowed his head in approval. “It works,” he said bluntly. “Well done.”

You swallowed audibly, your head spinning. He was right, your repairs had worked. That was an inarguable success, and there was a part of you that felt that triumph – that thrill at the praise for a job well done. However, that thrill contrasted sharply with the sinking sensation in your stomach. That scream… Had you sounded like that, when Mando had attempted to freeze you?

You couldn’t seem to tear your eyes from the Twi’lek’s matte, gray face.

The bounty hunter seemed to notice your hesitation then, and with something like caution in his steps, he crossed the cargo hold to stand in front of you, blocking your view.

You stared at his breastplate instead.

“You did well,” Mando repeated, his voice earnest and almost gentle. “My bounties cannot be allowed to wander the ship freely. It’s not safe for the kid. Or for you.”

You took a deep, shuddering breath, and stroked your fingers across Grogu’s soft, downy head. “I know. I know, you’re right. It’s just…” You tilted your chin up to look at the Mandalorian then, gazing at your own warped reflection in the inky black surface of his visor. “He’ll be all right, won’t he?”

“I’ve never lost a bounty that was put in stasis still alive. He might end up with some hibernation sickness, but he’ll recover,” he replied.

You nodded wordlessly. Hibernation sickness rarely lasted more than a day, and even when it did, it was very rarely fatal. Still, you appreciated the reminder.

“Let me take the kid – why don’t you get us out of the atmosphere?” he offered in that same even, soft voice. “I’ll get the bounty out of the chamber and onto the storage rack.”

You nodded again, a wave of relief softening your grip on Grogu’s tiny body. Releasing a breath you didn’t know you had been holding, you passed the child into the bounty hunter’s waiting arms and scurried up the ladder to the cockpit without a second glance.

It had been ages since you had piloted a vessel, but you felt as though you could do it blindfolded. With smooth, practiced motions, you completed your flight pre-checks, confirmed that the blast doors were closed and the ramp retracted, and flipped on the twin engines. The low vibration of the deck plating beneath the soles of your boots was grounding, and as you settled into Mando’s pilot chair, you felt your heartrate dropping. With hardly another thought, you smoothly lifted the Razor Crest off of the rocky ground, retracted the landing gear, and set her on an ascension path through the atmosphere and into the surrounding star system.

___

After that first hunt, you found it easier to fall into a loose routine, one governed not by the time on the chronometer or the date on the calendar, but rather by the day’s primary activity.

Travel days, rocketing through deep space in between quarries, were spent in the cockpit. As most of your maintenance work required the hyperdrive to be offline for your own safety, there was very little for you to do while the Razor Crest jumped from planet to planet. You often found yourself curled up in the co-pilot seat behind Mando, playing games and singing songs to keep both yourself and Grogu occupied. The bounty hunter seemed to tolerate this for the most part, though you could tell when he found your antics particularly grating, as he would sigh quietly, flip on the autopilot, and excuse himself to the cargo hold, where you would find him later either napping in the bunk or cleaning one of his many firearms.

Of course, you never failed to give him a hard time about this, implying that a big, tough Mandalorian such as himself ought to be able to handle a few hours of high-pitched giggling and children’s songs. He never dignified your ribbing with a reply, but once or twice, you thought you might have heard the huff of a soft laugh through his helmet. It gave you a strange lightness in your chest every time.

Hunting days were spent on your own up to your elbows in the bowels of the Razor Crest. With the old gunship on solid land, you were able to turn systems off and on at your leisure, making for a much safer and more efficient workflow. On these days, Grogu was your little, green shadow, following you around and watching your every move with wide eyes. You took to filling the silence by narrating what you were doing and providing explanations as to why. You weren’t certain how many starship maintenance skills the kid was picking up on – you weren’t even certain he fully understood Basic – but if his eager face and wiggling ears were any indication, at least he enjoyed himself.

Then there were “Mando comes back” days, which were always the most tumultuous, as they involved adding another frozen body to the ever-growing collection of carbonite slabs taking up more and more space on a rack in the cargo hold. These days would typically start with a communication from Mando saying he was nearing the Razor Crest’s docking location, but occasionally, the only warning you would have of his impending return would be the ship’s ground proximity sensors blaring from the cockpit.

You had learned that this often meant that Mando was dragging an incapacitated bounty, making it difficult for him to use his comm link.

On one such occasion, you and Grogu were sitting across from each other on the floor of the cargo hold, as you often did, splitting a simple lunch of rehydrated bread and a self-heating ration pack of stew when the proximity sensors sounded, high pitched and shrill. Grogu started, his bug-like eyes wide, and your heart jumped into your throat at the sound. You were on your feet in an instant and quickly began gathering up the remnants of your meal to clear the floor.

Once everything was either tossed in the refuse recycler or tucked back away in cool storage, you bent down and scooped the now-whining child into your arms. “C’mon, kiddo, up you go. You know the drill,” you murmured, bouncing him gently on your hip. Crossing the narrow space, you pressed the control panel to open the bunk alcove. “You’re just going to hang out in here until Mando takes care of the bounty. I’ll come get you as soon as he’s done, promise.” You settled him carefully into his little hammock that hung above the narrow bunk, adding, “Be good now.”

You closed the alcove then, swallowing back a pang of guilt. Grogu wasn’t a rowdy pet; you didn’t savor the idea of putting him away like this. But it was undeniably safer to have a layer of durasteel between him and the quarry, and based on previous experience, you had a feeling that the Mandalorian might need a second pair of hands – hands you couldn’t lend him if they were full of a little green toddler.

Not a moment later, the blast doors were sliding open, the gangplank was extending, and you laid eyes on the bounty hunter in question. You swore under your breath, and your feet started carrying you in his direction before you could think better of it.

His typically flawless beskar armor was streaked with mud, blaster marks, and something dark and crusty that you realized had to be drying blood. His steps were slow and labored, landing heavily on the ramp as he made his way up, and he appeared to be favoring his right side. Behind him, he was dragging the unconscious form of a male Devaronian, one you immediately recognized from the bounty puck Mando had shown you before his departure.

The bounty’s russet skin was littered with deep, mottled bruises, and he sported a swollen, bleeding lip, split knuckles on both hands, and a blaster burn on his abdomen. His own blaster holster hung empty from his thick, trunk-like thigh, and his limbs were caked in mud.

You were halfway down the ramp in an instant, falling into step beside the Mandalorian and grabbing onto one of the Devaronian’s legs.

“Where’s – ” Mando began to rasp, his voice strained and thin, but you shook your head and cut him off.

“He’s safe – he’s in the bunk,” you reassured him quickly. “Let me help you.”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to – ”

“I know that,” you insisted. “But you’re hurt. And this guy is a giant. So shut up, and let’s get him inside so we can get you patched up.”

You thought you might have heard a curse filter through his helmet modulator, but thankfully, he stopped protesting, and with both of you throwing all of your weight up the gangplank, you were eventually able to slide the deadweight of the unconscious Devaronian up the ramp and into the ship.

It also took both of your full strength to haul his limp body into the carbonite chamber and prop him up there long enough for the pressurized gases to take over. Once the freezing process was complete, you slumped against the nearest bulkhead and sunk to the cold, metal deck, your chest heaving with your exertion. You were certain that you had never been so relieved to see anyone sealed in carbonite as you were in that instant.

Your moment of respite, however, was short-lived. You watched as Mando staggered back from the carbonite unit, unsteady on his feet, and as you looked him over, you noticed that the spot he had been favoring – that stitch in his right side that seemed to be the source of the all the dried blood – was no longer dry.

He was bleeding again. The dark, padded flight suit under his armor was soaked in it.

“Shit,” you swore, jumping to your feet. “Mando – ”

He held up a hand to you and leaned heavily back against the pile of grey storage bins. “In the med kit. The cautery. Bring it to me.”

“A cautery?” you echoed in disbelief. You could feel sweat breaking out on your neck and forehead at the mere thought. “We definitely have a few bacta shots – why would you want a cautery?”

“Those are for…emergencies.” You watched as his breastplate rose and fell heavily. You could hear his harsh breathing through his helmet, an almost staticky panting sound that you had never heard before.

“What exactly do you call this?” you demanded, your eyes wide and your voice rising a few octaves in your distress.

Mando had returned from hunts injured before. You had almost begun to expect it. A bump here, a scrape there, some stiff muscles, a bruise from taking a hit on his beskar. But this? You had never seen him bleed like this. You hadn’t even been certain that he could.

It was a startling realization, to suddenly know beyond a shadow of a doubt that under all of that armor and honor and stoicism, he was just a man.

