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#I don't even like steve that much but I don't want to to read anti steve fanfics disguised as sambucky
ptichiypepel · 1 day
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Modern!AU, Medical!AU, Hanahaki!AU in which reader throws up lilies and Steve is blissfully unaware. (12,7k)
Warnings: text may have unpleasant descriptions of diseas, talking about death and dying, angst, open final, unrequited love, ooc Nancy
Soundtrack: Dove Cameron - Bloodshot
Notes: Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's ability to feel disappear.
Interferons are a group of signaling proteins made and released by host cells in response to the presence of several viruses. In a typical scenario, a virus-infected cell will release interferons causing nearby cells to heighten their anti-viral defenses.
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Robin says that if you hadn’t been studying books like a swot at the age of eighteen, and hadn’t been obsessed with writing articles for scientific journals, then all this crap wouldn’t happend at all.
Well, the logic here is that you would have then done all sorts of wild things, that all teenagers do, and eventually calmed down. And since all of this did not happen, you are doing this now, at twenty-eight.
You may not agree with her about this, but your mouth is filled with flower petals, so you remain silent.
- You, fool, - the current Robin is not distinguished by empathy at all, because all the empathy that she was so proud of completely disappeared by the end of the internship. Healthy medical cynicism was formed by the third course, when future doctors began to drink regularly once a week. - What are you waiting for? You play with fire, I'm not gonna save your ass when it's too late.
You stretch your lips into a smile and put a cookie in your mouth, immediately coughing and covering your mouth with your hand.
You hoped that at least Robin would have some brain cells today and would bring normal food from home to duty.
You? You live alone and simply hate cooking, but Robin has a wife - and a bunch of other things. Brain, for example. Sometimes you envie her, but not very often.
Your night shifts rarely coincide, but if this happens, you certainly spend them together - fortunately, the surgical and microsurgical buildings are very close. One night in one building, the other in another, although personally Robin prefers hanging out in microsurgery with you. There are less problems here, because patients in the eye department need help at night much less often.
And now you both are sitting in your staff room, drinking tea and eating biscuits, and you start to curse, coughing and running out to return about five minutes later, examining some weird wet rag in your fingers.
When Robin realizes what it is, she feels sick to her stomach. They are already so big...
- They’re not daffodils, I’m betting my ass, - you say calmly and shake a wet flower in front of Robin's face. Well at least you washed it before showing. - These are some shitty rare lilies, I read about them. Pankratium or something like that.
- I hope it's not literally shitty? - Robin's still able to jock about it. Because - what else left?
- No. This one's from the mouth.
You put a flower on the table, and it gradually begins to dry out from the water and take on normal shape - sharp, long white petals gathered into a corolla, a thin and green stem, torn at the base.
And if earlier these were just seeds or individual parts of an inflorescence, now they are whole flowers, perhaps smaller than ordinary ones. But this, of course, is a matter of time.
When you first start coughing and notice some white petals in the sink, you want to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, - and you do.
At first you don't even understand where you could have become infected, but then, after analyzing it, you laugh louder, because only to you could happen such thing.
You know for sure that Billy, who has been in love with you for several years, had an operation - Robin told you about this as soon as she saw a quota for him in her colleague’s plans.
You felt immediate relief, even though you understood all the consequences - but it’s still better, than just dying ingloriously.
At least for ambitious Billy who wouldn't want to die from a disease caused by broken heart. Because Billy was too proud to let people know he has one in the first place.
Another thing is that you didn’t even suspect where a bouquet of flowers in a vase - withered hyacinths - appeared in your office one day from - at first you didn’t even pay attention, and when you did, it was too late.
They began to smell disgustingly sweet, and you went up to the table and for some reason touched them with your finger, immediately withdrawing your hand in disgust. Then you asked the nurse to throw them away, and a couple of weeks later you saw the first petal in the palm of your hand.
It was a funny greeting from Billy, with a deep meaning. And you, who had been in love for a long time and unrequitedly, but not with him, also began to vomit this rubbish and at first you didn't even tell anyone anything.
Either you didn’t take it seriously, or you couldn’t believe that fate had played such a cruel joke on you, but it doesn’t matter anymore - Rob found out about everything already when the petals turned into inflorescences, and your cough began to remind her of the need to do fluorography. That's what medical friends are for, to tell jokes about tuberculosis.
That's when you tell her - and even show, opening your hand with a heap of wet petals. For some reason, you never throw them away right away, carefully washing them of blood and examining them with true scientific interest, as if you were going to write a dissertation.
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You all meet in the first year of university, when you enter the same faculty of medicine and end up in the same group. You, Robin, Steve and Eddie for some time become a curse for the entire class and teachers, although you personally are more for the company than for joy - during these times, you really put an effort into your studies, write vigorously in all scientific journals and speak at every conference.
Everyone else of your friends wasn't bothered with studying, especially Steve who wanted to feel a free college life like they show in the movies. There begin parties in the dorm, absenteeism of classes and inevitable learning before the session - because well, you are doctors, you actually have to know how to treat people.
In the third course the teachers danced when Eddie decides to expel, because he understood that college is not for him and he wants to work as a mechanic in his ankle's garage.
Situation somehow immediately becomes calmer.
The rest of you rent an apartment not far from the university, saying goodbye to the dorm forever, and begin to live together: Steve after a big scandal with his parents funally starts to put an effort to his studies, but you, on the contrary, go crazy. You raise your head from your textbooks, look around and begin to realize how much you have missed.
For example, how incredibly smart and interesting it would be, in your fifth year at university, to fall head over heels for your fellow classmate, with whom you share a tiny two-room apartment and a can of cheap beer. 
"That would be fucking cool" you think and immediately begin to work in this direction, and soon enough you actually find yourself in love with Steve Harrington.
That’s why Robin says that if it weren’t for the textbooks, all this shit could have passed painlessly earlier and not destroy your life, but for you everything turns out differently, and you believe that you has the right for your own path. The path of the ninja. The path of the shinobi. The path of the stupid dumb ass idiot.
You are proud of your path and don't regret anything when boys in the university begin to look at you dreamily, and one of them, Billy, even confesses his love to you and gets sick with this viral crap, which was rare then - a couple of cases per hundred people. 
You fall in love with Steve, and you don't care that someone is vomiting flowers because of your disinterest.
You rightly believe that one cannot force a person to reciprocate feeling for someone to whom they cannot and/or does not want to do so. 
You joyfully rush through the soft clouds of inevitable friendzone, but fortunately, at first you have enough brains to do it in silence. Robin, of course, notices something, but Steve remains blissfully unaware that he has become the object of your sudden and growing love. Steve has other things to do - he finally finds a common language with his parents, also doctors in their thirtieth generation, he comes to his senses and dives headlong into science, discovering some - before unexplored - potential for this.
The three of you still lived together, sharing two rooms, and one day you realize that this is not a joke anymore.
You are madly in love with Steve, and now he’s with textbooks and different girls, you know. With one of them even for a very long time: Steve gets together with Nancy in his fifth year (ironically, at about the same time that you decide to fall in love with him) and remains for a long six years.
And at the moment when you and Robin are sitting in the microsurgery resident's office, working night shift, Steve is also with her - apparently on another vacation in Maldives or something like this. 
One can afford this if one's father is the head physician of one of the large hospitals - although it must be admitted, Steve never sought to enjoy such privileges. 
And his parents did not try to help him even while studying at the university. Later, however, his father did hired him to work, but not for his pretty eyes.
When the time comes to choose a specialization, Steve goes to oncology, Robin goes to surgery, and you - after long thinking decide on ophthalmology.
You confess everything to Steve right at the graduation, when it becomes clear that you will most likely either see each other less often or not see each other at all. At that graduation there was a lot of booze, easily accessible weed, a tiny apartment and a tinier balcony where you couldn’t even stand without touching your neighbor.
You are so drunk that you don't give a damn about anything.
You try to kiss him and he pushes you away. That's it.
You got terribly offended, of course, but you never stop loving him. Robs learns about this not even from you, but from Steve himself who, even when drunk, usually remembers everything down to the smallest detail - she finds out and advises you to stop being a fool. 
Laughter is laughter, but a few more years pass, and you begin to vomit daffodils, and it’s no longer funny.
- They’re not daffodils, you blind bitch, - you get angry and take another cookie. - This is a lily.
- Doesn't matter, - Robin rolls her eyes and tries not to show how much the situation worries her more and more. 
If a couple of years ago she considered your love for Steve to be a whim, now that you have inhaled Billy’s flowers and they have sprouted, it becomes clear that this is serious. The seeds simply wouldn't have sprouted out of whim.
– You need to take all the tests, x-rays and fluoroscopy. We need to do something about this. I don’t want to find a flowerbed instead of you one day.
You lean back in your chair and smile strangely. In the dim light of the nightly light of the resident's room the bruises under the eyes seem clearer, the lines of the cheekbones are sharper, - exactly an expressionist painting, especially since just five minutes ago you was fishing a full-fledged large flower out of your throat.
- You, Robs, should think about death easier with your job, - you say calmly. – In my operating room, you know, I have much less chance of encountering it. I can leave you without an eye, but in your room a person can end up being dead.
For some reason Robin shudders at this cynical calm. No, she really has a much simpler attitude towards death, because without this defensive reaction you won’t survive in this business: if you let all the pain and suffering pass through yourself, you can retire with a certificate from a psychiatric hospital. 
But now when she hears something like that from you - a closest friend, almost a sister even - in relation to your own life, it’s at least uncomfortable.
- Why don't you want to have a surgery? – Robin asks quietly once again, even if she knows what she will get in response. 
This is the game already - she asks this question over and over again, and you answers it every time in different ways.
- I’m just wondering how this will all end, - you chuckle, and Robin thinks that fucking daffodils have already sprouted in your brain. Oh sorry, lilies. - But, seriously, Robs. I just don't want it. So that later i will live like a hollow doll? Have you seen Billy? It's not even life. Besides, I always dreamed of dying beautifully, and could there be anything more beautiful than turning into a huge flowerbed?
This is the first time Robin hears this option. Such expression deserves applause. You should have became an actress. And if at the end of the performance no one gives you flowers, you can cough them up for yourself.
- Go through the examination so that you can at least understand the situation, - Robin makes one last attempt, but you are already looking at your phone and scrolling through the Instagram feed, not paying attention to her. - At least an x-ray.
- Did you masturbate recently? - you asks all of a sudden and Robin's confused.
- No?... - the answer sounds like an question.
- Then go fuck yourself, Robin.
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You wake up not from the alarm clock, but from an itch under your ribs that began to torment you in the evening. Having taken a couple of Suprastin pills, you went to bed and had vivid LSD dreams all night, only to collapse at five in the morning from painful scabies.
Lifting your T-shirt in front of the mirror, your discover a bright scarlet pulsating lump on the side of your stomach, just below your ribs, as if you had been stung by a Chernobyl hornet - it hurts and itches, and you simply hate this feeling.
And here you are thinking you just ate too much sweets the night before. You touch the abscess with the tip of your finger, and it itches even more - and as soon as you decides to scratch the skin with nails, the abscess bursts, flaring up with sharp pain, and pours blood onto your stomach along with disheveled white petals protruding from the wound.
- Fuck! - you yell, barely managing to pull off your white T-shirt and cover the wound with your palm. Blood still flows through your fingers, drops fall on the light carpet and laminate, you, groaning, go into the bathroom. - Fucking shit...
You carefully pull out the flower and throw it into the sink, deciding to deal with it later - right now you want to grab the phone and do something nasty. It’s simply impossible to deny yourself this, so you go to Steve’s Instagram and without greetings, in a very adult way, write to him in direct message a short “fucking son of a bitch.”
Of course, you don't receive an answer right away, but the main thing was to express the emotion: if it weren’t for Steve, you wouldn't be standing now in front of the mirror and wondering whether it was possible to cover the hole in your stomach with a band-aid or something else would come out of it again.
Lily, by the way, is gorgeous and neat - and much more larger than those that usually crawl out of the throat. You look at the bloody flower with morbid interest, wash it under the water and places it in a small vase next to the mirror in the bathroom. You still don't know why you do this, but sometimes you directly fight the desire to collect a bouquet for Steve and send it by mail. For this fucker to inhale and get sick. Although it’s unlikely that Steve is unrequitedly in love with someone.
- Listen, maybe I should write an article on this topic, - you say inspiredly, while Robin sits and fills some documents in her office. Your operating day ended, and you apparently came to eat Robin's lunch. - Everyone is romanticizing this shit. It’s like you’re coughing up petals, flowers appear in your ribs, in your lungs, on your wrists. So pretty and mysterious. But you, as a doctor, understand that seeds are distributed throughout the body, and in the intestines, for example, there is a very favorable environment for their germination.
- Babe, I’m not sure I want to know about this at all.
- But Robin! – you are indignant, rolling around the office on a chair and crossing your arms over your chest. – Little snotty girls dream of such beauty in their wet dreams, but no one tells them they will even shit flowers!
Robin puts down her pen and looks at you - and fights the urge to grab you by the scruff of the neck and drag you to the radiologist, then to the ENT specialist, and then to the psychotherapist. No, most likely, first of all, to the psychotherapist. You smile at all thirty-two, and only Robin could see the yearning frozen in your eyes.
- So you’re shitting daffodils, - she clarifies, just in case, - Like a princess.
- Lilies, - you nod. - Like a princess.
You refuse to take tests, because, according to you, you know perfectly well what is happening and at what stage you are.
For such a long period of time you are holding up amazingly well - at work, despite the fact that there are a lot of doctors around (even if they are all only ophthalmologists), no one suspects you are sick.
No one knows about this except Robin, who swears to be silent, and Eddie, and you threatened to squeeze out his eyes if he says a word. You are happy this way - you don't want an audience and a fuss around your condition.
And everything's fine, really. Sometimes thou the ribs hurt, as with neuralgia, and the eyeballs burst from pressure. Then you simply buy more painkillers, Baralgin in ampoules and vasodilating drops. Nothing to worry about... The end is perfectly clear.
A couple of weeks after that conversation, when Robin once again tries to convince you to take care of yourself, Steve, who has been missing for six months, appears and announces that he wants to gather their entire company and classmates. The assumption about the Maldives turns out to be incorrect, Steve tells Robin that he just returned from a scientific symposium in Germany and wants to share all sorts of news.
You are also invited, despite the fact that your correspondence continues to consist of a lonely “fucking son of a bitch” from which you concludes that Steve has forgotten about all the past awkwardness. Or he pretends to forget.
In the end after that graduation you saw each other enough times, and Steve acted normally. You work in the same hospital after all, so it is necessary to maintain adequate relationships - and apparently Steve succeeded in this better than you. In the end, it’s clear which one of you is calling names in the direct messages.
At first, you don't want to go, and Robin agrees, because this gathering definitely won’t make things better. Then you suddenly change your mind and get dress up for the party, despite the fact that Steve is gathering everyone at his house, which means Nancy will be there too.
- If he loved her, - you say with fake joyfulness, checking yourself in the mirror and straightening your black shirt, (because you can’t wear white, the stupid wound would show through. You cover it with a band-aid, it stings, and flowers still sometimes come out.), - He would have married her long ago. Axiom.
Outside you smoke two cigarettes in a row to calm down yourself, and Robin says it’s harmful in your case to smoke at all, but you burst into laughter, brightly, beautifully. It's funny indeed to advise not to smoke to a person who already has bushes instead of lungs. Or in what form do lilies usually bloom? In the bushes, right?
By the time you arrive, there are already a lot of people in the large, cozy apartment, and Steve meets you at the entrance - with a pack of cigarettes in his hand, because he was also apparently planning to go out to smoke. You meet his eyes, like in a shitty melodrama, and freeze.
And usually people say that the eyes of their beloved are pretty, bottomless, bright and all this shit, but you see them in different way. The position of the eyeball is correct, movements are full, free, eyelids are adjacent, eyelash growth is correct. The lacrimal apparatus is without any features, the conjunctiva is pale pink and clean.
- Hi, - Steve hugs you both and doesn’t notice with what morbid interest you are staring at him. - Come on in, guys, good to see you. Everyone is already here, we were waiting for you. Or you wanna smoke first?
You purses your lips and squeezes past Steve, and only God knows (and Robin, probably) how much effort it takes you not to look at Steve anymore and generally pretend that everything is fine.
Flowers react to their creator: throat tightens, and it becomes more difficult to breathe, head becomes heavy, and a grass taste rises up the throat, as if you were chewing hay half an hour ago, and now it wants back outside.
The company is just right, Nancy is beautiful and smiling, and for you the main goal of the evening become not to behave decently there, but at least not to suffocate, because as soon as Steve appears in sight, your body begins to prepare for mating dances.
- If you go throw up, don’t forget to clean up the flowers - Robin leans towards your ear and tugs on the leather necklace around your neck. - Or maybe don't. Who the hell knows, maybe if Steve will understand everything, you’ll at least talk about this?
