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edamameimei · 4 months ago

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something, somehow, someday (megan skiendiel x reader)

"they're a whiskey drinking, barely thinking, got no destination. she's a plane ride home."

synopsis: you're known for your bad reputation on campus. people often talk about your wild escapades and have dubbed you as 'bad news.' but the way you look at megan, the way you smile at her, tells her otherwise. tags: JUST FLUFF. university au! an: just want to put out there that this is not a REAL portrayal of the people mentioned in this fic. all events are fictional and are for entertainment purposes only. CW: drinking, smoking, kissing, lots of swearing lol wc: 4605

⏯ now playing: something, somehow, someday - role model

Megan lays her head in your lap, eyes closed, listening carefully to the audiobook playing through your earphones. She spotted you lying on the grass in the quad after class and decided to say hello. Originally, you were reading the book on your own but once Megan joined you, you decided to switch to the audiobook, starting from the beginning.

You look down at the Chinese girl and smile softly.

No words could describe this feeling. But it was clear to you and her, and that’s what matters.

Megan first meets you in a coffee shop right next to campus.

After ordering, she looks down at her wallet and realizes she left her credit card in her car.

She looks up, her eyes wide. The person at the register tells her the total again, but Megan is not really sure how to ask if she could run and grab her card. She is aware of how long the line already is and considers giving up on her coffee run altogether until someone walks up beside her, their card in their hands. Megan looks over and sees you. Her breath catches in her throat because oh, wow. You don’t notice her mental gymnastics as you tack on your coffee order and give the person at the register your credit card.

Megan looks down at your hands and sees your chipped nail polish. She’s curious about the dried paint that stains them.

When she looks back up, she sees you smiling at her with an amused glint in your eyes. Together, you two walk over to the other side of the counter to wait for your orders. Megan looks at you with a shy smile. “That was… Really embarrassing… I am so sorry…” You shake your head, waving her off. You respond with a chuckle, “It’s no problem. You seemed stressed. We all have those days.” Megan nods, sighing loudly. “Yeah… Classes kicked my ass all day so I decided to get a sweet treat.” You laugh loudly at her words. You look at her, your curiosity about the ginger girl piqued. “Do you go to school at the university nearby?” She nods, smiling at you and your heart beats quickly.

“Yeah. You?” You nod as well, rubbing the back of your neck. “Yep. I’m a Studio Art major.” She lights up at your words, the dried paint on your hands making more sense. You both fall into an easy conversation. Megan finds herself laughing at all your poor jokes, listening to you ramble about an art professor she has no idea about, and follows every time you change the subject unexpectedly. She observes that your mind must go at a 100 Mph and finds it rather endearing. Eventually, your name is called and she can’t help but feel disappointed, knowing the conversation with you will have to end.

You grab your coffees and you offer to walk her to her car. She waves you off, smiling. “No, don’t worry about it. You probably have a million other things to do. You already did so much just now.” You look down at your invisible watch, pretending to check the time. You look up, shrugging your shoulders. “It looks like my schedule is pretty empty.” You say playfully and it makes Megan giggle. She nods, accepting the invitation to continue talking with you. Purposefully, the walk to her car is slow. It was only down the block but neither of you cared. In the few minutes it takes to get to her car, Megan finds out you’re a K-Pop fan, prefer painting over drawing, and a huge nerd. You learn that Megan loves to dance, she’s from Hawaii, and her guilty pleasure is Roblox.

Once you’re at her car, you stand nervously. You extend your hand, smiling. “It was really nice meeting you.” Megan laughs at the gesture, her eyes twinkling as she grabs your hand and shakes it. “I hope I see you around campus.” You nod, pulling your hand back. You wave her goodbye and turn around, feeling your heart beating rapidly. As you walk away, you bite your lip anxiously. Fuck it. Suddenly, you turn around, walking back to Megan quickly. She watches as you walk back to her and looks at you curiously, an amused smile forming on her lips.

You take a deep breath before pulling your phone out, extending it toward her. “Your number,” your voice cracks slightly. You quickly add, embarrassed, “Please?” Megan giggles at your attempt to get her number but it apparently succeeds when she takes your phone and types her number. When she gives it back, you glance at the screen and chuckle at the name she gave herself.

‘the broke girl from the coffee shop’

You roll your eyes as you pocket your phone. “You weren’t broke. You just forgot your card.” She shrugs, giggling. “Doesn’t mean I’m not broke.” She replies and you throw your head, laughing loudly.

You end up talking to her for another 30 minutes after that.

Later that night, Megan receives a text from you. After shamelessly waiting all day to hear from you, once she saw the notification from an unknown number, she eagerly opens it. She giggles at the message, biting her lip.

You: hey :3 its ur knight in shining armor (Y/n).

After exchanging numbers, Megan begins to kinda, sort of, develop a crush on you.

You were just so sweet and matched her unique personality perfectly. Since meeting you, there hasn’t been a day where you weren’t talking. Megan would send text after text, telling you about her day and you’d do the same. Out of all the things Megan has learned about you, her favorite is your spontaneity. Your hangouts were never planned, always last minute and would often last longer than expected. She would always meet you at your car and allow you to pick the destination– usually being a coffee shop you found or the beach. She enjoys being in your company and her heart flutters thinking you may feel the same way.

When Megan tells her friends about her developing friendship with you, they immediately shut it down.

Sophia crosses her arms, her expression hardening when Megan reveals your name. She raises an eyebrow. “Y/n L/n? The Y/n?” Megan looks at her with a confused expression. She didn’t realize you were a well-known presence on their campus. “Yeah? What about them?” Megan asks and Manon clicks her tongue, shaking her head and says, “I’ve heard some pretty crazy shit about them…” Daniela quickly adds to Manon’s thought, “I’ve heard they’ve been arrested twice!” Megan’s eyes widen. She looks over at Lara who confirms their statements, nodding. The Indian girl sighs and places a hand on Megan’s shoulder. Her voice is soft as she speaks to Megan, “Also, someone told me how they hook up with literally everyone on campus.” Megan looks away from Lara, thoughts of you swirling in her head.

Megan couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Their words made it seem like you were public enemy #1 on campus. But she was just playing Roblox with you until 2 AM the other night—certainly their words weren’t true. Sophia reached toward Megan, grabbing her hands and squeezing them gently. Sophia’s voice was soft yet stern at the same time. “Be careful, okay?” Megan silently nodded, not really knowing what to do with the information presented to her.

You’re sitting together on the ground at a spot you and Megan found on one of your many late-night drives. Every other night, you end up here with her just to talk about anything and everything. She watches as you take out your cigarettes and lighter. She nudges you playfully, rolling her eyes. “I’m gonna get you to stop smoking one day.” You chuckle in response, putting one of them in between your lips. You attempt to light it but continue failing. After the third time, Megan snatches the lighter from your hand and tries to assist you. The action causes you to laugh, “You just said you’re gonna get me to stop.” Megan rolls her eyes at your playful tone, her hand on your shoulder as she shifts closer. “Do you want this stupid thing lit or not?” You raise your hands in defense, amusement in your eyes.

Megan manages to light your cigarette, watching as you inhale the smoke into your lungs. You exhale slowly, glancing at her with a grateful look. She smiles, admiring you. She shifts back, pulling her legs up to her chest and rests her chin on her knee. Megan bites her lip, becoming lost in thought. “My friends told me things about you.” You look at her and frown slightly. Although you saw this coming, it still made you nervous. You lean back, propping yourself up with your elbows. You look up at her, trying to remain unphased by her question. “What’d they say?” You ask, preparing yourself to hear the latest gossip. You bring your cigarette to your lips and inhale.

She looks away from you and shrugs. She says, “They told me how you’re pretty well known on campus for… Not so good things.” You nod, keeping your eyes on her. Megan looks at you with a raised eyebrow. “Is it true you got arrested twice?” Your eyes widen at her question, sitting up suddenly. You shake your head frantically, “No, oh my god! That’s not true!” You exclaim, rubbing the back of your neck. Suddenly, you look away and chuckle. Nervously, you add, “I got arrested once.” Megan picks her head up from her knees and looks at you with her mouth agape. “Once?!” You sigh and avoid her eyes. “I got into a fight at a party freshman year. The guy was messing with one of my friends so I… Punched him…” You whisper the last part, your cheeks becoming red.

Megan stares at you in shock, not knowing what to say. Her silence makes you nervous and you’re scared you’ve ruined everything but she just giggles, covering her mouth. “Well that’s stupid, did you win at least?” You laugh at her question, shaking your head. You look at her, slightly embarrassed. “No… He beat the shit out of me. I only got that one punch in.” She pushes you playfully, laughing even louder. You roll your eyes, taking another hit from your cigarette. “You’re not being very nice right now, you know?” You say as you exhale the smoke from your lungs. Megan reaches over and grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together. She looks at you with teasing eyes. “I’m not the one who started a fight with a guy.” You scoff playfully, eyeing her with an amused glint in your eyes.

You squeeze her hand. “Well. He deserved it.” Megan only smiles in response. She lays down on the grass, pulling you down with her. You lay together, shoulders touching with your connected hands at your sides. You look up at the sky, grateful that Megan isn’t judging you for your poor decision making. After a few seconds of silence, Megan breaks it. “Is it… Also true, you hooked up with a lot of people on campus?” You turn your head to look at her. At the same time, she does the same and you almost forget your words. She looks at you as if you were the only thing worth looking at and it makes your head spin. “I’ve only been with three girls on campus. I don’t know where that rumor came from but I’m used to it…” Megan looks at you softly. “Does it bother you?” She whispers to you. You shake your head, smiling. “Nah. I don’t really give a fuck anymore. My life is a lot quieter now and I like that.” She squeezes your hand as if to tell you that she gets it. And you know she’s serious. You stare at her, taking in the way she looks underneath the sunshine. She’s ethereal.

Megan notices you're staring and just giggles, her whiskers on display. “What?” She whispers. You shrug, still smiling. “I like being around you.” Her eyes light up at your words. She smiles shyly and glances down at your connected hands. “I like being around you too.”

Megan: dammit i left my bookbag with my dance clothes in ur car

You: want me to bring them to you?