The Mandalorian shook his head at you then. “Not…an emergency. I’m fine. I just need to…close this. The cautery. Now.”

You bit your lip, hesitating. “Fine,” you conceded. You started digging through the ship’s supply storage then, rooting for the med kit in question. “But I’m doing it.”

“I can do it myself,” Mando rasped.

You dismissed his protests quickly. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a much better welder than you. Cautery’s basically the same thing, right? Just…flesh, not metal.” You tossed him a tight smile over your shoulder at your attempt at levity, knowing it didn’t quite reach your eyes. The Mandalorian simply leveled you with what felt like an incredulous stare, as though you had shocked any possibility of a retort right out of him.

After another moment of searching, your hands landed on the med kit. You made a little triumphant noise at the discovery and turned back to him finally. “Take off your cuirass,” you commanded brusquely, gesturing to his breast and back plates. “I need to get that flight suit jacket open.”

The bounty hunter continued to stare at you, unmoving. You watched him ball up his fists in silent reluctance, and you cocked your head at him, confused.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to you.

You had never seen Mando without his armor on before.

Growing up, like many children across the galaxy, you had been told stories of the Mandalorians. You had learned of their fierceness in battle, their unparalleled skill with weaponry, and their dedication to their code of honor, their Creed. You had also heard that some Mandalorians believed that in order to keep that Creed, one must keep their helmet on at all times and never reveal their face to another. You had never asked Mando explicitly – it had never seemed appropriate to do so – but now, you wondered. Was it possible this belief extended to his body armor, too?

“Is…is that okay?” you asked, unexpectedly tentative. “You can keep your helmet on. And the rest of your armor. Or I…I can leave if you’d rather have some privacy.”

Mando held your gaze for several, long moments then. You could see the weight of this choice in the stiff set of his shoulders and the straining, black leather of his gloves over his knuckles. Not for the first time, you wished you could see his face, if only to read his expression, to get even an inkling as to what he was thinking. You seemed to have unknowingly stepped on a landmine, and though there was a part of you that usually took a perverse satisfaction in pushing his buttons, you crossed your fingers that your ignorance in this instance hadn’t made him genuinely uncomfortable.

Just as you were about to back-track your offer and hand the cautery over to him, the Mandalorian sighed raggedly and nodded. “Fine,” he finally replied, the tension in his voice plain. “Just the cuirass.”

You were quick to nod back to him reassuringly. “Of course, that’s all I need.”

With cautious, labored movements, Mando began to shed the clothing covering his chest – first, his leather bandolier, then his beskar breastplate and matching back piece, and finally, a piece you had never really noticed before – a black, padded bib that covered both his chest and back and connected at the shoulders. As each piece was peeled away, it became even more apparent that the dark, rugged fabric of his flight suit jacket was thoroughly soaked in blood, not just where you could see the wound, red and angry through the torn material, but across his chest and down to his utility belt, as though it had been pooling beneath his armor for quite some time.

You wondered silently exactly how far he had traveled with this wound, how many miles he had dragged the unconscious body of his quarry while in such a state. It sent a cold chill down your spine to think about.

“Go ahead,” he said roughly once each piece was set off to the side. “Do what you need to do.”

You swallowed thickly, your heart hammering in your chest as you came to stand in front of him. “I’ll be as quick as I can,” you promised. Taking a deep, centering breath to stop your hands from shaking with nerves, you reached out and slid the zipper of his flight suit jacket down.

Taking great care not to touch him more than was necessary, you swept each half of the garment to the side as far as it would go, revealing as much of his bare torso as you could manage. The fabric was coarse, warm from his body heat, and damp on your fingertips, and you tried to keep your gaze from focusing too closely on the deep red now staining your skin.

The wound looked somehow even more unpleasant now that it was uncovered. A thick, jagged line about two inches across had been scored into his skin across his right side, starting near the bottom of his ribcage and extending up and diagonally to a point about six inches below his armpit. Even through the blood, you could see that the surrounding skin and muscle had been heavily bruised, and you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of weapon would have caused an injury like this.

You looked up at him then, making eye contact as best as you could through the blackness of his T-shaped helmet visor. Keeping your voice steady and composed, you said, “Okay, deep breath, Mando – here we go.”

You watched as his broad chest expanded with as deep of a breath as he could manage, and with a confidence you weren’t certain you felt, you placed one hand flat against his ribcage to stabilize the wound, flipped on the cautery, and set it to his skin.

The cautery sparked and seared, and you gritted your teeth against the sickening smell of burning flesh as you felt Mando’s obliques seize beneath your touch. You started at the top of the gouge and slowly, painstakingly dragged the tool down the length of it. This close to him, you could hear his ragged breathing as well as a low groan that didn’t quite make it past his helmet vocoder. His skin was hot and slick with sweat and blood under your hands, and you made a mental note to get him a cold, wet cloth to wipe down with when you were finished.

“Halfway there,” you murmured after a moment, watching the once raw injury crust over as it burned beneath the cautery. Although you had been joking earlier, you found this experience to be shockingly similar to welding, and somehow, that allowed you to sink into a place of calm concentration.

“Dank farrik,” Mando swore breathlessly, as though he were clenching his jaw.

“I know, I’ve got you. We’re almost done, I promise.” Words of comfort seemed to flow from you so naturally you were hardly aware of saying them until after they had already left your mouth, and you could hear them echo in the air. You felt a faint flush rise up your chest at that, but with a quick shake of your head, you pushed away any sensations of embarrassment. The task at hand deserved your full attention.

You would unpack your immediate and thoughtless urge to offer the Mandalorian soothing reassurance another time.

Finally, after another minute of tense silence but for Mando’s labored gasping, you reached the end of the wound. Flicking the cautery off, you let out a deep, shaky breath and took a step back.

“Stay put. I’ll be right back,” you said softly. Leaving him to collect himself, you crossed the cargo hold to the space you had cordoned off around the ship head to serve as a makeshift ‘fresher. There was a bin you had taken to keeping in there filled with Mando’s meager collection of linens, and you grabbed a rag from the top of the pile without a thought. After a bit of rummaging, you found a vacuum-sealed pack of sterilized saline solution in the med kit and used it to soak the rag.

The bounty hunter seemed to have caught his breath by the time you made it back to him. He was still leaning heavily back against one of the gray storage bins, his legs stretched out in front of him and his arms holding the weight of his upper body. His helmeted head hung limply on his neck, his chin resting on his chest, and his blood-stained jacket still gaped open, revealing the entirety of his trunk.

You cleared your throat a bit to get his attention, and he looked up at you, weariness evident in his posture. “Here,” you nearly whispered, extending the soaking rag to him. “To clean up.”

He inclined his head in your direction and accepted it. “Thank you.” With a bit of effort, he pulled himself into a slightly more upright position and began dragging the cloth over the freshly-cauterized wound and across his abdomen.

As the dark red stains dissolved under the saline solution, streaks of warm, golden tanned skin appeared. The sight made your breath come short in your chest, and while something in the back of your mind screamed at you to look away, to give the man a moment of privacy, the fascination that skin inspired in you was stronger.

You had known that he was broad, but a part of you had assumed that his impressive figure was due to the bulk added by his armor. That was certainly part of it, but now, with his torso exposed to you like this, you realized that most of it was natural. His shoulders and chest were wide and well-muscled, and his waist and hips were a touch narrower, cutting a masculine silhouette that caused heat to rise in your face. Dark, fine hair dusted between his pecs and down the center line of his abdomen, there was just a touch of softness to his belly, and his skin was littered with scars of all shapes and sizes. As he dragged the wet cloth across himself, you watched as rivulets of saline dripped down his body, catching and pooling in those scars in a way that made you want to reach out and follow them with your fingers. You had to ball your fists up at your sides to keep yourself from doing so.

It occurred to you then that the Mandalorian was not just as man, as you had thought earlier. He was, in fact, an incredibly attractive man.

The wayward thought ignited a fierce blush in your face and neck, and you tore your gaze away from his exposed skin in response. A rush of guilt and shame flooded your body as you stared at the deck plating. Mando had just been through combat and had been injured badly. Taking advantage of that situation to…ogle his body was completely disrespectful and inappropriate. Not to mention your status as his bounty, his captive, someone he would be trading for credits in the coming weeks.

Such thoughts were entirely unacceptable given the circumstances.

By the time you managed to muster up the courage to glance back up at him, the Mandalorian had finished cleansing the blood from his skin and had zipped his flight suit jacket closed once again. Although clearly exhausted, he appeared much calmer, the worst of the pain from the cauterization fading.