An enraged look in response lets Robin know that you are not going to talk with Steve on this topic, although life has other plans this evening: during a general conversation Steve, hugging Nancy sitting next to him says, that he, as a part of a research group, began to develop non-surgical therapy for the flower virus.
Well, who would have thought.
You choke on your drink and look up at Steve for the first time this evening.
- Really? – The voice soaked with defiant causticity when you pretend to grin, while feeling as if you had swallowed a piece of ice. - How is it going?
Steve shines like a fucking garland, hugs his Nancy and really seems to think that he is busy with fucking important and useful work. No, maybe it really is important and useful, but you want to scream.
- We are at the initial stage, - Steve joyfully answers and spreads his hands wide, as if showing how ambitious the researchers’ plans are. It’s not like you, eye-healers, sitting there raking the specks out of people's eyes, or whatever you’re doing there. Oh, yes, you treat cataracts for old ladies. – It is necessary to understand what factors influence the fact that human interferon is not able to resist the virus. Animals do not get sick from it; experiments have shown this more than once. So there's a high chance of identifying antidotal substances sooner or later.
- Wow, cool, - you inertly clap you hands and get up, grabbing a pack of Marlboros. Why doesn’t such an apartment have a balcony, what a joke? - This is a very honorable thing. Keep me updated.
Steve seems to be saying something else, but you are no longer listening to him, going out onto the staircase, and Robin is generally surprised that you didn’t leave earlier. It was clear that your nerves were already on edge, and when the topic of the virus came up, that was it, the last straw and it became obvious that you couldn’t hold on any longer. But no, you even saved your face.
What a brave little girl.
Steve, however, after a minute goes after you, as if sensing something - or finally recognizing a liter of expressed poison in the sarcastic tone. You actually stand on the stairs and smoke, leaning on the railing, and look down at the opening between the floors, as if wondering if you can jump there. The problem is that you will most likely survive. Not an option. And it will be ugly too.
- What’s wrong with you? - Steve doesn’t put on a jacket, he goes out in just a T-shirt, striking a lighter. You hear his voice and grimace. - You sat there all evening like something got your panties in a twist.
You turn around and make an apologetic face innocently, mockingly, although you're shaking either from anger or from resentment (at Steve, at yourself, at the idiotic situation), and you try to hide your trembling hands in your pockets.
- And you're an expert on panties, right? - You hate yourself for this attitude, like a child in the kindergarten, but it’s difficult to control yourself because there is an increasing ache between your ribs, and it hurts so hard that you want to bend in half. You already got used to Ketorol, and the painkillers need to be changed. Fucking flowers, fucking painkillers, fucking Steve.
He opened his mouth to answer, but you finally bent over at the most inopportune moment, because you had been holding back all evening, you even persuaded Robin to give you baralgin in your vein so that there would be a block for at least a few hours - and now the block's over, and after it the attacks are always stronger. You cough exasperatedly, grabbing the railing, covering your mouth with your hand in horror, realizing that you can't stop flowers from coming out now.
Indeed the cough pushes another bloody flower into the palm of your hand, and you recoils from Steve rushing towards you - he turns pale, turns green (and he calls himself a doctor?), seeing the blood on your fingers, looks at you with genuine horror, while you are already quite indifferently walking towards the garbage can and throw away the flower.
You take paper napkins from your pocket and wipe your hands. All this in silence, without a single word, because what's the point of talking now anyway. And it’s unlikely that Steve, who recently started to explore this virus, won’t understand what happend. You don't have to be a researcher to understand what's going on here when a girl in front of you starts to cough a huge flower.
- Y/n, what the fuck is that? - you're amused because you have never heard such a tone from Steve. Scared, worried. - What the fuck is this? What the fuck is happening?
You even look at him with interest, wondering in what other variations you will hear this simple question. Steve's hands are shaking, like a heroin addict suffering from withdrawal symptoms, while he tries to shake one more cigarette out of his pack. Or an explanation of what's going on.
- Who is this, huh? – Steve whispers, while you send the bloody napkins after the flower into the garbage can. - Why don’t you...
− Who? – you don't know whether to laugh or cry, and therefore choose neutral and theatrically press your hands to your chest. Seriously, Steve is dumb even in this situation and can't put two and two together. – Are you serious, Steve? You should drink some glycine. Fish oil, or what other vitamins do we need to keep our head working? You need them, you want to invent a cure from this disease after all, yeah? As you already understood, I’m interested.
(You're not)
- Stop with this shit, - Steve clutches a cigarette in his teeth and, taking a step towards you grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you roughly, in order to somehow bring you to your senses. Although he's the one who needs to put himself together here - he is pale, eyes opened wide, his fingers are trembling, you feel it. - Fucking answer me!
And you are generally so happy all of a sudden that you look at Steve, bowing your head to the side like a bird, and don't feel shy anymore to openly glance over his face - there is slight stubble on his cheeks, his lips are bitten, chapped, his eyebrows are furrowed, eyes angry.
For you Steve is incredibly handsome, and this made it difficult to breathe even without flowers.
- Okay, since you insist so much, I’ll answer all of your questions, - you say and carefully disentangles yourself from his strong grip. - Who is it? You. Am I kidding? No. Has it started a long time ago? Yes. Why don't I have surgery? I don't want to. That's it. Can I go now, I have to get up early for work tomorrow?
Steve becomes numb, unable to utter a word, and you can be proud of yourself because you didn't start to cry and looked decent in this whole unfortunate situation.
- You’re joking, - Steve says helplessly.
You roll your eyes.
- Stop, I told you, I'm serious. And as you can see, all these years i haven’t said anything, and I wouldn’t have said anything further if I hadn’t gotten myself outed like an idiot today. Steve, let's not talk about this, shall we? Please.
You stop acting tough, like you don't care at all - you become serious, a little tired, you ask sincerely, and this completely drives Steve into a dead end. You go back to the flat to pick up your jacket, nod goodbye to all the friends and even Nancy, and then go down the stairs, waving to Steve.
He burns himself with the second cigarette in a row and swears under his breath.
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Steve can't sleep all night, and the next morning he immediately calls Robin, as soon as the acceptable time for this comes - he even doesn’t care that she is at work. He tries to bombard her with questions because he is sure that Robin knows everything - and he's right; he doesn’t hold back, he accuses and freaks out, like, what the hell, but Robs doesn’t appreciate his yelling.
- Don't, Steve - she says sternly, and this tone somehow makes Steve quiet. – I wouldn’t tell you anything, because I don’t have the right to do so. This is not my secret. And you know her as well as I do.  Once she has gotten something into her head, it is impossible to change her mind.  And yes, I’ve been fighting for six months now to get her to do surgery.
- Robin, let’s meet today, yeah? Fuck, I have to know everything, - Steve starts once again, and Robin has to agree. - I can’t do this, I can’t just leave it like that. I do care about her for fuck sake!
He tells Nancy some nonsense to get away from home for the whole day, because his chaotic thoughts are making his head swell. He meets Robin only at lunch, she promised to get out of the hospital, and Steve has a lot of time, which he spends sitting in a cafe and mindlessly studying your profile on Instagram. 
You post beautiful photos and selfies and Steve would never believe that this pretty girl, flawless on every photograph, covers up bruises under her eyes in the morning and picks flowers out of abscesses.
Steve has already written more than one article on this virus and doesn't romanticize it at all, and he can only wonder how do you manage to hide everything from everyone for such a long period of time? 
He opens the recent photo in your profile, you are looking at him, photographed against the background of a plain wall with lilies in hands. And Steve isn't sure you bought these flowers.
Conversation with Robin doesn’t make the situation better.
- Don't blame yourself, - says Robin, - It’s her decision, and it’s not your fault that this happened because of you. She didn’t blame herself at all while Billy walked around half-dead.
- But he had surgery, - Steve says quietly, and Robin nods. - What kind of... What kind of flowers are those anyway?
- Looks like daffodils. I don't know.
- Daffodils, - Steve smiles sadly, awkwardly, and this immediately makes Robin uncomfortable, as if she has inserted into someone else’s life without asking, even thou they both are her best friends. - It fits her.
And just like that, the puzzle comes together: strange behavior and name-calling in the Instagram direct message. This is you, and in general this explains a lot.
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Before the operating day you always go to bed early, because there can be two or ten operations, and even though most of them are trivial and quick, an attempt to screw up can cost someone an eye. On an operating day a clear head and a steady hand are especially needed, and you even allow yourself to take half of phenazepam in the evening in order to sleep better.
The fact that you will have to urgently call to work and ask to be replaced becomes clear in the very first second, when you, waking up in the middle of the night, can't open your eyes - a sharp pain radiates to your head, as if sharp blades had been shoved under the eyelids.
You growl through your teeth and roll out of bed, starting to rummage around in the bedside table - you have a bunch of different eye drops piled up there, and in order to even open your eyes normally and see what happened, you have to pour in a freezer. A quick examination in the mirror shows swollen eyelids, bright red sclera and bloody discharge - your fingers tremble when you pull back the lower eyelid and see several tiny white flowers there.
A perfect small copy. The anger takes over instantly and doesn't let go - you smash a vase in the bathroom and desperately scream.
You drip some useless antiviral to calm your soul, then add Broxinac. 
You even call your colleague and lie about viral conjunctivitis, after that you're running circles around the apartment and kicking chairs and armchairs. This is already a knife in the back. You wasn’t ready for such crap, even if you assumed that these fucking flowers would sooner or later come out of the eyes too.
To be honest you just hoped to die before this happened. You once again go to the bathroom, rake out tiny buds from under the eyelids, drip more anesthesia and go back to bed, turning off the phone. Today is your day off.
"And don’t fucking call me", you write to Steve on Instagram before falling asleep, and it’s not like Steve was gonna call.
When college ends and that graduation takes place, at which you, having interrupted Steve mid-sentence in a conversation on the balcony, lean forward and kiss him, freezing - Steve is so lost. It takes about ten seconds to realize what happened, and for all these ten seconds you study his lips with your own, and only then you recoil, pressing your palms to your chest.
Steve pushes you more out of confusion than out of anger; he doesn’t control his hands at all then - and it’s not like he’s very drunk. It’s you who usually gets wasted from one glass of wine, and Steve is more experienced, and he always remembers everything to the last detail.
You look at him helplessly and run out of the balcony and out of the apartment in general, before Steve can say a word.
Then you both try hard to pretend that nothing happened, and at some point Steve begins to think that it was just your incomprehensible joke. Now, when Steve remembers these white flowers, he belatedly realizes how stupid he was for thinking it was just a jock, he realizes his brain gave him a perfect excuse to not look any deeper into that event and most importantly he realizes you both needed to talk about it right after the kiss happend.
"Good job, Steve", he thinks gloomily and gives himself sarcastic applause. "Talking went well".
There were always a lot of people around Steve, and even if not all of them were friends, there were plenty of acquaintances. And they say, every friend is for something special - there is a friend to play football with them and watch the Champions League, there is a friend to go on a double date with the girls, there is a friend from whom you can copy homework when you didn't have time to do it. And you were a friend for soul, and Steve would be lying if he denied that you were his favorite friend.
You always lived in some kind of 4D world of your own, beautiful as unicorn's snot, complex and unusual, and therefore especially cool - and you were as cool as these unicorn's snot, which once upon a time helped Voldemort get back on his feet. You were helping Steve in the same way and sometimes didn’t even suspect it.
Steve could always come to you, lie down by your side and start whining about how he got rejected by yet another girl; you, without looking up from your textbook, were laughing and saying that the time would come, and some princess would definitely fall in love with him. Steve remembers that conversation now and grins - well, yes, you were right. The princess indeed fell in love with him.
Steve never hid the fact that he adores you from the tips of your fingers to your very fucked up jokes. Steve never had a problem admitting his admiration for anyone, and you were a perfect subject for this - Steve admired almost everything about you. Intelligence, thinking, an understanding of the world, puns that are stupid to the point of genius, the beaded handwriting, calligraphic, doesn't even look like a doctor’s handwriting at all.
Laughter, which Steve could listen to instead of a lullaby, and also bright soft eyes under long and fluffy eyelashes. Steve sincerely admired you and never considered it something more than a friendship. He laughed at your every phrase, waited with his mouth open for your stories and loved spending his free time with you. You were his favorite friend, and when it all ended like that, Steve felt empty.
No, he had already matured, and like a real big boy, he accepted the understanding that sometimes this happens - paths diverge, people come and go, but he didn't think, honestly didn’t think and was not ready, that you would leave his life just like that. You, whom he visited every damn evening before that fucking graduation, and lay next to you, talking non-stop about everything that was in his head and leaning towards the palm that stroked his hair.
You both were twenty-three, everything was so right and natural, and Steve never thought that it could be otherwise. Now you are twenty-eight, and he doesn’t know what he can do to fix anything.
To be honest, he is still ready to be the one to blame for everything, if only you would agree to accept his help.
You, as expected, don't answer his calls, although you appear online in almost all messengers - most likely, you either blocked him or simply ignore him, and Steve, after meeting his father in the main building, goes to microsurgery, deciding to wait until the end of the working day.
There's basically only an hour left, and Steve sits down on a bench along the alley, looking around furtively and lighting a cigarette - actually, he's not allowed to smoke here, but right now it's vital for him.
- Jonathan, hi, man, - he exhales a stream of smoke, waiting for Byers to pick up the phone. - Are you busy? I have to distract you. Tell me, are you working with those patients now? Regarding our research, I mean.
He met Byers back when they found themselves in a target research group for the development of non-surgical therapy, and immediately became friends. And if Steve doesn't deal with patients and operations, studying the theory, then Jonathan works directly with patients - judging by his reports, dozens of people with flowers in their bodies pass through his hands every month.
- Of course, Steve. Just had another surgery today. The woman with metastases. What's the question?
- Tell me, - Steve says slowly, – Are there any official mechanisms that force patients to undergo treatment?
Jonathan is silent for a long time, clearly seriously considering the question.
- No, dude. It’s the same as with any other disease, we can't force anyone to undergo treatment. You haven’t seen anyone with cancer or HIV being forced to do so, right? Many even refuse to do retroviral therapy. It’s the same here, - Byers rustles something in the background. - The only thing is that if it's teenagers, a psychologist can work with them and try to convince them. Why, you got a pubescent girl suffering from unrequited love?
Steve gloomily grimaces.
- A grown ass woman with a medical education.
- Oh, well, - Steve almost can see how Jonathan shrugs in surprise. - It seems like a choice, I'm afraid. The main thing is that if she will suddenly change her mind and want to undergo surgery, it will be very difficult in the last stages. Many doctors don't even agree to do it. But to fully understand the situation, I at least need to see the flowers.
Steve lowers his head, examining the cigarette pressed into the asphalt, and is silent for a long time, closing his eyes. There is very little time left before the end of the working day, and he needs to catch you before you see him and run away again.
- Well, hello, - Steve barely manages to grab you by the elbow as you rush down the alley and pull you towards himself so that you almost fall on top of him. You look angrily from under your brows and dark glasses. - Don't run away. Are you okay?
He notices that the sun is gone, it’s a gloomy autumn outside, it’s cold October, and dark glasses clearly seem unnecessary.
- Never been better, - you spit out and try to free yourself, but if Steve has grabbed onto something like a tick, then he can’t be torn off. - What do you want from me? I need to go home.
- And we’ll go, - Steve agrees and jingles his car keys. - Don’t worry.
Not paying attention to all the bickering, Steve puts you in the car, no longer even asks you to take off your glasses, because he understands that you're hiding something. You spend the entire way home in silence, and you generally turn away and look out the window, just not to look at him, who, on the contrary, does nothing but stare. You even snap and ask him to stop looking. It’s good that your eyes have gotten better today, although in between patients you ran to the toilet a couple of times to cry with flowers - you swore and watched as they, so tiny that they could be washed straight into the sink, stuck to the ceramics.
Steve follows you into the apartment without an invitation, although you silently try to push him out - in melodramas the characters make eye contact and freeze, but in reality you almost get into a fight just in case. Steve, having gotten angry, simply shoves you into the hallway and slams the door behind you both.
- Calm down, - he advises almost threateningly and points towards the bathroom. - Otherwise I’ll have to put you in the cold shower. Maybe you can at least make me some tea, idiot?
You look at him like a wolf and silently go to the kitchen, hit the button on the kettle, slam the cabinet doors, taking out tea and snacks. You loudly slam the refrigerator door, move chairs as if they were made of stone, put cups on the table, trying, as it feels, to break them. Steve trains breathing techniques and enters the kitchen already calm, catching you by the hand and forcing you to stop.
- Thank you, - he says softly, nodding at the cups with hot tea. It’s already October outside, it’s cold, and his fingers are numb. - Y/n, stop and listen to me. No, I said, listen, don’t try to interrupt me.