Megan: omg no u have class

Megan: im sure the other girls have something i can borrow LOL

But you’ve already made the trip, swinging Megan’s bag over your shoulder. You walk to the dance building with a pep in your step. You had no urgency to be on time for your art class, you were already ahead on your projects anyway. Once you’re in the building, you text her asking which room she was in. As soon as it sends, you hear one of the doors open and look up to see Megan on the other end of the hallway. She smiles, running up to you. She jumps into your arms, her head nuzzled in the crook of your neck. You can feel her playing with the hairs on the back of your neck as she whispers, “I told you, you didn’t have to do that.” Her breath against your skin causes your head to spin. You wrap your arms around her, pulling her closer. You close your eyes as you relish in her presence.

You respond, “I don’t mind.” And you don’t. God, you would do anything for Megan Skiendiel.

When she pulls away, she looks at you, her soft brown eyes twinkling. You hand her her bag, mesmerized by how beautiful she is. Everything about Megan has consumed you, and you don’t want it any other way. You want to tell her. You really want to confess your feelings. But you want it to be perfect. She leans up, kissing you on the cheek. She pulls away with a shy smile and you only blink in surprise, your cheeks turning pink. Megan swings her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you after practice?” She asks and you nod eagerly. She waves you goodbye and skips back to the practice room. You stand there, raising your hand to where she kissed you.

You pump your fist in the air, whispering, “fuck yeah,” to yourself.

Megan stands with her friends at a party they decided to attend. She sips on her drink as she listens to Daniela complain about something that happened at dance practice earlier that day. Her eyes trail off, trying to find one person. Her eyes land on you and she can’t help the smile that forms on her lips.

You were standing with your friends, engaged in a lively conversation. You say something and she watches as they all push you playfully, causing you to spill your drink a little on your shirt. Your laughter fills the already loud environment, but it’s all Megan could hear. Her smile grows wider seeing you happy. She feels a slight tug on her wrist, causing her to turn her head, seeing Lara and the rest of her friends giving her unhappy looks. Megan sighs, bringing her drink back to her lips. Manon nudges her, her voice slightly exasperated, “Meg… We keep telling you, girl. Y/n is just straight up trouble.” Sophia nods in agreement. She looks at Meg with a worried look in her eyes. “The stories about them are so scary…” Megan frowns at her words.

They don’t know you like she does. She wishes they would just get to know you.

Megan takes another glance at you and feels her breath hitch when she sees you looking back at her. A soft smile appears on your face as your eyes connect. Megan waves and you do the same before getting pulled away by your friends to begin another beer pong match. She looks back at her friends, shaking her head. “Not trouble. Just a little silly, I think.” As she says this, she feels a hand on her shoulder and turns her head to see you smiling at her with a lopsided grin. She tilts her head and looks at you, giggling when she realizes how drunk you might be. She grabs your bicep, squeezing it gently. “Hey, what are you doing over here?” She asks. You simply wrap your arms around her shoulders, hugging her tightly. You sway her side to side, happy to see your Megan. You didn’t see her all day and you were afraid you weren’t going to see her at all. You hear her laughing and it makes you smile even wider– if that were even possible. You pull away and grab her shoulders, your eyes shining with excitement. “Wanna be my beer pong partner?”

The question makes Megan laugh even louder. She is terrible at pong and she is sure she has told you that a million times already. But the way you look at her with pleading eyes, how could she say no? She looks at her friends who are looking at you with disapproving looks. This only motivates Megan. She grabs your hand and looks into your eyes, smiling brightly. “Hell yeah. Let’s do it!” Suddenly, you pick her up, holding her bridal style. She squeals as you carry her toward the pong table. “Y/n! What the hell?!” She exclaims as your hold on her gets tighter. You yell, “This is my pong partner, everyone! I called dibs!” Megan covers her face with her hands, her cheeks becoming very red.

But she is enjoying every second of being in your arms.

One night, Megan receives a phone call from you at 3 AM.

She shifts in bed, annoyed with the persistent ringing underneath her pillow. She slides her phone towards her and sees your contact photo on full display. It’s a .5 photo of you wearing your glasses and one of Megan’s hoodies. Megan is usually thrilled to see your name on her phone. However, at 3 AM, she’s a bit aggravated.

It doesn’t stop her from answering though.

She turns to her side and answers. She whispers, “Y/n, what the hell?” It’s silent for a moment on the other end. Megan doesn’t hear anything and thinks the phone call is simply a buttdial. She is about to press the red button but your voice rings out. Your speech is slurred, “Mei Mei… Do you know how pretty you are?”

You’re drunk.

Megan sits up in her bed, quickly grabbing her glasses. She places them on and gets out of her bed quietly. She walks onto the balcony, not wanting to disturb her roommates. She sits down on one of the chairs and takes a deep breath. “Are you drunk?” You hum in response, causing Megan to chuckle. “Are you being safe?” Another hum can be heard. You respond, albeit incoherently, you manage words. “Yes… Had to walk outside… Needed air.” Megan nods, leaning back in the chair. She responds, “Do you need any help?” Your next words are unexpected.

“Do you know how much I like you?”

Megan freezes. Her breath catches in her throat and she isn’t sure if she heard you right. You continue, as if you didn’t just drop the biggest bombshell on Megan just now.

“It scares me how much I like you.”

Megan replies quietly, her voice betraying her as it shakes, “Why?” She hears you laugh on the other end. “Because I’m a fucking mess, are you kidding me?” Your response makes Megan frown. She shakes her head as if you were right in front of her. “You’re not a mess, Y/n…” She can hear you shuffling a bit on the other end and she imagines you pacing around. It makes her smile, everything about you makes her smile. You speak up again, groaning, “You’re like. The most beautiful person I know,” She stays silent on the other end. She bites her lip, trying to contain her smile as she hears you continue rambling.

“You just get it, you know? You get everything I say. You’re just so vibrant. And fun. And just so… Fucking beautiful,” Your words are so slurred and so messy but Megan loves it. She sits up, taking a deep breath, “Y/n–” You cut her off, continuing, “And you don’t care about all that shit about me. For the first time, someone actually wants to know me and I don’t get it. Why are you so nice to me?” The question makes Megan’s heart ache. She whispers, “Well… I like you.”

You chuckle. Megan doesn’t know it, but tears are brimming in your eyes. “Not like I do.”

Megan bites her lip. “You don’t know that.” She whispers in response.

There’s more shuffling on the other end and Megan covers her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles. “Wait. I’m really fucking drunk right now… Can I talk to you about this tomorrow?” You ask. As much as you would love to have this conversation, it certainly did not go as you thought. You imagined your confession to Megan would be a lot more romantic than this, you had a plan and everything. Megan laughs loudly and all you can see in your head is her eyes squinted, her whisker dimples. She replies, “As long as you don’t regret what you just said then sure… I can wait.”

But when Megan said she could wait, she expected you to call her back in the afternoon when you were sober.

She doesn’t expect to hear a knock on her apartment door at noon. When she opens it, Megan’s eyes widen when she sees you standing at the door with a potted orchid. The determination in your eyes causes Megan’s heart to race. You look at her and whisper, “Did you mean it?” Megan nods. Her heart racing even faster. She whispers back, “Did… you?”

A beat.

Megan suddenly tastes mint toothpaste, spearmint gum, and the honey chapstick you always put on. It catches her off guard, but when she realizes what’s happening, she melts into the kiss. Her eyes flutter close as she cups your cheeks, her lips moving in rhythm with yours. You pull away, quickly setting the orchid down on the ground. Megan laughs but it’s silenced when you kiss her again, wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her even closer. A content sigh escapes Megan as you deepen the kiss. She pulls you by the collar, dragging you into her apartment. She didn’t know what she expected, but god is she glad this is how it ended up.

“WAIT! The orchid!”

A bright light shines in your face and you squint, holding your hand up in an attempt to protect your eyes. “Is the light necessary?”

Megan’s friends stand in front of you with serious expressions, pointing a flashlight in your face. The lights are off and the Chinese girl sits in your lap, arms wrapped around your neck. She groans and buries her face in your shoulder, murmuring, “You guys are fucking crazy.” Sophia turns the flashlight, pointing it at Megan instead. “We are doing research.” She turns it back to you, shining it closer. The Filipina glares at you and it scares you shitless. When Megan told you that her friends wanted to get to know you better, you quickly agreed, wanting to hopefully change their opinion of you.

But you didn’t realize how poor that opinion was.

“So, you want to date our Megan?” You look up, trying to find the voice speaking to you. It’s Daniela and she scares you even more than Sophia. You realize you’re in for a long night. You nod pathetically, feeling a lump in your throat as they all continue looking at you as if you killed someone. You open your mouth to respond but a quiet knock is heard on their door. Sophia shines the light toward it, saying, “It’s probably Yoonchae. She asked to hang out with us after school.” You widen your eyes.

Another one? Fucking hell.

Manon walks to the door, opening it to reveal the girl. As she steps inside, you recognize her immediately. She seems to recognize you too because her eyes light up when she sees you. However, her face falls when she sees Sophia holding the flashlight. “What are you guys doing to my tutor?” Sophia quickly turns the flashback toward you, her eyes wide. “Tutor?!” She exclaims and you can’t help your eye roll. You sigh, holding Megan tighter. “Yeah… On the weekends I tutor high school students… I help Yoonchae with English.” Lara looks at Yoonchae with furrowed brows. “You never told us Y/n was your English tutor!” Yoonchae scoffs, putting her book bag down as she walks over to Sophia. She snatches the flashlight out of her hands with a glare. “You guys never asked. Now whatever this is, can it stop? I’d like to keep doing well.” Sophia sends you an apologetic look as Daniela walks over to the light switch, turning the lights back on in the living room. Yoonchae looks at Megan, who sits in your lap and puts the pieces together.

She points at Megan, eyes wide. “The girl you talked about for months is my best friend?!” Megan picks her head up from your shoulder and gives you a shit-eating grin. “You’ve been talking about me for months?!” You groan at her words, the entire situation feeling unreal as it unfolds. You push Megan off your lap, murmuring, “Maybe…” The Chinese girl squeals, wrapping her arms around you again. She is elated to know that none of it was in her head– that this entire time, you felt the exact same way. Megan’s friends look at you two, their eyes softening when they realize that you really weren’t as bad as people said you were. Lara smiles, happy that Megan found her person. “Okay… I guess you have our blessing, Y/n.” Lara’s words make you light up, looking up to see everyone finally looking at you with positive expressions. However, Manon points a finger at you, her eyes deadly, “But if you do anything to hurt Meg, we’re cutting your dick off.”

You choke on your words. “I- I- don’t have–” Daniela cuts you off, her tone sharp, “We said what we said!” You close your mouth, effectively silenced. It brings you happiness to know Megan has such amazing friends but it sure does make you piss your pants.