“Thank you again,” he rasped when he caught your eyes. “That helped.”

“Of course. It’s hard to do stuff like that on your own,” you replied, your voice soft. “Happy I was here to help.”

A beat of silence passed between you before you asked, “What did that to you? I’ve never seen an injury like that before – it was too…jagged to be a blade.”

“Not a blade,” he confirmed. “One of the bounty’s horns. I disarmed him, and he tackled me instead. Barely got out of the way in time. I’m lucky only one of them got me.”

You felt your eyes widen, and you spared a glance over your shoulder at the frozen face of the Devaronian, suspended in time unconscious and beaten. His species’ characteristic horns were clearly visible through the opaque sheet of carbonite, and you shuddered at the thought of one of those fierce-looking appendages ripping through one of the only spots on Mando’s body not protected by armor.

“That’s horrifying,” you said, at a loss for any other words.

Mando nodded once but chose not to acknowledge your comment. “You can go get the kid now, if you’re ready,” he said. “He can always tell when I’m…injured. He’ll want to make sure I’m all right.”

You startled a bit at that. In the intensity of the last several minutes, you had completely forgotten about Grogu, sealed away inside the bunk alcove. “Yes! I’ll bring him to you right now,” you said quickly.

Grogu was, of course, thrilled to be let out of the bunk – when you slid the door open, he was standing just on the other side, his little three-clawed hands raised as though he had been about to attempt to lift the door himself. He squealed indignantly upon seeing you, and you muttered soft apologies to him as you picked him up and carried him over to where Mando sat.

The child immediately extended his arms toward his guardian as you approached, and you passed him into the Mandalorian’s arms as quickly as you could manage.

“There you are, ad’ika,” he said tenderly, and you felt an almost fond smile tug at the corners of your mouth.

Grogu cooed and babbled for nearly a full minute, the most noise you had ever heard him make at once. He ran his tiny palms over Mando’s chest and abdomen, his batwing ears tugged downward and his wrinkled brow furrowed.

“I’m fine,” he assured. “Vaabir naasad baatir ni.”

“What is that language you speak to him sometimes?” The question was out of your mouth before you could stop it, and the Mandalorian turned his gaze from Grogu to you in surprise.

“Mando’a. The language of my people,” he replied. “He is a Mandalorian foundling. I want him to be able to speak the language when he’s ready.”

You grinned at that. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes. It is.”

“You call him something, too…add-eeka? What does that mean?” you asked, allowing your curiosity to continue.  

Mando looked down at the child again, who seemed much more content now that he had established that his father figure was safe and well. “Ad’ika. It means ‘little one.’ It’s a…a term of endearment.” If you didn’t know better, you would say that a touch of self-consciousness could be heard in his voice.

“That’s very sweet.” Your heart warmed in your chest at the clear affection the rugged bounty hunter had for his ward. It felt as though you would never stop being taken aback by the way he could swing from fierceness to tenderness in the blink of an eye.

“Why don’t I get us out of here, huh?” you offered then, pointing a thumb over your shoulder in the direction of the ladder. “I’ll take the kid with me, and we can stay up there for a while so you can get changed and put your armor back on in privacy.”

“Yes. That would be…appreciated, thank you.”

You offered him a small smile and scooped Grogu up into your arms. “Take your time.”

Once you both were in the cockpit and settled into the pilot’s chair, you again felt your thoughts racing as you flew the Razor Crest up and out of the planet’s atmosphere.

The Mandalorian was…troublesome. The man was both brutal and gentle, aloof and yet kind. A clearly accomplished warrior with a depth of softness to him that continued to surprise you.

The image of his broad, tan torso glistening in the dim cargo hold lights flashed in your mind’s eye, and you gulped, feeling warmth pool in your belly at the vision.

And he was dangerously attractive.  

You resolved then to keep a closer leash on your emotions when you were around him. Your days as his live-in mechanic and babysitter were numbered. It wouldn’t be long before you would be on your way back to Chardaan, your freedom and the weeks spent on the Razor Crest nothing but a distant memory.

It wouldn’t do to get any more attached than you already had. If you weren’t careful, you were going to break your own heart.

___

Mando'a Translations:

ad'ika - little one, son or daughter of any age

Vaabir naasad baatir ni. - Do not worry about me.

[augustjustice]

you wanna feel how it feels (let's exchange the experience) 7/?

start here | Part 6 | AO3

Rating: E (overall; T for this section) | 2.3k for this part of the chapter

Tags: Bodyswap, Friends to Lovers, Slowburn, Getting to Know Each Other, Disabled Eddie Munson, Disabled Steve Harrington, Class Differences, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Bisexual Eddie Munson, Ableism, Jealousy

Summary: After the Spring Break from hell, Eddie and Steve become fast friends, with a possible hint towards something more…except they’re never quite sure what the other is actually thinking. But maybe, just maybe, walking a mile in each other’s shoes can lend them some much needed insight.

Notes: The boys find themselves in a study session with Nancy.

There's discussions and struggles with period-typical ableism about learning disabilities, both internalized and external, in this portion. Next part of the chapter coming later this week!

The public library wasn’t even open on Sunday nights, but that had become the designated meeting spot for his and Nancy’s study sessions anyway. Nancy knew one of the librarians pretty well after long hours researching for both class and her job at the school paper, and she had convinced her to let them come in after hours. Which was honestly one of the most Nancy Wheeler things Eddie had ever heard–all but breaking and entering into a library of all places, with the sole purpose of going over a bunch of flash cards for school. 

She’d even gotten a key out of the whole arrangement, one Eddie had a sneaking suspicion would go suddenly and mysteriously missing around the time their Sunday sessions were scheduled to come to an end. That was the exact kind of thing he’d started to expect from her in the past month–the perfect combination of the nerdy good girl he’d thought he had totally pegged from school versus the wild card he’d quickly learned she could actually be.

They rolled up to the library not long after six, running a little late. Eddie had had to change out of the Scoops uniform, after all, never actually serious when he taunted Steve with the threat of leaving it on. And then Steve’s failed attempts at arguing–Seriously, Eds!–that he could drive the Beemer to the library had been the cause for even further delay. He had been insistent that just so long as he parked in the farthest reaches of the lot, away from prying eyes, no one would be any the wiser. Eddie had a simple, foolproof rebuttal for that, shutting it down with two simple words. 

Nancy. Wheeler. 

Though Steve found himself forced to accept defeat, he’d done so with his fair share of grumbling.

Fortunately, Eddie had never been the most punctual person on the planet, so Nancy didn’t look all that surprised to see Steve jogging up the steps towards her a full ten minutes after their established meeting time. 

The fact that he had Eddie in tow, however, did seem to give her a seconds pause, and this time he found himself on the receiving end of Nancy’s piercing-eyed once over. 

“What are you doing here, Steve?” 

“Can’t a guy just take an interest in his friend’s studies, wanna lend him a helping hand?” Eddie asked with a shrug and a smile, trying to capture Steve’s affable charm. 

The look Nancy sent him was skeptical, and that’s if he was being generous. 

“Just don’t distract him,” she warned, turning to unlock the library door. 

Steve guffawed, clearly insulted. 

“Hey! Come on, that’s like…so not fair. I–He helps me study all the time. After school at the trailer,” he gave Eddie a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Doncha, buddy?”

“That I do,” Eddie agreed. 

In fact, the only real reason Eddie thought they had a chance of pulling this off was because Steve had already gone through these flashcards with Eddie close to a dozen times before. That plus Eddie’s own shitty memory when it came to anything remotely school related would make the perfect scapegoat for any and all of Steve’s slip ups.  

Nancy’s heels clicked sharply against the tile floor as she led them inside, making a beeline for one of the tables tucked into the corner, the space illuminated by the fading sunlight streaming in from the windows. She looked completely in her element as she started spreading out multiple notebooks, a pencil case full of highlighters, and notecards in every conceivable color visible to the human eye. 

By contrast, Eddie was well aware how out of place he–and Steve, now, by association–looked, with nothing but his scuffed up textbook and a spiral notebook between them. Not only that, but said notebook was stuffed with random pages of loose leaf paper, brimming with song lyrics, campaign notes, and assorted doodles scribbled in the margins of nearly all his schoolwork.  

“I’m serious,” Nancy repeated as she sat, no-nonsense. “No goofing off, okay?”

Steve sucked on his lips, looking caught out. “Yeah, Nance, we heard you the first time. We’re just here to study, okay? Steve’s not gonna get up to any funny business, or whatever. Right?”

