listen i know we all love steve “completely ignorant of queer culture to the point that bisexuality is a surprise” harrington being roasted and educated in turns by robin and eddie, yadda yadda, good stuff. i read “they made a horror version of rocky?” in a fic recently and cackled. also a big fan of “he knew he was bi from the start and just never talked about it” as a trope, love it excellent well done
but what about steve who realizes after starcourt that the most important person in his life now has this thing that’s a major part of her life that he knows nothing about, and what if he fucks it up? what if he says something ignorant or rude by accident, and hurts her? what if he loses her because he didn’t know the right thing to say? what if he can’t keep her safe because he doesn’t know what to look out for? absolutely fucking not, this steve says
and listen she’d never say anything, because she can tell that he can tell how much she likes teasing him and teaching him things, so he plays dumb, and she thinks it’s very sweet. but she notices when the zines she keeps under her bed that she buys at that one secret bookshop in indy when she can sneak away on family trips start going missing, always one at a time, and replaced in a few days with another disappearing. and she finds the new ones he must have gone to buy the weekend she was at her aunt’s house hidden in the back of his closet when she goes to steal one of his sweaters. and she notices when he slips more of her queerer movie recommendations into his personal take home pile rather than the movie night stack when he thinks she’s not looking.
she doesn’t notice when he drives to indianapolis after she tries to explain to him why she can’t just ask out a cute girl, tries to impress on him the fear attached to every moment of attraction that he simply has never had to feel, but later she finds a crumpled receipt from a diner in one of his jacket pockets when she’s looking for his keys, and the address is across the street from the bar the gorgeous woman at the bookstore told her about, the one she memorized the address of but hasn’t worked up the guts to think about visiting, and she knows he must have gone looking for a place like that, must have been trying to understand, must have been scoping it out to make sure it was somewhere she could feel safe, after she told him she never had.
so when eddie nearly pops a blood vessel when they clock each other and she mentions that steve is the only person she’s ever come out to before, her hackles come up. because she gets it, she does, he’s only known king steve until recently, so it makes sense that he would be afraid, be concerned for her safety.
but steve is her person, and no one- no one- has ever made her feel as protected or as cared for as he does. no one has ever tried as hard to understand her, no one has ever put so much work into making her feel safe and seen and loved. and she thinks maybe even if no one else ever does, that’s ok. because she has steve, and more importantly steve has her, and that means no one gets to question his ally credentials in her presence without a dressing down to remember, no matter how well they mean or how recently they helped save the world.
(and maybe she’s not as surprised as she could be when he figures out bisexuality all on his own, because she’s been reading all the same pamphlets he has, after all. and she’s seen the way he looks at eddie, i mean come on. maybe no one else has noticed, but then, nobody knows steve harrington like she does.)
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this evening's thought: thinking about how john is So attached to dave that he gave dave a role in his band, presumably as an excuse to get him to actually attend their concerts, despite dave having 0 musical capacity and, seemingly, not wanting to have any musical capacity, and also not being made to play an instrument but just... doing something really stupid on stage then fucking off for the rest of it. fully believe if john could physically lift dave he would just drag that man with him everywhere
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i will literally never understand when a character gets hate for being ‘overdramatic’ or highly emotional because like. i live for that shit. i fucking love when a character has a strong emotional response to a relatively ‘minor’ thing i love when characters cry easily and frequently i love when characters are loud and ‘annoying’ i live for drama. if a character is frequently hated on by fans for being annoying there is a 9/10 chance that character is one of my faves. no i dont think my neurodivergence has anything to do with this
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moments like this when im really glad im a sad little cynic who always considers the worst possible outcome and never lets herself truly get comfortable and trust the good things in her life to stay there and builds her life around trying to soften the blows of the eventual disappointments just waiting around the corner lol never leaving my edgy teenager era peace and love
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top 5 trek moments
ok i have to be so honest with you bc i DID start writing it but also this is literally so, so freaking difficult- bc theres so MUCH and i did try to limit it to TOS but even then its so hard and also its been a while since ive watched itand i feel like things areslipping from my grasp and im like OMG overwhelemed so i might have to throw in the towel, give up the ghost, like w-
JUST KIDDING.