“Are you coming out with us tonight?” You look up from your easel to see one of your friends from class. You shake your head, turning your attention back to your task. You reply, “Nah, I’m hanging out with Megan tonight.” Your friend groans, pushing you gently. He crosses his arms with a disappointed look on his face. “Dude, that Megan girl got you on a leash. Come out with us!” His statement makes you chuckle. You shrug your shoulders, still working on your piece. “Bow wow, I guess.” You deadpan and he just sighs, walking away to ask another friend of yours if they are coming out for the night. You subtly take your phone out to send a text to your girlfriend.

You: missing you

You: wanna hang out tonight? im free

Megan: i thought you were going downtown tonight with your friends???

You: plans were cancelled :P

Megan: MY MANIFESTATIONS WORKED

Megan: ROBLOX. MY BED. AFTER CLASS. You: YOU GOT IT PRETTY <333333

an: LOOK I DID IT!!! ITS FLUFFY AND EVERYONE IS HAPPY!!! i hope everyone enjoyed this fic and pls lmk what you think <3 this is dedicated to everyone who begged me for fluff content LMAO

requests are open

#katseye x reader #katseye imagines #megan skiendiel #daniela avanzini #manon bannerman #lara raj #sophia laforteza #jeong yoonchae #katseye #megan skiendiel x reader

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nightwingsgypsyrep · 5 months ago

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Ok so I’ve been umming and ahhing about making this post for a while. I’ve always kinda planned on it, but seeing these tags on a previous post of mine (no hate to this user) made me want to post something now. It’s also gone 3am. So it’s not really going to be very clean and tidy, and will probably be a bit rambling, but I can always post a ‘tidy’ version another time.

So! Tackling Dick Grayson’s Romani/GRTSB heritage (warning: it’s a long one)

So, as usual, a few disclaimers: 1) I am not American. 2) I myself fall under the GRTSB umbrella - for clarity, I am from the fairground/circus so a Showman, but my family were simply ‘gypsies’ before getting involved in that in the Victorian period, so I use gypsy/traveller/Showman for myself. I also speak Romani and grew up in the culture and on the grounds. I’m not just talking out of my arse, I promise. 3) I do not pretend to have read every comic. However, this post will be based in things which DC have published (yeah I know it gets retconned every two minutes but hey, I’m working with it), even if some of it is more speculative/Headcanony, it will all be canon-compliant/what makes sense based on my own experiences. 4) That being said, everyone who does in some way fall under the GRTSB acronym will have different experiences and opinions, and all are equally valid and should be respected. 5) I use the term ‘gypsy’ a lot. Where I am from, it is not a slur, but is used almost a catch-all phrase for GRTSB people, by us. We also see Dick use it so I’m going to. I personally don’t mind if people use it (so long as they don’t use it as an insult) but not everyone will feel that way, so it’s always better to ask individuals. 6) this post is intended as a fun exploration of a character whom I relate to based on our shared heritage (when it’s really rare to find characters like that). I’m not trying to dictate to you how you should interpret Dick’s character. You’re welcome to different opinions and interpretations - this is just one of mine! :)

So, first, what is GRTSB? Well, it’s an acronym which covers all aspects of the gypsy/traveller umbrella. It is used in British legislation. It stands for Gypsy Romani Traveller Showman (aka fairground and circus) Boater. Under British legislation, only the first three (Gypsies, Romani, and Travellers) are considered an ethnic identity, whilst Showmen and Boaters are considered a cultural identity.

This is absolutely FULL of problems and has been hotly debated for years, with different people identifying in different ways. People who share the same/very similar ethnic heritage (i.e. siblings, or cousins) can have completely different points of view on what they identify as. As such, don’t take it as gospel - it’s more of a guideline than anything. Especially since a) these groups often intermarry, meaning that someone can be multiple at once; b) if a Showman stops travelling with the fair and settles, they don’t become a non-traveller, because it’s in your blood, not just a job; c) people can trace their heritage back past a particular group - e.g. my own family (circus and fairgrounds aka Showmen) can be traced back to at least the 1600s, before fairs were really a thing - at the time, they simply identified as gypsies. They didn’t stop being gypsies just because they changed their job/founded a circus/fairground. As such, many in my family identify primarily as a gypsy or traveller, and a Showman secondarily, whilst others do the opposite, or identify as just a Showman or just a traveller/gypsy. Like I say, this classification is not perfect, and is hotly debated, especially at the present time.

So, now, onto the subject of Dick Grayson. I included the tags above mostly because of the ‘tell me you don’t know a character without telling me you don’t know a character’, because, firstly, rude. secondly, the poster makes reference to the Golden Age. And yeah, obviously DC aren’t going to make reference to Dick being a gypsy in the Golden Age - do you really expect writers in the 40s to care enough about the nuances of a character’s ethnic heritage, especially a gypsy, at a time when it was still common even in countries like England (where legal segregation wasn’t a thing) to have signs on pubs like ‘no blacks, no Irish, no dogs, no gypsies’ - btw we still get those occasionally? However, if we look at the comics which have been published in the eighty five years since Dick’s debut, we see a lot of references to Dick having Romani/GRTSB heritage. Again, I’m not well read, but in Grayson’s run, at least, we do see Dick speaking Romani and self-identifying as a gypsy (Nightwing #91 btw). So I’m sorry but it is definitely canon that Dick has at least some Romani heritage (since Romani, by culture, is not taught to non-travellers on purpose, and is thus only passed down from parent to child. Hell, even some of my cousins who are half gypsy - Diddakois - don’t know the language!), and the fact that he speaks it and IDs as a gypsy does suggest that this is something important to him and his character. I know that being a gypsy is certainly a big thing to me (with how the world treats us, you have to be proud of it and have it be important to you to make it worth it).

So now we come onto the second part of my rant: wtf is going on with Haly’s Circus.

So, an important bit of context is, what makes a gypsy a gypsy? And the answer to that, in my opinion, is a mix between culture and blood. You can’t be a gypsy (unless in circumstances like adoption) unless you have both. What I mean by that is, if you’ve got one gypsy great great great grandparent, but weren’t bought up with the culture and morals, you have gypsy heritage but are not a gypsy. However, if you are a gypsy and you decide to settle down in a house, work in an office, and never speak Romani again, you are still a gypsy. Similarly, if you suddenly decide to take on the gypsy lifestyle (maybe work on the fairgrounds or in the circus, or go travelling like the New Age lot), you are not a gypsy, because it’s not in your blood - hence why it’s an ethnicity, not a cultural thing really. As such, it is common for there to be a us vs them mentality even with those working on the ground - you have the gypsy/traveller/Showman who tends to own/run things, and then you have hired non-GRTSB staff (traditionally called chaps, but this has fell out of fashion in recent years).

Now, I make this distinction because Haly’s Circus is really odd in that regard.

Most gypsy (or Showmen - like I say, it can be both at the same time) ran circuses and fairs tend to be family affairs. For example, it might be John Doe’s Circus on the tin, but the Smith family (which Mr Doe’s sister married into) will often work with and alongside the Does in the running and operating of the events. Largely, this is on an ownership level, with various relations then owning the surrounding supporting elements (e.g. sideshows, fairground rides and joints, food kiosks). Other family members might then help ‘mind’ the stuff, or you can hire non-GRTSB staff to help.

Now to draw on my own family history: historically, in the Victorian period, etc, it was common for the gypsy family who owned the circus to also perform in it. For example, in my grandfather’s circus, my grandmother was a lion tamer and equestrian performer in parades. They did also hire non-traveller performers, but there wasn’t such a distinct line. However, by the 30s approximately, this had changed to be a more managerial role, with it being more common to have purely hired performers in the main event. The exception here was for sideshows and fairground rides - it is still common today for these to be ran/worked by GRTSB people (e.g. my grandmother did the dookering - fortune telling - and my grandfather did the boxing; today, we still run and operate the rides and kiosks).

However, we know that Haly’s circus was not like that. We honestly don’t know if Haly was a gypsy or not. Also, usually, gypsies have such big families and are surrounded by them, but we know that the Graysons died with no living family (no William Cobb does not count here) and had no relation to anyone at Haly’s. I suppose if you want a canon answer, you could point to how Haly’s was used by the Court of Owls, but it could just be Like That. This is unusual but not unheard of, but still worth pointing out I think. Alternatively, it could originate from one of the non-GRTSB started circuses which were popular around the turn of the 20th century. Since being a gypsy is really tied to your family name and, ethnically, means you have to be born into it - you can’t just start a fair and claim to be one-, even 120 years later, these families are still met with scepticism - they could marry into a 100% gypsy family in 1901, and have all of their descendants do the same, and still the older generation would look at their surname and scoff and say they’re not a real traveller because that one great grandfather 100 years ago was not a born-and-bred traveller. But honestly, I think 100 years is enough to integrate. So, to summarise, Haly’s circus is quite unusual in that it does not appear to be operated by only gypsies/Showmen, even if it still common for circuses not to be performed in by just gypsies.

Now, to answer, how Romani is Dick Grayson?

Like I say, canon does explicitly tell us that he has Romani heritage, placing him firmly within that second category of the GRTSB acronym (and he also identifies with the more general Gypsy identity). However, it’s frankly unlikely that the writers really went in depth with the whole GRTSB thing, so I think we can tentatively suggest that he might have also identified (keyword here being ‘might’ - this is more canon-compliant HC here y’all) as a Showman (called a Carney in the US) because the whole deal with being a Showman is the circus/fairground aspect (but, like I say, it is still a ‘gypsy’ identity as you must be born a Showman, you can’t just sign up, because it is based on a mutual gypsy heritage which predates fairgrounds/circuses, which means it still fits into what we know of Dick in canon. As such, Dick being a Showman is hardly canon, but it is 100% compliant with what we know of Dick in canon). As I’ve said, they are not mutually exclusive. He could ID as both or either, or just prefer the all-encompassing ‘gypsy’.

