#because self hatred is so tiring and i’m the only person who will ever be able to give me what i want

[priestfrommidnightmass]

i’ve decided that 2024 is going to be my year of my rest relaxation and most of all selfishness. i’ve been reflecting on myself this past year and this holiday season has made it really clear to me about how i’ve been working myself to the bone for others and holding myself back in terms of the things that bring me joy and i just can’t keep living like this. i’ve never thought of myself as a people pleaser i’ve actually actively been against that label but the more i’ve been reflecting on my behaviors i’ve realized that i totally am one and well fuck that!!! i hate that shit!!! it’s not that i want to be rude or unkind or anything because that’s definitely not my goal but. straining myself and pushing myself farther than i need to and ignoring my own wants and needs in fear of being judged isn’t going to make people love or care about me or put any more thought into me. i’m so utterly exhausted of constantly giving 150% for others when i don’t get even an eighth of that back. so i’ve decided i’m going to start putting myself first and everyone else leagues behind me because. so much of my life is rooted in guilt and shame and beating myself up because of how i’m perceived and it makes zero sense and all it does is make me fucking miserable. i want to knock down even those stupid mental barriers like how i’ve been too scared to go see movies by myself or forcing myself to be quiet because i’m convinced that all of my emotions whether it’s misery or joy is a burden to others because Nobody. Cares. nobody cares!!! nobody cares and that’s so freeing. i am going to find a way to love myself if it fucking kills me i am going to do what makes me happy and not care if it’s a “burden” to anyone else (it isn’t.) i am gonna do what i want when i want to fuckin do it and i don’t Care anymore. this will be the year i come out victorious in the idgaf war and it’s gonna be incredible

[slavicviking]

Long Jump, Huge Leap

wc: 5k | Pre-Season 3 steddie

[Ao3]

Whoever said Eddie Munson doesn’t like sports is wrong.

One can dislike a candy bar, a type of soda, a likewise mundane thing that comes down to preferences. No, no. What Eddie Munson feels towards sports cannot be condensed into such a simple term. His body itself outright refuses to take part in any sport activity – sweat immediately pooling at his pits and back and ass, legs acting disjointed, arms too long and too weak to do anything of significance, except for maybe making a fool of himself. With that particular element of his P.E. experience helps his mouth which, funnily enough, is the only part of Eddie that runs quicker than anyone, especially its owner, can catch up. Not that the rest of his group feels exceptionally impressed with the skill presented.

Hawkins High doesn’t need a furry mascot for laugh-inducing entertainment when it has Eddie Munson.

“Munson, you’re in Hagan’s team.”

“Oh, for fuck’s-“

“Do not fret, little ol’ Thomas, I sincerely vouch to not dare touch the balls you play with-“

And as the usual song and dance goes, the ball is thrust directly into his stomach.

Several bruises left on his body and ego later Eddie decides it’s simply not worth it, he skips P.E. entirely – avoids it as if it were the ninth circle of Hell. It may as well be, he thinks. Uncle Wayne seems persistent to convince Eddie to try again but after a long and, frankly tiring, conversation the subject is dropped.

Until now.

Eddie stretches out his legs in front of him, the uncomfortable plastic chair digging into his spine and reshaping his already barely-there ass into a flat tire. It’s psychological warfare, it must be, because how else can one explain furniture that defies its primary function so well. Principal Higgins knew well what she did when she chose them to be placed in front of her office. Her own personal little torture chamber.

“The Principal is ready to see you now, Mr. Munson,” the secretary, a pretty blonde in her twenties, tries to smile at him but all that comes out as a result is a grimace stretched thin over her face. It dims further when Eddie stands up making the most noise he possibly could have with the chair sliding across the parquet.

“Sorry,” he says because he is actually sorry. For all his bold persona and jumping on tables, he hates the idea of bothering someone who absolutely does not deserve it. The secretary is nice, he can say that with confidence he’s gained over sitting in that damned red plastic chair too many times to bother counting. He also knows he can be a lot when seated in it – constantly twitching and shifting, mind all too self-aware of the pre-attached uncoordinated body.

Principal Higgins doesn’t look pleased to see him but when does she ever? Eddie personally believes they see each other often enough to be on first-name basis, or at least have this unspoken camaraderie between each other. He thinks the name Margaret would fit her. Tiffany? The only obstacle of their everlasting friendship he can think of is the boundless hatred she has for him. And he has for her.

“Mr. Munson, I’m glad you could join us,” she says, voice syrupy-sweet, so much so it clogs Eddie’s ears for a moment. She has a maroon sweater on today and Eddie thinks it complements the stark bags under her eyes very well. A white blouse ironed to the bone peeks out from underneath it, sleeves rolled up. It’s then that he notices Coach Collins sitting in the chair usually reserved for the culprit’s legal guardian. This is not a usual part of their – Higgins’ and Eddie’s – routine and so it throws him out of the loop a little.

“Please sit,” Higgins points to the only empty seat in her office. Eddie is glad, for what’s it worth, that the chairs here are leagues better than whatever monstrosity his ass still feels the imprint of awaits in the waiting room.

“It wasn’t me,” Eddie says what he always does as he sits down. The Principal doesn’t look any more or less impressed with the line than usual, only letting out a silent sigh.

“Mr. Munson, your attendance ratio in Mr. Collins’ class is abhorrent.”

 Ah. Rough and straight to the point, just the way he likes it.

“I might have missed… a couple of days,” Eddie admits, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. His eyes roam the intricate designs on the carpet. Surprisingly enough they look exactly the same as the last time he’s seen them.

“More like a whole semester, son,” Coach finally decides to take part in this excruciating exchange.

“Normally that amount of missed classes is enough to fail the grade but Mr. Collins was considerate enough to offer you a deal,” Higgins pointedly stares Eddie down as if wanting to force him to slide down to his knees and thank the Coach for the opportunity. As if ‘Mr. Collins’ didn’t turn his head at all the harassment Eddie has faced in his class to begin with.

“Uh-huh.”

“Sport’s Day is coming up. We’d like you to join us this year, Mr. Munson,” she adds, implying she very much would not like him to be there at all but some predestined script requires it. “I believe some teamwork could do you good.”

Yes. Because being stuck with the school’s entire jock population on the football field is somehow better than ten or so of them in a P.E. class. He’s going to die, for sure .

The thing is, he knows they are giving him an excellent out. Sport’s Day is sort-of mandatory, though he’s only attended it once himself. It’s a big event for the school that, in theory, is a great opportunity to let a bit loose and get to know each other. Except, as it often is, a certain part of the Hawkins High population deems themselves as better than others and what should be all fun and games turns puckingly nerve-wracking if you dare to not be pristinely perfect and screw up. Eddie had one attempt in 1982 and hasn’t stick in a foot or arm onto school grounds that day ever since.

“Right,” he says in the end, voice a little strangled. They both clearly take it as him agreeing and, well, he doesn’t really have a choice, does he? Unless he wants to repeat Senior Year again.

He doesn’t.

He really, really doesn’t.

So one full day of excruciating pain it is.

-&-

It’s hot as fucking balls.

The event hasn’t started yet but Eddie can already feel the sweat pooling all over his body. Students stand in small groups all around the yard and it takes him a long while before he spots the Corroded Coffin.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that Eddie Munson?”

“Yeah, yeah, yack it up,” he rolls his eyes at Jeff, eyes scanning the area for a semi-hidden smoking spot and finding none. It’s too risky, anyway. He lifts the hem of his shirt to fan himself. “Not like I had a choice.”

They all know about the quote unquote ‘olive branch’ handed out to him by the school but he can feel they’re surprised he decided to follow through with the spectacle anyway.

A long queue forms in the middle of the court, Coach Collins and Jenkins right at the top of it all along with Principle Higgins, each with a jar filled with differently colored strips of material in their hands. Even with no say in the matter, Eddie feels his hand sweating the closer he gets to the harbinger of his doom. Soon enough he will know who is going to make his life hell the next ten or so hours.

“Team yellow,” Collins tells him and gives him the appropriately colored ribbon. Eddie does a apathetic ‘woohoo’ with it before sliding off the side where his new team members reside. He ties the material loosely around his neck because he lives to disrupt the norm. Because fuck Collins.