AMOK TIME TIT SLASH
AMOK TIME TIT SLASH
when spock installed a boob window in kirk's shirt
AMOK TIME TIT SLASH
AMOK TIME TIT SLASH
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I do sometimes find it really annoying that most of the things I do right now are At Least tangentially related to a trauma I lived through.
I am living in a university dorm right now, it's a very typical thing to do, but most people return to their family home during the weekends and only really stay in the dorms because they have classes in the week and having to go from their home to the classes, especially the 9 am classes, can be heavy if they live somewhat further away. I stay in my dorm the entire week. For Reasons I don't want to go back to my old home for longer than half a day to drop my laundry and leave with clean clothes, some food and a chat with my mother. I wouldn't feel good doing so anymore, but mentioning that is weird because most people (except internationals because going to a full on other country just for the weekend, every weekend, would be a bit dumb) return to their home (My dorm feels more like home to me right now than my old house did btw).
When I say I stay in my dorm people are somewhat confused, as it on its own already implies that something must not be that good at the familial home for me to not go there for the weekends. By the simple fact I don't go back it's already implied there is something wrong, and it's true, there Is something wrong, but I can't just start explaining the whole thing, it's not really appropriate for most conversations, and I simply don't want to open up about this part of my traumas. So I just have to quickly and very blatantly brush off that fact and the unpleasant implications to continue the conversation without making it awkward and it's so annoying.
Most of my weird trauma responses at least have the added thing that if I don't verbalize them nobody will really notice. I am good at hiding them, I kinda had to, but this dorm situation is such a blatant sign of something Weird (and not the good kind) that I cannot hide since my actions on their own imply a situation already.
I am somewhat good at dealing with all of these issues, brushing off The Problems is a typical part of normal conversations, but it does get frustrating sometimes when I get severely affected by something traumatic, and it's The Only reason that my problem happened, but I cannot talk about it in casual conversations because of how heavy and intense it is. I have to vaguely mention The Horrors (They Are Complex) and move on before I make my conversation partner uncomfortable. It happened when I had to miss a class because of a severe relapse in my mental health, it happens every time I mention I stay in my dorm the weekends, it happens whenever I get too jittery and weird because of stress (I don't even always know Why I am stressed) and I just cannot explain anything about the cause because it's too heavy for most people to hear. (I do understand that fact, it makes sense you're not going to tell classmates casually about the horrific stuff you went through in your personal life, but it fucking gets annoying when it is fully related to a situation and I have to Shut The Fuck Up anyway.)
It's just frustrating to me that I have to deal with all these Weird Things because of trauma, and everyone sees them, but I cannot explain where they come from truthfully because of how much they are. It's in this weird middle state where people See I am weird hurt, but they don't Know why. I do things differently for reasons they can assume are unpleasant, but I cannot ever truly explain everything to them.
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i think a lot about helia being saladin's grandson and how it's heavily implied that he's close with codatorta too and him being codatorta's best student at some point. and how most of the characters either immediately assumed nepotism or weren't exactly disagreeing with it. and how saladin and codatorta go out of their way to Not treat helia better and how all of that combined can really fuck with a young teen's mind and perception of themselves.
he never thinks he's good enough or the right person for the job. he always wants to prove himself. he's really sensitive to making mistakes and immediately assumes everyone hates him when he makes one. always tries to prove his worth in physical and mission related ways. feels responsible for red fountain and guilty for having other interests. manages a stable art career but ultimately goes back because he's too emotionally attached to everyone and especially rf. it's just... dude...
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the 'clark has father issues' development over the years has been catastrophic
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i think it's concerning im just two steps away from looking like geto without trying.
The same hairlength, outfit (the baggy clothes i mean. not the kimono or whatever you call it), and mental state (satirical).