You immediately feel as if you are a teenage girl and you stand in front of the boy you like, looking at him with wide eyes, unable to say a word - only you are now standing in front of Steve, who has sat down on a chair and is holding your hands in his, not allowing you to escape. 
- I have a good friend who deals with these issues, - Steve begins and hurries to continue, because you are obviously starting to go furious. - Please, let’s just at least consider this option.
- Jesus, leave me alone, for God’s sake, -  you pull your hands away, but Steve catches them again, looking into your face - you are still so pretty. No, much more pretty than you were five years ago, your age incredibly suits you. Although Steve's not sure what is age and what is disease. - Shove your pity up your ass, Steve. I don't need it. And if you feel guilty, I will write in my will that you have nothing to do with it. I’ll write - "if you thought I was in love with Steve Harrington and it's all his fault, then no, I wasn't and it's not." Are you happy now?
Steve looks at you skeptically, and it is very clear what he thinks about this. You feel almost unbearable urge to slap him.
- You know what? Yeah, - Steve agrees unexpectedly easily. - This will be quite enough. The most important thing is that no one, God forbid, thinks that you were in love with me, otherwise everyone will think it's my fault you died. Be sure to write it, I beg you. I guess I can go now. I'm very glad you understood me.
And he gets up just like that, smiling and waving, only bowing is missing, and before you have time to react to his little show, Steve grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you like a kitten - he looks so angry, as if he could gnaw your throat with his teeth and not even choke. You involuntarily calm down and look helplessly, begin to cough meaningfully, because your breathing is short again, and your ribs begin to ache.
- Stop this fucked up shit, for fuck's sake, - Steve hisses, spitting out the words in your face in such way that you really want to run your palm over your skin and take them off. - Stop thinking I don’t give a fuck about you, that I don’t give a fuck about what's happening to you. Although I understand that it's so convenient. And so pleasant, right, fucking drama queen? Let me at least do something for you.
You smile, gesturing for Steve to move away, turn away and cough, bending over the sink - you immediately wash everything off, wipe your lips and drink a glass of water in one gulp to soothe your itchy throat. You wipe your hands for a long time, then look up at Steve - you finally took off your glasses, and he sees that your eyes were bloodshot and eyelids were swollen.
- What do you want? Or rather, what can you do?
- Something, - Steve answers and suddenly pulls you to him, hugs you, buries his nose in your hair, taking advantage of his height, and closes his eyes; you fall completely silent, feeling Steve pressing you tightly to himself, not giving you a single chance to escape. - Just at least don’t tell me to go away. I don’t care what you think about pity and about the fact that I feel guilty. I just miss you.
And you understand what Steve is talking about - you miss him, too, since the time that you didn't communicate normally, since the time Steve pushed you away on the balcony after a kiss, since the time you became strangers.
While Steve hugs you tightly and doesn’t let you go, the flowers don’t tear your chest from the inside so much.
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Robin unironically loves to come to microsurgery in her free time and sit in the corner of the examination room, watching you work.
In addition to the fact that patients of all ages - young and old (mostly male) sincerely consider you the most wonderful doctor in the world, you really do your job perfectly - despite the fact that you spent the last years of the university under the banner of a love-struck brain. Yes, even though you occupied both hemispheres of your brain with your love for Steve at that time, you, out of habit, didn't stop being a swot. It's just that Steve suddenly became one too.
Until the fourth year, to be honest, the words “symposium” and “Steve Harrington” simply couldn't be imagined in one sentence. Robin has suspicions that you played a significant role in Steve’s changes - you two literally spent all the time together at that time.
Robin squeezes past a line of patients jostling with plump cards with medical histories, and sits down on a tiny chair in the corner - you, standing in the pose of a thinker next to another granny, don’t even notice her.
- Sweetie, I can’t see the last line very well...
- Missis... - you look at the patient card, habitually adjusting the glasses on your nose. - Johnson, please! I've never seen the last line in my life. And I’m not even eighty-three yers old. Don't anger God!
- Doctor, I don’t sleep well at night, - complains another woman.
- I can offer you to work one shift at the hospital with me, - you write down the assignment on the card and hand it to her. - Go to the treatment room.
You are tired of explaining that in microsurgery you don't treat insomnia at all.
− Drip three times a day by the hour according to this scheme. What? What if you mess up the order? Well, I don't know. Perhaps then this will be the last time we see each other. Or rather the last time you see me.
- Yes, two weeks of injections! Yes, imagine, they are also made into the eyes. How? With a needle, obviously, what's so shocking?
- Yes, it might hurt. What did you want to hear from me? That it doesn't hurt? So that you will get disappointed in me later?
Robin, honestly, wouldn’t want to get to you for treatment, but loves to observe how you treat others - the sympathy and compassion in you is at the level zero, of course, and this attitude has the right to exist, because otherwise you will lose your mind.
Robin waits for the end of the reception time, doesn't refuse herself the pleasure of sitting in the procedure, while you make all the injections - confident and accurately, the hand won't flinch, even if the World War lll starts right now.
Robin gets chills when she watches all this: she's a surgeon, saw a lot of messed up things in her life, but eye operations - thank you, but no, thank you. Robin is capable of everything except contemplation of the process of ophthalmic operations.
The working hours end, and you both return to the examination room, because you complain about the bright light, and in there it is always dim. Today you came to work early, caught the boy from the diagnostics and asked to do an optical tomography for you - you had to pay for the his silence, and not only with a charming smile.
As you expected, the flower shoots caused retinal detachment.
You sit on a chair against the wall, lowering your shoulders, and throw back your head, resting the back of it against the wall - your throat moves heavily and unevenly under your skin. Now, in the dim light of the observation room, Robin sees how much you have changed in recent months.
The skin seems to have thinned, become completely grey, the veins are translucent, and they are so dark. The eyelashes cast almost sepulchral shadows on the cheekbones, and the sleeve of the pullover under the robe rode up, revealing a tightly bandaged wrist. Robin reaches out and takes it, examining - even through the dense layers of fabric the relief of the growing stems is visible.
- Rob, - you suddenly begin to speak, and Robin involuntarily leans forward to not lose a single quiet word. Probably, for once, you stop performing comedy on your improvised stage in a one-person theater.
- You love too, I know. You love Vicky. But I also know that this is a different love.
You don’t pull out your hand - the sprouts that are growing under the skin are tightly bandaged, and Robin isn't able to touch them. The more layers, the safer.
- I have different kind of love for him. You know, when I got a job here, one of the first patients I came across was a difficult one, a young girl. I didn’t cure her, it was a difficult case, but the situation somehow got better, under control. And she’s been coming to me to check her eyes for three years now — every single week. She's scared and at the slightest thing she comes straight to me for check up.
You smile, chuckle, and close your eyes.
- I’m not angry with her - it’s hard not to be afraid when you already have only one eye left. And then recently she started coming every other day, we treated her allergies. And she, apparently, is worried that she’s bothering me, and she apologized for this yesterday, and then she says so, fake cheerfully, “Doctor, I’m your cross, accept me as it is.”
Robin feels like she's about to cry. Every person has their own drama.
- And I accept it, - you say and smile - your throat, scratched from the inside, aches, and the words sound barely audible. - Just like I accept this love for Steve. I often get angry about this, I often think it would be better if I had never fallen in love, I often straight up hate him because I'm already so tired of being sick. I mean, I’m just really fucking tired of it, no bullshit. But I love this love because it makes me me.
You rub your tired, reddened eyes, reach for the shelf with medicines to drop more ophthalmoferon.
- I never thought I was capable of this. To feel like this, to love like this. That's what it's like. That's what Taylor Swift sang about. That's why they lost their minds and fought the wars.
What Taylor Swift sings about love is the last thing Robin thinks about when her friend is choking on the lilies.
- The good thing about the situation is that it gives you a choice, - you say, putting your hand on Robin’s shoulder, squeezing your fingers, encouraging. You support her as if it shouldn’t be the other way around. - And I chose. Chose to be myself.
And you don’t look unhappy at all now, except that same yearning is frozen in your eyes, but you have gotten used to that too. It is there fused with the iris with adhesions and vessels, it has made its way under the edges of the retina with green stems.
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- Steve, I understand that you’re nervous, but that won’t make me shit you a magical pill, - Jonathan is obviously annoyed, and Steve can hear it even over the phone. - Your screams don’t help much with our work, you know. You are a member of the group just like me, and you know no more no less, than me.
Steve sighs heavily and looks out of the window to check the road - you have a day off today, but you don't answer his calls, and this makes him nervous.
Nancy, of course, grimaced when Steve, instead of spending the day with her, got into the car and rushed to "some friend".
Her wording made Steve so pissed that he chose not to continue the conversation.
- Fuck, I’m sorry, dude, - he said reluctantly. - It’s just that I’m here with my family for a couple of months anyway, I won’t be able fly to Germany now, so I feel like I’m missing out on everything.
And it seems that the last thing he means by saying this is working on therapy.
- There are no other options now, - Jonathan repeats for the hundredth time, and Steve stops the car at your house. - Either surgery, or you know. No one has yet come up with a better interferon than reciprocity.
"And sometimes it seems there will be no other cure at all" - the words hang unspoken in the air.
You open the door after Steve ringed the bell three times, disheveled, sleepy and desperately yawning - and stare at pissed Steve as he squeezes into the apartment.
- I'm not even gonna ask what the fuck, y/n.
- I was sleeping, - you answer, and then your face lights up with understaning. - What, did you think I died? In your dreams!
Steve barely restrains himself from shaking you angerly by the shoulders, but to see you smiling like this means to forgive everything in the world, including Steve's fucked-up nerves. Since that evening, you see each other, if not every day, then often enough for Steve to understand what is happening to you, and even though his observations don’t exactly please him, the relationship between you becomes almost the same as before.
During these long and short meetings, you stubbornly don't say anything about your condition, although Steve has enough experience to understand for himself how serious everything is - you ignore all questions. And even now, having scared the crap out of Steve, you quite calmly go to prepare breakfast. Steve, sitting on a chair, watches you incessantly, and you eventually can't stand it.
- What, are you eating yourself alive now?
- I am, - agrees Steve, shrugging his shoulders, - Are you?
- I’m not, - you answer and, turning around, suddenly extend your hand to Steve, and when he takes it, you come closer and look seriously, as if cutting him open with your eyes. - Steve, no one is to blame for this. Everything is fair. I didn't want to fall in love with you, but i did it anyway. And you didn’t want to hurt me, but you did it anyway. It’s not your fault that I fell in love with you, and it’s not my fault that I don’t want to turn into a plant after the operation.
Fuck, what a pun.
- I regret I didn’t have enough brain to talk to you back then, - Steve freezes when you very carefully touch his eyelids, slightly faded light eyelashes, and the thin skin under his eyes with your fingertips. - Maybe something would have turned out differently.
- No, - you simply answer. - It wouldn’t have. I'm a fatalist, Steve. It is what it is. There is a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them. By the way, your eyelid is inflamed, might be the stye.
Steve is completely lost for a second, and then he laughs loudly, honestly, throwing his head back - as only he can; and you smile too, even if you don’t understand what he finds so funny.
- You’re still the same, - he says, laughing. - The most unexpected person on Earth.
Steve is fooling around as if you both are twenty-two again, you are not throwing up huge lilies, and you two are just skipping physical education to prepare for microbiology. No one kissed anyone, no one pushed anyone away, no one abandoned anyone; no one loved anyone...
Steve interferes you with doing breakfast, steals muffins from the refrigerator and smears himself with them, stuffing his mouth full and constantly getting in your way - you curse, drop the spatula, kick him out of the kitchen, to which you receive only laughter in response. And you can't help but smile, forgetting about everything that ultimately brought you two closer again. It’s just that Steve is here now, and you feel a little bit better.
Steve looks at you, catches every smile and every gesture - and thinks that since then, his feels towards you hasn't changed at all. This is the same honest admiration for you - from your smile to your fingertips - absolutely everything you say and do;
- I missed you so fucking much, - he whispers and doesn’t even understand why he’s pulling you closer to him, but he doesn’t even think about holding back. - Shhh, don’t twitch, I’m just sniffing the hair. It smells nice.
Yeah, like fucking lilies.
You let yourself go, allowing yourself to forget about everything - and reach out to Steve, without resisting your desires, emotions, your cross; the flowers inside open up, rustling with huge white petals, filling your chest - it feels like flower smell comes from your lips instead of breathing. And for once it doesn't hurt.
You talk about everything and nothing again, like before, drink tea and you, sitting on the window sill of the balcony, press your shoulder close to Steve, not because it’s cold, but because you want to.
Steve laughs at every joke you say, typically a doctor's ones. You laugh because he does, rest your forehead on his shoulder, and your shoulders shake with laughter.
Steve hugs them with one hand, squeezes his fingers on your waist.
- We can have sex, if you want? - Steve either goes all in or is a complete idiot.
You feel so good right now that you don’t even think about these words and motives, and there’s a smile in your eyes when you playfully bite your lip - you have nothing to lose. A biblical garden blooms inside you, and your mouth in the morning is not filled with oral sex, but with huge snow-white buds.
- Not now, - you laugh, throwing back your head and exposing your neck, and it should be kissed all over, bitten, licked along every veins, and Steve thinks he’s going crazy. - It will be the most fucked up moment in my life if flowers will come out of my pussy.
It’s like Steve is twenty-two again, and he is crazy about you – from your fingertips to the stupidest of jokes.
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When Steve has to fly away for two weeks, his insides clench with irrational panic, and he calms himself only by thinking that they have a trial radiotherapy test scheduled. He first demands, then asks and - in the end - begs you not to ignore his calls and messages, and in the end simply asks Robin to be in touch with him.
She is still trying to resist that it's your right not to answer if you don't want to, but Steve starts yelling. And when Steve yells, any arguments stop working.
However, you answer him every day, and Steve holds his breath every time he sends a message.
"How are you?"
In each such question there is more honesty than in the mile-long messages that Nancy demands from him. Steve grinds his teeth, aggressively typing answers for her, while he checks his WhatsApp every minute and doesn’t see himself from the outside when he gets another selfie from you from work - your crooked grin against the backdrop of some bloody post-operative rags. His face cracks with a smile so much that Jonathan pushes him on the shoulder - put yourself together, dude.
Only now, having found you in his life again, Steve realizes how much he missed you. And he can't believe that all this is happening to you two, this whole stupid fairy tale; and if you hadn’t covered your mouth with your palms in an attempt to hold back the flowers bursting out, risking suffocation, Steve would have laughed.
He would have laughed that this is not about you, that it’s not happening to both of you, that you’re kidding, there are no fucking daffodils.
- Lilies! - you bark into the phone when Steve, having mixed up time zones, calls you in the middle of the night. - Is it really that hard to remember?
As long as you answer him, everything is fine, and Steve tries not to think that one day you may not answer not because you try to piss him off by ignoring him.
After one of the working days, you come to Robin’s department and say you took a sick leave - and conceal the fact that you had an attack today right during the patient check up, and you barely managed to give an injection with trembling fingers, almost piercing the patient’s cornea. Robin understands everything without words, because you continually scratch your itchy wrists and wheeze with a hoarse throat. You can't put patients at risk.
But you take pen and paper and write your love story in the article “Pathological changes in the retina of the eye in the extreme stages of the flower virus.” And every now and then you begin to take an article to Robin for editing, because you are also a graphomaniac - if inspiration suddenly comes, you write non-stop, but are too lazy to re-read it.
You again plunge into science headlong, describing yourself from the reflection in the mirror and white sheets of paper with the results of ultrasound, biomicroscopy and optical tomography - there tiny green stems make their way through the tissue. You smile, looking at the studies, trying to understand the techniques of possible operations that you, of course, won't make on yourself. This takes up almost all of your free time, and you come to Robin with a heap of papers and a burning gaze, as if you weren't the one getting paler every day - and sleeping less and less, because you were choking with an annoying cough.
- Y/n, - Steve calls again in the middle of the night, but you are not sleeping. You smile, watching Steve almost poke his nose on the screen, trying to take a closer look at you. - Y/n, radiotherapy gives the first results on infected cells.
You don’t even listen to him - yes, of course, all of this is very important, but not for a person who already has more flowers in her body than blood, who almost has flowers instead of blood flowing through her veins. It's autumn outside, cold November, and you think this is the most suitable month to turn into a biblical garden in your bed.
- Steve, - you whisper, interrupting, don’t listen to Steve’s explanation. - Steve, will you come back soon?
He falls silent, looking at the screen strangely - as if he wants to reach out, to touch, but the fucking technology will not let do that soon, if ever. Steve would give any money in the world right now just to teleport to your room in one second. He chuckles silently, thinking what a fool he was for wasting so much time.
Although how would he have understood anything, if you hadn’t been taken away from him now, torn from his hands?
- Soon, - he answers quietly. - I'll be back soon.
- I'll be waiting.
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Steve fights with Nancy, when in the heat of the moment she shouts something about you and "his stupid friends" - Steve is shaking with anger, and it’s easier to just hastily grab his jacket and get out. He just had arrived and there was already a scandal - and especially on the topic of you, the mention of which makes Steve see red.