“I don’t think it’s supposed to go there, dude,” Hawkins’ personal eye-candy, Steve Harrington, tells him upon arrival. Even in this horrid damp weather he keeps smiling for some unknown reason, no strand of hair out of place. He has his basketball uniform on – a simple gray shirt and, oh God, tiny shorts that expose those legs- Eddie snaps his head up so fast he’s surprised it hasn’t cracked and rolled off yet. Perhaps that would be the more merciful solution. A yellow ribbon is residing around Harrington’s sun-kissed bicep.

Great.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a great fan of rules,” he bites, hoping Harrington will just leave him be.

“I know. It’s your whole shtick.” So. That’s a no. Harrington shrugs.

“But sometimes rules are there for a reason,” he says and hooks his finger under the ribbon around Eddie’s neck to tug at it lightly. “To, like, not die.”

However eloquently phrased, Eddie begrudgingly admits – to himself, in his head, never out loud – that there might be a good point hidden somewhere underneath all that hair spray. He wonders if it were Hagan in Harrington’s place would there be a more hands-on approach to this warning. With Eddie being left strangled.

Quite possibly.

He’s not going to test that theory.

“Whatever his majesty wants,” Eddie says as he dutifully unties the yellow ribbon from his neck. And because he never knows when to shut up, he adds, “You don’t have to pretend to be nice, dude. I know me being in your team, like, disrupts your mojo, or whatever.”

Harrington is noticeably not smiling anymore. He doesn’t cross his arms though it looks like he really wants to. There’s a pinch between his eyebrows. It should not be attractive but, alas, Eddie is but a weak man.

“It’s supposed to be fun, man.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Eddie ends up mumbling, feeling out of energy all of a sudden. The queue of students doesn’t seem to be getting any shorter, not that it matters much because all his friends have been scattered throughout all the other teams. He moves to sit on the grass at the edge of their little Yellow group, legs spread out in front of him. The grass is dry under his palms as he leans back, and he wishes he could light an inconspicuous smoke. Even more so when a body slams into him.

“Jesus Christ, what the f-“

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” a girl yelps. “I was trying to tie my shoe but I have, like, no coordination so I kind of fell over you? I didn’t mean to do that, I’m so sorry. Balancing on one leg is so much harder than it looks. Like, honestly, how do cheerleaders even do that thing where they-“

“Whoa, hey, it’s fine,” Eddie jumps in before the girl – Robin Buckley, turns out – faints from lack of air. A yellow ribbon hangs limply off her wrist. Maybe it makes him a bad person but there is a sense of relief knowing he will not be the only ‘uncoordinated’ one on the team. Harrington is going to have an aneurysm for sure.

Robin blinks down at him, lips pulling down in a frown. “Oh, it’s you.”

Okay? Mean.

“Yes?” Whatever imaginary comradery Eddie hoped for seems off the table all of a sudden. Well, that’s a bummer. “Why the long face? Not happy to see a fellow nerd on the team?”

“You stepped on my sandwich last week.”

Ah. Well. That would do it, he supposes. The lunch break speeches… they sometimes get a little intense. Eddie gets a little intense, is what the rest of the Hellfire Club would probably say. Eddie’s shoes have been known to slam face – sole? – first into the best of what the Hawkins High cafeteria had to offer; which is not saying much, to be completely honest.

“My humble apologies,” he tries a little bow and hopes it comes off sincere. Buckley looks less than convinced. Tough crowd, what can he say?

“Alrighty, I think that’s all of us,” Harrington’s overly cheery voice thunders somewhere from above him and Eddie, like a moth drawn to a flame, has no other option but to look up. With his hands power-posed strategically onto his sinfully slim waist and the sun positioned perfectly behind him, Steve Harrington seems to have taken it upon himself to alter Eddie’s brain chemistry, braincells leaving left and right, leaking right through his ears, never to be seen again.

“You’re drooling,” Robin’s monotone informs him from his right and he promptly slams his mouth shut, even though he knows the claim is wildly exaggerated. Buckley may be the best or the worst person he’s ever met – he desperately needs to befriend her.

“First up is the relay-race. We need four people. Anyone up?”

Harrington is met with painful silence and that does dim the cheery smile a little bit. Eddie wonders if that is where the famous King Steve comes out of the hiding, all scary sharp teeth and disregard of basic human decency. He himself stills, for once not wanting to draw any attention to himself, feeling like a student who doesn’t know the correct answer which, not to brag, if you asked Higgins or any other teacher in Hawkins High, is something Eddie excels in. Curiosity, though, is a fickle thing and he’s fallen victim to it more times than he can count, and so when the uncomfortable silence drowns on, Eddie can’t help but take a look around to meet the Team Yellow, so to speak.

Fred Benson peers at him from his thick glasses. A group of scared freshman cower together. There’s a couple of band kids other than Robin Buckley who forgone glaring at the back of Eddie’s head in order to chew on her lip nervously and stare at the ground. Not a jock in sight.

Steve Harrington couldn’t have landed a worse team if he tried. Surprisingly he doesn’t look like he’s about to piss himself over it. Huh.

“Alright, well. I volunteer myself then,” he raises his hand. “That leaves three. Hm? Come on, it’s gonna be fun!”

Eddie can’t help it. He snorts. It’s loud and ugly.

“Well, I guess we have another volunteer,” Harrington preens and Eddie has to see who is idiotic enough to- It’s him, isn’t it? Harrington pulled out the classic teacher move and Eddie fell right into the trap.

“You do not want that, Harrington,” he tells him, trying his best not to show how much the intense eye contact from the jock affects him. It does not. It affects him even less when Steve juts out his bottom lip and tilts his head to the side like a goddamn Golden Retriever.

“Why not?”

“You’re going to lose?”

“It’s not about winning, it’s about teamwork,” Harrington trudges on stubbornly, sounding eerily sincere even while basically quoting every fake-cheery pamphlet in existence. It doesn’t matter how much Eddie tries to convince him it’s a bad idea – a terrible, awful, horrible idea – he doesn’t budge an inch like the stubborn asshole that he is.

“I’ll go last,” he informs Eddie and the other two unfortunate ‘volunteers’ once they reach the track.

“Hey, Harrington,” cuts a familiar voice and there’s Hagan suddenly all up Harrington’s business. “Ready to lose?”

To his credit, all Steve does is raise one eyebrow. “Did Hargrove tell you to come here, or what?”

Eddie appreciates balls on a man, literally and metaphorically, so this cheery but assertive combo is doing things to him that he is not proud of. There is a reason he avoided Steve Harrington for most of high school, and it wasn’t only because of the King Steve jock persona. Eddie may not have a good taste in men but he does have eyes.

“Whatever, man,” Hagan finishes off their little pissing contest in the meantime, strutting right back to Billy, both arms adored by blue ribbons. Harrington’s nostrils flare with each breath before he closes his eyes for a second.  

Eddie isn’t known to make wise choices. One would argue bad decisions run in his blood, screwing things up his very own a generational pattern.

“Uh, you okay, man?”

Harrington’s eyes snap open. Eddie should have never opened his mouth. With Harrington’s intense eyes on him, he feels like Icarus, flying too close to the sun. Steve smiles. Eddie is going to crush and burn any minute now.

“Yeah, sorry,” he keeps his voice light but there’s underlying tension that hasn’t been there before. His eyes appear almost glazed over when he looks over to Billy Hargrove. Eddie’s gut-instinct wants to pin the strange interaction on some jock-code that he is simply not familiar with but that’s not all there is to it. Eddie has fallen victim to the rumor mill many a time during his prolonged high school career and so he tries not to lean into them too much, even when the juicy news of a fight between the former and new king of Hawkins High broke out. One look at Harrington now and he knows, deep down, the impressive shiner on Steve’s face last fall has truthfully been Hargrove’s doing.

Doesn’t matter, really, because Harrington, emanating a true father-at-vacation energy, claps his hands together with too much enthusiasm. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road.”

Getting the show on the road, so to speak, is Abby, a freshman, who does not at all look very confident. Eddie cannot, for a fact, tell if the time passes too fast or too slow as the whistle toots and Abby is on the go, then Nigel, and then-

Eddie leans forward, bends his knees. Suddenly there’s a weight in his hand. Someone is screaming for him to ‘ go, go, go’ !

And Eddie does what he does best. He runs.