At Steve’s prompting look, Eddie shot Nancy a reassuring smile. “Hey, man, you’re the boss. Besides,” Reaching over, he mussed his own hair, laughing at the scowl Steve sent him as he tried to comb the unruly curls back into place, “Munson’s usually the one causing a ruckus and stirring up trouble, not me.”

After all, it wasn’t Steve’s fault that his mere presence was enough to distract Eddie, usually. Eddie, on the other hand, drew attention to himself on purpose, with all the bombast of a circus clown, and he could admit to that. 

Nancy shook her head minutely as she started shuffling through the stacks of cards, though her posture was less rigid, suggesting she was at least a little appeased. 

“All I’m saying is–I know what it’s like, when the two of you are together.”

Steve and Eddie’s heads swiveled towards each other in unison, and Eddie felt relieved when it really was like staring into a mirror, Steve looking every bit as baffled as he felt. 

Sure, some of what she said was true. For Eddie, at least. He was especially prone to tomfoolery whenever Steve was around–for good or bad, managing to catch Steve’s eye was intoxicating. 

But how the hell had Nancy, of all people, managed to suss that one out? Was it her reporter’s eye for detail, or some shit?

“Ready?” she prompted expectantly, breezing past their silent communication with all the authority of a school teacher. They could do nothing but nod in answer, earning them one of Nancy’s small, satisfied smiles. “Good. Let’s go ahead and get started, then.”

—

A system quickly fell into place after that, he and Nancy agreeing to trade off quizzing Steve with the cards. Eddie intended to do his best, in the time between reading each card and Steve responding, to repeat both question and answer multiple times in his head. If he could memorize some of the information, that would help make this study session an actual worthwhile use of all their time, instead of just another bit of the same improv theater he and Steve had been forced into all day. 

There was just…one problem. 

Eddie squinted down at the card in his hand. He knew that he was supposed to be looking down at some random WWII factoid, cramming for Mrs. O’Donnell’s upcoming killer final. 

But…each word looked more like a line in one of those word searches at the supermarket, just a scramble of meaningless letters. On the hardest mode possible, too, since Eddie was unable to even pick out the word allegedly hidden among them. And what was worse, the longer he looked, trying mentally to grasp at a string and comprehend it, the more it felt like the letters were shifting around on him. 

He couldn’t help but think of those optical illusion games the teachers used to make them play in elementary school–stare long enough, and the images started to move on the page, burning hidden pictures into your retinas. 

Long moments passed, and, in his frustration, Eddie flapped out his arm so the thin square of paper was at a distance, still trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

“Steve,” Nancy let out an impatient sound, holding her hand out for the note card expectantly, “if you're not going to help, just give them to me. I'll do it.”

“No. No, man, it's not that.” Eddie rubbed at both eyes with his hand, trying to clear them. “Shit, maybe I'm more tired than I thought.”

Steve frowned. “What are you talking about?” 

Even after several rapid blinks, the card still looked the same, an incomprehensible mess. Lifting his head to meet Steve’s eyes, Eddie felt his pulse ratcheting upward as panic started to climb his throat. 

Shit, what if this meant Steve’s brain was rejecting Eddie’s mind, or something? That was really all they needed, for Eddie to have some kind of stroke inside Steve's body. 

“I don't know, dude! The words, they’re all sorta…squiggly on the page?”

Despite the fact that the situation he’d just described clearly warranted it, Steve didn't look all that concerned, not beyond his eyebrows briefly furrowing in confusion. Then, realization dawned on his face. 

“Oh! Right, yeah. That's the uh…” he scratched his pencil over Eddie's side burn, the twist of his mouth sheepish, almost embarrassed, “the dyslex–something?”

At the confused look Nancy shot between them, he faltered.

“A-At least…that's what it sounds like, anyway. We learned about it in Mr. Cooper's biology class junior year.”

“Dyslexia?” Nancy asked.

Steve snapped his fingers at her in confirmation. “Thank you, that's it!”

Mouth pursed, Nancy turned to Eddie. “You never told me about that.”

“I guess it, uh…kinda never came up?” Eddie offered uncertainly, catching Steve's eyes in the hope he could help him out.

Steve nodded in confirmation. He ducked his head immediately afterwards, though, suddenly “absorbed” in Eddie’s notebook as he spun a pencil absently between his fingers. 

“If you'd let me know, I could have adjusted my study guides to better help you,” Nancy chided, frowning. “You wouldn't have needed to struggle so much.”

“Yeah, well, maybe he just didn't want you to look at him like was an even bigger idiot,” Steve murmured. When Eddie glanced over at him, he found Steve pinching the bridge of his nose, still looking down. There was an edge of defensiveness in his voice, but he mostly just sounded…tired. “The way that the teachers all did when they found out.”

Whipping around at his words, Nancy shot Steve a startled glare. “Eddie…what the hell?”

“No, Nance,” Eddie mentally patted himself on the back for remembering to use the nickname, “it's okay. Eddie…he gets it.” When Steve tentatively lifted his head, Eddie locked eyes with him, willing him to hear the earnestness in his words, the understanding. “Teachers–shit, everybody–once they decide something's ‘wrong’ with you, they just…fucking write you off permanently.”

“I would never do that!” Nancy insisted, clearly affronted. “Did you–did you think I would do that?”

Eddie shrugged helplessly. “I mean, guess I was just, uh…worried what you'd think. That’s all.”

“Steve…” she said, all quiet and hurt. 

Shit, Eddie was so not equipped to try and navigate these murky ass waters. Having an awkward conversation with Steve’s ex? As him? In front of Steve? 

Fighting off the demo-bats again might have been easier, and look where that had gotten him.

Thankfully, Steve interjected. “Come on, Wheeler. Can you seriously blame him?” he shrugged, and Eddie recognized that familiar, self-deprecating smile when he saw it, trying to defuse the tension. “Everybody knows you’re the smartest girl in school, yeah? Back in your studying days, he was just trying to, you know…not look stupid in front of you.” 

“Well, I should say so, Eddie boy. Especially since I’m not stupid,” Eddie cocked an eyebrow at him. Steve could try and protest all he wanted, but he would argue him down every time. 

“No, you’re not,” Nancy agreed firmly. Then she chewed her bottom lip, wide blue eyes trained on Eddie. He was pretty sure he had never, in his life, seen Nancy Wheeler look sheepish. “I didn’t…ever mean to make you feel like you were.” 

Steve’s head jerked towards her, expression taken aback. 

Christ, were Steve and Nancy, having, like…a moment? Eddie’s skin prickled uncomfortably, stomach churning at the thought. He felt like an interloper in a conversation that he now, because of their extraordinarily weird circumstances, found himself at the center of. 

Eyes darting back and forth between them, he said awkwardly, “Uh…it’s cool.” 

Even though he wasn’t sure it was–and it absolutely wasn’t his place to say, one way or the other–what else could he really do?

Steve, ever the hero, thankfully swooped in to his rescue. 

“You know, I seriously never thought I’d see the day you apologized, Wheeler.” He elbowed Eddie lightly in the side, inviting him in on the joke. “Stevie told me you used to be pretty ridiculously insistent about that whole ‘always being right’ thing.” 

“Shut up, I am not!” Nancy reached out and swatted lightly at them both, but there was a laugh in her voice, the mood around them lightening again. 

Eddie held up his hands with a shrug, before leaning back in his chair, the picture of cool and casual. “Just calling it like I see it, Nance.”

“So, you two smarty pants gonna help me study for this big final, or what?” Despite the fact that he was tapping into a bit of Eddie’s particular brand of teasing bravado, the smile Steve sent them both was warm, grateful. 

Nancy hummed, the wheels in her head turning. “How about this? I’ll read off the questions, and, if you need a little extra time and help, you can talk over your answer with Steve?”

“Hell yeah!” After pumping his fist into the air in an imitation Eddie was pretty sure came straight out of The Breakfast Club, Steve slung a friendly arm around his shoulders. “We could totally do that. You’ll be, like, my…trusty knight guy, Stevie! Here to help me, uh–” he snapped his fingers together, “slay the dragon that is history class.”

Eddie made sure to huff, even as he leaned into the warmth of their bodies pressed close together. “That’s all-star captain to you, Munson. But, uh–yeah. I think we can manage that.”

Nancy shook her head, though her smile didn’t falter. “Right. Well, let’s see…” 

As she flipped over the notecard in her hand and began to read the next question, Eddie tried not to notice the way Steve kept sneaking looks at her, a mix of relief, surprise, and something like awe plain on his face. 