Now, we also know that Dick is not 100% gypsy (but tbh who is nowadays? I have two non-gypsy great-great grandfathers). Although Dick’s family history is limited, we know that his great grandfather William Cobb was likely not a gypsy (he could be ethnically, it’s not ruled out, he might have just settled, but let’s go for safety’s sake here and just say he’s not). Similarly, his partner was from a wealthy non-gypsy family, meaning that ethnically, their baby (John Grayson’s father) was likely not a gypsy (though could potentially have been a Diddakoi aka a half-gypsy, if we believe William Cobb to be a settled gypsy). However, since this baby still grew up amongst the circus, it is not impossible that he ended up marrying a gypsy, which would make John Grayson half gypsy - aka a Diddakoi. In fact, I would argue that it is even likely, owing to the fact that Dick speaks Romani, and the fact that Romani is only taught to other members of the family, meaning that somewhere in the Grayson family, a Romani speaker had to be introduced. Mary Grayson (formerly Lloyd), on the other hand, probably was Romani/GRTSB herself. I say this, based mostly on her closeness with the OG Richard aka Raptor from Seeley’s run, who was Romani, and the fact that it is really common in gypsy circles to mostly mix with other gypsies, meaning that it would make sense for the pair to meet based on the fact that they were both gypsies/Romani. Therefore, I would argue that even if Dick is not wholly Romani/gypsy ethnically (but, like I say, who is nowadays?), I think there is enough both blood and culturally to make a pretty good case for him IDing as such, and foregoing the need to make any distinction. (Also, especially nowadays when Diddakois are increasingly more common, it’s not even that prejudiced to be a Diddakoi. A lot of my cousins are and you don’t even think to mention it). Aka. He’s a gypsy. Nuff said.

Then, I suppose, the final thing I’ll address is the ‘whitewashing’ issue, or, what I really think is a non-issue.

Sure, a lot of ethnically Romani people are dark skinned. There is a reason why the term gypsy exists. Now, as my grandad will tell you, gypsies originated from Northern India about 2000 years ago, before moving into Europe. However, a lot can happen in 2000 years. There are a lot of people in the UK, at least, who identify as purely Romani who have very pale skin. My family has a real split: my dad’s side of the family is quite dark, and are often mistaken for being South Asian in the summer due to how dark they get when they tan. Meanwhile, he refers to my mother’s side of the family as being ‘poxy and pasty’. My mother is a full-blooded traveller btw, same as my dad (barring their singular non-gypsy great grandad they each had). You just can’t paint everybody with the same brush. Take me for example: I am pale af and take after my mum’s side of the family, but I’ve still got the stereotypical dark curly hair and blue eyes of gypsies (which my boy also shares). Genetics are weird. So whilst I am a big fan of dark skinned Romani Dick Grayson, it’s also still ok and accurate for him to be paler. This does not make him any less Romani. (Like I say, this is all based on my experiences in the UK).

SOOO… TLDR:

Dick definitely has Romani heritage. This has been canon for decades and cannot be taken away from him.

He canonically self-IDs as a ‘gypsy’ (as well as the Romani heritage), and may also be interpreted as being a Showman (even if this is more of a European term) if you want to see him that way, especially since a lot of Showman families (mine included) can trace their families back past the origin of the fairground to when they simply identified as gypsies or Romani (hence why Dick might ID as a gypsy with Romani heritage. Honestly, this is mostly in the realm of canon-compliant Headcanon now)

The GRTSB classification system is a mess y’all and everyone has a different opinion. Just roll with it and don’t get into the debates is my professional opinion.

Being Romani/a gypsy/a traveller/a Showman is something you are born into. You can’t just become one, or stop being one. So, if we presume that William Cobb had no Romani heritage/was not a settled-down Gypsy, even after he joined Haly’s he did not become one. It really is in your blood, and is tied to family.

Haly’s circus is unusual because it’s mostly not a family affair (though points for the Graysons sticking with it and inheriting their roles - that is realistic!). It’s unclear how many of the members of the circus are Romani.

Dick also has non-traveller heritage due to the William Cobb thing. His grandfather, at least, was probably not ethnically Romani (though he might have been half if we want to view William Cobb as having Romani heritage/being a settled gypsy). However, since Dick canonically has Romani heritage, IDs as a gypsy, and speaks Romani (a language which is closely guarded amongst gypsies), it had to come in somewhere. Honestly, I think we can comfortably view him as being at least 3/4 ethnically Romani/a Gypsy, but also since modern Dick Grayson was not born during prohibition, this really isn’t a problem as it’s really common for Diddakois (half gypsies) to be treated as full gypsies nowadays.

As much as I love darker skinned Dick Grayson, it’s not a requirement. A lot of the GRTSB community (especially in Western Europe/Britain/Ireland) are on the pale side. This does not take away from their identity.

So that’s my rant. It’s like 3.30am so it’s probably a complete mess but hopefully it gets down the basics, at least insofar as it relates to my experiences and understanding as a gypsy from the fairground/a circus family. People will probably have different experiences (especially since I’m in the UK). Although I have based all of this on canon, and as such it should all be canon-compliant to my knowledge (I’ve still not read all the comics!), it is also equally based on my experiences, so you may interpret it completely differently. The beauty of Dick’s character is that he has been built up over 85 years, and as such, we have to do our best to interpret what was laid down in the Golden Age by writers with no idea of what Dick’s character would grow to be. As such, canon really is a bit of a sandbox, and this is my own go at it!

If anyone has any questions/wants clarification/notices any obvious contradictions with canon since I’ve not read them all yet, please feel free to point it out! This is not intended to be a lecture/call out post/dictatorship on how you view canon, just a small exploration of my interpretation of a character whom I relate to as a Romani speaking gypsy from the fairground/circus myself.

#I’m low-key terrified to post this pls don’t hang draw and quarter me #batman #batfam #dc comics #dick grayson #nightwing #romani dick grayson

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steddieas-shegoes · 5 months ago

Text

i don’t know why i can’t take my eyes off of you

for @steddielovemonth day one using You and Me by Lifehouse

rated t | 1186 words | no cw | tags: future fic, second chances, mutual pining, idiots in love, songwriter Eddie, teacher Steve

🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒

Steve’s walking down the frozen section of Melvald’s when time stops.

Not literally. The watch on his wrist is still ticking. The clock on the wall at the front of the store is still moving. People around him are still grabbing their groceries.

But Eddie Munson is standing in front of the ice cream section like he belongs there.

Eddie left Hawkins five years ago.

He kissed Steve on the lips, then the forehead, and left.

Steve’s thought about it, about him, every day since.

Eddie hasn’t noticed him yet. Maybe Steve should leave before he does. Last he’d heard, Eddie was working at a recording studio as a songwriter, halfway making his dreams come true.

He’s happy, or at least that’s what all the kids have said when he’s brought up. They don’t know about the kiss, at least Steve doesn’t think they do. He’s never told them.

It’s busy enough in the store that Steve’s pretty sure he can sneak away before Eddie sees him. He starts to back away, but immediately bumps into an old woman.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” He’s asking, and she’s brushing him off and saying she’s fine. He feels terrible.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice is like music, always has been a melody made specifically for Steve.

“Eddie,” Steve says as the old woman walks away. “Hey.”

Steve forgets he’s in public as the world around him fades and all he sees, smells, wants, is Eddie.

“I didn’t know you were still in Hawkins,” Eddie says quietly, leaning forward on his toes. He’s got a new battle vest, though it looks well-worn. Steve wonders if he knows that his old vest is hanging in his closet, if he knows that Steve pulls it out every once in a while so he can put it on and feel a little less alone.

“Yeah. Never left.” It sounds worse than it is. Steve always said he’d leave when all the kids left, but once they did, he didn’t know where to go. It’s not like he could follow them around, couch-surfing across the country a month or two at a time, burdening them with his self-imposed loneliness.

“You look good,” Eddie says, changing the subject.

Leaving Hawkins was a touchy subject for Steve the last time he’d seen Eddie. It still is. Eddie must sense that.

“So do you,” Steve breathes out. He does. He looks healthy and happy, something Hawkins had completely drained from him before. “What are you doing back?”

“Just visiting Wayne. Usually he comes to see me, but he insisted he didn’t wanna deal with the ‘big city’ this time. And I’m the best nephew, so I said ‘sure, old man, I’ll go back to the town that hates my guts!’ And here I am trying to find my favorite ice cream at the store. They don’t have it,” Eddie shrugs. He rambles when he’s nervous, still. “He hasn’t mentioned seeing you around or anything, though.”

“Yeah, I guess we don’t cross paths much,” Steve laughs awkwardly. He can’t remember the last time he saw Wayne. Must’ve been around Christmas, when Steve was helping Joyce with her decorations while Hopper worked overtime and Wayne stopped by to drop off some lights. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s good. Stubborn as hell. Won’t retire even though he could,” Eddie shakes his head. “Think he’s scared of being bored.”

“Or lonely.”

The words escape Steve before he can hold them back.

Eddie’s face softens, but it’s not full of pity. Everyone always gives Steve this look, like they know he’s putting on a brave face. Not Eddie.

“Wayne’s always been content alone. He’s got friends, and he calls me when he has something new to argue about,” Eddie leans in closer. “I don’t really worry about Wayne. Other people, sure.”

“Like who?” Steve swallows.

“You settle down yet?” Eddie asks in response.

Steve’s so shocked by the question, he doesn’t answer.

“I figured the kids were just being nice by not telling me if you did, but you’re not wearing a ring and you’re grocery shopping alone, so…” Eddie rambles again. Steve feels his heart flutter in his chest.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Are you dating someone?”

Steve shakes his head. “Haven’t really found anyone interesting.”

“Interesting? Since when does Steve Harrington want someone interesting?”

Since the most interesting person he knows kissed him and then left. Since everyone else is boring in comparison to you. Since he realized he was dumb to let you go.

“I guess what I thought I wanted is different now. Has been for a while,” Steve shrugs.

It’s strange how easily Steve becomes wrapped up in Eddie’s orbit, how quickly everything else didn’t matter the moment Eddie started talking to him. It’s just the two of them.

“Excuse me,” a man says to their left. Steve jumps back and apologizes for blocking where he needed to be. Eddie’s eyes never leave Steve.

When the man walks away, Steve clears his throat.

“How long are you in town?”

“How long will it take me to convince you to come back with me?”

Steve chokes on his next breath. “What? Come back with you? To…”

“New York or Chicago. I’m getting a promotion and they’ll let me pick where I wanna go. I’ve been leaning towards Chicago because more of the music I enjoy is making a mark there,” Eddie explains. “And there’s plenty of options for you there, too. Dustin said you just finished your teaching degree.”

“Dustin talks about me?”

“Only when unprovoked,” Eddie grins. “Have you been waiting for me?”

It’s blunt, but Eddie always has been. Steve can hide a lot of emotions from people; It’s been a survival tactic for most of his life.

He’s never been able to hide shit from Eddie.