By the halfway point, his lungs are on fire, his legs feel like jello. His hair flies out of his bun and he can barely see but, he muses, he might as well try and actually finish something for once. And it’s not because Steve Harrington happens to be waiting on the other side. But maybe that’s a bonus. Who can tell?

The second his hand touches Harrington’s and passes on the stick, his legs give out from underneath him and he falls on his ass with a deeply unsatisfying thunk .

“Nice job, Munson,” says a blurry hand with a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” he says, or tries to, though it comes out slurred. A big swing of water helps.

“You okay?” Robin leans over him before taking a whiff of L’eau d’Eddie and promptly taking an out.

“Aw, I knew you cared, Buckley.”

“I just don’t want you to hurl all over my shoes,” she simply says.

Somehow they are not last. Eddie doesn’t know whether he helped at all or is it simply the power of Steve Harrington’s godlike legs that did all the heavy-lifting, but they finish off in second place, right after Hagan.

Eddie would never admit it out loud, not under threats of death, but it was…kind of fun. Satisfying.

“Eddie, you were amazing!” Harrington runs up to him, sweat pooling over his forehead and neck and Eddie has to stop himself from offering to lick it off.

“Hu-?”

“You never mentioned you’re this fast!”

“Because I’m not? Have you hit your head on the way here, or-?”

Something weird happens with Harrington’s face for a split second but it’s so quick Eddie doesn’t have the time to properly analyze it before he’s smiling again.  

“Not this time, no,” he forces a chuckle. “But you had fun, right?”

Eddie sighs, flops down on the ground to make it extra dramatic. Eyes closed, he reaches out with his hand to make a tiny gap between his index finger and thumb. “Maybe a little.”

A small laugh rings above him, this time genuine, and he hates how he can feel a lazy grin tug at his lips.

Eddie misses at least one round while he lays on the grass. It’s a blissful fifteen-thirty-forty minutes and he revels in it with every whiff of a colder breeze but by minute forty-two the ground doesn’t seem nearly as comfortable as it used to right after the race. The sun assaults his eyes the moment he opens them and he swiftly sits up, trying to shake off loose twigs and dry grass that have gotten entangled with his hair.

Team Yellow has seen better days. While Eddie lounged in the grass they have become a mass of sweat and red heat-swollen cheeks. Whatever disciplines he’s missed, he is glad he has. They are not last on the leaderboard, though – by what miracle, he cannot figure out.

“Eddie!” Steve Harrington, of course, has been spared the same treatment as his team. Hair slightly whipped by the wind and rosy cheeks, he looks as though he just about stepped out of a salon. A tattered yellow-white-blue volleyball sits against his hip. “Just the guy I was looking for. You willing to give it a try?”

Eddie is not.

Not under any normal-adjacent circumstances anyway but Harrington is, consciously or not, giving him his best rendition of puppy eyes. That and Eddie can feel a heated gaze located on the back of his head coming coach’s way. No matter how tempting, he cannot afford to screw this up.

So, in the driest monotone he can muster, Eddie says, “Been waitin’ for that my whole life.”

“Cool,” is all Harrington says before his achingly warm fingers wrap themselves around Eddie’s wrist and tug him towards the court. Buckley is already standing by the net, sending Eddie a miniscule smile of encouragement when he settles on her left, Harrington just behind him.

“Was worried you were a goner by now,” Gareth calls from the other side of the net, a green ribbon tied to his wrist.

“Nah, you know me, Gare-bear,” he flexes his non-existent biceps. “I'm prime material for the next super athlete.”

Someone – Harrington – chokes and coughs behind him. Eddie refuses to look, contribute to the hot and sticky flush of embarrassment that settles over his organs like slime. He has a reputation to uphold, though, so when Gareth raises his eyebrow, silently asking if he is okay – in this team, with King Steve, here and now – Eddie simply rolls his eyes and conspicuously whispers ‘Little Miss Primadonna’, their little nickname for King Steve back in the day.

He doesn’t like how instead of feeling lighter he just feels sick afterwards.

A resounding whistle starts the first set.

Eddie has forgotten how violent and competitive volleyball can get. He jumps away every time the ball comes anywhere near him, Harrington’s sweaty body miraculously appearing right there and then to save the day. It’s maybe the first time today that he can see blips of annoyance on the jock’s face but then as soon as it appears it smooths out and Steve graces him with yet another smile.

“You don’t have to be afraid of the ball,” Harrington off-handedly tells him in-between sets.

“Yeah, well, you tend to start feeling a little bit wary about it after you’ve been hit in the face a few times,” Eddie can’t help but bite back. Harrington looks sad all of a sudden, as though his friends haven’t been the ones to attempt their best at making Eddie’s face concave. He can’t help but yelp when a hairy mass – Steve’s arm – settles over his back and shoulders.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” Harrington teases but there’s a sincere note in his voice. “I won’t let any balls come near you.”

Harrington – blessed, innocent, Harrington – is thankfully too straight to realize the innuendo he accidentally made but Eddie is most definitely not, face red as he mumbles under his breath ‘I mean, some balls are fine.”

Thankfully he does not hear that either.

Steve keeps his promise with surprising accuracy; no volleyball flies anywhere near Eddie and Harrington is always close by. Which should not bring as much comfort to him as it does. Especially considering Eddie still is unable to figure out why – why is Harrington this nice? Why does he care about Eddie at all? Part of him worries it’s all an act, a grand performance by one King Steve, with a grand finale that promises pain and humiliation right at the crescendo.

Nothing happens.

Well, they lose. Spectacularly. One game, then another, then a third one.

Amid this disaster and despite them being the singularly least athletic team possible, Steve Harrington remains an encouraging and patient captain. Not once does he yell or complain when the majority of the team scrambles away from the ball instead of towards it. Surprising, when Harrington has spent years under the wing of Coach Daniels as the Hawkins High very own basketball team captain.

“You’re good at this,” Eddie thinks out loud, promptly pursing his lips because he did not mean to actually say it. It is in particularly bad self-preservation taste to give a jock more ammo.

“I promised,” is all Steve says with a wink. And for a second, a blink-and-you-miss-it, his eyes go up and down along Eddie’s body, and- But that’s impossible. Harrington is not- He wouldn’t have-

It’s a preposterous cherry on the wild-buck cake he’s been offered today. There must have been a ball hurled his way at one point or another, punching him into another dimension that is similar enough yet decidedly feels a little bit off at every step. He’s rooted in his spot like the idiot that he is. What finally breaks him from the self-induced coma is what caused it in the first place - his ears catch the melodic tune of a Harrington laugh and, just like that, from feet above the ground he falls back to Earth, popping like a balloon with a gun.

For all Buckley piss-poor attempts at appearing done with it all, she sure looks chummy with Steve Harrington all of a sudden, and he does with her as well. It was foolish, stupidly childish, to assume the jock’s attention was for Eddie and Eddie alone.

Harrington pulling out his patented charm with Buckley the same way he did a second ago with Eddie feels like a light stab in his chest. What twists it is them looking Eddie’s way, red cheeks and mirth in their eyes, and letting out a short but audible laugh.

“I’m telling you, dingus.”

 “God, shut up,” but Harrington laughs as he says it, even when he elbows Robin right in the boob.

Dead-set on keeping his eyes on the ground, Eddie tries to move past them. He doesn’t get far.

“Hey, Eddie, I’m trying to convince Robin to go for tug of war,” Harrington tells him for some fucking reason.

“No way, dingus.”

“She’s stronger than she looks,” he adds, poking Buckley in the bicep-less arm. “From carrying that tuba around.”

“Trumpet.”

I haul up the amp at every Corroded Coffin show, Eddie wants to say – would that impress you?

He’s pathetic. He’s fallen from the high pedestal he self-appointed himself at – above the bullshit popularity contest and suffocating do’s and don’ts of small-town’s high school lore – right at the feet of the walking and breathing representation of everything he resents about how the world works, and-

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbles.

A good smoke is exactly what Eddie needs right now. Fill his being with nothing but puffs of smoke. Students and teachers and even some parents roam around the school grounds but his trusty spot behind the gym is free of the intruders. Two cigarettes in, he refuses to feel sorry for himself any longer.

He’s not going to dwell on something that was a pipe dream to begin with. Not too long anyway. Whatever. He’s fine.

He is .

Steve seems wary of him when he gets back but he brushes it off as well as he can and gets in line behind Fred Benson instead. It’s long jump time.