Steve doesn’t understand what is happening to him, but desperately doesn’t want to admit it's all because of guilt. Steve can't get enough of you, he wants to eat you, drink you, consume you until he faints, everything’s not enough for him, what has a fucking guilt to do with it?
It was always like this with you.
You are his favorite friend, and your condition is now more important than Nancy's tantrums.
On the threshold Steve silently grabs you in his arms, hugging you tightly, almost until your ribs crack – you wheeze and utter a strangled "Steve, let me go, I'm gonna throw up flowers on you”, flutters weakly and bury your nose into his neck, tickling it with light breath.
- Throw up, - Steve agrees, finally smiling as only he can: wide, infectious, sincere - this smile warms you to the point of burns. - From head to toe, I don't care.
Steve feels such relief seeing you again, even if he feels with his hands almost every protruding bone of your body - now, it seems, you can be broken with any careless gesture. Steve doesn’t explain anything, silently hands you a huge bouquet of multi-colored socks and sits down on an ottoman in the hallway, showing anticipation with all his appearance.
- Sorry, I decided not to buy flowers, you already have plenty of 'em. Now get dressed. Let's go for a walk.
Steve watches you pull on a huge sweater, pants torn at the knees, and spend a long time spinning in front of the mirror. Then you hide in the bathroom, swallow some pills and come out, almost up to your ears in a scarf. Steve distantly thinks that you are still somehow incredibly pretty - even with those dark shadows under your eyes.
Steve puts you in the car in the front seat, chats incessantly, doesn't explain where you are going - he only stops by for coffee for you two.
Steve himself doesn’t know where he’s going, just wants to get some distraction, out of town, to breathe in the fresh evening air, because you keep opening the window to take a deep breath. You are suffocating, even if you try not to show it, and your eyes itch, they itch so much, you want to take them out and insert new ones.
- I have a guitar there, in the trunk, - Steve says suddenly, when you drive a couple of miles from the city. - Come on. Like at the university?
- You still remember how to play? - you snort, looking at him funny.
- Muscle memory.
And Steve really still knows how to play. You leave the highway along the edge of some field that goes down to a small river. Steve takes out a guitar and a blanket for you from the trunk, and both of you sit down on a fallen tree.
Steve plays a very simple melody, and you finish your coffee and wrap yourself in a blanket like a caterpillar - just about to turn into a butterfly. You can finally breathe easier: either with help of the evening air away from the city, or with Steve very close to you, shoulder to shoulder.
At the university you all loved to spend the evenings before exams like this - with a guitar and cider; that time there were no white doctor's coats, operating gloves, fucking flowers and broken hearts. Robin is smart, Robin is a surgeon, she says there are no broken hearts, there can be all sorts of pathologies, defects and insufficiencies, but not cracks, and you must understand this - you are also a doctor after all.
- I’m an eye doctor, this is different, - you say out loud to your thoughts - completely by accident. - Microsurgeon. Which means I might have broken heart.
Steve looks up at you, never ceasing to pluck the strings with his fingers.
- Robin says so, - you explain. - Like, you can’t have a broken heart, it’s all nonsense, you are a doctor! And I assert there can’t be hearts in the eyes, because it’s fucking impossible. In the eyes only the sclera, cornea, iris and pupil are visible - and the limbus, if you look closely. But a broken heart is different.
Steve’s fingers, trembling, break from the string, and the sound turns out so thin, hysterical, it freezes in the air, like unspoken words. You argue as if not noticing him, as if you're generally alone in the world - a lone actress on stage, the amphitheater is empty. You say something, but Steve doesn’t hear you, all the sounds are in the background around him, ordinary and insignificant - the only important thing is that Steve focuses his gaze on you, on your slightly chapped lips, saying something and for the first time formalizes your thoughts into desire.
Steve reaches out to you over the guitar, his fingers slip again almost to the scratches, and he catches your lips with his own - an awkward, desperate kiss, as if miles separate you, and not just one old guitar. Your lips are dry, and your eyes are wide open - the guitar cracks somewhere under your elbow, the old wood breaks, and you both somehow awkwardly fall on top of it and each other.
And then Steve kisses you more slowly, more consciously, holding your chin with his fingers - it seems to you that every second stretches into eternity, and in each of these eternities you are ready to die, turning into a blooming garden.
Or into a flowerbed.
- Too bad the guitar got broken, - Steve's quiet voice is heard near your ear, and a smile can be discerned in this voice. - But that’s not the most important thing, is it?
You close your heavy eyelids, squeeze his fingers in yours, and this gesture contains everything: longing, stupid one-sided love, gratitude, reluctance to let go and reluctance to leave - for the first time ever and only for a second.
You will never regret your choice, because you chose to be yourself.
- The most important thing is that, - you whisper barely audible.
we are free.
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You love November, because in this month everything around freezes - the world itself, sounds disappear, as if in a vacuum, and everything around dies in order to be born again. No, it’s not like you believe in reincarnation and life after death, you are a doctor after all and this has long left an indelible imprint on your understanding of reality. But a broken heart won’t heal itself, and there can’t be hearts in the eyes, because that’s fucking impossible.
A broken heart is something else.
- Robin, we live in a world where people throw up flowers out of love, what realism are you talking about! - you shout, flapping your arms like wings, and this movement causes leaves to fall from a yellow oak branch. You shouldn't have gone out for lunch.
Every morning you wake up from lack of oxygen, hanging over the edge of the bed and coughing up huge white lilies. The irises against the background of bloodshot eyes seem a thousand times brighter and crazier, and tears no longer moisturize - they, too, now always contain tiny petals and seeds.
It’s November outside, every breath feels like a cut of the knife, and a better interferon than love has not yet been invented. And it would at least be fine - if any love.
And your love stands opposite you, wrapped in a stupid puffy jacket, and strokes your sunken cheeks, with his palms.
- Y/n, how are you?
- Bad, - you answer for the first time in all this time, and your lips barely obey. You cling to Steve’s hands with your fingers, stiff from the cold, hide your palms in his pockets and sighs quietly, holding back annoying cough.
– Did you see the crow? - you suddenly say, looking somewhere over his shoulder. – Crows are amazing. If I were a crow, I would also find some cool lighting fixtures on nine-story buildings and sit there like they do.
Steve thinks that in your head there is not just different world, but several universes exist and collide with each other, exploding and mixing, in order to eventually come up with bullshit about the crow.
Steve doesn't think when he pulls you towards him and kisses you, feeling the flowery taste of small smooth petals on his tongue as he catches them with his lips.
- Steve, - you whisper hoarsely, but no longer push him away. - Flowers.
Steve so doesn’t care that he just smiles strangely and strokes the thin skin under the lower eyelids, where the shadows are so big and dark that they like the night can cover entire cities.
- Y/n, - he says, and it’s already the end of November. - Just wait for me, okay?
And you will wait.
At least as long as you can.
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starryeyedjanai · 3 months
Text
bad boys do it better
rated: teen | @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: modern au tags: dating apps, innuendo, bad flirting read on ao3
Eddie finally opens Tinder after downloading it in a fit of desperation.
He's tried everything but these stupid apps—bars and clubs and pottery classes and rock climbing—trying to find someone he can connect with.
But he's mostly found guys that string him along with whispered sweet nothings and half-promises they don't intend to follow through on.
So he makes his profile and then promptly fumbles and drops his phone because— no fucking way.
There's no way this is real life.
There's no fucking way the first guy to pop up is Steve fucking Harrington, his unfortunate and longest lasting crush in high school.
He picks up his phone and sees Steve's face staring back at him, unassuming, a bright, cheery smile on his face.
Steve, 28 2 miles away "Hope you like bad boys because I have it on dvd and vhs" Interests: baseball, basketball, live music, movies
He taps to get to the next photo and lets out a shaky breath—the shorts of what can only be his Halloween costume are so short, exposing hairy thighs that Eddie wants to sink his teeth into.
The next photo is a snapchat picture of him grinning wide, cradling what might be the world's ugliest dog, the text across the screen reading my nephew is so handsome 🤩🤩🤩.
The last is an obligatory shirtless mirror pic, not showing off washboard abs, but the soft, toned skin of his stomach.
He closes the app, sets his phone down, and breathes through his nose.
This can't be real, right? In what world would Steve be the first person in a sea of profiles in San Francisco of all places?
Eddie expected him to chase after Nancy Wheeler when she went to Boston, but he didn't stick around long enough in Hawkins to find out if they ever rekindled their will-they-won't-they relationship.
Maybe he's just visiting. Maybe he found his match and just forgot to delete Tinder. Because there's just no way Eddie has this kind of luck.
He opens up Instagram and searches for Steve and finds him right away because they're probably still Facebook friends.
He scrolls through his profile and deflates a little, because all of the pictures on Tinder are from his Instagram. Which means it's probably much more likely that someone is catfishing using Steve's pictures.
Because the Steve from high school wasn't into men. And he's hot enough for someone to use his pictures to scam people or whatever.
He opens up Tinder again and his thumb is swiping right before he thinks about what he's doing.
It's a match!
Okay, now he knows it's a catfish. Or maybe it's a bot.
There's no world in which Steve Harrington would swipe right on him in the twenty minutes it's been since he created his account.
He types a message to "Steve" saying so are you a bot or just a catfish?
He doesn't get a response right away, so he clicks out of the messages, looking at profiles of what are hopefully actual people he can connect with.
His phone buzzes when the message from Steve comes in.
Hi3 Eddiems, cl!ck th3 linkin my proffile to . achat I am waitin9
He rolls his eyes and goes back to perusing profiles. It's not like he thought it was really Ste-
His phone pings with another message and he clicks back into the chat immediately.
That was a joke. There's not even a link in my profile
Eddie's heart beats a little faster, his fingers typing out a response.
So a catfish then?
Why do you think I'm a catfish?????
Because I know the guy in those pictures and there's no way hes into men. That guy was a jock extraordinaire in high school and very straight
You're awfully judgey for someone who was so anti-conformity in high school. Whos to say I haven't changed?
Or like, learned new things about myself?
Eddie's breath stutters in his throat.
Also you didn't really know me since we never talked.
Okay, I mean. It's pretty easy to guess that I was counterculture in high school by looking at me. So I'm still on the fence about the catfish thing
How about we meet up then? So you can see me in all my nearing-30 glory
And watch bad boys on dvd and vhs with you?
Dude, I am not inviting you to my house on the first date
That's a third date kind of thing
Oh yeah? Is it a back-to-back feature? We start with the vhs then move to dvd?
He can't believe he's entertaining this. A catfish wouldn't offer to meet up unless they thought Eddie wouldn't call their bluff. He kind of wants to see where this is going.
No see, we start with the dvd playing in the living room and then when we inevitably start being bad boys🥵 in the middle of the movie, we can pick it back up on vhs in my room later
To be clear, we stop the movie, right? I'm not sure bad boys has a soundtrack meant for the kind of activities we'd be doing
Oh for sure. I'd even put on my "let's get it on" playlist. As a treat.
Eddie can't help but grin. Even if this guy is a catfish, this is maybe the most fun he's had talking to someone in a long time.
Are you serious about meeting up?
Uh yeah, I can't have you thinking I'm a catfish forever
What's your favorite brewery?
Cellarmaker
Wanna do tomorrow afternoon at like 2 when it's not busy?
That sounds perfect
He isn't sure if it's really Steve or if he's going to be met with someone else or stood up, but at least he'll get to drown his sorrows if it doesn't work out.
Well—he's unsure until he gets the 'stharrington started following you' notification on Instagram a few minutes later.
He screams into his pillow so loud his neighbor thumps on the wall.
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johnnycakesb14de · 2 months
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the outsiders with a reader who is very extroverted? i feel like i always see like shy s/o or something but never someone who actually likes talking 😭😭!!
YESSS FINALLY MY KIND OF PEOPLE!! #extravorted and proud
THE OUTSIDERS X A EXTROVERTED READER
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DARRY
He'd love a extravorted reader
Like he wouldn't be soooo crazy about it but it's one of your traits he loves
Like I don't see him being a super extroverted or social
But he isn't anti social???
So y'all would be good for each other
He'd also like it because you could talk to the gang you know?
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Y'all are literally the same
He's outgoing and so are you so it works out perfectly
He talks to people at the DX and you talk to people wherever you work !!(if you do)
He'd probably very much prefer a extravorted S/O because that's just how he is as a person
He loves people who just like to talk and aren't afraid to talk
Steve probably gets annoyed with y'all yapping all day
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PONYBOY
He isn't extravorted really so you know guys work out nice
Your giggling with everyone and he's just sitting next to you watching how happy you are
He does get a little jealous though when your walking at school and people keep going
"hey Y/N!" Because you talk to everyone
But it's not because he's jealous that your talking to other people he just isn't that type of jealous
He just wants to finish talking about the book he read or what happened when him Dally and Johnny were out the night before
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BEST COUPLE DYNAMIC FOR HIM OMG
I see a lot of people say he'd be best with a shy reader but I feel like he needs a extravorted S/O
Like he'd adore how you just so easily you talked and didn't get scared or just listen to the conversation
You would most definitely even each other out too
Like you make him actually talk ...sometimes
And when y'all are alone he would talk a lot with you but you'd still talk more because he just lovessss your voice
Long story short, Johnny Cade NEEDS a extroverted S/O
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BRO IS NOT EXTROVERTED HE JUST IS NOT SCARED OF ANYTHING
Would prefer not to talk though (unless with the gang, Tim Shepard, and you obviously)
He definitely makes fun of you for it
"Do you ever stfu? Like genuine question."
But he does enjoy listening to your rambles about things and stuff
Would have you talk to store employees so he can steal things
If you have a charm to you then he would probably try to get you to sweet talk the police so they let him not go to jail
Never works obviously
Gets really jealous though
Like if your talking to Tim for too long (5 minutes or longer) he'll get pissy about it
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Wouldn't care tbh
Like he listens to your rambles or just talk
It just doesn't faze him
Why?
Mr Sodapop Patrick Curtis is why
He'd be used to the extravorted sunny type of person
It's nothing new so he just automatically goes for people like that and just doesn't notice
He just prefers extravorted people and doesn't realize it
I don't make the rules 🤷🏻
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YESS YESS YESSSS
See the thing is social anxiety is afraid of him like he is the definition of that saying or phrase yk
Literally y'all are like so funny together like always laughing and making other people laugh
Y'all would be at bucks and just yap to the other people there
Hed really love a extravorted reader
Just don't interfere with Mickey
It will get messy
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thestobingirlie · 5 months
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i don't ship stancy, im mostly indifferent to it, but i really don't get the lengths some anti-stancies, nancy stans (especially the ones that are massively anti steve), or r*nance shippers go to to discredit the stuff that happened in s4
"theyve been broken up for years" theyve been broken up for less than 18 months. Early November 84- late march 86 is about 17 months. Less than a year and a half. That's not long enough to qualify for the plural of "years". Saying that they've been broken up for years makes it seem like steve's in his 20s or 30s and is still pining over 'the one that got away' from high school. not a teenager that still has feelings for someone he's been broken up with for less than two years. its implied that nancy was his first 'serious' relationship. and based on what we know of his dating history post s2, his only serious relationship. its not unusual for there to still be some feelings there.
"steve wants to force nancy to have six kids even though she doesn't want kids/ a family." first nancy never said she didn't want kids/ a family, shes said she doesn't want to turn into her parents. steve never said he wanted nancy to birth six kids for him. he said he had a dream of having five or six kids and that nancy was there beside him. the number of kids doesn't matter. its him saying that he wants kids and to be a present dad. he wants a family and also doesn't want to turn into his parents, as its heavily implied that he's an only child with not great parents. Nancy said his dream sounded nice other than the six kids part. a more manageable number like maybe three kids could be the balance that would work for them.
"steve tried to get nancy to cheat on Jonathan despite knowing she was happy in their relationship." steve confessed his feelings to her in a life or death situation, after shed been showing some signs of being interested. he never said he wanted her to leave jonathan or that he expected her to just jump into his arms. he said he still had feelings for her in a high stress situation. and much of jancy's relationship in s4 doesn't read as happy. they've been together for 16-17 months, and almost half of that they've been in an ldr and they've had communication issues since before jonathan moved away.
sorry for they longs ask this is just something that's bugging me because i keep seeing this in the steve tag
i truly think so many anti stancies just hate steve, and that’s why all of their “explanations” just try to make steve look bad.
like saying it’s been years since they broke up. it’s been about a year and a half! and like you said, it’s pretty much his only serious relationship. according to joe keery, she’s the first girl to really listen to him. and he hasn’t had someone (romantically) like that since. steve was nancy’s first love (again, according to natalia). it wasn’t just some short thing. it was a serious relationship at a very emotional time.
also, i personally doubt that steve’s spent that year just pining for nancy, but they’re in a life and death situation, and i think all those feelings they left behind just came rushing back. they never truly got closure. it’s natural that being together, and fighting side by side and depending on each other would make everything between them come to the surface.
ugh the six kid thing is the bane of my existence (again, people use it to try to make steve seem weird, and pushy, and demanding). it’s so clearly a reference to the party lmao. like you said, nancy never said she doesn’t want kids, she said she doesn’t want to be stuck in a miserable relationship because that’s what everyone expects (which sounds more like s4 jancy tbh). and the crucial part of steve’s confession is that nancy is the most important part. not the kids. not the travelling. but nancy by his side. what matters to steve is that there’s love. which is what’s important to nancy too.