“Not on purpose.”

Eddie looks at his basket of items. He was really only here for a few things, but he saw his favorite cookies were on sale and he couldn’t resist stocking up. He looks between the basket and Eddie’s eyes.

“You wanna come to mine for dinner?”

“Is dinner cookies?” Eddie laughs, poking at the package closest to the top.

“That’s dessert,” Steve laughs, too. He finds it easy. He never thought it could be this easy after the time that’s passed, the distance they had between them.

“First dessert.”

“What are we, hobbits?” Steve asks.

Eddie’s jaw drops open. “Steve, please. Not in public.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know you read it!” Eddie groans, but he’s smiling, so Steve’s not actually worried.

“I’ve read a lot of things! I’ve been waiting for you, remember?”

An announcement starts in the store— someone’s car is blocking a delivery truck entrance— and they both take a step away from each other. They were much closer than they should be in the grocery store.

This is still Hawkins, and people already don’t like Eddie. Looking cozier than two dudes normally would might be dangerous for both of them.

“So. Dinner?” Steve asks again. It’s easier to remember there are other people around with some distance between them.

“Sure. Dinner.”

Time starts again.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie events #steddielovemonth #steddie love month #steve harrington x eddie munson

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justwhisperingfantasies · 3 months ago

Text

@fandom-free-bingo Square: "I Would Never Do You Wrong." @alphabetquest Prompt: "Explain it to me again.

Pairing: Beau Arlen -x- Reader!Deputy (Nickname Rouse)

Warnings: Angst, Gun Violence, Hurt Reader, Heart Break, Hurt/Comfort, Drinking, Cheating,

Summary: Beau is tired of seeing your heart break. This time will be the last.

Word Count: 1,780

Special Thank To @copperboom82 My Forever Beta Bestie 🫶

My Master List

My Tag List

Beau looked over as you turned your phone screen off with a sigh. “Let me guess,” he spoke up.

“I don’t want to talk about.”

“He can’t make dinner,” he continued, ignoring your protest. “Not surprised, although it is your what? Two year anniversary?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about, Beaufort.”

The engine of his Land Rover filled the silence as the tension floated between you. You looked at the clock of the radio.

“So, explain it to me again…”

“Wow, managed to keep quiet for a whole two minutes,” you quipped, giving him a smile. “What is it, Sheriff?”

“He cancels plans, flirts with other women, always going out with the guys, some nights he doesn’t even come home,” Beau rambled on, though it wasn’t anything you hadn'theard before.

“So you were eavesdropping?”

“No, not eavesdropping,” he grinned

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, my mistake.” He opened his mouth but shut it when you continued. “I guess me talking to my best friend alone in my office was an open conversation.”

“My point is… why do you stay with him?”

You sighed as you eyes shifted to the greenery out the car window. “It’s not all bad.”

“I just don’t get it, Rouse,” Beau whispered, stopping at the stop sign, with only one more block to go, Maybe if you ignored the question, he would just let it go - probably not though. “You deserve someone better,” he said, proving you right. “A good guy, someone that would treat you right and put you first.”

“Well, if you happen to meet prince charming, go ahead and give him my number,” you quipped, earning a chuckle from him.

“What if he -”

“Why is Emily here?” you asked cutting him off, hoping to change the subject.

“Hm, not sure,“ he said as his brows furrowed, finding his daughter sitting on the bench outside of the Sheriff’s station. “Let’s go find out.”

“Hey Em, you ok?” Beau asked as the two of you walked up the sidewalk.

“Hey dad,” she greeted him, wrapping her arms around his middle. “I’m fine. Though I’m actually here to talk to y/n.”

Beau’s eyebrows raised. “Really? Something you can’t talk to me about?”

”It’s more of a feminine question.”

“Ok, I am out,” Beau announced as his cheeks got red. “I’ll be inside if you need me.”

You both watched as he disappeared through the door. “Alright, what's up?” you asked turning back to Emily.

Your office door creaked as Beau knocked and he poked his head in, dramatically scanning the room.

“What are you doing?” you asked him as his head kept swiveling.

“Just making sure I'm not walking in on a private conversation,” he smirked.

“Oh my gosh, you're freaking hilarious.” He chuckled at your sarcastic tone.

“So...”

“So...” you echoed as you continued writing your notes from the traffic stop this morning.

“You gonna tell me what my daughter wanted to talk to you about?”

“Haven't you learned your lesson about private conversations?” you quipped, making him sigh. “She just wanted the number for a nice drug dealer.” He bit back a smile. “Don't worry I steered her away from the cartel and gave her Stabby Joe’s number.”

Beau’s head lifted as his laughter rippled through the air. “Yeah, Stabby Joe was definitely the way to go.”

“I know,” you chuckled.

“Seriously though, she’s ok right?”

“Yes Beau, I would tell you if it was major.” His eyebrows raised still trying to pry the subject from you. “Our little Emily likes a boy.”

“God, please tell me you didn’t give her boy advice.”

“And just what the hell do you mean by that?” you asked leaning back in your chair as your arms folded across your chest.

“Well y/n, you don't have the best track record in that category.”

“And you're one to talk, Beaufort.”

His brow quirked. “Somethin’ you wanna say?”

“Actually-”

“Arlen, y/ln!” Jenny shouted as she rushed into your office. “We got ‘em”

You jumped to your feet, Beau already on his. “Let’s go,” he ordered.

“Here,” Beau said handing you a bullet proof vest from his backseat.

“Beau, this is gonna be way too big on me,” you argued, looking at the size. “Wait, you keep a vest for me in your truck?”

“Of course I do,” he chuckled, his eyes staying forward and a smile spreading across his face. “Have you met you?”

“I got shot one time…”

“Well, that will be the only time, if I can help it.” He looked over, his face hard. “That’s an order deputy.”

You pulled the vest over your heard with an eyeroll. “Yes sir.”

“Thank you,” he said pulling into the apartment complex.

“Number 14, second floor,” Jenny's voice came though the walkie.

“Copy that,” Beau responded, strapping his vest “You ready?” You gave him a nod after strapping your won vest on. “Alright.”

Beau walked ahead of you - of course he would go first, he always went first - his pistol securely pointed at the ground. He reached his hand behind him brushing your thigh as you approached the door.

“1… 2… 3…” Beau whispered right before kicking in the door. You were right behind him, gun drawn scanning the room. “Clear, going right.”

“6,” you shouted, letting him know you were behind him.

“Going left,” Pop cried out, and Jenny responded to him same as you.

Beau reached the hallway, looking back to you before he rounded the corner. “Clear.” You followed behind him, stopping at the first door. “I'll take this one, you take that one.” He said, gesturing the second door.

You nodded and continued on your way. You opened the door and your vision went white; you gasped for air as something hit your chest. Then again as you fell to your back.

“y/n!” Beau’s voice a whisper over the ringing in your ears.

‘Breathe, just breathe’ Your lungs relaxed once they started getting oxygen again.

“Jenny! Pop!” you heard Beau’s frantic voice. “Rouse, tell me you’re ok.”

You opened your mouth, trying to yell back at him, but nothing came out.

“Beau, we’ll cover you, get her the hell out of here.”

Gunshots fired over the now dull chimes. You felt something pull on the shoulder straps of your vest “Y/n, open your eyes,” Beau pleaded, the gunshots getting softer as you felt the carpet stinging your limp arms. “Open your eyes damnit!”

“Can you… stop yelling at me,” you managed to croak out.

Beau sighed in relief, “You scared the shit outta me, Rouse.” He sat up, your back against something hard - you guessed the outside wall of the complex. “Were you hit?” he asked as his fingers fumbled with the straps of your vest.

“Chest... hurts.”

“Well, that’s to be expected.”

Opening your eyes you looked up at him, not being able to stop the smile from spreading across your face. “Beau.”

“Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No.”

“Don’t argue with me right now.”

His fingers stopped when your hand cupped his cheek. “Beau, I’m not hit. The vest got it.”

“You’re sure?” His eyes searched yours for some sigh of doubt, maybe? “I think you should still go.”

“I am fine. A little sore. Go help Jenny.”

“Not needed,” Jenny contested, pushing the perp through the front door in handcuffs. “We got him, you take her.”

“You’re going,” Beau demanded as a groan pushed past your lips.

"I told you I was fine," you smarted, climbing into the Land Rover's passenger seat. Beau nodded, staying silent as he starred out the windshield. "What's wrong?"

He cleared his throat "Nothing. Am I dropping you off at home?"

“Yeah… Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

“Yep.”

The rest of the drive was quiet. You knew he was lying, but you decided not to push. You had been through enough for the day and he had just saved you, he deserved to be cut some slack.

“Who’s car is that?” Beau asked, snapping you out of your thoughts as he pulled into your driveway.

“Um, not sure…”

He nodded. “Call me if you need me.”

“Ok?”

“I just got a feeling.” He grabbed your hand as you started to turn toward the door. “ I love you, Rouse.”

“I love you too, Beaufort.”

Beau tossed the remote on the couch with a huff; he couldn’t focus, couldn’t think. Well that wasn’t true - there was one thing that managed to keep his attention. He sat up reaching for his phone on the coffee table. Before he could stop them his fingers opened their text conversation and started typing.

Hey hope everything is ok, by the way who

“No,” he said out loud holding the delete button down, he thought for a second and started typing again.

Rouse, I’m sorry I was such a dick, I was just scared to

He let a growl as he held down the delete button once more.

How are you feeling?

He nodded hitting send. The three little bubbles flashed on the screen within seconds.

Are you home?

Yes.

The bubbles disappeared, his eyes moved to the clock in the top right corner of the screen. After 5 minutes past he started typing again.

Are you ok?

No bubbles, no reply. He waited 10 minutes this time.

Could you answer me

Just as he hit send there was a knock on his door.

“I brought tequila.” she said, holding up the bottle. His heart sank, her eyes red and puffy, her makeup smeared. Still as beautiful as ever though.

Beau gestured her inside, opening the door all the way open. “What did the son of a bitch do now?” he asked shutting the door.

“We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Y/n,” Beau whispered

“You were right, ok?” she said voice cracking as tears welled in her eyes. “Is that what you wanna hear?”

“Hey,” Beau said as he stepped over to her, wrapping his arms around her. “You know better than that, sweetheart. Tell me what happened.” He could feel the dampness through his shirt as she sobbed into his chest.

“That other car was Amy - some slut he’s been hooking up with.” She mumbled. “I just don’t get it. All men do is break your heart and do you wrong. I am so sick of it.”