“Robin’s pretty cool, right?” comes a voice behind him. Eddie yelps.

“Jesus Christ, warn a guy.”

Steve has the audacity to look a little sheepish, hand going to scratch at the back of his neck. “Sorry, man.”

Silence.

“Turns out we have some things in common,” he says, then. And stares. For a long time.

“Okay?”

What does he want Eddie to say? You have my blessing? Congrats?

Steve looks slightly discouraged from continuing his ventures but seems willing to trudge on, for whatever reason. “Maybe-“

“Munson, you’re up!”

Oh, thank God .

Eddie may not be the fastest or the strongest but he has years of avoiding bullies under his belt. That is to say, if he wants to avoid someone, he will find a way to become, well, not invisible, but unreachable at the least. It does not help that at this point he understands Harrington’s newfound obsession with him even less. Maybe for a second Eddie could have thought that – well, that doesn’t matter.  

By hour eight and with only one event left, Eddie feels pretty confident he’s going to survive the whole thing after all and not even be on the losing team somehow. That is until Coach Jenkins announces the farewell match.

“Dodgeball! Yellow against blue,” and whistles loud and clear, no room for complaints.

It all goes surprisingly well until it doesn’t. Until there’s a ball flying his way. Until he faceplants into next week.

Of course it’s Steve Harrington who insists on patching him up in the nurse’s office. “I’m the captain,” he says before anyone else can offer. Not that they were people scrambling to do so, really.

“I’m sorry,” Harrington adds when an icepack settles on the side of Eddie’s head once they arrive.

“What for? ‘Far as I can tell it wasn’t you who threw that,” Eddie narrows his eyes. “Right?”

“No, of course not, Eddie, I would never-“ Steve stops himself and Eddie wants so badly to point out that he ‘would ever’, in fact he ‘did ever’, but that would be a lie. King Steve never stooped as law as the likes of Tommy Hagan or other low-esteem high school bullies. King Steve was always above it all, too high and mighty to bother with mundane shit such as head shooting a nerd with a basketball in P.E. or offering a swirlie. Doesn’t make it right, doesn’t make him any less of an asshole for standing by and watching it happen.

But Harrington hasn’t been King Steve for a while now, has he?

It’s morally questionable. It’s confusing.

Eddie thinks he might be having a concussion.

“I promised,” Steve says instead, and Eddie is really even more convinced a visit to the ER is going to be necessary because- “That I wouldn’t let any ball come near you.”

Ah.

A strange oath to so stubbornly hang onto all things considered.

While Eddie struggles to find an appropriate response Steve decides to take it upon himself to start cleaning the scraped knee with a feather-light touch and precision that comes as a surprise. A minute stretches into five, into ten, as he works, clearing his throat at the end.

“I’ve been told that I’ve been,” he makes quotation marks in the air. “acting like a weirdo.”

“Ah. Well. Who am I to disagree with the King?” Eddie juts out his bottom lip and Steve snorts. Clamps a hand to his mouth, embarrassed, though a glint in his eyes betrays him.

“What’s so funny, Harrington?”

“Nothing. Just – I really do have a type,” Steve shrugs.

“Women that are probably too good for you?”

“Mmm, that, too, but also,” he grabs one of the loose strands that have escaped Eddie’s bun and twirls it between his fingers. Heat rushes to his ears fast and warm and he can barely make out what Steve says next. But he does and- “Cute pout. Curly hair. Beautiful brown eyes. Super smart.”

Eddie swallows. “Steve.”

“Not ‘Harrington’ anymore?”

“If this is a joke-“

“It’s not,” Steve’s hand quickly links and tugs at his. “I promise it’s not.”

“I’m a little lost, dude, not gonna lie.”

“The whole day, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. You’re… pretty, so pretty. And Robin insisted that you like me, too,” Steve slows down, disentangles his hands from Eddie’s. “But – did I misread this? I- Don’t leave me hanging like that, man.”

Eddie can see the growing panic in Steve’s eyes, desperation in his voice. He can’t help it, his mind comes to a shattering halt.

“Wait, hold on, I- You’re being serious?” Steve nods. “Okay, shit. I-uh. Fuck.”

“This was a bad idea, wasn't it?” Steve fists his hand in his hair, making a mess of it and oh, Eddie cannot allow that, not unless he’s the one that- “I’m so sorry, Eddie-“

One hand on a grey shirt, one with rings getting tangled in-between strands of puffy hair, two pair of lips collide for just a split second. Only a quick pause follows before they are reunited again, and again, and-

“Does that mean,” Steve asks, breathless, between peppering kisses. “that you’ll go out with me?”

“Keep the kisses coming and you have yourself a deal.”

Steve leans away and smirks. Eddie can’t help the little embarrassing whine that leaves his lips. “We stopped. Why did we stop?”

“Told you it’s all about teamwork.”

[maxzinn]

What bothers me after all this drama is that those users that made the posts calling out the type of fics they were bothered with, didnt actually include like a list of those fics (probably to avoid an entire purge and hatred), and everyone in the comments of those posts just suddenly at a flip of a switch, all could only think about one. single. story...and that was the 2 part fic from the now deactivated account.

So for a fic which diverges from canon by having Aventurine NOT go through the entire rollercoaster of drama and be given a chance at a normal life, everyone and their mother jumped to bully the writer. Please, gimme a break, he could've still become the same charismatic gambler we all know and love, just he would've had an oh idk- a little support system given by the person that got him out of a much crappy life? Seriously, how many fics AREN'T out there which diverge at one point from canon?! Or, even better, ignore the canon completely and they are their own thing! HOW MANY- A LOT OF THEM ARE!

It's like they were bothered that there can be a "what if Aventurine was saved before he went through the rest of that hell?", as if his canon story is the only thing that matters and shouldn't be changed at all - THE MAN IS IN SHAMBLES. HE WANTED TO UNSUBSCRIBE FROM LIFE. And I cant be the only one who doesnt believe that him, as he grow up, didn't wish for someone to come to his aid, to take him out of there, but the more time passed, the more hope he lost and he just "well, guess I'll do this on my own". He. Has. No. One. To. Talk. To. Without. Him. Hidding. Behind. The. Persona. He. Created. No one.

Anon you have said exactly everything that I wanted to hear ‼️

(They all started this mess so I’m not gonna stop till I get my point straight across their faces)

These people CANNOT tell me that Aventurine didn’t want to be saved. They CANNOT tell me he didn’t hope for a helping hand throughout this whole hell.

The IPC had failed him and his race from the very beginning when they failed to protect Sigonia IV and the Avgins from the Katicans, and yet I still see people saying that creating a fic where he was saved is disregarding his effort in surviving like pls- my girl… he wanted to DIE to be with his family again and he’s literally in the clutches of the very same company that FAILED him and his kind. His life is literally in their hands and NO ONE would ever want to be at the mercy of the very same people who failed you.

He’s tired. He thinks so lowly of himself. He thinks he has no worth. He has no self-esteem.

All of that could’ve been avoided if someone had helped him, way before his neck was branded by the slave mark, or even during the time he was enslaved.

Like you said, there are already tons of fics that diverts from the canon story of the character into something that is almost disregarding it, so why is that an issue now?

We all love him the way he is, but don’t you think it’s also insensitive to say that when he himself hated the process or events that transpired to become what he is now?

I give him credit for his hardwork and efforts for staying alive and getting past the hell, but that cost him EVERYTHING. He survived, but he thinks so lowly of himself. He still think he’s only worth 60 tanbas. He didn’t refute Ratio and Sparkle’s insult. He throws his own body on every gamble because he thinks that’s his only worth… and now a simple harmless fic that aimed to provide him a normal life free from that tragedy was frowned upon by everyone just because the reader “bought him as a slave”.

[bots-and-cons]

Hiii! I haven't been requesting anything from you for ages! But here I am with angst request.

Basically how would Wheeljack, Breakdown and Predaking react to their favorite teenage human, who always was seen as that ball of sunshine always smiled or laughed whenever they were near them, or kept them cheered up after failed missions. Just to see that readed slowly starts to lose that shining personality fading into the quiet, low self-esteem shadow of themself, no more laughs and cheering up yk. And just one day never coming to base and finding out from Kids that the reader just permanently moved out far away from Jasper Nevada without any explaination with no saying goodbyes, or answering any calls.

You're always allowed to just simply not write that request if it's too uncomfortable for you.