(and yeah. they ain’t having six kids LMAO)
yes!!! can people not confess feelings anymore without being accused of homewrecking two teenagers lol? he never said he wants them broken up. he thinks he may die!!! he wants it off his chest!!! nancy was, imo, the first to start the flirting, and steve figured… why not!
honestly couldn’t have said this all better myself.
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ladykailitha · 3 months
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Look, considering I've only gotten involved in Stranger Things after season four and therefore haven't been around the fans during other new season filming starts, but my brothers/sisters/nb in fandom what the honest fuck is going on right now?
I have been a part of other fandoms when new seasons started filming and the worst I'd seen was BBC Sherlock. And you lot are behaving worst then they did.
And Jesus fuck, that's a fucking low ass bar.
(Again I am ship and let ship, kinktomato, and headcanon free for all)
But this is just what I've seen in my small deliberately secluded corner of the internet so forgive me if I get some things wrong.
Ronance fans have turned on Steddie fans.
Steddie fans are trying to eat each other over who tops and who bottoms between two horny, barely out of their teens, men.
Eddie is confirmed dead.
Dustin is trying to become Eddie.
People want Will dead because Noah Schnapps said some stupid shit regarding genocide.
And Argyle isn't coming back.
I'm going to give you my feelings on these so buckle up lets go:
1- Steddie and Ronance fans have turned on each other. And I know this because I doom scroll through steddie tag. That Ronance fans think Steddie fans are delusional and that they're going down after season five airs and there will be more Ronance fans because they're perfect for each other.
Where to even begin on this? First, never tell a shipper that their ship is never going to be canon because they don't care. Just ask all the Destiel, johnlock, and merarthur fans. Steddie fans are just going to ignore all but the most salient parts of season 5 if Eddie doesn't come back and write AUs for the rest of their lives. You know, like they have since the last scene on the Piggyback faded to black?
Secondly, I don't think I've seen much Ronance without Steddie. Granted I only read Steddie, but it seems that the two ships are tied pretty heavily together. The fruity four comes to mind. So maybe it's that they're getting tired of being a side ship next to a massive one like Steddie. Who knows. But apparently they're bitter.
And I say that because they keep tagging their anti-Steddie posts as Steddie to make sure we see it. Honestly, I just block them and go about my day. But seriously, I've never understood people's need to be shitty like posting hate on the tag for that thing. If you don't like it, fine. Block and move on.
Thirdly. Lastly. Maybe. I don't like Ronance. I saw the charms when I first joined the fandom and it was cute. Until the more I read and I realized that most of the time they don't bring up that Jonathan is even a person let alone Nancy's current boyfriend. That most of the time Steve is written wildly out of character about not caring that they're a couple and that he just wants them to be happy. Like, one Jonathan is severely under used in the fics I've read. Like Will doesn't have an older brother anymore. It's all Steve or Eddie. Which considering how you like your flavor of queer for Eddie or Steve (gay/pan/bisexual) Will talking to them about being gay makes sense, but Jonathan showed us in the last season that he is going to protect Will no matter what. Then blip! in fanfics, he's gone.
And then the whole Steve being okay with Robin not only dating an ex-girlfriend of his, but the ex. The one he thought he was going to marry. The one he dreamed a whole fucking future on. That was still hurt by two fucking years later. You either think very lowly of Steve or you just don't care. Because if you think Robin and Steve are the same person/share the same braincell/ride or die for life, there is no way even if Nancy threw herself at Robin would she even consider it. (I can write a whole ass post just on this by the way, don't get me started.)
2- This is the most recent bullshittery due to a current event about Sub Eddie. This is the worst discourse in any fandom and the worst offenders on either side tend say the most homophobic shit imaginable.
And it's pointless. Whether you think Steve is a top or bottom, whether you think he's dom or a sub. Same with Eddie. Everyone has their own flavor they prefer and they won't always match up with yours.
Personally I write them whatever feels natural for the story. But here's the major crux of the matter. I don't believe a little nerd in Bumfuck, Indiana has any idea what flagging is. I'm sorry. Left pocket, right pocket. Doesn't matter. The likely of him even knowing what BDSM is is pretty slim. I grew up in a small town. There will be some people that know, but that's because they know adults in the scene.
Don't like, don't read. Seriously, guys. Let people enjoy what they want to.
My personal feelings on the matter is that Steve is a bottom/sub because he deserves to be taken care of and Eddie would absolutely want to be that person for Steve, in and out of the bedroom. Again, you do you, beau.
3- The tombstone. Sigh. It was hard to see that. Not just because it confirms he's dead, but because it's been defaced. Most likely like fans have said, "BURN IN HELL" the poor bastard.
Having a tombstone doesn't necessarily preclude Eddie's return. There are several ways he can still comeback Kas! theory not withstanding. But the wank here is people jumping on Steddie shippers and Eddie fans in general pointing and screaming "see!"
Like we didn't have campaigns for Barb and Bob and (Billy). If someone's favorite character has died, don't be dicks when they want them to be resurrected a la Jim Hopper. Because that right there is the main reason people will still hold out hope until the final scene fades to black, okay?
I guess this one is just be nicer to each other, okay?
4- *sob* like holy fuck. Dustin you sweetheart. The long hair, the torn Hellfire t-shirt, the rings. The horns and sticking out his tongue. That poor boy needs several hugs STAT! And of course, people can't leave well enough alone on Facebook, I couldn't tell you how many of the comments were "steddie fans are going to make this all about them, aren't they?" Even though there wasn't a single comment by a Steddie making it about Steve/Eddie. But so many eye rolls. The other half were death threats against Noah Schnapp.
Which brings me to...
5- Noah Schnapp said some really shitty things about Zionism and the attack on Gaza. There is no escaping that. He said them. He double downed on them. And while yes it sucks he said those things, let's not forget he's still young and stupid. He's barely 18/19 years old. I remember being that age and saying stupid fucked up shit, and hoo boy does this make me grateful I was well into adulthood when the internet became a thing (24ish).
There are a lot of reasons to be upset by his comments and I get that. But death threats and calls for his dismissal/boycotts just seems excessive to me.
One, because the story began with a kidnapped little boy and a runaway little girl. If you get rid of one of them especially this close to the end it would fuck up the story. Now if there was more than one season left, sure. But this is literally the end. And for all we know, Will's character may already be doomed by the narrative. So calling for it now isn't go to do anything. Especially since they already had all the scripts written and would have finished filming if it hadn't been for the strikes.
Two, one person on the cast said something stupid and hurtful and you want to boycott the entire show for it? Like, what did David Harbor, Joe Keery, Maya Hawke, Millie Bobby Brown and all the others do to deserve you boycotting their show? If the last season tanks it could seriously hurt their careers, but hey Noah Schnapp said something bad, so fuck them?
I'm going to stop there, because this is another one I can go on and on about, but yeah. Don't hurt other people in your rush to vilify an 18 year old.
6- Eduardo Franco recently said that he didn't get a call so he didn't think he would be back. He was sure that ship had sailed.
Fans are upset, naturally. Argyle was a sweetheart and deserves better than to be cut from the story like that.
But thanks to the incident with David Harbor and Jim Hopper supposedly being dead, a lot of fans are saying he's only saying that because it's a "secret" he's coming back. Which would make sense for Eddie or any of the other character died. Martin Brenner, for example, but not Argyle. There would be no need for subterfuge. Plus, he would already be out in Georgia if he was coming back.
It's sad that he was done dirty this way, but if they split up the filming like they've done before there is still a chance he might get to come back, but as far as the current filming is concerned, yeah Argyle isn't coming back.
***
Just... be kind to each other. Remember that the other people on the end of the URL is an actual person with feelings. That people can like what they like so if they aren't hurting you, don't hurt them, okay?
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royalty-unknown · 2 years
Text
You. Are. Loved
Cg!Eddie Munson x Cg!Steve Harrington x little!reader
WARNING : angst/fluff, SELF-HARM!, Toxic families, Anti-agere(form parent or gaurdian) ,Poly relationship, Age regression, violence(Slight hitting),Big space *Only for a little* crying, Shaking, slight Aggressiveness from Steve but nothing serious, Mentions of blood, bad grammar, terribly written, mistakes, cursing, partially based on a true story. DON'T LIKE DON'T READ! thank you~
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Hewo! This is my Second story and I’m just want to say this is sfw ONLY and not a kink. It is a coping mechanism used to help in many different ways and is NOT ddlg. Heads up it's kinda longish ngl but this is my second time writing a story so I put much thought into it! Please take note that this is partially based on a true story aka my life. (DISCALAIMER) SELF HARM IS NOT AN AESTHETIC!! 
Half Summary: You didn’t quite know why you self-harmed…Fucking hell. yes you did it was beacause of your family/mom/dad/gardian/etc Constantly body shaming, yelling, controlling, (etc) and most importantly neglecting (at) you so you used Age regression as a way to help you. Your boyfriends Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson were your Caregivers and loved you so much and never judged you. You felt like age regression was really helping you get past the past..That was until your mom/dad/guardian/etc walked in your room as you were trying to shift with your Paci in your mouth and bottle next to you while watching cartoons..She took everything
“M-Mom (/dad/guardian/etc) wait! Give it back!” y/n said “NO What is this bullshit! Your acting like a baby and its Stupid you know God wants us to grow not act like a baby be the big girl you oh so claim to be and figure out your problems like a normal human being and GROW THE FUCK UP!” your mom said yelling and shouting at you which you were sensitive to and throwing the paci and bottle away. you flinched and whimpered. She left and slammed your room door shut. You broke down in tears as you started to pack your stuff, just some clothes and the f/c (Favorite color) stuffie that Eddie and Steve gifted to you after learning about your age regression about 2 years ago. Then you see it..The box that you keep your razor in you set down your f/c (Favorite color) bag with cute fidgets, keychains and things that you can play with which Steve and Eddie also gifted to you as one of your birthday presents.
You opened the box, saw the razor and everythings came back to you, that feeling that never gets old. Eddie and Steve knew about your self harm and you told them you stopped and you did..at the time you told them. You tried to stop but everytime something bad happened you did it. You had been clean for about 2 months now and today you told yourself only 5 cuts…but 5 turned into 10…and 10 turned into 20…. And before you knew it you were at 38…you were crying so much just wishing Steve and Eddie we’re there to stop you..now you felt like your arm was ruined by cuts..you put the razor back into the box and packed it still sobbing. You had no Idea why you still lived with your parents/parents/guardian/etc . You just didn’t when you turned 18 (or age) you could move out but you didn’t in hopes to fix things but no you made everything worse you thought. You grabbed your bag and left getting into your car. You're still sobbing and crying and you started to drive. You didn’t know where you just drove not even noticing that your cuts we’re bleeding badly and needed to be treated soon, you left at 2:22pm and didn’t stop driving until about 10:22pm your walkie was in the passenger seat eddie and steve decorated it for you it was f/c (Favorite color) with f/t (favorite things) type stickers it buzzed and then you heard steve's voice “Y/n?? Y/n come in! Where are you?” You thought about not picking it up but that would just cause them to worry more “Y/N/? Baby are you ok??” Eddie said you slowly picked it up hesitantly but still you pressed that button now there was no going back “y-yes..” you said weakly with a slight crack in your voice. “Baby! Oh god! Where are you? It's been 3 days!” Steve said then it hit you..You 're driving for three days straight, you 're thinking too much. You looked at your arm and saw a lot of dried up blood  “Sweetheart!” Eddie called “y-yes s-sorry um…” You looked around to see that you weren't far from Steve's house “I-I actually am heading to steve’s house..” you said as you drove there “No. No. Well yes come here but tell us where you have been and where you are now.” Steve said it in a tone that scared you slightly. You put the walkie down and drove to Steve's house ignoring the questions from Dustin, Nancy, Steve, Eddie and Max as well. About 1 hour later when you were at Steve's house you grabbed your bag and opened the car door shutting and locking it then walking up to his door putting your sleeve down so they didn’t see the cuts. You opened  the door to see a Steve whose head was in his hands slightly in his hair while his leg was bouncing up and down and a Eddie who was mumbling things about you and pacing back and forth they,turned their heads to the door because it opened and saw you.
Their eyes widened and they ran up to you and hugged you “Where were you y/n??” Steve said “We were worried sick” Eddie added on. It took you a moment to reply but you shrugged and just walked up to Steve's room causing them to let go and follow you “Hey! Answer me!” Steve said, grabbing your arm slightly raising his voice..You flinched and tears fell out of your eye’s..not only because he yelled but because he was grabbing your arm too tight..the same arm you cut “O-Owie!” You said starting to shift into little space “Let Go!” You said snatching your arm back but his grip only got tighter causing you to let out a quiet sob and tried to hit his chest as hard as you can over and over but the punches only came out as soft little hits (The same exact thing that mike did to hopper when mike found out hopper was hiding el) “Y-”steve started trying to stop and hug you Hit “H-Hey” Eddie stepped in and held you from behind wrapping his arms around you waist but you hit him saying “Lwet! gwo!” hitting him again the punches became softer and softer until you're just bawling your eyes and heart out into Eddie’s chest. Steve let go of your wrist and hugged you not knowing exactly what to do, eddie picked you up rocking you and gently shushing you he himself didn’t know what to do but he just thought this was the best Idea you sobs tuned into cries which turned into whimpers which turned into sniffles which turned into soft snores Steve got out your f/c (Favorite color) pj’s and made a bath while eddie laid you down slowly taking off your bottoms as to not wake you up he did the same with the shirts and undergarments and it wasn’t until he picked you up and brought you to the tub that he noticed..the cuts..”s-steve” he whispered “hm?-'' he stopped when he came in and saw your arm “baby…” he walked to you and gently picked up your arm so as to not wake you up and closed his eyes with some tears falling and sighed. “I’ll get the first aid kit..” Eddie said wiping his eyes to avoid tears but they still left his eyes. After 20 mins you were washed up and your scars were wrapped and treated. Steve picked you up and wrapped you in your f/c (Favorite color) towel and took you to the bed lotioning you (Etc) and putting on your pj’s (For my black girl audience like me or just audience that wraps their hair up if there’s any they did wrap your hair up scarf/bonnet etc) and laid you down putting a paci in your mouth and your bottle with water in it on the nightstand next to you. They got in the bed on each side of you, kissed your forehead, put their foreheads together, hugged each other then kissed each other's forehead saying good night, laying down and going to sleep. 
10am You woke up, Not sure where you were and not remembering anything you rubbed the sleepiness out of your eyes and realized you were in your boyfriend(s) home in his bed alone and you had your pj’s on, paci in your mouth and your arms were wrapped. You started to panic they find out about you cutting before you could get too deep in thought the door opened to reveal your two lovely boyfriends with f/p/b/f (Favorite pancakes/ breakfast food) and eddie with your bottle filled with milk “Morning little one” Steve said “Morning bubba” Eddie said “M-Mornwing daddies” you said looking into your lap playing with the bandages not sure if they were still upset about the cutting “Sweetheart look at me” Eddie said setting the bottle on the nightstand and sitting on the bed and grabbing your arms and folding them so your hand was over your cuts on each arm “No.” you unfolded your arms confused and he folded them again “No.” Eddie said you unfolded them getting that he’s saying no to you cutting and he folded them again “No.” Eddie said grabbing in between your folded arms holding them together “Talk to us..we are here we love you and you and us both know that this is not helping.” Steve said, setting down the tray of food. You were sobbing Eddie pulled you onto his lap and hugged you, Steve softly sushing you and Eddie holding you close to and rocking you. Once you stopped crying they sat you down and each wiped each eye “Talk to us baby..What made you do this to your pretty arms?..” Steve said, taking off the bandages. You let everything out and told them everything from your family/mom/dad/guardian/etc being toxic to your mom/dad/guardian/etc throwing away your paci and bottle. They were furious by the time you finished talking. “Live here.” Steve said “h-huh-” “Live here. So this can stop. we can stand seeing you struggle like this little one” steve said “We will talk to you about it when your big again but until then~” Eddie started planting kisses all over your face while steve kissed over top of your cuts causing you to let out giggles and laughs “Your pretty” Eddie said in between kisses “Your worth it” Steve said in between kisses and more compliments and kisses just kept coming until you heard “You. Are. Loved.” Eddie said, `` Which made you smile as your lip quivered “You hear us little one? You. Are Loved No matter what. So promise us you will talk to us when you're sad or you feel like you want to hurt yourself again. Please..” Steve added on it took you a second but you said it “I prwomise daddys.” they smiled “Thank you princess” Steve said “Thank you sweetheart” Eddie said “I’s wuv chu daddas” you said “We love you too little one” They said sitting up steve wrapping your arm up and eddie Cutting up your b/f (Breakfast food) into smaller pieces so you don't choke and once steve was done you 3 ended up eating, cuddling, and watching cartoons all day.