“Hey, hold up there. There’s still some good guys out there...”

“Oh yeah? Like who?” she asked looking up at him.

Beau took a deep breath, “Woman, you’re so damn stubborn.”

“Right back at cha bucko,” she smarted, making him chuckle. “Seriously though, Beau Who?”

“You know,” and his fingers traced up her neck, stopping at her chin, “I would never do you wrong.”

Tag List:

@mochminnie @jackles010378 @mqdhvtter @nightxcreature

@perpetualabsurdity @wonderland2022 @quietgirll75 @nancymcl @hobby27

@hunter-or-the-hunted @litpicks

@deansimpalababy @mandee7 @roseblue373 @kr804573

@jtink27 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @lmg14

@aand13b @spnaquakindgdom

#alphabetquestsubmission #beau arlen #fandom free bingo: dream edition #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen fic #big sky drabble #big sky #x you #x reader #whisper writes

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sailorholly · 1 year ago

Text

Between Us Pt 5

Summary: You and Spencer had a casual relationship. A misunderstanding ruins it all.

Pairing: Spencer Reid × F. BAU Reader

Warnings: Friends with benefits. Angst. Pregnancy.

See my Masterlist Here

Part 4

“Pregnant? How did this happen? I mean, I know how it happened but - Wow!” He runs over to you, placing one large had on your nonexistent bump. “I can’t believe we are pregnant. How far along are we?” Anger and disbelief surge through you.

“First of all, I am pregnant. Me, not you.” Spencer’s smile drops, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” You sigh, this was a better reaction than you were expecting. You thought he would freak out. Although, you aren’t sure why. Spencer loves kids. He was never mean to you before. He wasn’t like the guys you normally dated.

“No, I’m sorry. These hormones are ridiculous. I know what you meant. And to answer your other question, the doctor said about six weeks. But, that was over a week ago. I’m probably almost eight weeks now. I have an ultrasound scheduled for the end of the week if you would like to come with me.” He looks hopeful, nodding his head as his smile widens. “Of course I would love to go. This is great. I gotta call my mom. I’ll clean out my spare bedroom so we can turn it into a nursery. I’ll need help moving some of my things into storage so we will have room for your stuff too. Maybe Morgan will help.”

“Wait, my stuff?” You ask, interrupting his rambling. “Yeah, you’ll be bringing your stuff too. You can put what we don’t have room for in storage with my things.” You cross your arms, preparing to argue. “Why would I bring my stuff to your place?” Spencer scrunches up his nose, “Because you’ll be living there?” He looks just as confused as you are.

“I’m not moving in with you, Spencer. Your spare bedroom is too small for me and the baby. There’s not enough room. Plus, you don’t need me there with our baby. That would be so hard to explain when you bring women home.” You mentioned other women because you were fairly certain his relationship with Ashley wouldn’t last. You place your hands on your hips, trying to understand his silly logic.

“I thought you could sleep with me, and the baby would have their own room. Why would I bring women home when I’m dating you?” Your eyes feel like they are going to pop out of your head. “Spencer, we aren’t dating.”

“But, I thought we would be a family now that you’re pregnant.” He explains. “We will be a family, but one that coparents. You’re going to be a great dad, Spence. I would never keep your baby from you. But, this doesn’t change anything between us. You didn’t want me before, and I don’t like that you only want me now because you got me pregnant.”

“But that’s not why I-“ “I don’t want to argue about this. We are really good friends and I would like it to stay that way for the baby.” “Okay.” He agrees, but you can tell you hurt his feelings, so you change the subject to what you will need for the baby.

You make a list, putting double the items down since Spencer will keep them at his apartment too. He’s going to ask for a leave for the first two months after the baby is born so he doesn’t miss anything. He will be staying at your apartment during those months. When he’s comfortable enough to have the baby alone, you will work out a new schedule.

Spencer orders some parenting books for the both of you online. He is so excited. You’re thankful that he’s the father, he’s a great guy. You just wish it could have worked between the two of you. “How are you going to tell Ashley? I don’t think it will go well.” You tell him, scrunching your face up. His face falls, “I forgot about Ashley.”

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @spenciesprincess @kimm4710 @tmilover1993 @nomajdetective @cynbx @comboboo @134340ona @wannabewolf @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lover-of-books-and-tea @maybe-not-this @drewsandsebastianswife @lamentis-10 @lizzyk137 @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @rosylnsworld @amortencjja @ah-blossom @dreamsarebig @khxna @diasnohibng @nommingonfood @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @isakslilsmile @lavvylove @creaming4daddy @justdianaz @aubs444 @im-this-girl @xblueriddlex @spencerreidsgf420 @witchsbitchestime @lovelyygirl8 @chonkybonky @prentissesredtanktop

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds

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acowardinmordor · 2 years ago

Text

You Left Me, You Miss Me

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

@mc-i-r is writing another version of this and tagged me and my brain woke up, so here ya go. This is almost all dialogue, and my new love for Mrs Buckley.

----

"Hey Steve-o! Get in here!" Robin yelled.

"Thought you were talking to your mom?" Steve shouted back.

"I am! That's why you have to come here! The cord won't reach!"

Steve hauled himself up from the corner of the kitchen where he was reorganizing things for the third time since they moved in last week. There was a pile of boxes they really needed to open in the hallway, and his mattress was still against the wall, but he kept going back to the kitchen, trying to make it work despite there being only one pull out drawer. One. They noticed before they signed the lease, but they both assumed they could make it work somehow if they just tried hard enough. But. Third time's the charm.

Flopping onto the thrifted couch next to his best friend, he leaned against her head, and greeted, "Hi Mrs Buckley, how are you?"

"Now why can't you answer the phone so politely, Robin? Who raised you to be so impolite?"

"Yeah, mom, I know you love Steve more than you love me, you tell me every time you talk to him, now can you say it again please?"

"Yes, well, like I was saying, I don't really know why they were all so upset about it, but I didn't want to overstep, so I didn't tell them anything. Not really. Only that you had moved and that you were fine. It's not like that's a secret. Then I noticed that they didn't know about that and so I didn't answer the rest of the questions, which really only made them more upset, but I think they were upset with me, not with the pair of you, so that's perfectly fine, none of them were nearly as vicious as Robin was when she was fifteen and decided she--"

"Mom!"

Steve giggled. Robin's rambling came from her mother, that was certain, and it was worse when they were on the phone. They fed on each other's talking. Like that snake thing.

"Right, yes. Well, Steve, like I told her, those boys, the ones you used to babysit for, they came around to ask if I knew where you were," Mrs Buckley finally said.

Robin grabbed his hand with the one not holding the phone, and pressed her forehead harder against his as they crowded the handset. Steve didn't think he'd reacted, but they didn't need anything as boring as a visible reaction to know each other.

"They said that they went into the video store and saw someone new at the desk, and when they heard that the two of you were no longer working there -- Apparently that manager of yours had some unpleasant words on the subject. You know I never liked him? The first time I stepped in there he asked me if I was still married? Not like that, of course, but it was still very strange. I didn't like it. And according to Robin he was always like that, wasn't he, Steven?"

"Yeah, he was pretty weird," Steve answered numbly.

"Well, that Keith fellow told them you were no longer employed there and that curly haired one demanded to know where you were employed. Since its not like he knew even if he would have told them, those boys went looking for themselves. I guess they went to your house first, Steven, and must have seen the for sale sign. I don't know what your parents are thinking, selling with the market like it is right now, but no one has ever made either of your parents listen to a single word of sense in their lives."

"Mom, the point?"

"Yes, sorry dear, like I told Robin, eventually it must have occurred to them that the two of you would be in the same place and thought to come by. Well. I say come by. First they called, and your father, you know how he is, simply said you were no longer in residence and hung up on them. He thinks he's so funny. Oh! Make sure you remember to call next Tuesday to congratulate him. It's his first day as the lead manager in the office. Oh no, wait, does it count as long distance for you? Never mind, I'll place the call so you don't have to worry about it."

"Mrs Buckley? You were saying something about Dustin?" He was proud that his voice was steady. They left Hawkins eleven days ago. They started packing two weeks before that. His parents put the house on the market around the same time. It wasn't until today that they noticed.

"Yes, that's the one. So Dustin didn't take your father's humor well, and he and his friends came by earlier this evening."

"Wait, evening?" Steve interrupted, "It was dark? They were biking around in the dark? In this weather?"

"Oh goodness no, that young man drove them. The one that was in the papers that the pair of you helped last year. He was much more polite than they were. Well, once I told them that you'd moved, they all started shouting over each other, I was sure that Ms Wickley was going to come over and scold them."

"I'm sorry, ma'am--"

"Oh you don't need to ma'am me Steven, I've told you that."

"Mom, he was just trying to be polite when he asked you to please get to the point, so can you, you know, try to get to the point some time tonight. You're paying for the call, but jeez."

"Oh yes. Well it occurred to me while they were all shouting that if they were your friends like they were saying, they would have known that you were moving. So when they managed to calm down enough I could hear a thing I said, I refused to tell them anything else. It's none of their business if you don't want it to be. And that Dustin boy said that you were his best friend, right in the same sentence he said he hadn't seen you in a month. But, I wasn't entirely sure if I was wrong about it, so I did promise I would ask you if you wanted me to pass on your information."

"Good job, mom, you finally got back to it. This is why I had you come over here, so you could hear that last part. I should have just asked you. Do you want my mom to give them our number or address or anything?" Robin had rolled her eyes over her mom's rambling, completely unaware she was just as terrible. But then she stared at him, concerned and outraged and protective and sad. God, he didn't know what he'd do without her.

"Did they ask?" Steve said.

"Ask? I don't think a single one of them knows how to ask anything. They certainly shouted a lot of demands. If you don't want me to tell them, I have no complaints about being the villain in this story. After everything you've done for my girl, being there for her before she even told me, and now making sure she's safe from any kind of trouble up there, you're such a perfect - what was the - beard? I think that's what I saw in that article in that magazine. Oh, no, the Zine, I ordered. But even without all that, I'll happily shut the door in their faces every day for a year if that's what you want done."

Steve's next breath stuttered, and that was all Robin needed to see.

"Hang on mom, I'm going to put the phone down, don't hang up, we'll be back." She sat the handset on the couch, then dragged a throw blanket over it to muffle their voices completely.