Don't force yourself into writing that request fast take your time! And I hope you have a nice day or afternoon or night!

Baiii.｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

A/N: Nice to have you back :D I decided to do HCs for this, since it’s always the easier way and I just felt like it fit this better than scenarios, because of the longer time frame. Also, platonic since you asked for the reader to be a teenager. This ended up kinda angsty, but I’m not really surprised given what you asked for. Sorry I cut out Breakdown, seems to have become a bad habit of mine lately

~Predaking~

•Predaking was very protective of you from the very beginning, because you showed him kindness even when he wasn’t quite sentient yet and ever since he transformed for the first time too

•Also he doesn’t really have any actual hatred for humans

•Sure he thinks they’re inferior and weak, but that’s more like pity than hatred

•Anyway, that doesn’t really apply to you, because he actually knows you, so you’re like a whole different thing from the rest of humanity

•You were always so bright and even when your light started to dim, you were still always kind to him and the others

•You started getting quieter and visibly less joyful

•Predaking of course took note of this, because all he’s ever known you to be is a happy, bright, joyful person, so the change is pretty drastic in the end

•It happens gradually, you start talking less and less, and when you did, you always seemed tired and not really interested

•Predaking doesn’t really know what to do about it, because his emotional skills are not very well developed yet, you can’t really learn that kind of stuff from a database after all

•He thought maybe he should let you be, because he didn’t want to make you feel worse

•Eventually you started coming to the Nemesis less and less, before you finally stopped all together

•Predaking tried to get in contact with you after he didn’t hear from you for a week, he asked Soundwave to locate you

•He refused, because he had more important things to do apparently, so Preadaking wasn’t really left with many choices with how to get in contact with you

•Actually he was left with just one, he decided to go to where you lived

•He just landed in the middle of the street and looked in your window

•There were no curtains and he could see that the room was totally empty

•You were gone, you’d left and he had no idea where you’d gone

•Predaking tried but he could never find you, you were gone and there was this odd emptiness in his chest

•He’d lost his best and only friend and he now regretted that he never said anything to you when he noticed you deteriorating

~Wheeljack~

•Jackie didn’t really notice it at the time, but you were going downhill at a steady pace

•When he started thinking back on it after you left, he had seen you getting worse, but there had been so many things going on he hadn’t really had time for you

•Ever since he met you, you had always been so happy and it seemed like nothing could get you down

•But eventually the fear got to be too much, you were so tired of being scared of the decepticons all the time

•You started to wither away, but you never talked to anyone about it, Jackie was very regretful he didn’t notice

•You stopped going to school and barely ever left your home

•Your parents noticed this, they thought you were getting bullied or something, so they decided a move to another town would be best

•You didn’t fight them on it, you had no reason to

•You wanted to get away from the autobots, because if you weren’t with them, the decepticons would have no reason to target you

•It’s not like you hated them, not at all, Jackie was a great friend and it sucked you had to leave them behind, but you couldn’t live like that anymore

•The constant terror was killing you, you were so stressed and exhausted, and you had to get away from it

•You never told Jackie that you would be moving away, you couldn’t, you didn’t want to, because you knew he would try to change your mind

•You left and the bots found out when the kids heard about it in school

•Jackie did want to go find you and talk to you about it, but in the end he didn’t want to trample on what you had decided

•There must have been a reason you didn’t want him to know where you were going, why you left, but he could never figure it out

[prettyrealm]

interview series: doja cat edition

July 27th 2023

doja cat’s current energy:

she’s feeling very affectionate and nurturing right now (i’m assuming towards her relationship/partner) she’s also not taking any sort or criticism nor is she interested in any sort of self reflection at the moment. she feeling herself for sure & feels accepted by the people that matter most to her and that’s what she’s focusing on. people thinking they can criticize her is causing her to be super rebellious and she feels as if she’s claiming personal her authority with the way she’s acting. she feels as if everyone and everything is working against her and out to get her. it’s like she’s right to feel “controlled” but at this point she’s fighting for fighting’s sake. like even if you’re agreeing with her, you’re doing it wrong. she’s trusting her impulses and acting on them and she refuses to let anyone throw her back into self doubt. if im being honest, it feels a bit manic. i think she’s being quite patient in her relationship as well and things aren’t actually going as well as she hoped. she sees the man in her life right now as very careless and irresponsible, not very dependable and even a bit disappointing but she wants to stick by him despite this. i think she’s also still dealing with betrayal from a friend.

does doja cat really hate her music from hot pink and planet her?

no, she doesn’t actually hate her music from these albums. i think she’s just tired of it and is only saying she hates it because everyone else likes it so much. contrarian vibe, but she knows it’s good. i think it’s more about the unhappy emotions she attaches to the music from that time.

is doja cat acting up to get her label to drop her because she doesn't like her contract?

nope.

how does doja cat feel about her fans right now?

she feels the need to disrupt them and get things shaking. it’s like she thinks “my real ones will stay regardless” almost like she’s purging out the fakes. she feels very strongly about them (genuinely love to hatred) and knows they gave her power and she can do whatever she wants with it now (including cuss them out) she feels they need to learn to be their own people and that they’re too superficial and can’t see beyond the surface. she does feel safe for the most part though and as if she can see who’s truly devoted and a fan of her for (what she thinks) are the right reasons

was doja cat ever bullied for being black/biracial?

yes, she definitely was.

did doja cat’s mother contribute to her issues with blackness?

yes, I believe so. not on purpose or in a malicious way or anything though. it seems she just genuinely didn’t know how to raise a biracial/black child, but i think tried her best? there was A LOT of struggle here though.

how does doja cat feel about j.cyrus right now?

she feels he will overcome everything people are throwing at him and she feels he’s quite confident. she wants them to come out of this strong. she feels he deserves a new start.

how does doja cat feel about fans reaction to her dating j.cyrus?

she feels miserable and a bit devastated and i think that may be what caused her to adopt this whole “idgaf” attitude about the whole thing. but in reality, i think she may even have shed tears over this. she knows this is attached to her forever and may even feel insecure in her friendships because of it. she knows people are looking at her like she’s a terrible person.

how does doja cat feel about the allegations against j.cyrus?

i think she thinks he’s been honest and faithful and is choosing to trust in him during this time. i don’t think she even believes in the allegations, she’s choosing to be naive, thoughtless & rash when it comes to this and honestly, straight up stupid. she’s upset about the allegations overall though.

[youareinlovetv]

“The Archer” by Taylor Swift describes the autistic experience perfectly. here’s why.

i know it’s not meant to be about autism, but its themes correlate really well with what people like me go through.

Combat, I’m ready for combat

I say I don’t want that, but what if I do?

the “combat” in this case usually refers to the mental battles we have to go through, against other people and against ourselves. bullying, hatred, ableism, as well as trying to mask, hide every trait of ourselves from people, to appear as normal as possible.

Easy they come, easy they go

I jump from the train, I ride off alone

when you’re autistic, it’s extremely hard to not only make friendships, but maintain them. people can drop you for many reasons, like when it seems like you’re “distant” or “rude” or “blunt”. often times, when this happens time and time again, we just give up because we’re tired of being treated this way. so we ride alone, by ourselves, with no one else.

I never grew up, it’s getting so old

we can often seem childish for not be able to take care of ourselves as well as others, or even just our mannerisms (stimming, tics, etc) and it gets old because we get older. we’re put to the expectations of other neurotypicals our age, but we can never reach them.

Help me hold onto you

this lyric comes up a lot in the song, and i think it represents desperately trying to find SOMEONE who will accept you. trying to find anyone. because you KNOW you can’t go through this alone, but you can’t find anyone.

I’ve been the archer, I’ve been the prey

in this case, we’ve been the prey our whole lives because of what i mentioned earlier. being the archer could either be taking out our anger and pain onto others, or taking it out on ourselves, making us both the archer and the prey at the same time.

Who could ever leave me darling, but who could stay?

when we have friends, it always seems like it’s going fine (at least from my experience). you never see the signs of them being rude to you because you can’t notice them. the “who could stay” part comes after you find out about these signs that should’ve been “obvious” to you. so you ask, who could stay? who could be my friend? who could support me? because it seems like no one will.