 <3
Word Count: 2092
Hi guys this was my second story please let me know your thoughts and opinions but in a respectful manner! I know that this was somewhat scrambled-ish, rushed,and depressing. But hopefully this is good and not too bad! And again I will hope to improve as I go and continue writing stories! But anyways hope your drinking 1-4 water bottles/cups of water and eating at least 1-2 meals a day! Until the next one my lovely Victims~
Your Friendly Neighborhood,     
  ☢Killer Bunny☢
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stranger-rants · 1 year
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I love Eddie, I really do but all these anti Billy who put Eddie up on a pedestal, really makes me now want a Harringrove where Eddie is the bad guy. Cuz I feel like the fandom doesn't talk enough about how what Eddie did to Lucas would be so scarring. Eddie turned his friends against him over DND, like at 15 that would mess me up. So like imagine Billy trying to be less of ass and hanging out with the kids more (Steve and those kids are attached at the hip wtf) Billy and Lucas get along pretty well, I like the head canon that Billy gives Lucas basketball tips. Maybe Lucas is too embarrassed to tell Steve but he ends up telling Billy about how Eddie isn't going to change DND night so now none of his friends are coming to watch his game and even replaced him with his sister. Billy is livid. Billy is still very much an asshole and he's going to use that. (He's not going to throw the first punch tho we all know that's Steve, that boy can't win a fight but fuck does he start them.)
I don't think making either the villain solves the problem or makes it more fair, but I'm fine with reading about either of these characters being antagonistic.
I think that's different from a character being a villain, because it's a less permanent state of being that could be resolved more easily while confronting a character's flaws.
Like, I would love to see Billy confront his biases and properly apologize to Lucas through actions such as helping him out. I would also love to see Eddie taken down a peg from his elitist behavior.
I also think it would be funny for Eddie and Billy to be antagonistic towards each other, because they're both so annoying but in very different ways. They should drive each other crazy for fun.
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phoenixwrites · 8 months
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I looked into some of their posts because I wanted to see the full info on both sides. I wanted to reach out to say they are really just something else. First, please know they are searching deep into your blog for your selfies and info that they can find, while who find one DID color over your face .... it's uncomfortable the territory they are on the fencing of. Stay safe. Second, I had a good cry as a csa and in general survivor too, because this is appalling, it's so freaking horrifying how YOU could be considered the same realm... they reblogged a PSA about someone else in ST fandom who writes genuine CSA like 6 year old x 20 year old Eddie, 12 year old x grown ass Steve and Billy, so on and not even all ST, but all is smut. A commenter was saying that they were going to write smut about a 12 month old. I wish I was joking or being dramatic. The someone claims they are writing it for their own trauma, but it really does not read from the screenshots of fic as such (vs how your posts seem missing context) I feel sick from seeing THAT callout post contents, THAT chilled me. I don't fucking know how you could be considered of the same cut like that kind of person ??? All over older Erica x Dustin ??? Like WHY deliberately take your asks and responses out of context, why are you evil for thinking about the characters grown, nothing to do with the actors? Yet they write self insert smut about teenaged Billy, Steve, so on. Include gifs of showering Billy. They seem hellbent on focusing on everything else, or maybe a personal projecting since they can't separate actor from character almost. Hell, even the camp counsellor Eddie x younger camper Chrissy fic they were blasting you for reading is different than freaking that someone's fics. This entire thing reads like a personal vendetta finding any morsel and making into some abomination. I'm so sorry you are dealing with this bullshit. Protect your peace and yourself from this insanity. Lots of love to you. This is long as crap so you don't have publish it, but I just felt like you deserved to know what was being said and compared.
Hi there! Thanks for your message. Seriously, guys, the support has been amazing and I can’t express how much I appreciate it.
I nosed through last night for a little bit but I think the benefit of my social media being very open over the years is…there’s not really much to find. I am far more boring than antis believe. Even my Erica fics will be particularly disappointing to those who are looking for ThoughtCrime—they are probably the tamest thing I’ve ever written. I will try to implement measures in case someone doxxes me or something.
I’m so sorry for you. I’m so sorry that you’re in this shitty club with me. I would not wish the flashbacks, the dehumanization, the guilt, the shame, the triggers, or the nightmares on anyone. The accusations they make about me are genuinely nauseating.
I’m not familiar with the other writer’s callout post you mentioned, but even if they are writing disturbing dead doves—we don’t know them. We don’t know why they wrote it, I don’t know their situation, I don’t know their reasoning, hell, it might all be out of spite. But I don’t want to “ugh look at this OTHER writer writing this gross stuff, YOU could NEVER be considered one of THEM”, you know?
I am not going to condemn a dead dove writer just because that is something I would never read. It’s words on a page. No one is harmed. As viscerally chilling and disturbing those plots are, they exist in the author’s brain. I don’t know WHY they exist in the author’s brain, if they’re processing their own shit or genuinely trying to titillate. I don’t really want to know either way. Either way is triggering to me. Either way, that is content that would make me throw up and I would avoid.
So I do the fucking ADULT thing and block those fics. Or ignore them. Ignoring them is a great tactic. Because I don’t know the author’s story and I would never try and assume that I do. I protect my own peace.
Another example. I have a weird trigger. It’s a trigger that is innocuous and harmless to most people. Some people really love the trigger. But I cannot abide it. I start having flashbacks. Anxiety attacks. Even just by SEEING this piece of media. And I feel a ton of shame for it because I blame myself, when actually it was my abuser’s fault. Not me. Not you. Never the victim. Ever.
But I do not expect tumblr to CATER to my trigger. I have this piece of media blocked on every social media site. I intentionally avoid it. My brother has even refused to accompany his friends on a Disneyworld trip because they were cosplaying as the Trigger and he didn’t want to trigger me. My community knows of it and they try very hard to use spoiler tags or ask others to spoiler it so I don’t interact with it. If I come on it accidentally (happened a lot during Philly, many breathing exercises were done and I had to step out a few times from the Artist’s Alley)
This is all MY responsibility. Not Tumblr’s. I cannot demand that every fic writer who writes about the Piece of Media that is a Trigger take it down for my own comfort, just because I am rightly and justly disturbed by it.
Oh, it is DEFINITELY a personal vendetta. Comes with the territory of any outspoken woman in fandom.
Your guys’ support means everything to me. And to all writers.
I’m sorry if this came off preachy or lecturing, I didn’t mean it that way. I just really, REALLY do not want people taking the mentality of “Phoenix isn’t writing this shit, but OTHER writers are, so let’s go harass them!” No.
Leave the dead dove writers alone. Leave all writers alone. If you do not like something, don’t read it, block the author, mute the tag, do whatever you can to protect your peace.
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imhidingonceagain · 2 years
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I'm gonna say something very controversial about the Steddie shippers/community, but before you cancel me please just read what I have to say:
I need to start clarifying that I myself enjoy and ship Steve and Eddie. I enjoy their edits, fanart and fanfiction (I have one work written about them actually). I know that the Duffers weren't expecting them to blow up but I myself believe that they're two characters that have SO MUCH POTENTIAL to be written as a couple.
However, recently I have seen a bunch of post about Steddie shippers talking about surpassing the 8000+ works written under the Steve/Billy tag on Ao3 (They're always acting like it's a marathon. They write things lik: "Come on guy, we can do it!!!")
Listen, I understand where you guys are coming from, because I personally believe that while Billy Hargrove is an excellent written character (as in he's a really complex character) he IS a bad person, an awful person even, the list of problematic things about him is LONG.
So yeah, I understand that you guys want to surpass the number of Harringrove fanfics and put Steddie on top because it's indeed a fact that canonically Steve and Eddie have a better potential of being a healthier couple, an awesome ship.
Still, what's the point of surpassing the number of fanfiction written if the works that are being published under the Steve/ Eddie tag are not viewed as creative and fun works anymore? A lot of you are just perceiving their fanfiction just as a "number", a "target" to accomplish.
If you go through the "Eddie/Steve" tag you'll see that it is clogged with works that are just titles, works that have been improperly tagged, works that people are clearly not planning on finishing, works that are a copy of the previous one (as in it's literally the same story, the same tropes, the same dialogues and same plots with minimum variations). Works that are straight up -Excuse my language- SHITTY.
The fanfics that were written by the Stranger things fandom from 2016 until the first few months of 2022 (wether the fanfic was Mileven, Harringrove, Byler, Lumax, Jancy, Elmax, Stancy, etc) were works of people that wrote them driven by the fact that they genuinely love the fandom, the ship or just writing in general.
I can't tell or classify people's intentions (only they know why they write their stories) but by the way you guys are behaving on TikTok, Twitter, etc. in regards of the Steddie fanfiction it seems like a lot of your are only posting for the sake of posting.
Again, I'm not the fanfiction police or anything but... is it worth it?
Will it be worth it if Steddie has thousands of works under their tag if most of them are objectively a much lower quality than the 8000+ works that Steve/Billy fans have been working on for about 5 years? Why are you putting that kind of pointless pressure on yourselves?
I can testify that most of the Harringrove fanfics are very well written (I'm not a Billy Hargrove apologists, don't come from me) so when Steve and Eddie became a thing I was excited because "Yay! A non problematic ship that involves my favorite Stranger Things character (Steve) is here" and yes, at first it was fun but now that the Steve/Eddie tag is clogged with bullshit & not even half of the fanfics are good it's turning disappointing.
And yes, the Billy Hargrove of the fanfics is super "remixed" to make him less of an ass, but at least those stories are well planned and executed.
Also... The majority of the Steve/Eddie shippers seem to be the biggest Billy Hargrove antis (and I get that, canonical Billy is AN ASSHOLE, he's literally all the red flags in one dude. I would run away from him if I ever saw him on the street) but somehow you guys tend to "Billyfie" Eddie Munson a lot. You guys tend to give him Characteristics and fanfiction tropes that have been given to Billy for years...
Like, why? I find it kind of ridiculous...
At this point I don't know if I want to read more about Steve and Eddie anymore... Or if I do it I guess I'll have to sort from the thousands of awful stories that have been written in the span of months...
Or maybe in a couple of months you guys will forget about this weird behavior and will start writing decent stuff again.
As always, this is MY OPINION. If you disagree that's okay, we can have a civilized dialogue without insulting each other (also, English is not my first language, excuse my mistakes).
My advice as someone who has been reading fanfiction for more than 10 years is: Quality over quantity, guys.
Take your time! Writing can be a very personal an beautiful process, It is DEFINITELY NOT ABOUT NUMBERS, specially not in fanfiction where people are writing not as a job but FOR FUN.
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noshitbarnes · 1 year
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Anti-Hero: Prologue
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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC
Summary: After being experimented on as a young child and given abilities, Daniela has become a highly skilled member of the Avengers, and has even been assigned to mentor Peter Parker. Little does she know that the happiness she’s been able to find will become threatened by the very people who started her on her path long ago.
Warnings: angst, language, and mentions of torture
Word Count: 2,887
Notes: This has been in my WIPs for the longest time, so I decided to finally finish it up and let y’all read it! This chapter is just the set-up for Daniela’s character, so please be patient with me on the story development! I appreciate it! And as always if you want to be tagged in anything let me know!
Anti-Hero Masterlist
THREE YEARS EARLIER
"So, Sergeant Daniela Velikov, right?”
Daniela hears the voice, but doesn’t think much of it, thinking it was either her boss, Phil, or maybe Fitz from the lab with more specs for a new hand blaster. She finishes typing her sentence and then looks up from the screen towards the figure that was standing in front of her. The man’s suit was a dark navy blue that hugged his frame tightly, there was a large dark black star across his chest, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He was currently looking down at a file he had in his hands, he seemed quite interested in it; however, Daniela could still make out the dark circles under his eyes and the beard. She furrowed her brows while looking him over, thinking he could really use a shave, not that he looked bad, but that he'd look better if he trimmed his beard a bit. She stared at him a little while longer, thinking he looked slightly familiar, but the scruff and the dark suit told her she was wrong. It was when he finally looked up from the file, his blue eyes meeting her gaze that she knew who he was, Steve Rogers.
Quickly, she moves to stand at attention in front of him, "Yes, sir! Sergeant Velikov of the 78th Marines.”
"Well," Steve smirks as he looks her up and down, "you're not a Marine anymore,” Daniela smiles lightly as Steve looks back down at the file, “all right at ease, Sergeant,” she moves her feet apart and clasps her hands behind her back, “you have a very impressive resume for being just 23,” he closes the file and looks back to her.
Daniela wasn’t completely sure why Steve was here or why he was complimenting her. She had a feeling it most likely had something to do with the Avengers, she’s had many many talks with Phil about the team. Phil wanted her to join them, fight aliens, be a hero, maybe even lead the team in the future. His aspersions for her were always higher than her own.
Daniela decides to keep it cool and play along, "Thank you, sir, I've worked really hard to get where I am.”
He hums lightly and nods in agreement, "I got word about five months ago that there was someone within SHIELD who had some special abilities,” he raises glances at her to see if her demeanor changes, which it didn’t, "Coulson thought you might know who it is."
She tilts her head slightly trying her best to act dumb, "He did?”
He nods, "Sure did, got any ideas or should I start guessing?"
She shrugs one shoulder, "I don't work much with the rest of the team, sir, I usually do solo missions, so I wouldn't be the best person to ask."
Daniela made a rookie mistake, got all mushy one night, and told Phil a few things about her past, was a little too honest. She'd been apart of the team for about six months and the loneliness had gotten to her, she wasn't getting along with anyone at that point and the missions she'd been on were emotionally taxing, even for her. Phil was the only one that had shown any interest in being a friend, so after a particularly difficult mission, Daniela had a few too many drinks and went to his office and told him everything. It wasn't really anything Phil didn't already know, he was a SHIELD agent after all, he knew about her parents, how old she really was, and where she grew up, but he wasn't aware of her abilities. She never imagined that one night of confiding in a friend would lead to Steve Rogers showing up at her desk asking her questions.
Steve looks at her sternly and gestures to the file in his hand, "Do you know what this is?" Daniela shakes her head and he continues, "Coulson has personal files for every member of his team. Mostly for basic things, mission stats, what they like, what they don't, weaknesses, strengths, injuries," he drops the file behind her on her desk and points to it, "and that one's yours, so I'll ask you one more time Sergeant, do you know anyone here who has enhanced abilities?"
She glances at the file then back to Steve, with a blank expression. She had no problem lying, it was in her blood, after all she'd been doing it her entire life, but she did have a problem lying to Steve Rogers, America’s golden boy. She grew up watching him, idolizing him, and praying some day that maybe he'd come and save her too. Steve was one of the reasons she got into the army in the first place, along with more personal reasons.
Daniela takes a small calming breath, "Why does it even matter?"
Steve sighs, "Because if this person has enhanced abilities, I need to find out if their using them for the right reasons. I won't led SHIELD fall again."
Steve knew that the girl in front of him posed no threat because of the high praise Phil gave her, and Phil was one of the few he could actually trust. The only reason he was even here, grilling this woman, was because of Tony. The past few years had been rough on everyone and Tony thought it would be good for Steve to get out of the compound and try to recruit a few new faces. The entire purpose of recruitment now was to build a future team, with a good leader, and if Steve could persuade her, Daniela would be perfect.
Daniela pauses for a moment, "But why should they trust you?"
Steve pauses, he hasn’t had anyone question his motives in quiet some time, it was almost refreshing, "I'm not here to gain your trust, Sergeant, this isn't some game, I'm looking for answers," he frowns slightly when her expression doesn't change, "just be honest with me," he sighs when she still doesn't answer, "I think you realize I already know."
Daniela shifts her weight to her left foot and nods slowly, "I.. Coulson was the only one I told and that was about a year ago ago," she looks to the ground and closes her eyes, "not that he didn't already know, the man is a spy after all," this leads to a small chuckle from Steve, but Daniela continues, "this is why I knew opening up to anyone would be a mistake. I only use my powers when I'm on solo missions, so I can avoid questions about how I got them. I thought I was doing a pretty good job at hiding things,” she opens her eyes and looks back to him, “I've been running from my powers my entire life, sir," she hesitates slightly afraid of sharing, but she continues, hoping he would understand, "if it makes any difference, I don't like that I have them either, but um, it wasn't exactly my choice."