Taglist below! As always, if you’d liked to be added or removed, please just let me know:

@tinytalkingtina @eriquin @spectrum-spectre @grimweathers @highkingpenny

@yesdangerpls @vthx @queenie-ofthe-void @pearynice @felixir-of-moths

@stevesworldxx @themellowyellowmomma @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @anne-bennett-cosplayer

@sidekick-hero @thefreakandthehair @hbyrde36 @lingeringmirth @too-efn-old-to-be-here

@ellietheasexylibrarian @sharingisntkaren @a-lovely-craziness

[cardiacreports2]

Paramedic Incident Report

Incident Number: 2024-19245 Date: December 6, 2024 Time of Call: 15:23

Incident Location: ClimbX Indoor Gym, 345 Summit Street, Boulder, CO

Patient Information:

Name: Daniel Carson

Age: 20

Gender: Male

Height: 5'11"

Weight: 165 lbs

Physical Description: Lean and muscular build with well-defined arms and torso typical of an experienced climber. Short dark brown hair, light complexion.

Description of Incident: At 15:23, dispatch received a 911 call reporting a young male climber had collapsed while bouldering at an indoor climbing facility. The patient was reportedly scaling a mid-level climb when witnesses described him suddenly clutching his chest, losing his grip, and falling to the mat below. He was unresponsive upon initial assessment by gym staff.

Initial Assessment Upon Arrival (15:30):

Level of Consciousness: Unresponsive

Pulse: Absent

Respiratory Effort: None

Skin Condition: Pale, cool, and clammy

Pupils: Fixed and dilated

Bystanders reported that staff initiated CPR immediately after the collapse and delivered one shock using the facility's automated external defibrillator (AED).

Treatment at Scene (15:30-15:45):

CPR: High-quality chest compressions continued upon paramedics’ arrival.

Airway Management: Airway secured with a bag-valve mask; oxygen at 15 L/min.

AED Analysis: AED advised one additional shock, which was administered at 15:35. Return of spontaneous circulation (ROSC) achieved at 15:37.

Vital Signs Post-ROSC:

Pulse: Weak and irregular at 45 bpm

Blood Pressure: 80/50 mmHg

Respiration: Shallow and labored at 10 breaths/min

Oxygen Saturation: 78%

Transport Summary (15:45-16:00): Patient was loaded into the ambulance for transport to St. Anthony's Hospital. During transport, the patient exhibited further signs of cardiac distress. At 15:50, he experienced ventricular fibrillation (VF).

Intervention: CPR resumed, epinephrine 1 mg administered IV, and defibrillation attempted twice.

Outcome: No ROSC achieved after second cardiac arrest.

Time of Death: 16:00

Remarks: The patient suffered two cardiac arrests within a 30-minute period, likely indicative of a severe underlying cardiac condition. Efforts to stabilize were unsuccessful due to continued arrhythmias and compromised circulation.

Autopsy Report

Case Number: 2024-AU-1245 Date of Examination: December 7, 2024 Time of Examination: 09:00

Name: Daniel Carson Age: 20 Height: 5'11" Weight: 165 lbs Sex: Male Race: Caucasian

External Examination:

General Appearance: Well-developed and muscular young male. No evidence of external trauma except for mild abrasions on the back of hands and forearms, consistent with climbing activities. Skin pale with slight cyanosis around the lips and nail beds.

Scars/Marks: None significant.

Tattoos: None noted.

Clothing: Patient arrived wearing climbing shorts and a tank top.

Internal Examination:

Cardiovascular System:

Heart: Enlarged, weighing 420 grams (average for age/weight: 300-350 grams).

Valves: Mitral valve revealed significant calcification and fibrosis, indicative of a congenital defect. The defective valve exhibited stenosis, which restricted blood flow and created turbulent circulation.

Coronary Arteries: Severe occlusion (95%) of the left anterior descending (LAD) artery due to atherosclerotic plaque.

Myocardium: Evidence of acute ischemic changes and scarring, suggesting prior silent infarctions. The ventricular walls were thickened (hypertrophic cardiomyopathy).

Aorta: Normal caliber and appearance.

Respiratory System:

Lungs congested, with frothy fluid in the trachea and bronchi.

Right lung: 450 grams; Left lung: 430 grams.

Gastrointestinal System:

Stomach contained approximately 200 mL of partially digested food.

No abnormalities in the esophagus, stomach, or intestines.

Central Nervous System:

Brain weight: 1,450 grams. No gross abnormalities.

Other Organs:

Liver: Enlarged (1,600 grams), possibly due to mild congestion.

Kidneys: Unremarkable.

Spleen: Normal size.

Microscopic Examination:

Heart Tissue: Acute myocardial infarction visible in sections of the left ventricle.

Coronary Arteries: Advanced plaque buildup with rupture and thrombus formation.

Mitral Valve: Fibrotic thickening and calcification evident.

Toxicology:

No evidence of drugs or alcohol.

Summary and Cause of Death: Daniel Carson, a 20-year-old male, died from complications of a congenital mitral valve defect and severe coronary artery disease. The primary event was a massive myocardial infarction triggered by the blockage of the LAD artery. A second cardiac arrest during transport proved fatal.

Final Diagnosis:

Acute myocardial infarction secondary to LAD artery occlusion.

Congenital mitral valve stenosis and calcification.

Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy contributing to cardiac instability.

Cause of Death: Cardiac arrest due to a defective valve and blocked artery.

Manner of Death: Natural.

Signed by: Dr. Margaret Li, MD Pathologist

[malfiora]

@glitter-stained I want to be cool like you so I'm going to flex some knowledge in my area of expertise, too: development theory. (This will involve developmental psychology, identity development frameworks, and a gentle understanding of canon.) I'll talk about Dick because I'm shamelessly playing favorites.

-----

Background

We're products of our environments.

You've probably heard the term "nature vs. nurture" regarding why someone becomes who they are. Is it genetic? Is it how they were raised? The answer is, it's both. Piaget describes how children develop a sense of self awareness and eventually (usually around 4 years old) an understanding of the fact that other people (a) exist (b) with different perspectives from your own (theory of mind). Vygotsky describes how children learn from their interactions with others, developing heuristics (memory models) that help them recognize, predict, and respond to patterns. Together, child development is both internal (driven by cognitive maturation) and external (interactions with the people around you).

Bronfenbrenner takes this external piece even further, creating his famous nested ecosystem model in which development is shaped by an ever growing ring of systems, starting with the individual, then the people and structures you interact with most (e.g. family, classmates), expanding to systems that indirectly impact you, and finally including the larger cultural, systemic, and sociopolitical networks you're enmeshed in. All of this shapes who you are and how you see yourself.

Adulthood

Gradations of life are a relatively new concept. Back in the day, you used to just go from being a child to being an adult. Then the concept of adolescence (teenagehood) emerged. Now, the concept of young adulthood is popular, describing the age from roughly 18 to 25. During this period, your identity is shifting from someone dependent on an adult for survival, to someone who is becoming independent. The reason we started defining this specific period as separate from plain old adulthood is because in society today, people in this age range typically still rely on another adult for some things but are generally tending towards autonomy. (This is why many of you don't feel like "real" adults.)

Chickering says that folks move from being dependent (relying on an adult), to independent (trying to do everything yourself), to interdependent (being self directed while understanding that you'll still need to rely on others), to developing mature relationships (appreciating the differences of the people around you). Young adults are often in the independent stage.

Racial and ethnic identity development

I'm far too lazy to go dig up my decade-old notes/textbooks for names of theorists, so you'll just have to trust me on this section.

Generally speaking, adolescents and young adults go through several fits and starts understanding their identities, particularly if they belong to a marginalized group. This applies to race/ethnicity as well. (Real quick: in America, race refers to the phenotypic expression of your ancestry, while ethnicity refers to your community's history, culture, and language. This is why "Hispanic" is listed as an ethnicity – a Hispanic person can be any race and still claim this identity, such as Afro Latino folks, or those with African ancestry, who are Black. You'll see why this distinction is important.)

Remember that your sense of self is both innate and dependent on your interactions with the world around you. As you encounter more people and more systems (and develop a deeper understanding of both) your sense of self will change. This is normal (and good). People usually enter young adulthood with at least a loose concept of their racial/ethnic identity, especially if that identity is (a) visible and (b) oppressed.