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It’s nights like tonight where I miss you, when I’m making dinner and it’s the recipe we learned together and both of our favorite foods. When I’m listen to my playlist and a song that reminds me of you comes on. When I see a stupid Halloween decoration that I almost get because it would have made you laugh as Christmas present.
But on nights like to night when I miss you, I think of the things I would have done differently, or how I should have said something else. But when it comes down to it.
I’m okay with being the bad guy in your story, even if once I was one of you’re biggest supporters. Even when I miss you and I want to be mad at myself for walking away, when I open your chat to send you a message, the chat that use to be pinned at the top of my page.
I walked away because I wasn’t doing you right, and I’m not going to fight for someone that doesn’t care I walked away. You once told me you hoped I would walk away. You got your wish. I walked away.
Even when it hurts, when I want to cry.
I realize I’m the only one hurting, you don’t miss me, you don’t even seem to care that I left,
and that’s why I walked away.
I was supposed to be the one beside you on your wedding day,
I was supposed to be the one you called after a long day at work,
I was the one that was supposed to be there when you got pregnant and it was the right time,
I was the one he was supposed to ask for your ring size and how best to surprise you,
I was the one that sat with you in the closet floor when you thought your life was falling apart,
I was the one that across from you in a burger joint when you poured your heart out and your fears,
I cheered you on when you walked the stage to get your college degree,
I was there for the breakups, the falling in love, the fear, the midlife crisis,
And then suddenly I wasn’t, I went out of town for a week, and you were in the hospital not bothering to tell me until you’d been released, and somehow it was my fault that I was upset you nearly died.
When I heard I need you to communicate with me you heard “cut all contact”
So now I won’t be the one that helps you get ready on your wedding day,
I won’t be the one waiting in the waiting room excited to meet the little one you carried,
I won’t be the one to celebrate when you get a raise
And I won’t be the one you call when you have a bad day.
But you also won’t be the one to stand by my side when I say I Do
You won’t be waiting to meet my baby,
You won’t be one of my calls when the test is positive,
You won’t be my call when I finally get the job of my dreams
You won’t help me get ready for a date
You won’t lay beside me and watch another movie on tv when we’re supposed to be sleeping
You wont be the person I stay up late talking to the night before the school dance,
I know I didn’t do everything right, there’s things I wish I could do over, things I wish I would have said, and things I wish I could take back. But even when I miss you, the hurt I feel now, doesn’t feel like the frustration and loneliness I felt when I was with you.
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Having to gentle parent my own mother is something that is really difficult
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coming to terms with having adhd is like wow so my brain has been broken all my fucking life and always will be. and when I felt like everything was unfair + more difficult for me than everyone else thats because it is actually. and it will always be like this forever. hope that helps 👍
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🚼 and Tommy Shep.herd
Accepting || send me a 🚼 and a ship I’ll use a doll-maker to design what I think a child between our two muses would look like
@stonefoxy
Name: Elaine "Lane" or "Laney" Shepherd-Thawne
Gender: Nonbinary ("she"/"they" primarily, but "he" also.)
Personality: Laney is pretty chill and calm in general. Things don't get to her easily. They're more internal with their feelings and seem like the type who let's things go like water off of a duck's back, and generally that's the case. However, they do have a tendency to hold their emotions back and have big outbursts later on. Though when it comes to their opinions they've got them and they will be heard.
Laney's got a quiet kind of confidence. Polite even when they know their opponent has no chance in hell of beating them. They just let their opponent have the last word when they know they'll win in a race or a competition. It's rare that they shit-talk, but when they do I'm sure both Thad and Tommy are proud when it happens and when it's really scathing. Thad and Tommy are really supportive in the sense of letting them go a bit wild or being mischievous, but Laney is just "???" in that regard.
Special Talents: Super-speed and hand to hand combat. I think Laney's powers are a mix of the physicality that is associated with Tommy's speed and Speed Force based like Thad. So a bit of the best from both worlds of super speed. So even if she's without he speed powers she still has the physicality/physical prowess.