Dark side, I search for your dark side

But what if I’m all right, right, right, right here?

when we’ve been hurt so many times, we try to look for ways people are hurting us, trying to protect ourselves. a lot of the time, those ways aren’t even there, but we believe they are. when people demonize you for your autistic traits, you start to doubt yourself and wonder if you were the one who was being cruel, and that your dark side was there all along, but everyone else’s wasn’t.

And I cut off my nose just to spite my face

And I hate my reflection for years and years

self hatred spreads. in this case, it starts out with hating how you act. hating that you’re autistic. but it spreads to other things, like your appearance. not only because you just generally hate yourself, but because a lot of the time we think if we look good, that could make up for our “faults”.

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost

The room is on fire, invisible smoke

our struggles most of the time are invisible to others. even when we’re in distress, no one really knows the root of the distress. we’re masking the pain away, or we’re going into another room so they don’t know we’re crying, or we’re deflecting and playing down our struggles when we are seen in distress.

And all of my heroes die all alone

when the average person is asked to think about an autistic person, usually what they think of is not people who have made an impact or have done great things, but the stereotypes we have. the stereotype of that train obsessed white boy who’s super smart or a kid who is “stupid” because of “how they move” or something like that. and so when an autistic person thinks of this, we’re often projecting this onto ourselves in the sense that we think we won’t make it in the world because of this.

They see right through me

They see right through me

They see right through, can you see right through me

They see right through me

They see right through me

I see right through me

I see right through me

this is the most relatable and impactful line in the song to me. the fact that even though we’re trying desperately to keep the mask on and look “normal”, we know it’s not working.

All the king’s horses, all the king’s men

Couldn’t put me together again

other people try to help us, but often give subpar advice like “just stop crying!” and “just don’t be overwhelmed!” when that doesn’t work. so we can’t be put back together again when we break down and aren’t able to be consoled.

Cause all of my enemies started out friends

this is self-explanatory. we try to make friends with everyone, but we’re seen as “off putting” or “wrong”. and they become our enemies.

in short, this is why this song is incredibly accurate and close to me as a person. it’s one of my favorite songs of all time. and i hope this helps at least one neurodivergent person out there. that’s all <3

[mariailoveyou-guerin]

People still making Mariana out to be the devil is so funny to me because they love white woman who do worse let’s say Georgia from G&G the same people who love her and think she’s badass amazing mother for doing everything children also love and watch Bridgerton but are call marina most vile cruel things all bc she too wanted to do what was best for her and her child everyone and their mothers how much I love and will die for Penelope but even she’s done unspeakable things to Colin Eloise and his family but they still ship her with him but Marian tries to trap him and she’s the demon span or the devil himself it’s so hilarious to me because it’s not them looking out or caring about Colin it’s them being flat out racist and they act like we don’t see it and pretending to hide their hatred for marina by saying she’s not a good person like ma’am neither is pen when she’s writting most cruel things about the guy she loves and his family and Mariana just say y’all racist and hate Mariana bc of misogynior and go stop hiding behind wanting best for Colin cuz my perfect baby still wanted to marry her and liked her even when pen told him about Mariana plans he understood her and acted like the perfect gentleman he is so don’t even pretend to be doing all that hatred and cruelty and name calling in Colin honour bc he would spit on your face if he wasn’t such a perfect gentleman!

It’s not shocking that a yt show has so many old hag yt woman hating on the one and only black character in a world they think black people don’t belong or shouldn’t be in because it’s not historic accuracy or whatever or don’t think black people don’t exist I haven’t seen polin stans hate Kate but I think they would’ve if she was somehow in the way or was an interesting enough character that was getting attention just because it’s taking away from their self insert yt girl they identify with (bc men probably never looked at them and they feel like Penelope book version at least with how she looks down on herself in comparison to other girls and the men thank god tv pen is amazing badass queen who has her own flaws but bigger better complexities) being centre of the story thankfully was so bland and boring she couldn’t take attention away from anything or anyone which is shame for an actress like Simone!

I don’t even know or like marina or if her name even is marinina because I’ve only seen s2 and I’m pen polin Edwina and Benedict person do not care about anyone else but them and ofc the queen the OG queen ofc! I just think it’s tired seeing so many polin editors making marina out to be devil all bc she lied like my best beautiful hiro Penelope ain’t been lying to her men and bestie for years the hypocrisy the double standards and the obvious racism and misogynior of it all makes me sick to my stomach y’all don’t like her and you are getting your polin season and she ain’t even there nor has she been a problem so why y’all still on her ass it’s weird and it’s showing y’all loser insecurities over a character that’s no longer there who was never ever a thread because show keeps sticking to the books ending so let the girl go and leave in leave and stop this very obvious racism as pen fan y’all make me sick!!

What gets me the most is they like Anthony of all men Anthony the most horrible vile character on that whole show but wanna speak on marina please it’s plain and simple racism anti black and misogynior the end stop lying to yourself making excuses shes mean cruel nah it’s not that it’s bc she’s black and dared to get with ur yt boy fav Colin and tried taking something y’all think belongs to ur yt girl self insert fav Penelope simple af!

[limeade-l3sbian]

Any lesbians or febfems that don’t like receiving oral here? To me it’s such a violating thing to be put through. Like I don’t want anyone touching me there, much less putting their mouth there. Dunno what to do. It’s not that I can’t feel arousal but I just don’t and haven’t ever felt that comfortable with other touching me and since the intimacy during such an act is especially high, it’s just a no. Makes me feel like a shitty person and unsure what to do. I’m not like someone who just loves to only give, I would love to be able to receive too. Sex to me is something you share. So being incapable of comfortably sharing that with anyone on my own end is discouraging. Not sure if it stems from a hatred of my own body or insecurity. Something else? Whatever it is, it’s really tiring.

It's interesting, because your dilemma is a bit turned on its head lol. Generally, someone who doesn't like to give oral but likes to receive it is either unabashed or feels a little guilty for it.

Look, I think it's first and foremost that you're definitely not a shitty person because of this. The body is, in the most secular sense, a temple. You spend the most time in it and with it! It's not odd to feel a certain trepidation at someone seeing/touching it.

It's also interesting that this isn't a matter of only wanting to give, which was my first reaction. You said that you feel is to be shared! I don't have a definitive answer and I'm sure other gyns here will hop in the replies and give some better advice.

In regards to potential body/self-esteem issues, you can ask yourself a lot of things. is my body 'ugly?' (It's not). Do I deserve pleasure too? Do I think women are capable of being attracted to my body? Center your body in your thinking.

Or maybe it's sensory issues? Maybe the feeling of hands that aren't your own touching you is an issue. Do you only have an issue being touched in bed or do you avoid physical contact in everyday life as well?

I wish I was fancy enough in the brain to solve your dilemma right here right now. But I do wish you the best. <3

[brdnbrgcncrt]

Vent

Moral scrupulosity and my obsession over not wanting to harm anyone is kind of ruining my entire sense of self. I dont know who I am without these fears but I wish I could just let go and be that person.

I’m afraid I’ll push everyone away from me if I’m only slightly bitchy or snarky so I always coddle everyone all the time and I’m sooo very careful with people. If someone crosses one of my boundaries I usually wait hours or days to tell them because I’m busy obsessing over what the correct response to that is, and I’ll even write everything out and plan it and consider each and every outcome.

I’m so tired of it, I just want to be myself and I want to let people be drawn to me because of who I really am. I obsess over how I’m perceived, I worry that people will see me in a way that I don’t approve of and I want each and every word I say to reflect my moral principles and who I am. But I’ll never reach that goal unless I let myself act naturally, none of this normal and its all fully 100% fake

I’m so disappointed in myself. I hate who I am right now. And I’m even afraid that if I post this, people will see me expressing insecurities and self hatred as a sign of weakness, and they’ll think I’m not worth respecting if I cant even respect myself

But then again I dont know what Im so worried about when I’m rarely ever being perceived. Nobody thinks about me as much as I believe they do. I’m just delusional and self obsessed

[babsvibes]

Hey If you don’t mind if I ask what was the inspiration for your story

It’s my party and I’ll fry if I’ll want to

Like the plot line or the character dynamic’s etc

AND AND Like WHY couldn’t Louise see that she’s in LOVE with Logan!!!!!

I absolutely don’t mind and in fact am thrilled that you want to know more about this piece! Thank you for asking!