This is because they are more likely to encounter reactions and consequences to those identities different from their peers with a mainstream (privileged) identity. However, as they move through autonomy, they will naturally encounter many different types of people, which will challenge that concept of their racial/ethnic identity. If they encounter people of different identities from them, those differences will trigger a feeling of otherness. If they encounter people of the same identity, they will experience belonging and/or confusion (this can be simultaneous) as they recognize similarities and differences between their background and expression and their peers'. Eventually, they will settle on their own definition of what it means to be that identity (or they may reject it altogether). They go through this cyclically.

While the "coming out" phase is typically associated with LGBTQ identity development, I find it relevant in all development trajectories involving marginalized identities. Once a person defines their identity, they usually will go through a phase of claiming and expressing that identity, such as wearing certain clothes and hairstyles, buying particular brands or products, making body modifications, and joining groups of similar people. People can and will come out multiple times to different audiences throughout their lives.

Finally, folks with multiple and/or vague racial/ethnic identities also deal with having to figure out which groups they (are permitted to) belong to and when. In America, skin color matters a lot, so folks who look closer to the race they claim are more likely to be considered that race (and therefore accepted by their peers in that group), while folks who don't look like an identity they claim are far more likely to face doubt, exclusion, and ridicule when claiming that identity. With white passing folks specifically, they can and often are considered white until/unless their other identity is disclosed. (This may be a holdover from antebellum America, in which the "one drop rule" maintained that no matter how white a person looked, if they had even "one drop" of Black in them, they were Black.) Naturally, multi racial/ethnic / ambiguous folks can feel even more isolated or excluded than monoracial/ethnic folks who are marginalized.

I want to be clear that I am speaking about claiming and rejecting identities from a values-neutral stance. Neither are inherently good or bad. Instead, they are both indicators of how a person sees themself, and that's it. They also may change over time.

Culturally responsive pedagogy

Hammond wrote a beautiful book on this concept, developed by Ladson-Billings (who also coined the term critical race theory). Essentially, the model states that students must be approached with their culturally-based ways of making meaning so they can effectively learn. Hammond explains that when we force children into systems that were not created for them, which includes punishing them for "failing" to learn, they go into survival mode: the amygdala "hijacks" your brain so that you can focus on responding to threats. When this happens, your brain is not focusing on complex learning or encoding memories. Getting around that involves building relationships with students to learn how they learn best, and then approaching new concepts based on their already developed heuristics.

Morality and perspective

And finally, the theories that made me want to write all of this in the first place.

Love him or hate him, Kohlberg's moral development theory is a helpful place to start. It says that a person's sense of right and wrong evolves over time, starting with being motivated by punishment and reward: do more of the behaviors that get you rewarded and avoid the behaviors that get you punished. Then you start doing the things that satisfy your needs and desires and avoid doing the things that don't. These two stages (the pre conventional stages) are typical of young children.

The conventional stages involve wanting to be seen as a good person/rule follower, and then believing in the absolute rightness of law or some authority figure. This is typical of older children and younger teens. (Recall that children develop theory of mind in between the pre conventional and conventional stages.)

Lastly, the post conventional stages consist of the social contract, or the belief that you should treat others fairly or not cause harm, and what I call the Jesus stage, or the commitment to doing the most right thing that benefits the most people regardless of personal cost.

Most adults hover between conventional and post conventional. This means that most people are concerned with obeying the law and not harming others.

Now we switch over to Perry, who says that children, teens, and young adults develop along a trajectory from dualism to commitment to relativism. At the dualism stage, the world is binary: right and wrong, good and bad. Authority figures (parents, teachers) are absolute. The second stage is multiplicity, which is the understanding that people have different opinions that must all be considered equally; authority figures are not always right and maybe aren't all that special. Relativism, the third stage, involves weighing those different opinions differently because of the understanding that not all of them are equal – some are more informed than others, for example. The final stage, commitment to relativism, involves a person realizing that multiple truths exist and they must make meaning of all of that for themselves.

What usually motivates someone to grow to the next stage is a crisis (here meaning "a disruption in the norm") in which they cannot use their current understanding of the world to make sense of new information.

-----

Salty section

I haven't done enough research to declare anything in this section definitively, so do your own and take what I say with a grain of salt. I think all of these points are worth discussing, so I still wanted to include them.

Displaced peoples

Based on what few things I know of the Hmong people and Indigenous Americans, I wanted to draw some potential parallels that have helped me conceptualize what the Romani people have experienced.

All identity groups mentioned have been violently forced to relocate. The Hmong have a diaspora spanning continents. I was lucky to learn more about them while living in Minnesota, where there is a strong Hmong community. The ways they have held onto their identity include staking a physical claim to where they live (e.g. Hmong Village, living in certain neighborhoods), reinventing cultural traditions like quilt making, and gathering family/clans regularly to perform rites of passage for their young people (like a way cooler family reunion).

From anecdotes, I know that Indigenous folks in the southwest US (like Arizona) also have something like clans, in which folks who live together on a reservation or in a certain neighborhood rely on and watch over each other whether or not they are related by blood. Also, though this may vary state to state, reservations usually have autonomous governance structures, meaning they run their own schools, create their own laws (that don't conflict with state or federal law), and have their own elected officials. From what I've heard, law enforcement will usually not interfere with whatever happens on a res (out of fear? respect? I'm not sure) unless absolutely necessary.

Adoptees

I've had the pleasure of knowing many different types of families, including many adoptees, both monoracial (adopted parent and child are the same race) and trans racial (parent and child are different races). In both cases, there has been a point where the adopted child seems to reclaim their family. I can only comment on this from an outside perspective, but it appears to me like they are committing to a both/and framework: their adopted family both is and isn't their traditional family, and that's okay.

My transracial adoptee friends also underwent a race/ethnicity development trajectory that's driven by self discovery moreso than searching for a sense of belonging. This was regardless of their relationship with their adoptive parents, although my friends who have more secure relationships seemed less distressed about doing this kind of exploration.

-----

So let's start at the beginning.

Dick was born to a Romani couple in Europe who traveled frequently. They were circus performances, and Dick became one, too. This means that Dick's early childhood was spent with other nomadic folks living this non traditional lifestyle, probably including other Romani folks (we know Raptor was one of them). He likely learned English among many other languages, and certainly French, given his mother's background. He was most likely homeschooled.

His parents' deaths and his move into the Wayne manor happened when he was between 8 and 10 (you decide; nobody agrees on this), an age at which he was susceptible to believing in the inherent rightness of authority figures and that the world is divided into right and wrong; this aligns exactly with dualistic thinking.

He also was plucked out of one sociological ecosystem and plopped into another – homeschooled to traditional school; transient to rooted; ethnic minority (Romani) to mainstream identity (white/white passing); multilingual to monolingual environments. This alone is traumatic and likely to trigger survival mode. Dick's ability to socially integrate and even do well in school is a gigantic sign that the adults in his life at this age created psychological safety for him so that he could overcome that amygdala hijack and actually learn. Most likely, Bruce engaged Dick in the heuristics he had developed already (say, practical application of theoretical concepts; community-centered learning like storytelling) to help him transition to his new environment. So say it with me: Bruce Wayne is a good parent.

...sort of. Because later in his life, Dick exhibits rigid thinking that indicates he hasn't quite moved beyond dualistic thinking. As an adult, he often defines the world in binary ways: heroes and villains, criminals and victims, right and wrong. This is very likely the rigidity he learned from Bruce, the one for which he's been rewarded since he was 8 years old. Though he's lagging behind developmentally (most adults are in the multiplicity stage), there is little incentive for him to abandon that way of thinking.

In fairness, though, this may also be a product of his late-stage moral development. Dick is certainly approaching the Jesus stage (it's formally called "principles" but that's boring), if his self sacrificing nature is any indication. What keeps me from loudly declaring that he is, in fact, in that stage is that he doesn't always choose the "most right" thing – say, sacrificing someone else or killing a killer.

Then, as Seeley showed us, there is a real gap in Dick's concept of his ethnic identity. He goes through the whole reclaiming-his-adoptive-family thing right on time (around age 19, after moving out and once Jason joins the fam) as he reconciles with Bruce and learns why he never formally adopted Dick. But he rejects his ethnic identity¹ by rejecting Raptor, and in fact he doubles down on claiming Bruce as his father figure.

Of course, it's not that simple. He doesn't seem to explore or understand why, but Dick does try to hang onto remnants of his childhood² – buying the circus, reconnecting with old friends (both items in Nightwing (2011)), naming his dog Haley, to name a few. So he's going through his cycles of identity exploration and I'll eagerly await his coming out phase.