Headcanons: Enjoys skateboarding, snowboarding, and other physical sports that involve going fast or the world zipping past them. Laney's got future Olympian in their future in either skateboarding or snowboarding. She thinks any sprinting or track competition would be too easy for her.
Only lets their parents or incredibly close friends who have known them forever call them "Laney". Most people tend to call them "Lane".
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sometimes i feel my story nagging at the back of my mind, gnawing, clawing, breathing down my neck, demanding "i need to exist", "i want to exist"; its desire and will powerful and overwhelming.
when it will be written, it won't be the most beautiful or smart or sophisticated story ever, i know that even now, it may even come to be overall unremarkable; and yet towards it i feel sheer, unfiltered awe, simply for the fact that it is a story and posseses a will to exist, a great and awesome will, and i am the sole witness of it, the sole prophet and worshipper to this decisive power. a story, it feels to me, is a separate mode of being, something vaguely and imcomprehensibly conciousness-like, but abstract and untethered, while human conciousness is unseparable from the intimacy and realness of us being animals. a story needs us, our animal bodies and lives and minds, our hands and mouths and neurons, to help it become real, to take it and bring it onto earth: something halfway between a symbiotic relationship and a religious experience. i find myself subservient to it, to art as universal divinity and to my story as my personal deity that embodies the former.
this loyalty to sublime makes me feel more at peace and in tune with the mundane than anything ever before it. i realize, in a sudden grace of acceptance, that in order to serve my story, to write my god i need to be alive, a blessed animal, and to be alive i need to take care of myself, which means i have to do the dishes and find a job and various et cetera; everything shifts and makes perfect sense. i no longer feel confused or burdened as to "why should i bother", and my body moves lighter and easier.
but the thing about unwritten stories is that they don't yet exist in any physical sense, not as electronic signals or pigment on paper or air vibrations or projected light or anything else; my story in its full form resides only in my head, and thus my awe and loyalty and service towards it are directed, ultimatey, unto myself, in the most sefless and selfish fashion simultaneously — self-love through division and synthesis. to serve art is to love yourself, and to love yourself is to make sure you're alive; to want your story to exist is to want yourself to exist. it's a complex system, but beautiful. with that thought, i'll go finish the dishes, and maybe cook something.
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god i am feeling so hopeless lately, over what i feel is extremely fucking stupid bullshit—e.g. 30 and loveless, despite the fact that people keep throwing themselves at me, like... i have. a not inconsiderable number of options. for people to date/bang/whatever. and i’m being encouraged to let shit happen with one of them right now, and i’m just like. but i want to be in love. i want to feel anything like genuine connection. i want to have butterflies and not just regular storebrand anxiety bc god dammit, another person who Wants things from me, can’t wait to disappoint them bc i’m such a frigid little flake. i don’t want to go on dates and fuck around for experience or just because. i don’t wanna put energy into shit i know is just a time sink, just for the sake of doing it at all. i don’t think i work like that, and i hate it because it feels like i’m doing my entire life wrong bc of that. like haha how do you expect to find love in the year of our lord 2022 as an out-of-school 30 y.o. unless you use hinge and go on hopeless dates and fuck your coworker who keeps calling you daddy. i feel like i don’t get to complain bc i’m turning down all these options, and i’m tired and fucking sad and lonely, and i don’t want to feel like i’m bad or cowardly or whatever for being choosy, it’s just that why the fuck would i buy in on someone i don’t get 100% good vibes off of when i have an increasingly lovely and healthy friend group? am i a shithead for just wanting to be swept off my feet? like i don’t think i’m walled off to love the way i used to be, it’s just that i know what i’m looking for and he hasn’t walked in yet
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Me: 'i dont have daddy issues or whatever 🙄'
Also me when I see an man treat an younger girl nice/kindly: oh my god... Im going to fucking lose it right now
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