"You okay there or do I need to make a snap decision about which is going to be our household's vomit bowl?" He pushed her shoulder half-heartedly. "Okay, yeah, we both know it's gonna be the one with the cow on it. But you okay there, Stevie?"

"I'm fine."

"No you aren't."

"I'm fine."

She gasped, "You would lie to your soulmate? To her face?"

"I'm not! I'm fine! I just... I don't know, Robs."

Robin watched for a second as all of the muck of emotions bubbled inside him. Then she, as she always did, understood him.

"You want to say no. You want to tell her not to let them know where we are, but you're also freaking out because the brats come find you whenever It's back."

And because for a second, he desperately hoped that they missed him, or wanted to call so they could apologize for the last months. She didn't need to say that part. He half shrugged, sort of nodded, and bobbed his chin towards the throw blanket.

"You sure, Dingus?"

"Yeah."

"Is it gonna be Hopper or Joyce?" she faux wondered as she grabbed the phone from its prison. "Mom? Hi, back. Yeah, thank you. I'm gonna hand the phone to Steve now."

She didn't move away, but she didn't share the earpiece.

"Hi Mrs Buckley. I guess I -- could I ask a couple questions first?"

"Of course dear. What would you like to know?"

"Did any of them say anything weird or really specific?"

"Like what?"

"Like, about the mall, or last spring, or, bats, or uh, did they say anything about their dungeons and dragons game?"

"No. Why would they?"

Steve forced his shoulders to relax. El said it was done, but four years of it coming back meant he'd never fully trust that as true.

"No reason I guess."

"Well. That Munson boy did ask me about a radio right at the end. After the others stomped back to the driveway. He came back and he seemed - well he asked about a radio. And I said you certainly had a radio in your car, but I think he may have been talking about something else. Is that what you meant?"

"Okay, uh. Yeah. Thank you. I guess."

"So what would you like me to tell them next time I see one of them? If you'd like to take your time about it, you can. They were quite worked up about it, but it's a little ridiculous to act like they were owed something if they didn't even notice you two moving. You knocked over a stop sign with that rental truck."

Steve laughed. Couldn't help it. "I really can't wait, ma'am. They'll be back tomorrow morning to bother you." He gave Robin a look she immediately returned. Even without hearing the other half, she understood how true that was.

"Of course they won't, they have school," Mrs Buckley argued.

"Yeah, just means they'll be at your door even earlier."

"Well that's rude."

"Yeah, that's them. So, um. You can be rude back if you want. Don't, uh, you don't need to answer their questions. If you don't mind that they're not going to take it well."

Mrs Buckley laughed, loud and cackling for a moment, making the phone go staticky. "Oh dear, it would be my absolute pleasure to be rude right back to them. I'm much better at it. Anything else?"

"Yeah, you know Jim Hopper?" The resounding silence promised she was giving him the same judgemental look Robin was. "Sorry, that was dumb. But can you give him our number? Not to share with them, just so he has it. And, funny story about radios, but, the one that -- that that guy asked about is in your hall closet. Top shelf, next to the popcorn tin. Give Hopper that too?"

"Certainly, anything I should tell him, or should I ask to return the phone to my ridiculous child that you're generous enough to live with so I can say good night?"

For some reason, it made him think about the returns box at the store. A handle pulled open, the movie dropped inside, and nothing else needed. No one had to explain why they were giving back their copy of Breakfast Club. They had it for a while, hopefully they enjoyed it, and then when it was done, when they didn't need it anymore, or when it was overdue, when they kept it longer than they should have, costing them more money to keep around than it was worth, when they decided they were done with it, they didn't write a letter and explain why they--

"No. But, just. Tell him its for emergencies or something. Thank you, bye, or, goodnight ma'am, Mrs Buckley, uh, here's Robs. Bye."

He climbed off the couch as he shoved the phone at her, and headed for the window in his yet to be unpacked room. Rob would kill him in his sleep if he had a cigarette, but if he had any, he'd have taken the risk.

The glass was so cold it was painful against his forehead when he leaned into it, and he watched the little flurries of snow on the street kicked up by the wind. They didn't even notice for a few weeks. They'd quit Family Video a week before they left, and he knew the kids watched at least a few every weekend. They must have gone in, multiple times, and just, not noticed. Or not cared.

He wasn't sure which of those was worse.

He wasn't sure why it hurt when he made his peace with it weeks and weeks ago. It hadn't ached so vividly since the fall. Worst of all was the shock of concern for them, thinking they were out on their bikes in the dark and the snow. Then the relief that Eddie drove them. The feeling was huge enough to eclipse anything else until he knew they were safe.

Hadn't seen them in a month, barely seen them before that, and his first instinct was still to drop everything and grabs his keys. He was two hours away, and his brain was itchy to go drive by and check on them. They didn't need him to do that. They didn't want him to.

And based on how his stomach lurched when he heard that they didn't know he'd left, he didn't think it would do him any favors to go back. Hop and Joyce knew how to handle them if they started to do anything too risky, and the kids were practically glued to Eddie's side.

They weren't his to look after.

"Stop staring out the window like your lover is lost on the moors," Robin complained, wrapping him in a hug from behind.

"I have no idea what that means, Robs."

"Good, I'll explain it to you. Come on, lets go, we've got a kitchen to reorganize. I already started stuff for popcorn and hot chocolate. Lets gooooo, you're too heavy for me to carry, hup two."

Steve snorted and let her drag him away.

"I thought we were going to get my room set up, so I wouldn't have to share with you again?"

She gave him that look. That one that was fond and frustrated and sassy as shit. The one that said she wasn't going to let him get away with being dumb, but wasn't going to call him on it.

"It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind. You can share with me for a while longer. Now do the hot chocolate, and don't skimp on the whipped cream. We bought that can on sale and its going to go bad any second. Just use all of it. Directly into our mouths if we cant get it balance on the mug. Don't want to waste it, and we deserve it. I'm on popcorn duty, and then we're going to defeat this puzzle, Harrington. We outsmarted the Russians, we can outsmart the dishes!"

Shit. He sniffled as he followed her orders.

He was so damn grateful he still had her.

-----

Next>>

Still don't do tag lists. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#You Left Me - You Miss Me #Steve Harrington #Platonic Stobin forever #Steddie eventually #still not making things better #cause that is really not my specialty #and apparently Rob came out before they left

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serahadmoni · 1 month ago

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Silent Lucidity

Cut for the sake of those who are just here for fannish content. Feel free to skip. Though there are tangential references to fandom and fandom spaces, I figured instead of spewing my nonsense elsewhere, I'd leave it here. This is partially in response to vastly more coherent discourse delivered by folks who I would tag, but I'm not 100% how they'd prefer their own containment to be managed. Thus, I shall self-contain because it's mostly personal rambling. Please pardon my mouth.

So, I will preface this by saying out loud, not in tags or muttering under my breath, that I’m…damn, I don’t even know what I am beyond definitely neuro-d. Because even with forty-six (yes, that’s right, I’m OLD as fuck) years under my belt, my gaslight happy narcissistic daddio still has me in a performance-based chokehold. Because heaven forbid one be weak or different or need help.

Hi, I’m the “gifted,” high-performing, eldest daughter of a valedictorian engineer who routinely subjected me to interrogation for receiving a 94% on a math test because it wasn’t a high A. I’m the gal who’s a “breadwinner” (whatever the hell that means anymore) who went back to the office because I felt like I HAD to be productive while my long-suffering golden retriever, thank-fuck-I-found-him-because-I-couldn’t-possibly-do-this-without-him-why-does-he-put-up-with-my-ass husband stayed home with the kids. I’m the mother fiercely determined to do better for my kids - to let them be wholly themselves, whatever that looks like.

I am a duck gliding serenely across the pond while her little webbed toes are going absolutely apeshit beneath the surface. Even if everything appears fine and dandy, chances are there’s a storm of second-guessing, re-evaluating interaction, feeling like shit, re-re-evaluating interaction, self-isolation, flagellation, and concern for having done the right, just, and correct thing. Which is a lot to fucking paddle one's feet about, but it works, sort of.

Anyway, I don’t know what I am. I suspect. I behave as if. Diagnosis would make it real, though, and I’ve been masking, coping, dealing for so long it feels like a moot point. Plus the cognitive dissonance of not telling the aforementioned narcissist about what he would perceive as a “flaw” or telling him and dealing with the fallout. Katie, bar the door if I admit to being anything other than perfectly fine, perfectly fulfilled, perfectly...perfect. So he can hold me up as a feather in his cap to show what a great father he is to have raised someone so well-adjusted and successful. Because I am never just me, but a reflection of his accomplishment or failure. (As a side note, I think Aetos, Sr. is a godsdamned socially savvy narcissist.)

In fandom spaces, it means I tend to hang on the fringes. Not out of a desire to be set apart, but so that I can tell myself I chose to be there. That my social anxiety and awkwardness and my sometimes non-mainstream foci in fandom didn’t put me there.

So that I never burden or overwhelm or ask too much because…yeah, that part of that one fic that one time might have been semi-autobiographical. It also makes it easier to fade into the background. To disappear unnoticed. Because when excellence is demanded and not delivered upon... (and who the hell determines excellence in fic space because there aren’t gold stars awarded for most authentic voice or most tragic because it’s all subjective, but hell if I don't try to earn them anyway) When those fragile moments you love don’t hit the same for others, when you "fail," disengaging entirely is sometimes less painful.

Yes, 100% everyone likes what they like. It's a matter of preference and timing and style. It's a matter of what the person is looking for that day or if they have a TBR they're already working through. Or they're reading their friend's stuff first, which they should. I do. Sometimes it's a matter of marketing (which I suck at because as much as I may hope a thing is well-received, I'm not going to try to convince people with anything but my own insane enthusiasm about it.)

As much as I have to write, I also don’t. I could focus on original stuff or put my brain on cruise control and spin a million glittering galaxies into being that never see the page. Negative feedback can be destructive, absolutely. Especially when unsolicited. But so can silence. And that’s not to imply entitlement. I’m not owed shit. If the concept doesn't appeal, it doesn't appeal. See above: my often left of the dial focus in fandom. But it's so easy to get disheartened when something you've birthed from the absolute dumpster fire of your brain, something you love dearly and are putting into the world in the hopes it moves someone - either to laughter or tears or anger - falls flat. Because the chemical cocktail in my brain interprets it as failure and delivers the message that no matter how beautiful I think my geegaw is, that baby’s still a steaming pile to the objective observer.