Steve listens intently, hearing not just her words, but the emotions behind them. He knew about her past, but only surface details, like where she was born and raised, who her parents are, and that they were the ones who gave Daniela her powers. If he was being completely honest, he wasn't sure if he ever wanted to know exactly how she got them. Being a guinea pig of any kind is not a fun process.
Steve keeps his poker face and decides to change the subject, "You've been with SHIELD for nearly two years, never had any disciplinary actions, never asked any questions, have always done what you’re told. You're no doubt the best agent Coulson's got,” he looks her up and down assessing her, surprised such skill could come from someone so small, “so why stop here? Got any higher aspirations?"
Daniela chuckles lightly, the change of subject a slight relief, "Are you trying to get me to join the Avengers? I thought that was usually Stark's gig."
"He's got the day off," he smiles and continues, "the team would love to see a new face, have some help with missions,” she looks to him slightly confused, so he explains further, “we need some young faces to be the future of the team, the rest of us can’t do this forever. How about it? Coulson thinks you’d fit in with us well, maybe even help run it at some point.”
Daniela scoffs lightly at his remark and shakes her head. She’s always believed in what she did, she put her heart and soul into it, and sometimes that cost her, but there was no way she wanted to lead a team of superheroes, "With all due respect, Captain, I don't think that's up my ally.”
He takes in a deep breath and takes a step closer, now only a few feet from her, "Show me what you can do,” after all, it’s what he came here for.
The sudden closeness shocks her and her eyes grow wide, "W-what?"
He smiles sweetly and nods his head to her hands, "We just agreed that you have powers, now show me.”
She visibly clenches her jaw to calm her growing temper, “Yes, sir.”
Daniela slowly unclasps her hands and brings them around in front of her. She then turns them over, palms now facing the ceiling, while taking a deep calming breath, her hands begin to glow a soft icy white. Steve watches her hands intently, thoroughly impressed with what he's seeing. Moments later she starts a small fountain from her palms, letting the water flow freely for a few heartbeats, then freezes the water over quickly, “There.”
Steve raises an eyebrow, Phil wasn’t kidding, this girl really did have talent, but she had one more secret, "What else?”
She closes her hands abruptly causing the ice to shatter and fall to the floor around their feet, “Well... I um... I don’t tell many about the rest of my powers, sir.”
“Do I need to earn your trust?”
She shakes her head and furrows her brows, “Um... not exactly,” she purses her lips, “I’m just more worried about scaring people.”
Steve smirks slightly, “You realize that my best friend has a vibranium arm and I live with the Scarlet Witch. Those are just the calm ones, we also have an archer who climbs through the vents.”
That made her relax a bit and she chuckles, making Steve smile-- she had a cute laugh. Daniela didn’t know much about the Avengers personal life, other than what Phil told her, which wasn’t much, “Barton climbs in the vents?”
He shakes his head, “Yeah, I don’t ask why.”
Steve didn’t really ask too many questions about the others, figured it was none of his business, although if they wanted to share he’d happily listen. Some say that made him cold and off-putting, that he was too much of a soldier, but it wasn’t that at all, he cared too much. He was worried that getting too close to those he worked with would just put them in danger.
Daniela giggles and Steve continues, “Anyway, what else can you do? I won’t tell a soul,” he holds up two fingers, “scouts honor.”
She heavily sighs, “I... um, alright... my powers. They call it cryo-electricity. I can manipulate ice and lightning either at the same time or separately. I’ve learned over the years I can use water and frost too.”
Bringing her right hand back up in front of her, palm still facing the sky, she curls her fingers inward slightly, as if she was holding a ball. She scowls slightly at her hand, still unsure about showing him, but he already knew, so might as well. Clenching her teeth, trying to focus on her hand, small violet colored sparks begin to dance from her fingers like little strings. It wasn’t much, but it proved the point that she could do it.
"Impressive," he meets her gaze when the sparks die out and sees hesitation in her eyes, "I'm not saying you have to join, but you'd be helping a lot of people, and I know that's what you want."
Seeing that she still wasn't sure, he decides to take a different approach, and grabs the folder off her desk, "Says here you where on the fast track to joining the SRT squad before you were recruited to SHIELD,” he raises a curious eyebrow, looking over the file, "they don't normally allow women to join.”
The SRT team was the Special Reaction Team that responds to more dangerous and high risk situations within the military base. Basically they were the army equivalent of a SWAT team. They actually don’t allow women to join, but the General that Daniela worked under saw great potential in her and said he’d grant her request when it was time. She thought she would be able to help more people if she was on the squad, which is partiality what she wanted. She still had another year left before officially applying for the team when Phil found her and convinced her of a different path.
She nods at Steve, "They said I fit the bill for what they needed, sir.”
He purses his lips in agreement, she was a fine soldier, not a lot of women can say they were a Sergeant in the Marines. He then tilts his head curiously at her, “What made you want to be with SHEILD then? You could've gotten everything you wanted with SRT. Action, adventure, helping people, what changed?”
"I um,” Daniela takes a deep breath, "it's of personal nature, sir.”
"Got anything to do with your parents?” He lightly throws the file back onto the desk causing her eyes to widen.
"Possibly, sir," she pauses, “I um, I didn't realize you knew about them.”
Unfortunately for Steve, he knew all to well who her parents were, he just never realized that they had a daughter, “Stark and I had," he nods his head side-to-side, "a chance encountered with your father once, about a year ago, it ended with him getting away,” he frowns slightly at the ground and then looks back into Daniela's eyes, “Didn’t realize he had a daughter.”
Daniela’s parents always got away. She was starting to think they were destined to live free while she was destined to spend her eternity chasing after them like an idiot. They needed to pay, no, had to pay for what they did, not just to her, but for what they’re continuing to do. They’re monsters.
“Yeah, they’re not particularly proud of me, sir. They think that what happened to me was a blessing and that I am wasting my gift," she sighs and looks to the floor, "My apologies for having to deal with him.”
"No need, not your doing," she looks back to him and his eyes had softened, "you turned out quiet the opposite of him.”
"I um,” she scoffs, "I've worked my whole life to be the opposite of them both. I’ve tried to use what they cursed me with for the greater good, sometimes I can, some days, not so much,” she looks at her hands and shakes her head.
He takes a few steps towards her and rests a hand on her shoulder, "You've made a huge difference and changed a lot of lives, for the better,” she smiles weakly and he takes his hand away, "I can help you take the fight to Hydra. I can't promise we'll see your parents, but I can promise that if we do, we'll make them pay for what they did.”
"I've been fighting Hydra for decades, sir," she chuckles lightly, "Phil did the same speech with me years ago and he was able to convince me enough to join up here. After all these years, I have yet to see either of them.”
Steve nodded forgetting that her true age didn't show, “Well, I don't suggest you actually go looking for them,” he looks to her sternly, “you might not be happy with what you find.”
Daniela mumbles softly to herself, "Never stopped you,” he raises his eyebrows at her in surprise, "I'm sorry, sir, that was uncalled for.”
"It's alright," he shrugs and continues, "but I do know from experience that dwelling on the past only causes more pain.”
Moving on was something Daniela didn't do well, even after over 90 years. Little things tended not to bother her so much now, but childhood trauma was something that she still couldn't let go of. After all, her parents tortured her, changed her DNA, gave her powers, and then abandoned her at an orphanage when she didn't agree with their evil plan all by the age of eight. How can anyone just wake up one morning and go, "Yeah, this is fine."? The best course of action is to just fake a smile, bury the emotions deep, and hope that one day they'll die.
Daniela stares at him and blinks, "So I've been told, sir.”
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cloudinterlude · 1 year
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stony in bio and three and a half stony posts total lmao. it’s okay to ship stucky come join us.
This is genuinely so hilarious to me omg. Thank you, anon. I like that you confronted me on this cause I was thinking about it. Believe me, I would ship Stucky with you if I could! Unnecessarily long post coming because I love to ramble and talk about myself!
There's a few reasons why I don't talk about Stony that much, but none of them have anything to Stucky LOL. I have zero Stucky posts (as far as I know) for a reason!
This is a Steve blog first and foremost! I just appreciate Steve because I love him so damn much and I want to contribute to his fanbase. There's so many misunderstandings or straight bullshit about his character that are SO easy to counter and clear up and I like doing that. I like talking about who he is, what's he's done, why's he's done it and his interactions with others. I've been a little reserved on that front, but that'll change soon. I was initially nervous about this turning into too much of a shipping account because I didn't want to turn into one of those people who reduce Steve to his ship or only love him when he's in a ship. Thankfully, I found that I just genuinely like the guy individually and can talk about him all day lol.
Funny thing, I actually tried hard as Hell to ship Stucky when I first started watching the MCU for the sole reason it was the top ship on ao3. But I just didn't connect with it at all. I see the vision - even I can admit the idea is extremely romantic. Past lovers who knew each other their whole lives and discovered that not even the force of death can keep them apart? Hell yeah! It's an objectively good ship, but it just doesn't hit me. Now, I actually have exceptions - I do occasionally read Stucky for two reasons. 1) Smut because it's easier to find sub/bottom Steve and that's hot, 2) Good Steve characterization and/or it's Steve centric, 3) If it's Bucky/Steve/Tony with NO Tony/Bucky (annoyingly rare to find this combo). I recently read a Stucky story that made me BALL my eyes out, so I'm not adverse to it, I'm just not passionate about them two together romantically.
Oddly enough, I'm fully willing to be on the platonic soulmates train. Steve and Bucky live in each others' back pockets? All for it. They'd do anything for each other? Yeah, fully agree. They'd by a farm together and live out the rest of their days if they found no one else? Absolutely. Just because I just can't force myself to see it through a romantic lens (most of the time) doesn't mean I'll downplay their relationship. It just doesn't make me feel anything. I suspect a large part of this is because I'm pretty neutral to Bucky's character and I've never been the type to ship characters if I'm not madly in love with and invested in both of them.
If I'm going to be honest, one reason Stony is even in my bio is to warn people that I'm not a Tony anti. I love Tony DOWN despite what I think of some of his decisions. I see him through such a sympathetic eye. I know there are people who have the same views as me (loves Steve, Team Cap, ect ect) don't like Tony and I wanted to give them a fair warning that I will be talking about him fondly, not only as an individual, but also together with our fav, Steve, which puts people off. And I don't particularly care if people hate Stony (I have one MCU ship I hate with a burning passion so I get it lol), but I didn't want to surprise anyone.
The other reason it's in my bio is because I love Stony and want to rep them lol. I'm extremely passionate about them together. ALL versions of them. My banner is the 1872-verse which is one of the most clear-cut canon depictions of Stony. It's perfect! Back on topic though - I actually don't look at many Stony blogs though since I'm particular about them and I'm afraid of seeing something that'll piss me off before I can filter it out lol. Most of my Stony consumption comes from fanfiction (I've even been doing that less since I've ran out of stories that appeal to me) and my own imagination. I actually have no problem talking about them more. I probably will be since I'm working on an insanely long fic on their relationship, but I'm pretty content just talking about Steve.
I don't talk about Stony much mostly because I don't know what to say and I'm nervous on the things I do want to say. Mind you, I'm not a reserved person at all when it comes to flapping my lips about my opinions. In fact, being nervous about it only makes me want to say it more. Just to prove I can lol. I only just learned how to pick my battles online a while ago. But my interpretation of Tony and Steve as individuals are often not in line with what majority of the Stony fandom has agreed on, so I kind of just, let it be. I don't know many people who ship Stony who have the same or even closely related view. Now this may fully be because I'm new to talking about them online so I just haven't had the chance, but I think a large part is that a lot of them just aren't in the fandom as deeply anymore. I've said this before, but I get it. It can be exhausting especially after CW came out. The only reason I'm here is I'm too stubborn for my own good.
Uhhh, I'm pretty sure I had more to say, but I forgot my other points this far...I might edit the post if I remember...anyways, I'm pretty sure this is WAY more than you asked LMAO. I run my mouth a lot! Anyways, thanks anon for stopping by to chat! <3
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thevindicativevordan · 6 months
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Comics this week, especially Wonder Woman's relaunch under Tom King ?
Wonder Woman #1 -
Wondersisters we're fucking back! Fantastic first issue from King and Sampere. It's a very tight compressed read, King wants to make the reader feel as blindsided by how quick everything goes to hell as Diana no doubt does. Sovereign looks like the King Washington from AC3, and I love his design. Connecting him to WW through the lasso mythology is a great concept. Despite the lasso being her iconic weapon, we really don't know a lot about it. King wants to write Superman so bad he gave Wonder Woman her own bald evil genius/mastermind to fight. Seeing Sarge Steel kill an Amazon in front of her own wife and child is a hell of a way to set the stakes. Some people were upset about that, but WW has needed to increase the feeling of danger in her books for a while now, and this accomplished that. Themsyacria itself isn't in danger, but Wonder Woman's mission in Man's World is, and that's a set up that works for me.
Love how Diana casts a huge shadow despite it being a while before she actually appears on page. We see King have her do all the actions you'd expect and then King shoots them all down as ineffective. God I love that scene where she sends her sword back to Nubia because she doesn't want to be tempted, sells the hell out of her being furious. And her dressing down of Sarge Steel? Peak Wonder Woman right there.
Steve is in a potentially very interesting place. Usually he's just Diana's wholesome and supportive boyfriend, this is a chance to put the screws to him and find out what makes him tick. He swore an oath and is technically committing treason by helping Diana, which he points out, but he still helps her all the same. Now I get we don't want to focus too much on a man in a WW book, but as her most important male supporting character, I argue that Steve needs fleshing out to bring him up to the level Lois and Selina are at.
My only qualm is I wish we get a page dedicated to the reaction of the other Wondy Rogues at this new player making moves. What does Circe or Cheetah or Cale make of this? Grail is going to show up, what's her angle? Definitely could see Psycho jumping for joy. While I doubt Sovereign can actually be Wondy's arch, I do like him as this new major player who upends Wondy's status quo, and I want to see where the other Wondy Rogues fit into his plans.
Superman #6 - Quick read but at least next issue is the oversized one. Livewire remains an ass despite working at the Daily Planet and that makes me deliriously happy. Having her as the anti-Superman voice at the Planet is a great gag, hell you could even have her livestream her fights with Supes to boost the DP's sales as a way to profit from being a villain even when she loses. AI Lex insisting on calling Superman "son" remains hilarious, Clark is clearly fed up with Lex's bullshit. The Chained seems to be a powerful telekinetic, was hoping for a more creative powerset, but at least he has hair. Saw that reference to Master Jailer helping Lex build the prison that held Chained, please let that be a tease for Jailer to make his return soon.
World's Finest #19 - Meh. Far as first meetings between Superman and Batman go, this one is down near the bottom. Jax is every bit as boring as I thought he would be, and Waid just pays lip service at the end towards the idea of Batman not trusting Superman. More fuel for the speculation that Waid is taking over Action with "Aethyr" showing up. What a boring look and design, not at all the Lovecraftian god in the vein of Gerber that PKJ had been building up. If Waid is really taking Action I have zero hope he delivers a satisfying conclusion to whatever plot threads PKJ himself doesn't wrap up. Waid is simply too stuck in the Silver Age. Let's hope Kingdom Come gives this book the shot in the arm it needs.
Nightwing #106 - Without Redondo the book's paper thin nature is front and center. Still, far as continuity goes, this does use the Ric era in a good way. Taylor of all people being the one to do something interesting with that time period surprises me.
Green Lantern: War Journal #1 - My grandma has dementia and I teared up at that scene where John makes a construct of his sister for his mother who has it. Caring for relatives with dementia is just trying to keep them happy even when it breaks your heart. If PKJ is really losing Action, at least here he can continue the United Planets plot threads with Thaaros. John put that fraud GL in his place and it was badass. If the Radiant Queen can body hop, maybe the people who speculated she's an alternate version of Katma are right and the body she's been in isn't her original.
Vigil #5 - It's good! Castle is more than a little shit.
Loki #4 - Damn good mini that I can only assume is being totally ignored by Ewing given the ending has Loki seemingly embracing his status as the God of Lies again. Or is that actually setting up Ewing Loki, who is openly apologetic about how he's going to fuck over Thor if it makes for a good tale in Immortal Thor? Watters needs to get more work.
Captain America #1 - Solid character beats and interactions, but it lacks a big "hook" as it were to keep me reading. I am amused to see JMS' big return to Marvel monthlies involves someone trying to make a deal with the devil.
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starkstruck27 · 9 months
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Tag game: Stranger Things Edition!!
I was tagged by my bestie @oopsiedaisiesbaby. Love you!!💚💚
1. Ride or die ship (your otp): Harringrove
2. Most annoying ship: Mileven
3. Second favorite ship: probably mungrove (bonus points if I get the best of both worlds and it ends up as harringroveson)
4. Favorite platonic relationship: Either stobin or elmax. They're both amazing <3
5. Underrated ship: gonna go with elmax again for this one. Or Keg Boys. I feel like they don't get as much love as they deserve.