It’s My Party (and I’ll fry if I want to): Rated E. “From the way the chairs on either side of her remain empty to the way the bartender—whose name she can’t bother to remember—never stays too long in her corner, Louise determines they’re all scared of the woman who mutters to herself while tearing paper label after paper label.”

The important thing about this story, no matter the inspiration, is that Louise, Logan, and Rudy ALL needed to be shown as complicated individuals, sympathetic and not at the same time, or none of it would have mattered. There is no completely right or wrong answer to life, and shit is messy in It’s My Party.

The inspiration for the character dynamics is actually a pretty uncomplicated answer! I asked “what would happen if I cranked these characters flaws up to 11” and then boom. Done. I wrote a few more notes on this on chapter two of this fic. As for the inspiration for the piece itself?

I won’t lie to you, this started as spite fic. It was only supposed to be the first scene in the bar, and Louise was originally going to leave with Logan then and there. I was in a place where I was tired of seeing Logan written as a villain, but never… in character? So, in the way that Linda explains how to throw a shrimp, I said “That’s not how you write Logan as a villain. THIS is how you write Logan as a villain.”

But then it… evolved? I sat down to write and just more and more things poured out until I realized I couldn’t write a spite fic, nor did I ever really want to. I had something more nuanced I wanted to say. Something that was meaningful—to me at least. And when you’re dealing with nuance, there’s not room for a Good Guy and a Bad Guy.

It also probably isn’t all that surprising that this is a… deeply personal story. Deeply personal, but also a story shared by a lot of people—usually women but not always. When you grow up being told that the way you think and act is in some way inherently wrong by institutions (for me, it was my family, my religion, my community), it’s not something you can shrug off. And sometimes you unfortunately start playing a part that isn’t right for you because maybe it’s supposed to make things “easier,” maybe it’s supposed to be “good.” And also, sometimes, it starts manifesting as self-hatred.

As an outsider, it’s easy to look at Louise’s situation and think “man… she really needs to leave Rudy,” but that undermines that she does love him and him needing her is going to mean something. Yes, she loves Logan too, but the theme of “love” isn’t what’s pulling the most strings (even though, yes, it definitely should be a focus, and that’s one of the reasons this story happens in the first place).

The relationship between Want and Need ends up playing a much bigger role. Louise may know she wants Logan but she is too disconnected from herself to be able to tell what she needs. Aren’t there some pieces of you that have wanted to be needed? Being needed is like being handed a purpose on a silver platter, and that’s hard to turn down even if it’s draining every last ounce of your spirit. This coincides with Logan and Rudy’s feelings towards her. Logan says it flat out at one point, “I want you, but he needs you.” That contraction with the “but” is meant to imply that the reverse is also true. Logan doesn’t need Louise and Rudy doesn’t want her. Or, at least, that’s how they’re presenting themselves. How is Louise supposed to be able to tell which is more valuable when she’s already so disconnected? Why does each one come with a catch?

And that’s how you get a story like It’s My Party.

Anyway, I’m just now realizing you may have wanted to know the answer behind this specific plot (ie: Louise and Rudy are in an unhappy relationship when her ex Logan moves back into town). It felt like the best way to explore closure and unmet needs by having these contrasting separations (physical and emotional) pulling Louise in different directions and confusing her.

Also, straight up, if I can be real with you… the idea of finally taking what you want even when it’s wrong is hot 🔥

[lovebugdotcom]

Making my own rant so that I don’t end up fighting someone in the notes of their post 😭

I’m so tired of seeing Belphegor stans say stuff like “you only hate Belphegor because he was the only one who succeeded in killing the MC. The other brothers are just as bad.”

And I think they misunderstand where a lot of our frustration for him comes from. When the other characters tried to attack the MC, it was because they did something that upset or provoked them. (Do I think the MC ever deserved to be attacked? No. And I wish there was actually consequences for that stuff.) It’s different in the case of Belphegor. MC risked their life and worked real hard to get those pacts and free him from the attic, just to be rewarded with betrayal and death.

Once it was revealed that he hated humans, I expected his reason for it to be worse, but what happened to Lilith wasn’t even humanity’s fault, or even a single human’s fault. The guy Lilith was seeing didn’t even know she was an angel, it’s not like he manipulated her into healing him or anything like that. Lilith made that choice on her own. That said, I understand that his hatred for humanity was really just him redirecting his survivor’s guilt and self-hatred towards anyone but himself.

But what really frustrates me is that I could have forgiven Belphegor if Obey Me’s writing was better. His reason for hating humanity wasn’t very logical, but neither is survivor’s guilt, so I was prepared to forgive him if Obey Me did a good job of redeeming him, but then that just….. didn’t happen. There wasn’t even an apology from him. Outside of one mention, the attic incident was never talked about again. And MC had to go right back to doing free family therapy after getting murdered. The time I thought would be spent focusing on the relationship of MC and Belphegor and him working to rebuild trust with them was just spent with MC having to help the guy that betrayed them get close to his brothers again.

The whole Lilith thing doesn’t really help at all either, because even though he says that he “doesn’t just like them because of Lilith”, it’s hard to believe that when the game is telling us this instead of showing us, another problem I have that could have been solved if the writing was better. He did a full 180 from wanting MC dead to wanting to be around them constantly. Since the time between the attic incident and them forming a pact was just spent with MC mending the brother’s relationship with them, it just doesn’t feel as if they’ve bonded in a meaningful way. The other brothers went through their stages of aggression/indifference with MC and had to learn to see them as a person with value without the knowledge that they descended from Lilith. The fact Belphegor wasn’t given the chance to do this really hurts his character. His potential was squandered and I just can’t bring myself to like him.

I just don’t think Belphegor’s character and arc are well written, dudes, I’m sorry 😭😭

[lordcatwich]

warning this is. Kinda a very personal vent and I'm sorry. Maybe don't read this. Warnings for self-hatred(?) And um. It's sorta visceral honestly

I’m scared

What do they want?

I’m 14 and I’m not ready for anything.

I’m supposed to be ready.

My brain isn’t ready.

The options are Be traumatized but with less stress, and be stressed out of your entire fucking goddamn mind with less trauma.

I’ve chosen both. Both are hell. I don’t like asking people for anything, not favors, not time to talk, not instructions for what to do. I can’t take notes. I can’t focus. I’m tired, I stay up late for free time that I give myself the illusion of not having because i procrastinate. I just wanna stay here at home and never leave. Homework doesn’t matter to me, nothing matters, and now I’m just tired. I can’t make myself do things my brain doesn’t appreciate, and I have no accommodations, and I feel like I Will Die. Fuck.

No one’s ever gonna help me at this rate huh i’m an idiot stupid fucking little bitch who can’t keep his priorities straight I’m never gonna be able to do things right everything i love is gonna go away because I can’t do things right fuck I’m an idiot i guess this is why I like FUCKING escaping into my friends because reality feels like a very light version of hell

I’m never gonna succeed

I’m never gonna be liked until I stop being fucking neurodivergent i guess

Nothing matters and I don’t care and the only reason I do things i hate is so that I can stay here.

I don’t wanna fail

And then the fucking medical industry goes “yeah this kid looks normal let’s wait a year to give them a fucking autism diagnosi-”

sorry that fucking bullshit nonsense seeps into everything nowadays. God i’m sorry if you read this

[hades-a-fenyx]

I’ve never been treated like a person, i grew up as a pet. The people around me constantly put me down to build themselves up & make themselves feel superior. The guilt, the abuse, the unjustified hatred & the lack of understanding. Growing up in such a way caused a true & pure resentment for humanity, the only things I’ve ever been able to connect with over the years have been art, animals & my own twisted psyche. I don’t open up to humans because they disgust me. i see through all their words & actions & behind those things lies only self preservation. So i’m done, i’m done letting humans preserve themselves through my misfortune. My soul is old, my body has been poisoned, my mind is tired, my spirit is broken & my heart doesn’t want to beat anymore. I closed myself off & numbed myself to protect me against humanity but as i grew older i grew lonely, i wanted something to be as permanent & as immortal as me. I succeeded, i gave the world something more beautiful than humans will ever comprehend. Now what have humans done with the beauty i gifted them? they turned the very gift i gave them into weapons to be used against me & yet i’m not angry, I’m not surprised, if anything i’m understanding. I still hold love for humanity somewhere in my heart but as I’ve aged I’ve felt my heart shrink & the feelings of love, joy & compassion have become more faint. Now the feeling inside me that speaks the loudest is a thirst, a hunger, a pain so deep it feels like my chest is being pierced by a white flame. Mortals who are so easily satisfied by such frivolous things could never understand such an insatiable desire, so for the moment i find pride in the fact I’ve been able to keep such intense feelings at bay for so long. But if there ever comes a time where I lose the fight to these feelings & become feral, i want people to know i tried with everything i had. But similar to a Lion torn from Africa & pulled away from his cubs to perform in a circus, i feel trapped, i feel lost, i feel confused but more than all that i feel ready. Ready to attack the second the cage is opened, ready to tear humanity apart for what they’ve taken from me, my freedom, my trust & my comfort. So when the cage doors are opened & the circus that is human society gets destroyed, the only thing to blame would be the humans themselves.