Honestly, if you got this far, my apologies. I'm not sure what I'm trying to say beyond: Fandom is hard. I'm quietly fucked up. And I'm sorry if I ever offended you with my perceived indifference. I'm not indifferent, I just don't do halfway very well and I have a hard time trying to normal which can often come off like I'm a being a snob.

And yes, I just spent the last half hour contemplating a select-all delete on this draft because I don't want to be annoying in my commiseration. Then I spent another ten minutes wondering what authority I had to speak on any of it when it's mostly just word vomit about my life experience.

#serah in real life

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moonchild-in-blue · 7 months ago

Note

Massive thank you to you and everyone else who calls out how shitty it is to get mad at peoples interpretations. Sleep tokens music is romantic. Its also toxic. These statements can coexist. Its not your business if someone plays bloodsport or vore or hell even atlantic at their wedding. Youre not them, you dont know what the music means to them. If you see a weird take just roll your eyes and move on, its not a big deal. Absolutely sick and fucking tired of all these "why are you calling this romantic/sexy? Youre stupid and a terrible person!" takes like fucking relax. Media literacy is important yes. Respecting that this music is dark and personal to vessel is also important. Same goes for respecting how people relate to the music in dark ways. But as long as people are not saying things directly to vessel or fans about how their individual trauma is sexy then just chill out and respect peoples different interpretations. It sucks that i cant talk about how i view certain songs without being called horrible things and having really fucked up vitriol aimed at me. Yall need to grow the fuck up and get over yourselves. Im not thinking of your personal shit when i call a certain song romantic/sexy, i dont even know you, sometimes im thinking of my own trauma actually lol. Lets all discuss this music maturely where we respect each other and what each of us as individuals bring to the table for interpretation, stop making this fandom toxic as hell for anyone who doesnt agree 100% with your own interpretation. (Also the whole "youre not allowed to say this song is romantic/sexy" thing is very dismissive of some peoples trauma in itself, it ignores how messy someones feelings toward their abusers/toxic partners can be. Pretty fucked up to call a trauma survivor stupid or a terrible person because a song reminds them of their positive feelings towards someone who hurt them) Anyways yeah, just tired of people being so harsh because they refuse to see other peoples perspectives. I genuinely think one of the most toxic aspects of this fandom is the vitriol over different interpretations, people act like outright children at times with it im ngl, especially with more sexual discussions. It also feels infantilizing towards vessel at times, hes a grown adult who put romantic/sexy elements in his music and he doesnt need people trying to protect him from those themes. Im rambling but this stuff pisses me off so much, this fandom needs to do better

Context post for the clueless ones - regarding my tags/replies

Here's the thing - I've been in fandoms for many, many, MANY years. This type of discussion isn't anything new nor unique to Sleep Token, but it sure does make a comeback quite often. It's tiring to keep repeating the same things over and over, but that's what fandom is all about isn't it?

Someone needs to say something, and I am not one to shy away from uncomfortable conversations like these. Something something, build your own community, be the change you wanna see, etc etc.

I've said pretty much everything I wanna say already under that post, but for the sake of clarity, and because I can't keep my mouth shut apparently -

Under the cut for length - you know the drill:

Music is art. And art is subjective. Meaning, each individual will have their own personal connection and interpretation of a given piece of art, which in this case is Sleep Token's music.

Did Vessel write the songs with a certain intent or meaning? Most likely yes! It's not hard to connect the dots and guess what events/emotions might've transpired and served as inspiration for them (accuracy to personal life is irrelevant and none of our business, but it's also no rocket science to understand what's been said).

Can we establish a base meaning for any given song, or better, can we have a general consensus of what a song is about based on its lyrics and themes? Absolutely! Not every song is like that, but we can all agree there's a lot of recurring themes of past relationships and mental health struggles.

Is it wrong to diminish the songs to one basic element (eg. the sexual undertones) and/or completely disregard the bigger, more important theme? I'd say it is.

Giving Atlantic as an example (which as a lot of you know, is my most favourite song of them and very dear to me): this one has some very blatant references to suicide and depression. Regardless of whether it is based on irl events or not (none of our business!!!), it is extremely heavy and emotionally charged. I find it incredibly disrespectful when people say random stuff during the rituals when he plays this one.

Or for example, how certain people reduce Sleep Token to "baby making metal", instead of acknowledging the insane (insane!) variety of genres and the profound lyricism they present.

Should we limit our views, and by extension, those of others, to surface-level interpretation, without allowing room for different views and interpretations, either fictional lore based or not? ABSOLUTELY NOT.

Vessel himself said to "not restrict ourselves to labels or genres because music transcends it all" (paraphrasing here). It's literally their whole thing. It's very hypocritical to be shouting from the rooftops about "media literacy" and assuming people are stupid or idiots for not understanding the basic, surface-level meaning of a song, when Vessel himself constantly writes in metaphors and half-truths.

I've touched on this a lifetime ago on one of my analysis, but if you *actually* look at the lyrics, you'll realise Vessel hardly ever says what he means. There's always something else behind his words, something he purposefully keeps hidden. It really sneaks upon you sometimes! I'm over a year in and I still find something new everyday on their music. That man has a way to weave in a hundred and one statements under a single sentence, that is just truly beautiful to study.

Is, say, The Love You Want, about a man (Vessel) mourning the fact that his love isn't reciprocated? Yeah! Is it about someone who, despite knowing they can never receive from their lover the attention and affection and care they want, will stay by their side anyways? It is!

Is it about bitterness, spiteful accusations aimed at the one person who should love you fully? Or a reflection of how little self-regard the singer has, so much that they are willingly and actively choosing to stay in a sinking one-sided relationship, because the alternative is too painful to bare? Can you flip the switch and see it as someone who is obsessively pursuing another person, and painting themselves as a victim? All of this, yes!

You can even eliminate the romantic aspect all together and apply it to a relationship with the self (past or future, or an alter ego), or a parental figure. The options are endless. There isn't one universal truth when it comes to music, and as such, all of these takes are 100% correct.

Many statements can be true at the same time - it doesn't make one more true or correct than the other. Simply different. The way we connect with music is very much dictated by our own life experiences, and no two people have lived the exact same life.

Can you prefer a certain way to look at a song, or completely disagree with certain takes? Absolutely! I know I sure as hell do! That's normal and expected and part of the fun in being in a community such as ours. More people means more ways to look at a song - isn't that just wonderful?!

Now, this is very obvious for most of us, but some people, especially in the younger rage, have been taught to look at things in a very black and white way. Not to be that person, but the truth is that the rise in awareness of social issues and "pc-ness", is slowly starting to eliminate the possibility of things being flawed and nuanced.

If you're wrong, you're awful. If you're right, you're obnoxious. Made a mistake? Get cancelled. Grow from your mistakes, but not like that. Learn from your actions, but change your whole personality in a day otherwise you're problematic.

You know what I mean.

Life isn't black and white. Art isn't black and white. Music isn't black and white. What may seem like a toxic, dark, obsessive depiction of a relationship to you, might translate to the deepest and most truest of loves to me. I can acknowledge something is Not Right, while still drawing my own conclusions.

Is Blood Sport a sad af song? Yeah! Definitely not the first thing I'd think of when in a happy relationship. But maybe that's the point. And maybe I do. And that's okay, and none of anyone's business. "Okay but The Apparition isn't a good example of a healthy and romantic-" TO YOU! Maybe that's what love looks like to me! Maybe I just happen to be into it! And what about it?

Maybe to me love comes with all the ugly sides too. The violence, the despair, the self-doubt. Who are you to dictate what I can or can't think? I highly doubt Vessel would go 🗣️ "WRONG! NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT! >:::(", so why would you?

You can, and should, discuss the songs with others! Maybe some people do genuinely need a fresh pair of eyes to help them get to the juicy core of the songs - that's why we're here! To discuss, and exchange ideas! You can, and should, call people out when their engagement with the music is being harmful to others (joking and laughing during Missing Limbs? No bueno. Speculating about Vessel's personal life? VERY no bueno. Choosing a potentially weird song to walk down the aisle? None of your business + not your wedding + you weren't even invited + none of your business. Notice how I've been repeating that. Notice again).

You shouldn't, however, shame and ridicule others for having different views from you.

I think, rather than engaging in pointless discussions and start accusing people of being this or that, we should all exercise a little "don't like? scroll past". Is it harming you or others? No? Then scroll past! Is it an awful, truly horrendous take about something you're really passionate about? Okay! Disgusting! Scroll past! Good for them! 👍

Also - keep an open mind. We're all doing this living businesse for the first time, no one holds all the answers to everything. It's okay to change your mind. It's okay to say the wrong thing and backtrack. It's okay to make a mistake and learn and grow.

You know what's not okay? Being a dick to others because the thing you like is being misinterpreted. It's hard, I know!!! You can block people! You can scroll past! You can look at pictures of your favourite vessel and cleanse your brain!!!! I know I do!!!!!

And this is a last afterthought but - you don't get to complain about the fandom you're in if you're doing nothing to change that. I see many, maaaaany of you bitch about this and that, while having 0 engagement aside from the bitching. Like?? Maybe if you spent more time reblogging cool art or gifs and less time whining about literally everything, this would be a much more pleasant space!! And I DO get to be a little petty here because I sure do try my best to make this a fun and nice community. I am allowed a little bitching 😌

Anyways, tl/dr: don't be a dick; don't like - don't engage; keep an open mind; gaze upon the vessels. Peace and love yall 💙💫

#i think i may have gotten a little carried away but! you get the gist #very rich of me saying don't like - scroll past while engaging in Discourse™ i know 🙄#but. well. i kind of really really don't like this whole “you bad me right” attitude some people assume when talking about certain topics #(and this goes for both the recent discussions of the referenced post and the whole identity reveal thing)#is it too much to ask for a little respect? dang it #i swear december is a cursed month for Sleep Token and fans. last year we had iii's absence + the Wembley situash + THAT WHOLE THING in here #(remember that? lmaoooooo)#and now we're repeating the exact same thing? cmon guys. euclid. break the dang bough already and be someone new #i said i wouldn't get pissy but here we are LMAOOO HYPOCRIT NUMBER 1 IS ME!!!#in my defense. i couldn't not say anything about that Espera thing 😤 my queens. my lieges.#and this. well. i am just annoyed enough to engage 🥰#ANYWAYS!!#gonna schedule this and go honk shoo some more #i wanna be peaceful eeping while ~this~ goes live 💙 muwah #sleep token #darya is unhinged #<- it warrants the writing tag #darya answers #anon ask

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