-----

Additional reading

¹ @romanyeva talks about how important the Raptor arc is and how much more we need stories that explore Dick's status as a Romani adoptee (link)

² I explained how Nightwing (1996) shows that Dick never learned how to grieve, which is another reason he holds onto things (link)

On a related note, I plan to read My Grandmother's Hands, a book about intergenerational and racial trauma. It's an American perspective but still relevant to this conversation (link)

Otherwise, I leave all talk of neuropathology, trauma, and cognitive psych to glitter (for example, this – trigger warning for child sexual assault)

And speaking of trauma, I have The Body Keeps the Score on my reading list. It's about the physical manifestation of trauma (link)

I just found a National Institute of Health research paper on Latino identity development in adolescents and young adults (link)

(link)

[ellas-journey]

From a thing to wear to an icon of culture 👘

There is this hidden detail in Muzan that when I noticed I could not help but smile. Remember how he said that the thing he hated the most was change? Well coming from someone that had to live in 5 different eras is kinda funny, and it's even funny when you realize that he ended up adopting the Western fashion pretty fast. But that's the twist, if you look at Muzan's vest you come to realize that it's the exact same pattern as the kimono he used to wear. The best part? That was a thing that actually happened in history.

Wanting or not, the clothing that the people used to wear represents the history they lived through. "To look seriously at art objects of the everyday, such as clothes - their discourse and practices, their meaning-bearing forms and their codes of internal and external interpretations - in an essential, and often neglected, component of any study of modern aesthetics." - Slade, 2009 Yofuku [Western Clothing] is a type of clothing that is now common all over Japan, but during a lot of time, it was a type of clothes that only selected few grew up with. The 1st contacts with these types of clothing [even if extremely different from what we now call western clothing] was in the 16th century when the Portuguese arrived in Tanegashima. With them came not only different shapes but also different fabrics. But the “true” introduction to western fashion would only happen with Commodore Matthew Perry, catharsis to the Meiji restoration, where Emperor Meiji would start to dress in a typical western military outfit, and soon after the empress would start to aper in the typical victorian dresses. In the Edo period clothing visually distinguished the social classes. "Certain articles of clothing visibly differentiated people of diverse social classes, and simultaneously distinguished an individual within a specific group. The materials, motifs and construction of military campaign coats, for example, marked their wearers as men belonging to the military class." - Milhaupt, 2014; Samurai ranked on the top, followed by farmers, artisans, and merchants on the bottom. What happen was that most of the times the samurai where poor while the merchants lived in economic success. But samurai had the privilege of using certain types of fabrics and patters, even tho most of the times they could not afford them, and so, the merchants would start to adapt the fabrics and patters they were allowed to were and would end up becoming the patrons of arts and fashion. The trends of fashion would later be documented in ukiyo-e, and not only in the work of art sense, but also in pattern books were people could browse the prevailing styles. After the 1st contacts with the westerners, what would start to happen is that slowly but surely the Japanese would start to integrate the western ways of dressing into their lives. The Japanese started to introduce some of its elements with the kimono, shoes, hats, gloves, glasses, umbrellas, etc. Then in the 19th century a full change would happen starting from the man in the highest classes to the man in the lowest classes. The emperor decided to cut his topknot in 1872 and started to dress in western clothing in official appearances, also changing some of the more cultural habits like eating meat and more wester kind of meals. In the official portraits he appears adorned with a French-style military uniform with ornaments in gold and ostrich feathers. Before this, the emperor was never a public figure, so when pictures of the Meiji Emperor became available, and he started to appear more publicly the nation would have their eyes on him and start to imitate him. Women would, for the longest time still dress in the now classic kimono, that would develop as a symbol of the old and traditional Japan. The idea of the western clothing being associated with a modernized Japan and the Kimono [that literally means “thing to wear”] to a traditional country came from the fact that the emperor would choose to wear western clothes in more formal, international events, and for religious national events would choose the traditional Japanese court dress. The western clothes will end up being a symbol of the modernization of Japan, and the Meiji government would use it as yet another tool of national control. For all the Japanese born after 1945 the western clothes became the norm. Most families would end up transforming their kimonos into western clothing pieces, and the patterns sold for kimonos would double for kimonos and western clothing.

But it is funny to notice how despite it all Muzan is the one being presented in western clothing and Ubuyashiki is the one in traditional clothes, always being the contradiction of the other, but also it can also be interpretated as the Ubuyashibi family being "trapped" in the past since in hundred years the corps never killed an upper moon, the history never changed. And Muzan in his ever-changing cycle of his life, in the changing of eras and changing of personas he decided to reuse the only thing he could: his clothes. And just like him, they would adapt through the times.

MILHAUPT, Terry Satsuki. 2014 - Kimono: A Modern History. London: Reaktion Books [Ebook]; SLADE, Toby. 2009 - Japanese Fashion: A cultural History. Oxford, Berg. [Ebook];

[doin-just-fine]

The People Wanna Know: Dissociation

Q: “How do you tell when you’re dissociating, and what kinds are there?”

A: 🛸 Great question! When figuring out my plurality we had a few questions about dissociating and how to tell the difference between that and being lost in thought and blah blah blah. SO! Here's what we've got for you!

🛸 Many people will describe dissociating as "checking out" which is super vague and leave a lot of questions as to what exactly that means. Not to mention that some people just kind of live in a state of dissociation and don't have a reference of "normal" so I will try to give you both. What does it mean, feel like, look like to dissociate? Meaning: Dissociating happens when there is too much stress for the mind to handle. Things like a traumatic event can cause dissociation or just everyday mundane situations that lead to dissociation like going on auto pilot when you're driving or reading a book. Immediately after a traumatic even it's that feeling where time slows and nothing feels real like you're watching the events around on a tv screen instead of being there in persons. I think what most people wonder about or need clarification on is random moments of dissociation due to an over active trauma response. Most systems experience long term trauma that puts them in a constant state of fight or flight. This causes them to have a very overactive stress response when they are finally in a safe environment. Sometime people feel as though they dissociate for no reason, others over things most would consider minor stressors, on top of the majors stressors that just come with life. Having an over active stress response like this can lead to dissociation disorders like derealization (feeling like the world around you isn't real) and depersonalization (feeling like you yourself are not real). These occur typically when someone lives in a state of dissociation more often than not but can also be used to describe the the sensation dissociation at any given time.

Feeling: This varies person to person/system to system. As previously stated you have the feeling of the world around you not feeling real and the feeling of you yourself not being real. You can also feel both of these at the same time which can be very disorienting. This can lead to struggling to follow conversations or can feel like you're half listening to someone but splitting with out actually splitting your attention externally. It can feel like playing a 1st person video game. It can also feel like not processing information in real time. Dissociation is basically a disconnect from your surrounding, mind, body, emotion, identity, and memories. Dissociation can look like any one of these things on it's own or in combination with another. For us it's typically an emotional dissociation rather than a personal or surrounding feeling. In moments of stress our emotions turn off and we don't really feel things as they happen. If we're lucky, only in hindsight can we break down what we were feeling if at all. This can look like no feelings period or being calm cool and collected only to breakdown later about the stress. For those of us who don't experience a constant state of depersonalization or derealization, dissociating can be easiest to identify after the fact. Dissociation can affect the memories of an event making them difficult to recall or align correctly, something you only notice after the event has passed and you try to recall it, or feeling your emotion switch turn back on and having everything hit you at once but only when you feel safe again, or tuning back into your surrounding and realizing you missed your bus stop. Dissociation can also feel inward. Like you are retreating into you mind. Things may feel far away or even sound far away. If you can hear your headmates talk in your headspace, dissociation can be retreating internally and being pulled into headmate thoughts or conversations. This is one we observe in our partner system. We'll be talking to them and we'll see their eyes glaze over or they don't response and when we grab their attention they'll say something along the lines of "people are being loud" or "people are having big feelings". This kind of dissociating is also what switching can feel like for some.

Look: Not all dissociation is visually identifiable but if it is it typically look like the person not moving, staring off into space, speaking but clearly internally preoccupied, confusion. They may look like they aren't listening or maybe they look a bit lost. They may have a slow response time or may lose track of their thoughts a lot. But for some, like us, they can just look "normal". Looking normal is a survival technique. Some people, like us, were brought up in an environment where fully checking out was not safe. Some people never disconnect from their surrounding because they had to be aware of everything around them all the time. This is valid. The brain is an amazing thing and is capable of multitasking even if that multitasking is being aware of your surroundings while also checking out from them. I do it all the time.