[brolantra]

People put God in a box because that’s the only way some people can make sense of anything.. putting things and people and concepts in boxes. Indoctrination and dogma has completely separated everyone from truth and from one another. But God is so much bigger than any box that’s ever been placed on him (and her.. them, if you will.) This is one of those years you’re gonna see the lid of that box blown clean off. And in the years to come. Spirit… source… the universe… God…. speaks to people in many different ways… and they’re all valid. The biggest mistake humanity has ever made is believing only “their” God is the right God. The biggest mistake the so called conscious community has made is convincing people they are God all on their own. We are co creators. We are the Gods of our reality. But God is the palm.. and we are the fingers. Going by that philosophy, if you’re not connected to the palm you’re just an amputated finger.. lifeless & rotting. I’m thankful for the path God called me to. Learning about so many different spiritual beliefs, ancient religions, practices & philosophies. I see it all for what it is. It’s all extensions of the same energy source. We are all extensions of that energy source. As humans we are hard wired to worship, and if you don’t cultivate a genuine relationship with some higher representation of God and follow the principles set forth (cuz that’s what really matters ultimately), you are bound to worship money, material possessions, or something dark. & you’ll convince yourself that’s not what you’re doing. You can’t survive this reality without money… but so many people desire money not to merely survive.. but to run as far away from themselves and their truth as possible. I’ll never subscribe to this belief that healing means suppressing your feelings and ignoring the truth of our realities. We are fully divine, but we are also fully human. And that’s where God wishes to meet us. In our humanity… that’s why we’re here to begin with. To experience the full range of human emotions.. tragedy.. trauma.. triumph… and true healing. We are here to learn lessons that will aide us in the evolution of our souls. And we’re here to serve the bigger picture… whether we realize exactly what part we play or not, we all have a part to play. I’ve been stripped of everything 3 different times in the past 8 years. And I’ve been shown every time that God always provides. I grew up in a Christian family. I can remember being 8 or 9.. experiencing so much trauma in my home and just pleading with God. Telling God that I wanted to believe but everything I was experiencing was making it so hard. God made me a promise, a promise I’ll never fully share online. I’m reminded of that promise all the time tho, and I know God is real. The way God shows up in my life would knock most peoples socks off.. a lot of my experiences I keep to myself partially because I know it sounds crazy but mostly because it be between me and God for real. Im reminded all the time that my path is my own and extremely personalized. I’ve had a very unique path because I have a very unique destiny. There’s nothing in this world that can shake my faith… nothing. Other peoples hatred, pessimism, and boxes will never convince me my real lived experiences did not happen. I have my whole mind. And I know who I am. I have fully self actualized and I know exactly who governs this body. I also know I STILL wouldn’t be shit without the God outside of me either. I’ve healed bipolar disorder, chronic anxiety, and I’m on my way to healing c-ptsd too. Where I’m headed… the things God has called me to do… can only be accomplished by me and it requires me to heal all of this shit. So I can show others just how possible it really is. Thankful & blessed beyond measure. I get tired.. I grow weary & frustrated. But my trust in God outweighs every single one of my worries or frustrations. Even through the pain I remain grateful & excited for a future I can’t consciously conceive just yet.. but I know it’s coming 🥹

[lucidfulcrum]

Wave machine, white noise you asked how I feel? If I knew I’d turn the Feeling Machine off break it for good. The mechanism that cause me to feel the method by which you steal my heart hide in the dark and break it apart into pieces like an Easter egg hunt I’m putting it back together and I don’t ever want to feel the feelings I felt with you ever again. I thought you and I would go like Warriors into the setting sun bereft of everything and fearing no one . It was you and me vs the world I’m the perfect man & you are so much more than the perfect girl. How did you decide that it was time to hide? When you still had my entire heart inside your rib cage the only cage I felt more free than any high I ever self induced to forget about you. Don’t want to die but there’s too much emptiness inside . The echo like hunger pains after having left a beggars banquet of love and lies. Gorged myself gouged out your eyes as you lay silver platter and apple mouth. Told my guests that’s the most tender part of a pig and whore eat up she’s fat and has plenty more meat to go around. Yeah I only hate you now and you’ve been dead to me now for years. You called told me you were free from the misery and wondered if we could see, see our way back to a place a kin to the time I kissed your face for the first time. That Hall Road feeling left me with butterflies flying so high pulled the rug and left me bleeding believing your brothers lies lies he got from another whore who had him trapped between her thighs . It’s alright because it all starts with mom, and how she wants me to herself sabotage every love I ever felt on this earth and turned into some cheap numerology parlor trick . Abusing numbers the way she abused me when she was a 27 year old bullying my four year old self. Felt hatred and nothing else since -that’s how I feel deep in me -a hate machine programmed by your lying hands. Just an artificially intelligent replicant you needn’t worry about I might just kill you in your sleep before I die inside for the umpteenth time. If you would ever wake up from that manufactured reality in a Coma from the Soma you copped in Ramona on your way to the San Diego I dreamt of burning got tired of it turning good people out to fend for a fever a disease that tells you you don’t have a disease and that there’s no need to seek help for me, I’m after a;l just your own disease like any personal pizza you’d treat yourself too on your lunch break from a job you hate going home to checkmate the one you vowed your eternal soul too wondering who they rather fuck tonight than you.

[basementinternet]

My emotions control me, I do not have control over them

I’m so fatigued from feeling every emotion at once while feeling none at all

I’m tired of feeling emotions down to my bones

Emotions that physically hurt me

My body cannot take this much longer

It is tired

So am I

I see the world in black and white, there’s never any color

If it’s not good then it’s bad

If it wasn’t a miracle then it’s the end of the world

I am borderline and I cannot fix that

I am a broken mirror

I am a missing piece of a puzzle

I am not myself

I am not original

I regurgitate sayings and snippets from those around me to to seem even slightly normal

I am simply a dress up game

Changing to comfort other people while constantly hating myself

Crying is bad and weak so I must be weak

But it’s only weak when I do it because I know I’m being dramatic

I know that I’m only crying because my brain can’t register

I watch myself self destruct and destroy everything I have built and I am helpless to stop it

I’m aware of this decisions yet I cannot move to change them.

I cannot stop myself from destroying myself

I tear into my body and brain constantly

Trying to fix it

Trying to fix myself and I only worsen it

I am borderline

My personality isn’t real, it’s simply a disorder

I’m messed up because the people who were supposed to take care of me were also messed up

I fall into a never changing cycle except I have worsened it

I attempted to get help and try to live normally instead of ignoring it and it made things worse

I’m falling directly into my mother’s cycle

The woman I tried so hard to not be

I did everything I could to break the connection between me and my mother to avoid being her replacement and I failed

I followed directly down her path yet somehow ended up worse

Is it strange to resent a woman you don’t remember

A woman who only stays in your memory as a hospital visit

As a death through a young child’s eyes

A child so withdrawn into herself that she didn’t catch on when others did

A child so lost that the death of a woman she doesn’t remember changed her entire life

I am my mother’s child

I do not have a me only a reflection of those I speak too

I care so dearly for my friends that I refuse to grow angry or change at all from this comedian front

I am horrified when how I am truly falls through

My anger is something I am disgusted by but also afraid of

I’m scared of it

It’s something that needs to be dealt with but I am so terrified that I avoid it

Instead of directing my anger into others, I pour it into myself

So much hatred towards myself just so others aren’t upset with me

I am not mentally well and I never will be

I have never helped anyone

I have done nothing useful or kind

I am not a good person nor will I ever be

I am the person I hate the most

I am my own enemy.