6. Overrated ship: normally I would say steddie, but I also love them, too, so I'm gonna say ronance. I can see it, but at the same time... meh?
7. One thing I would change in canon: a lot of the random, unneeded deaths. Bob, Billy, Alexei, Benny, Barb, Chrissy? I feel like none of those needed to happen for the plot to move along, and even if they did, like they didn't have to make them like an "Oh well, they're dead :/" thing. Like, they didn't deserve that. And even if they didn't do that, the way the other characters reacted to the deaths was kinda shallow, too. Like Nancy losing Barb would broken my heart a lot more if they didn't use her mourning as a plot device to make her lose Steve and hook up with Jonathan.
8. Something canon did right: the character dynamics. The way they had the kids fighting over petty shit while bad things were happening, how Dustin didn't have a dad so he latched onto Steve as an older brother type positive influence, the way Hopper had to get used to being a dad again and ask Joyce for help? All of that was just beautifully done.
9. A thing I'm proud of creating for the Fandom PLEASE BRAG ABOUT YOURSELF I WANT TO SEE/READ YOUR ART: All of my works on Ao3, but probably my favorite (at the moment) is my fic So Give Him Inches and Feed Him Well or my six fic series Cool To Hate.
10. A character who is perfect to me (wouldn't change a thing): Max, Lucas, Dustin and Will. They're all so sweet and funny and I love them.
11. The character I relate to the most and why: normally I would say Billy, but lately it's been more Max. She's stuck in a house with a jerk of an older brother who goes off like a volcano over the littlest things, though most of the time he's dormant unless he wants to annoy her, and she has to witness him and the only father figure she has fighting all the time. Getting into screaming matches, sometimes getting physical, and while in my situation it's more the son causing problems for the father, it's still bad. The only reprieve I get is when I'm out with my friends, and even though I still care about both of them, I'm starting to lose that love for one of them (in her case Neil, in my case my brother) because of how they treat everyone else and acts like everything is normal afterwards.
12. The character I hate the most and why: Karen Fucking Wheeler. How she can go from being a concerned, doting mother in season one to pretty much a sexual predator in the span of a few seasons, I'll never know. I could understand if she cheated on Ted and went after someone her own age, but the fact that she went after a boy no older than her daughter just makes me sick. And yes, Billy flirted with her, too, but come on. He's a misguided 17-18 year old abused kid looking for any kind of affection wherever he can get it. And Karen is the adult. She should fucking know better.
13. Something I've learned from the fandom: How to politely disagree with people and kill them with kindness. That's why I have an anti's ask pinned to the top of my blog, because I want people to know that I don't care who or what they like, so I'll respect them, but if they come onto my blog actively trying to start shit, I will not fucking stand for it :)
14. Three tags I seek out on Ao3: hurt/comfort, Fluff and Angst, and enemies to lovers.
15. A song I strongly associate with my otp/favorite characters: I made a whole playlist dedicated to Billy, so.... but if I had to pick -
For harringrove: In The Woods Somewhere by Hozier or Don't You Dare (Make Me Fall In Love With You) by Kaden MacKay
For Billy: Far Too Young To Die by Panic! At The Disco, Beautiful Girls by Van Halen, Bella by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Cherry Pie by Warrant. Also pretty much Guns N Roses' entire discography.
So, everyone I usually tag for these has already done it (I think), but on the off chance you didn't, I'll tag @thissortofsorcery and @half-oz-eddie , as well as anyone else who wants to participate!
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scripted-downfall · 1 year
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The Blog So Far
I've been on here for a enough posts that I figure I should make a pinned post to help people navigate... Hope this helps a bit! (This will expand as time goes on and more fandoms/ask-topics/etc are added.)
Profiles: (where to reach me!)
AO3: SerpentCountess
ffnet: SerpentCountess
Multi-fandom Discord server (MUST BE POSITIVE; FANDOM HATE NOT ALLOWED): for more information --- and the link --- see this Tumblr post!
@wench-and-jezebel (Side blog with @typicalopposite): Being a series of posts regarding Visual Media, which the entities known as Wench and Jezebel shall view with the intent to React (aka: where we react to the things)
Ask Posts: My askbox is always open! It might take me a bit to answer, heads-up. Also, given recent drama, I might not always answer (see blog description for more information). Feel free to reach out!
Ask Status: A live-updated post regarding where I am in the ask-answering process
#scripted downfall ask games: ask games! (no due date either; feel free to ask about any, no matter how long ago I reblogged it, as long as you include a title/link so I know which you're referring to!)
#scripted downfall asks answered: answers to all asks, regardless of content
#i always come when you call (sd): answers to Supernatural-specific asks
#the curiosity door is open (sd): answers to Stranger Things- specific asks
#i push the [ask] button and she answers usually (sd): answers to Once Upon a Time-specific asks
#security protocol 1! information: (sd): answers to Doctor Who-specific asks
#[you] only ever asked questions. that's all it took to be a demon in the old days (sd): answers to Good Omens-related asks
#scripted downfall inverted asks: answers to my Inverted Ask series (explanation available in the post Inverted Ask 1).
Fandoms: (e.g. I have posted about these more than thrice, listed in no particular order. Asterisks mean that I have written and posted fics for them; will probably write for any of them if asked. A very brief summary of my stances will follow.)
Supernatural*: Destiel* shipper, pro-Dean, pro-Cas, anti-Sam, anti-John, anti-Mary
Stranger Things*: Steddie shipper (also Ronance-, Rockie-positive, and Byler-positive, but only very rarely post about them). Steve and Nancy are chaotic platonic soulmates and I love them together.
Good Omens*: love everything about it; can't really sum it up well beyond that
Once Upon a Time*: Captain Swan shipper, anti-Baelfire, anti-Swanfire
MXTX Works: Have read Mo Dao Zu Shi, watched the donghua (but not the chibi --- yet), and watched the Untamed; have read Tian Guan Ci Fu and watched all of the Heaven Official's Blessing donghua; have read SVSSS and seen the sole existing season of the donghua.
The Musketeers*: Athos is my beloved, but I adore them all, so...
Our Flag Means Death: see summary for GOmens
Lucifer: pro-Lucifer, Chloe-iffy, Deckerstar-iffy
Dark Angel*: Alec is my beloved. Max is my beloathed. Logan is... iffy depending on the day.
Doctor Who*: 9 and 10 are my favorites. Don't much like 11. Ten and Donna are also chaotic platonic soulmates and I love them together. 9Rose/10Rose-ambivalent.
Dead Like Me: PLEASE interact with me about this! Love that show :)
Musicals*: love them and will probably rant about them. Favorites include: Sweeney Todd, Chess, Jesus Christ Superstar, Into the Woods, Evita, Beetlejuice, Heathers, Les Miserables, Legally Blonde, SIX, etc. BREAKING NEWS! I HAVE DISCOVERED STARKID! THIS IS REVOLUTIONARY AND I NEED ASSISTANCE BECAUSE I AM DERANGED OVER THE ENTIRE GROUP AND ESPECIALLY HATCHETVERSE. COME RANT WITH ME ABOUT IT!
Polls (live):
None rn!
Please feel free to interact with any "old" posts on here! I always want to hear from folks, even if it's from ages ago in internet time. (However, if it's an old ask game/Inverted Ask, please label your ask with a title or something so that I know to what you're referring.)
Thanks for visiting! :)
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scotianostra · 11 months
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Happy Birthday Scottish actor Martin Compston.
Born in Greenock on May 8th 1984 the second of two boys he attended St Columba's High School in nearby Gourock. As a child he dreamed of becoming a footballer and at 17 left school to pursue that dream, he was soon signed by Morton Football Team.
Before leaving school his acting career began when Ken Loach discovered him at an audition at his old high school and gave him the lead role in Sweet Sixteen, which also starred a very good friend of mine, Gary McCormack as Martin's step dad, Stan.
The movie was filmed in Martin's home area, including Greenock, Gourock, Inverkip, Kilmalcolm, and Wemyss Bay and was a huge success, which shot Martin into full view of the public and even gave some fame to Inverclyde. However, many counsellors thought that this was bad publicity because the film has to do with drugs and underage drinking. However, Ken Loach then made a statement that the movie was not based on Greenock and Inverclyde - but was only filmed there, as that was where Martin was located.
Martin's subsequent film career was comparatively low-key, as he wanted to "serve his apprenticeship" with a regular role in the popular series Monarch of the Glen as Ewan Brodie. Since then we have seen Martin in some of the most popular shows on TV including, Silent Witness,, Victoria and In Plain Sight. His film roles have included playing the gangster Paul Ferris in the movie, The Wee Man, and as Lord Bothwell in the latest Mary Queen of Scots film on which he commented “Riding about on a horse, with a sword. It’s fantastic “
Sometimes the sign of a good actor is how well you can adapt your accent for the roles, and Martin does this with ease in perhaps his most famous role as anti corruption officer Sergeant Steve Arnott in the police drama Line of Duty, he has been in the series since it's start in 2012 and has confirmed he will be returning to play Steve in a new series, the read throughs' started just before lock down started and we shall not see the new shows now until well into 2021. Many people did not realise that Martin is Scottish and does speak with a guid Scots accent.
As for his football career Martin says " I don't regret giving up football for acting. I love football and am very proud I played for Morton. But the truth is, I wasn't going to get much higher in football." He made two first team starts for the team in the 2001/2002 season.
In the past year or so Martin has starred in The Rig, which was well received, although I wasn't impressed with it. He also starred in a brilliant two parter. Mayflies, which I thoroughly enjoyed, in the BBC drama he teamed up with his friend Tony Curran.
Next up for him he sets off an epic northern adventure with his best friend Phil MacHugh in the second series of  Martin Compston’s Scottish Fling
Martin like myself, is a fan of Glasgow Celtic FC.
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missvelvetsstuff · 2 years
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Little Bird
Bucky Barnes x OFC/reader
Chapter 18
Warning: Swearing, angst, references to masturbation
Rika woke up early, not by choice but because the dreams were more exhausting than staying awake at this point. Now, in addition to the possibility of Bucky trying to kill or fuck her, sometimes he died protecting her. It was all too much. If there were a way to wipe her memories she would, the weight was too much for her to bear.
She took a hot shower and went to get coffee as Bucky, Steve and Sam were returning from their morning run. Rika grunted a good morning and grimaced at them.
Sam patted her on the back "Rough night?"
Rika shrugged "Nothing new."
Bucky tried to smile at her encouragingly and left to shower.
Bucky was also up early, anxious about his appointment this morning. Still trying to work thru the info they found about his time with Hydra. Some of it was new and actually surprised him but explained a lot. He didn't know if any of it would matter to Rika. He wasn't expecting anything for himself but hoped it would ease her mind some.
Rika was already waiting when Bucky arrived at Raynor's office, pacing nervously. She looked up and gave him a pained grin. Before either had a chance to say anything Dr Raynor called them back.
Rika sat down, fidgeting nervously with her hands. Bucky sat on the other end of the couch, to give her some space and started tapping his fingers on the arm.
Dr Raynor sat down "I'll start today. It's come to my attention that there is some severe tension between the two of you and it's interfering with your ability to work together and affecting team morale overall. We need to find a way to work through it so that you two can interact enough to take care of the missions you are assigned without causing distractions that can get someone hurt or killed.
Now, I've heard from both of you but you need to talk to each other. Before that you both need all the info.
First, your recent mission at another Hydra base has uncovered some information on how the Winter Soldier was created, the brainwashing he was subjected to etc.
James, would you like to tell Rika what we found?"
Bucky shifted nervously and looked at his hands. "I don't know the technical stuff of how they did it but apparently Hydra included submission to anyone with the Hydra logo visible on them, to make sure I would always follow orders. Plus the hatred and fear of mutants, to help control me so I didn't become friendly with any of the mutants they kept as prisoners and try to work together and escape.
My memories of fighting Magneto are muddled. I thought Hydra sent me to fight and capture him but according to the files he was also a prisoner and they made us fight because they knew I couldn't beat him. Mystique was also a prisoner for a time and I saw her shape shifting. I vaguely remember fighting with her but it's hazy"
Rika sat listening to him explaining with her eyes wide and mouth agape. She shook her head. "So the anti mutant racism was part of your Winter Soldier programming? Is this supposed to make me feel better? Is this more manipulation from you and the team to make me warm up to you? To trust you?" Her voice was going up as she spoke and became more agitated.
Rika stood up "I'm supposed to believe it wasn't really you being a racist cunt because Hydra did it? After your attempts at manipulation to change my opinion of you? Throwing yourself on a bullet, last nites movie, trying to woo me at my birthday party. This seems awfully convenient considering the timing. Why did it stick even though the Winter Soldier is supposed to be gone? It was Bucky being a racist ass, not the Winter Soldier.
I'm going to need to see those reports before I do anything else."
Bucky nodded "I figured you would want to see them. I have given Raynor permission to release my records to you so you can read them yourself and confirm what I told you.
For all the fucked up things I've said and done to you, I've never tried to manipulate you. Last nite was all on Nat and Sam. They herded the team into the common room and picked the movie. I didn't even realize what they were doing until you came in and the only open seat was next to me. I do have feelings for you but have tried to be respectful of your feelings and give you your space. And taking that bullet wasn't an attempt to manipulate you, I didn't really even have time to think before I acted. My behavior at your party was all sincere but I can see how it would be suspect considering everything."
Rika bristled "If it was programmed into you then how have you been able to stop acting that way? If it's supposedly beyond your control how did you change?"
Bucky sighed "I don't know. After you decided to join the team I started working with Dr Raynor to 'reprogram' myself using hypnotherapy. A few weeks ago we discussed the possibility of the anti mutant feelings being part of my programming but it was just speculation and I didn't want to bring it up. I thought it would just sound like a pathetic excuse and I wanted to take responsibility for what I had done instead of making more excuses. In the end, regardless of why I did it, it was still me just like with everything else the Winter Soldier did.
During our hypnotherapy sessions we found a memory with your mom. We were in neighboring cells and while I had already given up on ever getting out she refused to stop looking for a way out. She made me believe we had a chance and we worked on an escape plan together. I don't know everything that happened but the guards saw us getting close and word got back to Pierce. They moved her, I never saw her after that and I started to believe she had escaped and left me behind because I'm not a mutant. That quickly evolved into believing that all mutants only cared about other mutants and couldn't be trusted. Now I know that those feelings were forced on me."
Rika was speechless. She looked at Bucky and back at Dr Raynor not sure how to take all of this.
She blinked to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall
"I-I- I don't know. Can you send the reports to my email and I, I'll, I have to go" she bolted out of the room.
Bucky watched her go and Dr Raynor spoke up "Just let her go. She will need some time to process everything."
As Rika ran away she asked Friday where Tony was and headed for his lab when the AI confirmed he was there.
Tony looked up when Rika burst into his lab "What's happening, Smurfette?"
His tone changed to concerned when he saw the tears on her face "You ok there, kiddo? I take it you're coming from the meeting with Barnes and Raynor?"
"Did you know, Tony?"
"Only when I went thru the info Nat downloaded on that last mission. I couldn't say anything, it wasn't my story to tell." He looked at her sadly.
"I know Tony, I'm not mad at you. Or anyone for not telling me. I just don't know how to process it all."
"Yeah, it's a lot. Look, we don't have anything coming up so why don't you take a few personal days. You can go to my cabin upstate. It's quiet and remote, if that kind of thing helps you think. It's also well stocked with a full bar, if that kind of thing helps you think" He shrugged
Rika gave him a sudden hug "Thank you Tony."
"Sure, kid. Take the Audi, keys are on the rack right there. Friday will set the GPS up for you" he pointed vaguely, starting back on his work.
Rika grabbed the keys, went to her room and packed a bag for a few days. She sent a text to Nat and Wanda to let them know where she would be.
When the team sat down for dinner Bucky looked around "Where's Rika?"
Nat took her seat "She left for some personal time. I think she needed some space" she looked at Bucky pointedly.
He blushed and mumbled "right" and was quiet for the rest of the night.
When Rika arrived at the cabin she set down the food she had picked up, poured a glass of wine and ate standing in the kitchen. She cleaned her trash and picked up her overnite bag dropped it on the bed, fished out one of the edibles she packed, ate it, refilled her glass of wine and took a long, hot bath. She wanted to calm her brain, every thought of Bucky pushed aside for awhile so she could rest.
After her bath she dried off, put her lotion on the vanilla and lavender scent soothing her, threw on some PJ's and settled into the huge bed in the master bedroom.
Rika tossed and turned for a few hours and finally gave up, pulling out her trusty B.O.B. from her bag to help relieve her sexual frustration and relax. After 3 orgasms, another edible and another glass of wine she finally fell asleep as the sun was getting ready to rise.
Bucky on the other hand, couldn't find any peace or relief. He tossed and turned all night, even after a hot shower where he came twice he still couldn't sleep. He just laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling, daydreaming of Rika and hoping she would return soon.
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