🛸Differences between Dissociating and: - Brain fog: Brain fog is just general confusion and slow thinking and processing. This typically come without feeling like the world or yourself isn't real or difficulty recalling the moments of brain fog or feeling disconnected from your emotions. If one prone to dissociation the feeling brain fog can lead to dissociating. - Being lost in thought: Being lost in thought can be a form of dissociation. However, there is planning your day and then theres dissociating about your day. Planning your day feels like your actively participating in it and dissociating about your day feels like your disconnected from it.

🛸I hope this was helpful! This is what we've gathered knowledge and experience wise on the topic of dissociation. If you have anything else to add pls reblog with your additions so people who need the recourse can see it! If you have any more questions about dissociation or if you need any clarification leave a comment or ask me directly!

REMEMBER: You're gonna be ok. You're gonna figure it out. Be kind and gentle with yourself and others. Asks are open. Have a nice day.

[nonsensisystem]

Noni,

I have a serious (but hopefully respectfully asked) question for you and I would appreciate it if you could help educate me on this matter.

In your personal experience, how do systems approach relationships? For clarification, this question is not exclusive to one type of relationship, but all (such as familial relationships, friendships, romantic relationships, and so on).

As I am struggling to think of a way to elaborate on what I am asking, let me use a made-up example. There is a System that consists of Alter A and Alter B, each fronting in the body for equal periods.

One day, a Non-System meets System while Alter A is fronting. They get along well and become friends.

Non-System has met System but only spoken to Alter A. Is Non-System automatically friends with Alter B because they are from the same System? Will Alter A first have to tell Alter B about their friendship with Non-System before the System as a whole determines if they should be considered a friend?

What if Alter B is a fictive, soulbound, walk-in, or any other person from a source, who already has relationships from their source? Or what if for whatever reason, Alter B has trauma with relationships in any kind of way and does not want to communicate with Non-System, while Alter A does?

To take the example further, what if Non-System falls in love with Alter A? Alter A may have a romantic and/or sexual orientation that is compatible with Non-System, but what if Alter B does not?

Outside of trauma that may have caused a system to have difficulty socialising, do you think systems are more likely to face issues such as loneliness, rejection, or similar concepts? Are there things that others such as myself (anyone outside of the system) should be mindful of regarding these matters so that we can help, support, or simply understand?

I apologise for the bombardment of questions. As you can tell, this was not something that I could solve with a single Google search, haha. Let me stress that I am asking these things respectfully with the intention of learning, and I apologise sincerely if I have asked something that is inadvertently disrespectful, ignorant or otherwise.

- Saber

Hello! Thank you for your thorough and thoughtful question. As the twins are not available for in-depth questions like this at the moment, I'll be answering in the stead. You may call me Enoch, it is a pleasure to meet you, Saber, I have read much about you in the paper as of late. Everyone has been enjoying your questions quite a lot!

As for your question, of course every system is different and have their own methods of operating around these sorts of topics. However, I will try to answer them in the context of our own experiences and try to meet them with our own examples.

To preface, the Nonsensical System is a very large system. Certainly not the largest out there, but with over 100 residents, front is a place that is typically regulated, either by the twins or myself. The twins, Ouki and Kokki, are our hosts and "cores," and are typically "frontstuck," meaning they are always in front or conscious to some degree. Generally, they have final say in much of what goes on externally, and that includes external relationships. There is no one in the outer world that a resident knows that the twins do not.

Furthermore, many of our residents have internal relationships, either within the system, or with our partner system from across the mental bridge. As such, many prefer to stay inside anyway, or otherwise have no business outside beyond brief visits for leisure. We are also very good at voluntary switching, so people are free to pop in and out at their discretion or when called.

With those things in mind, I'll get to your hypotheticals under the cut:

So, this particular example does not typically apply to us, because the twins share front by cofronting at all times. Furthermore, since they are in front at all times, anyone that the rest of the system meets is typically already a friend to them in some capacity. If a resident doesn't gel with someone in particular, they can simply choose not to come to front and interact with them.

In other systems' situations, I imagine that communication would be a major factor. The way I see it, Alter A as an individual should be free to consider the singlet (this is the term we in the plural community use for non-systems) a friend, but Alter B should not feel obligated to interact with them simply because they are Alter A's friend. They're both people with their own boundaries, yes? As such, interaction should not be forced, especially where trauma is concerned.

For example, my younger brother Zacharie is very averse to outside relationships of any kind due to his Paranoid Personality Disorder. He really only interacts with people within the twins' inner circle of friends, and even then, only very sparingly. That is his choice and he is free to make it for his own comfort. Instead, he really only is close to the twins and the rest of the Tillis family, Alice Cartwright, and maybe two or three people outside the Nonsensical System, all from other systems we have known for years.

As for romance, that also depends. In our personal experience, we have what is called a partner system, which is another system that prominent members are romantically involved with. Of course, not everyone in the system is romantically involved with them, but a lot of members of their system are likewise partners to members of our system. Kokki is engaged to that system's host, Ouki is partners with that system's cohost, and a myriad of our residents are partners with various members of that system. We also have a lot of polycule things going on.

This goes further into personal experience and there is some discourse around it as a possibility which we'd rather not engage with, but it's worth noting that we have established a bridge between Mindscapes with our partner system, and so many of the members of that system who are close or partners with residents of ours are able to visit or live in Sunshine City. As such, they can be together without having to wait for a chance to front. We understand it's a unique situation to us and does not apply to other systems, who will have to do a lot more negotiating and communicating to figure out a system that works for them.

Beyond all that, I can't say for certain whether or not systems are prone to loneliness and the like, especially considering our own Inner System was initially formed to cope with such things. The twins were always very lonely, and the Inner System came to be as a way for us to provide them with the companionship and family they craved.

Overall, for those outside a system, I would say that communication is key, especially if you are close enough for the system to have revealed themselves to you. I would operate on the idea that everyone within the system is their own person, and so you should take some time to get to know everyone accordingly, rather than just assume you are already friends simply because you are friends with another member. From what we gather, a lot of systems prefer to have all of their member acknowledged as individuals, and are not fond of blanket assumptions being made across the entire system based on any single member.

I do hope this helps, and if you have any further questions, you may feel free to ask!

-Enoch

[dogtoling]

Biology of Inkfish - Basic Biology

Neocephalopods generally maintain an upright posture. This posture is bipedal in most species except for the nautili; although their upright posture commonly mimics one. All neocephalopods except the nautili lack external shells attaching to their bodies and are considered soft-bodied - in most species the only hard part of their bodies is their beak. Non-inkfish cephalings typically have a light, cartilaginous “bone” structure which helps them stand upright, or they are smaller to compensate for the lack of both a rigid support structure or ink veins - whereas ink-producing cephalings, or inklings, move and support themselves through a unique combination of lightweight but powerful musculature and pressurized ink. 

Inklings can “transform” into a more compressed form through a series of internal muscle contractions. This is often called “swim form” due to its implied use. As an inkling enters swim form, muscles in their bodies shift around radically and they take on a more compact form. This form is primarily used for aerodynamic movement, camouflage, climbing and escaping predators via sliding on top of ink or launching oneself away into the air. An inkling in its swim form will usually open its ink ducts, causing copious amounts of ink flow onto the skin - and the opening of these ink ducts and glands is also a major weakness of the form, leaving the inklings vulnerable to suffering from outside liquid intake as the tradeoff for camouflage and rapid locomotion over ink.

While the ancestors of cephalings are poikilotherms, the status of cephaling body temperatures is slightly more complicated. While they generate a notable amount of heat through bodily functions, the body temperatures they phase through and are able to function under have a lot of variety. Cephalings generate much of their body heat through muscle activity while awake and active, and a cephaling that is up and about typically has a high body temperature to aid in circulation and efficient brain function. The body temperatures of cephalings gradually lower when in a state of rest, and in sleep, their body temperature will typically drop to match that of their environment, conserving energy. As a result of this adaptation, cephalings can spend long periods of time in dormancy and bypass the need for food, but the downside is that a cephaling at rest will take a long time to become sufficiently active again and respond to potential immediate threats. A low enough body temperature may prevent activity altogether, and while this so-called “warm-up time” is rarely relevant in modern times due to inventions like heating and blankets, a cephaling may need up to an hour to get their circulation and metabolism working at a rate at which they can function properly.

[A comparison of inkfish body heat distribution depending on activity level. In resting states, the inkfish body produces little to no heat, which cools down the extremities drastically and requires a literal warm-up period until proper activity is possible. The body heats up through movement of the muscles as well as through production and increased cycling of ink. The body temperatures of inkfish change drastically throughout different times of day, and the low metabolic rates of resting inkfish enable them to get by with very little food if necessary.]